Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Back to School - Chapter 3 - December 17th

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Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Back to School - Chapter 3 - December 17th

Postby Bondwriter » Thu Mar 03, 2016 2:48 am

Hi there. I've eventually decided to post some stories that I've written in the last few years.
This is posted in this section for a reason. It is of course fiction, not a handbook for tugs. Fictional characters can do silly things and come out unscathed, real people much less so.
It is also very explicit. These fictional boys usually like each other and tugs, and aren't too shy about it.
I'll start with the Sweaty Tie-Up saga. I had posted the first one but can't find it in the archives.
So far, there are three completed stories in the series:
Sweaty Tie-Up in Satiny shorts, 15,000 words, which is a repost
Sweaty Tie-Up at the Football Club, 19,000 words, never before posted
Sweaty Tie-Up: Discipline School, 30,000 words

And another story is in the works.
I'll repost the first one and chapters 1&2 of the Football Club one. I'll post once a week from there.
There'll be other stories in this section too.

Sweaty Tie-up in Satiny Shorts

Chapter 1: Why stay indoors on a warm sunny afternoon?
Hi, I thought this would be a good place to tell a story that took place a while back - in the eighties. I lived in the remote suburbs of Paris. It was a sunny summer afternoon. I was just back from summer camp, having been gone two weeks, and I decided to visit my neighbours from down the street.

They enjoyed football – soccer - as I did so I thought I'd ask them if they'd play. They were three brothers, the elder, Philippe, was older than I was by a year. The two other ones, Cédric and Hervé (names changed to protect the not so innocent) were younger by two and three years. I was fourteen at the time myself, though I didn't look my age. My voice had not broken yet; though three feet lower, things had started changing a bit, if you see what I mean.

I rang the bell and Cédric came to open. We greeted quickly and I asked:

“In for playing some football?”

“Well, no sorry, Hervé and I gonna have to leave in half an hour; we're going to Steph's for the afternoon.”

Steph was my nemesis at school, and I had no intention to ask if I could tag along.

“Is Philippe in, though?”


He hesitated. I was quite eager to spend the afternoon with someone, since my own brothers were away. I wouldn't have minded playing football with Philippe, or just hanging around rather than spending an afternoon getting bored. On top of it, Philippe was quite a hot guy. He wasn't very tall, but he was rather well built. And as he wasn't a really good football player, I'd win.

Cédric let me in, and as we entered the living room, he asked his brother.

“Hey, Hervé, do you think Phil would be glad to see Grégory?”

“Hell yeah, everybody's always glad to see Grégory.”

I didn't blush, for I was quite aware of being the cute guy in school. I got offered to go out enough by girls to know this. And I had started noticing a few guys checking me out too. I just ignored the weird comment, though.

“Come with, he's in his room.”

The three of us climbed the stairs, all dressed in our football outfits. Them in green shorts, me in red. Their jerseys were yellow; mine was blue. All the gear was Adidas, and in these years, it was quite tight and shiny. I followed them inside Philippe's room, and there my jaw dropped. Not because of what Philippe wore, he was dressed as we were, his Beckenbauer shorts were black, his jersey yellow, and he wore black shoes with long yellow nylon socks; but I had never seen someone as thoroughly trussed up on a chair as Philippe was. There were neat coils of rope of three different colours wrapping him at the shoulders, chest, waist, the top of his thighs, above and below his knees, with his ankles tied to a chair rung too.

“Where did you get all this rope?” I asked.

“Philippe got it from a bin next to the climbing club,” Cédric answered, “They must have bought some new ones, so they threw out tons of them.”

I approached to get a look at the rope. It came from various batches, but there were more coils on the desk behind Philippe, whose eyes only could follow me around. As I came closer, I could see his head pinned to the chair back with two belts, one over his forehead and one over his mouth, a small cushion between his skull and the chair's slat.

We had played quite a few games with someone ending up hands tied behind the back, or tied to a tree with twine, but boy, this time it was serious business. Seeing this teen - more mature than I was, he had quite hairy legs – all powerless did cause some slight tingle inside my satiny shorts.

“Why did you gag him like this?” I wondered as I saw that there was a copious amount of tape underneath the leather belt, and probably something stuffing his mouth.

“We leave the window open, so it doesn't get too hot, and we don't want him to be heard outside.” Hervé exclaimed.

