Stories of Tie Up Games

Posted: **Fri Jan 02, 2026 8:36 pm**

Adam at the CN Tower

Early Sunday morning

I’m Adam.
Assistant Deputy Manager for the company that runs the CN Tower for the owner.
In training.
On the job 2 weeks.
Trying to restart my life in middle age from the get-go.
I was given the short straw for on-call for the last long weekend of the summer, a very beautiful weekend.

My boss went out of town camping with his girl friend in Algonquin Park. No cell service.

“Don’t worry, nothing will happen,” he had said confidently, “the only thing you might have to do is approve taking an elevator out of passenger service for a restaurant delivery or a service tech for the transmitters. Record the time, date, who or which company. Get a call back to restore the elevator. Nothing to do at all.”

All I had to do was press the 9 key.

Very early Sunday morning there was a call from the security tower desk, “There’s a crack in one of the tower legs that needs looking at.” About 200 feet up. Too high for an extension ladder or a fire truck.

Being a Torontonian I was aware of the CN Tower, older than I am. But I have no information on handling such a situation. Nor is there a backup to which I could escalate the issue. Nor could I go to my office as my out-of-hours access had not been set up.

What would happen if somehow the tower collapsed?

In desperation I queried AI.

“The closest situation was a potential for collapse of the Citicorp tower in NYC last century. It seems that the structural design did not consider quartering winds.” AI didn’t mention last minute changes to structural assembly that had not been analyzed properly.

AI recommended contacting the insurance agency and the structural engineers. And some lawyers. And inspect the leg of the tower.

I didn’t have any information on the design of the tower, its ownership, lawyers. Most people involved had probably passed on or retired.

Nor did I know if I had any authority to engage consultants, install safety barriers etc. But if there was a collapse my rear end would be in a huge crack.

I decided I needed to have a close look at the damage. I knew the fire department had personnel with training on rescuing people who were trapped in safety harnesses unable to extricate themselves.

So I called 9-1-1 and asked for the fire department, mentioning there wasn’t a fire but I had to reach their rescue team. First attempt led to a “This line is no longer in service” message.

I eventually reached Fireman Andrew. Andrew was not only the specialist in aerial rescue but getting ready for a practice session on rescuing someone hanging part way down a tall building. They would love to practice on the CN Tower rather than the usual slab-sided edifice. They conduct these drills on weekends to minimize traffic disruptions. And they had information on anchor points that could be used.

I stuck my neck out giraffe length and authorized the CN tower. I at least could ensure they could reserve an elevator.

I needed to inspect the crack myself, so I became the test-dummy.

I travelled across town to the CN Tower in my roughest clothes and met Andrew and the other firemen at the base. We got our first view of the crack, somewhat black. Couldn’t distinguish just what it was from the ground. Nor was their drone much help. But quite a large apparent gash.

Andrew gave me the choice of being lowered from the restaurant level (a drop of around 900 feet) or hoisted up from the base, a mere 200 feet or so. Chicken me.

So the rescue team went up to the restaurant level and lowered several ropes. I was put in a harness, given a safety helmet with a GoPro. I had a handheld camera as well, recording everything. And a walkie-talkie.

I was waiting for the “rescuer” to be lowered to the level of the crack when a fireman who had been walking around approached me with a plastic self-sealing bag with a black hexagonal object inside, slightly convex, maybe 5 or 6 inches across. He had found it on the ground near the base of the tower and said there were some others around, in pieces. I asked him to collect a half a dozen more, documenting the location found. Somehow it was familiar.

The rescuers started hoisting me up, playing out a rope from below as I rose up the side.

I felt like I was a bound person trapped in space. I shut my eyes for a few seconds in a reverie and remembered what the object might be. Elon Musk’s Starship had had a RUD event recently. RUD was Musk’s euphemism for a calamitous disintegration of a spacecraft or the booster. The black object was a tile from the re-entry shielding. Ominous that the tiles would survive re-entry and fast enough to significantly gouge the concrete of the tower.

