Stories of Tie Up Games

Crime and Cupcakes

The first thing Veronica noticed when she regained consciousness was the smell. Jasmine and gardenia with a faint undertone of something chemical, like a mix between a candy shop and a medicine cabinet. The scent was familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it. Her head throbbed dully, and her mouth felt dry, as if she’d been chewing on cotton wool.

She tried to move, but her body stubbornly refused to cooperate.

Her arms were pinned behind her, her wrists bound tightly to the back of a chair. Her legs were similarly restrained, her ankles tied to the chair’s legs with what felt like thick, unyielding rope.

She blinked, but the darkness remained. A blindfold—soft, silky, and smelling faintly of expensive perfume—was tied snugly over her eyes. She tested the bindings subtly, flexing her fingers and shifting her weight, but the knots held firm. Whoever had tied her up certainly knew what they were doing. The rope was rough and somewhat abrasive—hessian jute if she wasn’t mistaken— with what felt like a double-column tie for her wrists. Not exactly helpful information at the moment, but it was a start.

Veronica took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. As a budding teen detective it certainly wasn’t her first time being tied up, in fact it was almost standard procedure at this point in her career, so she knew enough not to give in to panic.

She decided to focus on her surroundings in the hope of piecing together where she was being held. The chair was sturdy, with a high back and wooden arms. The floor beneath her felt like carpet—plush but not overly thick. The air was cool, with a faint hum of a computer or some other electronic device nearby. She could hear the occasional creak of floorboards and the distant murmur of voices, though they were too muffled to make out clearly.

Her thoughts drifted back to the last thing she remembered. She had been walking home from school, her tweed three-piece suit and bow tie drawing the usual mix of admiration, confusion and outright hostility from her classmates. Then, she became aware of a sudden presence behind her. Before she could react, a hand clamped over her mouth, and the sharp, acrid smell of chloroform filled her nostrils. She had struggled, of course, but the chemical had taken effect quickly, dragging her into unconsciousness.

Now, here she was, blindfolded, gagged, and tied to a chair in what she could only assume was her kidnapper’s lair. She shifted slightly, testing the ropes again, but they held firm. The gag in her mouth was a cloth - most likely a bandana - tied tightly between her teeth. Something soft and slightly sweet-tasting had been stuffed into her mouth, muffling any attempt at speech. She could feel the fabric digging into the corners of her lips, the knot pressing against the back of her head.

Veronica sighed inwardly. So far, so ordinary,..

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped Veronica out of her thoughts. She stiffened, her senses on high alert. The footsteps were light and quick, accompanied by the faint jingle of bracelets or charms.

The door creaked open, and Veronica could feel the presence of someone entering the room.

"Oh, Veronica, you’re awake! I was so worried the chloroform would take longer to wear off. I mean, I read online that it can be tricky to get the dosage right, and I didn’t want to hurt you or anything. I just needed you to stay still while I got everything ready,"

Veronica recognized the voice, though it took her a moment to place it.

Emily. Emily Carter. A classmate from school. They weren’t close—Veronica didn’t really do close—but she knew Emily by reputation. She was one of those girls who always seemed to be surrounded by a gaggle of friends - none of whom seemed to like Veronica too much.

She was also, if Veronica remembered correctly, a bit of a true crime fanatic.

“I’m going to take off your blindfold now,” Emily said, her voice tinged with excitement. “But don’t try anything funny, okay? I’ve got a taser, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Veronica nodded slightly, her curiosity outweighing her apprehension.

The blindfold was removed with surprising gentleness, and the soft fabric slipped away, revealing the room around her.

The first thing Veronica noticed was the color. Pink. Everywhere. The walls were painted a soft pastel pink, adorned with posters of kittens and inspirational quotes in curly script. The bed was a canopy affair, draped with pink lace and piled high with plush toys. A vanity table in the corner was cluttered with makeup and hair accessories, all in varying shades of pink.

But what really caught Veronica’s attention was the wall opposite her. It was covered in a massive collage of photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes, all connected by a web of red string, framed by fairy lights.

It was like an unholy cross between a teenage girl’s bedroom and a serial killers basement.

Veronica’s eyes widened as she took it all in. This wasn’t just a shrine—it was a full-blown investigation board. And she and Thomas were the subjects.

“Do you like it?” Emily asked, her voice brimming with pride. “I've been working on it for simply ages.”

Veronica blinked, unsure how to respond. She was still gagged, of course, but even if she hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure what she would have said. This was… a lot to take in.

Emily stepped closer, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. She was dressed in a pink sweater adorned with a large bow, paired with a pleated skirt and knee-high socks. Her blonde hair was styled in loose curls, held back by a matching pink headband. She looked like she was auditioning for a slot in the Mickey Mouse Club, not like someone who would kidnap a classmate and tie them to a chair.

"Mmm-phly?!" Veronica mumbled through the gag, her voice muffled but incredulous.

Emily clapped her hands together, her face lighting up with sheer delight. “Oh, you recognize me! That’s so sweet. I was worried you wouldn’t remember me, even though we’ve been in the same home ed class for, like, forever.”

Veronica shifted uncomfortably in her chair, the ropes digging into her skin as she tried to process the situation.

