Eva, the Pack Animal (F/F)

[AlexUSA3]

@Caesar73, @hafnermg, @harveygasson, @Lucky Lottie, @tiedinbluetights, @TamatoaShiny123, @Canuck100, @GermanTUGFriend, @Dreamerforever2004, @Mineira1986, @TklToy, @Windrunner, @Alisonlovesropes, @Gaggedcowgirl, @beeblebrox883, @lanadelgagged, @DommeKirsten, @LunaDog, @GreyLord, @charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Kinky_boi, @johopp, @Bilmik, @Shotrow, @TapeTurtle, @Bandit666, @algebrauk, @milagros317 @superduperwaveydavey

Eva, the Pack Animal (F/F)
Thursday, June 29, 2023

“I love these babies so much,” I smile to myself and stuff one of them back into my bag.

I look in the mirror and see myself, and I feel the confidence drain out of me. Why does it have to be this way? Why do I see myself in a mirror and feel dirty and disgusting? I know why, but I do not want to think about those things. I want to instead feel good and happy, what better way to feel good and happy than to engage the services of my dear sister-in-law, Eva, on a hot sunny day?

“Mommy!” little Joey comes up to me, “Is Aunt Caleigh staying with me?”
“Yes, she is, so Daddy, Aunt Eva, and I can go to work, and you can have Auntie all to yourself, OK?”
“Yay!” he jumps into my arms.

Is there anything more I could ask for? Normally, I bring my son to work, but this time is a bit different for everyone. Things aren't so good here, and today is Eva’s first day at this job. We’ve had a bit of a minor tragedy in Eva’s life recently, and it's not such a good situation really. Eva is a good person, and life hasn't been good in return.

I want to show some love to my sister-in-law. She was the first friend I had who was my age; in the years since we met, we’ve gone from cautious optimism to giving each other the same love we give our own sisters. She is family, but I see her more as a friend. This is about a girl who is a good-natured person who hides underneath a rough exterior.

She is the only girl I know who makes all her own clothes. She does it; she does it well; and she is quite proud of it too. She has done well given the circumstances, and she knows that life is far from fair. I know it too! This is about Eva, so let's leave me aside and focus on her.

Eva had a dream of being a military nurse, wearing camos, helping soldiers injured in a desert or even just suffering from pneumonia on a stateside base. That dream grew in her mind for years. After she graduated high school, she applied for the army and was rejected due to her deafness, a deafness they said was worse than she thought. Further evaluation revealed that her hearing was progressively worsening, and that she would, with time, likely within 15 years, be 100% deaf.

It wasn't bad enough that this came following the end of her earlier dream of getting a collegiate volleyball scholarship. That dream died with a knee injury that left her unable to play the game at a truly competitive level any longer. She lost volleyball and the military.

A born winner, Eva went to college anyway and studied to become a paramedic. Along the way, she started a relationship with a guy from her church, and all seemed well. Then it all burned up around her. Three weeks ago, her boyfriend dumped her after 5 years, citing her deafness as the reason why. Two weeks ago, she was fired from her paramedic job on the claim that her hearing was a dangerous liability. I offered her a job with me and Ken, her older brother, and today’s her first day of working for us.

I’m just a big girl with an athletic prowess of her own. I dress for the line of work, really. I’m in black jeans, a bright pink t-shirt, and a black kerchief bandana. My hair’s in a long braid that is well out of the way. Simple black canvas sneakers are my favorite. I have a bag slung across my body as I walk up the driveway a little further to the carriage house where Eva and Caleigh live.

I don't even knock. I just walk into the house. Eva’s on the sofa and waves to me, and we have a complete conversation without saying anything. Our hands do all the talking. Sign language is the only reliable method of communication with her. It took a long time, but I learned it well!

She is wearing one of her homemade jumpers, the only one she wore so many times that she had to make a replacement, a milk chocolate brown one with tiny white flowers. Under the jumper is a tan t-shirt with minimal cleavage. Steel-toed boots and beige knee socks protect her toes from the dangers of the workplace. Her dirty blonde hair is in an artistic braid originating high on her head, and a sage green bandana headband helps it stay further away from her eyes.

