Chad : Molly Wants to be Tied (m/f)

[JohnnyRockets]

[source: Canuck's page]


I was 15 years old in 1998. So was my best friend Molly. We grew up together as neighbors when our parents each bought houses in a new development three houses down from the other. We had other friends, but with our houses so near each other and with our distinct lack of transportation (neither of us even had a bike) we spent a lot of time together.

It was one of those days. Hot, in the middle of August. Molly, with her red hair and freckles, burned like a vampire in the sun, so a lot of times we stayed indoors. Like this day.

I had had an interest in bondage for a couple years now. I don't remember why, but it was there. Not that I told anyone. The only person who knew was my older sister, who caught me in a self-bondage session when I was 14 and she was home from college. Good sister that she was, she told me not to tie myself up because it was dangerous. To placate me, she tied me up a couple times. Nothing serious, nothing too tight, but still good. Unknowingly, she taught me a few things on good knots.

Molly and I were bored, of course. Both her parents were at work. She wore a pink t-shirt and jean shorts, I had a yellow t-shirt and khaki shorts. We were both barefoot. The TV was on some crappy made-for-TV movie that I can't remember the name of. Then the greatest thing to ever happen to me happened. The movie had an extended scene of the female lead bound and gagged. I looked on, trying desperately not to look interested while at the same time being enraptured. I think my jaw was open. Molly did not look over at me while she watched the scene.

"What's it like to be tied up?" Molly asked, completely normal-like. I nearly choked on my soda.

"Umm, I don't know?" I asked, not quite non-chalant.

Then she made my throat go dry. "I'd like to find out." I had, of course, entertained fantasies of tying up Molly. She was my best friend, and I would probably never have brought it up to her, but the fantasies came anyway. And now here she was, suggesting it to me. I barely knew what to say.

"You would?"

"Yeah. Some people like it, so I wonder what the deal is," she said, seemingly staring into my soul.

"Okay," I said idiotically.

"Let's find some rope," said Molly, who, when she made decisions, didn't fart around.

Molly and I were in luck. Her dad had an unopened package of cotton clothesline, perfect in Molly's opinion. She cut the long rope into smaller ones of varying length. "Tie me up," she asked, and I obliged.

Molly's wrists were behind her back, and I tied them together with several loops of clothesline. Using a technique my sister taught me (again, unknowingly), I wrapped the ends around the rope between the wrists, cinching it off. Molly tested it, found it unyielding. "Interesting," she said.

I moved to her bare feet. She did not resist as I bound her ankles, similar to what I did with her wrists. She struggled on the floor. "I don't think I can escape," she said. She was smiling a little.

"No, I don't think so," I said, getting into it now.

"Are you done?" she asked.

I considered, then said no. "Want to try the hogtie?" I asked. She didn't know what that was and I told her.

"You sound like some sort of expert," she teased.

"Umm, no, err," I stammered.

"Whatever, tie me in the hogtie. Two things though, remember that I trust you enough to let you do this to me and that when we're done I'm tying you up."

"Right," I said, agreeing to this turn of events. "I trust you too." She smiled again. I grabbed her ankles and lifted them toward her wrists, then used a few wraps of rope to tie them together. It wasn't very tight, and as Molly was rather flexible she still had a lot of wiggle room. She looked good like that, waving her feet rhythmically as she wrestled futilely against her bonds. Her struggling while on her stomach had caused her shirt to rise up and expose that stomach.

Then she stopped struggling, after about five minutes, and laid still. "I'm really stuck," she mused. "If you don't untie me, I'll never get out." I nodded. "I think...I think this is fun."

I laughed. "Yeah, me too." I was nervous, but thrilled to hear she was having fun. I went over to her and sat directly behind her. "You know what I think is fun..."

To this point, Molly had been calm and thoughtful, but now she panicked. She knew what I was going to do. "No no no no don't tickle me please!" We both knew she was deathly ticklish, much more than myself, and I was rather ticklish anyway. I knew she loved tickle fights, but how would she handle it if she couldn't fight back? I asked her this. She calmed down again. "Okay, tickle me if you must. But not too much!"

"Of course," I agreed. I lightly stroked her tummy and ribs, and she thrashed and laughed. I knew she hated when I tickled like that instead of digging in with my fingers. I also knew she was going to pay me back when she tied me up, but I didn't care. I switched to tickling the soles of her feet, which were her most ticklish body part, dancing across both feet, and despite her struggles and laughing she couldn't escape. And she was trying very hard to break the rope but straining on them, which I laughed at and taunted her for. I was really having fun now tickling her and almost forgot to stop. But I did, and she laid on the ground, exhausted. She was now really sweating, too.

"Was that fun?" I asked. She nodded, tears in her eyes from the laughter.

"I still hate you for that," she said, not being very serious. I untied her quickly, and she picked herself off the ground slowly and sat on the floor against the couch. "I'm tired," she complained. "We'll have to tie you up later."

"Sure," I shrugged, moving to sit next to her. We went back to watching TV, and she fell asleep, her head falling on my shoulder. I fell asleep too, and we both napped. I got tied up when we woke up, but that's my next story!