Once, when I was in college, our quad govt had a fundraiser called "Tape D__ To The Floor Night." The president of our hall, D__, was one of those guys always trying to get people involved in student govt, and he was graduating that spring. Basically, he laid down in our floor lounge and these 2 guys sold pieces of duct tape for 50 cents a foot, and you bought the tape and used it to pin D__'s arms, legs and midsection to the floor. A lot of people, male and female, participated. Towards the end of the night, the 2 guys selling tape became more drunk, and started selling tape at 50 cents for a "Texas foot," and they'd pull off a yard long strip of tape. When he was mostly pinned down, D__'s girlfriend took pictures of him and told him, "You realize, D__, your political career is ruined." After the alloted time was over, we asked D__ to try and sit up. Our taping job wasn't that great, though, and it took D__ all of 10 seconds to get loose. And, worst of all, the fundraiser just barely broke even, because when D__ sat up, the tape tore off little patches from the anti-stain treatment on the carpet, and maintainance billed us. 

One night, I was coming back from my girlfriend's dorm at 3:00 in the morning or so and I walked across the quad of the campus to see 20 or so girls tied to the various trees with many more girls running around. I wlked over to one of the bound girls and asked her what was going on. She said that it was an initiation for her sorority. The pledges with their hands behind their backs, and their ankles were tied and the excess rope wound up and down thier body. The one I stopped to talk to looked stunning to say the least. Just then, one of the girls who had been doing the tying saw me and ran over. She threatened to tie me up if I didn't leave, and then gagged the talkative little pledge with a scarf. I left, but let's jsut say that I hung out in the shadows for quite a while. 

I had gone away to collage and had been dating this Soph woman for awhile. Well she got the best of me on a bet we had made, and I was to "pay" by having to dress up in some women's clothes. She lived off campus with 3 other women, where this would take place. On a Saturday morning, I went to her place, where she at the time we were alone. She gave me a bra, panties and a nightgown, and told me to go into the bathroom and change. She also had a couple of round balloons filled with water for me to put in the bra. The fact that she didn't make me do it in front of her however was a relief. It took a bit of nerve for me to finally come out of the bathroom dressed like that. When I did, she had a "ball". I had just started to become a bit use to the situation when her 3 roommates returned. It had been planned this way. After another few minutes of extreme embarrassment and humiliation, one of the girls produced a pair of handcuffs and I was told to put my hands behind my back. When it bacame appearant that I was reluctant to do this, one of the girls got my clothes from the bathroom and headed out the door with them. I was again told to put my hands behind my back, or I wouldn't get my clothes back. I had never had handcuffs on before, and that, along with how I was dressed, made me feel extremely helpless and venerable. For about a hour, I was teased by one or more of the girls, having to say and/or do rediculas things for their amusement. During this time, a number of pictures were taken of me over my objections. Later, in the kitchen, I was made to sit on a barstool and my legs bent up and crossbars between the stool legs. I was warned not to try to get off the stool because if I did, with my hands cuffed behind my back and my legs tied up, I would wind up falling flat on my face. Now they were in a position to really have their way with me. It was now that the ladies really went to work on me to insure that I would be subservient to them the rest of the school year. They wanted to record my agreeing to come and do housework for them upon demand; run errands for them; type reports for them; and wear lingerie whenever and wherever they wanted me to. Of course I had no intentions to agreeing to these things, at least at first. To "persuade" me, they started to pluck my eyebrows and to streak peroxide solution in my hair. I was told that until they neutralized the proxide, my hair would continue to go lighter and lighter. I was also told my eyebrows would wind up having a very feminine, arched and tapered look, and how would I explain these looks to others. It was a hard decission to make, but I finally gave in. The recording, along with the pictures that had been taken of me, would be used to "keep me in line" for the rest of the year. What would happen to me during this time is another story. 

This happened a few years back. I must have been about 27 or so. I live in NYC...so naturaly I took an acting class. This class sucked, really. There was a hot girl in the class, I forgot her name. I'll call her Ellie. It was something like that. Anyway, I was about to quit because the school had this weird kind of cult aura about it. They called me up at work to push me to enroll in more expensive courses, etc. They pissed me off and the teachers were a bit whacky...in a bullshit way. So, the point being, they wanted me to keep paying for classes so one day the teacher announces we're gonna have "a sex night". That's a class in which we do a scene that confronts sexually charged subjects...one's that might cause us to feel some repression. I thought this was bullshit. But before I knew it, the hot girl asked if she could do a scene with me. Of course I said sure. She was a blond babe, about my age. Hot bod, etc. I could hardly believe the outrageousness of my fortune when the scene we were assigned involved me kidnapping, tying and gagging her!!!!! Well, we actually decide to rehearse at my apartment in the West Village. Her apartment was in Hoboken and too inconvenient. When she came over I was so nervous and had decided I couldn't possibly tie her up. I thought this was a kind of trap or something. Maybe...I don't know it all seemed surreal. All I can remember was that she was a bit shy, nervous. Could she be a bit turned on too? Well, I said, you're supposed to be tied up. Go ahead, she told me. I trust you. Gulp. "I...I...what should I tie you up with?" "To get into the part, you should be the kidnapper. You wouldn't ask your victim how to tie her up." she instructed me. Withou skipping a beat, I went into my bedroom and collected some ties and a clean pair of socks. All the while I was trying not to blow it by walking back in with a raging stiffy. I did not blow it. She sort of stood looking around my place. I simply grabbed her and hand-gagged her. She was surprised I would be that tough. She mmmphed behind my hand. I played the part fully. "I'm going to have to tie you up. I'm sorry, but I can't let you go. Now, I'm going to remove my hand and if you scream, I'm just going to gag you. Do you understand me?" I remember these words more or less. I'm paraphrasing really. But it's all pretty vivid. She nodded yes and let out a breath through nose. I removed my hand. "Please don't tie me up. I'll be good. I won't run away..." she pleaded somethng like that. She really played it well. "You could...you could just lock me in the room. I couldn't escape then.." "I'm sorry, but I'm going to tie you up. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.!" "No." She said and ran...but away from the exit. Part of an improv is to never leave the stage. If she had gone for the door I would have let her go and then run after her to tell her this was only the scene...but she didn't. So I ran after her, grabbed her by the shoulders and struggled with her. I got her wrists behind her back and tied one of the ties around her wrists. I really tied her for ...real. "Oh my god...please don't tie me up..." she kept pleading. "If you don't shut up, I'm going to have to gag you too. Do you want that?" I said in an angry villanous voice. "No...no gag. Don't put anything in my mouth. I'll be quiet." "Good" Now sit on that chair. I pushed her, with her hands bound to a hard wood desk chair. She plopped on it and I immediately tied her ankles together. By the way, she was wearing a tight black minisirt, black semi-opaque tights, black leather knee-high boots and a black turtleneck sweater. I had to tie her ankles tigthly because of the boots. I then tied her knees together. Her tights were so silky, I remember. I could smell the leather of her boots. It was incredible! While I was tying her she kept pleading. No...don't tie me up please! Etc... When She was really bound, I watched her struggle and look at me pleadingly. "If you scream, I will gag you." I said. She kept quiet. So I went in the other room and took care of some business, if you know what I mean. I re-entered the room about 20 minutes later and she was still on the chair bound and struggling. I was holding on to a sock and thick tie. She saw this and became worried. "What's that for?" she asked. "I'm going to have to go out for a while. I'm going to have to gag you." And with that I shoved the sock in her mouth as she went "Noooommmmmphhhh!" I then tied it tightly in place with a cleave gag of the tie and knotted it tightly behind her neck. There in my apartment was this hot blond, black tight miniskirt, black tights, black boots, black tight sweater, bound, gagged and struggling. It was unreal! So I went out. I was so excited I thght I was going to loose it on the street. What was she doing in my place. In a strange room, kidnapped, gagged tightly. She might be struggling for the phone. I hope so. I came back about a half hour later. She was now on the floor, tighly bound and gagged. When she saw me she screamed in her gag at me. Well, this went on for some time. Needless to say when I untied her we made love passionatley. OUr relationship fizzled, though. i found out that the acting school was a kind of front for Scientology. They were, indeed, a cult. I was so pissed at this, I never saw her again. But I really really regret it. James 