A 5’8” volleyball player with a military drill sergeant attitude versus a 6’1” softball star who set all new conference slugging records, who will win? She goes to get her lunchbox for work, and I arm myself with a wide black ziptie. I’m horrible, I know. Don't make me feel bad for doing a thing I know makes Eva happy. Please? I am making her happy, right? Maybe I’m not so good of a sister-in-law… No! Stupid cognitive dissonance. No! She sees my internal warfare and is saddened by it.

“You twisted little freak! Get off me!” she says angrily but is smiling broadly, “Gangsta Jock!”
“I’m getting you ready for work!” I giddily respond.

We're having a full-blown wrestling match here on the kitchen linoleum. We're laughing as we tussle as we so frequently do. On any given day, you can flip a coin and have just as good odds of correctly guessing who will win. It wouldn't be Eva, the Pack Animal if Eva won this match, now would it? Zipping her ankles and wrists is just one part of things.

“Get the hell off, you sick mother-butt sex-er,” she has a dirty tongue that I’m censoring.
“I have a nice 2.5 inch rubber ball gag here.”
“Dirty rotten illegitimate child,” she enjoys her profanity before I gag her.
“That will keep you quiet,” I knot the brown bandana that's part of the gag.
“Mmm mmmmmm!” she continues cursing.
“Ev, shut up,” I give her a hard spank to remind her she's the one that's been kidnapped.

Remember that little baby I love so much? ait wasn't a rude reference to my child. I was talking about cinch straps, possibly my favorite TUG toy. Those babies are so much fun, but they do the best job when they have fabric to grab ahold of. I didn't care because Eva and I had so much fun using them on each other.

Man, did I have fun with it. Eva likes getting tightly bound, and I tightly cinched her up even if I knew I really ought to use zips or rope. These buggers are just too much fun and will work for long enough to get Eva to the workshop. I use 3 on her arms and make sure the velcro is stuck down really well. I have these 8 foot ones that are perfect, and I put 1 each on either side of her big firm boobs and another around her waist. Then I run them down her legs where they really are quite useless without any fabric to grab.

I do have one workaround though. Narrow straps are best for lining along limbs while wide ones are best for joints like the elbows where the strap can't slip. Narrower straps will dig themselves into the skin a lot more, just like narrower zips, and safety is in numbers. Using this approach is a good way to buy myself some more time.

“Get a move on!” I push Eva like a cop pushing an inmate.
“Guh huh hut mmm mmmmm!” she whines, but she moves along finely enough.
“Oh, just scrunch down those stairs, and it'll be all right soon enough.”
“Gpff mmm nnnn,” Eva sits down with my help and obeys. I like watching her drool.
“That's it. One at a time,” then, at the bottom, a swat, ”Hop!”
“Gmm ttttt hllllll!”

I open the door of my trusty little Ford Fusion and lay her across the backseat. Ken is waiting in the passenger's seat, and I get in the driver's seat. The workshop is just 7 minutes away, and it's a good day when the trip is made with someone bound and gagged in the backseat. I have made at least 2 dozen trips to the workshop while bound and gagged in some form.

It's with a smile on my face that I drive the car the short distance. I take great care not to hit any bumps too roughly because I don't want to hurt her. Yeah, it's lots of fun. You have to be careful not to let the captive be seen, but it's worth the risk. For me and Eva, the best hour of the day is the one spent while bound and gagged. I am called a Gangsta, and I love feeling it and dressing it so much.

“Mmhggggggg!” my backseat captive continues.

I didn't always like Eva. Eva’s big mouth is a colossal pain, and she liked to make jokes about my ethnicity, offensive jokes that hurt me deeply once it went beyond a solitary well-timed jab to see how I’d react. The irony, though, is that she who used to wear a Native American style dress is now the sister-in-law of a girl who is at least 1/8 Seminole Indian and very much looks like it!

A glance in the rearview mirror gives me a glance of myself, and I frown at the site of my face. I don't like myself today, and I can't help it. Learning to live with borderline personality has been the hardest challenge of my life, and it's one that the Rondell’s have lovingly embraced. Without these fine people, I don't know where I’d be right now.

A week ago, Eva came over to see me and cried with sadness about her life, which had spiraled out of control in so many bad ways. How differently Eva behaved compared to when Ken and I eloped 5 years ago! The Eva I knew then was too tough to cry and never confessed anything to a soul except her sister and her cousin.

