Pranked (M/F)

[AlexUSA3]

Pranked (M/F)
Monday, May 29, 2017

When Chris and I decided to get married and eloped when I was 21, a college junior and he but a college senior, we knew it was a risk. It was about protecting me from people who didn’t respect me properly, and we knew it would be a transition until living together full time starting my final year of undergraduate study. This meant our honeymoon had to wait until the summer.

I won’t forget the day he surprised me; it turned out he had been watching and learning somehow from someone. He slowly picked things up from being around during my games with friends via the Cool Girls’ Club and my occasional modeling engagements, and he played his hand perfectly on this day. It happened at the Petersen family cottage on Lake Michigan, just 45 minutes north of Milwaukee. This is a fun little story, and the best part is that it’s not a dirty story.

It was Memorial Day of 2017, and I was cooking. I never really cooked much. I grew up in the family that thought Hamburger Helper was cooking, and while I did much of that as a wife I also wanted to make real food. I learned from friends and my in-laws, and for Memorial Day I tried to make small batches of potato salad and macaroni salad. Chris and I had a good laugh.

He then went to the grocery store for potato salad and macaroni salad.

My nickname is “Gangsta Queen” because I first wore bandanas when I was 11 or so. Others in my circle slowly picked it up, but I was the “Queen” because I was the first. Yeah, I wore my icy blue bandana as a kerchief, and yes I wore one of those large 27 inch solid white bandanas (why we call them handkerchiefs, I don’t know) as a kerchief over my kerchief to protect my bandana from grease and such while I used the deep fryer to make French fries. Nevertheless, those both were on my head, because my icy blue bandana was for both fashion and practicality.

I heard a sudden noise while I was taking the last batch of potatoes out of the fryer. Unlike those salads, my French fries were a work of art. My ears perked up. Here I am, a girl wearing layers of kerchief, a navy blue t-shirt, icy blue shorts, and, in my signature style, white crew socks and black canvas sneakers, but I’m alone. What was that sound? Was it—gulp—a burglar?

“C-c-chris?” I asked, being unnecessarily edgy, “H-h-h-honey, is that you?”

I was scared, but I wasn’t a coward either. I could face my fears headlong if I could face my dad and walk out of the house rather than deal with his maltreatment. Burglars? I likely suspected it was Chris, down in my heart, because I otherwise would have called him for help instead or just run to the neighbor’s across the road because they were family friends.

“Anyone,” I walked into the bedroom, a strong hand gagged me, “GMMMMMMMMM!”
“HA HA HAAAAA! Gotcha, baby!” Chris laughed loudly and kissed me on the forehead.
“GMMMMMM!” I glared at him and squirmed out of his arms, “Jack-ss! You almost gave me a heart attack, and then you would have been a 22 year-old widower,” but I laughed harder than he.
“I know—I’m sorry, sweetie,” his laughter sure said my reaction was his wish, “It was fun!”
“You can kidnap me all you desire afterwards!” I point a finger at him, “Go grill the burgers!”
“They’ve been on the grill for 8 minutes should be almost done,” he was way ahead of me.

And I was my high school valedictorian.

Maybe I was left brain damaged by the traumas that directly led to our decision to marry? More likely, he was just more clever than me when it came to being sneaky and surreptitious. A TUG with him would be interesting, and we ate lunch without mentioning TUGs or the prank, but we talked an awful lot about the friends with whom I played (and still play) TUGs. In other words, he was scoping me for when he kidnapped me for real after lunch. I still love this man so much. As we ate dessert, TUGs came up, as if he hadn’t seen the things about which he asked, but this was different because I was telling him with my own lips. I was playing into his hands.

The moment of capture, the sweet moment of capture, arrived just after I used the restroom and had washed my hands. The sight of the large bandana on my head put me in good humour to ask Chris if I should take it off, but he was waiting for me. As I stepped out into the living room so I could ask him my question, he silently opened the closet door, grabbed me, hand gagged me, and dragged me into the closet and shut the door.

“GMMMMMM!” I was like putty in his arms, melting into my role as damsel-in-distress.
“That’s it, my dear,” he and I slowly fell to the floor of the closet, and he untied my shoelaces.
“GMMMMMM! HLLLPPPPP!” I dove into our roleplay with playfulness and happiness.
“Now, open wide. I saw the glow in your eye when you mentioned this,” he has my socks now.
“Noooooooo,” my instinct was to playfully defy him, but he pinched my nose shut, “Gmmmm!”

He took that oversized white bandana off my head, leaving my pretty icy blue kerchief behind to stay in place, folded it up, tied a knot in the middle, and used it as a knotted cleave gag, pushing my nasty, flavorful socks into my mouth. And, just think, he did all this in a dark coat closet! I was the captured Gangsta Queen, sucking on her second dessert of the day. He opened the door, and I was pushed out into the small living room, where there was better lighting.

My favorite white rope now appeared, and Chris effortlessly pulled my arms behind my back for making a crossed wrist tie, securing my arms in place and ensuring I’d cause little trouble for his playful surprise. The harness was simple, with passes above and below my breasts and cinching to hold it all together. I struggled, but escape wasn't going to happen any time soon.

Indeed, I was putty in his paws, and he moved down to my legs. I was forced to sit on one of the wooden dining chairs, and he pulled my arms over the back of the chair. He tied my ankles with the rope, and then he naturally tied my thighs. Rope ran from my wrists, around the underframe, to my ankles, and back to the underframe, tightly restricting how far I could kick my legs or jerk my arms. One last rope secured my waist to both the seat and the back of the chair.

