Tina

*
When I was growing up, I had three very close friends.  My name is Tina.  My friends’ names were (and still are) Alice, Gigi and Natasha.  We were very close, did everything together and went everywhere together. Besides these three female friends, there were also two boys, George and Biff, who were in our group. As kids, we played together.  In our early grammar school years, we played tag, hide ‘n seek, and other similar games. Later, as we grew older, we played all sorts of sports: baseball, football and volleyball.  We girls also talked about boys a lot and the boys used to talk to us about girls.

As a group, we shared together our first cigarettes and first beers.  We often hiked in the woods nearby. In high school, the boys started spending more time with other boys but we still got together often.  The boys tried out for football and baseball (they were not tall enough for basketball) while we girls played volleyball and basketball. There were times when we girls put on all the football pads and with helmets on, we would sneak onto the field during scrimmages. The boys knew we were there of course, and I also think the coaches knew it too, but it was fun and we were never hurt, at least badly.

In grammar school, oh I guess about fifth or sixth grade, we often played cowboys and indians in the woods.  After seeing some movies, it was inevitable that eventually we would end up tieing up the captives.  And we did.  I know I wasn’t the first one tied.  The boys were tied just like the girls. I do remember the first time I was tied: I was afraid because the idea of losing my freedom, even to my friends, was without precedent.  And then when George tied my hands behind me and marched me along, I lost all my fear.  In fact, in a strange way, I sort of liked it.

We played several more times, over the whole spring, summer and fall before I was found out. It was Gigi who said it. “Isn’t it strange that Tina gets caught so easily?  You might almost think she enjoyed being tied up.  Do you Tina?”
The others stood around, looking at me curiously, and I knew I had to answer. My first response was a giggle, but then I said, “Whenever you have winners, there has to be losers.  I just sort of lose at this game a lot.”
Alice just shook her head, “No, Gigi, I think you might be right.  Tina, be honest, why DO you  get caught so easily?”
Mischievously, I answered, “Maybe I just don’t want to run through the brush?”
Biff guffawed, “Tina, that’s weak.  I think you do like to get tied up.”
Just then Natasha said, “Well, whatever it is, it’s time for me to get home.  Mom said if I was late for supper another time this week, I’d get spanked.”

We all looked at her with shock.  It was George who asked, “Do you still get spanked?”
Momentarily taken aback, Natasha answered, “Well, sure.  Don’t you guys?”
We all shook our heads; then I asked, “Who does it to you?”
“Well, usually it’s my mother, but dad does it when I’ve done something really awful.  He spanks my older sister Eleanor too.  I think he spanks my mother too.”
There was silence as we all took this in.  It was a mark of how close we were that neither of us thought of teasing Natasha or even laughing about it. That nite I laid in bed, thinking about what was said that day.  I finally admitted to myself that I did lose often so I could be tied up.  I wondered what that meant.

We grew away from the cowboys and indians as the weather got colder and the next two years we didn’t play at all. I think it was the summer between our eighth and ninth grades that we had decided to go for a hike.  We had packed our knapsacks and were properly dressed in flannel shirts, jeans, hiking boots and gloves.  We hiked for about two hours and had stopped to have a smoke.  Biff and George had not picked up the habit.  Alice only smoked once in a while.
We were laying there, when Gigi said, “Hey, I found something on the bus the other day.  Might interest you Tina.” She handed me a magazine.  On the cover was a girl dressed very much as I was, but in addition her wrists were tied in front of her and a stick had been inserted between her arms and her back.  This had her wrist pulled tightly against her belly.  Her ankles were roped together but with a piece of rope between the ankles about two feet long.  In her mouth was a red rubber ball with a string through it and it looked like it was tied behind her head. I just starred at it.

When I looked up, I saw Gigi pulling some rope from her knapsack.
“Want to try it?” she asked.
I shrugged, and then replied, “Why not?”  I tried to be nonchalant, but a strange sort of anticipation had come over me.  I wondered what was happening.
Gigi turned to Biff, “See if you can find a stick about three feet long.”  Then, coming to me, she said, “Hold out your wrists Tina.”  When I had done so,  she continued, “Now, let’s see, I don’t think we want to tie your wrists tightly together.  Here, let me do it this way.” So saying, she wrapped my left wrist four times, and then, leaving about three inches of slack, she did the same with my right wrist.  By this time, Biff had returned with a fairly straight, three foot stick. 
Gigi nodded her approval.

“Now, Tina,” Gigi said, “pull your wrists back against your stomach as tightly as you can.” When I had done so, she began to fit the stick inside my left arm, which was bent at the elbow, but behind my back.  She then carefully slid the stick across my back, and then she tugged and pushed the stick in front of my right arm.  When the stick was pushed all the way through, there was about three inches outside each of my arms.  Tina stepped in front of me and, after checking how close my wrists were to my stomach, she said, “Try to move your hands Tina.” I did, but found I couldn’t move them at all.  She smiled at the look of consternation on my face.