Christine had a friend on my floor and seemed to always be around, even when her friend wasn't. I suspected that she had a thing for me, even though she was never overt with it. One day I was studying in the lounge and she walks in wearing a tight denim mini skirt. She decided to be conversational, and when I didn't give her the attention she wanted because I was trying to study, she started tickling me. There was about ten minutes of "stop it, I'm studying" and "Ok Ok, I'll stop" before I got fed up. I threatened her "If you don't stop I'll tie your hands behind your back". Either she thought I was kidding, or liked the idea because she started up again. I gave her one final warning, then I grabbed her. I pushed her down on her stomach on the couch, sat on her and proceeded to remove my shoelaces. Others in the lounge simply looked on, jaws hanging open. Over her squeals, I tied her wrists behind her and sat her up on the couch. She kicked me in the shins. I backed away, she followed me, kicking again and again, demanding I remove the shoelaces. I ran down the hall she followed. I got to the elevator just as the door opened and and ran in. She followed. I hit 'G' and darted out as the doors closed. The profanity that came from her mouth as the doors closed on her was priceless. I ran down the stairwell to meet her in the lobby. She arrived, intact and I got on the elevator along with two incredulous strangers who didn't know what to make of the whole thing. Back on my floor, still refusing to remove the laces from her wrists, she started kicking me ... again. I ran back to the lounge and through the open door to my room. To my astonishment, she followed. I slammed the door shut behind her. I told her now you've done it. Still kicking, I threw her down on the bed and tied her ankles with the laces from my other shoe. To stop her squealing and her threats (of the "you're sooo dead" variety) I decided to kiss her. She accepted and we spent the next twenty minutes in heavy petting. Not once did she ask me to untie her. We stopped short of intercourse, but I stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth and sealed it with some duct tape and replaced the shoelaces with bandannas (more comfortable), then secured her elbows and knees. I told her to get comfortable. It was late friday afternoon and my roomates were already gone for the weekend. Except for a few supervised bathroom breaks, I kept her there for the next 36 hours. While I finished studying for my exams. 

I was told about this site by one of my girlfriends. After I told her my story she suggested I ought to write it down here for mass consumption. I am a little shy about it but I thought, oh what the hell. This incident happened about a month ago during a very stressful period at school...what with finals and everything. Students at my school get very very competitive and sometimes they resort to desperate measures. This story has to do with an art class. We girls in the class were very close because we were all very talented. Our professor said we were the best she's taught. I believe her. Unfortunately her mind changed when she found out that before our final show I and one of the other girls (Kara) had a rivalry that really heated up. We were going for the same stipend award for the next semester. Anyway it happened like this. Kara and her boyfriend broke into my dorm room while I was at my dance class. So when I returned in the late afternoon, they were waiting for me. I was wearing my black french cut Capezio leotards and white tights. To walk home I slipped on a short black skirt and a pair of black leather knee boots. (It was a little chilly). When I got home they jumped me and tied my wrists behind my back with a pair of tights. These tights were very effective. I tried to run out of the room but they grabbed me and threw me on my bed, face down. There they quickly tied another pair of tights around my ankles and another one just above my knees. I knew I was really tied up tightly. I half expected her to do something like this. I didn't scream because I didn't want to provoke them to gag me. I have never been gagged and frankly gagging scared me. To be actually bound and gagged against my will made me really nervous. So after the tying, I thought they would just leave me. But I heard them debating about gagging me or not. Kara won out and I pleaded with them not to gag me. I was truly scared now. But as I was begging them, Kara stuffed a rolled up stocking in my mouth, muffling my please. Another pair of black tights were tied tightly between my lips and knotted in the back. I couldn't push the wadding out with my tongue. They left me there and I struggled wildly. I screamed but my gag was so tight and muffling. I had been tied up before by boys for sex games. But never anything like this. I couldn't believe how effective the gag was and how I struggled and couldn't seem to make any progress in loosening anything. I was hoping that my leather boots would help loosen my ankly bonds but I was wrong. I gave up after a while, I was so tired. Thank god I had my leotards on which at least kept me as comfortable as was possible. So, I stayed there bound and gagged for about, the cops tell me, 6 hours! I was rescued by the police who were tipped off by Kara's boyfriend. He felt guilty, I think and called them. The police broke into my room and there found me bound, gagged and whimpering. I was so glad to see them. I did not press charges against Kara. I won the fellowship and that's my greatest revenge! 

 Anyone from Indiana hangin' out? The reason I ask is the following (all-too-brief)article from the Depauw University school newspaper's website. I quote: 

 "11/09/97 

 Attempted Kidnapping 

 DePauw Police, responding to distress calls from three DePauw Sororities, apprehended several members of Alpha Tau Omega driving an unmarked cargo van full of bound and gagged sorority members, independent women,and professors' wives. ATO members explained to the officers that this was part of their 'A Night with Patty Hearst' theme party. No charges were filed." 

What does this say about the state of American journalism that there are no details or pictures? Scandalous. 

 Anyway, I'm poking around the web for details, but perhaps someone closer to the school will have better resources. 

Hi, I live in the UK. I discovered your site by accident - great idea! At UK universities and colleges, we (mostly) don't have an equivalent of your sorority initiations. However, I do have a story from my own days at university that kind of fits the general themes here. I need to explain what a "Rag Week" is. Almost all the UK universities have one, a week during the year when students raise money for local charities. The university and city authorities cast a blind eye to what goes on - since it's all in a good cause. Although an exception was drawn when the Medics performed an "Operation" in the shopping centre with offal they had obtained from a local butcher! This I should add takes place in the students' spare time. Anyway, the week ends with a parade and a "Rag Ball" on the final Saturday and tickets to the ball are very hard to come by, based on raising a given target of money. The incident took place in my second year. I'd arranged to meet my girlfriend, Pat, early on Saturday morning of the parade and ball. The earliest men were allowed into the girls' halls or residence (university run lodging house) was 8 am, so you can guess how long ago this was! I had a small van and left my hall at about 8 to drive round to Pat's. As I drove out, I noticed a bunch of girls going into my hall, acting strangely but took no further notice of it. When I arrived at Pat's hall, there was a group of girls in the entrance and as I walked along the corridor to Pat's room, I had the feeling a few of them were following me. I knocked on Pat's door and when she answered it, the group of about six girls pushed me in and burst in behind me. Before we knew what was happening, we were both overpowered, our hands tied behind our backs with cable ties (my first encounter with these cheap alternatives to handcuffs) and gagged. Two of the girls took Pat off to her bathroom while the others cable tied my ankles. The two girls spent 15 minutes or so talking to Pat, explaining the plot as it turned out. When they returned, Pat was free and smiling. She came over and whispered in my ear that the raiding party were going to take me away but that I would be returned unharmed later in the day when they were through with me. As a reward, we would both get Rag Ball tickets. Protest was clearly useless, not to say impossible. They blindfolded me, cut the ankle ties and frog-marched me along several corridors to what I guessed to be the sports hall. There were the sounds of other people, but whether they were raiders or captives, I didn't know. I was told to sit on the floor and my legs were retied, still blindfolded and gagged. One of the ringleaders of the plot announced that there were 24 captives in the room, and that we would be held for a "special purpose". A few minutes struggling showed this to be futile, so I settled down to await my fate. After about half an hour, our legs were freed and our blindfolds were removed under threat of replacement if we made a fuss. We were split into two groups of 12. My group was taken aside and presented with our "uniforms" for the day, Roman type sandals that laced up to the knee, a white tee shirt, black sports knickers and black field hockey skirts, which came to about mid thigh. Our hands were released and we were each put into a screen cubicle and told to change into the "uniforms". With no good grace, we dressed as instructed and when we emerged, our wrists were cuffed in front in genuine steel handcuffs. A couple of guys did try to escape at this stage but a whack to the back of their now bare legs with a cloth belt persuaded them not to! The ringleader then explained that the hall of residence was having a "Boadicea Chariot" in the Rag parade and we 12 were the lucky slaves who would pull it! Now Boadicea was a pretty ferocious ancient Briton war-lady and her chariot traditionally had knives in the hubs and was two wheeled. The lady herself would have made Attilla the Hun look attractive! This is where poetic licence took over. Our Boadicea was one of the most attractive girls in Hall and wore a full-length evening dress for the event. The "chariot" was actually a lightweight (thankfully) four-wheeled buggy. But I suppose for charity, anything goes! The shafts for the horse had been replaced with a long ladder-type structure and our cuffs (in front) were locked on to the "rungs" of the ladder. Although some effort was required to pull the chariot, though surprisingly little once it was moving, I think we were better off than the other group, who were to represent prisoners from an opposing tribe. They were dressed in jute corn sacks, with hoods of the same material over their heads with just eye slits. Their hands were roped behind their backs and to their waists. They were joined in 3 strings or "cobbles" by ropes linking their waist ropes, with the lead prisoner having his waist rope tied by a longer rope to the back of the "chariot" and were to walk or run behind it. At 11 am we joined the parade and a three hours later, we reached our destination, where the floats were to be judged. Our came an honourable third. The coach was being collected from the muster yard, so we didn't have to drag it back. Our cuffs were unlocked from the draw ladder and our hands once more tied behind our backs with cable ties and we were re-gagged and returned to our girlfriends. Pat took a lot of persuading to remove my gag but wouldn't release my hands until an hour or so into the Rag Ball in the evening, where traditionally, all the fancy dressers wore the costume they'd had on all day. Pat didn't retie me after the ball but it was a little strange making our way home on the bus with me in a shorter skirt than hers! So after an alarming start, I have to say it was fun; certainly the girls were right, if they'd asked for volunteers, there would have been no takers, so kidnapping was their only recourse. Needless to say, notes were made and the following year … well, let's just say revenge is sweet! A bit long, but I hope you enjoyed it. Comments, criticisms always welcome! Best regards, Steve. 

