Stories of Tie Up Games

This is part of a growing series of Katja stories:

Katja 00: Prolog 1 - Early Signs viewtopic.php?t=23922
Katja 00: Prolog 2 - When TUGs were simple viewtopic.php?t=23905
Katja 01: What's a collar without a leash? viewtopic.php?t=23816
Katja 02: Making the shopping mall less boring viewtopic.php?t=23853
Katja 03: A question of peg and chain viewtopic.php?t=23881
Katja 04: Caged Birds Do Sing viewtopic.php?t=23931
Katja 05: How not to dance viewtopic.php?t=23950
Katja 06: A Bald Decision viewtopic.php?t=23963
Katja 07: The Big Red viewtopic.php?t=23977
Katja 08: Grandma's Wooden Spoon viewtopic.php?t=24038
Katja 09: Enjoy the Silence viewtopic.php?t=24055
Katja 10: Among Sheep viewtopic.php?t=24067
Katja 11: Reading Tolkien viewtopic.php?t=24096
-
Katja 13: Boxing Katja viewtopic.php?t=24151


Katja 12: All about David - Part 1


The “Katja 04: Caged Birds Do Sing” episode happened at the end of last year's summer vacation, so David and Katja had to wait until this summer to meet again. And indeed, shortly after Katja had arrived at our cottage, the phone rang. David’s parents invited her over on Saturday. I would drive her to the neighboring town where David lived. If they wanted to meet more often, we’d take turns — sometimes at their place in town (his parents, Dr. and Dr. G., were dentists and had a spacious apartment), sometimes at our farm.

When I drove her there, Katja insisted that we say goodbye out of David’s sight … 'Puberty is when your parents start to get embarrassing' came to mind — I'd spend the afternoon in town on my own.

Much later, after I had picked her up again, on our drive back to the cottage, Katja gave me this report on her visit:


David had grown since their last meeting, but only vertically, which made him look even more lanky. His round face — much like Katja’s — still looked soft and showed little sign of a beard. And his hair had grown another year longer. 'I wonder if he also stands in front of the mirror every morning like I do, praying nature will finally do its job?' Katja thought.

When David greeted her, he couldn’t shake hands or hug her because his hands were cuffed behind his back. And his parents were clearly aware of it.

K: “Wow, you’re wearing handcuffs!”

D: “Yeah, it’s kind of my Saturday routine. I cuff myself, hand the key to my parents, and tell them when to unlock me — usually before bed, sometimes not until Sunday morning.”

K: “Wait — you stay cuffed for 24 hours? How do you go ... you know ... number 1 and number 2?”

D: “Diapers. Why do you think my butt looks so bulky in these pants?” (He was right — it didn’t quite match the slim rest of his body.)

K: “Ew. Seriously? Diapers?”

D: “They have their perks. I never need to look for a public restroom.”

K: “‘public’ — wait, you actually go out wearing handcuffs?”

D: “Yeah, sometimes. But usually nobody notices.” he smiled promisingly.

Katja turned David around to get a closer look at the cuffs. She had never seen real ones up close, and the ones David wore definitely looked real.

D: “Want to try it too?”

Katja couldn’t resist. David was surprisingly skilled (experienced?) at pulling out a second pair of handcuffs despite having his hands bound behind his back — and cuffing Katja as well, back to back. But then he took the key and walked away into the kitchen.

D (calling): “Mom, Katja wants to try the handcuffs too. Can you hold her key?”

His mother returned with him, looking a little concerned.

M: “For David, wearing handcuffs on Saturdays is as normal as wearing socks. But I don’t want him pressure you into anything. Just tell me if you want me to unlock you. I’ll even lock them on again afterwards if you’re still up for it.”

Katja thanked David’s mom and the two of them disappeared into David’s room which was at least three times the size of her room at her dad’s cottage or at her mom’s city apartment.

K: “I’ve never worn handcuffs before, but Daddy ties my hands behind my back with rope when I ask him to.”

D: “Then let’s see what kind of games we can play without using our hands.”

Katja impressed David with her foot painting and foot writing techniques. David impressed Katja with how skillfully he could use the mouse and keyboard on the floor. They played various children’s computer games — hard enough with feet alone. Eventually, they got to a motorbike game, and at some point Katja sat very closely behind David, like a biker and his passenger riding pillion — just without arms. Whose idea that was remains disputed to this day.

