Tough Lessons in Safety (various/F) - Part 2

[AlexUSA3]

Safety in bondage/TUGs just isn't discussed enough. Well, Janie and her friends and family are going to have some adventures followed by some lessons on the dangers of the way they're playing their games.

Tough Lessons in Safety
Part 1: Boxed and Abandoned (MF/F)
Monday, October 09, 2023

Being a Cool Girl means being willing to try cool things. Being a Rondell means being willing to try wild things. Both of those "things" involve TUGs, and with the Rondell family part of the experience you are never certain what will happen to you. I've been forced to go hide in a forest while bound and gagged in nothing but my underwear; I've been shut in a suitcase by Caleigh so Ken would have to free me when he got home but only after getting the key on a promise that we would try to make a baby before he untied me. Caleigh is a total voyeurist, which is a battle that I will not attempt to explain in these pages, but I might try in another story. I've been suspended in an upside-down hogtie, from a tree, while buck naked, and I've been a human burrito. There's no such thing as a dull moment when you're playing TUGs with Eva and Caleigh Rondell.

I had dressed so pretty for the day, I thought. I kind of had a mix of Eva vibes with my own take on the style. My blue sneakers were a favorite; I always have blue sneakers around. White knee socks under my blue ankle skirt, blue briefs, blue sports bra, white t-shirt, and a split-color white and blue bandana as a kerchief to hold my hair back. My butt-length black hair was cherished in a braid held by blue and white scrunchies. Yes, I love dichromatic outfits more than anything.

There's Caleigh Rondell, the rope artist, the Princess of Chaos. She looks so innocent with just a pair of black short shorts, so short that they can't be seen underneath the oversized red sweatshirt she is wearing, and she has red ankle socks and pink sneakers with it. Her blonde hair is always as free as can be: she hates all headgear except for ball caps. She was bubbly and happy. She is on summer vacation from graduate school, and she came to help us both with work and child. I couldn't ask for a better aunt to my and Ken's infant son, at the time just 3 months old.

Then there's Eva Rondell, the brute of brutes, the Queen of Chaos. Her role in this story has not been reached yet. Let's move to Ken, my husband, Caleigh and Eva's big brother, who is likely the Clown Prince of Chaos. This simple figure with blue jeans and a black polo might look like a Bob Villa type, but he's actually quite the kidnapper in his own right. Yes, I said kidnapper.

Nothing like stepping out of the restroom just after 3PM—and you work 8 AM to 5 PM with one hour for lunch, in classic fashion, and getting grabbed by your husband with a tight grip. A hand went over the mouth to gag me, and the left arm wrapped my chest and fondled my right boob. I couldn't ask for a better surprise, really. But Ken's 6'3"; I was screwed even if I'm 6'1". With a laugh, Ken dragged me into the office, shoved me away, and shut the door. I was trapped.

"Off with the skirt and blouse. On the double," the look in his eyes told me I was safe to play.
"And if I don't?" I asked him in a defiant tone and a twinkle in my brown eyes.
"Then the Indian Princess gets severely punished," he motioned as if spanking me already.
"What if the Indian Princess first allowed you to please herself with you?" I played hardball.
"In exchange for her resistance and having to be more forcibly bound and gagged?" he asked.
"I see you getting an erection at the thought," I taunted him, "I'm not submissive today!"

I should have played nice, I suppose, because Ken totally owned me, plain and simple. He was in the right mood for absolute domination, which was a rarity, and he gave it everything so that it was the unfair advantage of simply being a man. Masculinity has uses, like easily overpowering a big tall strong Native American girl who was such a softball star she represented Team USA in Japan in 2018's world championships. But Ken used the brown rope and completely torqued my arms with tight, wonderful elbow and wrist bonds to pin them behind my back. I mentioned one of the rubber dog ball gags in the last adventure, but here Ken decided to go all the way and use a 3 inch orange ball threaded with a green bandana to gag me, knotting it effectively.

"GMMMM!" I was already panting from exhaustion, but I was loving the total domination even if I still had my shirt on me. It's so different from those "consensual nonconsensual" games that my sister plays with her husband. Those are her basically fantasizing being kidnapped, bound, gagged, and unwillingly used. Here, it was just the wife playing "hard to get," which was very different in so many ways. I was already helpless, but I was safe and never felt misused.

"Wait until you go in the crate," he said to me, knowing he was distracting me from the moment.

I don't describe sexual actions, and I still won't here. Just know that Ken soon had my ankles in a tight bond and my skirt folded up neatly on the chair. Shortly after that, we "made babies" in a dirty manner, with me snarling at him through the 3 inch ball gag and drooling all over the place the entire time. It was so much fun, and I chastised him for treating me as a squaw instead of as a wife. Yes, yes, yes, I am very proud of my varied tribal heritage. Ken is so thoughtful that he always makes sure that I reach pleasure from the deed before he pleases himself though.