Sorry about the format of the last contribution - I'll try harder! Here is a quickie which though not University, is related in that that's where most of us met. My friend Duncan was getting married and asked me to be best man. Since he is very Scottish (inherited the family estate in the Highlands) he opted for the full Scottish dress (Kilts and Prince Charlie jackets, etc.) for the major participants. The wedding was a great success. One of the bonuses of being Best Man was that I got to look after the bridesmaids at the reception dance. There were four of them, two I knew from University and two who were new to me. At one stage, I was talking to one of them and didn't notice the other three coming up behind. Two of them grabbed my arms and Jean, a police cadet, slipped a pair of handcuffs on me. "Come and help with our enquiries", she said, and the four of them escorted me to the library (the reception was in Duncan's estate house). "You might as well come clean and confess", Jean said, "Just what does a Scotsman wear under his kilt?". "Sorry", I said, "I'm not allowed to tell you and anyway, I'm only part Scot". This was a futile gesture, in view of my predicament. They said that wasn't very co-operative and they would have to continue their investigations and 'look into the case". Which they promptly did! (No, I'm not going to tell you!). They declared that I was clearly innocent and released me. I saw Jean for a while after that, though we went our separate ways eventually. It turned out that since early childhood, she had been interested in capture and restraint - maybe that's why she became a policewoman. We explored some of these ideas - but those stories are for a different forum. Steve. 

Nice Rag Week story Steve. Glad you enjoyed the experience - eventually! It reminded me of my one and only active Rag part when I was at college. Ther is actually very little bondage in this story - just a catalogue of errors. I studied History at a college in the middle of England and our Rag Week was always in the summer right after exams (for an explanation of Rag Week, read Steve's post above). The deal was that the trucks to carry the floats would be delivered on the Friday before the parade, so we'd have 24 hours to load our theme scenery on to the truck. A really elaborate design was therefore, Ill advised. Since we'd studied Joan of Arc just before the exams, the burning of Joan at the stake seemed like a good theme - simple set, room for lots of "onlookers" on the truck who could leap off with their buckets to collect the charity money. After some persuasion (and a few bribes!) I agreed to be Joan, tied to the stake ready for burning. I insisted on two requirements - the truck was declared a no smoking zone and fire extinguishers were placed handy on case of stray cigarettes - realism is all very well but it didn't extend to actually burning me! We built the set on the grounds of the college - various local firms donated scrap timber and other building materials. Our set was very simple - a 10 foot length of telegraph pole, a platform for me to stand on about 3 feet up the pole, a pretty solid box to support the pole, a pile of brush wood for the fire and several yards of heavy rope to tie me to the pole. Sounds rough but looked pretty good. Some of the guys insisted on having several practices tying me to the pole but it was all in good fun and that's actually how we discovered thick (3/4") rope was needed. We tried with clothesline thickness but it just didn't show up. My hands were tied behind the pole with the thin stuff and the thick stuff was then tied round my ankles, criss-crossed round the pole and me up to my shoulders and down again, ending in a somewhat untidy knot hidden by the brush wood. Friday arrived and the truck was delivered. The driver looked at our set and asked if we knew the route. WE said we did and offered him the map but thought it strange since he wasn't the first truck. No, he said, have you seen the route? WE said no and he asked how high the pole was. 10 feet we said. How high is my truck he asked. About 4 feet we said. Good, that's 14 feet together - and how high is the Railway Bridge we have to go under? Railway bridge? What Railway Bridge? The one that is 13 feet clearance! You guys are always the same he said - you never plan ahead. Two years ago when I first did his, I set off with a 3 storey castle and returned with a bungalow! What to do? Chop the pole? But that would look silly. One of the guys suggested we could hinge the pole. So he went off to find his Engineering friend. He looked at the problem, the pile of spare building material and said OK, if we build a couple of A-frames round those railway sleepers (ties in America? The baulks of wood that hold the rails) we can drill a couple of holes through them and the pole and use those scaffolding poles, one as the pivot and one as a locking bar. All you'll have to do, Sue is to lie back on the pole when they lower it to go under the bridges. WE can put some weight under the platform to balance it all up. So we all worked late into the night to construct the fix and had it done and mounted on the truck by midnight. We were all too tired to finish the details and so agreed to meet at the parking lot at 8 am the following morning, with 5 hours to finish off anf add the garlands to pretty the truck up. I was a little late in the morning and when I arrived, they said "There is good news and bad news. The good news is that the pole pivots really well. The bad news is that if we tilt you back, the truck cab gets in the way. But we have a solution, we just tie you a little tighter so you won't slip and then we tip you forward. We've tested it and it works so you go home and get into your Joan of Arc dress, a long plain white gown we girls had been working on during the week. About half an hour before the parade was due to start, I climbed on to the platform. They tied my hands behind the pole, palms to the pole, so I could get a grip when it tilted. The heavier rope was then wrapped around me tightly but not so tight as to hurt or chafe. They gave me one practice before we set off. What a very peculiar feeling, the pole suddenly lurching forward (from my point of view) leaving me hanging in the ropes underneath. There were six low bridges and telephone cables to navigate - I felt quite seasick when we got back but it all worked out. Our float collected nearly 250 pounds in the hour long parade, and yes, like Cinderella, I did go to the ball. Happy days. Regards, Sue. 

In College, I planned the abduction and ransom of one of my instructors..Don’t worry, the victim was willing and it was for charity. One College dean was an immigrant from England and occasionally tried to incorporate English university ideas into our very American campus. usually the ideas flopped. But one idea that worked was to take our annual Animal House day celebration and turn in something useful for charity......An Americanized version of the British Rags mentioned in previous posting. A formal Parade was not involved, and most of the events were held at a large park which bordered the campus.The idea was that the normal hijinks and mischief would take place, but money would be collected for charity. One of my Instructors was one of those individuals to whom God had been very good. She was about 33 Years old and drop dead beautiful. Blonde, and although the facial features were different,very Michelle Pffieferesque.As if this wasn’t enough she had a mind to match her looks. The fact that she at that age had gotten a college post in the very competitive academic market showed how smart she was.I don’t know her IQ but s couple of times I noted she was carrying a copy of the MENSA Newsletter. There was one area in which God had not been kind. She was terribly nearsighted, and hated contact lenses. She wore large steel frame glasses. To me this actually added to her appeal..And on top of this, she had a warm, outgoing personality which made it impossible to hate her for all the above good luck.Impossible, except for her fellow instructors. Anyone who’s been to college and heard their professors in unguarded moments knows how cutthroat. academic politics are. I think that because Dr. Jones (very fictitious name for the above instructor) had gotten the post at an early age caused resentment. And her extreme good looks caused of course rumors that she got the post by sleeping her way to the top. This was nonsense. It was a State university and all positions were filled by an board, not an individual. And her credentials were impeccable. Magna Cum Laude from a major university, Straight 4.0 average. awards, etc.But jealousy and malice can always overcome logic and common sense. 

Getting Tied Up In My Studies

This story is unusual in that it has already been published. It dates from my final year at University, where I was studying joint honours English and Sociology. (As usual all names and places have been heavily disguised.) 

I had to carry out a small research project as part of my sociology course. For most students, this involved burying themselves in the library for two weeks, then writing an analysis of something. A few would do some experimental work, usually a preference questionnaire or interview applied to a cross-section of other students. Fewer still would attempt some form of field research, as this was considered to be the riskiest option. 

There had been some items in the news about the apparent unwillingness of members of the public to take action when they witnessed a crime or other public incident. I wanted to set up a scenario in which someone was clearly in trouble and see who would intervene. 