K: “Lunch was... weird. David got his food cut up and served in a bowl on the table, since he couldn’t use his hands. They asked me if I wanted the cuffs removed so I could eat normally. I said yes and took them off ... and then I fed both myself and David in turns.”

F: “That was great, Katja!” I interrupted Katja's narration

K: “Yeah — I don’t think his parents ever thought of feeding him. I wouldn't be surprised if they usually put his bowl on the floor. Feeding someone else is harder than I expected. Even though he was very cooperative, quite a bit ended up on his face. I was allowed to wipe him clean with a towel afterwards. This embarrassed him more than eating from a bowl.”

F: “Now imagine if you both had eaten from bowls. Just picture how messy you’d have looked afterwards. You could’ve licked each other clean.”

K: “Eww, gross! … Maybe next time.” Katja smiled. “After lunch, I had them put the cuffs back on because in the afternoon we were going shopping with his parents.” Katja grinned.

F: “You didn’t really walk through the shopping mall in handcuffs, did you?”

K: “Yes, we did. His parents are super chill about it. And at the mall people are too busy to notice that you're in handcuffs."

F: "Probably they only notice what they are prepared to."

K: "With two of us and two respectable parents, Mr. and Mrs. Dr.G., around — no big deal." (That hurt me a little.)

K: "Of course they had the handcuff keys with them, at least mine. And just like a normal family we went to McKing in the end. There we were seen. We only got milkshakes, which we drank through a straw. Some other kids pointed at us and a boy a little older silently mocked the way we were forced to sit and drink. A mother of a particularly obnoxious daughter of maybe nine even came over and asked David's parents - rather loudly - where they got those neat handcuffs from and if they'd also offer them in kids sizes. I don't think the mother meant that seriously but her daughter certainly did. One concerned looking man who had been watching us for some time came marching towards our table. But just before he started to complain David's father turned at him. In the same moment the man's expression changed, he greeted Dr.G. friendly and quickly went away. When the man was gone David's father explained to me 'Smart people don't piss off their dentist.' which his wife and son found very funny."

"On our way back to the car I pointed out the lockers at the entrance of the mall to David. He sees them in a whole new light now.

Back at home, David showed me his bed in more detail. (Katja now got my full attention.)

From the outside, it looked normal. Underneath were two drawers for bedding, blankets, etc. Behind the drawers, there is a narrow space between them and the wall. Sometimes he sleeps back there, wrapped in his blanket, wedged in between drawers and wall. But lately, he didn’t do it as much, ever since his mom, while David was asleep, secretely jammed the drawers with his slippers — he couldn’t push them open from behind while he was swaddled in the blanket.

And then it was almost time for you to pick me up. His parents unlocked my cuffs. David offered to lend me them until next time, but I politely declined.

F: “Why?”

K: “Handcuffs feel kind of... impersonal. I’m more of a rope girl than a steel girl, I guess.” (that made me cringe)

F: “And do you want to start spending your weekends in diapers now too?” I kidded, knowing very well that diapers were a big no-no for both of us.

K: “Eww, gross!”

Shortly before we arrived at the cottage I asked Katja about her impression of David and his parents.

K: “Honestly? His parents tolerate his ‘hobby’, but not as… lovingly… as you do. He does things you’d never let me do, but I think his parents kind of despise him for it.”

[To be continued]

That’s clearly a nice friendship they have there. Both enjoy the same hobby, at least kind of. It’s sad though that David’s parent despise him for it. At least he found a friend he can talk about these things now who enjoys it as well.

Nice story again

Killua wrote: 2 weeks ago Nice story again

Danke.

And, as Katja or her father would say: "Wait and see!"

Katja: All about David - Part 2

On the following Saturday David's return visit to our farm took place. He arrived without handcuffs and, I believe, without diapers.

After a brief hello it turned out that he did have handcuffs in his little backpack, but only one pair. Katja and David wanted to spend the morning cuffed together. A quirky debate ensued between them about who would get the right cuff and who the left one. Since they were both right-handed, it wasn’t an easy decision — would Katja, as the lady, or David, as the guest, keep their “good” hand free?
Eventually they made up their minds - I don't remember which way - cuffed themselves together and handed me the key without asking me.