“I can’t move them Gigi,” I said unnecessarily.  She just nodded and proceeded to take the excess rope on my wrists and wrapped it several times around my wrists.With a speculative expression on her face, she asked, “Want to try the ankle rope too?” The fat was in the fire.  How was I to answer?
After a moment’s thought, I replied, “Go ahead.  I’ll give it a try.”
Very quickly, she had three wraps around my right ankle, and she knotted that.  Then, she took the other end of the rope and wrapped it around my left boot.  When it was knotted, she said, “Take a couple steps.  I don’t know how this will work.”
Gingerly, I took a couple steps.  After three, I tried a little longer step and nearly stumbled when the ankle rope snubbed my progress. Solicitously Gigi asked, “Want me to take it off?”
I shook my head.  “No, let me try it a little more.”

Carefully, I walked around the area.  I began to lift my  booted feet higher, as if I were walking normally, and found that I could walk easily, although my steps were a little shorter.  I stood in front of Gigi and said, “I think I can handle this.  Shall we hike?”
With a grin on her face, Gigi asked, “Don’t you want the rest of it?
I looked at her in puzzlement, then it dawned on me.  “Do you have a little red ball?”
She nodded, so I turned around and held my mouth open.  In a moment, the first ever gag was in my mouth.  I felt Gigi tie it behind my head.  I tried to move the ball around and finally got it comfortable.  Then I tried to say “Let’s go,” but all that came out was “Lesh o.” The others laughed, but they got the message so off we went,  just like any other group of thirteen year olds, except one was bound and gagged.

I stayed that way for two hours.  It was only when we stopped  for lunch, and after Alice and George had prepared lunch over the campfire, that Gigi removed my gag and ropes (I didn’t know enough to call it bondage yet).
Natasha asked how I felt.  I examined the red marks on my wrists and said, “I feel fine.  It was sort of, ah, interesting to hike along that way.” When we were ready to start back, Biff asked me if I wanted to be tied again.  I shook my head, saying, “No, it might not be too good idea going downhill. Don’t worry, you’ll get me again,” I promised gaily, not realizing how true it would be. That summer, I think I was tied thirty times.

One day, when the boys had gone somewhere, the four of us girls decided to get some sun.
Natasha asked, “Where’ll we go?”
It was Gigi who asked me, “Tina, will you want to be tied up?”
“Sure,” was my snappy reply.
“Well, that rules out the pool or  the meadow,” Natasha said.
“Why not my backyard?” I asked. The others shrugged and very quickly we were in my yard.

Again, it was Gigi who took the lead in tieing me.  “Lay on your belly, Tina,” she instructed. I did as she said.  Then, she stretched out my arms and legs in the form of a huge X.  She had some tent pegs and a hammer.  A peg was driven into the ground about a foot  further out from the furthest I could reach.  After we had all stripped down to our swimsuit, she 
wrapped a rope several times around my left wrist.  Then she tied the other end of that rope to the peg just beyond my left hand.  She did the same with my right wrist.  Then, with  the help of Alice and Natasha, she hauled on my legs so that I was stretched out. Then, with the others holding each of my legs, she roped my left ankle to the peg nearby and my right out the final peg.
“How’s that?” Gigi asked solicitously, “too tight?”
I tried to pull against the ropes, and found a little slack, and then I looked up at her and smiled, “No, this is okay.”

I laid like that for an hour, and then they untied me and turned me over, tieing me the same way, except face up. We did the same thing on three other occasions.  We didn’t even remove the stakes. Sometime after the third time, my mother said that she had found the four pegs when she was mowing the lawn, and wondered what they were.  Thinking fast, I told her we had been playing a game.  My mother didn’t say anything else. Nothing much exciting happened the next two years. 
Oh, I was  tied a lot.

My friends took it for granted now that Tina enjoyed being tied, and they didn’t have any objections.  We went to drive-ins with me tied.  We went to movies where I was tied to the seat.  A couple times, we went shopping at the mall with me with my hands tied behind my back, with a sweater over my shoulders.

It was the winter of my second year of high school, and I was home for a holiday.  Mother always insisted I help with the house work whenever I was home, so I ran the vacuum cleaner. I was in my parents’ bedroom and when I bent to put the plug in the outlet, I noticed a hook on the bedpost.  Curious, I thought, but I paid no attention to it.  Then, when I got to the 
other side of the bed, I noticed a hook on the other bedpost.  Definetly intrigued, I looked on the other two posts and found similar hooks. I wondered what this meant.  Of course I recalled my episodes of being tied pegged out in the backyard, but it never occurred to me to think my parents did the same thing.

It was late in the Spring, the following year.  My third year of high school would soon end. And I was again pegged out in my back yard.  I was laying on my back and Gigi had just helped me smoke a cigarette. 
She asked me, “Are you reasonably comfortable?”
I replied, “Sure.  What’s up?”
“Well, we’re going to leave you for a while. Natasha has something to show us. You’ll be safe here.”
I was somewhat dubious, but I really wasn’t too worried.  “You won’t be gone long, will you?  I mean with you guys here, I’ve got protection.  By myself, I’ve got nothing.” 
Alice laughed, and said, “What’re you afraid of?”
“Oh, every so often, the dog from across the street comes over here.”
Natasha interjected, “Come on girls.  If we don’t go now, my parents will be home and I won’t be able to show you.”
So they left me.

I really wasn’t too concerned.  After all it was my own  backyard.  So I just sort of closed my eyes to enjoy the rays. I had grown so accustomed to being tied like this that I didn’t even notice the tractioning.  I grew drowsy and I guess I must have fallen asleep. 

