Hogtied, Slobbering Wife (MF/F)
Posted: Wed Oct 22, 2025 11:59 am
Janie: Hogtied, Slobbering Wife
Thursday, December 7, 2023
I was just minding my own business, unaware of what was awaiting me. Even a day after you've taken your sister-in-law for a fun ride, your guard is down ever so slightly even though you're on hyper alert. Then the work day gets into full swing, you forget about the possibility of revenge, and next thing you know you're bound and gagged. Here in the Cool Girls' Club, we have rules that happen to match the philosophy used by my husband's family in playing games, but there is a distinct flavor to a Rondell TUG that differs from anyone else's games. You'll see.
Since it was a December day, my clothing was more appropriate for cold weather. My beloved black jeans, blue and white canvas sneakers, and blue crew socks were nice and cozy and useful in a woodshop. Black jeans bring so much joy to my life despite being black because they make me feel strong, utilitarian, and serious. Wearing black jeans can be useful when I'm in a somber mood as a result of my borderline personality disorder (BPD) or when I'm feeling happy and full of energy. Blue jeans are nicer with certain colors; black jeans are outright awesome.
My flannel blue-and-black plaid long-sleeve button-up shirt was a favorite of mine, and the split color blue-and-white bandana I wore on my head as a kerchief for no reason except my personal happiness felt like a highlight of my multi-tribal heritage. There is so much to be said about my outfit and me, but sometimes it seems like you're bored by my descriptions of people. Like, my jet black hair was in a braid that reached my butt and held by blue and white scrunchies. There's no describing how much fun it is having Seminole, Miccosukee, and Creek blood that I can trace with certainty by going no further than my great-grandparents to find recognized members of the tribes. This is on top of having Irish, Black, and Spanish blood, too. It gives me warm fuzzies.
"Hands in the air!" Eva surprised me with a disengaged fake rifle when I entered the office.
My instinct to play along saw me immediately comply, "Don't shoot!"
"Ah! There you are! Take off the shirt, or I'll blast you!" she ordered me to comply.
"Yes, ma'am," I began unbuttoning my shirt as she desired, took it off, and draped it on my chair.
"Face the wall; hands behind your back. It's going to be a f-cking awesome journey."
I saw a swish of blue and felt something unusual tying my wrists. "What the heck is this?"
"After the fun we had with that French girl, I bought us some blue parachute cord!"
"Wow, Eva!" Now it was my turn to flip on her, "I'm surprised you didn't knit some up instead!"
"Which one of us has been reduced to a common squaw?" she teasingly asked me.
"Only you can say that and use it as a term of endearment," I responded in a happy voice.
"Oh, you'd better believe it," Eva cinched that bond and moved up to my elbows next.
That blue paracord was like a magical snake winding in and around my body for elbow bondage, a restrictive harness with a cinching through the armpits, an unnecessary but scrumptious binding of my forearms, and a waist rope that sure had to be temporary because crotch ropes were like an essential ingredient for life in this woodshop. Indeed, a jerks on my bond and an examination of the waist showed it to be way too long. Into my mouth went the blue ball gag known here as Ol' Blue because it was the first ball gag Ken bought, a simple 2 inch model with the standard black leather strap. This time, Eva was hoping to turn me into a slobbering mess.
Honestly, I could hold 2.5 inch gags as well as most girls held 2 inch or 1.75 inch gags, and with my big mouth I could even handle a 3 inch for long periods—the blessings of being a giant 6' 1" retired softball star! Being Eva and wanting revenge for what I'd done to her the day before, the ball gag strap was tightened more than was essential for this scene. My response was to giggle.
What surprised me at first was how Eva tied my legs. Three ropes on my lower legs at the knees, shins, and ankles was fairly normal given my size. Only tying my thighs above the knees was an unusual twist, but then I realized it was time for one of Eva's favorite games as both captor—the semi-ritual sacrifice of the captive to the sexual desires of the significant other.
"Mmmm hmmm, what a girl," Eva playfully pulled on my braid, "Kenny, your wife is ready!"
"Huh?!" I questioned her with a roll of my eyes and a laugh, "Wha hih hou huth thay?!"
"Huh?!" Ken repeated the question and walked into the office, "My wife is ready?"
"Yeah, she's all tied up, and I wanted to let you have first dibs," Eva motioned with a smile.
"Mmmmmmm," I playfully batted my eyes like I was the damsel on the train track.
"Anyway, you can tie her up however you'd like and—" was the end of Eva's speech.
"Get out of here!" he shoved Eva out of the office, shut the door, and locked it, "Hi, Janie!"
