Balls: The rematch
Story index at the bottom
By Sarobah
Fri Oct 21, 2011 6:28 pm
My latest TUGS adventure happened three weeks ago. It was essentially an extended replay of my "Balls" story and a sequel to my "Long Long Weekend" adventure. The scene-setting takes some time before we get to the good bits (i.e. the bondage).
BALLS : THE REMATCH
Once upon a time, in the land of Oz, there ruled a benevolent prince. His righteous deeds were countless. And of all the blessings bestowed upon his grateful subjects, the most splendid was Football. To this day, though memories have dimmed and monuments have decayed, the advent of Football is celebrated throughout the realm in story, song and sacrament. And each year the tribes gather in their holy places to carry on the noble quest and rekindle the intrepid spirits of their ancestors.
Yet such are the ways of men that, over time, disputation and heresy divided the followers of Football. They turned in anger against each other, until the country was cleaved into hostile factions, each claiming theirs as the one true Code. In time, as passions ebbed, peace was restored and the factions went their separate ways, each preserving its own rituals and calendars. But in the most auspicious years, when the planets align, the people of Oz are as one, downing tools and sheathing weapons to pay homage to the heroes and saints of Football. Of such a legacy, the good prince would have indeed been proud.
1. Game Plan
Two years ago, I wrote about an evening of balls and bondage. For the benefit of readers not familiar with my oeuvre, I shall reiterate my introductory remarks from that story. Australian residents may wish to skip the next few paragraphs because you won't learn anything new here.
"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death. I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that." So said Bill Shankly, the great Scottish manager of Liverpool FC. In Australia, that counts as a tepid understatement. Here in the land of plenty we have four distinct football codes, all followed with equal zeal. However, it's an unwritten law (I am given to understand) that you are permitted to support up to three, but at least one must be denounced and denigrated with undying fervour.
The dominant species are Australian Rules and Rugby League. For the unacquainted, the former might be likened to basketball played on two soccer fields placed end to end, and the latter to two Neanderthal clans bruting it out in a paddock (though I may be slightly biased). Normally their schedules do not intersect, but this year both grand finals were held on the same weekend.
The grand final is the local equivalent of a league championship, when the Aussie Rules and Rugby League national titles are decided. This is the time, in the early spring, when the nation - or a goodly part of it - holds its collective breath, as titans clash and the gods themselves contend in vain for the attention of mortals, when the streets are festooned with bunting and awash with beer, when stout hearts flutter and stiff lips tremble, when strong men weep with parochial pride, when a single, heartfelt cry issues from the mouths of millions: "You ber-luddy beauty!"
To further borrow from my original story: Women are not immune to footy fever, and even I confess some partiality towards the sight of strapping lads in tight shorts, legs pumping, thighs bulging, sweat glistening on muscular forearms; making passes, thrusting, plunging and penetrating, going all the way, looking for an opening and banging it in to score. Some people see all sorts of sexual imagery in this, but I don't get that. To me it's all about how the players handle their balls.
However, the footy finals are, in the end, a celebration of testosterone and a reaffirmation of manhood. Thus there is one simple rule that every woman must learn if she is to ensure social harmony and domestic tranquillity. Never get between a man and his football... except to bring him more beer.
This year, the Aussie Rules grand final was held on Saturday afternoon and the Rugby League on Sunday evening. Such an auspicious event could not pass uncommemorated, so my good friends Jack and Sabrina announced that they would be hosting a Footy Finals Fiesta at their house in the country. It's the same place that featured in our last great adventure (chronicled in my story "The Long, Long Weekend"). We would get started at lunchtime on Saturday, stay both nights and return to the city on Monday morning. Including the matches, preliminaries, wrap-ups and rerun highlights, about twelve hours of TV viewing were scheduled; but not all the fun and games were to be played out on the television screen. Which is why, of course, I'm writing this.
2. Players Roster
Our hosts were Jack and Sabrina. He's my former boyfriend. We broke up on good terms and are still close. It was Jack who revived my love of bondage games at a time when I thought I had left such pleasures behind, and I repaid him by introducing him to Sabrina. He's charming and charismatic, with a devil-may-care approach to life. She's serene and self-reliant, a very successful architect who is the breadwinner and owns both houses that they share. She is also a tall, gorgeous, incredibly sexy and submissive woman who surrenders willingly and joyfully to her man. Before him, she'd had no real experience of bondage games - except for what she intriguingly calls "some experimental stuff" - but these are now a central part of her relationship with Jack and their friendship with Rob and me.
Andrea and Luke are in many ways the polar opposites of Jack and Sabrina, and of each other. They are the type of couple whom you expect will break up any day now, but something keeps drawing them back together. She is volatile and strong-willed, while he is indolent and complacent, but they have a chemistry that in some mysterious way actually works. Like all of us in the "play group", they love their tie-up games; in fact they met at one of Jack ʼn' Sabrina's parties. Although they sometimes switch roles, their preference is for Luke to be on the receiving end of the ropes.
