Stories of Tie Up Games

Part 1 of 2


As I sit here, typing this story, bound and gagged in my chair (nothing fancy, nothing over-the-top), on a cool sunny October afternoon, I recall why I am so fond of October, and why it is my favourite month of the year.

In my area of our pale blue dot, October lies between sweltering daytime heat and sticky nights of summer months, and bleak grey rains with bone chilling winds of late fall and early winter. Trees have taken on bright hues of oranges, yellows and reds, and have yet to loose most of the leaves. Days can still get warm, but comfortably so, and the evenings have a fresh chilled breeze allowing for cozy cuddles by a warm fireplace. October allows for my favourite attires to be worn regularly by both my wife and myself (nylon tights, stockings, and other skin tight clothing) without the discomforts of either sweating profusely into them, or not being warm enough as a base layer.

It is during October days that I can comfortably and confidently wear thick nylon/spandex tights with a leotard under my regular street clothes as I go about my daily business. It is during October evenings at home , much as I am now, that my wife can comfortably tight-lace me into my favourite corset, over leotard and tights, and lock a bondage belt around it all; all this, even before we knew that Kinktober was a thing.

It is also during October that my wife-mistress-lover-best-friend shows off her shapely legs that I so much admire in all sorts of colourful tights matching all the different hues of the turning and falling leaves. Reds, oranges, yellows, even greens and browns, but not blues--those she gets and reserves for me. Today, as it was 20 years ago, it is a shade of royal blue in 80 denier that cover me from waist to toe. My leotard matches in colour, if not in exact shade, while my corset is in black satin.


Ah, 20 years ago we had so much more energy, and were up to much more frequent and longer tie-ups. So, as I sit here, I will not bore you with how I will be untied very shortly, bondage belt unlocked, corset unlaced, and with the help of wifey settled-in for a kinkless yet still very cozy and loving evening before bed.

Instead, I promise, that before this very month of October is done, I will be back, once more gagged, tight-laced, and bound to my chair by my dear wife, to then be left to reminisce and recount a kinky (yet still PG-13) October weekend day and night we had caringly and lovingly shared 20 years ago ...

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Part 2 of 2


So as promised, here I am back on a rainy yet cozy autumn day, gagged, tight-laced and bound to my chair, to reminisce and recount the kinky October day my wife and I had shared 20-some years ago. Precise details have been rendered vague over the years, but I still have very found memories of the day we spent.


It was a sunny, yet chill morning, if I recall correctly. Before breakfast, we had decided to dress up for our respective parts for the day: my wife, a bewitching sorceress determined to have me, a male ballet dancer she had invited home, as her eternally enthralled toy.

For my outfit, I donned my dance belt, followed by sky-blue footed tights, a black long-sleeved, mock-turtle-necked leotard, and a pair of black soft leather ballet slippers. My dear wife then helped me into my black leather waist cincher, lacing it tight, but not too tight, and locking a black leather bondage belt around it. Before proceeding with her own dress-up, she locked a pair of black leather ankle cuffs on me, attaching a short screw lock carabiner between them, and then did the same with a pair of leather wrist cuffs, arms behind my back.

She gently help me sit down on the edge of our bed, and placed a padded leather blindfold over my eyes. Asking me to stay quite there, I just listened to her going about our room, open and closing closet doors and drawers. I heard her pulling on tights, and zipping up a dress. When my blindfold was removed I was absolutely stunned, mesmerized by the sight of my beautiful wife, long ginger curls, deep emerald eyes, and a beaming smile. Her ginger curls fell onto a black skin-tight spandex dress with a short skirt, spiderweb-meshed of to one side, and long sleeves also spiderweb-meshed. Her shapely legs were encased in opaque orange coloured tights, much like the autumn leaves outside, and with black spiderweb fishnets to match the meshed patterns of her dress. A pair of black leather ballerina slippers fished her sorceress's outfit.

I was bewitched and speechless.

She helped me up and slowly guided me into the kitchen, hobbled as I was. Once in our kitchen, pale autumnal light and cool breeze drifting in through the half-opened window, she unfastened the carabiner holding my wrists behind my back. There, we made our breakfast together, chatting idly about mundane things, plans for the following week and such. With table finally set and ready to eat, my wife reapplied the screw lock carabiner to my wrist cuffs, but in front of me instead of behind my back.


