Janie & Eva, the Rabbits (F/FF)
Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2025 6:51 pm
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Janie & Eva, the Rabbits (F/FF)
Friday, June 14, 2019
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip
"Ugghh!" I groan quietly in frustration.
"Mmph!" Eva groans in equivalent frustration.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree sounds out.
Chyou! Chyou! the birds talk to me like they talked to my ancestors, Chyou!
"Ugghh!" Eva is well aware that it's just the two of us here, all alone.
"Gmmmmmm!" I let out in an attempt to communicate with nature.
I look around, or rather try in vain to look around. There's not much to see. Trees, birds, insects, wildflowers, grass, Eva, and, a little further away, the house and the RV. Unlike Eva and me, the forces of nature are all free as can be and at one with one another. Eva and I are at one with one another, but with our captor? Poppycock. This is how life goes at times.
Chyou! Chyou! the birds feel more and more like mockery with time, Chyou!
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree protests its misuse.
Shrip! the grass sounds under our feet from our small, pathetic, hop-like motions.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip, thick droplets hit the ground.
"Ugghh!" I complain while the sweat beads on my brow in the morning summertime heat.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm," Eva more quietly complains, but with an angry tone.
Of course, my ancestors were pagans, particularly nature-worshipping pagans. But me? I'm that pro-life rosary-praying Roman Catholic girl that got the other kids whispering at both church and school alike. I was the one ready with a razor-knife to quickly and skillfully cut their arguments to pieces but still sweet enough that no one took it personally or hated me afterwards. Perhaps it is the most Miccosukee or Seminole thing I could have done, in reality.
I look up at the sky, or at least look up as best as I can and roll my eyes the rest of the way. That I am trapped out here like this is ironic. My ancestors loved nature as God; then my more recent ancestors loved nature as God's expression of love. Now I am strangely part of it yet separate in an ironic way. Some Indian Princess! I've been reduced to what the colonists called a squaw! A woman who has no social status and seemingly no worth; I'm just a captive for amusement. I've lost all of my dignity, and Eva has lost hers alongside me as my friend and sister-in-law.
Chyou! Chyou! Chyou! the birds continue singing, unaware of our situation.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip, more water pours off our lips.
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree groans in response to our motions.
CRACK! a twig snaps under the careful, deliberate foot of Caleigh Rondell.
"Well, well, well, you two have likely suffered enough," she says while standing at a distance.
"Eh uth oh!" Eva says with an angry tone, immersed in the role of being a captive.
"Let you go? Ha! No!" Caleigh throws her head back and laughs, "The game's just beginning!"
"Guh," I groan as she approaches me and gently strokes my head in a patronizing manner.
Eva and I both have our wrists tied together behind our backs and lifted high into the air in these strappados formed by using the tree branch as a pulley to connect to make the rope go from our wrists, over the branch, and to our braids. Our legs are only tied at the ankles and lower thighs. Comfortable, but effective, 2 inch homemade ball gags, made from orange rubber dog balls and purple bandanas, were used for our gags. The drip is spit pouring off our lips from the ball gags; the creak was our struggles causing us to pull on the tree branch.
I should explain that I'm a Native American. My paternal grandfather—God rest his soul—was half Miccosukee, one quarter white, and one quarter African-American; my grandmother is half Seminole. I never talk about my mother because of my strained relationship with her, but she's at least half Creek and one quarter something else. I'm off topic; but I'm proud of my heritage, of being Cool Girl, and of being married to Caleigh and Eva's older brother. Such are the virtues of true friendship and Christian love, and such is why I feel welcome in Catholicism.
Now, Caleigh undoes the strappados and hair ties. Instead, she recycles the ropes for binding our elbows tightly together behind our backs. We can handle elbow ties with ease. I hop in place as a test of my bonds while Caleigh is busy with Eva, and the same is true of Eva while I'm bound. We might be groaning and struggling, but we're all having fun, captives and captor alike. We'd been this way for 15 or 20 minutes after losing a roll of the dice (literally) against Caleigh, and these strappados and ball gags were what Caleigh decided to use against us on this occasion.