“We’ll be back by lunchtime, Daddy” said Katja as they headed off.

More or less hand-in-hand she gave David the “grand tour” of the farm — including the wooden bench where she had spent two weeks reading Tolkien, the hilltop where I had once sacrificed her to the sheep, a visit to Grandma and Grandpa, and a full tutorial on sheep's ear tags. They returned to the cottage right on time for lunch. I gave them the key and they unlocked themselves.

F: “Oh, Princess, I was so hoping to watch you two feed each other or eat out of bowls without hands.” I feigned disappointment - I had in fact prepared two clean bowls for the occasion.

K: “No, Daddy,” Katja said, “David begged the whole way to be allowed to eat a proper meal by himself again, he's forgetting how to use knife and fork.”

D: “Not true, Mr. S., I eat plenty of meals with a knife and fork at home,” David tried to reassure me. He wasn't used to our daddy-and-princess banter. And 'plenty' is far less than 'most'.

Lunch — although it was eaten completely conventionally — was enjoyed by the three of us.

After the dishwasher was loaded, I asked if I should cuff them the other way around this time (left and right swapped), but they explained that they had other plans for the afternoon and disappeared into Katja’s room.

What followed was the classic dilemma of every father of a teenage daughter, ever since bedroom doors were invented. Should I knock and ask if they wanted something to drink — and then seemingly forget to close the door again? Or try not to make the floorboards creak too much as I sneak closer to listen at the door?

After what felt like an eternity (maybe 30 minutes), I finally heard loud giggling from Katja’s room — which was actually a relief.

Shortly after, the door opened, and out came David and Katja — but swapped. They had exchanged clothes.
Katja was wearing David’s jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers. David wore Katja’s knee-length skirt, stockings, Mary Janes, and her cropped top. But since David was taller than Katja her skirt and top appeared shorter on him, although still within the limits of decency.
They were probably both quietly devastated, but their bodies were still so 'in between' that each could easily wear the other’s clothes.
Apparently, they wanted my opinion. I gave Katja tips on how to walk, stand, and sit more like a boy — but no matter what she tried, she clearly remained a girl currently dressed in boy’s clothes.
David, on the other hand… he needed no such coaching. I think all three of us were genuinely amazed. That is until he tried to walk in Katja’s elegant heels.

Not long after, they disappeared back into Katja’s room. And then… it got suspiciously quiet. Just before I decided to pay a “courtesy visit,” the door opened again and they quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

After another 45 minutes - together! in the bathroom! - they finally emerged.

Oh wow! Katja had given David a full makeover. She had styled his long brown hair the way a girl would wear it. She had applied makeup — more elaborate than I’d ever seen her do on herself. His fingernails and toenails were painted in Katja's girlish pink nail polish. And David was even wearing a pair of Katja’s earrings.

Standing together in front of the mirror, all three of us were stunned by how convincing and complete the transformation was. The silence became tangible. 'When you stare into the mirror too long, the mirror eventually stares back.' or so I thought.

F: “David, I hadn’t noticed you had pierced ears,” I said, just to say something.

K: “He didn’t. Until now. I pierced them.”

F: “With what?”

K: “Oh, Daddy…”

I looked at the clock and turned to David:
“If you don’t want to go home as a girl, you’d better wash off that makeup and change clothes fast — your dad’s coming soon!”

David looked horrified — clearly, going home as a girl was not part of the plan.

Katja and David rushed into the bathroom. Eventually, David emerged — mostly restored to his original boy-form.
But he held up an empty-looking plastic bottle and said to me in mild panic:

D: “Mr. S., do you maybe have any more nail polish remover? We used it all up for cleaning my finger nails, but my toes ...”

He didn't see that Katja was standing behind him, shaking her head and mouthing “NO.”

F: “Sorry, David. I normally don’t need nail polish remover — Katja’s the only one who has that.”

Katja gave me a thumbs-up.

D: “But… but… what if my parents see my toenails?”

F: “Socks? Closed shoes?”

D: “Where can I even buy nail polish remover?”

K: “Any supermarket. You just have to brave the cosmetics aisle. Or you can wait until we see each other again — I’ll bring some for you.”

