01 - Bet you I can escape
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By Mad Dan
Friday, July 22nd 2005 - 11:41:23 PM
In the 1970s and 80s, I worked in the design studio of a museum in the UK. Not getting any more specific than that! As it was a sort of educational establishment, I suppose it may just about qualify here.
One of our colleagues, whom we shall call Molly, was a cute blonde, about 21, slightly on the plump side. Molly and a friend of hers, who also came to work at the museum for a while, used to talk about how they'd played tie-up games as kids, and how Molly reckoned she could always escape. She would quite often turn the conversation to bondage, and most of us guys, including myself, would try to be noncommittal about it.
One day, while I was working at my desk on a delicate model, Molly crept up behind me and playfully slapped a big piece of double-sided adhesive on its backing paper over my mouth. Peeling it off, I remarked, "Now you know I owe you one, right?" She grinned and replied, "Oh yeah, you just try it!" Sounded like an invitation to me....
A few days later, we had a large wheeled tin bath in the studio, full of water for wetting big prints we were mounting on boards with a foul-smelling rubber adhesive called Clam.
During our lunch break, Molly was playing with a piece of parachute cord, of which we had quite a lot for tying covers onto stored exhibits. She held the cord up and replied, "Who's going to get tied up and left in the bath?"
I said, in my best melodrama villain voice, "Oh, you are, my dear, you are!" Of course, we both knew nobody was going in the water, but Molly let me take the cord from her. "Bet you anything you like I can escape!" she laughed.
Right, I thought. I love a challenge... After a minute or two of mental experimentation, I made a running loop on one end of the cord, which was soft and supple. I took Molly's left hand and snapped the loop onto her wrist. Pulling her hand behind her, I took the cord around her waist to meet her right hand, which I'd also pulled behind her and across to her left side.
Tying the free end around her right wrist, I found what I'd expected; Molly's fists were at her sides, arms crossed behind her back, and the harder she pulled, the tighter the slip-knotted loops got.
After a couple of minutes' fruitless struggling, she said, "Hmmm... I can't get out of this one. Are you going to untie me now?"
"Oh, no" I replied. "Not just yet. I owe you a gagging, remember?" Molly nodded. "Okay, but don't make it too good, because I can't breathe easily through my nose." I promised to be careful. All we had at the time was a roll of three-inch masking tape, so I ripped off a piece about six inches long and smoothed it over her mouth. She giggled, "mmmphed" a bit, and then opened her mouth. Needless to say, the tape pulled away from her lower lip. "Aha!" she laughed. "Now I'm going to run screaming down the exhibition hall!" She made as if to run out the door.
I said, "Oh no, you don't", and ran after her, grabbing her with a firm handgag over the tape, which again sealed her mouth. She seemed to be breathing easily enough on the edge of my hand, and laughing as I manoeuvred her over to a swivel chair and lashed her to it with a couple of turns of cord. She pretended to be a real prisoner for a minute or so, "mmmphing" and pulling exaggerated gag faces before lunch time ended and I had to release her.
That wasn't the only tie-up game we had, but it was by far the best. Another time, two or three of us tied Molly to a chair with a thirty-foot red tubular plastic kite tail. She got out of that very easily, and it was worse than useless as a gag. Ah, happy days!
We're still in touch, but nobody mentions the dreaded "B" word any more. We have to pretend to have grown out of it. Perhaps Molly has, but I don't think it would be polite to ask any more.
Mad Dan
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