I awoke with a start, pulling at my bonds, momentarily confused, until I realized where I was.  I had no idea how long I had slept.  My hands were tingling, which meant I probably was tied, all total from when Gigi had tied me, about an hour and a half. No big deal: I had been pegged out for two hours once before. Idly, I began to wonder what it was Natasha had had to show the others.  I was startled out of my daydreaming by my mother’s voice.
“Tina, whatever are you doing there?”
“Oh, hi mom.  Just getting some sun.”
“But you’re tied down.  Who did this?  Here let me untie you,” she said dropping to her knees near my left wrist.
I giggled.  “Mom, Gigi tied me here.  We do it all the time. You don’t need to untie me.”

Somewhat doubtfully she leaned back on her heels.  “Let me get this straight.  You’re here because one of your best friends tied you here?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re here voluntarily?”
“Uh huh.”
“And you do it frequently?” I smiled and nodded.
My mother shook her head.  Then she smiled.  “Have you been tied this way back here before?”
“Yes, probably ten or twelve times.”
“So that’s where the pegs came from,” she laughed. “Well, if this is what you want, I won’t interfere.  Just lay back and enjoy it,” she said as she got to her feet and walked away.

I was perplexed by her choice of words: ‘just lay back and enjoy it.’  That was the classic female response to inevitable rape.  I had no time to think further for my three friends returned. With them were Biff and George.
Biff said, “Well, I see Tina’s in her usual situation. Enjoying yourself?” he asked teasingly.
“Sure am.  How about you?  Like what you see?”
That was the first time any of us had ever said anything suggestive.  Oh, we used words like cock, cunt, shit and fuck, but we never had said anything suggestive.
There was silence, then Biff grinned and answered, “Sure do.You look great.”

There was tension in the air; and then Alice said, “You should have seen what Natasha showed us, Tina.” 
Relieved the tension was broken, I asked, “What did Natasha show you?”
“Her ass,” was Alice’s answer.  “Her mother used a switch on her ass last nite and she has ten, very vivid marks on her ass cheeks.”
I turned my head to try to see Natasha’s face. There was an enigmatic smile on her face.  At that moment, I knew I was found out, that my friend Natasha knew that I really enjoyed my tie-ups; just like I knew that she secretly enjoyed her disciplining.  I doubted (which I subsequently confirmed) that any of the others knew what Natasha and I shared at that moment.

After that first time, there were a few more instances when I was tied in my backyard and left there by my friends.  Once, I was bound face inward to a tree.  It was big tree so it was just possible to bind my hands together when I wrapped my arms around the tree.  My legs were tied in back and in front so that I couldn’t move them at all.  Fortunately, I was wearing jeans and a long sleeved shirt this time so the tree bark didn’t scratch my skin.
Another time, I was tied with my back to the tree and my hands up over my head but together. And then there came the time that my arms were tied up but outward so that I looked like a “Y.”  Not only were my wrists tied but also my ankles and thighs and belly; and, for the first time, ropes were  above and below my budding boobies which highly accentuated them. 
I complained to Alice while she was roping my boobies but only half-heartedly. Secretly, I was sort of curious to see how it would feel. With my arms stretched upward and outward, it wasn’t as easy for me to slouch in my ropes as I had before when I was tied upright to something.  Also, my wrists got numb sooner. There was enough movement so that I could twist them and that, combined with flexing my fingers, kept some feeling.

The pressure on my boobies was something else.  I was somewhat disappointed but since the ropes were somewhat loose, I wondered if it wasn’t necessary for them to be tied tighter to get any significance. I wasn’t surprised to see Alice and Gigi leave (Natasha hadn’t come, having experienced the difficulties of her first period yesterday). 
I was not prepared to have my mother come visit me again.
“That’s a new way,” she said, walking towards me.  “How’s it feel?”
This casual attitude sort of threw me, but I responded, “It’s fine mom.” Then I added, “What brings you out here?”
“Oh, I sort of thought this is where I would find you. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, mom, I’m okay.  Hey, what did you mean, you thought you’d find me here?”
“Well, it really wasn’t hard.  I saw Alice and Gigi leave and, since you didn’t come in the house, I thought you might not be able to.”
I nodded.  What she said had made sense.  Then I began to wonder why she was standing there, studying me so long.  It dawned on me that she saw the ropes over my boobies.  I blushed but she acted as if she hadn’t seen my blush and she said nothing about the ropes.
“Well, I’ve got work to do.  Want me to untie you or do you want to just, er, hang around?”
We both giggled, and I answered, “No, Mom, I’m okay.  I’ll just continue to hang around, as you say it.” 

Excitement mounted among my friends as we prepared for our junior class trip. We would be gone for five days.  We bought new clothes and everything was set.  And then I got sick. The day before the trip, I couldn’t get out of bed except to crawl to the bathroom to puke. The day we were supposed to leave, I just couldn’t even get out of bed. I was devastated and so were my friends.  Gigi said the trip wouldn’t be the same unless we all went together, but I managed to gather enough strength to feebly wish them a good trip.
That nite, I began to feel a bit better and my dad said that if I felt okay the next nite, he’d pay my air fare to catch up. That made me feel much better but the next day, I was just as bad. Ruefully, my dad said it looked like I wouldn’t be able to go, and, tearfully, I agreed. 

