Annie and Me 7: We Love Momma (F/FFFFff)

[AlexUSA3]

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I apologize for what is the longest single-chapter short story I have ever written, at over 7100 words!

Annie and Me 7: We Love Momma (F/FFFFff)
Sunday, January 5, 2020

This was a very special day because my best friends, the Sjaastad’s, were coming to my house to spend a lovely afternoon of laughter and conversation. It was sisters and sisters. My little sister could spend time with Kristina, I could spend time with Bridget, and Paulina would hopefully be able to acquaint herself with Erin. Paulina’s English skills had come a very long way in such a short time here.

We have changed into more comfortable clothes, those of us who were likely to do so. We are in the living room, sitting together, with the girls on the floor. I never imagined finding friends that would mean so much to me in this family, but Bridget and I go back to high school. Friendship like theirs is irreplaceable.

The six of us chatted away in our own conversations while Momma sat on her chair knitting just as she always did on Sunday afternoons. We had cowgirls, church girls, a nice girl, and a frumpy girl. No, no, I’m not the frumpy girl; I’m one of the church girls. My little sister, my friend, and her friend are the cowgirls; Momma is the other church girl; Erin’s the nice girl; it’s Paulina who is the frump. For Annila, it is a difficult time, for it’s her first Christmas without her late mother.

Kristina and Bridget were true cowgirls, whereas Annila, my little sister, was a cowgirl gangster. I’ll explain in a second. All are wearing jeans; Kristina’s are black; Annie’s are green; Bridget’s are blue. Kristina even has a black denim jacket to go with her jeans. All have plaid and flannel shirts, button-up style, that feature two colors. Kristina’s shirt is yellow and black; Annie’s is purple and pink; Bridget’s is red and black. All have paisley bandana neckerchiefs; Kristina’s is yellow; Annie’s is pink; Bridget’s is black. Only Annie has a headband, a purple bandana. She’s so cute, trying to be like her big sister and her friend at the same time. Bad choices were made.

Erin is a person I have admired since the day I first met her some 5 years ago as a high school freshman who was Bridget’s underling on a local rowing squadron. She is a girl of prayer and of the earth, I like to say. She is wearing a beige kerchief bandana both to hold her hair back and to remind her to pray. It does, however, match her beige knee socks and her beige slip on shoes. A brown turtleneck t-shirt and a simple silver bracelet summarize this lovely human being.

All of the Sjaastad’s are of pure Nordic blood, Swedish and Norwegian. Erin, bless her heart, is a fluent speaker of both languages, having had two of her great-grandparent immigrants around her life until she was in her 20s. She and Paulina needn’t worry about broken English chatter as Paulina frequently travels to Stockholm for work, so they’re going back and forth in Swedish! I am charmed by her personality and admire her dedication to maintaining purity of heart.

The Sjaastad’s share the stereotypical eyes that are bluish and the blonde hair, but they all have a slightly unique trait in it. The hair is pale blonde, but it varies. Bridget’s hair is purely straight without variation and almost shines; Erin’s is a dull version of Bridget’s; Kristina’s has Bridget’s platinum majority, and a big swatch streak of brown emanating from the nape of her neck. Such a beautiful family in body and spirit.

Of course, Erin is taller than Bridget and more slender. She has some health issues that go with her build. Bridget, on the other hand, is stocky. Kristina is narrower like Erin but stronger than Bridget. In fact, Kristina is now the same height as Erin, which is, I think, 5’6”. She might grow a little more yet, and she will be the biggest of her siblings.

Paulina is dressed for warmth. She is in love with her sweatshirts, and how little she knows that I have bought her a Minnesota Tech (my school) sweatshirt for Christmas. The one she has is for BC Pärnu, the basketball club that plays in her hometown. The bright blue is contrasted by black sweatpants and black running sneakers. In keeping with the theme of this lesser known corner of the circle of friends known as “The Cool Girls’ Club,” she is wearing a bright blue kerchief from my own collection, much like Annie always does.

Annie won’t be borrowing my bandanas anymore after this Christmas.