(You will have worked out by now that it was me who was going to be the one in trouble.) The actual scenario was inspired by Barrington, my local open-all-hours shopkeeper, who was fulminating about a recent spate of shoplifting and what he would like to do to the perpetrators if he caught them. Barrington was a tall and very sweet but rather intimidating-looking black man. He was born and brought up in Brixton (and had the accent to go with it), of Jamaican parents. 

Barrington and I set up our experiment early one Monday morning before his shop opened. I had also enlisted the services of Janet, my old schoolfriend, who was at the same university, as photographer, sound recodist and note-taker. (Three other ladies were also involved, but I'll introduce them later.) I was cast in the role of a shoplifter caught red-handed by Barrington and apparently subjected to his home-grown justice. I was tied to an old upright wooden chair next to the end of the shop counter. I was wearing my usual outdoor clothing of the period (jeans, sweater, a slightly grubby black leather jacket and Dr Martens boots) as if I'd been out shopping. (I was also wearing leather gloves to protect my wrists.) 

I was tied to the chair with cotton sash cord, which was the only rope I could find easily in quantity. I was tied up thoroughly but not too uncomfortably. My body was bound to the chair back with ropes hitched to the top of the chair, going over my shoulders, crossing in front of my chest and tied off to the sides of the chair back. More ropes went round my waist and over my lap. My wrists were tied together behind the chair back. My legs were tied to the front legs of the chair at ankle and just below knee level. To complete the scene, I was cleave gagged with a bright red cotton bandana. A shopping bag was left on the floor beside me. 

Janet hid a microphone and portable cassette recorder on a shelf above my chair and loitered in the shop as if she was another customer. 

The shop opened at 7.00a.m. for people on their way to work to buy newspapers or tobacco. The reactions were varied. About half of the customers ignored me. About a quarter asked Barrington why I was tied up and most accepted his explanation that I had been caught shoplifting. A few of of them remonstrated with him, saying things like, "You can't do that in this country, you know." One or two congratulated Barrington on his direct approach. The remaining quarter were a mixed bag of rather more concerned reactions. Some spoke to me directly and said comforting things like, "We'll soon get you free, my dear." Two said they were going for the police. (The police had been already been approached by us and knew what was going on, but told us later that no-one had actually called them.) The remainder demanded that Barrington release me immediately, which he refused to do. No-one at all took the obvious direct action of untying me or even ungagging me. 

At 9.00, as soon as there was a moment that the shop was empty, Barrington and Janet moved my chair (with me still on it) into the store room behind the counter. Janet then untied me. I used the toilet and stretched and loosened up while Janet changed the audio cassette. 

Stage 2 of the experiment started next. Barrington's 20 year old daughter Leah (also a student) had volunteered to be the second subject. She was a year or two younger than me and wearing slightly less shabby clothes but the main difference was, of course, that she was black. As our agreed "shift" in the chair was 2 hours, I was concerned about her comfort, so Janet and I applied a less strict tie up to Leah than had been used on me. Leah was wearing a black skirt and sweater with a blue denim jacket on top. She was also wearing knee length black leather boots. At my insistence, she borrowed my gloves to protect her wrists. We tied her hands in front of her and tied her legs together at ankle and knee. We tied her to the chair with rope going over her lap and round her waist and chest. She provided us with a large cotton handkerchief to use as a gag. Once we had her tied securely, we waited for a quiet moment then carried her out into the shop. 

Leah's spell in the chair lasted from 9.30 to 11.30. Perhaps predictably the mix of reactions was different. A higher proportion of people ignored Leah, slightly more expressed approval to Barrington, some quite strongly, and nobody at all spoke directly to her. The only untoward reaction was from one of Leah's friends who happened to come into the shop, did a double take, and collapsed in helpless laughter. 

Stage 3 had Barrington's mother in the hot seat. She was normally extremely smartly turned out, but had dressed down for her role as captured shoplifter in an old beige duffel coat over brown trousers tucked into short brown sheepskin boots, a rather worn chocolate brown woolly hat and matching mittens (probably all bought from a charity shop for the occasion). Her frizzy grey hair and round wire-framed spectacles completed the image of a slightly bewildered elderly lady. Our immediate problem was that Barrington's mother was a very generously proportioned woman and would probably not be comfortable on the quite small chair we had been using. After some rummaging in the back premises Barrington produced a battered old dining chair with arms. It had a broken seat but was still usable. We used fairly minimal bindings on Barrington's mother, partly for comfort, partly I think out of respect. We tied her arms down to the chair arms with rope round her forearms rather than her wrists, the thick coat still keeping it secure. We tied her ankles to the chair legs and tied ropes round her chest and upper arms just above elbow level and below her (rather ample) bosom. We finished off with a few turns of rope over her lap and under the chair seat. Finally, we gagged her with a rather tatty old woollen scarf which she had brought with her for the purpose. 

Barrington's mother was on duty from 12.00 to 2.00p.m. Again (and again perhaps predictably) the range of public reactions shifted. As before, the majority ignored her. There was limited approval for Barrington's supposed actions but a lot of comments about dotty old ladies shoplifting, some of them very unkind. There were surprisingly no threats to call the police. The only customer to speak directly to Barrington's mother delivered an appalling diatribe against "immigrants who come to Britain to rip us off". 

At 2.00, we took Barrington's mother into the back room and untied her. She was fascinated at the range of reactions she had experienced and said she was really glad to have helped, even though she was a bit stiff afterwards. 

The final volunteer was my supervisor from the University. Dr MacLeod is a tiny and very bouncy Scotswoman in her late 50's at that time. She loved the idea behind my experiment, possibly just because it was nice to have a student who didn't take the safest option available. When she arrived Dr MacLeod was wearing a kaftan and a shawl (academics are allowed to dress oddly), but carrying a bag which she explained was her "costume". The costume was perfect; she emerged from the staff toilet at the back of the shop in a smart grey tweed coat with black tights, black patent court shoes, black leather gloves and a huge shiny black handbag. She had pinned her usually unruly mop of wavy grey (nearly white) hair into the semblance of a permed hair-do and was wearing her half-moon reading glasses. She was every inch a rather proper middle class lady out shopping. 

We tied Dr MacLeod to the same chair we had used for Barrington's mother using a similar tie up. We tied her forearms down to the chair arms and tied a long rope round her chest and upper arms and one over her lap. We decided that dressed as she was, Dr MacLeod would look more dignified with her ankles tied together rather than to the chair legs. We also tied her legs just below knee level, with the rope tied above the hem of her coat. Dr MacLeod provided a floral print artificial silk scarf as a gag, which was also neatly in keeping with the rest of her outfit. 

Dr MacLeod did the 2.30 to 4.30 shift. We couldn't have asked for more public response. Very few people ignored her. Most asked Barrington what was going on. Many became very aggressive towards him and one rushed out to find a policeman (actually coming back with a traffic warden as second-best). For the first time, we had to tell people that it was all a set-up and twice had to ungag Dr MacLeod so she could tell them too. 

Dr MacLeod had also arranged some publicity. Just before it was time to untie her, a reporter and photographer from the local paper arrived and also a television camera crew from the local ITV company. Dr MacLeod was photgraphed and filmed tied up in her "little old lady" persona. At the request of the press I was re-tied and sat alongside Dr MacLeod, even though that hadn't been part of the experiment. Finally we were interviewed together once we were untied and Dr MacLeod had changed back into "civvies". We made two columns on an inside page of the next day's local paper and the very last slot on the local television news programme (reserved for humorous, lightweight or downright weird items). 

So my conclusions as I wrote them up were unsurprising if disturbing. A young black woman in cheap clothes who had been tied up as a shoplifting suspect was largely assumed to be guilty and her captor congratulated on taking the law into his own hands. A young white woman faired only slightly better. An old black woman in shabby clothes was assumed to be deranged. A smart elderly middle class white woman apparently tied up by a black shopkeeper provoked public outrage. The evidence provided to Barrington's customers was the same in every case, only the "shoplifters" fitted different sterotypes. Thought provoking. 

Janet and I spent the evening developing and printing photographs she had taken during the day and then mounting some of them on a big display poster together with a description of the experiment. This poster went up in Barrington's shop window the next morning to allay any remaining public fears about him. Cuttings from the morning paper were also on display. 

I said this story had already been published. A version, in more academic language, must be gathering dust on a University libary bookshelf to this day. If you visit Canuck's site regularly, you probably know enough about me by now to date this event to within a year or two, and you know I'm British, but I'm not going to tell you which Univeristy to look in. (And I've planted some disinformation in the story to protect the innocent.) 