On the third day, I felt better, but I knew it was foolish to try to catch up. The fourth day, I was really feeling sorry for myself. 
I felt good but I just moped around the house. It was a beautiful day and I sort of dreamed of standing against my tree. Mother interrupted my daydreaming. “How’re you feeling dear?” she asked.
“Oh, Mom, I feel fine, but I feel so sad.  I really miss my friends and we had planned so long for this trip.”
She nodded, “I know dear, but it couldn’t be helped.  You’ll get other chances to travel.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, somewhat impatiently, “but it won’t be the same.”
“Oh, I don’t know dear.  I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you that your father and I are going to Europe next year, and you’re going with us.”
It took a moment to sink in, then I ran to her and hugged her.  I pulled back and said, “I’m sorry for being bitchy Mom.”
She smiled.  “That’s alright dear.  I understand your disappointment.”

After a pause, she asked again, “Are you sure you feel okay?”
“Hmmm?” I asked.  “Oh, yes, I feel fine.  Why?”
“Oh, I dunno.  I was just wondering if you wanted to spend some time at your tree today?”
I was astonished.  I didn’t know what to say.  My mother was asking me if I wanted her to tie me to my tree.  She had a sneaky smile on her face, but I recovered enough to say, “Oh, Mom, would you?  Yes, I’d really like to spend some time there.  Wait’ll I get some rope.”
“I’ll get the rope Tina.  You change into your leotard and tights.”
This perplexed me.  I had never been tied in my leotard but I shrugged and started for my room when my mother added, “And nothing else.” Startled, I looked around, but she had already disappeared.  I had gone bra-less before, but I was curious.

In a few minutes, mother and daughter were walking to the tree where mother was about to tie daughter.  I was struck by the incredulity of it, but I just marched along. When we got to the tree, my mother purely astonished me.  She held out a leather strap thing. “What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s a suspension cuff.  It won’t interfere with you circulation.  Here, hold out your wrist and I’ll put it on you.”
Utterly bemused, I held out my left wrist.  Quickly, mother wrapped it around my wrist and buckled it tight.  Then she took my other wrist and did the same with another cuff. She then knelt and put cuffs on both my ankles.  She then backed me up to the tree and very quickly I was secured with my wrists up and away, but she tied them backwards to limbs behind me.  She then secured my ankles in such a way that I was on my tiptoes with my legs splayed out and back. This was a rather more strenuous position than I was used to, but I said nothing.

If I was bemused by the cuffs, I was stupefied when mom began to wind thinner rope around my left booby.  She put three loops around it; and then, holding it down with her little fingers, she began to tighten the wraps.  I starred at her face, but it was all concentration so I looked down to watch what she was doing.  My left booby began to swell outward as the string tightened at the base.  When she was satisfied, she began work on my right booby. 
The rope slipped once and she had to start all over, but finally my right booby was circled with rope and it swelled out like my left. “There, how’s that? she asked, stepping back to admire her work.

Chapter Two

This was an incredible situation.  Here I was tied to a tree in my backyard.  That wasn’t all that unusual, but it was my mother who had tied me.  Not only had she tied me, but she had used special leather cuffs.  Now I might be naive, but even I had to know she hadn’t run down to the corner store and bought them while I’d been changing into leotards and tights.  And that 
was also something: she told me what to wear.  And she had tied up my boobs.
After my mother left me in my ropes, I was just too confused to experience anything for several minutes.  And then the ropes on my boobs began to take effect.  Whenever I shifted in my ropes, the ropes on my boobs sawed my skin.  This had the effect of pulling on my boobs and very quickly I began to experience a warm feeling, a wet feeling between my legs.  I had never had that feeling before, at least not quite in this way.

I looked up at the leather cuffs on my wrists.  Clearly, these were well used.  It was no use ignoring it: my parents used these.  But who was tied?  And then I remembered the hooks on my parents’ bed.  I was about to phrase a question in my mind when my first ever orgasm over took me.  It was beyond belief.  Since then, I’ve had many orgasms in bondage, but I can truthfully say this was very powerful.  As I withered in my ropes, the waves of pleasure continued to wash over me.  Bells clanged, whistles blew, and then I blacked out. 
When I came to, I was hanging limply.

I didn’t know what had happened but I reasoned that I had crossed over to a new level of experience.  After several minutes, I got both my feet under me and shifted in my ropes.Right away, I felt the warm feeling building again between my legs, so I twisted some more. At last I made the connection: the ropes on my boobs were the trigger.  I decided to test my conclusion and, boom, another orgasm.  This wasn’t quite as intense, but it was extremely pleasurable, all the same. It took me longer to recover this time.  But when I did, I was a far wiser young woman.  I finally knew what it was about being tied up that drew me to it.

Obviously, being tied up was no longer to be viewed as a childhood game or something you did just for want of something else to do.  A question then popped into my mind: which of my friends knew or suspected?  Of all of them, I thought Natasha was probably the most likely to know. Which then got me to thinking about her little game.  She was beaten regularly.  Did she get 
her kicks from being beaten the way I did from being tied up?  Obviously, I had to pursue that question.  It was at this point that my mother returned.
“Enjoying yourself?” she said archly.
I only grinned.  “Sure am.  I learned a lot too.” My mother raised a questioning eyebrow so I continued.
“These cuffs, for instance.  They’re not new.” She nodded.  “Go on.”
“And these ropes across my breasts.  They were very, shall we say, strategically placed.”
She grinned broadly, “Oh, you had a cum.”
Perplexed, I said, “A what?”
“A cum, an orgasm.  You had a sexual completion.  How was it Tina?”
I blushed, and then when she snorted her impatience, I said, “It was, er, great.”
For a long moment, my mother just stood there and smiled at me.  Then she said, “Well, enjoy yourself.  I’ll be back in an hour.”