Before eating, I was sat down at our kitchen table, onto a high-backed armless chair to which my wife tied with white cotton rope my bondage belt so I could not stand up again until she released me. She unfastened the carabiner between my ankle cuffs, and then tied each cuff off to its correspondingly nearest chair leg. My wrists were kept linked in my lap.

Sitting herself down comfortable at our round kitchen table, to my right, we proceeded with eating our breakfast and drinking tea, her with much ease, and I with much challenge and tiny bites. Details of our conversation as we ate have long been forgotten, but the gist remains of loving glances, exchanged smiles and laughter, loving touches from her and a longing from me to touch her. I ate and drank much less than her, of course, given my predicament, but I do recall her occasionally feeding me a berry or helping me with my cup of tea.

As we finished up our breakfast, my wife fully sated and I at the limit of what waist cincher would allow, I recall my sweat dear wife holding gently my wrist-locked hands in her soft, delicate, free hands and asking me if I was ready for my first torment as her play toy. I recall locking eyes and simply nodding yes as we kissed.

She sauntered off back to our bedroom and returned with the blindfold, which she promptly reapplied, blocking my sight. She then asked me to open my mouth as she stuffed what tasted like a pair of her worn ankle socks from the day before, and then wrapped several turns of duct-tape around my mouth and back of the neck to keep them in place. The taste was not bad, but still reminded me of her intoxicating aromas that I loved so much.

Not seeing what else she was up to, I let her guide my arms behind the back of the chair once she unfastened the carabiner between my wrist cuffs. There, she use rope to rebind my wrist cuffs together, ensuring that the knots she tied were out of reach. With more rope, she bound my arms and chest to the high back of the chair, pinning me tightly against it. The ankle cuffs were untied from the legs of the chair and then brought together with more rope, forcing my ankles and legs parallel together. Rope was then used to lift up by bound legs towards the bindings behind the chair, my toes barely off the floor as my ballet slippers were removed. A few ticklish caresses along my exposed soles tested my wife's rope-work to her satisfaction as I squirmed inescapably and giggled through my gag.

But tickling was not yet to be my torment, as I barely heard my wife's soft cushioned footsteps recede. Instead, a few quite minutes past as I felt my exposed feet getting cold in the chill autumnal air, no longer trapped and sweating into my ballet slippers. I then heard my wife return and start clearing the table, once more chatting idly with me, but one way only as I could only moan through my gag. As the table was cleared, my feet were getting uncomfortably cold. I could have grunted three successive short grunts to indicate trouble or wanting to be released, but neither was the case. I was determined to endure the chill air and mounting coldness at my feet, which was not due to constricted circulation as I had enough wiggle room to rub my feet together and barely graze my toes against the wooden floor, each causing some welcomed warming friction.

But even that chill was not to be my torment. Once my wife had fully cleared the table, I heard a space heater click on. Chill air was quickly replaced by warm air blowing directly at my exposed soles. Briefly, this was very welcomed, but rapidly became very hot. I was reminded of an old campy Batman episode as I tried to move my feet away from the hot air stream, straining against the ropes pinning me to the chair, wiggling feet and toes as much as if they were being tickled.

As the chair creaked with my futile efforts to escape inescapable bonds, I recall my wife giggling at my plight and verbally taunting me. Exact quotes escape me, but her soft, angelic, yet teasing voice made my torment all the more endurable. As she continued her verbal taunting, I felt a sudden and sharp coldness against the exposed tops of my feet despite the continuing blast of hot air from the heater. My dear wife informed me that she was rubbing an ice cube against my feet, wondering how long it would take for the hot air to melt it as it was partially shielded by my own feet.

Hot air against my soles, ice cube against the tops of my feet, I strained in all directions to no avail, unable to escape this delicious hot-cold torment my sweet wife had concocted. It didn't take long for the ice cube to melt, after which my wife redirected the space heater to dry off the front end of my feet. She left the heater on for a couple minutes past the fully dried point, before switching it off and starting to release me.