"Well, it sure sounded like you two were having fun," Caleigh giggled as she opened the door.
"You twisted little freak!" Ken said in an absolute failure of an attempt to imitate Eva's voice.
"Ha! C'mon, Ken, just because I enjoy the sounds doesn't mean I enjoyed them like you two just did! Get moving! Tie her up! I have a parting present for her and a burrito wrap to boot!"
"Well, well, Caleigh," Ken wrapped his sister in a one-armed hug, "I love you, sis. I want you to know something. I know you have the hots for Janie and in general are attracted to girls."
"What?! Ken! How observant!" she laughed it off, "Used to have the hots for Janie. I am quite touched that you figured it out on your own. Most guys don't pay enough attention to sisters to be aware of such things. Now, my dear big brother, tie up that girl! Get moving! Shoo!"
"Janie likes to say that God wanted her to be your sister-in-law as much as my wife. I see why."
"Thank you, Ken. And thank you for not letting my kinks or sexuality change your love for me."

Then Ken torqued my legs like my arms. Yikes. He tied my legs in five more places in addition to the ankle bonds: shins, below the knees, above the knees, mid thighs, and upper thighs. There was no hope of escape, and he tied a secure harness to pin my arms further and to accentuate my beautiful form after baring my boobs. A waist-and-crotch rope followed, also pinning my arms and providing wonderful irritation for my crotch. I was in the proper mood to use that rope for a "solo orgy," as some of my friends like to call it. Can you feel the happiness in the air?

Or hoppiness.

"Make her hop to her burrito wrapping," Caleigh said, holding a huge purple bandana to use for a gag—it was definitely a 27 inch bandana instead of 22 inches—and cackled, "And her coffin."
"GMMMM!" I groaned while my shoes clomped with each hop. How humiliating yet awesome it was to have my skirt stolen and have my boobs exposed while still in my socks and sneakers!

I hopped and clomped on the floor in my embarrassing position. Humiliation might top my own list of kinks, though, especially when playing with my sisters-in-law. And right then I was quite a mess with slobber flowing from the 3 inches of hard orange rubber that gagged me. However, I'd been captured by a strong man and his clever sister, and I noticed that Caleigh had tied a knot in the center of the bandana that seemed bigger than normal for a knotted cleave gag. Whenever I took too long to hop, one of them would spank me or fondled me. Finally, we arrived with me a sweating mess and breathing heavily from the combination of excitement and exhaustion. Out of my mouth came the big rubber ball finally with the unknotting of the green bandana.

"Ugh!" I said, hopping in place, "What's up with that bandana?"
"Oh, it's just a big one," she looked at her feet… which no longer had socks on them, "Just big."
"Bad Caleimmmph!" my speech ended at that, and I was forced to sit after she'd knotted the gag.
"There, there, soon you will be silent," she held up a roll of blue duct tape to match my outfit.
"Gmmmmm!" I said, after 8 wraps that were so tight they changed the landscape of my cheeks.
"And soon you will be a sexy burrito inside a coffin!" she showed the red sheet that was ready.

Caleigh isn't a risk taker and is a dominator. That's why she wrapped my thighs, legs, and belly in more blue duct tape. She wrapped them completely: ankles to knees, knees to waist, and waist to boobs. As if the rope bondage wasn't sufficient already. I was a big taco getting stuffed inside a burrito by a girl whose favorite part of Tex-Mex cuisine was the tortillas. The harsh reality for me is I am Black, Creek, Irish, Miccosukee, Seminole, and Spanish. Neither Tex nor Mex. She furthered the taco effect by pulling off my sneakers and my socks and wrapping my arches with more of the blue tape. A taco inside a burrito inside a coffin. Sounds yummy but also dead. As if this all wasn't sufficient, when she wrapped the tape gag she made sure to trap my braid, too.

"Gmmmmmm!" I groaned when Caleigh pulled one of Eva's homemade bondage hoods over my head, and before she snapped it shut around my neck she made sure that my socks were against my nose so that I'd (eventually) taste her socks while smelling my own. I felt her and Ken work in unison to lay me on the sheet, and it was time for the blue and white taco to become a burrito.

My braid is precious to me. I'm not diving into it in this story, but there's trauma behind my hair and why it reaches my butt even while braided. I loved my hair long before I was old enough to be truly cognizant of my tribal heritage. My siblings and I were, oddly enough, the ones getting all the funny stares because we obviously looked different from everyone else. There were many Asians, African-American, and Hispanic kids in school, but my siblings and I were the only ones who were Native American. It meant nothing to me until I was maybe 12-14 years old, but long before that I loved my hair. When the trauma happened, my braid became my way of hiding my hair in a way that was still beautiful to me while looking merely practical to others.