Caleigh and Eva love that I'm the strong girl, the one who shattered Florida's softball slugging records and then repeated the feats in her college's softball conference. Over four years of high school and three years of undergraduate study, thrice. I led my league/conference in both triples and home runs. I see it as merely God-given talent; others see it as being a phenomenon. I never have been proud of my accomplishments except as a marker of my personal effort, and it's the same effort I apply to studying and being a wife, sister, friend, daughter, etc.
Eva is one of the few girls with whom I can competitively wrestle despite the five inch difference in our heights. She's 5'8"; yes, that means I am 6'1". I look like a mix of native tribes with such a dark skin tone, butt-length jet black hair, and chocolate brown eyes. Eva, on the other hand, is a typical Minnesota girl of French descent: long, beautiful blonde hair with natural brown streaks and blue eyes. Maybe I have a six-pack, but Eva's just as lovely or lovelier in her own fitness. I have found a friend for life in Eva even if she is also my sister-in-law.
Caleigh ties us both more thoroughly: we each get a breast harness, a rope below our waist, and a rope below our knees. These accompany the ropes at our wrists, at our ankles, above our knees, and above our elbows. It's good and tight, the way Eva and I like to be bound. With the rubber ball gags, we're in quite the situation, one and the same while retaining our unique identities to resist our captor. Perhaps the bondage is the same, but our outfits are what make us different.
You've never been bound and gagged by a Rondell sister until you've had to take your shirt off during a game as part of your captivity, sometimes having to endure everything while in nothing but your underwear. Nudity, however, is only reserved for the most intense, personal, games and only done indoors or in certainty that only other approving girls are around. We're all approving girls, but we're keeping ourselves covered even if it's not modest. We call it TV-17.
I say it's not modest because Eva and I are in our sports bras. Mine is bright red, just like the red Western paisley kerchief bandana I wear on my head, the floral emblem perfectly centered above the bridge of my nose. Yes, both Caleigh and Eva happily tell me that Western paisley better fits me, yet, ironically, Eva prefers the Western paisley and has a sage green bandana headband. She looks best in earthen tones; I look best in the brighter tones. One and two; two and one. We are sisters from another mother in spirit yet clearly not in appearance. We like to joke that Western paisley looks best on me because of my native ancestry and Eva because of her femininity, and I am happy to say that we both proudly embrace our respective stereotypes in love.
One last paragraph on outfits. I have black briefs, red socks, and red sneakers. Eva wore a milk chocolate dress she made with her own two hands. It had white flowers (like chamomile) over it, and it's got white lace at the base of the calf-length skirt. It has more lace around the neck, and it is puffy in the shoulders. Had. Caleigh took it just like she took the black jeans I was wearing at the time of capture. Eva also has sage knee socks and brown combat boots. Instead, Eva wears a brown sports bra and brown briefs with her socks and boots. We somehow both still managed to embody our respective styles: me the strong, approachable, athletic; her strong, spunky, fit. Two gym monkeys with different styles yet united hearts. Remember, I said TV-17.
"All right, my hot bunnies, we're going to play a game. You're going to hop off into the forest; I am giving five minutes. In that time, you must get into hiding. If I can't recapture you within 15 minutes, I will set off a signal and become the captive of you both, whether it is one or both," she explains her rules succinctly, "If I find one and not the other, both me and the captive become the captives of the escapee. If I find both… well, you won't want to find out what happens then."
I look at Eva and then look at the forest. Two rope bunnies have to hop into that like a couple of rabbits on the run from a hungry fox. We're at every possible disadvantage: bound, gagged, and loud in our movements. The Rondell property is large and rectangular, surrounded by chain link fencing that reduces the dangers of strangers, neighbors, and wild animals, but it's still intense. I am ready for it; Eva is ready for it; we're both ready for it; we both nod our heads in agreement.
How many girls worldwide do you imagine are consensually bound and gagged and hopping in a forest while wearing a bandana, their underwear, and their footgear? I am dead certain that we're the only people who play this strange game. It's our first time playing this particular version, but I have played enough forest games in the past 13 months. We are an interesting group!
Eva and I hop away amid the sounds of tweeting birds, a cackling hen (sorry, not sorry, Caleigh), branches cracking underfoot, chattering squirrels, our own breathing, and hopping. The orange rubber ball gags, held tightly by the purple bandanas threaded through the holes, force drooling and impede our speech. Our braids, the top of my kerchief, and even the tails of our bandanas all bob up and down as we hop, but soon Eva and I diverge and go our separate ways.