I can’t forget about myself. I look like a little old grandma sitting here with one of my shawls, a favorite of mine, handmade by my mother during those dark days when we struggled so badly to live day-to-day that even in the dead of winter we would sometimes drop the heat as low as 50 to 52℉ to save money in order to afford the mortgage that we had then. She loved me so much that she still secretly used money we didn’t have to spare in order to make this for me for Christmas as a 12 year-old. Oh, Momma, how I love you so much!

The pink shawl is large and keeps me warm. Underneath the shawl, I wear a purple soft woolen vest, and under that is a pink turtleneck t-shirt. My skirt is long and purple, full of pink flowers, and my socks are pink and come up to my knees. My shoes are so-called low-heel pumps, white and comfortable. My headscarf is white and has similar flowers to my skirt, and the tails of the scarf are worked into my typical braid at Momma’s suggestion.

We sisters are also similar but different. We're all blondes. I have varying streaks of lighter and darker shades of blonde; Annie's are more drastic streaks, but the base color is the same; Paulina has a more pale blonde in general thanks to her Estonian blood. Similarly, we all have blue eyes, but mine are more on the green side whereas Annie and Paulina are more gray.

For the Sjaastad’s, Christmas was 2 weeks ago or so. My family is not just Orthodox Christian, but Momma and I, unlike the Sjaastad’s or even Annie’s family, adhere to the “old” calendar that still follows the medieval period rules, which means our Christmas is on January 7th of the next year while Annie and the Sjaastad girls celebrated it on December 25th. My papa attends church at a modern calendar Orthodox church that is in good standing with my and Momma’s church.

Momma calmly gets up and closes the curtains. Annie and I look at each other and smile, for it is still before sundown. Momma disappears and returns with some bags; and I know my friends have theirs. It is time for some of us to be kidnapped whether by Momma or by Momma’s order. I love these games so much. Momma then goes to the kitchen and grabs a can.

“This is not can of Jolly Green Giant,” she calmly announces, “This is bomb! Do as I say.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I take the lead so others will follow, “Please, do not hurt us.”
“Why are you doing this?” Annila falls right in step.
“This is kidnapping. I will make money selling you beautiful girls, especially you,” she looks at me of course, as if she were biased for some reason, “Is any girl too stiff for elbow tie? Tell me.”
“I am,” Bridget is into the game as well, “What do you want?”
“You,” Momma says to Bridget, “will be taped. I will use names to be clear. Kristina, you are to be tied with scarves. Erin, you have mentioned ribbon; for this, you will tie up Annila with your ribbon. Samantha, you will be tied with velcro straps. Paulina, you will be also tied in ribbon, if there is enough. Erin, you will be strapped like Samantha. No questions. You will all sit down and hand over your shoes and your socks. No talking, or you will blast yourselves to Mercury. Now, hand me your toy bags slowly.”

Erin and Kristina came well-armed for this party, and now Momma has my bag as well. There is nothing unknown to Momma in her own home; she is one of those ladies that can stand outside a military installment and see her own child do something naughty inside the commander’s office. I love Momma so much, and she loves me even more. She loves my sisters and friends as well even though my sisters are my father’s children from other women.

I watch Erin and Kristina slowly pass over their bags to Momma who takes them and takes steps back to the dining table while holding the can of green beans. She looks inside and nods with an indisputably satisfied grin on her face. Momma has grown to… like our games? Yes, she has, it seems. My momma is such an interesting lady who cherishes each moment with her only child.

“Erin, I see you like your ribbon and rope. You will tie up Annila,” Momma is in charge now!
“Yes, ma’am,” Erin says quite quietly and with a touch of fear despite being 8 years my senior.
“Tie her to this chair.”

Erin uses the ribbon just like one would use rope to tie Annie’s wrists and elbows together. It is Momma's order that ribbon also be wrapped around spindles of the chair. Into Annie's mouth go Kristina’s black socks, given to Erin by Momma, and a red bandana holds that all in her mouth. At Momma's order, black tape crushes Annie's face six times. Then, Erin uses the ribbon to tie Annie’s ankles, knees, thighs above the knee, and thighs below the waist. Ribbon secures my little sister's ankles to the crossbar under the chair. Fabric ribbons above and below her boobs and waist secure her to the chair back, and one at the waist secures her to the chair seat. Momma makes sure all are cinched well. A little ribbon ties her big toes.