I was fully released from chair, but also from wrist and ankle cuffs, as well as bondage belt and waist cincher. I was ungagged and allowed to freshen-up in the bathroom, but had to put back on my dance belt, tights, leotard and ballet slippers before coming back out. My wife re-laced me into my waist cincher and re-locked bondage belt, wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs, linking the cuffs up again with screw lock carabiners, arms in front of me.

Slowly guiding me to our living room, I admired the contrast of her black spiderweb fishnets atop her shapely orange tights clad legs. Once in the living room, we snuggled up on the couch and after some sweet aftercare discussions continued onto more mundane topics. Eventually, we discussed my next predicament.


After our snuggles, my wife walked me up to our laundry room door, along our long hallway, where she had setup an over-the-door bondage cross made of leather with acrylic anchors that were slid under and over the shut door. Removing my wrist cuffs, she ordered me to stand back against door and to raise my arms towards the leather cuffs at the upper corners of the door frame. Bewitched by my beautiful sorceress as I was, I complied as I stood on tip toes in my ballet slippers, with ankles still connected with a short carabiner linking cuffs. Once my wrists securely cuffed, she proceeded by removing my ankle cuffs and ordering me to spread my legs towards the leather cuffs at the lower corners of the door frame. This had the effect of forcing me off the balls of my feet and truly onto my toes only. Once secured, spreadeagled within the door frame, my dear wife slipped off my ballet slippers, forcing my tights-clad toes to be in direct contact with the wooden floor.

Once more she ran her slender fingers along my arched soles to test the setup; there was no escaping whatever torment she had next planned.

She walked off towards our bedroom, barely out of sight, and returned with the gag I dreaded the most: a butterfly pump gag that she promptly strapped and buckled in place. Looking me straight in the eyes, she gave the pump a couple of squeezes as she mischievously smiled and then giggled at the sight of my checks puffing up. Giving me a couple of playful light slaps with both her hands across my puffy checks, she informed me she would go about enjoying the sunny late morning and early afternoon while I remained trapped there in her makeshift spiderweb.

As she teasingly sauntered away towards the living room, showing off her skin-tight dress and tights, all I could do was admire her delicious deviousness as I longingly ached to hold her in my arms as I had moments ago. Soon, my arched feet on tip-toes started to ache. I was able to lower myself down onto the balls of my feet relaxing a bit the arch in my feet , but only at the expense of increasing the pull against my wrists. The first aspect of my current predicament had now kicked-in: I had to alternate between being on the toes and balls of my feet, straining my wrists, and being just on my toes, increasing the strain on my arched feet.

But my loving, caring wife did not leave me completely unattended and unentertained. She turned on the living room sound and a CD of our favourite American-French singer and songwriter started to play and fill the house with his songs. When our favourite autumn themed song came on, she had pressed repeat and had allowed the song to repeat itself several times; how many? I couldn't remember unlike the singer of the lyrics.

Occasionally, she would walk by and giggle with amusement at my constant flexing and shifting of arching feet and straining wrists. She would even give me what a craved the most, a good tickle torture under my arms and along my ribs, but never long enough to sate my desire for her touch. At times, she would even give a few more pumps and tease me and how puffy and silly my checks looked, before giving them playful slaps. At other times, she would release the pressure valve, and a few minutes later return to re-pump my gag.

At one point, a song about mosquitoes came on, and she decided to to pinch me all over with her fingers while the song played and I strained against the bondage cross, causing the door frame to creak. Each time she disappeared from view, I longed for her return. Each time she did, despite the tickling, pinching, taunting, I longed for her to stay and not cut her torments short as she did.

The CD stopped, and the TV turned on. I heard her watch her one of her favourite taped shows on an old VHS player we still had. From her vantage point on the sofa, she could see part of me squirming in the door frame. Occasionally she would shush me when she considered my movements or gagged breathing and moaning too loud. I felt properly ignored, and ornamental, yet still observed and safe within her care.