This is where the line between Eva and me is awesome. We both have a penchant for snarkiness. She is brazen where I am gentler. She's crafty and a talented baker; I used to burn Eggo toaster waffles before marriage whipped me into shape. We’re both retired athletes with otherworldly strength. Inside, we both love our families in ways we can't express, although unlike me she has a good relationship with her mother.

She doesn't struggle too much during the car ride. I can't imagine myself being 75%+ deaf like her, but she doesn't complain. She chooses to enjoy those things she can still do. Like right now she is just quietly enjoying her bondage without even knowing what is in store for her. Normally she is louder, but her common sense prevails in this scenario. It is far from the first time one of us has ambushed the other early in the day like this.

“Ghmm hmmmm twwwwwwww!”
“Come on! Get moving!” I haul her out of the car and to her feet, “Hop!”
“Gmm ffffkkkkk rmmmthlf!” the sage bandana makes her more profane than usual.
“I said to move!” I kick her in the rear and laugh at her screech.
“Gmmm mmm mmmmwwwww!” she is really muffled by the ball, but she cooperates.
“Just be glad I didn't use the 3 inch!” I castigate her.

Hop. Hop. Hop. Eva is a rope bunny; hopping is reasonable. I see cinches starting to slip, the ones that had nothing to grip anyway. Along her legs I had her dress and socks, but her arms are slowly slipping out. It is time to switch our new assistant to rope. I pin her to the wall and begin the switch from cinches to ropes. She emits groans of distress as if I’ve never kidnapped her and done even worse to her than this. Eva and I enjoy what is known as “consensual nonconsensual” play, and we know what our limits are. We push each other to endure more and more, though, in a healthy spirit of friendly competition.

With her no longer cinched or zipped, rough brown ropes line her body. Her wrists and elbows are tightly bound for sure. Her legs are standard 6 ropes along the length, but I made sure that I wrapped them into the heel of her boots when I tied her ankles. The harness and waist rope are perfect for her.

I force the girl into an office, a room where I have spent many hours bound and gagged since the day Ken and I started this business. She can't resist me in her current state, and I lay her across the desk Ken and I picked out just for her because we knew it would suit her organization needs and preferences. I wrap a rope around her braid many times until it's secure, and then I hogtie our new assistant. Call it hazing.

“Look, Eva, take a look around. Ken and I have to get some things ready before you can work.”
“Mmttt ygggg owwww?”
“Be bacccckkkkkk,” I tease her and walk away.

As I walk away, I take a pause to use the restroom. Another mirror with which I can hate myself for no good reason. Yet Ken and his sisters see something they love, and I in turn love them. I always wonder if my self-hatred inhibits my ability to love. Maybe it does, or maybe it's not that I hate myself but that I’m too critical of myself.

I know what Ken is going to need for today and begin setting things up so my sister-in-law can do those little things. I’ll explain my set-ups when Eva gets to them. It'll be worth the wait, that I promise. I have to make things just right so that my friend doesn't get hurt. Then I make her work and get all sweaty so that after lunch she'll get a delicious snack from her own feet.

“Eva?”
“Mmmmmmmmm. Mmmm uttt mmmmmm!” she groans on account of her hair tie.
“Babe,” I sit down in her chair, “I love you. I can't remove the sorrow of crushed dreams, but I hope Ken and I are providing some relief anyway. Would you like to get some work done before I introduce you to your new job?”
“Mmmmm,” she looks right at me, “Mmm hmm.”
“Let's go,” I undo the hair tie but leave the rope attached to her braid, “Hop.”
“Nmmmm,” she shakes her head defiantly even after I’ve been so congenial as to help her up.
“Hop!” I jerk on that braid rope.
“OWWWWW!” she stands up.
“GOOOO!” I kick her, right on the buttocks.

Eva takes a hop, and looks back at me. There’s relief in her eyes, and a smile on her face. She gets it even if she doesn’t fully understand it all yet. She works through it, not one content to be with a mystery. Some people have to know, and she is one who will create a list of possibilities and then work out each and every single one of them. She’s like me in a lot of ways.