“Now, hogtie Paulina,” the captor orders Erin.

Paulina gets tied up in a similar fashion to Annie's basic bondage, but she is not sitting on a chair like our baby sister. Instead, she is on her stomach on the coffee table, and the ribbon is red and has a Christmas pattern of snowflakes and trees and such. It is a lovely ribbon binding my lovely big sister. One of my knee socks goes into her mouth, accompanied by funny retching sounds; it is held in by a green bandana and clear tape. My other knee sock is tied over her nose. Now, my big sister must smell me and taste me. How pleasant. Not! A little ribbon also secures her toes. Finally, a cruel series of twine is used to bind her fingers. Each of her four fingers is twice tied to the same finger of the opposite hand. The thumbs are tied only once. A piece secures all four fingers together, and the last is intricately worked to secure the palms together before also being used to secure the thumb to the rest of the hand.

“Samantha, you will duct tape Bridget. Now. Here,” Momma hands me white tape.
“Must she?” Bridget whines a little.
“Shall the Jolly Green Giant detonate?” Mom a threatens her.

Taping Bridget is so much fun when you know what you are doing. Momma is so attentive and so loving, she pays attention to what I say about my friends even. I cross Bridget's wrist into an ‘X’ that I secure in a tight ‘+’ and also wrap around her waist for maximum security. I crush her torso, as was done with the ribbon, on either side of her boobs. Where I differ is that I encase her legs in the tape, wrapping from her ankles up to her knees and from her knees up to her waist in the white tape. I wrap the soles of her feet as well. Momma has me wrap Bridget’s big toes in green electrical tape. She is gagged with Annie's green crew socks and eight layers of the white duct tape, which Momma has me cruelly wrap over her hair. We do not stop. Bridget's legs are pulled into her chest, and I encase her legs and torso, wrapping around the back of her thighs and her back itself. Bridget’s hands are ordered into fists, under threat of blasting, and taped. Alas, I wish I were in your position instead, my friend.

“Sammy, how you will tie Erin in the velcro straps. Do it well so that Kristina can do it to you as well and learn from you if she doesn't already know.”

I sigh and tape out the many, many velcro straps with which I play games with all of my friends both here and at school. There are enough to properly tie at least 2 if not 3 people. The straps in truth are simple, similar to the ones that wrap wires sometimes when you buy electronics, but on these there is a squared off plastic ‘D’ ring instead. Safety is in numbers, and I use five of the 12 inch straps on the flexible Erin, Four are for her forearms, and one goes above her elbows. They are 1 inch wide. Long straps, 96 inches long and 3 inches wide, go on either side of her boobs (I pull them tight too) and at her waist. I use three 24 inch by 2 inch straps to tie her thighs and yet another three 12 inch by 1 inch straps on her legs. A tiny strap ties her big toes. She is gagged with Paulina’s white socks and a brown bandana.

“Kristina, you will now bind Sammy to this chair.”

I take a seat beside Annie, who looks at me and squeaks into Kristina’s socks. To my dismay, it’s a 24 inch by 2 inch strap that Kristina is given to bind my wrists behind my back. Not only is the strap but also a thin strap gets wrapped between my wrists as a cinching. I’m getting the best for being Momma's own child. Up my arms go the 1 inch straps, crushing my arms together. Then, a series of 2 inch straps secures my arms to the spindles along the chair back. I’m definitely not escaping this one on my own. Up my legs go the straps just like I did to Erin, and my legs, much like Annie’s, are secured to the crossbar on the bottom of the chair. I get four of the 96 inch by 3 inch straps. One for each side of my boobs, one for my waist, and one for my thighs. Paulina’s socks go into my mouth, and as Momma’s daughter I get a different gag from the rest that is only just beginning. A large silken scarf is folded up, pulled between my jaws, wrapped behind me, and given a single knot; then the long tails (it's the largest scarf in my bag) are wrapped in front, passed between my jaws again, pulled behind me, single knotted, wrapped around my braid, and double knotted. I cannot move an inch. I cannot forget the little strap on my big toes.