"She is such a sexy burrito," Caleigh giggled and fondled my boobs, "Boooooobbbbbbieesssss!"
"Gmmm mmm mmmmmmmmmm!" I yelled out to be an absolutely sexy, helpless drama queen.
"She complains too much for a girl who lost her skirt," Ken says, completely taunting me.
"GMM HMMMMM!" I just know it's a matter of time before my saliva soaks through the big 27 inch square purple bandana and begins to afflict my tongue with the taste of Caleigh's socks, and I only make a fuss because her socks are possibly the most rancid socks I've tasted from 2 dozen individual's socks over my 15 years of playing TUGs with friends, family, and in-laws.
"You really need to think of her needs, bro," Caleigh sweetly jerked on my crotch rope.
"Hank oo!" I reacted for what I am sure was merely the first of many times in this adventure.

I was centered on the edge of the red sheet, and the extra above my head and below my feet was folded over my body before I began to be tightly wrapped. It was a thrift store find, as all sheets used for Rondell-style mummifications are. I know Caleigh loves mummifying her cousin more than anyone else, even me or Eva, but that is because that cousin loves being mummified most of all of us. Yes, there are many stories involving the cousin, too. It's a crazy Rondell world.

When the wrapping was done, more tape (I am sure blue) sealed things shut around my ankles, lower thighs, waist, lower and upper chest (so that my bust still looked perky), and neck (don't worry; it wasn't constricting). They picked me up and laid me inside the wooden crate, and the lid was placed on top of the box. One by one, each of the clasps shut until all were closed. Now I was completely trapped with absolutely no chance of escape. SO. AWESOME.

"Gmmmmm," I quietly groaned when that moment hit… The taste of Caleigh's feet, "BLUGH!"
"Ha ha! Your feet have struck, my sweet little sister," Ken taunted us both in one zinger.
"I love it! We'll leave your hot buxom wife for Eva to come retrieve after we've left."
"Ah ha! That's why you prepared that gag the way you did!" he admired her cleverness.
"I might have blonde moments, but I'm not a complete dufus," Caleigh picked on herself, too!
"Ugh!" just because I was a hooded burrito-wrapped taco stuffed in a coffin didn't mean I was immune to bad jokes and self-deprecating humor, "Gmm mmmm mm! Mmm mm mmm?"

I have no idea what I asked, but I wanted them to wonder what the captive Native American hot buxom wife was asking from inside the wooden crypt. They were making a mockery of me in a situation of their making; let them ask questions now. Let them wonder what's in my mind. It's a fun little game of mental chess even if I'd already lost for all intents and purposes. How "Hot buxom wife" excited me, though, especially since I had B cup boobs. Hardly buxom.

I squirmed inside the layers of bondage, feeling that heat welling up within me. Ahh, sexuality, I do love what you do to me through crotch ropes, but how I hate describing the physicality of you and your splendid results. Orgasm is like a workout: it hurts, you secrete fluid, you feel like your muscles will explode, and it somehow is still absolutely amazing. It's just erotic, and I'm able to repeatedly orgasm for hours unlike bench pressing or jogging or curling.

"See you later, Janie!" Ken suddenly announced, to my total surprise, "Eva will get you later."
"Yep. I'll see you tomorrow or some other time, Hot Buxom Wife!" Caleigh taunted.
"Huh?!" I couldn't believe my ears; they were really abandoning me here like this?
"At least it's been cooler today! You'll be fine," my sister-in-law reassured me.
"Eva gets off at 5, so you'll be here only an hour or an hour and a half," Ken added.
"Gmmmmm," the thought alone was enough to get me arching in my multi-layered confinement.
"Have fun. I know you will!" the blonde girl teased me.
"BLUGH!" I retched on the taste of her horrid socks and thought HOW THRILLING.

I do not recommend doing such things, to be clear, but this explained Caleigh's gag setup and her choice of confinement. She arranged things so that my only risks were fire and tornado. Both of those are extreme scenarios, and the latter wasn't going to happen on a clear, cool, sunny day, but fire was a risk anytime and anywhere. In other words, I was letting this slide. Abandonment in a forest is one thing because we don't have the dangers in Minnesota that exist in some places, so I felt safe and calm in this crazy situation. Again, not recommendable, but THRILLING.

I squirmed in my bonds, the cushioning layers of sheet, hood, and my braid (as little as they were able to provide) my only consolation in my bondage, the intense rope bondage, the tape over the rope, and the sheet which wrapped me like a burrito, all stuffed into a wooden box. My skirt had been taken, and my own socks were against my nose with their terrible odor, a contrast to what I experienced from tasting Caleigh's socks, and my boobs were exposed. I was in heaven.

"HELLLLLL!" I called out as loudly as I could, but no response came, "HELLLL EEEE!"