When I reached the crack, its dark colour matched the colour of the piece the fireman found. I noted a broken vertical re-bar – it had been cut across, not stressed in tension with a narrowing neck at the place of failure. Other pieces of re-bar nicked. Took pictures.
I collected a very small sample of the discolouration, looked carefully for evidence of a huge crack in the concrete column but didn’t find any, but realized professionals would have to conduct a follow-on expert evaluation. Later.

Quite likely the CN Tower had been hit by one of the re-entry tiles.

The ‘rescuer’ concurred with my observations.

The tower was not in danger of falling over across railway tracks, roads, buildings. Not to speak of the interruption to communications.

My descent was more enjoyable now I knew things were safe. Eyes shut.

Late Tuesday afternoon.

There was a postmortem on the events of the weekend in the Toronto boardroom of the owner of the CN Tower. My immediate boss made the presentation, not dwelling very much on my role. Which I was grateful as I was in my aged best off-the-rack suit, in amongst the Armani suit crowd.

The discussions included how the world’s richest man could be held to account. Conclusion: unlikely

The group retired to the executive suite for refreshments. Two women joined the group having arrived from Ottawa, one appearing to be an aide to the other. The first person was very attractive, long blond hair, probably in her fifties, wonderful smile on her face. The other was younger by a couple of decades, slightly stockier than the first, by demeanour clearly a support person to the first. But very nice.

I stood in the background, unobtrusively nursing my ginger ale in a champagne glass.

After a while the two women came over to me and the more expensively dressed lady introduced herself, “I’m Evelyn and am the President of the organization that owns the CN Tower. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

I agreed, and we retreated to a out of the way corner. “Would you like a refill?” Evelyn asked.

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a coffee at this time.”

“Good idea. I think I’ll have a tea.”

Her assistant headed off to get the beverages. Evelyn brought out her cell and asked if I would let her record our conversation. “I won’t get you into trouble; from what I’ve heard you acted promptly and properly.”

“You heard that I’m just a trainee stuck with a on-call duty over the weekend? I was assured ‘Nothing would happen.’” Evelyn nodded, then said “Yes” for the record.

She listened attentively to my recital, polished after several presentations during the day.

The only disturbance was some reporter wanting to barge in. Evelyn’s assistant blocked the way.

We heard her asked for the man’s id and he passed over a business card. And still persisted.

The assistant brought out a notebook, black in colour and wrote down the man’s name. “Please leave us alone.”

He refused.

“This is my Black Book! Do you really want to be in it?” the assistant said. “Please leave us alone.”

The man got up and tried to get around the assistant.

“You’ll get into trouble.”

“Nah,” he said and brushed her aside.

Only to end up on his back half way across the room, sore from a couple of judo chops. The bartender approached as the aide commented, “I also have a black belt.”

Evelyn nodded her thanks and continued asking Adam questions. One was, “What did you feel while being hoisted up and down?”

“A bit like bondage. The harness was very snug. I’m glad the fireman suggested I arrange my 'equipment' before fastening the harness. Very nice pressure.”

“Are you interested in bondage?”

Adam nodded, wondering.

“So are we. Would you like to come over to our apartment some night? Clara, my daughter here, is a great rigger.”

Adam slowly nodded.

“Also, I’d like to borrow you from your job for a while. I want someone to dig into contingency procedures, training, maintenance of chains of command, and things like that. Obviously procedures have not been kept up.” She was thinking of the ‘Not in service’ issue.

“I was worried I would be let go.”

“No. There are some loose ends I’d like to tie up.”

ST
Sorry folks, Not much bondage here. But perhaps Adam will go visiting.