“Now, Kristina, it is your turn,” Momma is calm and stern yet loving.
“Yes, Mrs. Räänta,” she stoically obeys.

Scarves, of which I have so many, take over the girl’s body. Kristina is tied with at least a dozen of them. Wrists, forearms, elbows, chest above and below her boobs, waist, legs in three places, thighs in three places, and big toes (with twine). So many scarves are on her, and she is gagged just like I am with one of Erin's socks and a big scarf. Erin's other knee sock goes over her nose. She is in trouble, and she and Erin are forced to sit on the table beside me. The three of us get a tight wrapping of gray duct tape, six layers of it. Kristina gets a rubber band from produce to tie her big toes together.

“Mmmmmmm,” I moan into Bridget's socks.
“Yes, I need to do better to you, Samantha,” Momma says to me specifically.
“Hmmmm?” I look up at her and gaze into her eyes.
“Don't worry,” she smiles, “Momma will make sure you're gagged as good as needed.”
“Mmmmm!” Momma ties scarves babushka style on us three in the row.

Babushka style means folded into a triangle, pulled over the head with the triangle draped over your hair, and knotted under the chin. Momma knots them tightly. The third layer is the cruel layer in which Momma puts heels over our noses, uses a big triangular scarf OTN gag to hold them in place (the heel end is over our noses, and the scarf is pulled all the way up to the heel), and adds another babushka style scarf. I have one of Momma's heels, and Erin and Kristina have my pumps. I can see the sisters are charmed by Momma's approach and happy to be here.

Then comes the next of Momma's loving injustices. Each of the three cowgirls has her bandana removed so Momma can use it to blindfold them. Oh, Momma, you do have your own streaks of TUG love, and using our socks and bandanas against us is high on the list! Your love is special and of a much higher kind than the love of these seemingly unbelievable friendships I have. We are all blessed, in our own ways, to have you in our lives. Kristina is laid upon the floor beside me and put into an ankles-to-elbows scarf hogtie.

Poor Bridget. Momma takes my other pump, secures it in a similar position over Bridget's nose but using white tape instead, and she even wraps it as a second blindfold for my friend. Bridget is not escaping this in any manner, and she randomly flails her legs in her semi-mummified state. My envy for her position has faded away and shifted towards Annie or Paulina.

Speaking of Paulina, she gets a similar approach to her face, but instead she gets one of Kristina Sjaastad’s horrible sneakers against her nose, as if my knee sock was insufficient, but the taping is tight and does not include a blindfold because, like her gag, it is clear tape. Instead, Momma uses a green bandana to blindfold her.

Annie gets things just like Bridget. One of Erin’s shoes is put over her nose and black taped into place with Momma also using the tape as a second blindfold. She cannot do anything except gag talk and squeal. She is adorably helpless, and I can hear the happiness in her voice. Somehow, I do not know why, Momma let us keep our headgear. Alas, I am a scarf girl in trouble, and they are Cool Girls Gangsta Girls in just as much of trouble. What fun we are having!

Momma has a special affection for Erin Sjaastad. She is laid upon the kitchen table and put into a cruel ankles-to-elbows hogtie using one of my only 48 inch straps. Out comes the massive bag of rubber bands with which Mom gives Erin and I her best, and the same fate awaits Kristina and Annie as well. Remember Paulina and the twine? Momma repeats this but uses rubber bands on our fingers instead to secure our fingers together, our palms, and our thumbs. Thumbs are bound to the palms as well. Erin and I both receive what I will describe next, based on how it sounds.

Then it comes. Momma ties a big headscarf on me using a jumbo scarf, which means she pulls it down to my nose, forcing it under the heel, before finishing the scarf and tying it off! A second OTN gag secures the heel in place even more, then what I suppose is a handkerchief is a second blindfold. Finally, Momma ties a third babushka scarf on me. I am completely helpless. There is no escape for any of us at this point. We are truly Momma’s prisoners now. I hear my phone camera at work. She is taking photos and videos of us for my memories. How she loves us all.

“You have 45 minutes to escape, and then I blast,” Momma declares.
“Mmmmmm,” I quietly groan into my gag and faintly hear others doing the same.