I never knew hopping could be so exhausting, but, then again. my ancestors ran barefoot through the forest… most likely but not guaranteed. I don't know too much about the historic dress of the Creek, Seminole, or Miccosukee. I do know that my sister and I stand out in the CGC because of our skin tone. It's kind of funny, but the CGC is such a loving, wonderful place that I never once even had a person act surprised when they met me. Unlike softball squads, classmates, etc.
"Ugh!" I pause a moment and twist a moment to see if escape is possible, but the bondage is tied with savage tightness. That reminds me of the term "noble savage," which is one that has always made my blood boil even when just reading about the way people applied it to my ancestors. It's savage tightness, though, and that makes it so much more fun to be hopping in the forest while in this tight bondage. Escape is hopeless, and I resume my hopping well aware my red clothing is a severe disadvantage. I can be seen from 100 feet away, but I do look so good in the color.
DUNK! Eva and I collide, and she hits the ground with a cry. She's unintelligibly yelling at me for this accident, but I know she doesn't realize what happened. The girl in the brown and sage is really, strangely, quite the hottie like this, and I awkwardly squat to help her stand up. It takes only a couple of moments, but they're costly moments that we could have spent hopping to safety. She sweetly thanks, and I suddenly realize why I'm so precious to her. I'm the only one in the family that would stop to help her even though she'd have done it for me, her sister, or her brothers. I reciprocate the kind of love she gives and never receives. That's not to say that none of her siblings love her—they love her in ways I never can because I'm just a sister-in-law—but I speak a love language that resonates with her. She thanks me with her eyes and hops away.
I resume my own hop and realize that, while I love to use the rosary to pray for others, I always, in a subconscious development, dedicate a decade to the increasingly deaf Eva. She's more than at disadvantage because she takes off her hearing aids for being a captive, so she can't hear these amazing sounds like I can. She can't hear the birds, doesn't realize she's yelling, cannot hear our captor's footsteps, or know if someone's calling out to her. Right now, she knows she's safe with Caleigh in charge of her well-being, and that's something better than ordinary sisterhood.
"EEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I hear Eva's distinctive shriek, which tells me Caleigh has already captured her, "NOO! NOO! NOOOOOO!" Way to overreact, Eva.
Now I'm left alone to escape Caleigh's sneakiness. At this point, it's only prolonging what is an inevitable reality, but trying my best now is necessary for when I inevitably get talked into doing a repeat performance, especially whenever my sister visits her two former softball teammates for several days. Eva played volleyball until that was taken from her by a major tendon rupture. It's one of those odd things. Again, Eva finds unique empathy in me, but in our personal tragedies it was Caleigh who shined brightest for both of us, an angel sent to comfort our wounded souls. It is too much to discuss in this story, too heavy. Right now, though, it's a circle of love, one which I was blessed to join through marriage to Eva and Caleigh's older brother.
I'm a firecracker in my red underwear, but I'm uniquely Janie when wearing red. My ancestors could sneak attack because their clothing camouflaged them. Yet I look best, my prettiest, when I wear something bright. Red, blue, yellow, green. Right now, though, I'm no Indian princess or Seminole Samson or Miccosukee Marauder or Creek Crusher. I'm just another innocent captive in a forest being sought by the wicked captor to be brought back to the prison camp to become an eager, voluntary damsel in distress. Still, I'm playing this game to win like a softball star should.
The hopping is exhausting, and I eventually find my fate approaching: I trip on a branch and fall against the soft earth. I turned to look around myself in the middle of one of my rabbit hops, and I missed the big, fallen branch in the middle of the path. Caleigh could have seen it even without her glasses, but I wasn't looking forward. I swear I'm not this irresponsible while driving! Now I am down on the ground and helpless, and I start scrunching towards a bush before I become too obvious for Caleigh to miss. It's my only hope now with no one to help me up like I helped Eva.
"Gmmmm!" I quietly groan while doing my best, but then I feel that unique softball pitcher grip.
"You made this too easy," Caleigh smiles while dragging me out of the bush.
"Mmmmm!" I see Eva now has a waist and crotch rope and a leash attached to her braid.
"Ugh!" I shoot harmless, loving daggers at Caleigh while she stands me up and grabs more rope.
