01 - Cowboys and Indians
Story index at the bottom
By Kevin J
Wednesday April 19th 2000 06:32:10
Greetings From Tennessee
Hello! My Name is Kevin!
I've been looking over this site for a few weeks now and I want you all to know that I relly enjoy the stories I have read. Most of them are terrific, and I must say that (to use a well-worn phrase) I never knew that other people who enjoy a good tie-up game like me ever existed until now.
I have several tie-up stories involving my cousins Karen, Crissy, and Sharen that I am in the process of writing for future posting to this site. I am looking forward to sharing them all with you, the people who know how to relly have fun!
Kevin J
Tennessee
USA
Wednesday April 19th 2000 06:16:06
This is my first major post, so here it comes!
I guess the thrill of a good tie-up game got started for me, Kevin J, back when I was seven or eight.
My favorite prime time shows back then were SWAT, Starsky and Hutch, Police Story, Barnaby Jones, Hawaii Five-O, Charlie's Angels, and the like. (Tells my age doesn't it?) Anybody who has seen these classics already knows that many of the episodes featured the customary bad-guy-tying-up-the-victim scenes. They usually followed the same formula with the victim getting rescued at the end, but I personally thought the whole story matter was cool. Those scenes built tension and added a flair of excitement to them. We saw the bad guys being bad and the good guys being their best.
But the thing I remember the most to those scenes was the inventive variety that the dastardly ones exacted over their prisoners. If they weren't bound hand and foot and left writhing on the floor, they were tied to posts, chairs, beds, ceilings, you name it. They used rope, chains, handcuffs, tape, belts, telephone wire, and so on (I even remember a scene where one was tied using panty hose.) The variety of ways they used to stifle their speech or hamper their sight was not to be outdone either.
My little brother Matt, who was five or six at the time, saw them with me as did my neighborhood pals and my cousins. We saw these shows as entertainment, and nothing more; to my knowledge, none of us grew up maladjusted or became perverts because we liked to play Cops-and-Robbers or Cowboys-and-Indians as children. There was no sexual innuendo to our play. Heck, at that age, we all probably thought that babies came from the hospital gift shop! It was just good, clean, honest fun.
Having a large family like ours provided Matt and myself with an abundance of people to play with. Between my father's and my mother's side we had 13 (yes, 13) aunts and uncles, most of which had children around our age. Add to that five sets of second cousins with their children and one should see the picture. Needless to say, Thanksgivings continue to be quite interesting every year.
The most memorable tie-up games we ever played were with our cousins Karen, Chrissy, Sharen, and Ronald. Karen, who was Matt's age, and Chrissy, who was a year younger, were sisters from my father's side of the family. They lived next door to grandmother which was almost two hours away. We didn't get to see them often, but when we did we made the most of it. Sharen and her brother Ronald did not live as far away as the other two; we tended to see them a lot. They were from my mother's side of the family and were the same ages respectively as Karen and Chrissy. They were all fun to play with, were terrific sports at the game (as were we when it was our turn) and became equally as skilled in it.
At our young ages, the games were played with child-like simplicity. In the case of Karen and Chrissy, we played Cowboys-and-Indians outdoors under the shade of several mimosa trees whenever we visited and patterned after the movies of the time (a.k.a. "me kidnap paleface squaw.")
Matt and myself on such an occasion one warm day, armed with tree-branch tomahawks and sections of cotton cord, stormed the settler's jungle-gym camp, where we found our hapless prey. Under the threat of being "indian-tortured" (we found out a long time ago that they were extremely ticklish), they surrendered to their fate. Dutifully turning their backs to us, they bring their hands behind, allowing us to subdue them.
Matt usually tied Karen, so that left Chrissy to me. I cross her hands behind her and select a three-foot section. I loop her wrists horizontally twice, then cinch it firmly, but gently, ever careful not to make it too constricting. Mindful of the times my mother warned us not to "cut off the circulation," I ask her, "Is it too tight?"
Chrissy shakes her head. "No, I;m okay." With that bit of help, I continue binding my captive. Having ample amount of cord left, I loop her wrists vertically twice over the horizontal ones, then tie it off with a simple knot. I leave her feet free so she can walk, but I sit my prisoner down to help my brother Matt with Karen; he's not as good with knots as I am.
But he had done an admirable job on her this time, so I leave his job alone. After threatening Karen with "indian-torture" if she ran, Matt helps me help Chrissy to her feet and we prod our two captives to our camp several trees away.