The cinch straps do well when the victim is so comfortably dressed. I can barely move anything at all, and Momma knows this. I have a slight advantage over Annie in that the cinches can once in a while be slowly worked down because the velcro loosens. Erin and I only have this over our friends and siblings, and this is why Momma wrapped our heads so much. It is wonderful and at the same time horrible.

“Mmmmmm!” I repeat quietly in my imprisonment and scoot the chair a little.

Velcro straps work so well because I am wearing long sleeves. The fabric gives the strap a little something to dig into. Otherwise, with enough effort, they will fall down to my wrists from my arms or elbows. Because I am sitting and secured to the chair so well, I cannot shimmy my legs to slide those straps down either. My arms are attached to the chair back very well, and there is no way I can shimmy them either. I can only slowly struggle and hope to budge something.

Even my chest is normally easy. My boobs hold the strap above them in place, but I can usually get the one below to slip down to my waist. Like this, I am trapped in place, and the cinches win the battle against me. My arms are bound and crushed. My legs are folded by the chair and tied in a secure manner. My chest is fastened to the chair back. My head is wrapped; dirty socks are in my mouth; Momma's heel is over my nose. I’m in my favorite position of all: helplessly tied and gagged in a kidnapping game where Momma is my captor.

“Mmmmmm!” I keep trying, but no one hears me because of my many gags.

Except for Bridget, I hear soft happy squeals from all of us captives, especially Annila and Erin, who seem to be delighted with the extreme situations in which Momma has placed them. We are all facing an equal chance of escape, none. The bondage is too tight, too layered, too strong, too detailed, and too clever.

Erin and I have so many layers that it is hard not to sweat profusely from the combination of the scarves, the shoe, the tape, the binding, and the excitement. I at least am on a chair; Erin is in a hogtie on the table. The cinches control us in every possible manner. The gag is stifling. Wow, Momma does not smell so bad this time, so perhaps Annie and I have been spared. Regardless, I have 7 layers of gag that are silencing me, and so does Erin. What fun! Momma has given both of us her best, and her best is given in love. I hope Erin enjoys it as much as I.

I wonder how Kristina feels about her first scarf bondage. From my understanding, Kristina had not played any games here at Momma's house while I was away, so this was her first time being Momma's captive or being tied with these since the scarves never left here except when I took a bunch of them to school so I’d have enough for my friends and I to play. The youngest Sjaastad also has two of the babushka scarf gags.

My beloved Bridget is in so much trouble over on the one sofa with so much duct tape binding her body so well. Before I was blindfolded, I saw her legs move in and out from her thighs many times, and she is probably the most tortured of us all with the tape blindfold and my pump being over her nose. My feet stink. If I know Bridget as well as I believe I do, she is the happiest one of us all. She loves tape best, enjoys the humiliation of eating other’s socks more than I, and has a strong love (shall I say fetish?) for being forced to smell stinky shoes.

The two girls in the ribbon bondage have perhaps the closest equivalent to a traditional TUG. It is like being tied with rope, but it is a soft fabric that, when the captor can be slow and careful, is strong and wraps more than regular rope. Paulina looked so seasonal being tied with a Christmas ribbon, but Kristina's sneaker is the stinkiest of all Sjaastad sneakers. Paulina is enviable, which perhaps means I have a sneaker fetish like Bridget. Annila is comfortable, but Erin wrapping her binding around the spindles of the chair ended any chance she had of escape. My little sister has become as much of a glutton for TUGs as Erin and me. I’m just the most submissive of us three.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” I wiggle my feet.
“Samantha, since you asked so kindly, I will do that. In fact, I will do it to the others as well.”

Do what Momma? You’re not going to tickle us are you? Of course you will tickle us. You like tickling your captives and just won’t admit it. You do it too many times, even in games like this where tickling is not really appropriate or fair. Ah, Momma, you are mischievous like I am, but you express it so differently because of your dominant personality.

I am wrong, though. Momma is not tickling us. Instead, each of the six of us gets an ice cube in her shirt, lovingly placed there by Momma. It is cold and shocking. If anyone was drowsy, as I know the two older Sjaastad’s, and me too, sometimes can doze off while tied up. If they were on the way to a nap, they sure won’t fall asleep for a long time now. Besides, we need to escape before Momma blasts us to Mercury or Jupiter or whichever planet she named in her threats.

