Wednesday, November 27, 2019
"Well, Joy, they look absolutely beautiful," I remarked to my second cousin Joy Samantha.
"Thank you, Joy," she responded to me, "We did a fine job, once again. Joy?"
"Certainly, Joy" my first cousin, Joy Alexandra gently shook a pie again to be sure it was done.
"Sue, they will be absolutely delicious," Sam studied the pies longingly.
"Sam, you are so positively inspiring," Alexandra giggled, admiring Sam's outfit.
"Better than a gangster wannabe like you," I quipped and poked a finger into her ribs.
So much joy abounded in that kitchen at times that our respective sisters couldn't stomach it for long and had to leave us three to cook in peace. Imagine how much crazier life became after we discovered that all of us played bondage games with our respective sisters and parents! We'd been a scourge on our family, including extended relations, with our toxifying happiness as long as we could remember, and bondage games only made things more adventurous because of our manyfold similarities and our seamless ability to work in perfect unison despite our differences. In naming each of those 1996 babies "Joy," our mothers had created an unstoppable machine of love that truly lived up to its first names. At home, each of us was Joy, but when two or more of us got together the middle names became a necessary means of survival.
The Three Joy's of Thanksgiving stood admiring their creations just for a minute. We imagined our respective loved ones eating the pie—I with crossed arms, Alex leaning on the counter with her chin in her hands, and Sam with her hands clasped behind her. Three blonde haired and blue eyed girls enjoyed being the bearers of happiness during the holiday season, and we appreciated our private teamwork because it gave us time to grow closer to one another. We were alike in so many ways, but besides the similar hair and eyes we actually were quite different.
Let's start with Joy Alexandra, the basketball player born on Christmas. Standing at 5' 9", Alex was thin enough that she wasn't the strongest of us all, but she literally wore her collegiate spirit with her orange long-sleeve t-shirt with the big blue "I" on it, looking like Henry Blake from the TV show M*A*S*H* but reversed. The orange bandana headband matched her shirt in color in a decent attempt at looking seasonal in her outfit, and the navy blue sweats and matching canvas shoes helped round out her outfit and make her look like the girl we all loved so much.
Surprisingly, I was the strongest Joy because of my stronger frame, and being 15 pounds heavier than my ideal probably helped me even if just a little bit despite being only 5' 3". My sage green kerchief bandana carried a complicated symbolism as a sign of my spiritual commitments and an emblem of my proud Cool Girls' Club membership. My brown ankle skirt and my burnt orange turtleneck t-shirt at least worked to create a good Thanksgiving theme.
Joy Samantha was always the prettiest of us girls with her simple timeless fashion that typically had a statement piece. Sam never wore bandanas unless it seemed perfect for the occasion, like when it meant the three Joy's had themed outfits (Christmas stories!). Instead, she wore a forest green skirt with autumn leaves all over it, burnt orange tights, and a dark green turtleneck t-shirt to put her own fingerprint on an autumnal outfit.
It was just the three of us down here in the basement with Alexandra's mother, Aunt Melissa, just upstairs above us with Alexandra's sisters, Erika and Brooke. This was a simple occasion for the three of us, and Aunt Melissa quietly came down the stairs to engage us on the ground that had, over the years, become the unofficial playground for us Joy's, our sisters, and our mothers. The smile on Aunt Melissa's face gave me confidence that something fun was about to happen.
"Girls, if you're done, I thought we could have fun," Aunt Melissa said warmly, "I tie up my dear little girl here, and then you two tie me up alongside her however you'd like."
"Heck, yeah, Mom!" Alex jumped ebulliently, "Your little girl's ready to go down in style!"
"Sit down on this chair," the proud mother ordered her child, "and then we—"
"Oh, Aunt Melissa," Sam kindly interrupted her, "Suzanne, get the bench. I have an idea."
Aunt Melissa is quiet and humble, in sharp contrast to her youth when she would fearlessly start an argument with anyone, especially my mother and Sam's mother. All of us could see the stars in her eyes, which meant that a story was likely going to be told and that this game was a ruse to get us all in one place while we heard about the TUGs of her own youth. I love my mother, but her style of story is one with a surprise twist; Sam's mother is good for stories about using TUGs to antagonize one another; but Alex's mother was the best at telling happy stories.
This was the future for me for sure. Aunt Melissa is a little taller than me, but she has that same figure that's just desperate to accumulate cellulose around the belly. Unlike me, she has it under control and is in the middle of the average weight zone after years of effort. Classic blue denim was showcased in her ankle skirt and the jacket she had just removed. A black turtleneck t-shirt and matching crew socks gave her a pretty feminine look. Ironically, she had both brown hair and brown eyes despite Alex, and in fact none of her daughters, having brown eyes!
"Seeing you three together making pumpkin pie reminds me of my first college Thanksgiving…"
Like I said, it was story time! Aunt Melissa and Alex were seated back-to-back on the bench for Sam to take care of business in binding and gagging them with me as her assistant. Well, we did not want to gag Auntie when she was telling us a story! I didn't hesitate to use a homemade blue rubber ball gag to stop Alex from squawking, and I knotted the white bandana tightly because I didn't want her spitting that ball out anytime soon and only gave my best to my fellow Joy.