Posted: **Thu Jan 08, 2026 9:14 pm**

Adam 2

Escorted by Clara, I exited the short corridor from the front entrance to Evelyn’s apartment and gasped at what I beheld. There was a huge sloping glass roof, through which the CN Tower could be seen prominently, just a little to the left. The south face was a triangle of glass panels, reaching from the floor line to a peak roughly 30 feet over head. To the left and right were other triangles facing east and west, ending at a wall over the entrance corridor. The floor was basically one room about half the total size of the footprint of the dwelling, tastefully set with simple but elegant furniture. To the right was an area serving as a living room. An open area devoid of furniture was in the centre, and a long dining table with 12 very tall-backed chairs but only 3 place settings occupied the left.

The Great Hall.

“What the hell have I got myself into? I was expecting an apartment, a pied-à-terre or say 2 bedrooms and a few other rooms. Maybe a discussion of bondage, self bondage. This is out of my league. But I’m here, agreed to dinner,” Adam mused.

Adam turned around and saw a balcony running across the face of the partition wall, with doors suggesting bedrooms and other rooms on a second floor. Under the balcony on the right (east) side there was a spacious kitchen, looking very modern; under the other end was what looked like an office suite. Evelyn appeared from this area looking radiant, dressed in a simple summer dress, buttoned up the front. Nice floral colours.

Smiling, she said “Welcome, Adam,” and turned her cheek for a kiss.

“How did you find a place like this?” I asked.

“It was originally constructed when the Tower was being built. The architect wanted to watch it’s construction. It passed through a couple of owners. I needed a place in TO and it filled the bill.

“I’d like to show you around. Ask questions.”

“Isn’t this room a bit public? The diners in the restaurant can see in.”

“Oh, the glass panels are triple pane, and the middle one has a special set of coatings.” Evelyn stepped to a discrete control panel and swiped a couple of times. The glass panels slowly became translucent, then almost opaque. And the image outside seemed to become distorted. “I can set a level of distortion, colour, and reflectivity. There is a little camera on the Tower looking down – not many know about this – so I can monitor how visible we are from outside. Different parts can be set on their own so I can view the sunrise or sunset.”

“Amazing.”

Evelyn pointed out various rooms and specifically which was her suite on the balcony.

“I see some things that look like small hoists.”

“They are. Makes for some interesting parties, suspension parties,” she said with a grin. “Remote control. And some of them are on tracks that can move across parts of the area. I’m thinking of some tie-up dances.”

“I suppose that you could fasten three hoists together and move the ‘dancer’ across the ‘floor’. But difficult to have a couple waltzing.”

Smiling, Evelyn agreed.

“Pardon me,” interrupted Clara, “I’m getting dinner started.” She turned to me, saying, “We don’t dress up for dinners. In fact, just the opposite. And our ties, well, are not meant for a suit,” pulling a hank of rope from a pocket.

I smiled, “And?”

“Would you like to direct how my mother should be ‘dressed’ for the evening?”

“I presume the windows are opaque?” A nod.

I mused to myself, “I should head for the hills. But I agreed to come and I presume her daughter is speaking for her mother. Let me try.”

“Evelyn, please remove your dress and pantihose.”

She quickly revealed her silk intimate apparel, almost nude in colour. Clara glanced at her mother, then back to me, and back, obviously looking to her mother’s intimates. I shook my head, “Let’s leave something for later exposure. Please tie her wrists behind her back, crossed, no more than 2 wraps in both directions and the same for the cinch. Do you tie a straight reef knot, or use a surgeon’s knot?”

“Either.”

“Good, use the surgeon’s. Then use the free end to cinch the knot. Reef knots are vulnerable to asymmetric pulling of the free ends, so a cinch makes it more difficult. But don’t make the main tie so tight as to cut off circulation.”

Clara acknowledged the instructions, thinking that Adam might be an experienced bondager. Her mother smiled in anticipation.

Soon Evelyn was standing with her hands crossed behind her back, secured. Glowing.

“What chair should we use for her?”

“The one on the left of the table end.”

“Clara, could you get 2 ropes, maybe 4 or 5 metres long. I’d like you to tie the centre of both of them to the centre back bar of the chair back, at the bottom, with the ends coming forward. One of then should have an overhand knot about 6 inches from the tie at the chair back. The second should cross over the knot in the first one.”