The next day, when my friends returned, they were all agog trying tell me all they had done. Of course I was excited for them, but there was something different. I too had had an experience, but I chose not to tell them, at least not then. Besides, mine 
would keep and they were simply being the good friends they always had been. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Natasha eyeing me speculatively. When our eyes locked, I read the question and nodded.  She smiled.

Almost a week went by before mom and I had a chance to sit and talk.
“Tina,” she began, “you learned a lot last week.  And I won’t insult you by treating you childishly. Your father and I engage in what is called love bondage.”
I interrupted, “What’s bondage?”
She blinked, and then chuckled, “That, my darling daughter, is what is done when you’re tied up. It’s called bondage.” 
“I never heard of it,” I said.  “Is it used in polite company?”
Mother laughed, “Well, yes, but most people don’t understand it.  Anyhow, your father and I take turns tieing each other, although recently, I’ve been the one tied more often than not.”
“Do you use it when you make love?” I asked.
She nodded, “Sometimes, but there are many times when I’m tied but there is no sex.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, Tina, I mentioned to your father about finding you pegged out in the backyard.  We wondered if there had been something we had done, you know, left the bedroom door open or something like that.  But then we concluded you learned by yourself.”
“So why admit your involvement?” I asked.

“Good question.  The answer is that now that you are aware, we want to pass along to you what it took us years to learn.  Of course, you must understand that it’ll be just you and me; and, while you might get a cum occasionally, it won’t be induced by me.  In other words, there will be no incest. Okay?”
I nodded, “Well, yes, I guess so, but what does it all mean?”
She smiled, “Who knows?  Who cares?  You already knew you enjoyed bondage.  What you experienced last week probably did not make you want to stop it.  So why ask questions?”
Worriedly, I hastened to say, “Mom, I’m real glad you and daddy decided to share with me. It’s just that I do like it but I want to know why I like it and the others don’t.”
“How do you know the others don’t?” she asked.
Stumped for a moment, I stammered, “Well, I guess I just sort of thought because they tie me all the time......”
“Oh, Tina,” my mother began, “being tied is only half of bondage; someone has to do the tieing. Can’t you see that someone who cares enough to tie someone who enjoys being tied is someone who might enjoy the action also?”

What she said made sense, but I pushed on, “But aren’t there people who like to tie up women and the women don’t want to be tied?”
She nodded, “Sure there are, just as there are women who are shrews, husbands and wives who cheat, and all sort of other unpleasant things.  Just because some people abuse a thing, doesn’t make the thing itself bad.”
So I asked, “Do you enjoy being tied Mother?”
She blinked, then blushed and nodded, “Very much.  I had some of the same experiences you have had, but it was your father who introduced me to love bondage.  I thrive on it.  I accept those who think it is deviant behavior but I will not give it up.”
We sat for several moments, then mom asked, “You want to be tied up?”
“Right now?” I asked, “but it’s raining.”
Mom laughed, “You don’t always have to be tied outside.  Go on up to your room and I’ll be there in a moment.”

So I went to my room.  In a jiffy, mom came in with several pieces of rope and some other things I couldn’t make out.
“Just lay on your bed, face up,” she said, and when I had done so, she sat beside me, took my right wrist and began to wrap rope around it.  After about four turns, she tied it, leaving a long tail.  She did the same to my left wrist.  Then, moving to the foot of the bed, she did the same with each of my ankles.  She then quickly secured my ankles and wrists to the four corners of my  bed. I was familiar with this tie, so I wasn’t alarmed about not being able to handle it.
“How’s that?” mother asked, stepping back and admiring her work.
“Well,” I said, “it’s just like being pegged out in the backyard, except it’s softer.”
She frowned as I said that, and then said, “You’re right. Well, I can’t stretch you on this bed as it’s too small.  Here, let’s untie you and then you can turn over.”
When she did, and I had turned over, she brought my hands behind my back and tied them together.  She then tied my feet together and pulled them up and back against my buttocks where she used another rope to tie my feet to my wrists. 
“And what do you think of that?” she asked.

This was definetly an altogether different experience.  My body was secured and it was pulling against itself.  Yet, even as I considered, I began to experience that wet feeling between my legs.
“It’s definetly different,” I managed to say with some strain.
“I’ve never been in anything like this before.”
“It’s called a hog-tie, Tina,” my mother said.  There was silence for a couple minutes as I endeavored to accustom myself to this new bondage.  “Too much?” mother asked with some concern. 
“Nooo, I can handle it,” I said.  Then I asked, “Are you tied this way?”
She chuckled, “It’s one of my favorites, although I usually am almost all nude and I almost always wear a crotch rope.” “Almost nude?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied, somewhat reluctantly, as if she had said more than she had wanted to say.
I interrupted, “I’m sorry mom.  Don’t answer.  It’s none of my business anyway.”
“No, no problem.  What I meant to say I frequently wear boots and gloves when I’m tied.”
“And nothing else?” I giggled.
Mom swatted my behind, saying, “Yes, smarty pants, nothing else.  At least nothing else that would cover.” 