We seated mother and daughter tightly against each other with Alex towering over her mother for their joint captivity. I bound Alex while Sam bound Auntie, and working like this we roped their legs in a few places and then also secured their legs to the bench. Alexandra giggled a little for a quiet confirmation of her approval of what was happening to her while Auntie smiled. Soon, we were hearing a brief tale of youth from a loved one's lips, and I will italicize her words.
Your mothers and I were quite impish young ladies. Cousin Darlene (Joy Samantha's mother) could be so freaking crotchety at times, and it was because of her bad attitude that she had worn socks stuffed into her mouth for the first time. She was only 12 then, but how Sue (Joy Suzanne's mother) laughed when she did it! The look on her face was so precious, but I'm losing the story I wanted to tell. That same face showed up because Darlene was permanently on her period from when she was 14 until she was like 23 or something. Thanksgiving 1985 was unforgettable.
That year, I wanted to make my first ever pumpkin pie on my own. I wanted to make the crust and the pie and do it all by myself, and I came from Iowa State with a massive smile on my face on that Wednesday morning because we had driven through the night to get home for the day. I got to work right away, and those pies were perfect even if they weren't as pretty as Grandma's or Mom's. The center was the right doneness, and Sue cheered me on. Then Darlene arrived.
"Wow, Missy, you made one hell of a mess," Darlene criticized the mess in the kitchen.
"Well, if it bothers you that much," I responded, knowing Mom and Sun were going to use the rest of my crust to make the apple pies, "Why don't you put up or shut up?"
"I'm not cleaning up this mess. I didn't make it," she naturally responded, but that did it.
"I think I'll make you shut up then, you prissy stuck-up stick. C'mon," I took her by the arm.
"Ohhhhh," I interrupted the story, "Let me guess. You were wearing your black bandana?"
"That's tight girls," Aunt Melissa admired her wrists bound together in front of her, "Yes, I was. Good catch. Yes, I liked the bold, dark ones for baking because the flour showed up on them."
"Mom's always told me that you weren't to be tested then!" Samantha giggled.
"Where was I. Oh, right, I grabbed Darlene by the arm and told her, 'To the bedroom!'"
Our parents found it funny the way we girls never gave up the rope games, but you had to grab a p0rno magazine to know bondage even existed back then. We'd shagged a couple in college just to get ideas for tying up one another, but mostly we experimented. Oh, you know this already! I need to stop preaching to the choir here. There I was pulling that stick into the bedroom.
"Get on that bed on your stomach, and make it snappy!" I ordered her without any fear.
"You think you can boss me around like this?!" Darlene challenged me, but I wrestled her down.
Darlene being taller didn't make her stronger. Alex here is built a lot like Darlene, and you three even have the same eyes. Dar was a weakling, though, and still is one who relies on intimidation to get compliance out of someone. Gosh, she's a lot sweeter now since motherhood forced her to mellow a lot, but she was snarling and snapping. I just took that rope—black like my bandana, the same black rope you're using on me and Alex right now—and took her down like she was an 11 year-old getting it from her older brother again. Sometimes, when you're in the right mood to be mischievous, it makes kidnapping that loud-mouthed cousin a lot easier. Without effort, I tied her wrists and elbows together behind her back, laid her on her stomach on my bed, and spread her legs and tied them to the footboard. That got her snarling up a storm, but Sue was ready.
"Missy, let me out of this!" she snapped, "You are a sneaky MMMMPH!"
"I told you that I was going to shut you up!" I laughed, pushing Sue's socks into her mouth.
Back then, we used plenty of medical bandages for wrapped gags because they could be reused and could be made as tight or loose as we wished them to be. I wrapped one of those around an increasingly irritable Darlene's head. Oh, girls, you know what I did to her next.
"I hope you spanked her!" Samantha interjected without thinking twice, "And many times, too!"
"Mmmmm hmmm!" Alexandra agreed, drool already dribbling off her homemade ball gag.
"Especially using a spoon or a paddle because I can't imagine her being that mean," I added.
"Calm down," Aunt Melissa laughed, carefully studying the double harness and waist-and-crotch rope that held her and her child together, "Yes, yes, I took a wooden spoon out…"
Darlene deserved every bit of that spanking in the TUGgish, cousin sense for being so totally insufferable beyond all belief. She was 20 years old, which made 20 spanks a fair number for a loud-mouth like Darlene. Oh, even if she howled into Susan's socks like it was a scene fresh out of Let's Go Play at the Adams'. Sue and I tolerated such gags, but Darlene loves them to this day, as you ladies are well aware. I looked right into her eyes and damned her on the spot.
"No wonder you didn't fight me! You came in here and antagonized me so I'd do this to you!"
"Gmmmm mmmm mmmm!" she rolled her eyes me, admitting that it was 100% true!
"There's your brief Thanksgiving story with Aunt Melissa!" Auntie ended the story
"Wow, Auntie! I guess Mom wasn't always the woman of mystery," Samantha laughed.
"No, she wasn't," Aunt Melissa nodded her head, "Oh, she could be a pill!"
"Is that so?!" a familiar voice broke the silence, and we all turned around as we were able.
And Aunt Darlene was standing there with her hands on her hips and a naughty look on her face.
The end
