Stories of Tie Up Games

It was a rather chilly summer's night. Theresa, dressed in a pink one-piece Flannel pyjama with feet and green, ribbed collar and cuffs, was about to go to bed, when someone rang the doorbell.
"Who could that be?" she wondered as she went to answer it. "I'm not expecting anybody, and Anton has his own key. And besides; he won't be home from work for another couple of hours!"

She opened the door just enough to let her get a peek. She saw a man, who she vaguely recognized from somewhere. He was big, in every sense of the word, had a rubicund face and reddish, curly hair.
"May I help you?" she politely asked.
"Yea, you may!" the man grunted. "You can let me in!"
Well, I'd rather not. It's late, I was just about to go to bed, so I'm not really appropriately dressed for entertaining and I'm all alone."
"Yea, I know you're alone!" the man grunted. "I saw that boyfriend of yours, or whatever he is, leave, and I'm pretty sure he won't be back in a hurry. That gives me plenty of time to do what I came here to do." He put his hand in his pocket.
"Oh?" was all Theresa had time to say, before the man pressed a smelly rag against her mouth and nose, and she passed out.

When she regained consciousness, she lay on her back on a hard surface. Her arms had been stretched out over her head, and her legs were spread apart as far as they would go. When she tried to move she noticed they were cuffed, and she also had some kind of belt, tightly buckled around her waist. When she looked around, she could only see bare stone walls and a few torches, and the air was mouldy and damp.
"Where am I?" she confused asked. "And who are you?"
"Ah! Good morning, sleepy head!" she heard a man's voice, and soon the owner of the voice came into view. He looked to be only a few years older than she, had black hair, which was combed back and held in place with what must have been half a tub of Brylcreem. He was dressed in black, shiny shoes, a black tuxedo and cape and a white, frilly shirt. In short, he looked like a budget version of count Dracula, minus the fangs.
"Oh, where are my manners?" he smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself," he took a step back. "I am marquis de Harkonnen. At your service!" he bowed deeply.
"Pleased to meet you, sir." The response came automatically. "My name is..."
"I already know who, and what, you are, my dear!" the marquis interrupted with a smirk. "Now;" he gave her a thoughtful look, and put his fingertips together, "the questions you should be asking yourself are; 'What is he going to do to me', and 'Will I ever get out of here? Well, the answers are; 'Everything that is necessary to get the answers I need, and you will get out, when I'm convinced you're telling the truth."
"Ever hear of asking? All you had to do was ask me, I would have told you everything you wanted to know. And then, some!" Theresa hissed.
"I know you would, dear." He put an ice cold hand on her forehead. "But it's much more fun, getting the information this way. Now; shall we begin?"

During the hours that followed, Theresa was subjected to every form of tickle- or ice torture, known to teen hood, but never once did she disclose any vital information.
"You really don't know, where the girls' secret hide out is; do you? Or who's a member of that club?" Anton was baffled.
"No, I don't." Theresa huffed. "As I'm not a member, they refuse to tell me anything! For obvious reasons."
"Oh, well!" Anton shrugged. "Back to the drawing board!" He left the room.
"HEY!" Theresa shouted and yanked at the cuffs. "Aren't you going to release me?"
"Yes, I am." Anton turned around and faced her. "Eventually."
Her angry screams followed him all the way up the stairs.

Anton, dressed in a beige t-shirt and shorts combination with brown trim he sometimes used as pyjamas, sat in the sofa watching TV, without paying much attention to what it showed. Beside him, on the floor Theresa, dressed in her pink Flannel onesie with feet, and her friend, Vendela, dressed in a pale blue Flannel onesie with feet and green collar and cuffs, and a mop of red, curly hair, lay on their stomachs, holding their heads in their hands.
Suddenly, Anton rose, and said in an irritated voice: "Is anyone really interested in this program? Because I sure am not!"
"Neither am I! I'm only watching, because I thought you were!" Theresa drowsily said, rolling over on her side.
"Nor am I!" Vendela said. "But on the other hand, I'm too bored to think of something else to do."
"If you're too bored to think of anything else to do; then you're really bored!" Theresa giggled.
"Mm; right!" Vendela dryly agreed.
Anton looked at the two girls for a long time, before he nodded and got to his feet.
"Are you up for a challenge/competition?" he asked.
The girls looked at each other, shrugged, and almost in unison said: "Sure!"
"You wait here, and I'll be right back!" He left the room and the girls once again looked at each other and shrugged.
"Wonder what he meant?" Vendela said, almost to herself.
"I think I know. But I'm not going to say anything, in case I'm wrong. Which I don't think I am; but still." Theresa cryptically said.

A little while later, Anton returned holding a tartan bag, which Theresa recognized as their bag of fun.
"Mm; me likes the way you think!" she cooed.
"Thought you would!" Anton replied with a smile. "Now; here's what I want you two to do. I will tie your wrists together behind your backs and your knees and ankles. I will, of course, make sure you can get to the knots in the ropes, especially around your wrists. I will not, however, place them where you can get to them easily. The one who get free the fastest wins. However, the million dollar question is; will I have to gag you too, or are you going to be quiet?"
"You'd best gag us, otherwise we might draw unwanted attention to this house!" Vendela gravely said, and Theresa nodded.
"Right, then; gags it is!"

A couple of minutes later, Theresa lay on her stomach, and watched Vendela being tied up and gagged with a balled up sock, held in place by a scarf, just like her.
"Right," Anton said as he got to his feet. "The winner of this round, gets to tie me up; the looser has to endure being retied and face another round, this time against me. Then, I will face the winner of the first round, and so on. The person who loses the most rounds, will of course be declared the overall looser, and will have to endure whatever punishment the other two can come up with. Agreed?"
The girls looked first at him, then at each other, and nodded, mumbling "M-hm!" through their gags.

Later that night. Anton sat on the edge of Vendela's bed, finishing of the last knot in the rope that held her wrists to the top of the bed.
"I hope you're not angry with us?" he asked, and looked her straight in the eyes.
"For what? Losing a game?" she replied, genuinely surprised.
"Mm, that; and for having ruined your pyjama party."
"Well, I am; a bit." she confessed, but then, she smiled "But this might turn out to be much more fun!"