Thursday, December 7, 2023
I was just minding my own business, unaware of what was awaiting me. Even a day after you've taken your sister-in-law for a fun ride, your guard is down ever so slightly even though you're on hyper alert. Then the work day gets into full swing, you forget about the possibility of revenge, and next thing you know you're bound and gagged. Here in the Cool Girls' Club, we have rules that happen to match the philosophy used by my husband's family in playing games, but there is a distinct flavor to a Rondell TUG that differs from anyone else's games. You'll see.
Since it was a December day, my clothing was more appropriate for cold weather. My beloved black jeans, blue and white canvas sneakers, and blue crew socks were nice and cozy and useful in a woodshop. Black jeans bring so much joy to my life despite being black because they make me feel strong, utilitarian, and serious. Wearing black jeans can be useful when I'm in a somber mood as a result of my borderline personality disorder (BPD) or when I'm feeling happy and full of energy. Blue jeans are nicer with certain colors; black jeans are outright awesome.
My flannel blue-and-black plaid long-sleeve button-up shirt was a favorite of mine, and the split color blue-and-white bandana I wore on my head as a kerchief for no reason except my personal happiness felt like a highlight of my multi-tribal heritage. There is so much to be said about my outfit and me, but sometimes it seems like you're bored by my descriptions of people. Like, my jet black hair was in a braid that reached my butt and held by blue and white scrunchies. There's no describing how much fun it is having Seminole, Miccosukee, and Creek blood that I can trace with certainty by going no further than my great-grandparents to find recognized members of the tribes. This is on top of having Irish, Black, and Spanish blood, too. It gives me warm fuzzies.
"Hands in the air!" Eva surprised me with a disengaged fake rifle when I entered the office.
My instinct to play along saw me immediately comply, "Don't shoot!"
"Ah! There you are! Take off the shirt, or I'll blast you!" she ordered me to comply.
"Yes, ma'am," I began unbuttoning my shirt as she desired, took it off, and draped it on my chair.
"Face the wall; hands behind your back. It's going to be a f-cking awesome journey."
I saw a swish of blue and felt something unusual tying my wrists. "What the heck is this?"
"After the fun we had with that French girl, I bought us some blue parachute cord!"
"Wow, Eva!" now it was my turn to flip on her, "I'm surprised you didn't knit some up instead!"
"Which one of us has been reduced to a common squaw?" she teasingly asked me.
"Only you can say that and use it as a term of endearment," I responded in a playful tone.
"Oh, you'd better believe it," Eva cinched that bond and moved up to my elbows next.
That blue paracord was like a magical snake winding in and around my body for elbow bondage, a restrictive harness with a cinching through the armpits, an unnecessary but scrumptious binding of my forearms, and a waist rope that sure had to be temporary because crotch ropes were like an essential ingredient for life in this woodshop. Indeed, a jerks on my bond and an examination of the waist showed it to be way too long. Into my mouth went the blue ball gag known here as Ol' Blue because it was the first ball gag Ken bought, a simple 2 inch model with the standard black leather strap. This time, Eva was hoping to turn me into a slobbering mess.
Honestly, I could hold 2.5 inch gags as well as most girls held 2 inch or 1.75 inch gags, and with my big mouth I could even handle a 3 inch for long periods—the blessings of being a giant 6' 1" retired softball star! Being Eva and wanting revenge for what I'd done to her the day before, the ball gag strap was tightened more than was essential for this scene. My response was to giggle.
What surprised me at first was how Eva tied my legs. Three ropes on my lower legs at the knees, shins, and ankles was fairly normal given my size. Only tying my thighs above the knees was an unusual twist, but then I realized it was time for one of Eva's favorite games as both captive and captor—sacrificing the captive to the sexual desires of the significant other.
"Mmmm hmmm, what a rack," Eva fondled my breasts, "Kenny, your MILF is ready!"
"HUH?!" I yelled into the blue ball gag, "Wha hih hou huth hall ee?!"
"Excuse me?!" Ken walked into the office, "What did you just call my wife?"
"A MILF. After all, she is the mother to your children, and you do like—"
"Wait a second," my husband played the word games so well, "MILF means… continue…"
"Mother I Like to F-ck!" Eva blurted out the acronym's meaning with a satisfied grin.
"No. She's a mother, and I—me—I—like to, as you said, f-ck her. Not you."