A few seconds later I said to Evelyn to sit on the chair with her arms over the back.

To Clara, “Now pull the ends of the knotted rope over her thighs and around the chair back, pulling her rear tight against the back of the chair. Tie as convenient.”

When finished, Clara held up the other 2 ends. I shook my head saying, “Later they will be a crotch rope. Adjust them now if you want.

“Next, lets have a rope around her waist and the chair back, and also one above and another below her breasts. Or one long one for the later. Go under her arms, not over. Tie the knots at the front where she can’t reach.”

When Evelyn’s chest was secured, I said to Clara, “I’d like to have a harness holding her shoulders back, but I’m not sure just how to do it. Do you have any ideas?”

Clara certainly did, and soon there was a suitable harness on Evelyn.

I instructed Clara to tuck the crotch rope under the body ropes and over her shoulders. Make a knot behind her neck, then the ends around her wrist rope as a support for them to remove the strain on her shoulders. Thus Evelyn could tug on her crotch rope.

Clara immediately saw the effect on the crotch rope on Evelyn’s lady parts and smiled. “This is turning out well,” she thought, “Evelyn’s face showed her pleasure.”

“I have to do things in the kitchen, Adam, maybe 25-30 minutes. Perhaps you would like to tie Mom’s legs and ankles and then keep her entertained?”

I fastened Evelyn’s lower limbs, then picked up her pantihose, went around the chair and pulled the nylon legs over my hands and arms. I placed my hands on her shoulders and gave a little caress. A brief rub on her neck, below her jaw. I widened my centres of attention and eventually was making passes around her mounds. Leaning over I massaged her tummy over her panties, reaching down to her triangle.

I straightened up and worked her upper chest then circled her boobs.

“Pull them out of my bra and don’t be afraid to touch them,” Evelyn instructed.

I cupped her breasts in my nylon encased hands, noting how hard the nipples had become, wonderful knobs for my fingers and thumbs. Her breathing deepened, then she exploded.

When Clara returned, I had been watching over the host, thoroughly immobilized. Clara said, “The practice in this household is that the guest of honour and the host should be equivalently attired. Adam, remove your clothes,” she ordered.

I submitted to the ministrations of the rigger, positioned across the table from Evelyn. I found Clara’s tie-up to be comfortable but exciting, arousing. A position I could endure comfortably for quite some time. Clara fed us and herself from a big bowl of spaghetti, interspersed with sips of wine. Feeling surprised but interested. When a strand or drop of sauce would escape the spoon, Clara leaned over and licked it off.

“Don’t you feel exposed?” I wondered.

“It’s part of my thrill. Often I’m lashed into a chair, and the chair is hoisted half-way to the ceiling. I swing and twist in the sky. If I’m not blindfolded, I shut my eyes and drift off. The cares and problems of the day fade away. Sometimes my subconscious takes over, and suddenly I see a solution to a problem. Sometimes Clara has … I have a vibrator and it starts randomly. I become aroused, hit a plateau and if Clara hasn’t programmed it to stop, I crescendo.

“With your hands on my nipples, I have a new way of peaking.”

“It's nice to do good things for you.”

Clara said to me, “Let me release you and perhaps you can clean up while I ‘hang’ Mum.”

I cleaned up, finding the dishwasher, rinsing the small number of utensils bowls and glasses. Clara moved Evelyn in the chair to the centre, lowered a hoist line to Evelyn’s chair and raised her sky ward. Evelyn didn’t mind at all.

Clara wrapped a rope around my wrists, somewhat cursorily, turned off the lights, set the glass to nearly transparent. She took my hand and led me towards the steps to the balcony, saying “Now you and I can have some fun.”

ST

Stories of Tie Up Games

Adam at the CN Tower MF?/MF?

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Re: Adam at the CN Tower MF?/MF?