With her taped show over, she went out of sight into the kitchen to prepare herself a lunch; a meal that we had agreed I would be 'forced' to skip. However, instead of sitting at the kitchen table as I had been led to believe, she came with her plate and drink on a tray, which she placed on the floor beneath me. She then pumped-up my gag to the fullest she ever had, and then knelt and sat down, legs aside in front of her tray and proceeded to calmly eating a deliciously aromatic meat-sauce spaghetti. She would teasingly offer me up some bites before mockingly commenting on how my mouth was so full. I watched transfixed and totally bewitched, waist cinched stomach occasionally grumbling, as she ate, sipped wine and occasionally dabbed her lovely lips with a paper napkin that miraculously had very little stains on it.

Having finished her meal, she stood up and released once more the pump gag's valve fully. She gave me a final whiff of the now empty plate before leaving with tray and all. Once more I longed for her return, toes, feet, wrists, aching in their restraints, but she had no intention to release me from her spells and spiderweb just yet.

Instead, she sat down to watch another taped show, as I patiently awaited her return, checks no longer full, but mouth salivating with calf, thigh, forearm and bicep muscles now also aching. Luckily for me, her second taped show had been only half-an-hour long.


Once more I was fully released from all cuffs, bondage belt, and waist cincher. Ungagged, I was allowed some sips of cool water to re-hydrate. Another bathroom break to freshen-up was promptly followed by me getting redressed into my day's outfit and being re-cinched tightly with the bondage belt re-locked over all. Ankle cuffs were also re-locked with the short carabiner link, but not my wrist cuffs. Enthralled by my lovely bewitching sorceress, I went about washing the morning and lunch dishes, tidying up about the house and completing my daily assigned chores, as my wife lounged on the living room sofa, reading a novel.

When I was all done, she ordered a drink, which I slowly hobbled over to her. She ordered me to kneel down on the floor facing her on the sofa, and to then lay down stomach against the floor and hands clasped behind my back, mouth to the floor. Her feet, still in her black leather ballerina slippers and encased in orange tights and spiderweb fishnets, came into view before me, their sweet, sweaty, leathery aroma filling my nostrils. Satisfied with her drink, she rewarded me with permission to kiss the top toe tip of each of her slippers just once. As her devoted and bewitched husband, I gladly complied.

I was ordered to stay put and stay quiet as she stood up and disappeared from sight, soft delicate footfalls receding into the end of the hallway. A few minutes passed before her soft footsteps approached again, and coils of red rope were dropped to the floor, signalling the next phase of our tie-up games.


Using one coil of red rope, she quickly tied the wrists of my clasped hands together, cinching them tight, knot out of reach. She then proceeded to also bind my arms together just above and below my elbows, as much as my flexibility and safe circulation allowed. A rope was then used to secure the arm ties through a loop on the back of my bondage belt, again ensuring that the final knot lay out of my reach. She then proceeded to bind my knees together, just above the knees, also cinching that rope tight. Finally, my ankle cuffs were removed and quickly replaced with rope binding them together, cinched and secured, leaving my face down against the wooden floor, legs bound parallel to each other and arms pinned against my back.

She took a few steps away from me, just out of sight, and ordered me to follow her into the bedroom, and to keep my mouth shut. Tied-up as she had me, there was no way I'd be able to hop along, let alone get up. I had no choice but to wiggle, squirm and worm my way.

With great effort, I managed to turn on the floor, using chest, knees and toes as leverage, all while being careful not the scratch the wooden floor up with my bondage belt. When my sweet sorceress's legs came back into view, I could tell she was facing me even though I was ordered to keep my gaze on the floor and on her feet. Taking a few steps backwards towards our bedroom she reiterated her command to follow her. Slowly, gradually, I wormed my way along the hardwood floor towards our bedroom, thankful that I had previously mopped clean said floor. While worming my way after her, I remained mindful not to scratch up the surface with my bondage belt. All along the way, my sweet wife and enchantress taunted me promises of a reward at the end, while also commenting on how cute I looked squirming towards her.