So far the only mishap in the kidnapping was that Dr.Jones Glasses had fallen off at one point. One of her kidnappers had caught them before they hit the ground and decided to hold them for Dr.Jones.One of her female captors gently took her by the arm and guided her to the classroom. (Yes her eyesight without her glasses was really that bad.If we were really kidnapping her we wouldn’t have to blindfold her; just taking off her glasses would do the job just as well.) As soon as our captive was securely tied to her chair we put her glasses back on her and she was well and truly kidnapped. At this point the rest of the member of the student association went into action. in the rehearsal a photo had been taken of Dr;jones bound and gagged to her chair. Photographer on the college newspaper had printed it and blown the photo up so that Several poster now went up with a student standing by them with a bucket.The caption stated “ If you want to see Dr;Jones in one piece again contribute to her Ransom, All ransom money going to charity.” The buckets begun to fill. (In the two years she had taught there Dr. Jones had become a student favorite-and not just because of her looks.) Now the dean came in to the building and requested to see the prisoner. He had been told of the abduction but had not quite expected the Stephen Spielberg-James Cameron production we had made of it. He was shown in, Dr. Jones ungagged and she assured the dean she was a voluntary captive, the circulation in her wrists was fine. being tied to a chair was not the most comfortable position in the world but it was all for a good cause.,etc.etc.etc. Reassured the dean left, mumbling something about he would never understand wither American students or professors, and allowed the kidnapping to go on. For most of the rest of her captivity Dr. Jones was left ungagged. The only time we retaped her mouth was when the College paper came in for more photos. BY now the initial count of money seemed to indicate we had the competing groups slaughtered. The only real competition was a dunking tank where for a dollar you could try to dunk a professor, and it wasn’t even close. The head of the theater department came in looked on the captive, congratulated us on our sense of theater, and said he would be glad to have un help in the theater program. At noon, one of Dr. Jones friends ordered a couple of pizzas sent up in best Dog Day Afternoon style.We untied Dr. Jones hands for lunch. One of the kidnappers (ok, guilty), couldn’t resist doing the Al Pacino “Attica,Attica”bit from Dog Day Afternoon.Dr;Jones hands were retied and about two o clock we decided it was time to free the captive, our fund raising victory assured. We regagged Dr.Jones,lifted Dr. Jones chair, took it out to in front of the building, announced the ransom had been paid, and untied her. We raised over a thousand dollars for charity.. 

Money for Old Rope

I went to University in 1972. Within a few days of going up for the Autumn term, I was delighted to meet Janet, who had also picked the same University. We teamed up immediately and set about getting to know our new home town together. We both still had our shared interest in magic, and toyed with the idea of putting on a proper show together. We never got around to it for various reasons. 

We did continue to practise together. Janet and I have rather different interests in magic. She is a close-up specialist with long nimble fingers and can do incredible things with cards and coins right under your nose. My interest is more in big illusions. I don't need the sheer speed that Janet's magic needs, just strength and dexterity, but I'm much more dependent on fancy props, which are time consuming to make - or expensive to buy. (Actually, I get more enjoyment out of inventing tricks than I do from performing them.) We had fun together and just occasionally took our magic out into the big wide world. 

We sometimes busked on street corners, but our best venues were the many pubs around the University. Our standard procedure was to go into a pub (in costume), march up to the bar and ask if we could do a little magic in the corner. Once we had developed a bit of a reputation, they almost always said, "Yes." We usually did a little juggling together, then Janet would do some card tricks. My favourite illusion to finish off with was this escape... 

Pray silence for Jan (the tall one with the curly hair) and Jill (the short one with the big spectacles): 

Jill holds up a ten-foot rope. 

Ladieeez and Gennelmen! The late, great Harry Houdini could escape from anything anybody could do to him. This is one of his tricks. Please watch very carefully. I need two big strong men to help me. You, sir... and you, sir!

Now each of you take one end of the rope... that's right. Pull it out straight... give them some room please, Ladies and Gentlemen. That's very good.

Now you two volunteers are going to tie me up. Watch while I show you what to do.

Now I want you to tie my wrists here, at the narrowest point - just below this knobbly bit here? OK?

This is going to be a proper reef knot - I'm too young to be a granny. OK, left over right first.

Well that's not much of a challenge! Pull it tight! Put your backs into it!

Better. Now, we have a problem here. I need another volunteer. You, sir?

Now, sir, put your finger on the knot so it doesn't come undone as we finish it off.

That's really very good. Do you do this for a living?

Now, you two, let's get this knot finished off. Left over right then right over left - remember? OK that's good, now pull it tight, but mind his finger. Good, now, one last really, really hard pull. Brilliant.

Ladies and Gentlemen, that's one of the best reef knots I've ever seen. A big hand for our volunteers please!

Those were the days. How did I do it? Easy - while I was pointing at my wrist showing the volunteers where to tie them, I stole a couple of inches of slack with the third and fourth fingers of my left hand and jammed it between the heels of my hands. No amount of pulling will move that loop, so I could let them tie the knot as tight as they wished. All I had to do to get free was to pull my hands apart. 

Harry Houdini really did invent that trick by the way. 

Part 1 of 2 This story took place when I was 16. I went to a ten day co-ed summer camp in the Montana Rocky Mountains. Although it was summer, the daytime temp. never got above 55 degrees. Of the ten days it rained or drizzled for five of them. With the weather bad we spent most of our time in our four person cabins or in the mess hall. I met this girl, Nicky, and we really hit it off well. We spent all our time together doing the what few activities together we could with the inclement weather. Nicky was medium height with a fairly shapely figure and shoulder length brown hair. By the third day we had become very close. We were fooling around together that night and slipped back into our cabins after the 11:00 PM curfew. The next day we planned to again see each other after curfew, however we were not going to sneak back to our cabins but camp over night together away from everyone. That night it was very cold and the weather report said that it could possible snow. The camp councilors were going to show two movies in the mess hall to try to keep everyone entertained. This would be the only time Nicky and I could slip away unnoticed. During the day we found a two person tent in the equipment shed and stashed it behind a dumpster. I had a day back pack with a little food and water and some other necessities. Everything was all set. Nicky and I walked together with the rest of the camp, around 75 people, down to the mess hall at about 6:30. Ten minutes after the movie started, "Pink Panther," Nicky left and told her councilor that she was tired and wanted to go back to her cabin. I left by saying I needed to use the restroom. I stepped outside into the cold and walked up to find Nicky standing outside her cabin ready to go. She was wearing a heavy wool turtleneck sweater that covered her behind, jeans and hiking boots. I also wore a heavy sweater, jeans and boots. Nicky and I hiked about twenty minutes up a trail that was rarely used, however we should have been smarter then that to use any trail at all. We set up the tent and moved in. We were very nervous about both breaking the rules and also the strong possibility of having sex for the first time. After about 30 minutes we calmed down, but no sooner did we begin to kiss then one of the camp councilors ripped open the tent and blinded us with his flashlight. We were caught by three councilors and told to get out of the tent. "Look what we have here!" said the head female camp councilors, "a little romance. We have rules and you have broken them. There is to be no romantic or sexual relationships while you are at this camp. Plus, you have stole from the equipment shed. And you are outside camp grounds without approval from us." We were in big trouble. Nicky and I stood side-by-side wonder what was going to happen. She continued, "What should we do? Standard punishment is a ban from the remained of camp activities, but this a not standard. These two deserve to be made an example of. Tie them up and gag them." CONTINUED.... 