I was truly alone here in the woodshop.

And then I exploded.

Never before that moment had I been so aroused without physical stimulation involved. It's an awkward topic for me, but that was the best orgasm I'd experienced to that point in my life, with bondage anyway. I'd had some breathstopping moments in both vanilla and bondage sex, but all by myself like this? No, that was, for 22 year old Janie, the moment of her lifetime. I screamed as loudly as I could, at the top of my lungs, as shrill as possible, and I got no response, not even a saw quietly chopping wood on the far side of the woodshop. It was genuine abandonment with a pair of socks on my nose and some of the most stringent bondage possible as my only company.

"HELLLLLLLLLL! HELLL EEEEEE!" I cried out repeatedly knowing that not only was I here all alone but also that there was no way anyone could hear me because the distance between the woodshop and the road was too great. I was trapped in rope bondage and wrapped in thick blue duct tape and then mummified with a sheet and more tape. I had the homemade hood, Caleigh's socks in my mouth under the numerous, face crushing layers of tape, my socks against my nose, and the confines of the box. "HELLLL! HELLLLLLLL! EH EE OU UH HEEH!" but all I did was force myself towards another explosive reaction, "GMMMMMMMMM!" It was fantasy of the best kind: true abandonment in body, but Caleigh and Ken were with me in spirit.

The tight rope bondage was sufficient to trap me in here, but the tape, hood, and sheet all caused me to sweat. Sweaty situations lead me to more arousal. Plus I had a crotch rope. Solitude was but another drug, the most powerful of them all, and I thrashed inside the layers like an alligator in heat, slamming the sides of the crate with full force. The more I fought, the more of Caleigh's dirty sock flavors leached onto my tongue. The layers, especially the tape that wrapped around my body for the taco portion of my bondage, trapped the sweat, making me quickly get soaked.

BAM!………… BAM!………… BAM!………… BAM!………… BAM! I slammed my feet against the strong wooden box that confined me. "AHHHHHHHH! HELL EEEEE! HELL EEEEEEEEEE!" and throw myself into a massive arch stopped only by the tight confines of the box, "EEEKKKKKKKKKK!" I loved every minute of it though and couldn't get enough of it. I was in my TUG heaven, completely helpless and abandoned like this, and I made a mountain out of a molehill in the best ways imaginable. This was such a fun adventure.

That was just a few minutes. Caleigh and Ken abandoned me at 4:07 PM. Eva arrived after 5:40 PM. You can imagine my exhaustion, my sweating, the ache in my body from the numerous and strong orgasms, the barrenness of Caleigh's socks by then, the weakness of the odor in my socks, and the continued rigidity of my bondage. I tried again, "UGH! HELLLL EEEE!"

"Janie! Janie!" I heard Eva's voice, "Where are you? How long have you been here?"
"Geh ee ou uh ith!" I said to her despite my impassioned pleasure and continued heat.
"Let me get you out of there," she undid the clasps on the box and opened the lid.
"Eha, hell ee! Geh ee ouhha hith," I said in my exhausted state.
"Boy, Ken and Caleigh turned you into an entombed Indian Princess burrito, huh?"
"Mmm hmm!" I nodded my head, "It uth ho hooh," I melted in my bondage.

Eva, Caleigh and Ken's younger sister, is like an angel to me, and I do the same for her. As I have mentioned before, she is becoming increasingly deaf, and she will likely be totally deaf by the time she is 30. But, at the time of this story, hearing aids still worked for her, and she had a big smile on her face while she helped me out of the box and undid the tape that sealed the sheet around my body. Once I was out of the sheet, she also removed the hood and with it my socks.

"Hank oo," I said weakly to her, and laid there breathing heavily.
"You're welcome," she smiled, "Janie, may I have a little fun?" she asked me, and I nodded.

And then Eva proceeded to pull on the crotch rope to send me into one last frenzy. She saw that distinctive look in my eyes, and she knew I wanted that and that alone. Eva loves spanking me more than doing anything else, but she didn't. She went for the thing she knew would make me happy, and my happiness in turn made her happy. Eva didn't dominate for domination's sake like Caleigh did; it was all a game for her, no matter the role. My role was to orgasm helplessly and give her a hearty laugh because of my wide-eyed frenzy. It was so much fun we had that day.

Eva released me after that, but I will never forget that adventure. It was unforgettable for all the right reasons. Several unique adventures involve the crate. As I've said elsewhere, use of the crate wasn't as frequent back then because it was just me and Ken, so it was mostly him teasing me on occasion. With TUGs happening at work 2-4 times per month, the box only appeared 3-6 times per year until Eva joined us there full time in 2023.

