02 - Challenging Lisa
Story index at the bottom
By Chris
Sunday, November 13th 2005 - 04:54:24 PM
Hi there, it's Chris again, or Christopher, as I was called by everyone when I was a child. Both events I'll be describing are true and occurred more-or-less as I recount them, with some poetic-license added to fill-in blank spots in my memory and to help maintain a decent narrative drive (also, I only use first names of people involved, and these have been changed, see my first story for why). The first part is a lead-in to the main story, describing an event that was technically unrelated to that wonderful game, "Operatives", but which did have a psychological bearing on me, and therefore affected the events of the game this time around. The second part describes the actual events of the game.
PLAYMATES
In my last story I described how, as an 8-year-old, I had developed a wicked desire to get myself tied-up and how, during a fairly wonderful game, I found myself bound hand and foot in a shed with a big mouth-stuffing gag between my teeth. I was 12-years-old then, and it was the very first time that someone had restrained me to hide me from potential rescuers. It was invigorating: the tightness of the bonds on my bare wrists and ankles, the feel of the gag in my mouth, the knowledge that I was, effectively, a kidnapped boy (and it was the best kind of kidnapping: free of the risk of my injury, death, or other unpleasantries). All the sensations were heightened by the fact that I'm a person with a very active imagination...
It would be several months after that before I would get the chance to play that excellent game called "Operatives" again with my friends in northern California (I visited my friend there, Sean, quite frequently, but the game requires a lot of boys to be available all at once to play, and therefore we didn't have a chance to play it for some time, and I didn't want to press the issue and look too eager to get myself trussed...)
The experiences of that game and my (awesome) ordeal in the old wooden shed affected me in a couple of ways. Firstly, I noticed that many of my dreams were changed; I was finding myself helplessly tied and gagged more often in my sleep, whereas before the game I had seen myself in a more "heroic" light when dreaming. Instead of being some brave and courageous boy boldly facing villainy, I was a frightened child desperately struggling to free my bound body and loosen a tight gag covering my mouth.
Secondly, I noticed that I was a little more open with my interests with some of my friends. I had two good friends, John and Lisa, who were in the 6th grade (like myself) and we'd often watch TV or movies together. One time (I remember this clearly) we were at Lisa's house watching a fairly cheesy chop-saki where the hero is surrounded by ninjas and, as he thrashes them, his young sidekick is grabbed by the villain and dragged off kicking and screaming. The hero chases the villain after the boy's cries alert him.
"Sheesh," I said, out of the blue, "why didn't he just gag the kid?"
I regretted saying it almost before I'd finished, I was already beginning to blush, but Lisa immediately replied: "Yeah, that would've been what I'd have done." That took me aback. I looked over at Lisa from my periphery: she was quite a slender and tall girl (in 6th grade the girls are naturally taller than the boys, but due to my relative shortness the effect was even greater in her). Lisa was beginning to become a "volleyball girl": she was athletic and used her asset of disproportionately long legs well. Her hair was nearly platinum-blond (though, I thought, not as blond as mine when I had been little, now mine was turning dirty) and her big green eyes were striking. I couldn't imagine a girl like her tying anybody up (back then I almost exclusively visualized my kidnapper as a burly masked man with evil eyes) but the thought of her doing that to any boy, or even me, was "interesting".
So when John told her: "Heh, come on Lisa, you couldn't even put a leash on a puppy! How're you going to do anything to someone as strong as you?" I saw a devilishly amazing opening.
There was a slight ringing in my ears. My lips seemed to move without my consideration: "Yeah, Lisa, especially a boy!"
The cross-legged girl shot a rather icy stare at me with her solid emerald eyes. For a 12-year-old girl she had an absolute mastery of intimidating glares (at least, against a smaller 12-year-old boy, anyway...) "And what's that supposed to mean, Christopher?"
"Come on, everyone knows that boys are stronger than girls, right? So if you tried anything like that on a boy, you'd probably be the one to end up kidnapped!" At the time, I couldn't believe what I was saying.
Lisa was by no means a tomboy. She was actually quite feminine, but let's just say, not dainty. I knew, for example, that she often liked wearing dresses and, because of some... well, rather short PE uniforms we wore at school, that her underwear was often frilly (as a side-note, and this is completely true, the very first nosebleed I suffered at school happened during physical education, at the time I guess I thought it was God's way of telling me to keep my eyes to myself, but I make no apologies: find me one 12-year-old boy who wouldn't have looked and I'll eat my shoes!). Noticing girls was a very recent development for me, dating would be some time off, and so during this opening act of puberty in my life Lisa was simply another friend.