My sister-in-law rolled her eyes at her brother, "OK, OK, this is a technicality. That's—"
"So, when it's me talking about Janie, she's a Mother I Like to F-ck. M. I. L. F. MILF. And…"
"When I say it, she's Janie, a Mother You Like to F-ck. M. Y. L. F," Eva walked into it.
"GMMMMMMMM!" I howled into the ball gag and was completely ignored by both of them.
"Which is said…," Ken led his sister right into his naughty and profane trap.
"MYLF. Said the exact same! Kenny! You jack-ss! You motherf-cking sneak! You tricked—"
"Get out of here!" he shoved Eva out of the office, shut the door, and locked it, "Ah, my MILF!"
When Ken did that, I played along by taking some nervous hops backward. Next thing I knew, I was passionately lubricating Ken while my back was on the floor and my legs were in the air. In a few minutes, my waist rope had been converted into a waist rope with a double crotch rope that included one pass under my jeans but over my black briefs and one over my black jeans. In a big show of that masculine dominance that always made me melt, Ken checked each one of the blue parachute cords that bound me and tightened them as he felt was necessary and further bound my legs together at the middle and upper thighs since vaginal access was no longer needed. Finally, he used a piece of the paracord to put me in a classic ankles to elbows hogtie on Eva's spacious desk and put a medicine cup on the desk about a foot in front of me.
"You have to fill that cup with your own slobber, Janie. Fill it, and then we'll talk," Ken said to me and then walked out of the office to explain things to Eva, "Good luck, Janie!"
"GMMMMMMMM!" I groaned into the ball gag and began slowly scrunching towards the cup.
Now, my first time ever being bound with parachute cord had occurred only a month before this incident, and I was in love with how the thin, unforgiving material dug into my body. The dents would certainly be around for a long time, and the redness would be a pleasure for hours or even days. A few more jerks on the crotch rope, and I was groaning in orgasm instead of squirming towards the medicine cup. That wasn't Ken's intention, but it's what I did with my opportunity!
With a deep breath, I scrunched over to the cup, which was just one part of the process. Now, it was necessary to drool into the cup and not just drool! That was much easier said than done for real. Eva sat at her desk with her arms crossed—watching me with curiosity, love, semi-magical desire to be in my position, satisfaction at her successful conquest, and friendship.
"Gmmmmm!" I turned to Eva for approval when I got the angle of my head and neck just right.
"Good job!" she looked at the small medicine cup, "Kenny, the MYLF filled up the cup!"
"Is that with a 'Y' or an 'I' now?" Ken called back and soon appeared at the door, "Good job!"
"MMMMMMM!" I happily responded and struggled in my hogtie, and Ken unbuckled the gag.
"Dump that out, Eva. So, Janie, how about doing it with the new and improved 'Big Yellow'?"
"Wow, baby, you're challenging me," I smiled and let him wipe the drool of my lips with a green bandana, "All right, but pull those straps tight so that my face gets super deep dents!"
"As you wish, Gangsta Jock!" my husband expressed his love with my favorite movie quote.
"Gmmm hmmm!" my heart leapt a little while the 2.5 inch silicone filled my mouth.
Eva stepped in and took over the tightening of the straps. "Just remember, you asked for this."
Never trust Eva Rondell when she's wearing her desert camouflage bandana.
The straps were all tightened to excess, and that was the first time I realized the reality I was the mother of two children and that I couldn't be dented and red skinned (I mean red from being tied up, not from being Native American, before you have such deplorable thoughts!) around them if I was going to be a good mother. They were still young enough they wouldn't notice, but when I was dealing with kindergarteners and such it would become a big issue. Adding to the fun, Eva secured a vibrator—the variable one that was adjustable using an app—to my thigh with the bulb jammed as firmly against my crotch as my jeans and double crotch rope allowed her to jam it.
A bigger ball means more drooling. More drooling means filling the medicine cup faster, right? However, after a tablespoon of drooling, the vibrator struck with a vengeance, eliciting a massive orgasm out of me. In my writhing from said orgasm, I accidentally knocked the cup on the floor right by Eva's feet. With a series of deep breaths, I looked at her, batted my eyes, and earned her sympathies. She put the medicine cup back where it belonged, patted my head sweetly, and gave me a jerk on my braid to remind that she was the most ruthless captor of her siblings. I howled a rare oath into my gag and instead orgasmed—again, unusually soon for me—at the excitement of being both totally helpless and completely humiliated in such numerous ways.