Matt and myself arrive at our tree- covered village with our bound captives (Karen and Chrissy) when we ran into a problem: what do we do with them? Most captive palefaces on TV were tied to a post, but there was not any provided for us. Then Karen says, "What about those?" and nods toward a group of pear trees. As Chrissy shoots her sister a dirty look, my brother and I consider this possibility. The branches started a little higher than we were tall and the trunk was smooth and about the diameter of a fence post. Perfect!
We escort our helpful captives to the pear trees, then turn them around to undo their bonds. We then back them up to separate trunks, bringing their wrists around, and redo their bonds. Matt and myself then step back to inspect our work as the two girls giggle and test their bonds.
They struggled a little and the rope seemed to hold, but something still seemed to be missing from the picture. Matt started teasing them as I examined our stash of rope. I look back at the three again when the inspiration hit me. Matt had walked between them and Chrissy pivoted on her trunk to face him--they still could move!!
This simply would not do. I gather two fairly long sections of rope and approach then saying, "Matt, we didn't tie 'em good enough." The girls' eyes nearly saucer out. They squeal and giggle as Matt takes one section of rope smiling. And so we start back to work on them; Matt takes Karen, and I get Chrissy again...
I had a fairly long section to work with here, so I started at Chrissy's ankles. I bring them together and wind one end of the rope around them twice before tying them in a simple knot. Then I gather the rest of the rope and begin to circle the tree with it. With each pass I made, the rope wrapped Chrissy to the tree that much tighter and higher: her calves, knees, thighs, waist. I pause for a moment to position her arms against the tree to include them in the wrap when I see that I am running short on rope. I wrap her arms to the tree, bring the rope across her chest and back twice then tie it off.
I step back and smiled, proud of my handiwork; I then glance at Matt to consider his. He chose to wrap Karen in a fashion similar to the way I had done Chrissy. But he had chosen to start it at her waist, leaving Karen's feet undone. I help him finish his job, then I return to the stash and collect a short section of cord. I bring Karen's ankles together and bind them the way I had done her sister. "Always tie the feet so they can't kick us." I say to my brother.
We both step back to inspect again, this time we were satisfied with the results. To make things interesting, we say menacingly, "If you don't get loose soon, you know what you'll get." They giggle and squirm some more as we stroll back to our camp.
Several minutes pass, but (to our surprise) Karen and Chrissy still have not freed themselves. I say to Matt loud enough for the girls to hear, "Looks like they need some torture." We then turn to them with devilish grins. Karen and Chrissy shriek and squirm more frantically than ever...
Keeping the same devilish grins, Matt and myself stand up and slowly walk towards our victims. Helpless against their bonds, the girls desperately pelt us with, "No! Don't you dare! I mean it! Please!!"
It does not even faze us.
I start at Chrissy's ribs; laughing hysterically, she jerks in her bonds as if I was electrocuting her. After a bit, I pause to let her catch her breath and I see Matt administering his captive's ticklish torture under her armpits with a big grin on his face. We tickle the girls some more and we stop, but not after a renewed threat of worse treatment if they did not free themselves. They were too winded to protest, as I remember.
A few minutes pass, and they still have not escaped. We approach them again, but this time they admit defeat by saying in the most pitiful voices, "Please don't tickle us again. We can't get out. You win."
An unspoken, unwritten rule of sorts had developed a long time ago for all involved that the game had to end or be suspended temporarily once that type of plea was made, a kind of resigned 'uncle' plea. Having got the message, we started to untie them and soon the play- friendly atmosphere returned. Soon they were giggling and even flattering us for our skill; as I said, they were good sports.
Having been completely untied, the roles became reversed; soon, they would be the indians and we the captives. (Let's hear it for women's lib!) I distinctly recall Chrissy saying to me in a sinister tinge, "Now I get to do it!" (Yikes!)
We start to begin play, when we all hear a faint voice coming from our grandmother's front door, "Kids! Lunchtime!" It was noon, and our parents were due to pick us up at one o'clock.
Laughing at this turn of events, Matt and myself skip jubilantly to the front door as Karen and Chrissy trudge their way there, wailing, "No fair!"
But there is always the next visit...
Please tell me what you think of this story!
Kevin J
USA
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Kevin J's stories
- 01 - Cowboys and Indians (mm/ff)
- 02 - Ronald Ticks Us Off (mmf/m)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section