When I was in college in VA. I found a Female friend who I got very close to. We spent lots of time getting to know each other and sharing secrets. One night after much wine, we began trading fantasies and for me that meant bondage. She said she had tied up some boys when she was growing up that she used to babysit. She had used it as a technique to keep them quiet and out of her hair. But, she said, she thought it would still work on a 19 year old male. I said great. She only had one other proviso: that we also incorporate something she wanted to do. I asked what? She said, not until we're going to do the bondage and then no questions. I agreed and we met for a session the next weekend. I was to supply the rope she would supply the place. She rented a large apartment with a living room, bedroom, kitchen, bath and a changing room between the bath and bedroom. When i arrived, she told me what I would have to do: she had always wanted to tie up another woman...and I was to be her. I balked at this idea, but had thought all week about the bondage so i agreed. No sex was to be involved just the dressing and bondage. She did my makeup and polished my nails and toes and said she had laid out clothes. in ther bedroom were panties and pantihose, heels with open toes and a long green oriental style dress. She was a little taller than me and very small breasted so the dress fit. She then told me to go into the changing room. She had placed a mat on the floor and told me to lie down on it. In the dress and heels it was hard to get there!! She pulled my hands behind my back and crossed the wrists and tied a figure 8 loop and knot around them. Next she tied my ankles together with about 10 feet of rope and then around my knees. Then she drew the ankles up into a hogtie and secured them so i could just get my fingers on the heels of the shoes. Finally she gagged me with a scarf and tape. She left me that way and said if I could get free I could tie her up. I had no chance her bondage was too good so she finally freed me with the agreement that we would play again. Of course we did 

Once I helped burn my future wife at the stake at a Renaissance Fair. Jennifer(my future Wife) and I used to take part in a local Renaissance Fair.We were both 25 at the time. We had fun but had one problem: not enough historical realism. Everything was light and gay, a Disney kind of history and some of us wanted to present the darker side of the 16th and 17th centuries. We sat around one day thinking of how we could do this when we heard a shout of Burn the Witch! Burn the Witch! We saw a girl wearing a fake long nose being dragged along by a mob. Needless to say they were doing the (very funny) Burn the Witch sequence from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” That gave us an idea. What if we were to do a dead serious version of a witch trial.? Soon a friend of ours who shall be called Dave for this story overheard us. Dave choreographed the swordfights at our Renfair, and his main line of work was as a stunt man and FX guy for stage and television. He had worked and done stunts for several famous TV Series. He told us how he could use some effects to safely burn a witch at the stake, so soon we talking about both a trial and execution. We couldn’t do it that fair but at the one next year..... When Fair time rolled around the year after one of the fair directors who agreed with our desire to inject some realism into the fair got approval for our little skit. Dave donated some equipment and his expertise.From the beginning Jennifer had more or less cast herself as the victim. Jennifer had been a athlete in college so she had was in good shape which would be necessary as a safety measure. She was over six feet which made her good from a spectator’s standpoint. And she was visually right as a young accused witch. We did our homework. The Witch hysteria has been a favorite of medieval and renaissance historians, and a lot of the court records are available in print. But in the end we swiped a lot from Arthur Miller’s great play on the Salem Witch trials“The Crucible” If you’re going to steal, steal from the best. We did a rewrite on some scenes from Miller’s work and added some 16th century material. There was a post on the site that we decided would do fine as the stake. A couple of nights before the day of the trial, we held rehearsals. Dave set up his material and tested it. Jennifer was tied to the stake (Detailed description when we reach the real thing) and rehearsed an emergency escape although the chances of that were being necessary were small. We took the faggots of wood to be used as props and soaked them with water. We did this for two nights in row and again on the day of the trial. We also turned the area around the stake into a muddy morass. When you read about the effects you will realize this was against a remote possibility. But better to be safe then sorry. The Day of the skit Jennifer dressed in a standard peasant dress-although it was historically accurate peasant dress unlike most of those at the fair.A long dress, shirt, and bodice..I was dressed in Middle class garb-I was to be one of her judges. Before the fair opened Dave made a final check of the equipment . The dripping wet faggots were brought out and piled around the stake. We were betting no one would notice that the faggots were wet-and it was hard to tell unless you were up close. Some fair guards were posted to keep people away. About eleven o clock, the fun began Jennifer walked out with her basket doing a great impression of a peasant girl out to do a little shopping. Already of a sudden another girl jumped out, pointed at her and screamed “She is the One! She is the one who bewitched our cow so it gives no milk”! Two fair guards jumped out and grabbed Jennifer pulled her wrists together behind her,, tied them together,and dragged her off. Jennifer yelled loudly, and some of the fair participants crowded around and begun saying “Witch! Witch!”All this was to attract the paying public.Jennifer was dragged with her hands bound all throughout the fair and when they reached where I and the other judges were waiting we had about a hundred people in the audience and more coming up all the time. I won’t go into detail on the trial. Jennifer was accused of witchcraft by three witnesses:The girl who made the initial accusation that led to her arrest; another one accused her of causing her mother to be sick, and a third who laid down the big one: Jennifer’s character had taken her to the witches Sabbat and tried to make her sell her soul to the Devil.The testimony of the last was taken almost word for word from “The Crucible”. It was pretty ludricious but the sickening thing was that thousands of people died in the Witch Mania on this kind of testimony. We took pains to insure that the accusations were based on actual testimony. As the climax we judges decided to test Jennifer to see if she had a witches mark on her. Jennifer has a small discoloration on her left upper arm. We rolled up her sleeve, pointed on it, crossed ourselves, and declared this was proof beyond doubt She was a witch. The sad thing was this was a damn accurate portrayal of legal procedure in witch trials. The sentence was that she be immediately burned at the stake--and may God have mercy on her soul. Jennifer was dragged off on another round of the fair to get an even bigger audience. Dave ran over and made a final check of the stake to see all was in place. Finally Jennifer was dragged around the corner and came into sight of the stake. Jennifer had decided not to scream and yell, she felt sobbing and trying to create a air of her character being in Shock and not fully realizing what was to happen would be more effective. Sobbing, she was dragged to the piles of faggots, pulled over them and placed next to the stake. Her hands were briefly untied, pulled behind the stake, and retied. Another long length of cord was used to tied her body right below the breasts to the stake. Another length of roped secured her waist of the stake. Two more lengths of rope tied her knees and her ankles to the stake. Finally a knotted cloth was used to cleave gag her. The gag was historically accurate. People condemned to the stake for witch craft often were gagged to A. Prevent them pronouncing any curses on their judges and B. To spare the spectators their screams of agony. Weird mentality: the sight of someone dying in agony was okay but their screams were distressing. .... We let Jennifer twist and turn in her bonds and sob through her gag for a few minutes to allow an even bigger crowd. to gather. Finally the time to “light the fires” had come.Dave had a hood on his head as the executioner. A word of warning. Dave was and is a professional. He is good enough to be hired by television and professional theater groups to do his work. Unless you have someone of similar experience don’t try this at home-or at you local small renaissance fair. Dave had placed several containers of dried ice in among the faggots. When activated the dried ice makes a vapor that looks like smoke. This is very much a standard stage technique.In the front of the pile of faggots he had placed a steel box with some propane jets in it. Once again this is a standard technique for producing flames on stage and in television. Dave and a couple of other executioners had flares that had been disguised to look like torches. They went around the wet faggots and pretended to touch the faggots while activating the dried ice creating “smoke”. Finally Dave set off the propane torches so that their was a small area of actual flame--but controlled. Two guards stood as close as possible to Jennifer with cloaks on-and Fire extinguishers under their cloaks. (They were off duty firemen. We had cleared this whole thing with the fire department). It looked very real. Jennifer was twisting in her ropes and making horrible noises that the gag could not completely stifle.(The gag had been made a little loose exactly for that effect.) The flames seemed to be rising and dry ice smoke was rising in several areas. Jennifer seemed doomed. All of a sudden a voice shouted “Halt in the Queen’s Name!” Out came the royal bailiff of our fair and we could hear-on cue-the royal procession coming up. Dave threw a bucket of water near the propane flames while reaching down to turn them off. Other executioners and guards doused the dry ice smoke. Jennifer continued to twist and sob. The royal procession came up and the Queen asked what the hell was going on. The actual statement was in fair speak. “I pray thee sirrah, how does thou presume to pass judgment without my royal consent?” You know, the gawdawful phony combination of pseudo Shakespeare and Pseudo King James Version of the Bible English that is Renssaince Fair speak. The upshot was that the Queen examined the evidence, found it wanting, and ordered Jennifer set free. The person playing the Queen like to present her as an enlightened Monarch. It was a damn effective skit . It was probably just as well we put in a deux de machina happy ending rather than a more realistic conclusion. As it was the skit was not repeated, a few of the fair directors felt it was too strong. Jennifer and I still go to the fairs in costume but no longer as official participants. We;ve found better things to do Like the American Civil War and I’ve a couple of stories about bondage in the Blue and he Gray to tell also....