Just then, the doorbell rang — David’s dad had arrived.

David barely had time to throw on some socks.

After David had left, I said to Katja:

F: “If his parents catch him with painted toenails, do you think he’ll actually get into trouble?”

K: “I don’t know. But they’re kind of strict.”

F: “Then maybe you should stay in touch with him — and if necessary, explain the situation to his parents. Bring me in if you need backup.”
“And how exactly did you pierce his ears?”

K: “With a needle and a cork. Like Grandma did hers 50 years ago.” (I had never asked my mother how she got her ears pierced.)
...
After a short break Katja asked
...
K: “Daddy, this morning when David and I visited them, Grandma and Grandpa seemed kind of reserved when they saw David.”

F: “Maybe because you two were handcuffed together?”

K: “Daddy, they’re my grandparents.”

F: “Fair point… Maybe they’re just afraid that little Katja won’t be spending much time with them anymore — now that she’s more into boys than summers on the farm.” I offered as an explanation.

K: “Maybe, sounds plausible.” Katja said, still skeptical.


[To be continued]

I think it is cute how they spend their time together. Kinda mean of Katja to keep David’s toe nails like that. I’m a little worried about him because of his parents. I just hope they don’t find out. Katja surely has a good way to blackmail him to come visit her again to get that nail polish remover. Probably ends up tied up even

I like your writing style. I think the way you mark the speeches works well for your story making it easy to see what the father thinks and what he speaks.

Killua wrote: 2 weeks ago I like your writing style.

Thank you very much.

Katja: All about David - Part 3

The visit to David’s place at the next weekend was going to be a sleep‑over!

When two young people at that age ... I’m really not good at talking about those kinds of things. So I called — somewhat cowardly — her mother, explained the situation and she then had a long mother-daughter phone conversation with Katja on Friday evening.
On Saturday morning without any word I placed a condom on her nightstand. When we left for David’s an hour later she had taken it away — also without a word.

On Sunday afternoon, when I picked her up again, Katja told me about their weekend. She and David had gone to the cinema on Saturday afternoon. David in handcuffs, hands behind his back, leaving the key in the apartment.

F: Does that mean you were miles away from the key?

K: Yes. David had wanted to try this for a long time. But I think it would be too extreme even for him to pull this stunt completely alone.

F: And his parents knew about this?

K: They saw him handcuffed but didn’t ask about the key. And they paid for our movie tickets.

Katja continued that after the movie at the cinema they watched films back home. (“Daddy, why don’t you have such a great streaming subscription?” I expected)

K: Then, at night, I lay on top of David. ("Daddy, what exactly is 'innuendo'?" I thought)

Anticipating my worried face she smiled and explained:
K: I was supposed to sleep on the couch in his room. But we both ended up sleeping in his bed: me normally on top of the mattress, him underneath, wedged between wall and the drawers, which I - like his mother before - had blocked with his slippers ... just in case.

K: "Before that, we played Exorcist" Katja said excitedly

F: How does one play exorcist?

K: I put on my nightgown,
he donned black pants, black shirt, buttoned up high.
Then he ties me spread-eagle on the bed,
I squirm and insult him — in my best demon’s voice — as vile as I can manage.
He quotes — in Latin — from the Bible
When I run out of insults, he sprinkles holy water on me. (He calls the cake brush, which he uses for that, his 'Aspergillum'.)
Or he makes fun of me, saying I’m not even possessed because I can't properly float above the bed.
Finally he tickles me until the devil and all the demons leave me.

We both laughed, but Katja seemed to want to say more.

K: “Daddy, I think something is deeply wrong with David. He sucks at tickling,” she said, concerned.
F: “He sucked you?!”
K: “No, he’s just no good at tickling.”
F: “My princess, not everyone is a gifted tickle master like your daddy.” I tried to joke.
K: “No, seriously. My mom often has no time but she can tickle me. My little brother always tries to be mean but he can tickle me. Marcel knows how to tickle me and Chloe tickles me better than you.
But David … it’s as if he’s afraid.”
...
F: “Katja, you’re growing up fast. David is a cute boy, but he’s still just a boy. I’d understand if he is insecure.”

K: “This makes perfect sense, but still …”

F: “How do you feel about him?”