When Ken did that, I played along by taking some nervous hops backward. After we had done a sacred deed, in a big show of that masculine dominance that always made me melt, Ken checked each one of the blue parachute cords that bound me and tightened them as he pleased and further tied my legs together at the middle and upper thighs and tied a tight waist and crotch rope. Last of all, he used another paracord to put me in a vicious ankles to elbows hogtie on Eva's spacious desk and put a medicine cup on the desk about a foot in front of me.
"You have to fill that cup with your own slobber, Janie. Fill it, and then we'll talk," Ken said to me and then walked out of the office to explain things to Eva, "Good luck, Janie!"
"GMMMMMMMM!" I groaned into the ball gag and began slowly scrunching towards the cup.
Now, my first time ever being bound with parachute cord had occurred only a month before this incident, and I was in love with how the thin, unforgiving material dug into my body. The dents would certainly be around for a long time, and the redness would be a pleasure for hours or even days. I'm not a fan of pain like Eva is, but I can't say how much I love tight, inescapable TUGs.
With a deep breath, I scrunched over to the cup, which was just one part of the process. Now, it was necessary to drool into the cup and not just drool! That was much easier said than done for real. Eva sat at her desk with her arms crossed—watching me with curiosity, love, semi-magical desire to be in my position, satisfaction at her successful conquest, and friendship.
"Gmmmmm!" I turned to Eva for approval when I got the angle of my head and neck just right.
"Good job!" she looked at the small medicine cup, "Kenny, Janie filled up the cup!"
"Did she now? I'll come see" Ken called back and soon appeared at the door, "Good job!"
"MMMMMMM!" I happily responded and struggled in my hogtie, and Ken unbuckled the gag.
"Dump that out, Eva. So, Janie, how about doing it with the new and improved 'Big Yellow'?"
"Wow, baby, you're challenging me," I smiled and let him wipe the drool of my lips with a green bandana, "All right, but pull those straps tight so that my face gets super deep dents!"
"As you wish, Gangsta Jock!" My husband expressed his love with my favorite movie quote.
"Gmmm hmmm!" my heart leapt a little while the 2.5 inch silicone filled my mouth.
Eva stepped in and took over the tightening of the straps. "Just remember, you asked for this."
The straps were all tightened to excess, and that was the first time I realized the reality I was the mother of two children and that I couldn't be dented and red skinned (I mean red from being tied up, not from being Native American, before you have such deplorable thoughts!) around them if I was going to be a good mother. They were still young enough they wouldn't notice, but when I was dealing with kindergarteners and such it would become a big issue.
A bigger ball means more drooling. More drooling means filling the medicine cup faster, right? However, after a tablespoon of drooling, I accidentally knocked the cup off the desk and onto the floor right by Eva's feet. With a few sad groans, I looked at her, batted my eyes, and earned her sympathies. She put the medicine cup back where it belonged, patted my head sweetly, and gave me a jerk on my braid to remind that she was the most ruthless captor of her siblings. I howled a rare oath into my gag at the surge of pain, but Eva's playful smile earned rapid forgiveness.
There cannot be enough good things said about this situation between the parachute cord and the humiliation of having to drool into a medicine cup to please my captors. Eva was the paragon of a benevolent dictator, with one never knowing when she'd be sweet and helpful versus brutal and harmful. Picking up the medicine cup was sweet and helpful; leaving it on the floor and leaving me to wail in distress because it was inaccessible would also have been par for the course.
"Kenny! Your hogtied, slobbering wife filled the cup again."
"Huh?!" I sometimes could not—still cannot—believe Eva's creative ways of describing things.
"OK, Janie, One final ball gag." Ken showed me a 3 inch orange rubber dog ball gag with a blue bandana threaded through the holes and undid Big Yellow's straps, "Open up nice and wide."
"All right," I smiled and added, "Here we go with the really big boy now! AHHH! GMMMM!"
"That's my wife," my husband tenderly kissed my cheek after tightly knotting the bandana.
It's understood, right? A bigger gag leads to more drooling; we already discussed this. My teeth sank into that big ball, and I felt exhaustion just from the sheer size. I was merely Ken's hogtied, slobbering wife, to use the phrase of the day. I was a Gangsta Jock in distress, a captured native princess, especially true since I had princess-length hair! My braid hung over my shoulder and towards the floor while I struggled in the parachute cord hogtie.
Dutifully drooling into a medicine cup is more exciting than it seems, especially when you're in the hands of people you trust and basically adding a fun game on top of an athletic challenge. In a few minutes of drooling, I had the medicine cup filled, and I turned to Eva and gag talked a lot in order to get her attention. The smile on her face assuaged my concerns: Eva was in a happier, more quiet mood and simply enjoying this rambunctious, impromptu workplace TUG.
"Good job!" How Eva beamed while contemplating future games that used the medicine cup.