It is so stifling under the layers of scarf. Part of me wishes she did fewer layers, and part of me wishes she’d gone all out and done another 5 or 10 layers of scarves and gags. I am tied tightly and am barely able to move anything at all. It is the thrill of being tied up that you cannot move or resist the captor’s will in any way, and I know we can all trust Momma to do nothing cruel to us. She is the best captor for a large group such as this because she is so attentive.

“Mmmmmmmmmmm!” I try again, but nothing is loosening.

Only Paulina, Erin, and Annie have a real chance of escaping this prison. I keep trying so hard, but the cinches hold me firmly in their grasp. I am crushed to the back of this chair. The church girl has been kidnapped by her own mother, and now she has mere minutes to escape before she is blasted to whichever planet that was. I try to kick, but the straps are not loosening when I have so little room with which to resist.

Being blindfolded is such an incredible thrill in TUGs. You cannot see anything that your captor is preparing to do to you or, in this case, to your fellow captives. I love the loss of my sight, and it is enough to just remove my glasses to blind me because my vision is so poor. Such, however, is without the sensations of having the fabric tightly tied over my eyes to ensure I cannot remove it with ease and thereby regain my sight. This is the better way, indeed.

The socks in my mouth taste horrible, but they could be worse. Paulina’s socks aren’t nearly as bad as any of the Sjaastad’s, Momma’s, or mine. Only Annie’s are better, in my opinion, and I’m quite the sock connoisseur according to all of my friends. This doesn’t change the humiliation of being forced to suck on my older sister’s toe cheese. I’m not a fan of many cheeses except when Momma and I have it with a pasta recipe, like spaghetti and meatballs or macaroni and cheese. I am an odd one, I know, but these are my opinions alone, and you needn’t agree with me.

“Mmmmmm!” I squirm as much as I can, but I go nowhere.
“All right, Samantha, I will do that,” Momma just keeps on taunting me for my love of gag talk!

Momma goes to work once again, this time intricately wrapping a scarf around my braid. A pull on my braid shoots a little pain through my head, and I am forced to look up towards the ceiling before the scarf is knotted around my wrists. She also adds a second of the headscarf blindfolds like the first one, yet another babushka scarf, and another OTN gag. How my Momma loves me! She kisses me on the forehead as well before she tightens every single one of the cinch straps. I respond to this by expanding my muscles as much as possible.

“Mmmmm,” I am even a little quieter than before.
“Nnnnnn,” I hear Kristina moan a little.
“You are jealous, yes? OK, Kristina, I will do that for you.”
“Mmmmmmm!” another protests, which I think is Paulina.
“Well, well, you all wish to endure a little bit more than what is already given?”
“Nooooooooo!” Bridget says very clearly for all of us.
“All right then. I will stop. Besides, my little can will blast before you can escape.”
“Mmmmmmm,” I groan again, willing to take the risk to express my dismay.

Momma has all the cards she needs to win this game. I have yet to defeat her, and today is going to be another notch in her gun. I so badly want to win. I am an athlete and competitor. Winning is a part of who I am. I cannot be defeated again, can I? Momma has a heavy scorecard leaning in her favor despite the fact that I can escape from the bondage when playing with others. I have to admit that I had never escaped scarf or wire bondage though.

Annila wails and squeals. She very much plays along with Momma’s games, and of all of us in this room I would say it is Annie then Erin who are playing along most with the game. Paulina is charmed by these crazy games, though, and is growing to appreciate them. Only Bridget can appreciate my desire to win; she is a rower and a determined competitor as well.

“Mmmmmmm!” I thrash about knowing that there are too many things against me.

What is it that is special about this timer to my “death” that excited me so much? Why am I able to enjoy this game more on account of it? That timer makes the cinches tighter, the gag heavier, the shoe stinkier, and the temperature higher. I often sweat profusely and am right now, but now I am sweating more than normal. Is it my competitive nature or my love of TUGs? Questions of this nature cannot be answered now, but I know I am enjoying myself regardless.

