How I began (mm/f)
Posted: Wed Apr 04, 2018 9:33 pm
I have two older bothers, they were sixteen and fifteen to my twelve at the time. Both football mad, I forget which teams were favourites, mostly because I'm not a follower, and I used to tease them by getting names, both team and player, or colours, wrong on purpose, and doing that for long enough messes with your memory of the correct answer. They never played in a team but they watched on television every weekend when they could. Our parents worked weekends though, so we were all shipped to an aunts, or my parents close friends three doors down, to be watched and fed. Turning sixteen meant we could all finally be trusted to stay home without parental supervision at weekends. Both good and bad for my brothers. Good, they'd never miss football again. Bad, little sister is home too. I though, had a plan.
My interest and general fascination in being tied up was growing, fuelled by images I'd mostly seen or stumbled across, from the internet, if I felt brave enough to attempt certain searches without getting caught, and occasionally from one of my brothers comic collections. So I took a chance and went to my brothers with what I felt was a mutually beneficial arrangement. What I wanted, I told them, was to be tied up, and gagged, in my room, then to be left there for the two plus hours that football was on. This way I'd be out of their way. Win win I think I called it. They were sceptical, I think possibly worried about getting into trouble for tying up their sister, maybe they thought it was an elaborate plan of mine to tell on them afterwards. But they went along with it, and agreed after some thought. Approaching that first weekend the butterflies of anticipation building in me were almost unbearable at times.
That first time I had them keep it simple. I wore a simple vest top with no bra and drawstring trousers, nothing too tight or heavy, I was trying to prevent myself getting too hot. Under my guidance they used scarves to bind my wrists behind me and my ankles together, with a third serving as the cleave gag. They dutifully knotted everything as tight as they were able, I couldnt see this but could feel the yanks, which made me tingle each time, then left me be. The following two hours was everything I could've hoped for. I rolled and struggled, making quite a mess of my duvet, trying very hard to escape. I was hoping for realism, or as close to it as I could get with the knowledge that they were returning for me later. After an hour, in which I'd had maybe five good attempts at freedom but zero luck, I relaxed, and spent the second hour simply enjoying the sensation of helplessness.
After the match had finished they reappeared, looking slightly sheepish, still unsure of whether they were in trouble I guess. Still not too sure about little sisters latest crazy game idea they'd been dragged into. They untied me without fuss, with some laughter about the general state of my bed. I gave them both a hug and said thank you, doing my best with that to reassure them. Plunging in, before I lost my nerve, I asked if they'd be willing to make this a regular thing every weekend, whenever football was on anyway. To which they said sure. At which point I'm fairly certain I just grinned at them
My interest and general fascination in being tied up was growing, fuelled by images I'd mostly seen or stumbled across, from the internet, if I felt brave enough to attempt certain searches without getting caught, and occasionally from one of my brothers comic collections. So I took a chance and went to my brothers with what I felt was a mutually beneficial arrangement. What I wanted, I told them, was to be tied up, and gagged, in my room, then to be left there for the two plus hours that football was on. This way I'd be out of their way. Win win I think I called it. They were sceptical, I think possibly worried about getting into trouble for tying up their sister, maybe they thought it was an elaborate plan of mine to tell on them afterwards. But they went along with it, and agreed after some thought. Approaching that first weekend the butterflies of anticipation building in me were almost unbearable at times.
That first time I had them keep it simple. I wore a simple vest top with no bra and drawstring trousers, nothing too tight or heavy, I was trying to prevent myself getting too hot. Under my guidance they used scarves to bind my wrists behind me and my ankles together, with a third serving as the cleave gag. They dutifully knotted everything as tight as they were able, I couldnt see this but could feel the yanks, which made me tingle each time, then left me be. The following two hours was everything I could've hoped for. I rolled and struggled, making quite a mess of my duvet, trying very hard to escape. I was hoping for realism, or as close to it as I could get with the knowledge that they were returning for me later. After an hour, in which I'd had maybe five good attempts at freedom but zero luck, I relaxed, and spent the second hour simply enjoying the sensation of helplessness.
After the match had finished they reappeared, looking slightly sheepish, still unsure of whether they were in trouble I guess. Still not too sure about little sisters latest crazy game idea they'd been dragged into. They untied me without fuss, with some laughter about the general state of my bed. I gave them both a hug and said thank you, doing my best with that to reassure them. Plunging in, before I lost my nerve, I asked if they'd be willing to make this a regular thing every weekend, whenever football was on anyway. To which they said sure. At which point I'm fairly certain I just grinned at them