Just like Eva, I get a waist and crotch rope for another restraint. The name of the game is TUGs, and I promised this one would remain TV-17. Caleigh is pushing right up as close to the line as she possibly can, and she attaches a leash to my braid and gives the commanding push, telling us that we are to hop back to the house. She jerks on the leashes, and Eva and I hop without asking a single question. We'll happily drool and hop in order to avoid more braid jerks!
One thing about TUGs is that defeat isn't deflating like in softball (volleyball, for Eva). Defeat is a victory in its own right if you like being the captive. Even drooling from a big orange rubber ball is fun in this context, and occasional jerks on the braid keep things intense but in the spirit of the game. Eva and I are damsels-in-distress, damsels hopping through a forest in their briefs and sports bras while wearing socks, sneakers (boots for Eva), and bandanas.
Back at the edge of the forest, Caleigh decides to be "nice" to us by making a gag exchange, the 2 inch orange rubber balls with the purple bandanas being replaced with 3 inch blue rubber balls with yellow bandanas. Yes, I said that right: 3 inch rubber ball gags from two balls intended for dogs to play fetch. Some Creek Crusher I am right now.
"Guhhhh!" I grunt, unable to produce anything resembling a word any longer.
"Uggghh!" Eva is reduced to little more than the same kinds of garbled nonsense.
Truth be told, we love it. We love having the leashes thrown over tree branches and tied so that we pull on our braids if we stand on anything but our tiptoes. Eva has the military style, but it's Caleigh who is the brilliant, sadistic dominator. But Caleigh isn't a true sadist. She's simply an intense dominator who takes no pleasure in human suffering.
Then comes a genuine moment of humanity, something that is beyond TUGs. I'm not speaking of an emotional breakthrough. I'm talking about kindness and affection that knows absolutely no bounds and genuinely desires the best for loved ones. It's that moment when I give the five snap signal, the emergency signal that tells everyone around that I have an emergency and must be untied and ungagged immediately without asking questions. Caleigh complies instantly.
"I need to pee, really badly," I chuckle a little, having no shame about my physical need.
"Haaaa haaaa haaaaaaaa!" Eva sees the humor in this, lightening an awkward moment for me.
"I could be mean and let you soil yourself, you know?" Caleigh asks me in her sassiest voice.
In some scenarios, Caleigh would keep me tied up and do all the assistance necessary so that I'd remain captive, but not today. For me, the game has ended, but the joy is only starting because I now have the opportunity to talk to you about things that can only be appreciated after a game is finished. I'm not talking about the beautiful Caleigh-Eva dynamic. I speak of something else.
Rope marks are a beautiful thing of which no parallel exists in any other sport or game. The digs in my arms, legs, and body are unmistakable. They're deep, but they're soft because of Caleigh's gentle but strong technique. The ropes almost inescapably caress instead of restrain, whereas my or Eva's binding is just as effective but much more physically intense. I run my fingers into each of the grooves in my wrists and cannot help but smile, feeling delighted by them.
I pause to adjust my kerchief, ensuring the Western paisley's floral symbol is above the bridge of my nose and that my hairline is covered. How funny it is to sit here in my underwear, socks, and sneakers. I've done it before, and I am sure I will do it again. Here, Caleigh, Eva, and I are safe from judgment from those who don't know us. For Caleigh, it's epilepsy. For Eva, it's deafness. For me, it's BPD. Nothing can exceed that kind of quiet assurance that we give each other.
While I play with the rope marks in a mindless, trancelike manner, I watch with affection as Eva is ordered to hop towards where I am sitting while still bound and gagged. Perhaps Eva and I are ordinary to those who only know us from athletics, but we're extraordinary to each other and to the blonde softball pitcher who has so kindly dominated us today.
"Ugggghhhhh!" Eva groans in resistance, tired but enjoying her bondage.
"Evangeline," I kindly unknot the bandana holding the gag in her mouth, "We love you."
"That collision in the forest was a classic moment of stupidity," she chuckles and smiles.
"It was the moment that ensured we'll never forget this adventure," I correct her kindly.
"I'm done. I wanted a PG-17 TUG today, and I got it. We'll have opportunities to crank up the intensity in future editions of this game," Eva admires her bondage with childlike wonder.
So, of course, we untie her.