I have just been through a fraternity pledge initiation which I considered to be a my first real bondage experience. I am pledging a service fraternity on my college campus and when I and the other pledge were allowed into the room in the building in which our pledge initiation was taking place, we were asked whether either of us had a problem with placing our trust in our fraternity brothers, we both said that we had no problem in doing that. We were then blindfolded and we had our hands cuffed behind our backs and they then began to read the history of our fraternity. We were told that the cuffs and blindfold were to insure that we focused on what we were being told and so that we would not beable to do anything else. At the end of the reading we were taken from the room by one of the older brothers and taken to another room so that we could "Think about the vow and pledge we were about to take to our fraternity when we arrived in the room that we were taken to we were seated in what must have been straight back chairs and I felt a set of leg irons being locked around my ankles which seemed to be hanging from a horizontal support bar of the chair, we were told that in our helpless state that the older brothers wanted to insure that we would not try to get up and move around and hurt ourselves while we were contemplating. They left us both that way for about 30 to 45 minutes. When they came to get us the leg irons were removed but the cuffs and blindfold remained in place, we were taken back to the room in which the initiation was taking place and we were asked if we understood what they were asking of us as pledges and did we wish to go on we both said yes and we were released from our cuffs and blindfolds and we were then sworn to secrecy as to our vow and our ritual P.S. I sort of got off on what happened and would like to know if this type of thing has happened to any other pledges of sororities or fraternities I can be reached at my e-mail address if anyone else who has had similar situations happen to them in college

Hello, folks. I wanted to share a genuine true story with you. This actually happened a few days ago, and I really enjoyed it! My new acquaintance--girlfriend perhaps in time--has a roommate that isn't. This woman simply crashes in her tiny studio apartment a few nights a week, doesn't pay rent, and doesn't really belong there. She's quite annoying, particularly since she eats my friend's groceries without paying, etc. My friend is a very beautiful woman, 21, and quite muscular. She was on an NCAA rowing team until last season, and has sufficient upper body strength to, well, get what she wants. I have a good hint what that can mean... Karri, the roommate who ought not to be, was generally being a brat while we were talking on the phone. She was throwing pillows at my friend, interrupting her (and me) while we were planning a date. I was getting pretty fed up, and so was my soon-to-be date! I groaned a couple of times when Karri started carrying on, and asked politely at one point to tell her to shut up. It had no effect. In the course of talking, somehow--I don't know how--the subject of tickling came up. She asked if I was ticklish. I am, very! Then she commented, "Karri's ticklish!" Offhandedly, I said,"Why don't you tickle her.!" My friend was ecstatic! "Really? CAN I?" I didn't see where I needed to give permission, but I jokingly said, "Yes, ma'am." What followed was pretty incredible. Karri's voice cold be heard nattering on for a moment, then, she screamed. From the way she screamed, I could tell she was relly sensitive, and totally helpless. My friend filled in the details later. Karri was wearing a sweatshirt and stirrup pants. My friend grabbed her and madhandled her onto the couch. She forced her leg onto Karri's legs, pinning her on her back. She started tickling Karri's stomach. Eventually, with all the thrashing, Karri's sweatshirt went up around her bosom. Then, to keep her from grabbing and scratching, the sweatshirt went over her head, catching up her arms completely. Also, her bra was exposed. She screamed all the while. I caught the words, "Oh, I feel so violated!" at one point. My friend had her totally hysterical with laughter by then, so she could grip her leg and tickle the bare foot in Karri's stirrup pants. Karri howled until she was winded, and actually couldn't yell anymore. Obviously there was a lull, because a weak voice pleaded for rest. Then the howls started again. Apparently Karri got an arm free and struck my friend. "Ow, you little bitch!" Karri was actually turned over at that point, under the stress of laughing hysterically. Then she actually got a spanking! My friend had her over her knee, holding her arms above her head with the stretched sweatshirt. All I could hear was the worst carrying on imaginable. The swats were audible, and after each one, Karri let out a requisite scream! Then, for a closing blow, her stirrup pants were pulled down. Not very far, she struggled like mad at that point, and my friend was getting tired. Karri got a few on her pantied bottom, though. For finality, as Karri stood up and wriggled into her sweatshirt again, she got the strap for her bra pulled like a slingshot and snapped against her back! When my 'date' got back on the phone, I was in shock, and in no position to stand up! She gave me the details, concluding that, "Karri ran to the bathroom the second I let her go. I was tickled by my boyfriend and his friends in high school once, for a half hour. That's why I'm not ticklish anymore. And I know I really had to pee when they let me go! True story. I am very likely interested in light bondage, tickling, etc. If you have similar stories, I'll look forward to reading them here. Also, please e-mail me at loganrusch@mailexcite.com I'm 23, 6'0 and probably quite submissive. And my maybe-maybe not girlfriend may read along, too!

It was my freshman year of college and I was really interested in getting into a certain sorority. (I won't mention the name to protect them...) We were told to be at the house at 7:00 for our initation. I got there promptly at 7, and as soon as I walked in the door I was gagged and blindfolded. It happened so quickly I didn't even notice who it was. I was told that this was all part of the initiation, that there was nothing to worry about. I figured this was just part of one big game, but then I was led into another room of the house. We were kind of pushed into chairs, and loosely tied to the arms and legs of this chair. Our blindfolds were taken off,and I noticed that there were only 6 other girls in the room with me. The president of the sorority house began to speak and probably spoke for the next hour. When she completed her speech, I had a question about the housing, and began mmmphhing through my gag. The president said "OH, I see that we have a little rebel in our midst." I began mmmphhing again to show her that my intent was only a question, but she motioned to two girls standing by the door, and all at once I was being blindfolded and then carried to another room of the house. This time I was scared. This was obviously a punishment. I was left bound, blindfolded, and gagged in that room for about five minutes, and that's when the president came in. Speaking harshly to the now three "guards" who were in the room, I heard her say "Tie her up. Tight. Lock her in here and leave her till morning. Then we'll see what she has to say." I heard the door close, and then three people pushing me on to the floor. Uh-oh. I was in big trouble now. They were obviously prepared for this, and had many ropes, chains, ties, tape, and locks to keep me contained. In the end, I was put in a pretty tight hogtie, blindfolded, gagged, which was then covered in duck tape. Then my bonded body was tied to a bed post and I was left. By this time it was about 9:30, and as I figured it, I had about 12 hours to go. After wriggling for awhile, I found it hopeless and went to sleep. The next morning, I was awoken with a nice cold glass of water on the face, and untied. I was still gagged and blindfolded, and I was brought downstairs, into a basement. They took off my blindfold, and I could see other girls as well. Many were gagged as I was. We were told that we were inductees to the sorority house, and there was only two more things that we had to do to get in. We all groaned, and they told us what was left for us. One was to go through that old ritual of being spanked, saying "more, please", but it wouldn't be bad, they said. And the last was to attend a party congratulating ourselves. Phew. All I had to do was get hit in the rear twice. No prob. I was first to get the treatment, and I was dragged over to a weird little contraption. I was laid down on top of a bar, so that my rear would kind of be in the air. Then my hands were handcuffed, and then the handcuffs were chained to a ring in the ground. The same with my legs. With a paddle, they swatted me twice, (didn't hurt at all...)and then I was released to go change into my honorary toga for the party. 

When I was in college I played hockey as a goalie. One game I was hit in the head by a slapshot. I went to the locker room, but returned the next period, despite a slight concussion. After the game I walked out of the arene and a slim, blonde haired girl approached me. "Good game."she said I thanked her and we talked for a minute and I invited her to dinner the next night. We coninuted to see each other for a few weeks. She invited me to her house and so I went over and walked into her apartment which was lite only by candlelight. I called her name and she answered from her bedroom. I walked in a got the shock of my life. She was standing in front of wearing leather from head to toe. I was speechless. She walked over to me and told me to give her my hands. Stiil in shock I obeyed. She handcuffed me and and attached the handcuffs to a chain hanging from the roof."What are you doing" I asked. "Taming a wild animal" She than stuck a rag in my mouth and then held it in with a scarf. With my arms over my head I was helpless to stop her from spanking me until I called her goddess. After that she made me her slave I had to do everythinng she ordered. I was hers that night but after it we never met again. Jake 