And now I was riling this friend into dangerous territory. If she'd known that I had paid some attention to her as she climbed the ropes in PE she'd have knocked me silly; now that her physical prowess was being questioned by a boy half-a-foot shorter than her, well, that called for serious measures.
"You think that boys are stronger than girls?" She scoffed.
"Sure," I said, getting into it now, "I mean, there's no girls' varsity football team at the middle school, or at the high school, right?"
And then, glory to God in the highest, she said what I'd hoped she'd say: "Yeah, well you're not on the varsity team at school, are you, Christopher?"
That was true, I was getting OK at throwing a decent spiral, but there were far better QB's than me at school and, with my diminutive size, there were few other positions that I could play.
I chuckled, baiting her even more: "so you mean you think that you're stronger than me? So you think that if I was the boy in that movie that you could tie me up? Ha ha ha!"
John laughed a little too, but he looked more perplexed than amused. I don't think he was too happy that I was offering to be pitted against Lisa as a representative of my sex, and more practically, he was concerned that I, provoking a girl with more height and more muscle than myself (at least in the legs" maybe all over"), was slightly suicidal.
But I kept laughing in a very patronizing sort of way.
"Shut-up, Christopher, you're being ridiculous!" That was her favorite word to use when she got really steamed.
I kept chucking until Lisa stormed out of the room. "I think you really pissed her off, man" John said, but we kept watching the poorly written (and acted) martial arts flick. I was sunk back in my section of the futon with adrenaline still coursing through my wiry veins like TNT. My breathing was still rapid as I considered Lisa's response to me. The hot-blooded girl was, to say the least, impulsive, and I knew that I could count on some kind of a response (even if it was simply her trying to kick my butt from here to San Francisco!)
After about a minute my breathing slowed and some normalcy returned to the room. The movie still played, John and I still watched it. I was a little concerned: I pictured Lisa up in her room, crying or cursing me tearfully; she could get quite upset, and since she hadn't already tried to pummel me (or kick me out of the house) I was afraid that I'd really hurt her.
If I had known the truth at that point, I would have likely suffered a nosebleed that could kill me. As it was I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to hear John say: "What's that?" or to hear the very quick and feminine (but not dainty) footfalls of a barefoot girl running at full speed from behind me...
BAM! I grunted as the air rushed out of my lungs: two hands collided with my back, the force of two locked arms sent me sprawling onto the thick carpeted floor with a thud. "Ooof!" I yelled in pain and surprise as I landed and, stunned, braced my arms so I could get up.
I didn't get far: no sooner did I fall than 95 pounds of 6th grade girl suddenly landed on my arching back. "Ulgh!" I managed as I felt two powerful female leg muscles clamping against my thighs from either side. Suddenly there was another noise too, one that quickly sent a hot, searing signal down my spine from the nape of my neck to the tip of my tailbone.
Rrrrrrrrrrrr-p!
The sound was wondrously disorienting, in the back of my head I knew it should excite me intensely, but in my shocked state I couldn't place it...
"Hey, get the heck off-a me, Lisa!" I yelled from under the green-eyed girl's body.
"Don't tell me you're frightened, little boy?" She mocked me, making to prove her point from earlier.
I lashed out with my hands and toppled her off of my back; I rolled over onto my own back, but Lisa was quick to recover and quickly got back on top of me, grabbing my arms and fighting with her legs to control my flailing lower body. It was then that I saw the item that had made that loud noise: next to us, beside us two struggling 12-year-olds locked in a mock battle-of-the-sexes, was a worn roll of duct tape from Lisa's garage.
Despite the situation, my excitement rose 10-fold and my pulse probably jumped into tachycardia!
John was staring at the scene with surprise and (I'd bet my life on it) some amusement; he always did enjoy a good fight that he didn't have to participate in!
"John, get her off me! She's nuts!" I yelled.
Lisa glared at him with a fierce warrior-princess type gaze: "No way, John: this is just a little thing between Christopher and me!" She retorted.
John was inclined to agree with Lisa: "Sorry, Christopher," he shrugged, "but, remember, you did say that thing about..."