THE END
Janie & Eva, the Rabbits (F/FF)
Friday, June 14, 2019
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip
"Ugghh!" I groan quietly in frustration.
"Mmph!" Eva groans in equivalent frustration.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree sounds out.
Chyou! Chyou! the birds talk to me like they talked to my ancestors, Chyou!
"Ugghh!" Eva is well aware that it's just the two of us here, all alone.
"Gmmmmmm!" I let out in an attempt to communicate with nature.
I look around, or rather try in vain to look around. There's not much to see. Trees, birds, insects, wildflowers, grass, Eva, and, a little further away, the house and the RV. Unlike Eva and me, the forces of nature are all free as can be and at one with one another. Eva and I are at one with one another, but with our captor? Poppycock. This is how life goes at times.
Chyou! Chyou! the birds feel more and more like mockery with time, Chyou!
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree protests its misuse.
Shrip! the grass sounds under our feet from our small, pathetic, hop-like motions.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip, thick droplets hit the ground.
"Ugghh!" I complain while the sweat beads on my brow in the morning summertime heat.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm," Eva more quietly complains, but with an angry tone.
Of course, my ancestors were pagans, particularly nature-worshipping pagans. But me? I'm that pro-life rosary-praying Roman Catholic girl that got the other kids whispering at both church and school alike. I was the one ready with a razor-knife to quickly and skillfully cut their arguments to pieces but still sweet enough that no one took it personally or hated me afterwards. Perhaps it is the most Miccosukee or Seminole thing I could have done, in reality.
I look up at the sky, or at least look up as best as I can and roll my eyes the rest of the way. That I am trapped out here like this is ironic. My ancestors loved nature as God; then my more recent ancestors loved nature as God's expression of love. Now I am strangely part of it yet separate in an ironic way. Some Indian Princess! I've been reduced to what the colonists called a squaw! A woman who has no social status and seemingly no worth; I'm just a captive for amusement. I've lost all of my dignity, and Eva has lost hers alongside me as my friend and sister-in-law.
Chyou! Chyou! Chyou! the birds continue singing, unaware of our situation.
Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip……… Drip, more water pours off our lips.
CRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAKKKKKK! the tree groans in response to our motions.
CRACK! a twig snaps under the careful, deliberate foot of Caleigh Rondell.
"Well, well, well, you two have likely suffered enough," she says while standing at a distance.
"Eh uth oh!" Eva says with an angry tone, immersed in the role of being a captive.
"Let you go? Ha! No!" Caleigh throws her head back and laughs, "The game's just beginning!"
"Guh," I groan as she approaches me and gently strokes my head in a patronizing manner.
Eva and I both have our wrists tied together behind our backs and lifted high into the air in these strappados formed by using the tree branch as a pulley to connect to make the rope go from our wrists, over the branch, and to our braids. Our legs are only tied at the ankles and lower thighs. Comfortable, but effective, 2 inch homemade ball gags, made from orange rubber dog balls and purple bandanas, were used for our gags. The drip is spit pouring off our lips from the ball gags; the creak was our struggles causing us to pull on the tree branch.
I should explain that I'm a Native American. My paternal grandfather—God rest his soul—was half Miccosukee, one quarter white, and one quarter African-American; my grandmother is half Seminole. I never talk about my mother because of my strained relationship with her, but she's at least half Creek and one quarter something else. I'm off topic; but I'm proud of my heritage, of being Cool Girl, and of being married to Caleigh and Eva's older brother. Such are the virtues of true friendship and Christian love, and such is why I feel welcome in Catholicism.
Now, Caleigh undoes the strappados and hair ties. Instead, she recycles the ropes for binding our elbows tightly together behind our backs. We can handle elbow ties with ease. I hop in place as a test of my bonds while Caleigh is busy with Eva, and the same is true of Eva while I'm bound. We might be groaning and struggling, but we're all having fun, captives and captor alike. We'd been this way for 15 or 20 minutes after losing a roll of the dice (literally) against Caleigh, and these strappados and ball gags were what Caleigh decided to use against us on this occasion.