I use my strength, my rowing strength, and thrash out with great force, the force that allowed me to overpower girls bigger than myself. This time, I experience a miracle in moving something. I repeat my concentrated explosion. Yes, the velcro is responding to my resistance! I knew cinch straps usually gave, but I didn't think I could do this. I must thrash again and again until I start to loosen them. My gag is wonderful and exciting, but it must go with time as well. Momma, it is my turn to finally win a game, and I know we will love each other even more afterwards if I win.

“Mmmmmmm!” I do it all a fifth time.

Straps are loosening around me. I must hurry, though, because time is running out. If I fail, I am blasted to outer space. I feel them loosening. Victory is mine if I am fast enough. There are so many straps, and I also have the rubber bands on my fingers. My arms are loose enough I that I try shimmying my arms to move the rubber bands, and it works. I feel the rubbers move down and off my hands. Cinches are loosening. My little muscle trick worked. When I relaxed after Momma was done tightening the cinches, the straps loosened a bit because my volume was less. I now use my fingers to pull at different straps, and slowly the come off. Time is running out!

My arms are almost free. More picking with my fingers and shimmying of my arms, and all of the straps have fallen down my arms. I finally get the strap off my wrists. I am free! I must be faster with the rest, especially on account of my braid. It is hard, but I find the scarf and free my braid from its prison. I begin pulling off layer after layer of scarves until I get the blindfold layer off my head. Then it is easy to take the shoe off my face, pull scarves either off or down to my neck, and unwrap the tape. I unknot the scarf and spit out the socks with two minutes left. We are silent, but Momma and I know of my success. I quickly rip off the straps along my legs and jump up. It is time to bid farewell to my friends, who will now blast to Planet Jolly Green Giant.

“It was nice knowing you. I must be off,” and I run to my room with 5 seconds to spare.

Then the timer beeps, and Momma plays her beloved montage video of explosions. The sounds fill the house, and I hear my sisters and friends groaning in disappointment. I am in my room, in a room with a shut door, removing my headscarf and replacing it with a more standard headband made from my pink tiedye bandana. With the scarf, my braid comes undone, but this is OK now as opposed to you ger Sammy who was vain and hid her hair due to pride.

“Samantha, I am proud of you,” Momma says, and we embrace, “You won the game.”
“Winning only matter because I’d never won,” I kiss Momma on the cheek.
“You were a pleasure to watch. My captives are your captives.”
“Momma, I do love you so much.”
“You are much prettier with your hair down,” she says, and I blush.
“Bridget, are you having fun?” I ask the taped girl.
“Mmmmm!” she kicks her legs.

It has been a fun afternoon of binding and bonding. I go to the bathroom first and admire the red marks the cinches left and the redness of my face from the gags and tape. It has been a delightful time with many of the people I love the most, and we will never forget this game. I take my time to admire what Erin and Kristina look like in their respective bondages with the overkill gags we had received from Momma. It is an incredible sight. Most incredible are the piles of scarves and cinches on the floor around the chair where I’d been sitting. I had won, and I am smiling, a sight that is rare with me. Someday, it will be Annie's turn to win, and maybe one or more Sjaastad’s will get the chance as well even if today was a defeat. Paulina isn't likely since she's a newbie.

There is an important task that now falls on me: to free my friends and sisters. I know how each of my friends can be. Erin and Kristina prefer a slower release like I do, but Annie, Bridget, and Paulina prefer a faster release where everything comes off at once. Bridget, Kristina, and I, who are all more fit, prefer to drink a Gatorade after a game; Erin prefers a bottle of water; Annie will want a glass of cranberry-raspberry juice; Paulina gets a craving for chocolate milk. We all have our unique needs.

I start by unwrapping Erin and Kristina’s heads from the many scarves while Momma, upon my request, takes a video of me unwrapping them and commenting as if it is Christmas Day already here in the small household of Katerina Lagunova-Räänta and her daughter Samantha. Alas, it is a day better in a sense, because of all the love we’ve shared. I undo the hogties. Once that much is done to them, I feel safe moving on to my older sister. The sweaty girls are still tape gagged, and it is no surprise really that Erin lost her kerchief in the chaos of her bondage.