"Argh!" I yelled with manly bravado as I shoved Lisa off my body and pushed her against the floor. I tried locking my arms over her shoulders, but that proved fatal: she rolled away and grabbed my neck, pushing me against the carpet once more and this time holding me there with an angry, sweaty resolve as I lay prone.
By this time we were both panting and doused in a good deal of sweat. I felt a drop of perspiration as it rolled off Lisa's chin and landed between my shoulder blades (which were bared since my t-shirt had been stretched in the scuffle). I was uncomfortably hot, with Lisa's hyper-thermal body pressing down onto mine. I panted into the carpet: it was hard to breath with the girl straddling me, keeping her hands on the small of my back and a knee against my rear end. I was tired, exhausted.
I had no fight left in me, and she knew it.
Rrrrrrrrrrrr-p!
"You're going to hold still for me, aren't you?" She ordered, panting.
"Shut-up." I huffed, but I did not resist.
I felt Lisa pull my wrists together against my back and then wrap the duct tape around them again and again; I felt her chest pressing against my back as she reached around to my face, planting a small slather of tape over my lips (coincidentally I felt something else at that moment which made me exceedingly glad that I was lying prone; sorry if that sounds crude but it is the Lord's honest truth!)
She got up and, when I didn't roll over or try to stand, she walked around me and stared down at my face: "Okay, Christopher: if you were the captured boy in that movie, not only would you be totally screwed, but you could never ever be a hero's little sidekick again, ‘cause you just had your butt kicked by a girl!"
John was finding the whole thing particularly funny, he was clapping and having a good laugh at the scene. I stared at my conqueror with angry blue eyes and said something that would have gotten me a swift kick in the side if I didn't have the tape over my lips. I knew I didn't look as angry or imposing as I wanted: my soft liquid eyes were characteristically unthreatening, especially when paired with a gag over my mouth. It was amazing to be treated like this by Lisa, of all people, and my heart still beat like a malfunctioning snare-drum, but I was also a little disappointed: the fight had been pretty quick, ending with me "kidnapped" relatively quickly. I was hoping I could have done better against Lisa, maybe even turned the tables and wrapped her body up (that little thought sent a whole new tingle down my backbone!)
But now that was less than a pipe-dream: at that exact moment in my life I had had the opportunity to fight-off a girl-attacker and give her the treatment, but the outcome of this fight had been decided long before it had even begun.
I yelled into the tape: "Moo-vocked vah vind ow-va vee, Mee-fa!" It was an excuse for my capture, but a pretty good one.
"And you think that was unfair? Life's not fair, little Christopher!" she chided while patting my head. "Maybe you can learn that while we all watch the rest of the movie; now move your scrawny little kidnapped butt, you're blocking the screen!"
I was fine to move by then, and with some effort I got to my feet and fell back onto my place on the futon, not daring to look Lisa in the eye as I did so. The bonds she'd forced on my body were actually fairly pitiful: the one-layer duct tape gag (as anyone who's tried it knows) couldn't prevent my lips from parting after I forcefully opened my jaw as far as it would go, and after wringing my sweaty palms and turning my slim wrists to and fro I was able to free my hands; all of this within less than five minutes. I rebuked Lisa's handiwork:
"My grandpa ties his neckties tighter than that, Lisa!"
She didn't look at me this time: "Then you want another go, little boy?"
I was still rubbing my aching spine and nursing the tenderness around my mouth where I'd pulled the tape off: I wisely didn't say anything in reply. For his part, John stared over at me with wonder, either thinking about how determinedly brave I was or how suicidally insane I could be.
After that none of us really talked about that event; it was brought up once or twice by Lisa when she wanted to embarrass me for some reason or another, and I never was able to repay her the favor (though I found myself longing to do so). However, these events, as well as the image of that green-eyed girl, were with me clearly in my mind a few weeks later when I was brought up to a little northern town to visit my friend Sean, and play a little game with him and his friends called "Operatives".
We had played it before, and it was a game that I rather enjoyed.
Chris
darkcheshiregrin@hotmail.com
http://cheshirecatgrinner.tripod.com
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Chris' stories
- 01 - Outmatched Operative (m+/m+)
- 02 - Challenging Lisa (f/m)
- 03 - In the Pale Moonlight: Outmatched Operatives (mm/mm)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section