Having sat herself down at her side of the bed, she teasing slipped one of her ballerina slippers off past her heel, but kept it dangling off her toes. As I squirmed and wiggles towards her, the sweet, warm, sweaty aroma of her feet encased in tights filled my nostrils. As I neared her dangling foot, she ordered me to stop. Allowing the toe dangling slipper to fall off to the floor, she repositioned it with her other foot so it lay near my face, toe part facing away from me, exposed sole closer to my nose.

She remarked how my gaze, throughout the day, always landed on her feet and legs, and so my reward was to kiss her unshod foot first, and once she was satisfied with the kisses, to bury my nose into her slipper on the floor, with mouth closed and to sniff it out.

Bewitched, enthralled, I willingly and wholeheartedly complied, kissing tenderly her soft foot, inhaling deeply the sweet, warm, sweaty aromas of her sweaty feet mingling with those of her tights, all the while being careful not to accidentally have the fine mesh of her spiderweb fishnets catch on my teeth. After a few dozen kissed, she pulled her foot away, and then used it to guide my face towards her unshod slipper. WIth my face positioned correctly, she placed her foot atop my head and gently 'forced' my face onto the slipper, commanding me to take deep long breaths.

Each breath I took caused the leather canvas of the slipper to balloon out and deflate back in, eliciting sweet giggles from my wife, as she kept her unshod foot atop my head. Satisfied with my performance, my bewitching sorceress rewarded me by commanding that her other foot now be also worshipped, followed by sniffing out the remaining slipper.


Without release from bindings nor any interlude, I was ordered after several minutes of foot and ballerina slipper worship to squirm my way over to my side of our queen-sized bed. Once there, she had to help me stand up slowly, facing away from the bed, and then gently have me sit down on the bed and spin my legs onto the bed. She helped me lay down, arms still pinned to my back, and roll me over unto my stomach.

From there, she undid the rope bindings of my arms and wrists, and reattached the wrist cuffs, but kept them free of any link. Keeping my leg bindings intact, she then commanded me to turn myself onto my back towards the centre of our bed. Once positioned, she guided first one of my arms, then the other, towards the corresponding corner posts of the headboard where she used rope already there to tightly secure each wrist cuff, once more ensuring that all knots were unreachable.

To inescapably web me onto the bed, she proceeded to add a rope around the cinched rope at my ankles and pull my bound legs towards the central slats of the footboard and tie off that rope there. Another rope was used to cinch my feet together and also tie them to the central footboard slats, but not as tightly as for my ankles. Taking a very long rope that passed underneath our bed, she feed each end through the corresponding side loop of my bondage belt a couple of times. With plenty of length remaining, she tossed each loose end under the bed back over to the opposite side and back atop the bed. Climbing onto the bed, she sat down upon my thighs astride me, looking me straight in the eyes with a sweet mischievous smile, as she grabbed each loose end and started to pull on them with all her strength. As she did this, the bondage belt cinched itself tighter around my already tight-laced waist cincher. With herculean effort in trying to maintain the tension, she tied knot after knot right above the centre of my abdomen through the remaining loop of my bondage belt.

The tension had eased up unavoidably during the process of tying those final knots, but I nevertheless felt properly and inescapably webbed to our bed, tightly cinched at the waist, which made me feel incredibly submissive to my wife, enhancing her spellbinding effect on me.

Deciding to test out the bindings, she proceeded to tickle my exposed armpits and ribs, while still straddling my thighs. I instantly started laughing out loud. She shushed me, and I tried to remain as quiet as possible, but as her delicate fingers ran up and down my ribs and arm pits, and then to the soles of my feet as she acrobatically maintained her locked gaze with mine, I couldn't help but burst out laughing again.

She stopped tickling, leaving me wanting more, as she gave me her sweetest smirk and wink before leaning in to kiss me on the forehead. Stepping off the bed, she informed me she would be right back and sauntered off to our master bedroom's en suite bathroom. Before returning, she ordered me to close my eyes and to keep them closed.

Moments past as I felt her get back into bed next to me. As she did so, I felt soft warm fabric graze my nostrils, immediately followed by the warm sweet aroma of her tights. She ordered me to open up my mouth, and as I did so, she stuffed her tights in there, and proceeded to wrap what sounded like several layers of duct tape once more around mouth and neck, as I lifted my head as much as I could to assist her.