Veronica’s mind raced. If Emily was truly a psycho, she would need to stall for time, wait for an opening. The knots were tight, but if she could just—
"Oh my God, your pocket watch is so cute!" Emily squealed, clapping her hands together with glee.
…Or maybe she was just an overenthusiastic lunatic.

“I’ve been such a huge fan of yours for so long,” Emily gushed, clasping her hands together. “You’re, like, the coolest person I know. You’re so smart, and brave. And your sense of style! Oh my gosh! I mean, It’s so,.. iconic!”

Veronica felt her cheeks flush at the unexpected compliments. She wasn’t used to being the object of admiration, especially not from a stone cold hottie like Emily.

Until today, Veronica had long since stopped caring what other people thought of her wardrobe choices. Today’s ensemble was one of her favorites: a perfectly tailored tweed three-piece suit in deep charcoal, paired with a pale blue button-down and a burgundy bow tie. A silver pocket watch dangled from her vest.

Thomas had once told her she dressed like "a retired English professor trapped in the body of a teenage girl."

"Which is exactly the vibe I’m going for," she had replied, unbothered.

"But your tie is a little askew. Would you like me to straighten if for you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Emily leaned in, close enough that Veronica caught a whiff of strawberry lip gloss.

Veronica squirmed as she felt Emily's fingers brushing against her starched collar as she retied the knot in her bow tie with practiced ease. The contact was brief, but Veronica felt it like a spark, an electric jolt running straight down her spine.

"There! Much better!" Emily beamed, stepping back with pride.

Veronica swallowed, her usual sharp wit momentarily failing her.

Oh no. This was not good. Can you say Stockholm Syndrome?

"You know," Emily mused, tilting her head, "I never thought tweed could be sexy, but you might have changed my mind."

Veronica’s eyes widened, and she found herself sweating in some most unfortunate places.

I'm Not blushing Veronica repeated to herself. Definitely. Not. Blushing.

Emily straightened up, seemingly oblivious to Veronica’s mounting discomfort. “Anyway- I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here. Don’t worry, I’m not, like, a psycho hose beast or anything. I just really, really wanted to talk to you. And I didn’t think you’d agree to come over if I just asked, so… well, here we are.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly conveying her skepticism.

Emily giggled nervously. “Okay, maybe this was a little extreme. But you’re always so busy with your cases - and everyone says that you’re probably into this kind of thing, so I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. She was going to have words with whoever was spreading that rumor.

“Anyway,” Emily continued, “I host a true crime podcast. It’s called Crime and Cupcakes. It’s, like, super popular. Well, not super popular, but I have a pretty decent following - with literally dozens of dedicated listeners. And I really, really want you to agree to an interview. I mean,
you’re, like, the perfect guest. You’re smart, you’re funny, and you’ve got, like, such incredible stories to share. So… what do you say?”

Veronica stared at her, incredulous. She gestured to the ropes binding her to the chair, then to the gag in her mouth, as if to say, Are you serious?

Emily blushed. “Oh, right. Sorry about that. I’ll take the gag off, but you have to promise not to scream or anything, okay? My parents are downstairs, and they’d totally freak out if they found out I kidnapped someone"

Veronica nodded, her expression deadpan.

Emily hesitated for a moment, then reached behind Veronica’s head and untied the gag. The bright pink bandanna slipped free, and Veronica spat out the white ankle sock that had been stuffed into her mouth. She took a deep breath, savoring the feeling of being able to speak again.

“Let me get this straight,” Veronica said, her voice dry. “You kidnapped me, tied me up, and dragged me to your pink princess lair… because you want me to be on your podcast?”

"What choice did I have?" Emily replied "You never answer my texts, or emails—"

"So naturally, chloroform was the next logical step."

Emily beamed.

"Exactly! You get me!" Emily leaned in closer again, her blue eyes wide and impossibly earnest. “So… what do you say? Will you do it? Please? Pwetty please"

Veronica mulled this over.

Now that she was reasonably certain that Emily did not intend to make a dress out of her skin Veronica could not help but feel more than a little flattered that anyone would go to such lengths to meet her.

And it didn't exactly hurt that Emily looked like a young Resse Witherspoon,..

"Fine,” Veronica said, her tone resigned. “I’ll do your podcast. But you have to untie me first. - AND you have to let me keep the Hermès scarf"

Emily’s face lit up with excitement. “Really? I mean, Yes of course! It's yours! Oh my gosh, thank you! You’re the best!” She quickly set to work untying the ropes, her fingers fumbling slightly in
her haste.

As the ropes fell away, Veronica rubbed her wrists, wincing at the faint red marks left behind. She stood up, stretching her stiff muscles, and glanced around the room again. The shrine was still there, looming over her like a monument to her and Thomas’s exploits.

“So, do you do this to all your potential guests, or am I special?”

Emily grinned. “Just the ones I think are hot.”

Veronica opened her mouth—whether to argue or deflect, she wasn’t sure—but nothing came out. This was new.

Emily leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh my gosh. Did I just make the great Veronica Harper blush?”

Veronica pretended to scowl, tugging at her shirt cuffs. “Let's start the interview before I change my mind.”

“Right, right, of course!” Emily hurriedly undid the last knot, practically bouncing with excitement. “I promise you won’t regret this!”

“You know,” Veronica said, her tone dry, “most people would just ask for a selfie.”

Emily giggled, her cheeks pink with joy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”