[AlexUSA3]

@charliesmith, @silvertejp590, @SquidIncMaster, @Switcher1313, @The G-Man, @Caesar73, @Phantomette, @0Kay, @Yewteed, @Solarbeast, @GreyLord, @Kinky_boi,@harveygasson, @hafnermg, @johopp, @Bilmik, @DommeKirsten, @RopeBunny, @LunaDog, @PenelopeRopes, @StrugglingSue, @JohnnyRockets, @mega23101982

Part 2: Abandoned but Not Forgotten
Wednesday, October 11, 2023

"GMMMM HMMMMM!" Eva howled into the gag before I shut and clasped the lid of the crate.
"Don't worry," I said to my bound, blindfolded, and gagged sister-in-law while hitting each clasp.
"MMMMM HMMMMMM!" she yelled quite loudly, totally immobilized with zipties.
"I'll only be gone 1 or 2 hours, maybe 3," I said sarcastically, "You'll be fine!"
"MMMMMMMMM!" she repeated the plea but never gave the release signal since she liked it.
"See ya, Eva! Enjoy yourself!" I said and walked out of the woodshop.

How did we get to this point? Why is Eva bound and gagged? Why did I lock her inside a crate like this? Why am I going to make deliveries instead of my husband? I took a calculated risk, but all TUGs are calculated risks. I bet you're dying to know how I concluded that it was OK to leave Eva like that for up to 3 hours of total helpless solitude. Let's go back 15 or 30 minutes….

"All right, Janie," Ken said to me, "I have a dentist appointment. Will you make the deliveries?"
"Of course!" I said with a smile, "I'd be glad to do that. I love making deliveries!"
"And I can help!" Eva said with her own smile, "It'll be great!"
"Great. I will feel like human waste afterwards," he laughed, "And will see you at the house."
"By, sweetie," I kissed my husband on the cheek and watched him leave.
"Sweet! Oh, Janie, we'll have so much fun without Kenny," my sister-in-law spoke ironically.

I went to use the restroom before I left because the truck was already loaded and ready for me to make the deliveries. That's how it began. On my way back from the restroom, I happened to see a piece of plastic on the floor: a piece of ziptie from the last time someone had been ziptied right here in this very same workshop, probably 1 or 2 months before this. That gave me an idea for a ride that Eva would never forget for as long as she lived. I went to a little supply cabinet, where we kept the work TUG toys (don't judge us) and grabbed three packages of different sized zips.

Now I had to execute my plan on the lovely Eva Rondell. We were dressed for the chill of a cold autumn day, although it was just a chill and not oppressive. Eva dressed like it was much colder than it was, with her military ascetic: a pleated camouflage ankle skirt, a khaki turtleneck t-shirt, a camouflage bandana headband, a khaki scrunchie holding her braid, camouflage combat boots, black knee socks, and khaki leg warmers. It's cottage-core meets U.S. Army and 1950s women.

Eva is no slouch, either. She played volleyball and coached it now. She was still fit to play it at a decent level, too, but an old injury and hearing loss stole both her volleyball and army dreams. She was a strong girl, the piercing blue eyes and blonde hair with natural brown highlights both hid the depths of her soul. She had a personality that was adorable, but you will see it soon.

"Boom!" I grabbed her when she stepped out of the office, and quickly tried to bind her arms.
"Why you twisted little freak!" she said ironically, since she is 5'8" and I am 6'1".
"I'm making these deliveries alone," I cackled while she fought me, but I prevailed.
"Sneaky like the Seminole Samson that you are!" she needled me with my ethnic nickname.
"Ohhhh, yes," I made sure the ziptie held her elbows together safely, "And you're all mine now!"
"Guh!" she tried to flex her arms and snap the ziptie, and sighed, "Not today! I guess I'm yours!"

Seminole Samson only set Florida high school and college conference home run records and got to play softball for Team USA before retiring to be a wife and mother. I wore my favorite outfit, but mine doesn't matter since I am the captor. It was all red and black, though, and looked great against my Native American skin tone, black long hair. and chocolate brown eyes. Even in such weather, Eva and I broke out in a sweat, and I dare say it made me look even more Native!

With zipties, it's "safety in numbers". It's hard to find the line between "safety in numbers" and "too darned many." That's why I zipped Eva's arms together five more times so that she had one above her elbows and five from her wrists to just below her elbows. I used bright yellow zips so they would stand out. She sat down with a plaintive, playful, and mischievous sigh while I stole her boots, socks, and leg warmers. Again, safety in numbers! Five zips for each leg segment.

"Wait until I show my secret strength and snap these at will," Eva joked, loving her bondage.
"Wait until I show my secret weapon and make you groan into your socks!" I stuffed one sock in the other, "This is going to be fun for both me and you… especially for you, my friend!"
"This is going to be gross," she laughed, "Hey, psychopath, I went to the gym with those socks!"
"I know you did," I smiled, knotting a big 27 inch black bandana around the outer sock.
"I have a secret, Janie," Eva rolled her eyes, "I wanted to be tied up today and went commando."
"That's why you're not fighting and swearing like normal!" I nodded my head in understanding.
"Janie, I hate to ask my sister-in-law and best friend for this, but…," she anxiously bit her lip.