This confused me, but the feeling in my crotch was building and I decided to concentrate on that.
I had a cum. It was an incredible experience.  Contrary to the first time, this time I couldn’t move at all.
All I could do was pant and say ‘ngh,’ ‘ngh,’ ‘ngh.’
After I came back to earth, mom asked, “Was it good?”  I smiled lazily and nodded, so she continued, “Now you just stay there for a while and let yourself feel some really tight bondage.”
Well, I’m here to tell you I really did feel that hog-tie.  I kept experiencing a need to straighten out my legs, but, of course, I couldn’t do so.  I didn’t have any more cums but I enjoyed my feeling of helplessness.

Mom returned eventually (an hour later, I learned) and asked if I wanted to be untied.
“No, not just yet.  I like this,” I replied.
“Oh you do, do you?  Well,” continued my mother, “I didn’t come to release you from bondage, just to change your position.”
I brightened, “Well, you have more experience than I.  I’ll put myself in your hands.”
I was untied but the ropes were not removed from my wrists or ankles; and, after a few minutes of stretching, Mom led me to her room.  She opened the double folding doors of her closet and immediately I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before: there were hooks in the upper corners and in the lower corners.

Mom put four large books on the floor in the doorway of the closet, mid-way between the edges of the doorway.  She then had me stand on the books.  She then pointed to the upper corners. I nodded and held up my arms.  She motioned for me to stand on my tiptoes and to reach for the corners.  First one wrist, and then the other, was secured tightly to the corners.  I had 
a little trouble balancing, but I managed.  Then, kneeling, she ran the ropes from my ankles through the hooks, after which she said, “Brace yourself,” and she jerked both ropes.  This pulled my legs apart, off the books and threw all my weight on my wrists. I went “Oooof.”  Mom looked up at me, but still she held the ropes.  She managed to tie one rope to the other and there I was, in my familiar “X” but hanging by my wrists.  This was a serious undertaking.
“This more interesting?” Mom asked in a teasing tone of voice.
It was hard to talk at first, but I finally managed to utter, “Yes, it is very interesting, but can it be fun too?”
Mom laughed.  “That’s my girl,” she said.  “Yes, it is a real strain at first, but when your mind can control your body and you learn to hang limply, you’ll find it can be fun too.  Take your time.  Give your body over to it.”

I was dubious, but I decided to try to take Mom’s advice.  I just let my head fall on my chest and tried to blank my mind.  It was perhaps several minutes later when I came out of my trance to realize my mother was sitting on her vanity bench, with a big grin, smoking a cigarette! The odd thing about this was that my mother didn’t smoke.  At least, I didn’t think she did, because I had never seen her with a cigarette.
I smiled, and said, “You’re right.  This can be really good. But since when did you start to smoke?”
“Oh, I do occasionally, on special occasions, like now.  And don’t tell me you don’t,” she said.
I smiled.  “Well, yes I do, but it was never my intent to hide it from you.  I just thought that since neither you nor dad smoked, that I shouldn’t around the house.”  I stayed tied that way for a half hour before my mother let me down.

Chapter Two

Mom and I came to an understanding about bondage.  She was concerned that if she bound me too often I would drift away from my friends and spend my entire day secured by ropes or chains or whatever.  Since I needed her for her experience, I felt sort of compelled to agree. Deep down, I think I understood her argument,and truly agreed. Anyhow, I did spend a lot of time with my friends.  And, from time to time, I would be tied by them.  Things were going great as the six of us entered our senior year of high school.

Inevitably, we all thought about college.  At first we were confused because it appeared the group was breaking up.  The boys had each gotten athletic scholarships to the state university.  For financial reasons, Alice was going to stay at home and start at junior college.  Gigi had earned a scholarship to a private school.  Strangely, although we had never talked about it, Natasha and I announced we would be going out of state to the same school. When I mentioned all these things to my Mom, she said that maybe Natasha and I ought to room together.  In that way, she said, “we’d each have a close friend.”  The significance of that statement passed me by for a few minutes, but then I caught on.  “Mom,” I began, “fun is fun, but college is for education.”
Mom laughed, and replied, “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”  And then, after a bit, she added, “I’ll have to call Dorothy (Natasha’s mother) and set a lunch date.”

I didn’t think anything about it for several days.  Then one day, when I got home from school, my mother came into my room with a box.  She laid it on my bed, as I was changing into levis and wellington boots, and took from it a white, canvas thing. Recognition was a little slow but eventually I decided it was a straight jacket.
“For me?” I asked.
Mom nodded, holding it up so that the sleeves hung down.  I accepted the invitation and unhesitatingly thrust my hands and arms into the extra long sleeves which were closed at the end.  She pulled it up over my shoulders and then stepped behind me where she began to draw the straps closed.  Very quickly, I was fully encased.  Mom then told me to cross my arms in front.  When I had done so, she took the strap hanging down from the left and pulled it behind my back and into the clasp on the end of the right sleeve.  I was now fully covered and secured.  But Mom wasn’t done: the tongue hanging down in front had a strap at the end.  She took it and pulled it up between my legs and secured it to the jacket in the back.