I heard her toss the roll of duct tape aside, and resume her position astride my thighs. Ordering me to open my eyes now, I saw my that my ginger-haired, emerald-eyed goddess was still in her witchy dress with spiderweb sleeves and was still wearing spiderweb fishnets, but now above bare legs; her orange tights, were now safely tucked away in my mouth, where their bitter-sweet sweaty taste enthralled me to my dear wife all the more.

As she started to teasingly wiggle her fingers in the air wit a mischievous smirk, I braced myself for what I had hoped would be the most intense and merciless tickle torture I would endure yet.

Alas, my dear sorceress had other plans as day pushed into late-afternoon amidst the orange-hued setting sunlight through bedroom windows. Merciless tickles would be for another time she informed me. Instead, she promptly laid herself next to me along the thin space left on her side of the bed. This put pressure on the rope attached to my bondage belt on that end, re-tightening the cinching effect it had when she first bound me to the bed. She then grabbed a book from her nightstand that we were reading aloud to each other and proceeded to read from it to me.


We have read so many books together, that I cannot reliable tell you, dear readers, which one it was. All I know for certain is that it had definitely put us both to sleep! I can recall that I had woken up with sore arms, still gagged with my wife's now then nearly tasteless, yet still somewhat sweet, tights, and still tightly bound to our bed. As for my dear sweet wife and bewitching sorceress, she lay closely snuggled up to me, head resting upon my chest, eyes, closed, moonlight illuminating her soft facial features.

I tried not to disturb her peaceful slumber as I made subtle micro-movements to alleviate muscle soreness, but my stirring caused her to wake as well. Realizing how much time had passed, we nevertheless took a few moments to hold each other's gaze lovingly.

I was quickly released from all bindings. We took warm showers in our en suite bathroom, and then settled in for a cozy evening after a quick and late microwave super. Watching a couple of low-quality, taped-off TV on extended play VHS cassette, episodes of "Bewitched," we fell asleep again in each others free arms this time, snuggled up in our flannel pyjamas on our sofa.

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Epilogue

Dear readers, that was indeed twenty-some years ago as I had initially wrote. However, I must make one confession, and that is that I am not now, as I type these words, actually still gagged, tight-laced and bound to my chair. While I was indeed, as I claimed gagged, tight-laced and bound when I wrote the first part and later when I started the second part, I couldn't possible have been so through-out the entire writing and editing process (through multiple passes, with mistakes surely remaining) of this reminiscence.

While my wife and I no longer play kinky tie-up games as frequently as we used to, come October, our favourite month of the year, we still find time, and energy, to play at least once during the month, even if it is for just one short hour and no more. And if it ever comes to us being only able to play only once a year, then it will always be in October, on a cool yet cozy autumnal day, much like twenty-some years ago.

Our favourite song from that CD I had mentioned, is about to come on, and so I leave you here ...

... till next time.

Well said sir! I too love this time of year for the chance to see many beautiful women in tights, as well as wear my own. And reading this makes me wish I was wearing some right this minute. I guess I’ll have to rectify that. Thanks for writing!

Thanks for the kind words @TightsBound

Dear readers, the story is now complete and posted integrally all in the first post of this thread.

I really loved this. You’re a great writer and laid everything out with enough description. I imagined I was the one in tights and tied up by a beautiful woman in tights. You managed to walk the fine line of keeping the story for everyone, but always hinting at more adult elements without being explicit, that takes skill. Thank you for sharing this memory with us!

TightsBound wrote: 6 days ago I really loved this. You’re a great writer and laid everything out with enough description. I imagined I was the one in tights and tied up by a beautiful woman in tights. You managed to walk the fine line of keeping the story for everyone, but always hinting at more adult elements without being explicit, that takes skill. Thank you for sharing this memory with us!

I am very glad you loved this and were able to imagine yourself being the captive. I do hope you actually have, or at least one day will get to experience something like I had here.

Thanks for the compliments of my writing, it means a lot as I am always hyper-critical of my own work. I just re-read my writing myself and noticed a few more typos and grammar issues, but I will leave it as is.

Once more, thanks for reading and commenting!