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Saturday, 23 February 2008

Cowboys and Indians



Well after my little escapade I told him off for tying me to the bed and leaving me there, but at least he didn't bugger off to the pub. While I was all tied up to the bed post, it got me thinking about my childhood. I was a bit of a a tom boy back then much to the shame of my mother. She wanted a quiet life and for us girls to be prim and proper, and to act like little ladies (there are three of us - poor dad ). Anyway I digress.

I used to play cowboys with the local boys, but us being the girls had to be the Indians. We used to build a little camp and made wigwams out of garden canes and old sheets, and then go off exploring in the bush. If you make a lot of noise like we did, it scared the brown snakes away - they are the aggressive bastards. Or we played in the creeks looking for yabbies (crustaceans like little lobsters). The boys would then attack us with their cap guns or their spud guns, and we would fire those rubber suction tip arrows or peashooters at them in return.

Anyway I was by myself on this occasion as my sisters had gone back to the camp, when the boys came shooting out of some scrub, firing cap guns at me. I returned their fire, but only had three arrows and I couldn't hit an elephant with them, let alone the boys. They captured me, but then got bored as they didn't know what to do with me. One bright spark jumped up, and said lets tie her to a tree. Now that's when I thought the game was going a little to far.
They pulled me to a small tree and wound the rope around me, but the eldest boy Chris - we aren't all called Shane and Sheila - said that the tie was crap as I could easily pull my hands out. Stupidly, I did in front of them, which they then all agreed upon.

Chris then ordered the others to hold me fast to the tree while he would have ago. He pulled my hands behind me so that the tree was between my back and my hands, and tied them together with his lasso made from a bit of clothes line. I could feel the rope circle my wrists pulling my palms together, but then Chris played his master stroke. Instead of tying a knot, he wound the rope through cinching my palms and then tying the knot. I struggled to pull my hands out of the loops and couldn't. It was only then I realised that the little buggers were walking of to play footy leaving me. It was soon teatime though, and my mother found me, and much to my embarrassment untied me moaning about the rough boys in the neighbourhood. Dad just laughed.

So while I was tied by the scarf to the bed post, I tried to work out why I had enjoyed my experience with my guy. I think it was the feeling of helplessness and being at another persons mercy, like when I was a kid playing cowboys.
I want Peter to play more role play games with me as I cant stop playing with myself thinking of him tying me up again. I am going to have to send him off to the store and get some rope too.

Here is a lovely picture by Reno, of an Indian girl tied to a tree just like I was.

Luv E.B x

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