K: “He likes me, and he cherishes every moment I spend with him. And his parents treat me better than they treat him.”

F: “They even let you eat from a plate with knife and fork.”

K: “Father, this is difficult enough. If you want me to talk about this, please try to remain serious for once!” (Oh, wow!)

K: “You put that condom on my nightstand. Thank you for it — and for the discreet way you allowed both of us to handle it. You put it there because you had certain fears — maybe expectations.” (I nodded.)

K: “I took it from there with me because I had similar fears — maybe hopes.” (I nodded again.)

Katja pulled the unused condom from her pocket and inspected the wrapper.

K: “Just with David ... I feel it will expire.”
...
K: “And the way his parents act. Friendly, polite, supportive… but it’s like they hope something will happen between us. Something more than just TUGs.”

A long‑forgotten song resurfaced in my mind:

If your child ain’t all he should be now, this girl could put him right.
I’ll show him what he could be now, just give me one night.”

F: “Oh.” That was all I could say. “…Do you think he is… you know… ‘so’?”

K: “‘So’ as in gay? Maybe. But if he is, then he doesn’t know it.”

F: “But you do seem to enjoy spending time and doing TUGs with David.”

K: “And yet there’s a difference. For me, being tied up is fun — and that’s my limit. For David, being tied up is… humiliation, self‑punishment — I don’t know.”
...
K: “Playing TUGs with him is fun, though. And he knows so much more than Marcel or Chloe.
When we played Exorcist, he really knew Latin — I’d never told him I have Latin at school and hate the subject — he explained what texts he was reading, etc.”

F: “Do you think he holds back with you because he wants to become a priest and live in celibacy?”

K: “If so, shouldn’t he go to church on Sundays?"

F: "Good point."

K: "No, I imagine him more an actor. He has a real talent for things like this.”
...
K: “And TUGs with him are exciting for us both because we switch.”

F: “‘Switch’?”

K: “Well, one of us subs has to take the Dom part in our TUGs.”

F: "Shouldn't David, as son of two dentists, be a natural born sadist?"

We both laughed. Then, silently, more serious

F: “You consider yourself a 'SUB', Katja?!”

Katja looked at me half laughing, half incredulous.

K: “Could your princess
- who lets herself be led on a leash
- who lets herself be locked into a luggage locker at the mall
- who lets herself be caged in front of 600 people like a bird
- who lets herself be mummy‑wrapped in duct tape just as an 'experiment'
- who lets herself be sacrificed to your sheep
- who chains herself up for 2 weeks to read a book
- who spends half her summer holidays wearing a potato sack
- etc.
could she maybe be a sub, just a tiny bit?”
…
I didn’t like what she had said. Neither that she considered herself a 'sub', nor that she probably was right.

F: “Oh.” The way she said it, it almost made sense. “But, aren’t you too young for that?”

K: “I have always been a sub, one doesn’t need to await age of consent or adulthood.
Being a sub isn’t something you choose, it’s … like George in my class: I’ve known him since Kindergarden, only he was Georgina back then.”
...
F: “And do you then think of me as your 'Dom' or 'Master'?”

ROTFL – I’d thought until then that “rolling on the floor laughing” was just an internet meme, but Katja taught me otherwise.
As she recovered from laughing, she said:

K: “No, you are neither my Master nor my Dom, you are mostly my Daddy, and when needed my Father — and that’s good.” She gave me a long hug.
...
F: “Where and when did you watch The Exorcist?” trying to change the subject
K: “David’s parents are really terrible at anything digital — not just a little slow like you, Daddy, but really terrible. Guess who set up their Amazon Prime subscription?”
F: “Any more movies I shouldn’t know about?” I had finally managed to steer this talk back into safe, shallow waters.

At Halloween, Katja got David an invitation so they could go together as a costume pair to Christie’s big party.
They considered costumes:
- Alexa and Alexie, the twins from The Shining (nobody remembers them anymore),
- Elsa and Anna from Frozen (too tame),
- Wednesday and Enid (too popular), etc.
In the photo Katja sent me after the party, David (dressed as Beauty) held Katja (dressed as Beast) on a leash.

One might see a pattern.

The story of Katja + David continues in Katja 13: Boxing Katja viewtopic.php?t=24151