There cannot be enough good things said about this situation between the parachute cord and the humiliation of having to drool into a medicine cup to please my captors. Eva was the paragon of a benevolent dictator, with one never knowing when she'd be sweet and helpful versus brutal and harmful. Picking up the medicine cup was sweet and helpful; leaving it on the floor and leaving me to wail in distress because it was inaccessible would also have been par for the course.
"Kenny! Your hogtied, slobbering MYLF—with a 'Y' before you say a word, you little sh-t—is ready!" Eva called him, "I think she wants a drink from the Fountain of F-cking Youth, too."
"HUH?!" I sometimes could not—still cannot—believe Eva's blatant lewdness and vulgarity.
"OK, Janie, you haven't earned that," Ken coughed a little, "Drink just yet. First, one final ball gag." Ken showed me a 3 inch orange rubber dog ball gag with a blue bandana threaded through the holes and undid Big Yellow's straps, "Open up nice and wide for your final challenge."
"All right," I smiled and added, "Here we go with the really big boy now! AHHH! GMMMM!"
"That's my wife," my husband tenderly fondled my boobs after tightly knotting the bandana.
It's understood, right? A bigger gag leads to more drooling; we already discussed this. My teeth sank into that big ball, and I felt a warmth inside my body just from the sheer size. I was merely Ken's hogtied, slobbering MILF, to use the token expression of the day. I was a Gangsta Jock in distress, a captured native princess. Seriously, I had princess-length hair, right? My braid hung over my shoulder and towards the floor while I struggled in the parachute cord hogtie.
Dutifully drooling into a medicine cup is more exciting than it seems, especially when you're in the hands of people you trust and basically adding a fun game on top of an athletic challenge. In a few minutes of drooling, I had the medicine cup filled, and I turned to Eva and gag talked a lot in order to get her attention. Unfortunately for me, brutal and harmful Eva had arrived.
"Kenny! The M.Y.L.F. is ready for that drink from the Fountain of F-cking Youth!"
That drink was such a yummy and kinky way to end one crazy adventure.
And, fortunately for me, it wasn't my only time being dubbed a "Hogtied, Slobbering MILF."
There are so many stories I could tell you related to adventures at work. If you're familiar with the Bondagettes of Pod F, well, they used my and Ken's workshop to create many of the things you see in their films, like the Pole-Boards and the Human Solar Cooker. Adventures aren't only limited to the woodshop either. If any of the stories below are of interest to you, let me know so I can prioritize them!
- Janie: Hogtied, Slobbering MILF Again — As the name suggests, I'm again kidnapped by my husband and sisters-in-law, only this time my sisters-in-law bring a cruel twist that ensures I will not win the game. Read on to learn how I get jumped, teased, and defeated by my loved ones.
- Janie and Lauren: Rabbits on the Run — Nothing like a game in the forest with my sister and I trying to escape before we're captured by my sister-in-law and become her torture toys.
- Eva and Lauren: Well-Stuffed Burritos — When my sister visits, trouble is sure to occur, and I am the one causing the trouble by turning my sister and sister-in-law into a pair of sexy burritos!
- Caleigh: Foiled, Slobbering Escapist — My sister-in-law, an escapist of Cool Girls' Club lore, is turned into a defeated, slobbering mess by one of my high school besties!
- Eva and Brooke: Pole-Board Test Dummies — The Bondagettes of Pod F arrive at the shop to build a new device for use in their films, and the finished creations need test dummies. Well, the studio owner, her assistants, and I turn my sister-in-law and another assistant into test dummies!
- Amanda, Ashley, and Joyce: Forest Rabbits — I play one of my in-laws favorite TUG games with three of my best friends, including my high school and college besties.
- Lauren: Return of Big Mouth Laundromat — Lauren won't stop yammering about escapades in the bedroom, so I turn her into a human laundromat and an orgasming, helpless mess.
- Janie, Lauren, and Caleigh: Sweaty, Stinky Softball Stars — In this college adventure, my two teammates, who happen to be people near and dear to me, and I get kidnapped by my roommates after we come back from a softball doubleheader on a hot spring afternoon.
- Eva and Janie: Signed, Sealed, and Delivered — Ken decides to have fun with the large crate that we kept as a TUG toy, kidnapping Eva and I, brutally binding and gagging us, sealing us in the crate, and delivering us to Eva and Caleigh's front door like any other piece of freight!
- Eva: Twisted, Slobbering Secretary — I get my revenge on Eva, tying her tightly in a crossed prayer frogtie and forcing her to slobber her way to freedom… if I wish to give it to her.