And, fortunately for me, it wasn't my only time being dubbed a "Hogtied, Slobbering Wife."
Thursday, December 7, 2023
I was just minding my own business, unaware of what was awaiting me. Even a day after you've taken your sister-in-law for a fun ride, your guard is down ever so slightly even though you're on hyper alert. Then the work day gets into full swing, you forget about the possibility of revenge, and next thing you know you're bound and gagged. Here in the Cool Girls' Club, we have rules that happen to match the philosophy used by my husband's family in playing games, but there is a distinct flavor to a Rondell TUG that differs from anyone else's games. You'll see.
Since it was a December day, my clothing was more appropriate for cold weather. My beloved black jeans, blue and white canvas sneakers, and blue crew socks were nice and cozy and useful in a woodshop. Black jeans bring so much joy to my life despite being black because they make me feel strong, utilitarian, and serious. Wearing black jeans can be useful when I'm in a somber mood as a result of my borderline personality disorder (BPD) or when I'm feeling happy and full of energy. Blue jeans are nicer with certain colors; black jeans are outright awesome.
My flannel blue-and-black plaid long-sleeve button-up shirt was a favorite of mine, and the split color blue-and-white bandana I wore on my head as a kerchief for no reason except my personal happiness felt like a highlight of my multi-tribal heritage. There is so much to be said about my outfit and me, but sometimes it seems like you're bored by my descriptions of people. Like, my jet black hair was in a braid that reached my butt and held by blue and white scrunchies. There's no describing how much fun it is having Seminole, Miccosukee, and Creek blood that I can trace with certainty by going no further than my great-grandparents to find recognized members of the tribes. This is on top of having Irish, Black, and Spanish blood, too. It gives me warm fuzzies.
"Hands in the air!" Eva surprised me with a disengaged fake rifle when I entered the office.
My instinct to play along saw me immediately comply, "Don't shoot!"
"Ah! There you are! Take off the shirt, or I'll blast you!" she ordered me to comply.
"Yes, ma'am," I began unbuttoning my shirt as she desired, took it off, and draped it on my chair.
"Face the wall; hands behind your back. It's going to be a f-cking awesome journey."
I saw a swish of blue and felt something unusual tying my wrists. "What the heck is this?"
"After the fun we had with that French girl, I bought us some blue parachute cord!"
"Wow, Eva!" Now it was my turn to flip on her, "I'm surprised you didn't knit some up instead!"
"Which one of us has been reduced to a common squaw?" she teasingly asked me.
"Only you can say that and use it as a term of endearment," I responded in a happy voice.
"Oh, you'd better believe it," Eva cinched that bond and moved up to my elbows next.
That blue paracord was like a magical snake winding in and around my body for elbow bondage, a restrictive harness with a cinching through the armpits, an unnecessary but scrumptious binding of my forearms, and a waist rope that sure had to be temporary because crotch ropes were like an essential ingredient for life in this woodshop. Indeed, a jerks on my bond and an examination of the waist showed it to be way too long. Into my mouth went the blue ball gag known here as Ol' Blue because it was the first ball gag Ken bought, a simple 2 inch model with the standard black leather strap. This time, Eva was hoping to turn me into a slobbering mess.
Honestly, I could hold 2.5 inch gags as well as most girls held 2 inch or 1.75 inch gags, and with my big mouth I could even handle a 3 inch for long periods—the blessings of being a giant 6' 1" retired softball star! Being Eva and wanting revenge for what I'd done to her the day before, the ball gag strap was tightened more than was essential for this scene. My response was to giggle.
What surprised me at first was how Eva tied my legs. Three ropes on my lower legs at the knees, shins, and ankles was fairly normal given my size. Only tying my thighs above the knees was an unusual twist, but then I realized it was time for one of Eva's favorite games as both captor—the semi-ritual sacrifice of the captive to the sexual desires of the significant other.
"Mmmm hmmm, what a girl," Eva playfully pulled on my braid, "Kenny, your wife is ready!"
"Huh?!" I questioned her with a roll of my eyes and a laugh, "Wha hih hou huth thay?!"
"Huh?!" Ken repeated the question and walked into the office, "My wife is ready?"
"Yeah, she's all tied up, and I wanted to let you have first dibs," Eva motioned with a smile.
"Mmmmmmm," I playfully batted my eyes like I was the damsel on the train track.
"Anyway, you can tie her up however you'd like and—" was the end of Eva's speech.
"Get out of here!" he shoved Eva out of the office, shut the door, and locked it, "Hi, Janie!"