From the annoyed grunt Philippe produced, I doubted he would have really called for help even if he'd been able too.

At the same time, venting the room was a good idea, for the prisoner was sweaty, and it smelled once I leaned over him to look at the rope work. Hervé went on explaining that since Philippe had found the ropes, just after I left for summer camp, he had had them practice tying him up. So they'd gotten better, since in the beginning he always managed to escape. But as they were about to leave, they'd have to untie him because they couldn't leave him bound and gagged by himself. It sure was strange to say all these things in a very matter-of-fact way, but I just listened to him and his brother occasionally adding a detail or two.

It was Cédric who actually voiced out what I didn't dare ask: “But if you stay with him this afternoon, Grégory, maybe Philippe can keep playing the prisoner? You'd like that, wouldn't you Philippe?”

The unintelligible grunt could have meant yes or no, but it didn't stop us from interpreting it as yes anyway. “We should move him a bit, he's been tied up like this since this morning,” Hervé suggested.

“Good idea,” Cédric added. I helped a bit as the two siblings went on working on their brother, and I took in all the knots and technique I could from their expert job. Soon, Philippe was trussed up like a turkey on his belly over his bed. They had bundled him up in a tight hog tie, his hands almost reaching his crossed ankles, his knees spread wide, which gave a nice view on his round and muscular buttocks wrapped in the black nylon.

Cédric and Hervé neatly put away the left-over ropes, rolling them in tidy coils.

“OK, we gotta go, untie him a bit before five, that's when the parents should be back.”

I looked at the alarm clock on the night table. 2:30: this left me quite a little bit of time to play with Philippe. Literally.

I started by taunting him for letting his little brothers make him a prisoner, then threatening to take him to the nearby woods and leave him tied up to a tree. Then, as I came a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress, I started running my fingers along his flanks. I wasn't aware of this fact beforehand, but Philippe was ticklish. He squirmed around quite a bit, but I didn't quit.

It was fun to see him writhing and making muffled sounds only, thanks to the well-packed mouth and the sticky tape trapping the wadding. I had gone on for almost half an hour when I stopped. I put Philippe on the side. His face was all red. Years later, I was surprised to hear that tickling someone who was gagged could be dangerous, but, well, if all the stupid things I did when I was a kid had turned out for the worst, I wouldn't be here to tell you about this.

He was breathing heavily through his nose. He looked at me with pleading eyes and grunted something. He looked uncomfortable.

I decided to remove his gag to find out if there was a problem. It dawned on me that I was in charge of Philippe on all accounts. I slowly peeled the numerous strips of tape plastered over his lower face and collected the spittle covered mass of cloth that was trapped inside his mouth. Damn! Black Speedos! This made for a big ball of material.

“Hi Grégory,” were his first words. Not remembering whether I had greeted him also, I went on straight to the question:

“Anything wrong?”

“Uh… I need to pee.”

Dang! Would I be able to tie him up back again if I left him go to the bathroom? Or would he refuse? It was too much fun keeping him this way. I made a bold move as I rushed to the bathroom and fetched a plastic bowl.

“Hey! What the…”

“Shhh,” I said putting my hand over his mouth as I came back. “I won't let my prisoner trick me into freeing him. But I don't want a messy accident,” I laughed.

He was still on his side, so I grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled them down as I could, lowering his briefs at the same time. As I didn't manage too well, since his position didn't make things too easy, I plunged my hand inside his briefs and took his tool out. It was turgid all right, and sweaty, and it did smell of dick but I pretended not to notice.

Actually, I tried to convince myself that the boner I sported for the last forty-five minutes had nothing to do with the hot piece of maleness I had under my thumb.

“Go ahead,” I said in an assured voice.

Though my hand had long left his mouth, he kept quiet. He closed his eyes, and I felt his dick soften slightly – he must have been a master at yoga and self-control –and he relieved himself. I put his apparel back once he was done, went to empty the bowl of piss into the sink, rinsed it, washed my hands and came back inside the room.

I had not tickled Philippe's feet because his brothers had left his shoes on, but then it got to be very tempting. As I looked at the form hog-tied on the bed, I got to thinking…

Chapter 2: Babysitting can be fun sometimes

OK, it's not like all these ideas came up out of the blue. I'd had fantasies about tying up guys before. And about the possible fun I could have. However, this little time I'd spent with a helpless Philippe, all wrapped up in nylon and ropes, sweating, and struggling did fuel my creative thinking. I closed the window so we wouldn't be heard from outside.