I could tell she was embarrassed and full of some sort of desire. To be fair, there had been things I knew she hadn't experienced since her boyfriend dropped her on account of her deafness after a multi-year relationship. If I knew her as well as I thought I did, then she wanted to be fondled to the point that she received a breast orgasm. Except that's not fondling. She just wants to feel the helplessness and the squeeze and the resulting rush of hormones. I have seen that embarrassment on her face in the past for similar requests during TUGs. She shouldn't be embarrassed though!

"Janie, push me to my limits. Test me. Make me long for release. If I'm going to be trapped for 1 to 3 hours, I want to feel true helplessness. Mummify me. Burrito wrap me. Expose me. Try anything you think will make me feel that. I… brought my vibrator with me today."
"For you the surprise was Ken's appointment. You came planning on TUGs," I smiled at her.
"Yeah, that ruined my plans, and I thought we'd play afterwards, but…," she rolled her eyes.
"It's time for G.I. Eva to quit speaking," I said and stuffed the layered gag into her mouth.
"GMMMMMM!" she groaned loudly while the sweaty socks filled every crevice of her mouth.
"No mercy, just as you requested," I said, knotting the black bandana as tightly as possible.

I then took out a roll of blue duct tape and a pair of scissors and watched Eva's grow wide with a mixture of dread, desire, horror, and excitement. She asked me to spare her nothing, and love is a funny thing that will lead you to call an audible on your plans and fulfill desire. I tried to wrap the tape as tightly around her head as I could, squeezing her cheeks and sealing her lips as best as I could. Honestly, if she hadn't requested such intensity, I would have been uncomfortable giving her so tight of a gag. Sometimes, a girl isn't stressed, but she still needs to burn off some energy.

"Nnnggggggggg!" Eva tested the gag and sounded quiet and unable to say anything intelligible.

I grabbed the scissors and cut the excess on each of the zips binding Eva's arms and legs. I took a bag of smaller zips and then went to work increasing the intensity. Tying her big toes together was a standard element. Zipping each finger on her left hand to the same one on her right hand was less common, and I zipped them at the base of the finger and at the third knuckle, cutting the excess in similar fashion. I zipped her thumbs together and her palms. Using a trick I learned in college, I zipped all four fingers together in the middle and zipped her thumbs to her hands. She couldn't do anything with her fingers or hands… at all. It was excessive, and her eyes glowed.

A wiggle of the eyebrows told me that this was exactly how she wished it to be, and I grabbed a roll of cling wrap to begin the mummification portion of her request since I couldn't do all of it so soon as I still had to fulfill the exposure portion. Still, I wrapped her lower legs and thighs in the clear plastic, and I pulled one of the leg warmers over the useless club that was her lower legs mostly as a harmlessly comedic show of my power, and she tested all of the bondage with gusto. I even put the vibrator right in the perfect spot before I wrapped her thighs. Playing with fire.

"Nnnnggggg!" again, Eva yelled, but she was really just testing the limits of the disgusting gag.
"Don't waste your energy, Eva," I taunted her with whimsy, "You'll need it when you're crated."

Eva took a deep breath when I rolled her shirt up to confirm her claim of going commando today and found a pair of, ahem, using my best porno voice here "Luscious, perfectly round, firm, 32B tits, so perfect to squeeze." I wrapped longer zips around her torso at her waist and both above and below her boobs, mostly to pin her arms to her torso and make her even more helpless. Then I cling wrapped her torso except for her boobs. I make bondage sound like medicine, don't I?

"Nnnnngggg!" once more, Eva cried out, this time when I used a beige bandana to blindfold her.
"Eva, you made a request, a show of your trust in me, and I won't betray that trust," I assured her.
"Nnnmph!" she exhaled sharply when I began squeezing her breasts just like she desired.
"I know. That feeling is electrifying, isn't it?" I asked her, knowing her desires all too well.
"Nggg!" she nodded in total surrender, joyfully anticipating the orgasm, the burrito wrapping, the sealing in the crate, and the total abandonment alone here in the workshop that would follow.
"Just you wait until you're in the crate and I turn on that wand," I tried to build her anticipation.

Now, not trying to get graphic, but just picture me, granted I was 6'1", but I'm a Native American with super long jet black hair in a braid, a very girly face, and an athletic figure. Picture me with a blonde haired military-clad captive sitting on my lap while I talk to her with that porno voice as my inflection while I say things like "Booooooooobiessssssss!" because I'm squeezing her boobs to help her achieve that breast orgasm she so obviously desires. I really up the ante with teasing, such as her own expression of "Mmmm hmmm, what a rack!" You can imagine the rest.