When Ken did that, I played along by taking some nervous hops backward. After we had done a sacred deed, in a big show of that masculine dominance that always made me melt, Ken checked each one of the blue parachute cords that bound me and tightened them as he pleased and further tied my legs together at the middle and upper thighs and tied a tight waist and crotch rope. Last of all, he used another paracord to put me in a vicious ankles to elbows hogtie on Eva's spacious desk and put a medicine cup on the desk about a foot in front of me.
"You have to fill that cup with your own slobber, Janie. Fill it, and then we'll talk," Ken said to me and then walked out of the office to explain things to Eva, "Good luck, Janie!"
"GMMMMMMMM!" I groaned into the ball gag and began slowly scrunching towards the cup.
Now, my first time ever being bound with parachute cord had occurred only a month before this incident, and I was in love with how the thin, unforgiving material dug into my body. The dents would certainly be around for a long time, and the redness would be a pleasure for hours or even days. I'm not a fan of pain like Eva is, but I can't say how much I love tight, inescapable TUGs.
With a deep breath, I scrunched over to the cup, which was just one part of the process. Now, it was necessary to drool into the cup and not just drool! That was much easier said than done for real. Eva sat at her desk with her arms crossed—watching me with curiosity, love, semi-magical desire to be in my position, satisfaction at her successful conquest, and friendship.
"Gmmmmm!" I turned to Eva for approval when I got the angle of my head and neck just right.
"Good job!" she looked at the small medicine cup, "Kenny, Janie filled up the cup!"
"Did she now? I'll come see" Ken called back and soon appeared at the door, "Good job!"
"MMMMMMM!" I happily responded and struggled in my hogtie, and Ken unbuckled the gag.
"Dump that out, Eva. So, Janie, how about doing it with the new and improved 'Big Yellow'?"
"Wow, baby, you're challenging me," I smiled and let him wipe the drool of my lips with a green bandana, "All right, but pull those straps tight so that my face gets super deep dents!"
"As you wish, Gangsta Jock!" My husband expressed his love with my favorite movie quote.
"Gmmm hmmm!" my heart leapt a little while the 2.5 inch silicone filled my mouth.
Eva stepped in and took over the tightening of the straps. "Just remember, you asked for this."
The straps were all tightened to excess, and that was the first time I realized the reality I was the mother of two children and that I couldn't be dented and red skinned (I mean red from being tied up, not from being Native American, before you have such deplorable thoughts!) around them if I was going to be a good mother. They were still young enough they wouldn't notice, but when I was dealing with kindergarteners and such it would become a big issue.
A bigger ball means more drooling. More drooling means filling the medicine cup faster, right? However, after a tablespoon of drooling, I accidentally knocked the cup off the desk and onto the floor right by Eva's feet. With a few sad groans, I looked at her, batted my eyes, and earned her sympathies. She put the medicine cup back where it belonged, patted my head sweetly, and gave me a jerk on my braid to remind that she was the most ruthless captor of her siblings. I howled a rare oath into my gag at the surge of pain, but Eva's playful smile earned rapid forgiveness.
There cannot be enough good things said about this situation between the parachute cord and the humiliation of having to drool into a medicine cup to please my captors. Eva was the paragon of a benevolent dictator, with one never knowing when she'd be sweet and helpful versus brutal and harmful. Picking up the medicine cup was sweet and helpful; leaving it on the floor and leaving me to wail in distress because it was inaccessible would also have been par for the course.
"Kenny! Your hogtied, slobbering wife filled the cup again."
"Huh?!" I sometimes could not—still cannot—believe Eva's creative ways of describing things.
"OK, Janie, One final ball gag." Ken showed me a 3 inch orange rubber dog ball gag with a blue bandana threaded through the holes and undid Big Yellow's straps, "Open up nice and wide."
"All right," I smiled and added, "Here we go with the really big boy now! AHHH! GMMMM!"
"That's my wife," my husband tenderly kissed my cheek after tightly knotting the bandana.
It's understood, right? A bigger gag leads to more drooling; we already discussed this. My teeth sank into that big ball, and I felt exhaustion just from the sheer size. I was merely Ken's hogtied, slobbering wife, to use the phrase of the day. I was a Gangsta Jock in distress, a captured native princess, especially true since I had princess-length hair! My braid hung over my shoulder and towards the floor while I struggled in the parachute cord hogtie.
Dutifully drooling into a medicine cup is more exciting than it seems, especially when you're in the hands of people you trust and basically adding a fun game on top of an athletic challenge. In a few minutes of drooling, I had the medicine cup filled, and I turned to Eva and gag talked a lot in order to get her attention. The smile on her face assuaged my concerns: Eva was in a happier, more quiet mood and simply enjoying this rambunctious, impromptu workplace TUG.
"Good job!" How Eva beamed while contemplating future games that used the medicine cup.
And, fortunately for me, it wasn't my only time being dubbed a "Hogtied, Slobbering Wife."