Caleigh and Eva love that I'm the strong girl, the one who shattered Florida's softball slugging records and then repeated the feats in her college's softball conference. Over four years of high school and three years of undergraduate study, thrice. I led my league/conference in both triples and home runs. I see it as merely God-given talent; others see it as being a phenomenon. I never have been proud of my accomplishments except as a marker of my personal effort, and it's the same effort I apply to studying and being a wife, sister, friend, daughter, etc.
Eva is one of the few girls with whom I can competitively wrestle despite the five inch difference in our heights. She's 5'8"; yes, that means I am 6'1". I look like a mix of native tribes with such a dark skin tone, butt-length jet black hair, and chocolate brown eyes. Eva, on the other hand, is a typical Minnesota girl of French descent: long, beautiful blonde hair with natural brown streaks and blue eyes. Maybe I have a six-pack, but Eva's just as lovely or lovelier in her own fitness. I have found a friend for life in Eva even if she is also my sister-in-law.
Caleigh ties us both more thoroughly: we each get a breast harness, a rope below our waist, and a rope below our knees. These accompany the ropes at our wrists, at our ankles, above our knees, and above our elbows. It's good and tight, the way Eva and I like to be bound. With the rubber ball gags, we're in quite the situation, one and the same while retaining our unique identities to resist our captor. Perhaps the bondage is the same, but our outfits are what make us different.
You've never been bound and gagged by a Rondell sister until you've had to take your shirt off during a game as part of your captivity, sometimes having to endure everything while in nothing but your underwear. Nudity, however, is only reserved for the most intense, personal, games and only done indoors or in certainty that only other approving girls are around. We're all approving girls, but we're keeping ourselves covered even if it's not modest. We call it TV-17.
I say it's not modest because Eva and I are in our sports bras. Mine is bright red, just like the red Western paisley kerchief bandana I wear on my head, the floral emblem perfectly centered above the bridge of my nose. Yes, both Caleigh and Eva happily tell me that Western paisley better fits me, yet, ironically, Eva prefers the Western paisley and has a sage green bandana headband. She looks best in earthen tones; I look best in the brighter tones. One and two; two and one. We are sisters from another mother in spirit yet clearly not in appearance. We like to joke that Western paisley looks best on me because of my native ancestry and Eva because of her femininity, and I am happy to say that we both proudly embrace our respective stereotypes in love.
One last paragraph on outfits. I have black briefs, red socks, and red sneakers. Eva wore a milk chocolate dress she made with her own two hands. It had white flowers (like chamomile) over it, and it's got white lace at the base of the calf-length skirt. It has more lace around the neck, and it is puffy in the shoulders. Had. Caleigh took it just like she took the black jeans I was wearing at the time of capture. Eva also has sage knee socks and brown combat boots. Instead, Eva wears a brown sports bra and brown briefs with her socks and boots. We somehow both still managed to embody our respective styles: me the strong, approachable, athletic; her strong, spunky, fit. Two gym monkeys with different styles yet united hearts. Remember, I said TV-17.
"All right, my hot bunnies, we're going to play a game. You're going to hop off into the forest; I am giving five minutes. In that time, you must get into hiding. If I can't recapture you within 15 minutes, I will set off a signal and become the captive of you both, whether it is one or both," she explains her rules succinctly, "If I find one and not the other, both me and the captive become the captives of the escapee. If I find both… well, you won't want to find out what happens then."
I look at Eva and then look at the forest. Two rope bunnies have to hop into that like a couple of rabbits on the run from a hungry fox. We're at every possible disadvantage: bound, gagged, and loud in our movements. The Rondell property is large and rectangular, surrounded by chain link fencing that reduces the dangers of strangers, neighbors, and wild animals, but it's still intense. I am ready for it; Eva is ready for it; we're both ready for it; we both nod our heads in agreement.
How many girls worldwide do you imagine are consensually bound and gagged and hopping in a forest while wearing a bandana, their underwear, and their footgear? I am dead certain that we're the only people who play this strange game. It's our first time playing this particular version, but I have played enough forest games in the past 13 months. We are an interesting group!
Eva and I hop away amid the sounds of tweeting birds, a cackling hen (sorry, not sorry, Caleigh), branches cracking underfoot, chattering squirrels, our own breathing, and hopping. The orange rubber ball gags, held tightly by the purple bandanas threaded through the holes, force drooling and impede our speech. Our braids, the top of my kerchief, and even the tails of our bandanas all bob up and down as we hop, but soon Eva and I diverge and go our separate ways.