"Nggggg!" was all Eva could say even when she blindly threw her head back and lost herself in a fit of ecstasy when I squeezed the breast orgasm out of her. Never had I heard so much pleasure from her, and I realized that she found so much meaning in our friendship, enough so that losing her dreams to deafness and injury and losing her boyfriend would one day no longer matter even as she faced the reality of one day navigating a completely silent world. It saddened me to see a girl who loved TUGs so much would someday be unable to hear gag talk or playful menacing.

I soon found an old pink sheet that we kept in the woodshop just for moments like this. This was going to be the final piece before the crating of Evangeline Rondell. I laid out the sheet and put her at one side and in the middle, folding the excess sheet above her over her head and chest and the excess below her feet over her feet and legs. I then rolled it up tightly, just like a burrito! It was such a fun way to be wrapped, and I wrapped more blue duct tape around her ankles, lower thighs, waist, and either side of her boobs to seal the sheet around her body. Was this foolish? I even fed the wire to the vibrator so that I could attach it to an extension cord. This was risky.

"Enjoy," I said tenderly, laying Eva inside the crate and feeding the extension cord through one of the two notches we'd carefully carved into the side of the crate (since you could fit two people inside the crate). I put the lid on top and clasped it shut before plugging the vibrator into the wall and opening up my phone to engage the device. Yes, we had four vibrators; two classic and two that could be controlled with an app so that any of us could be sent a text and asked to dish out delightful torment at a distance. With that, I left, wondering if I was an idiot to do this.

Abandonment has been that kink that sets the Pattersons and Rondells apart from the rest of the Cool Girls' Club. It's that one realm in which we're foolhardy. We know it's dangerous and risky in the particular case of fire. We never used true stuffed gags, but what about emergencies? It is to be noted that there are 5 stories of workplace abandonment and 2 of home abandonment which represent the entire collection of post-college abandonment games which I've played, but is this 7 too many? Should we have a "ball gags only" rule? No matter what rule you put in place, what I did to Eva should not have occurred under any conditions, and thankfully only my story of crate abandonment and this one featured anything near this level of intensity.

I drove away and slowly simmered into a multitude of thoughts even as I made my first delivery with a smile still on my face. After that, I opened the app and adjusted the vibrator to intensify the situation for Eva. I could picture her enjoying her solo, loudly orgasming in her solitude. It was going to be intense for her because she's a girl who can really get going, and she had a long wait ahead of her. Just when I seemed to relax, I tensed up once again.

What if Eva was in distress? What if she'd tightened a ziptie by mistake? If I'd used some other kind of binding, that wouldn't be an issue. What if she wanted to be released? No one could free her because only I knew she was there and so heavily wrapped. What if something went wrong, like if she got sick? That's when I realized two things: first I was overthinking things when this should have been planned out and second that I knew for sure that Eva was having fun. That my choices were ill-advised was true, but the real issue was in how I executed my impromptu plan.

And then I upped the vibrator to max and did 75 in a 40 zone to get back to the shop sooner since I rushed to each customer's location but gave them that Rondell careful delivery they so love. I'd still taken almost 2 hours to make all of the deliveries, and I hastened back to the shop, vowing I would never do something this insane ever again. This crossed from risky to stupid.

"Nggggg!" Eva orgasmed for God knows what time when I entered the woodshop again.
"Well, I'm glad she's safe," I muttered to myself and approached the crate in silence.
"Gmmmmm," she quietly groaned, unaware that she wasn't alone any longer.
"That's my friend," I spoke softly so she couldn't hear me, "She trusts me so much."
"NGGGGGG UHHHHHH!" her groans were extremely primal, almost like subspace.
"Thank you God for protecting her," I prayed before taking a deep breath and opening the crate.

I had utterly failed to protect the Gangsta Bloom. With sadness, I helped Eva out of the crate and gently laid her down on the floor and cut the tape that sealed her inside the burrito wrap sheet. I knew I had been derelict in my responsibilities, and I unknotted the blindfold. Eva's eyes glazed over from the subspace, and there was a look of childish wonder. I unplugged the vibrator before I went further to remove the most glaring of the stimuli before proceeding.

I carefully unpeeled the tape gag, making sure I didn't rip her skin. I unknotted the bandana and pulled the socks out with the bandana to which they'd been affixed, my one "safety check" in one dangerous and foolish game. Eva said nothing; she never spoke much in subspace; she would be unaware of 50-75% of what I was doing afterwards, having no recollection of this part. She had a grin on her face, though, which only reminded me that I'd endangered her in the name of fun.

