02 - Some TUGs don't end well
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By Rubicant
Wednesday, July 25th 2001 - 12:24:43 AM
Though my babysitter Sherry had taught me much about tying someone up, two major events occurred in the spring of 1985 that put a severe crimp in my TUG experience.
Soon after I had tied up Sherry for the first time, I was feeling a little adventurous, having gotten my first taste of the game and liking what I had experienced. I found myself looking for places and reasons to tie someone up. My younger brother Anthony, who was now two and a half years old, was in his phase where he was running around getting into everything he could see to find out what happened when he touched, pulled, pushed, kicked, or chewed it. Naturally this made my parents a bit of a wreck: my mom started smoking again about this time and she still smokes today.
One day we were all outside in the back yard and the phone rang. The only phone we had was inconveniently located in the kitchen at the front of the house, so Mom couldn't see the back yard while she was on the phone. She told me to keep an eye on Anthony and she went inside.
About a week previous, I had seen some show on TV which showed several people tied to stakes and being menaced by Indians, though I never found out what the show was. Anthony was a bundle of energy running circles around the yard, and I got an idea of how to make him easier to watch. I went into the garage and found a big spindle of rope used to tie stuff down to the car on many occasions. I took the spindle outside and started to tie my brother to the big tree in our yard with it. I tied the rope to a root that was jutting out of the ground, pulled Anthony up against the tree, and ran circles around the tree playing the rope out of the spindle.
It wasn't long before Anthony began to bawl. I had forgotten that the bark on the tree was very rough, as many scraped shins and bleeding hands from climbing it should have taught me. I had tied him tight enough that he was in real pain, and as soon as I realized this an overpowering stench hit me: he had crapped in his diaper. Being the thoughtless six year old kid that I was, I dropped the spindle of rope and ran towards the front of the yard, only to run smack into my dad who was coming in the gate after returning home. He saw what I had done, and, realizing that he would have to untie Anthony while fighting off the diaper smell, got really mad. When we had untied Anthony, Dad grabbed me and Anthony by the hands and pulled us inside, where he got stuck changing Anthony's diaper because Mom was still on the phone. As he took off Anthony's shirt we were all shocked at the bruises on his back from where he was pressed into the tree. This was the last straw for Dad; he took me in the living room and gave me a good spanking, and I was sent to my room for the night.
This was obviously a bad turnout for what I considered to be a game. Knowing that I would have to be more careful in the future to avoid parental interference, I went ahead looking for opportunities as the spring wore on. One weekend, about a month before school let out, my aunt and uncle and my cousin Erin came over after church to spend the day at our place. I think that it was for my uncle's birthday, but I don't remember. Erin had just turned six herself, being almost a year younger than me, and I remember she was wearing some kind of poofy blue dress that reminded me of the princess in some cartoon which I can't remember. Anyway, my aunt and uncle had just had their second child, and the adults stayed in the dining room with Anthony and the baby for much of the day, so Erin and I were left to our own devices to find something to do.
After our sixth game of UNO, I took my opportunity and told Erin that Sherry had shown me a fun game to play that she had learned in Girl Scouts. (I still cringe when I remember myself saying that.) I went with her down to the basement rec room and told her that we would take turns tying each other up and hiding, and when someone got free they had to find the other person and tie them up. To my delight, Erin enthusiastically agreed to the game. I told her to wait while I got the rope, and I snuck out to the garage and cut off two pieces of rope from the spindle.
When I got back Erin was putting on a pair of white gloves that apparantly went with her dress. She commented that the rope wouldn't hurt if she wore gloves when she was tied up. I remember being amazed that she knew that, but it made sense to me.
When I was ready I told her to put her hands behind her back, which she did, and I tied her wrists with loops of rope and a cinch. I had Erin sit down on the couch and I tied her ankles together. This time I had enough rope for cinch loops, so I put them in. As I finished tying her ankles I remembered that Sherry had been able to pull her hands around her bottom and over her feet to get them in front of her. Erin was not a skinny girl, but I didn't think it would have mattered. She was wearing a wide belt with her dress, and there were belt loops on her sides, so I unbuckled her belt and had her put her bound hands between her belt and her back. I then buckled the belt as tight as I could.
I remember getting all kinds of ideas while I was doing this. Tie her wrist ropes to her belt. Use her belt to fasten her to the joist support pole. Tie her hands behind the pole. I decided it would be too much trouble to change the way she was tied now, so after I put her belt back on I told her I was finished. I also told her that if any of the adults asked her what we were doing when she came upstairs to search for me, she was supposed to tell them that we were playing hide and seek. As I started to leave to go hide Erin called me back and asked me to wait, because she didn't think she could get loose. I told her I would leave when it looked like she was going to get loose, otherwise, I would untie her hands and let her undo her own ankles before hunting me down. She said that was okay.
Erin lay on the couch and struggled. It didn't take her long to get her hands clear of her belt, as I had feared would happen. I'd fix that next time. As she kicked her feet testing her ankle bonds she ended up kicking her shoes off. I picked them up and put them on the coffee table, and waited for her to make some progress freeing herself so I could go hide. I had the perfect spot picked... Sure enough, after a few minutes, she tried to pull her hands down around her bottom, but she was having trouble. She wasn't as limber as Sherry was, and she realized that she would need some kind of leverage to get her hands pushed down. She decided to try to use the edge of the couch. She swung her feet over the edge of the couch and carefully stood up, then crouched down and leaned her arms against the couch while she pushed her bottom up in the air with her legs. It worked. Erin always was a pretty smart girl, and we were slight rivals in school, but this show of ingenuity really impressed me. Her arms popped around her hips and were now tied behind her knees. All she needed to do now was lie back down so she could put her feet in the air and put her hands around them.
Then the inevitable happened.
Our basement floor wasn't carpeted. Except for a rug, the floor was smooth waxed tile like one would see at a shopping mall, kind of like linoleum. When Erin turned around and tried to lean forward to get back up on the couch, she moved too quickly, and she was jerked back by her bound hands behind her knees. Her balance shifted backward, her knees buckled, and her socked feet slipped out from under her. She fell backward and hit the back of her head on the edge of the heavy wood coffee table.
I ran over to her and shook her, asking if she was okay. As I sat her up against the table I realized that blood was dripping down the back of her head and fairly streaming down her neck. She was stunned, but within five seconds she was fully conscious and screaming in pain. The adults were on the basement steps within ten seconds, and I had no chance to hide the evidence. My uncle cut her loose with his penknife and was out the door with my aunt and on the way to the hospital within a minute. She would have a minor concussion and need stitches to close the wound.
When they had left, my dad gave me the most severe corporal punishment I would ever receive: six strappings with his belt, after which he sent me to my room. It had the desired effect: I had no desire to try to get into tie up games for a very long time. Sherry would restore my faith in the games by a small amount several weeks later, but "tie up is bad" had been seared into my brain.
To be continued
Rubicant
antispam@rubicantatsofthomedotnet
US
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Rubicant's stories
- 01 - Being coached by Sherry the babysitter (m/f)
- 02 - Some TUGs don't end well (m/m, m/f)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section