One of my sorority mates showed me this site a few months ago..I think it was September, just before classes started. The reason she showed it to me was to, I guess, to show me that all this tie up stuff was pretty common. I was pretty surprised to see it was true. I thought this stuff happened to girls on detective shows and to, maybe, rich girls with daddy’s who had lot’s for ransom. Anyway, with her assurance, I agreed to participate in a video she wanted to make about me being kidnapped. This project was for a film studies class, but I was a bit hesitant because she wanted this to appear real. She also wanted this to be somewhat sexy. Why she thinks I am the right one for this I’ll never be sure. She said it was because I’m sexy in the way I dress. She loves that I have really great legs (I must admit, I do) and I show them off. (Which is also true.) I especially love to wear black opaque tights (nothing makes your legs look better than black tights.) I often dress in short skirts, black tights and black knee-high leather boots. To me this is an understated but very sexy outfit. Plus my boots and tights are so comfortable. Anyway, to the point. To make this video realistic, she said she was not going to tell me when the "kidnapping" was to take place. Oh god, this made me quite nervous for several days. As each day passed, I thought how inconvenient and kinda disruptive it would be to get kidnapped. But I guess that was part of the plan. It happened one morning when I went to buy coffee at the local coffee hang out. Sure enough, I was wearing my usual black miniskirt, black Calvin Klein Tights (my faves) and my black Robert Clergerie high heeled boots when a boy approached me. This was out the back entrance where there is a wooded path to the campus. It was early and I forgot all about the video. Anyway, he grabs me and puts his hand over my mouth. I next see my friend, Jill, with her video camera so I immediatley knew what was happening. But I wasn’t happy. I really needed to get to the library to study. But it was not to be. Instead, this boy and Jill dragged me to a rented van. The door opens and they throw me in. All they did for my comfort was to throw a blanket down on the hard, steel floor. The boy then tells me to shut up, or something like that. Well, I didn’t. I was pissed. I didn’t need this now. So I started to scream. He then, to my incredible amazment, gagged me! He stuffed some cloth into my mouth and then tied a huge white rag in between my lips very tightly. I was really screaming. Even with the gag, I thought I was making noise. But I guess it just was a low muffled kind of sound because no one came to my rescue. Then I had my wrists tied behind my back with, I found out later, stockings. He also tied my knees and ankles. He used several stockings for my ankles on account of my boots. Then they closed the door and we drove off. Jill kept taping me. I was so tied up and gagged I couldn’t get out. I knew that. So I just laid there. Finally, we reached one of the old gym. (It was abandoned in favor of the new one build last year. This one is going to be renovated into a classrooms.) This boy carries me, all tied up and gagged, and brings me inside to a back room. There they had a mattress on which they left me for a while. I said through my gag, "Let me go, Jill" but I think it sounded more like "mmmmph mmm mmmm!" Useless. She really did a number on me. I was really pissed off. So, they leave me there for like, it seemed, hours. I’m not sure how long it was. She says only 20 minutes but I don’t believe that. I just lay on this bed bound and gagged. I tried to wriggle off the mattress and make my way to a door but they had locked it. Then the embarrasing thing happened. I was making so much noise with my moaning in the gag that a security guard heard me. He comes in and sees this girl tied up and gagged in her pretty little boots and sweater and all and he goes ballistic. I moaned for him to ungag me, but what does he do but run out of there like he’s afraid! I couldn’t believe this. I thought it was part of the video, or I was going to get in trouble for being a part of it. I didn’t know what was happening. A few moments later there are about five security guards in there with me. One of them finally ungags me. I’m left still tied up while I explain what was going on. What do they do? They laughed! And then Jill comes in and somehow she convices them to gag me again. Which they did! And in front of all these people, I am sitting there on this dirty mattress tied up and gagged. My skirt, my sweater, my tights, all getting dirty from this gross mattress. It was horrible. Oh, there’s more but gotta go for now. 

This is a story told to me by a girlfriend. She was a member of a sorority at a small university. Six new pledges were rushing her sorority one year. One of them no one could really stand but had to be allowed to rush because her mother and grandmother were both alumni and gave money to the House. This sixth pledge fulfilled all the requirements to join and made it to the final initiation. The girls in the house did everything they could to try and get this girl thrown out, but nothing worked. The sorority was having a joint initiation with a fraternity house on campus. The huge event was held at a ski resort over Thanksgiving weekend. This initiation was the last chance to get this girl to drop out. 

Once at the resort the pledges from both houses were forced to do stupid stuff like shovel an empty parking lot of snow. Run naked, at night through the main street, but the worst was yet to come for the sixth pledge. On the night of the big barn party the pledges from both houses were rounded up and taken to the huge two room barn before the party started. It was their job to ready the barn for the senior members. The sixth female pledge was not going to be joining the party. Several girls, including the five other pledges and the girl that told me this story, took this sixth pledge to the back room of the barn and forced her to lie on her stomach. The singled out pledge was wearing a black cashmere turtleneck with a off-white big oversized cableknit turtleneck sweater over it, black heavy wool leggings and a pair of sheepskin Ugg boots. The other pledges used rope to tie her hands behind her back, crossing her wrists and binding them in several directions. Being somewhat caring, they tied the rope over her mittens, but still tied her pretty tight. By order of a senior sorority girl the pledges blindfolded her with her own cashmere scarf. More rope was use to tie her elbows together, forcing her elbows to almost touch and her breasts to push forward. The pledge was sorta laughing, not realizing the seriousness of her situation. The girl in charge of the pledges took it upon herself to bind the knees and ankles of the girl, rapping rope around above and below her knees and then cinching it tight. Her ankles were bound in the same fashion. The pledge rolled around in the hay asking blindly what was going on and saying that her fingers were tingling a little. She kept asking why she was being tied up so tight while she struggling against the rope. The sorority president realized that the young pledge was not going to stay put so she ordered one of the girls to hogtie her. The young pledge gasped at the thought. She started to kicked and it took several girls to hold her down while one tied a long piece of rope between her wrists and looped it between her legs and back between her wrists again.. With the two loose ends she pulled hard, bringing the girl's tightly bound Ugg boots up to her wrists. She tied it very tight. The young pledge could only lay there helpless. There was very little if any slack in the rope between her wrists and her ankles. She pulled at the hogtie but her struggles only made the rope around her wrist and ankles tighter. The final touch was to gag her with a bandana. 

The girls left the pledge hogtied in her huge turtleneck sweater and boots and went to the party in the next room. Several of the girls checked up on their pledge through out the night. She was left there for a very long time when finally the president of the sorority made the announcement to the group that she had something to show everyone. The big door was opened to the smaller room where the pledge remained hogtied. Everyone got a chance to see the pledge bound and gagged in a hogtie. She had been struggling with the rope, but no luck getting free. The group found her partially sitting up against a bale of hay, she had rubbed the blind fold off and could see everyone looking at her. One frat guy had a video camera and was taping the ordeal. After several minutes the girls untied the pledge and allowed her to join the party. Later it was over heard that she sorta enjoyed the experience and got together with one of the pledges from the frat house and he tied her up again. Twice in one night! 

I am 28 now and have been out of college for quite some time but I was lucky enough to have a R.A. (resident Assistant) That was into bondage and not afraid to admit it openly. Because of this I had the oppertunity to view and even participate in a few bondage adventures with some of the local co-eds. My R.A., who we will call TED (If he reads this I bet he can guess who I am)had been my friend since freshman year. on our Junior year he was the R.A. on our floor which turned out to be the party floor of this small NE coast college. The college itself was mostly male but had several female only colleges nearby. TED would allow us to have loud and abnoxious parties all through the week as long as we would allow him to join in. Many of these would be small parties consisting of only the guys from the hall (a tight nit group of friends) and as many girls as we could convince to join us in drinking games. Because of the time, I have only a few moments to share one of the quicker stories, however, I have several other yarns to spin if that is the wish of the majority. On this day (I think it was a Thursday)we had around 5 guys and 7 girls sitting around this "double" dorm room, we were all drinking a punch mix and had been switching drinking games on and off. One red head female who had become a regular of our group over the past two months had saddled up next to me two games ago. Our thighs were touching together as we sat in a circle on the floor and every so often she would casualy stroke my leg with her hand. For those who may not remember, this is the typical mating ritual shared throughout universities all over. I was feeling confident and a bit tipsy. TED took me aside during a break in the game and handed me the key to his single dorm room, telling me that he had noticed our attraction. I thought this was very magnanimous of TED and accepted. It was almost 15 minuites later that I had a chance to lead her away from my room tward TED's. This would be an oppertune time to introduce this young lady to the group. Her name was Cindy and she stood about 5'6" and was average weight (not heavy but not thin) her most attractive features were split between her face and her chest. Both would lead one to believe that plastic had been applied but were instead just natures way of teasing other females. I clearly remember a tight, soft blue sweater that exposed the middrif and a tight black mini skirt with buttons on the left thigh. Black boots finished the outfit as far as the eye could see. Cindy's red hair was dark in tint and ran smoothly over the shoulders just 6 inches below her neck. I took Cindy by the hand and led her tward TED's room and as I placed the key in the lock she exclaimed "oh my goodness, not the dungeon again" A bit perplexed, I asked Cindy what she was talking about. Cindy explained that three weeks prior she had been going into TED's room to find a friend that had needed a ride. The TV had been on and the door open a small crack.