I let Eva sit for a few minutes, but she was in a high like nothing I'd ever seen, meaning I'd likely pushed her into subspace when I turned on the vibrator or made that first adjustment, let alone at the time of the second adjustment. She trusted me as her sister-in-law and best friend, and I had utterly failed her. Never had I seen her so still, so distant, so unaware, or so quiet. Eva Rondell is a girl best enjoyed when she's loud, profane, and fully attuned to her surroundings. What had I done? What kind of fool had I been to do this to some I love so dearly?!

"Janie," Eva broke her silence with a near whisper, "That was almost magical."
"I'm…," I started to apologize and realized she wouldn't understand it, "Magical, huh?"
"Yeah," she nodded, "I need my dark chocolate," and then she closed her eyes and leaned back.

I sat there stunned, my jaw open. I had trivialized her life, and she was grateful because she had no clue how much risk went into her current state. She was happy because she didn't understand what happened to her in subspace. I quietly cut the cling wrap while she slowly returned to her normal state, a state for which I now had a longing. I cut the zipties, finishing her release. I was irresponsible, and I realized that loving submission and subspace doesn't make me a dominatrix. There needs to be communication, and understanding yourself in submission does not mean that you understand others in submission. If anything, I'm less qualified because I'm submissive.

"Wow," Eva lay on her back and looked up at the ceiling, "Janie, thank you so much."
"Here's your chocolate," I handed her a piece knowing it was part of her routine aftercare.
"Thanks," she accepted it and took a bite, her eyes slowly regaining their vitality.
"Are you OK?" I asked her so that I would have some sense of reassurance.
"Of course," she said in a more Eva-like tone, "Why, is something wrong?"

That day led to changes in how I approached TUGs. It was the beginning of new guidelines for how we conducted games. Abandonment is a potentially deadly kink. I had no place leading a subspace adventure let alone an abandonment game, but I could certainly be the one guided in a game where these were the aims. Abandonment had to have more failsafes in place if we were to explore that danger. The captive had to have a realistic shot at escaping, which wasn't going to happen with zipties. The bondage should not have been zipties in case they tightened.

I couldn't spoil the moment for Eva because then she'd crash out of subspace, and things would be even worse. Instead, I carefully guided her back to earth, brought her home safe and sound, went home, fixed dinner for my family, got the kids to bed, cuddled up with Ken, and cried. If I had injured Eva, I would've never forgiven myself. It was a day of reckoning for me and TUGs and some of the wilder kinks that my family and I shared.

I had many lessons to learn, but thankfully I had my husband, in-laws, siblings, and friends.

"I don't understand what you did wrong," Eva said to me, having no memory of the events due to the intensity of the subspace erasing her memory of pretty much everything from before the first adjustment to the vibrator. That made things that much worse, in my mind. Eva was helpless at my hands and under my protection, and I willfully endangered her even after the alarms went off in my head. I knew better, and I still pushed onwards with guilt and fear burying me alive. All I had to do was make a 15 minute diversion to the woodshop. Heck, all I needed to do was put my precious cargo in a secure position on the rear bench of the truck cab while I made the deliveries so that I could keep an eye on her at all times except when I was inside someone's home.

Dear Janie,
We heard about what happened with Eva a few days ago, and we want to assure you that there is no anger towards you for your mistake. When you spoke with your sister, it was clear that there was genuine grief in your voice, and she conveyed this to us when she expressed her concerns to us. Truly, you are a blessed girl to have the siblings and in-laws that you have!

When you spoke with me yesterday, your distress was obvious. Because this is a serious matter but you are apologetic about your mistake, we have decided that it would be best for one of our most knowledgeable, generous, and congenial members, Ashley Calland, to pay you a visit right at the scene of the crime, and she has graciously agreed to do so if you and your in-laws will be kind enough to receive her with open arms. She's a good teacher, the best of the best, and if you ask her nicely she will use you and Eva to demonstrate the safe way to play with the crate.

Don't beat yourself up over this. Take a deep breath. Hug Eva. Tell her you're sorry so that she is aware that this crossed a line in safety. When we spoke with her, she clearly hadn't a clue that this was so dangerous, in part because of her excitement and subsequent subspace. It's good for Ashley to visit because Eva might need the lessons even more than you do.

We love you, Gangsta Jock, and each of us sends you a hug and a kiss to remind you that you're human, that you're loved, and that you will always be a Cool Girl no matter what happens. You are overdue for a visit to some of us or from some of us, so let's get to work crafting a plan for a more informal, playful visit or two, OK? You deserve some downtime, especially after this. We are proud of you for realizing the severity of your mistake and self-reporting the violation of the rules to us. It takes more maturity than you realize, and you truly are a blessing to all who know you. There are some people you love who love you more than even you believe.

All the best in love and friendship,
The Cool Girls' Club 2023 Officers

[hafnermg]

Great story!! You do a great job describing the line between what is too dangerous and what isn't on these games!!