I shifted my body from side to side and twisted my arms. Smilingly, I said to mother, “Well, I’m in and I can’t get out. Now what?” I thought she might secure me to a chair to watch TV or some such.  Her answer astounded me: “We’re going visiting.”
“In broad daylight?” I asked incredulously. When she nodded, I added, “Like this?”
She chuckled, “Why not?  You’re fully covered.   C’mon.  We’re going to Natasha’s house. Her mother, Dorothy, and I were talking about you two going to school and we have some ideas to suggest to you.”  Dubiously, I followed her out of the house and into our car.
Naturally, mom held the door for me and, after securing my seat belt, she closed my door. In a moment, she had herself belted, the door closed and we moved off.  Natasha’s house was only a couple blocks and usually we walked but I was thankful we drove this time—though as we rode along, I noticed not one person on the sidewalk between my house and 
Natasha’s.

When we arrived, I was in a quandary.  While Natasha had seen me bound, I had no idea how her mother might react.  Also, appearing in a public area, in broad daylight, bound; well, that bothered me.  Mother noticed how agitated I was, how much I was struggling in the straight jacket; and she merely smiled and then said, “Relax.  You’ll be amongst friends.”
That told me a lot.  Still, I struggled, walked sideways, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was looking (no one was).

When we entered the house, Dorothy (Natasha’s mother) greeted my mom with a kiss on the lips and then said, “Tina, what a lovely jacket.  I’ll bet you’re comfy.  But it took courage to come out in that in broad daylight.  Come in, both of you, and sit down. Natasha is waiting.”
Boy, Natasha surely was waiting.  She was naked, kneeling on the floor in front of the coffee table, bent over at the waist, with her wrists tied to the far end.  Her ass was very prominent.
She looked up at me with a big smile, and said, “Hi Tina.  Hello Mrs. Crimp (in case you missed it, my name is Tina Crimp and my mother naturally is Mrs. Crimp—first name Helen).”

Bemused, I merely continued to walk into the room.  Dorothy spoke, “Helen, why don’t you sit here at the end of the couch, and Tina, you can sit on this stool which might be a bit more comfortable.  Besides, that way you each get a good view of Natasha’s ass.”
Why would I want to get a good view of Natasha’s ass, I wondered, as I settled on the stool. Natasha was no longer looking my way so I had no way of seeking an answer in her face. My mother and Dorothy were lighting cigarettes, so they were no help.  And then I saw the paddle and other things on the floor, and Iunderstood: Natasha was going to be paddled!
Wow!  Of course I knew it happened to her, but I’d never seen it done.  The one time the others had seen her behind after a paddling, I’d been tied down in my backyard.  I suddenly found myself intensely interested.  I was going to see one of my best friends paddled.  It wasn’t that I wanted her to have pain; I guess I realized she had her likes just as I had mine.

I was jolted out of my mussings by my mother’s voice, “My goodness, Tina, you were certainly lost in thought.” 
Smiling, I replied, “Yeah, I guess so.  I think I’m going to like what I’m about to see.”
At this, Natasha raised her head and looked back at me, “Oh you do, do you?  Well, I’m prepared to admit I like this.  How do you like what you’re wearing?”
“Me?” I answered innocently, “why Natasha, you know I like to be bound.  And you, you like to have your ass paddled?” “Ummmm,” she replied, “and then some.”
Laughing, Dorothy interjected, “Before you two get too excited, maybe I ought to do Natasha.”  So saying, she stooped to pick up the ping pong paddle.  Gripping it firmly, she bent at the waist and applied a quick stroke to each cheek of Natasha’s ass. The force of the blows was greater than I would have imagined for starters  -- I thought one would work one’s way up to it (I’ve since learned differently).  Red splotches appeared on each cheek.
“How’re those for starters?” Dorothy asked her daughter.
Without raising her head, Natasha answered, “Just right Mother. Please continue.”

And so Dorothy began a rhythmic application of the paddle to her daughter’s ass.  At the end of twenty swats, each cheek had had an equal number but they weren’t alternated.  Then Dorothy bent again, dropped the paddle and picked up a short, flexible whip. She resumed her previous position and began to swing the whip.  The initial strokes caught Natasha on the ass, but soon Dorothy was hitting her on the thighs and back.  I was mesmerized.  I’d never dreamed it would be like this.  Oh, I’d read about whippings, but to actually see the scalding of a friend’s ass and back, well, that was really something.  I enjoyed listening to Natasha grunt and ugh as her body absorbed the force and the pain of each stroke.  I imagined she probably felt 
the same way when she saw me tied (I learned later that she did) because we each could relate the other’s predicament to sexual excitement (god, was I excited—my cunt was like a fountain and I knew my levis would show a wet mark but I wasn’t worried about that).  On impulse, I looked over at my mother.  She was smoking and alternately staring intently at Natasha’s ass and Dorothy’s  face.
This jolted me—my mother was hot for Dorothy.  And then I caught my mother fingering her own crotch.  Wow!