I never knew hopping could be so exhausting, but, then again. my ancestors ran barefoot through the forest… most likely but not guaranteed. I don't know too much about the historic dress of the Creek, Seminole, or Miccosukee. I do know that my sister and I stand out in the CGC because of our skin tone. It's kind of funny, but the CGC is such a loving, wonderful place that I never once even had a person act surprised when they met me. Unlike softball squads, classmates, etc.
"Ugh!" I pause a moment and twist a moment to see if escape is possible, but the bondage is tied with savage tightness. That reminds me of the term "noble savage," which is one that has always made my blood boil even when just reading about the way people applied it to my ancestors. It's savage tightness, though, and that makes it so much more fun to be hopping in the forest while in this tight bondage. Escape is hopeless, and I resume my hopping well aware my red clothing is a severe disadvantage. I can be seen from 100 feet away, but I do look so good in the color.
DUNK! Eva and I collide, and she hits the ground with a cry. She's unintelligibly yelling at me for this accident, but I know she doesn't realize what happened. The girl in the brown and sage is really, strangely, quite the hottie like this, and I awkwardly squat to help her stand up. It takes only a couple of moments, but they're costly moments that we could have spent hopping to safety. She sweetly thanks, and I suddenly realize why I'm so precious to her. I'm the only one in the family that would stop to help her even though she'd have done it for me, her sister, or her brothers. I reciprocate the kind of love she gives and never receives. That's not to say that none of her siblings love her—they love her in ways I never can because I'm just a sister-in-law—but I speak a love language that resonates with her. She thanks me with her eyes and hops away.
I resume my own hop and realize that, while I love to use the rosary to pray for others, I always, in a subconscious development, dedicate a decade to the increasingly deaf Eva. She's more than at disadvantage because she takes off her hearing aids for being a captive, so she can't hear these amazing sounds like I can. She can't hear the birds, doesn't realize she's yelling, cannot hear our captor's footsteps, or know if someone's calling out to her. Right now, she knows she's safe with Caleigh in charge of her well-being, and that's something better than ordinary sisterhood.
"EEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I hear Eva's distinctive shriek, which tells me Caleigh has already captured her, "NOO! NOO! NOOOOOO!" Way to overreact, Eva.
Now I'm left alone to escape Caleigh's sneakiness. At this point, it's only prolonging what is an inevitable reality, but trying my best now is necessary for when I inevitably get talked into doing a repeat performance, especially whenever my sister visits her two former softball teammates for several days. Eva played volleyball until that was taken from her by a major tendon rupture. It's one of those odd things. Again, Eva finds unique empathy in me, but in our personal tragedies it was Caleigh who shined brightest for both of us, an angel sent to comfort our wounded souls. It is too much to discuss in this story, too heavy. Right now, though, it's a circle of love, one which I was blessed to join through marriage to Eva and Caleigh's older brother.
I'm a firecracker in my red underwear, but I'm uniquely Janie when wearing red. My ancestors could sneak attack because their clothing camouflaged them. Yet I look best, my prettiest, when I wear something bright. Red, blue, yellow, green. Right now, though, I'm no Indian princess or Seminole Samson or Miccosukee Marauder or Creek Crusher. I'm just another innocent captive in a forest being sought by the wicked captor to be brought back to the prison camp to become an eager, voluntary damsel in distress. Still, I'm playing this game to win like a softball star should.
The hopping is exhausting, and I eventually find my fate approaching: I trip on a branch and fall against the soft earth. I turned to look around myself in the middle of one of my rabbit hops, and I missed the big, fallen branch in the middle of the path. Caleigh could have seen it even without her glasses, but I wasn't looking forward. I swear I'm not this irresponsible while driving! Now I am down on the ground and helpless, and I start scrunching towards a bush before I become too obvious for Caleigh to miss. It's my only hope now with no one to help me up like I helped Eva.
"Gmmmm!" I quietly groan while doing my best, but then I feel that unique softball pitcher grip.
"You made this too easy," Caleigh smiles while dragging me out of the bush.
"Mmmmm!" I see Eva now has a waist and crotch rope and a leash attached to her braid.
"Ugh!" I shoot harmless, loving daggers at Caleigh while she stands me up and grabs more rope.