I went to the side of the bed; I tickled him some more, rejoicing in his relentless laughter, and being rather turned on by the solid piece of wood tenting his satiny shorts; I then asked him if he was thirsty. He was, so I went back to the bathroom to get some water. He hadn't seen I'd grabbed the Speedos he'd kept in his mouth since morning; I felt like adding to the slimy touch.

I lowered my shorts and my white cotton briefs. It didn't take long before I came into the Speedos, as I narcissistically looked at my cute blonde face in the mirror over the sink, stroking my five inches proudly with my right hand, holding the gooey nylon in the other, thinking of the hot bundle I was going to play a prank on. I pulled my feet out of the briefs and shorts that were at my ankles, since I didn't feel like wearing my cotton underwear anymore.

I then cautiously cleaned up my shaft before pulling my shorts back up, carefully tucking my manhood inside; I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror a final time, with my butt tightly lined by the shiny material even more, since I was sprouting another boner already.

I went back to the bedroom with a big plastic cup full of water in one hand, Philippe's wet piece of underwear in the other, hidden from his view. He was still patiently waiting, hogtied on his side, and turned to me; his square face, his blue eyes, and his messy black hair all made him look SO appealing. I brought the cup of water to his lips, and had him drink it all.

“Thanks,” he said as he was done guzzling down the half litre of cold water. I didn't let him go into more polite talk as I shoved the soggy nylon into his mouth. I dried his lower face with my jersey's sleeve, and criss-crossed a few pieces of tape over his lips. I then wrapped three or four turns of the 2 ½ inch-wide roll of tape around his head, making sure his lower face was well covered and the Speedos would remain where they were.

“Enjoy the taste?” I asked. “Like the taste of me?”

His eyes widened as he realized his underwear was cum-flavoured – with my spunk!

“Hmmmph!” he grunted, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Calm down, I can't believe you don't enjoy it, you little stinkpot!”

With the window closed, it was getting a bit stuffy (the bedroom was just under the roof and the sun was beating hard this day). And I was getting quite turned on by the musky smells we both developed. I was about to move on to the next phase.

I leaned over to unlace my Ilie Nastase sneakers – these were the 80s, remember – giving Philippe a nice view of my red nylon-clad butt. I removed my shoes, and then my sweaty white socks. I held them for a while, and took a sniff. I thought Philippe would enjoy getting a whiff, so I placed them over his taped mouth, with the toes, the smelliest part, just under his nostrils. A couple more turns of the roll of tape ensured they'd remain where they were. Interestingly, it added to the inflation of the black satin encasing his crotch.

I climbed onto the bed and leaned over Philippe to untie the rope linking his ankles and wrists. He stretched his legs and had a satisfied grunt. The position must have gotten a bit uncomfortable after a while, I guessed. I pushed him back on his back, his hands still tied behind him. I knew it had to hurt a bit, but I didn't intend to leave him like this for too long. I straddled his thighs, facing his feet and bent over to untie his ankles before I'd remove his black leather sneakers.

I tickled his flanks with my toes a bit, and there was some shaking and squirming from the boy bound underneath me, but it didn't deter me from going on. As I pulled his left shoe off, my nose was told he'd worn these socks for longer than since this morning. “Ewww…” I whined, “You don't change socks too often, do you?” I craned my neck to catch a look at Philippe's face; he let out a low annoyed grunt as our eyes met.

It's really strange that as inexperienced as I was, I managed rather well to use the ropes; I had had a little time with the cub scouts, so I knew basic knots and lashing, and my lusty, kinky mind got me to find out the rest of the solutions. Soon Philippe was tied with his legs spread out, each ankle tied to the footboard, his feet sticking slightly out of the mattress. His arms were pulled to the side, wrists linked to the bed's feet.

I added ropes at the knees, waist and shoulders that I tied to the bed frame. He would have a hard time bucking and writhing as I planned to “torture” him a bit further. I picked up his smelly socks I had thrown on the floor, and jumped back onto the bed, sitting on his belly and looking at him intently. I knotted the two tubes of yellow nylon at the toes, and I tied them on top of my own socks, the scent of which he was already enjoying. A knot tied behind his head meant he now was prisoner of both sets of stinky toes.