Loving Eva is like loving myself, in many ways. OK, it’s not entirely precise, but it works for a girl like me, who struggles to love herself and even hates herself at times. Loving Eva brings me peace because we’re both difficult and a little argumentative. We’re both brazen, and we enjoy a good forced workout and some heavy duty torture.

Eva’s boots clomp once she exits the office and reaches the painted concrete floor. I have lots of friends from various backgrounds, and the most wild thing Ken and I have ever done is permit one of them to use this big room as a bondage studio in exchange for some money. I have seen some of it alongside Eva, but we would never participate. Another friend was part of a capstone project that involved making a short movie, and they used this room as their creepy location one night. Her clomping fits right in with those atmospheres.

“Mm hiiiiii eeeeee!” she is drooling a ton.
“Keep moving,” I shove her again.

Eva falls to the ground from that shove and wails as she hits the floor. She is taking lots of heavy breaths, and I know that she will soon need a drink. I help her up to force her to hop once again. I love that competitive fire in her eyes that burns while she hops along in her prison. Nothing is like this level inspiration, the sight of a dear friend tightly bound and gagged.

“Here it is,” I announce as we reach the destination.

A fine, handmade, unfinished, wooden chest of drawers sits strapped to a palette on wheels. This cannot be varnished over here and must be moved to somewhere with better ventilation. It's just the job for Eva. I lie her down on the floor and tie her ankles to the palette with a rope. I kneel on the floor beside Eva and roll her onto her back.

“You’re going to drag this palette over to that corner,” I point for her to see, “I’ll drive and make sure you don’t get hurt.”
“Mmm mmm mm mmmmmm! Mmm mmm mmmmm.”

She slowly scrunches a little distance. The painted concrete isn't too conducive to such motions, but I make her go slowly. I'm not going to bore you with this long and slow process, but it took a good 15 minutes. I had time, though. I made time for her. This was our time together, and I’ve been her sister-in-law long enough to know she's cherishing this moment.

When we're done, it's back to the office for more fun. I make her take a seat on the wooden chair in the corner and start the process of taking off her boots and socks before slipping off mine. I unknot the gag and hold a bottle of Powerade up to her lips. With caution, I remove the gag.

“Drink.”
“Mmmmmm,” she gladly drinks a substantial amount, “Thanks.”
“You're welcome.”
“For a kidnapper b-tch, you're nice,” she insults me on purpose.
“None of that,” my socks fills her mouth.
“Mmmmmm.”

I use her knee sock as a cleave gag and then wrap her face up in over a half dozen layers of gray duct tape. Her other sock is pulled over her nose and also tied behind her head. Back to the big desk, and back to the hair hogtie. She loves receiving these as much as I do, but she likes getting humiliated by the dirty sock treatment much more than I. The hair, this time, is to her big toes, which are now tied together with brown twine.

I sit with my chin in my hands, unable to process what has happened to her. Life is never fair to her in particular. She lost volleyball, her hearing, her dream job, her backup job, and her lover in such a brief lifetime. We’re only 24 years old. I had my first child at just 21. I’m getting to live my dreams and then some, and hers were all crushed.

This wasn't the pack animal story I thought it would be for you when I sat down to write it. It's a meaningful story, though, because life hadn't been fair to me nor I to myself. I see my reflection in the computer monitor, still turned off, that is part of Eva’s workstation, and I frown again. She sees my reflection, and my frown, and disapproves. Even while in a hogtie with a hair tie, she is still the sassy girl who hides her “softer” emotions from all but those to whom she's closest. She hides them even from those folks quite often.

I take a seat at my own desk and fire up the computer. I knew I’d mostly be in here today for my own side of the business. I had some civil engineer duties that awaited me and couldn't be done by anyone else. Eva’s struggle made perfect background noise over the sounds of saws and other power tools.

Army tough Eva was such a unique character. How many girls can boast the combination that is her? Tough as nails, her own seamstress, lover of intense TUGs, and owner of the sharpest and quickest tongue in Minnesota. We share some flaws, and we complemented each other. Time is going by. At 9:30, I free her hair. At 10:00, I undo the hogtie. At 10:30, I spank her for failing to escape on her own.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Twenty-four for the 24 year-old Eva. She cries out loudly but loves the spanking. She yells and swears into her gag, but her eyes show that mixed competitive fire and love. My reflection in the monitor is again a source of personal grief to me.