Alex is my brother, two and a bit years younger than me, in my youth my bête noire and - when I had no other option - my TUGs collaborator. Until he met and fell for Michelle, he was reckless and feckless, but to my utter amazement they have survived and thrived as a couple. Like Jack and Sabrina, she's the more mature in both age and attitude; and the fact that Michelle has tolerated my Lil Bro's peccadilloes for so long inspires in me both awe and bewilderment. Also like Jack and Sabrina, I was responsible for bringing them together, and I was only mildly surprised to discover that Michelle has her own history of bondage games. When it comes to arranging pair-ups, I must have some sort of internal TUGs heat-seeking device.
And of course there were me and the love of my life, Rob. It's interesting that all of the couples in our group are opposites-attract partnerships. I am strident, he is insouciant, I'm hyperactive while he's easygoing. Although Rob has never really understood my fondness for bondage games, he plays along and has become quite proficient. He has even learnt how to assert his dominance, even if he still needs the occasional prodding (metaphorically speaking).
3. Cat Power
We rendezvoused at noon on Saturday. Rob and I came with Alex and Michelle, with Andrea and Luke arriving just a few minutes later. Sabrina greeted us on the front veranda with a tray of cold drinks. She took our bags, and as we came inside Jack was already in the living room, reposed before the television set. I saw immediately that there were just four seats arranged within the field of view - the sofa and two arm chairs. Michelle noticed that as well and frowned. She loves her football - she had just about sent me to crazy land with her carrying on about it during the two-hour drive. So her suspicion turned into reality and her glower into a grimace when our hostess ushered the boys to their seats and us girls to the bedroom.
I have to say that amongst Sabrina's many fine qualities is a penchant for meticulous planning, as well as a slightly off-beat sense of humour. Arrayed on the bed in four neat sets were outfits like those we'd worn on our "Balls" night two years before. There were two jerseys (the sleeveless variety) for each of the teams playing today - the Geelong Cats (blue and white), and the Collingwood Magpies (black and white). Onto the front of each of the Collingwood shirts she had printed a cartoon of a magpie carrying off a kitten in its claws (rather gruesome, really, for sweet-natured Sabrina). Geelong's had a cat eating a meat pie (because the Magpies are colloquially known as... well, I'm sure you get it). Sabrina and Michelle took the Cats' jerseys, Andrea and I the Pies'.
The rest of our uniform consisted of frilly knickers, sheer silk stockings, a lace-and-ribbon suspender belt - all exquisite, expensive and ultra-feminine in quirky contrast to the football jersey to be worn on top. Fortunately this time there were no stiletto heels.
Andrea heaved an expressly audible sigh. "So it's this again?" she said without speaking. She's the no-nonsense type who doesn't care for the girlie-girl image. She'd arrived dressed the same way as Luke, in denim dungarees and hiking boots. Her hair these days is cropped short and spiky. She held the sleek stockings and pretty little panties at arm's length and scrutinized them with a wrinkled nose and a wry grin.
As we began to strip, Sabrina took off her bra as well, and the rest of us did likewise, without questioning, including Andrea. When we were naked, the four of us looked around at each other and smiled.
"The boys don't deserve us," Michelle said.
Once in costume, we came out and paraded before the males. They studied us with approving looks, before Sabrina tapped Andrea and me on the shoulder and beckoned towards the kitchen. We followed her and commenced our womanly duties - preparing and wrapping plates and bowls to maintain a six-hour continuous flow of snacks to our menfolk, checking beer supplies, restocking the fridge, etcetera.
Wondering what had happened to Michelle, I stole a quick peek into the living room. She was standing rigidly at attention, her fists clenched, her head bowed but with a defiant glare towards Alex, who was informing her that she should remain silent. She slowly nodded, with gritted teeth. From what I gathered, she had been granted special dispensation to watch the game (but nothing else) in return for keeping quiet and serving the males their beer and nibbles. But her dressing down (so to speak) had nothing to do with Alex asserting his dominance and enforcing her submission. He is a Collingwood supporter and she a Geelong partisan. And since her team was the odds-on favourite to win, this was his pre-emptive strike against any gloating on her part. Only my brother could exploit a tie-up session to such a nefarious end.
It was one o'clock now and the pre-game telecast was due to begin. I was bringing out four fresh beers and the boys were already engaged in a spirited debate about the relative merits and flaws of each team's tactics and strategies, talents and skills. Michelle, I could see, wanted desperately to have her say - heck, she probably knew more about the game and the players than any of the males - but she obediently kept her silence. She was sitting on the carpet - more precisely on her heels - between Alex on the sofa and Rob in the adjacent armchair. Her hands were folded in her lap and her head was still bowed, so she had to raise her eyes to see the television screen. Nevertheless, she looked contented.