Finally, dropping the whip, Dorothy said, “We’ll let her rest a bit if that’s okay with you Tina.”
Brightly, I said, “Don’t matter to me.  Whatever Natasha wants is fine with me.”
Natasha raised a smiling face to me and said, “Now you know my secret too.  Yeah, I’d like a rest, but I want more.”
Later, Dorothy gave Natasha ten strokes with a nice, whippy cane.  Each stroke brought a squeal or an awrrgh from Natasha, but she never asked her mother to stop.

When the whipping (I learned that Natasha preferred to call her episodes ‘whippings’ rather than ‘paddlings’) was finished and Natasha released, my mother asked if I wanted out of my straight jacket.  Actually, I had forgotten I had it on, and was inclined to decline, but then Natasha said we would be having pizza for supper so I agreed.
While we waited for the pizza to be delivered, the four of us smoked and talked about Natasha’s and my college plans. 

Our senior year in high school passed quickly.  We six worried we would drift apart, so we arranged to spend more time together.  Naturally, I spent a lot of time tied. The six of us went to our Senior Prom together.  Biff and George took a lot of ribbing, but they countered that they were men enough for the four of us girls.  While Alice and Gigi were dressed as any of the other girls at the prom, Natasha and I were different.  She was well and truly whipped under her gown.  Her mother had been careful to avoid marking her where her dress wouldn’t cover.

I was wearing a very strict corset, which caused me some unanticipated problems: I was hungry because I hadn’t been able to each much and I was thirsty for the same reason.  The discomfort was, naturally, a turn-on.  Mother had had a lot of fun lacing me into the garment, and she had done so with gusto.  Even if I had been inclined to cheat and not lace it closed, mother wouldn’t have let me get away with it.  I had held it to my belly while mother tightened the laces.
When it wouldn’t move at all, it felt quite comfortable and I thought we might be done.  Then mother had told me to grasp the top of the door frame and hold on; and then she began to seriously tighten the lacings.  By holding my arms over my head, I made my chest slimmer, which made it easier for mom to make the corset tighter.  Once, I had to tell her I was feeling faint.  She stopped her tightening and supported me for a few moments.  She even had smelling salts, which instantly cleared the fuzziness.  At another point, I complained that I didn’t think I could handle any more constriction, but she just continued to pull and tug. She was actually panting, she was working so hard.

And finally, she stopped.  I felt like I was rigid from my hips to my neck.  My boobies were swelled up over the top of the corset, and I was quite proud of them.  And then, on a whim, mother measured my waist: it was six inches less than normal, and that was over the top of the corset, so I was probably at least seven inches smaller.  When I looked at myself in the 
mirror, I was amazed: I truly did look like an hour glass.  Since my gown was a clinging fabric, my body drew lots of attention that nite.  Also, since the dress was floor length, I was able to wear my knee high, high heeled boots.

The prom was a huge success.  The six of us drew lots of attention.  Naturally, my body was an attraction, but the other girls were dressed spectacularly so none of us stood out any more than any other.
Traditionally, proms began at school, where a meal was served and then on a country club for the dance.  After that, everybody adjourned to a mountain resort where everybody changed for a hike to scenic view to see the sunrise.  We stayed with the class until we got to the resort, and then we went to our own cabin, the six of us; and when we left, none of us were virgins.  We missed the sunrise, but we were pleased that even if in the future we saw less of one another, we had shared a
rite of passage together.  I’m not ready to tell about that nite yet; maybe at a later time.

That Fall, Natasha and I went off to school.  We decided we wanted to start out in the dorm, so we had a two room suite.  The first couple weeks, we were caught up in learning our new life and did nothing that any of the others weren’t doing.  We hit the beer hall a few times, and made lots of friends.  And then we got into going to classes, and all at once, discovered we had lots of homework.  Resolving to quit playing and to begin work, we stayed in our rooms and studied for three straight nites.

Finally, about ten on the third nite, Natasha threw down her pencil and said, “Shit.”
Looking up, I replied, “What did you say?”
“I said ‘shit’,” she repeated.  “I need a break.  This is just too intense.”
Taking a chance, I replied, “What you mean is that you need your ass paddled.”
She said nothing for a moment, then, after lighting a cigarette, she said, “You ready to do me?”
I nodded, so Natasha stood and walked to her dresser.  She opened the second drawer and, after moving some clothes, she pulled out the paddle and the whip her mother had used that day nearly a year ago as I sat watching in my straight jacket.  She threw them on the bed and then, after locking the door, she stripped and knelt at the side of her bed with her upper body 
laying across it.  This had taken no time at all.  The rapidity with which Natasha moved startled me, but I knew I was going to do it.  On a whim, I too stripped.  Then, stepping to where she was lying, I picked up the paddle.  I hefted it and moved it around.  Then, without warning her, I hit the left cheek of her ass as hard as I could.  The ‘crack’ sound was like a cannon shot and, almost involuntarily, I said, “god.”

Natasha giggled, and looked up at me.  She was surprised to see my bare tits and her eyes  bulged, but then she said, 
“Like your dress.”
“Now what?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” I replied, “we can’t make that much noise.”
“Oh,” Natasha said, “well, just use the whip then.”
So I did.  I hit her at least thirty times with that whip.
And when I was done, her back and ass and thighs were criss-crossed with the thin red lines.
I didn’t know if I should go on, but Natasha got up, signalling the end, and then she embraced me and kissed me on the mouth.  I ate her pussy that nite.

 

story continues in Tina

o0o