Then came the final tough: duct tape. Chris wrapped my face in eight layers of sticky white duct tape, ensuring my silence and inability to end the silence on my own terms, and he took care to ensure he did wrap my hair in the tape. I was truly a prisoner of love, and there was nothing that I could do to stop him. I looked into his eyes and pretended to be a bashful, curious, yet fearful damsel-in-distress, squirming a lot in my bonds. He simply took pictures of me so I could share these to the CGC private Facebook group afterwards if I so desired. Of course I would!

“Mmmmmmmmm!” I grunted into the gag, unable to say anything more.
“Awww… The Gangsta Queen has been kidnapped by a strange man,” he kissed my gagged lips.
“Mmmmmm!” I leaned into it instead of pretending to resist and loved the feel of his stubble.
“Have fun, my bride. I’m going to do the dishes solo unlike our cooperation yesterday.”
“Mmm mmm mmm!” I am ordering him to untie me, not that anyone outside the room heard me.
“You just enjoy yourself, Nichole. I love seeing you so happy,” and he walked away.

I love classifying things based on different lines. Like, there are some damsels who struggle just to struggle and some who struggle to escape. There are those who like dirty sock gags for tasting something humiliating and some who like the humiliation. Some like trying to gag talk as if they were really in need of rescue, and others just like groaning to hear their own voice. This isn’t an exhaustive list of examples, but it’s a good overview. Me? You’ll just have to read and find out. Oh, another good example: those who like to immerse herself in the role and those who only are there for the TUG. Again, I’m not telling you too much. Don’t tell; show.

With a deep breath, I looked around the room and grumbled into my gag, wishing for a magical box cutter to appear in my hands. I’m one of those girls who would certainly cut her way out if the opportunity presented itself and then playfully shrug when reprimanded afterwards. Little I say comes out as anything but “Mmmmm!” or “Mmmmphh!” because of my horrid socks. This is hardly a second dessert and quite disgusting, but it checks so many boxes for me.

“Gmmmmmmmmm!” I finally made myself known while I struggled to understand my bondage.
“Are you enjoying yourself over there, my pretty damsel?” Chris taunted me from the sink.
“Gmmm hmph hmmpmph!” I said something quite naughty, but it wasn’t intelligible.
“Ah, my lovely Gangsta Queen, if you escape, you may go free,” his voice encouraged defiance.
“MMPH! MMM MMM MMMMMM!” I struggled and picked up and slammed the chair legs.
“You’re a loud one, but I hope my ropes are just right for you,” he said the most adorable things.

I struggled mightily against the ropes. It was a simple bondage, and I loved wiggling my feet as I sat there, mesmerized by how effectively he’d bound me with only six ropes. My icy blue gym shorts allowed my entire legs to be seen, which somehow made me feel more helpless than if I’d been wearing pants or a skirt. In the same way, I discovered with time that wearing my bandana as a kerchief seemed more befitting being a captive whereas headbands seemed more befitting a captor or a wife. That’s just me making more classifications though.

This was his first time playing with me like this in such private circumstances. Certainly, he had to screw up on some aspect of this, but I wondered this while also realizing that he was an Eagle Scout and thus had to be a knot professional of the highest kind even if I was his introduction to TUGs. Alas, I was a good escape artist, but artistry also requires figuring out the ways of your captor. I loved when he overpowered me, but this was in solitude as opposed to playing back at school with my friends. It was tight and restrictive, but it was delightful and comfortable.

I listened to him at the sink, his brilliance positioning me so my back was to him. I heard water and clacking dishes, both against each other and in the sink, and I decided to please him with my squirming by working to turn the chair around and face him. I got so many benefits out of doing this. First, I got the satisfaction of the struggle; second, I got to look at my beloved; third, I got a playful dig on him by showing my determination and resolved; fourth, I would get to probe into his eyes while escaping or failing, giving one of us the right to gloat depending on the result. To be able to turn the chair like this—wobbling and cracking and all—said I had the advantage.

“Mmmm mmmm mmmhmmmmmmmm!” I called out into the gag to engage him in discussion.
“Are you having fun, my beautiful Gangsta Queen?” he loved my nickname more than I did.
“Hmm hmmmm!” I giggled a little and continued struggling in the ropes in a careful quest.
“Ah, Sarah Nichole Petersen, you are such a stand-out in all things. You’re a seductress.”
“Heh,” I raised my hands while looking him in the eye, wincing at the taste of my dirty socks.
“Well, we have a winner, I see,” he winked at me, “Gangsta Queen 1-0 Scout King.”

I quietly untied the other ropes while we silently communicated our profound affections for each other. He, a devout Christian, had still married me, an agnostic who’d only recently professed a belief in the genuine existence of God, and he helped soften my heart to full belief. Now, some 8 months later, I felt God’s grace in our matrimony. For Chris’s entertainment, I left the gag in my mouth, walked over, grabbed a dishtowel, and began drying dishes and putting them away.

I gag-kissed him on the cheek. Who needs conversation when we’ve got each other?

THE END

@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, @Hywok, @Monty, @Jjdeel600, @chelseykittyc@t, @StrugglingSue, @PenelopeRopes

[tiedinbluetights]

Such a lovely story, of a loving couple. Thanks

[MrHarrison56]

Awesome story dude

[Caesar73]

Indeed a sweet little Tale - and they are indeed a lovely Couple.

[AlexUSA3]

Such a lovely story, of a loving couple. Thanks

Awesome story dude

Indeed a sweet little Tale - and they are indeed a lovely Couple.

I am glad this came across exactly as I intended. My goal was to show a cute romantic moment in a way that fit in "Stories for Everyone".

[ducttapefan]

Very nice story!

[60Cancer]

Is there any chance that we can get a story in which Chris is the victim?

[AlexUSA3]

Is there any chance that we can get a story in which Chris is the victim?

I do have an F/M story somewhere in my mind, albeit involving different characters, and I can certainly bring it to life if you'd like!