There was still more than an hour before "first bounce" (that's the Aussie Rules equivalent of the kick-off), and the boys were already becoming bored with their analysis and argument, so Jack summoned the rest of us to join them. There was nothing left to do in the kitchen, so Sabrina shepherded Andrea and me out with a completely superfluous "We've been called."
Michelle glanced up at us as we formed a line to one side of the TV set. Alex leaned across and tapped her between the shoulders. She knew what to do, putting her hands behind her head, fingertips just touching. At the same time, she raised herself to a kneeling position and shuffled sideways so that she was positioned directly in front of my brother, in fact between his outstretched legs. He grabbed her left hand and pulled it down behind her back - somewhat brusquely, because she winced as he did so. He had already prepared a rope (the nylon cord we normally use in our "play parties", made more pliable with a soaking in fabric softener) with two loops, one of which he placed over her wrist. He then brought down her other hand and secured it. He tugged hard to bring the insides of her wrists together, and her face contorted again, as he cinched the rope tightly. This pulled her arms inwards until her elbows almost touched, drawing her shoulders back stiffly. She allowed herself a faint groan before settling back on her haunches, but her lips curled into a smile and I could see the tension visibly draining out of her. More than any of us, Michelle loves being tied up just for the tactile pleasure of it.
The other guys watched her being bound. Then Jack ordered Sabrina, Andrea and me to kneel and to "ball up" by bending forward until our foreheads touched the carpet and our chins were between our knees.
"Nice knickers, ladies" said Luke. I heard Andrea's soft growl.
We placed our hands behind our backs and were bound in the same way as Michelle - except that Rob crossed my wrists, making the tie a lot less strenuous.
"Sarah's had some chest problems," he explained, and ignored Luke's snide chuckle. (A stringent behind-the-back tie puts a strain on your chest - nice for emphasizing a B-cup bustline, but not so nice when you're coming off a bout of bronchitis.)
"No need for explanations," said Jack. "She's your property." I knew he was trying to provoke me, so I didn't react.
Once our arms were tied, we were instructed to lean forward even more, into a bottoms-up position, pushing with our feet to raise our ankles off the floor so they could be bound as well. Sabrina quietly moaned as Jack "assisted" her, putting his hand on her backside to lift her. I guess he obtained extra leverage by... Well, you can fill in the details.
Next came the inevitable gag and blindfold. For the latter, Jack had supplied crimson-coloured satin scarves. However, for our gagging each of the guys had his own preference. Rob is aware that my personal favourite is the ball-gag. Naturally I had brought a couple of my own, but as I felt the orb being pressed against my lips, I could tell from its size that it was one of Sabrina's - just a little too big for my mouth. Now I don't expect a gag to be comfortable - it's sort of missing the point if it is - but I was just a little dismayed because I knew that pretty soon my jaws would be aching. But I didn't resist, opening wide and accepting my fate. In any case, I was totally confident that Rob would not let me suffer too long.
(In digression, I should add that, as usual, we had a safe word and several safe signals, applicable in different situations. We use the same ones every time so there can be no confusion or misunderstanding).
I could tell that Michelle was gagged as well, because I heard the familiar muted gurgling sounds coming from her direction. Well, that made the injunction against talking automatically redundant. On the other hand, I was sure that even my depraved brother would not be so cruel as to blindfold her.
We were left in our balled-up position for maybe thirty minutes. The boys ignored us as they switched their attention back to the television screen. Nevertheless, every so often Sabrina would moan or Andrea squeal behind their gags. I was in the middle, and though we were close enough that our bodies were touching and I could feel each shudder and shiver, I had no idea what was being done to them. And I received none of such treatment; which was a bit of a pity, because it was becoming monotonous, hunched tied up on the floor. Because my gag didn't quite fit, most of the ball protruded from my teeth, leaving gaps at the corners of my mouth for saliva to dribble out and drip onto the carpet. Whenever, from fatigue or boredom, I let my head droop forward, my nose touched the damp patch. It was a strangely unpleasant sensation which became the focus of my concentration. I do that a lot, allowing my mind to drift, as a sort of escape from my bonds when I'm outside my comfort zone; but I cannot always control where it will settle.
Naturally, I loved every second of it.