Just like Eva, I get a waist and crotch rope for another restraint. The name of the game is TUGs, and I promised this one would remain TV-17. Caleigh is pushing right up as close to the line as she possibly can, and she attaches a leash to my braid and gives the commanding push, telling us that we are to hop back to the house. She jerks on the leashes, and Eva and I hop without asking a single question. We'll happily drool and hop in order to avoid more braid jerks!
One thing about TUGs is that defeat isn't deflating like in softball (volleyball, for Eva). Defeat is a victory in its own right if you like being the captive. Even drooling from a big orange rubber ball is fun in this context, and occasional jerks on the braid keep things intense but in the spirit of the game. Eva and I are damsels-in-distress, damsels hopping through a forest in their briefs and sports bras while wearing socks, sneakers (boots for Eva), and bandanas.
Back at the edge of the forest, Caleigh decides to be "nice" to us by making a gag exchange, the 2 inch orange rubber balls with the purple bandanas being replaced with 3 inch blue rubber balls with yellow bandanas. Yes, I said that right: 3 inch rubber ball gags from two balls intended for dogs to play fetch. Some Creek Crusher I am right now.
"Guhhhh!" I grunt, unable to produce anything resembling a word any longer.
"Uggghh!" Eva is reduced to little more than the same kinds of garbled nonsense.
Truth be told, we love it. We love having the leashes thrown over tree branches and tied so that we pull on our braids if we stand on anything but our tiptoes. Eva has the military style, but it's Caleigh who is the brilliant, sadistic dominator. But Caleigh isn't a true sadist. She's simply an intense dominator who takes no pleasure in human suffering.
Then comes a genuine moment of humanity, something that is beyond TUGs. I'm not speaking of an emotional breakthrough. I'm talking about kindness and affection that knows absolutely no bounds and genuinely desires the best for loved ones. It's that moment when I give the five snap signal, the emergency signal that tells everyone around that I have an emergency and must be untied and ungagged immediately without asking questions. Caleigh complies instantly.
"I need to pee, really badly," I chuckle a little, having no shame about my physical need.
"Haaaa haaaa haaaaaaaa!" Eva sees the humor in this, lightening an awkward moment for me.
"I could be mean and let you soil yourself, you know?" Caleigh asks me in her sassiest voice.
In some scenarios, Caleigh would keep me tied up and do all the assistance necessary so that I'd remain captive, but not today. For me, the game has ended, but the joy is only starting because I now have the opportunity to talk to you about things that can only be appreciated after a game is finished. I'm not talking about the beautiful Caleigh-Eva dynamic. I speak of something else.
Rope marks are a beautiful thing of which no parallel exists in any other sport or game. The digs in my arms, legs, and body are unmistakable. They're deep, but they're soft because of Caleigh's gentle but strong technique. The ropes almost inescapably caress instead of restrain, whereas my or Eva's binding is just as effective but much more physically intense. I run my fingers into each of the grooves in my wrists and cannot help but smile, feeling delighted by them.
I pause to adjust my kerchief, ensuring the Western paisley's floral symbol is above the bridge of my nose and that my hairline is covered. How funny it is to sit here in my underwear, socks, and sneakers. I've done it before, and I am sure I will do it again. Here, Caleigh, Eva, and I are safe from judgment from those who don't know us. For Caleigh, it's epilepsy. For Eva, it's deafness. For me, it's BPD. Nothing can exceed that kind of quiet assurance that we give each other.
While I play with the rope marks in a mindless, trancelike manner, I watch with affection as Eva is ordered to hop towards where I am sitting while still bound and gagged. Perhaps Eva and I are ordinary to those who only know us from athletics, but we're extraordinary to each other and to the blonde softball pitcher who has so kindly dominated us today.
"Ugggghhhhh!" Eva groans in resistance, tired but enjoying her bondage.
"Evangeline," I kindly unknot the bandana holding the gag in her mouth, "We love you."
"That collision in the forest was a classic moment of stupidity," she chuckles and smiles.
"It was the moment that ensured we'll never forget this adventure," I correct her kindly.
"I'm done. I wanted a PG-17 TUG today, and I got it. We'll have opportunities to crank up the intensity in future editions of this game," Eva admires her bondage with childlike wonder.
So, of course, we untie her.
THE END