The ribbon is a pretty way to tie up a girl, and I can see Momma likes it as well. I can guess that a certain girl will get tied with this ribbon the next time Erin Sjaastad visits here. It takes me no time at all to untie my sister because I have so much experience with these games. I help her to sit up and hand her the can of chocolate milk. She smiles but says nothing.

Bridget is next, but she requires scissors for the most part. I imagine she is thrilled to have my pump removed from her nose. She has struggled the most, and it takes me a long time to get the tape off her head without hurting her because the duct tape has left a lot of residue. Bridget will need to take a shower for sure if she is to get this off. When she is free, she says nothing but just flops on her back on the floor. She needs time to adjust to things in her own time.

I turn back to Erin and Kristina, who are red faced and breathing heavily. I do not understand it, but I can tell that Erin has a special affection for me and almost isn’t ready to be untied. She still wants to be tied up, which is unlike her. Somehow, today I have taken a very special place in her heart, a place that I cannot describe nor appreciate because she is almost 10 years my senior. She is already 29, and I am only 20 years old. Yet, she looks at me like I am the long lost sister born between Bridget and Kristina. I do what any sane person would do and hug her tightly. Indeed, I try to then undo her bindings, and she pulls away from me. She wants to be the last one untied.

Kristina has loved her first genuine scarf bondage, and I think she appreciates my love of the soft fabric prison. Bridget was a bit critical after the one time I tied her with scarves, and I no longer even talk about my love of scarf bondage with her. When I visit Bridget at her apartment, I must get her roommates to tie me up if I want to be tied up with scarves, but Kristina and Erin always want to try something new in TUGs despite being old-school like Bridget. I untie all but her legs and leave her to do the rest at her own pace, just the way she likes.

I move now to Annila, sweet Annila Räänta, my little sister. She is easy to release, like Paulina, and the reward at the end is worth it. Annie is proud of me as well, and she is eager to hug me on account of my great escape. Neither of us had ever beaten Momma, and at that we’d rarely beaten each other at this. I’d escaped Annie’s bindings two or three times, and she’d escaped mine only one or two times. We were quite awful at this escape business. I hand her the juice, and she smiles, takes the juice, takes a big gulp, and thanks me for it.

Finally, it is time to finish untying Erin Sjaastad, who is quite happy and has even been singing Christmas carols through her gag. I don’t give her a choice, though, and free her from the velcro straps that have been crushing her body for over an hour. She is such a happy person, deep down inside her heart, which makes her so much more pleasant than her sisters. She has feelings as do we all, but she is a “glass half full” person despite suffering from early arthritis and autoimmune disease. She stands up, stretches, expresses her happiness, and goes to the bathroom. She uses the mirror so she can see better to put that beige kerchief bandana back where it belongs. She is soon sitting on the sofa next to Paulina, talking in Swedish and chugging a bottle of water. Yes, they are so fluent in their Swedish that they can talk about TUGs in Swedish.

“There is something special about a mother who treats her daughter’s friends as if they were her own daughters,” Bridget finally speaks up, “It really comes home to me.”
“I know this time of year is hard for you,” I respond to her, “Was it a good day?”
“I’ve learned to adjust. I miss Mom, but the jealousy of girls with mothers is gone.”
“I know how you feel. This is my first Christmas without my mom,” Annie admits as well.
“I was younger than you when my mom died; I can’t imagine how you feel,” Kristina adds.
“See,” Erin smiles at us all, “We’ve all gotten something special out of the Räänta family.”

How right she is! Kristina hugs Annie, which staves off her tears. Bridget hugs me for the same reason. In imitation, Paulina and Erin hug each other in celebration of their new friendship. The love a mother brings cannot ever be replaced, but we can feel that same affection in the moments like these when we get that warmth from another mother. Today has been a wonderful day, and I know Christmas evening just has to include at least some of these Sjaastad girls.

Momma, we all love you.

THE END

[Caesar73]

I do have one word for the Writer: "Lovely, just lovely!" And the Length does not hurt in the slightest. To me it did not felt that long. It had natural flow.

[harveygasson]

Wow some very tight ties and gags for them in this one!

[hafnermg]

Nothing to apologize for. The more the better!! Excellent story!!