Finally, just when I was beginning to wonder how long we would be like this, Sabrina's and Andrea's bodies were moved away from me. There were shuffling noises and more moaning, and then it was my turn. One of the guys seized my ankles and another my shoulders, and I was pulled out of my balled-up position until I was lying on my stomach with my legs stretched out. My crimped and cramped limbs tingled for a moment as they straightened. But I knew from experience what was coming, and as soon as I felt one hand on my heels and another on my backside, I bent my knees to bring my feet up for my ankles to be bound to my wrists. It was not an easy hog-tie. To relieve the pressure on my arms and legs I had to transfer the strain by arching my body backwards, until that became difficult and I had to reverse the process - over and over again. The three of us were puffing and whimpering through our gags. It was not so much painful as exhausting, and also rather humiliating, forced to perform these prostrate gymnastics for the entertainment of our menfolk. So it's a good thing that, even when bound, gagged and blindfolded, lying on my belly on the carpet, I'm still a show pony.
I was expecting some extra torment to follow, such as tickle torture, but the guys' attention had returned to the television, and that's how it was for the next hour. During that time Michelle must have been untied, because her masters were telling her when to fetch more beer or bring out another plate of snacks. I knew she was still gagged, because every so often one of the men would playfully question her about something or - more cruelly - insult her beloved Cats, and she would reply with the familiar garbled sounds and an added gurgle of outrage.
The strain of the hog-tie was by now excruciating, but in a pleasurable way, like how you feel after strenuous exercise. The discomfort actually has a rejuvenating effect. Just as in a workout there's no gain without pain, in a tie-up, if it ain't tight it ain't right. Nevertheless, I felt a sense of relief when, shortly before the start of the game (the football, that is), things changed. I don't remember any of the pre-match "entertainment" (to my advantage, from what I've since been told), but the national anthem was sung by one of my favourite performers, Vanessa Amorosi. Lest my patriotism be doubted, I must say that I would have stood for it, had I been able.
Just before the bounce, Luke decided it would be fun to turn the three of us into a "sculpture." That sounded ominous until we realized that he just meant a statue or tableau. The men loosened our hog-ties but kept our wrists and ankles still bound together, but loosely enough that when they propped us up, we could kneel with our backs straight. With the men guiding us, we shuffled about on our knees until the three of us were brought together in a triangle formation, facing inwards and close enough that our bodies were pressed against each other. A long piece of rope was used to encircle us, entwined between and around our arms to hold us securely in place. Another rope was then looped around our necks, with some slack but drawn tight enough to bring our faces close so our cheeks touched, we could each feel the others' breath and I could sniff Sabrina's delicate perfume. Andrea was sucking and rasping past the edges of her gag rather than breathing through her nose. She does that when she gets angry or excited or turned on. She was probably all three. And she was squirming, making it uncomfortable for Sabrina and me who had to share in her wriggling about.
I heard a great cheer from the television as the game got underway. Each "quarter" lasts around 25 minutes (taking stoppages into account), but it seemed to drag on for a lot longer, as it always does when you're bound and immobilized. As the quarter-time break arrived, all I knew was that Geelong went into it with a slim lead. I had tried to follow the game by listening. The way the three of us were placed, I was facing the TV set, but of course I was blindfolded. After about ten minutes I gave up and began to zone out. I don't recall much more except the harsh clutches of the ropes and the soft pressure of the other girls' bodies against mine. It was not easy trying to stay upright since, being tied together, we had no flexibility to shift or adjust; and our knees were getting sore. But what I remember most vividly (and most fondly) was that both Andrea and Sabrina were becoming quite aroused. It was not just their rapid breathing that I could feel through the fabric of our shirts.
Of course, it was not only them.
Sarobah
Australia
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Sarobah's stories
- 01 - The Adventure Begins (mm/f)
- 02 - Mayday (F+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 03 - The Obligatory Babysitter Story (mf/f)
- 04 - Bond-Expo (M+F+/M+F+) in Archives for Adults
- 05 - Captured Commando (f/f)
- 06 - Slavegirl (M+F+/F+, M/F)
- 07 - Uniformity (m/f)
- 08 - Tent Ropes - The True Story (FFF/M, M+/F+)
- 09 - Tent Ropes - Fiction (FFF/M, M+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 10 - Family Ties (m/ff, m/fff)
- 11 - Setting the record straight... Family Ties, # 2 (m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 12 - The other end of the rope (m/ff, m/f) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 13 - Adventures in Tieland (f/m, mmm/f, m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 14 - Setting the record straight... The awesome foursome (f/f, m/fff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 15 - Back in the game! (M/F)
- 16 - The Resort (M/F, m/f, M+m+/F+f+)
In Archives for Adults - Balls: The rematch (MMMM/FFFF)
- Birthday Girl (M/F)
- The Girl Next Door (M/F)
- Tie-up Tuesday (M/F)
- The prisoners' dilemma (m/f)
- Château Chaînerie (mmf/f)
- THE TIE-UP CHRONICLES (Continued) (m/f)
- Two first times (m/f)
- Adversity (F/F)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section
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Index of all stories in the "Archive for Adults" section