At 11:00, I blindfold her with a brown bandana. At 11:30, I ball tie her on the carpet and spank her another 24 times. Yes, she can handle it; yes, she likes it; yes, I like it; yes, we like it just as much when the roles are reversed; yes, my reflection makes me hate myself again.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

At noon, I tie up her hair again. At 12:30, I release her. Completely. Eva understands and isn't disappointed. She takes whatever is given to her. After nearly 5 hours, she is ready for her first day at work for me and Ken. This is her first real time to talk. I forgot to mention that I took a hundred photos and a half-dozen videos throughout the process, but Eva’s favorite photos are of herself after she's released. Some call them pin-ups, and she does pose sometimes. What she is really wanting to do is remember the rope marks. She studies her body carefully and smiles.

“It's a good thing you freed me,” she chugs a Powerade, “I made ginger snaps just for you.”
“Really?! I didn't ever look in your lunchbox!” I watch her smile and wiggle her eyebrows.
“Most girls would spend their time crying if they went through what I did. Me? I fight back.”
“That's what makes us get along. I cry, and you know how to slap it out of me,” I laugh.
“Come on. Let's eat,” the big girl is so soaked in sweat her clothes are discolored.
“We’ll get on the business stuff after.”

Of course, we signed that conversation. It's our way. Only she could so patiently teach me how to sign so we can always talk to each other no matter what happens with her ears. People talk about “going through hell,” but she managed to keep the A/C cool enough that she didn't burn up like most of those folks do.

Lunch is wonderful. Training is easy. Explaining how to balance sheets is nothing for a girl like Eva. Soon, we're at our computers, doing the things that need doing, whether it's helping Ken or answering the phone or making phone calls. We're doing it, and we're doing it together. It's just how we imagined it would be. Some time passes before we need to communicate again.

“Janie, have you ever been scared?” she suddenly asks me, quite unlike her.
“Like I wasn't scared the night they… or the night I?” I respond with a sigh.
“Am I going to be judged my entire life because I’m deaf?”
“I doubt it. Ken and I will always be able to use you even if you need a teletype phone.”
“Volleyball, army, nursing, Nick… it's all been taken from me!” she bangs the desk and starts crying!
“Eva, oh, sis, I’m sorry,” I jumped and walked over to her.
“I’ve never been scared before,” she stands up and looks right at me.
“Come on, let it out. You’ve been hiding it from everyone, even Caleigh, for weeks.”

I’ve never seen her cry. She hit her breaking point; she'd finally borne more than she could bear. I don't know what to say in this situation, but I hug her still. It's brief, but she still does it. She lets go and grabs one of her pink handkerchiefs, the ones she uses as real handkerchiefs, and is drying off her eyes when she finally speaks again.

“That's,” she sniffs, “how much you mean to me. Not even Caleigh has seen me cry over this.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I don't know how to respond because I’m shocked.
“Janie,” she shakes her head, “you're clueless but lovable.”
“Sorry, I just… Well, you know I have mommy issues.”
“Shut up!” the moment ends, “We have work to do. Sappy stuff is for later.”
“Does that mean there'll be more sappy stuff?”
“If we're alone, and you're bound and gagged, yes,” she says confidently, “Janie, on behalf of all the Rondell’s, I mean it when I say we love you. Ken loves you most, but I’m second.”
“That's going to cause trouble with your sister.”
“Oh, frig her! Let her come at me so I can tie her in a knot!” she quips without turning.
“Haha!”
“And quit with the self-esteem bull-turd. You're a freaking hottie,” she looks at me.
“OK, that's enough,” I blush and smile.
“Oh, don't you tell me when to shut up! I’ll suspend you from the ceiling!” she fires right back!

That is the Eva I love! It is a marvelous first day on the job for Eva. It's not going to be, I hope, the only time TUGs happen at work. Enough quiet days have seen Ken tie me up, and I know I will get into many adventures with Eva with the passage of time.

See you next time!

THE END

[hafnermg]

Another fun adventure!! I love how attentive these girls are to each other!! I want to see that mushy time later with Janie tied up!!