As I sat up straight, my butt went a bit further back, and I could feel that the stench was turning him on further. I wriggled my butt against his hard-on a little, and I got him wild, as he was trying to extend the soft caress by the nylon stretched over the soft mounds. I moved further back and sat between his spread hairy thighs, propped on my elbows that touched his calves.. I pulled my feet up, and softly laid them over his stomach. From there, I slowly moved them up towards his face, wiggling my toes in a tickling motion until I had both feet pressed against the layers of socks covering his lower face.

“Like them piggies, hey?” I joked as my captive was still displaying a consistent woody.

I don't remember precisely the sequence of events that ensued. I know that I had fun with his feet, since I had found a feather on his desk, that I tickled his boner through his shorts and overall enjoyed seeing Philippe writhe and squirm, his muffled grunts sounding like moans of pleasure. I even ended up sitting on his chest, and locking my blue gaze into his as I wanked in my shorts.

Just before I came, I pulled my cock out and lowered it, aiming at his face. I didn't miss, and a splash of semen covered his nylon covered lower face. I then spread the whitish liquid all over with my softening sex, even going to the extent of rubbing his nostrils with the tip of my dick. I couldn't believe what was driving me so wild. That's when the phone rang.

Chapter 3: I guess I’ll be at it a little longer

The phone ringing got me out from my post-orgasmic haze in a jiffy. I had a quick look at the alarm clock as I jumped down from the bed. Quarter to five. Darn, I had to untie my prisoner before Philippe's parents came back. I went to answer the phone on the landing, since it was likely it was my own parents calling to ask what time I'd be home.

“Hello?” I said trying to control my breathing, for I felt like I had run a few miles.

“Grégory?” A mildly surprised voice said. I identified the boys' mother quickly.

“Yes, Mrs T., Philippe's not in, he should be back soon though.”

“That's fine; just tell him we're staying over at his aunt's, we won't be back before lunch tomorrow. I already called his brothers at Steph's; they're staying overnight. Are you sleeping over, Grégory?”

Wow, this family sure helped me out a lot so I had some private time with Philippe. We had had sleepovers with Philippe and his brothers as far as I remembered. And since the summer before, we had had their house or my parents' for ourselves a few nights. Which meant playing football until dark, then Risk or Monopoly until ungodly hours, cooking spaghetti and when at my place watching videos, since my parents owned a VCR.

“Uh, may I?”

“Sure, I'll call your parents to check if it's OK with them.”

There was little risk it wouldn't be OK with them; my parents usually enjoyed having nights to them in the summer if they managed to get rid of all three of us.

“Thank you, Mrs T.”

“No problem, tell Philippe he can fix the left-over stew for your dinner. There's ice-cream in the freezer.”

“I'll tell him. Have a nice evening.”

“You too. Take care.”

I hung up the phone and grinned. It meant I had all evening, night and morning to take care of my prisoner. I rushed back into his bedroom, after getting a plastic gun in Cédric's. It sure smelled musky in there. Instead of grossing me out, it got me back into lustful mode. I was totally intoxicated by all I saw, heard and smelled, and completely overwhelmed by the whole situation. I stripped off my jersey, and approached the spread-eagled boy, brandishing my toy gun and getting into character for going on with the game.

“Sorry, prisoner, but I just had your parents on the phone. They haven't collected the ransom yet.”

“Mmmblmph!” Philippe grunted back.

“Yes, it's annoying; it means I have to keep you here a little while longer.”

Another muffled growl and some hampered thrashing around conveyed the message: Philippe was only too happy to play the role of the hostage in distress. A slightly darker patch on the front of his shorts told another story. I sat on the side of the mattress, and was about to have more fun with Philippe's expanding crotch when the phone rang again.

“Maybe the ransom is ready?”

“Mmmmph!” Philippe said shaking his head. I doubted he'd be happy to be freed at this point. I went to answer the phone.


“Grégory, my mom told me you stayed with Philippe overnight?” Cédric piped joyfully.


“And I'd bet Philippe can't come to the phone right now?”

“No, he can't. Any message for him?” I was eager to get back to playing around with my captive, so I didn't trigger a lengthy conversation.

“Not really, but if you keep him bound longer, he'll be happy; he told us he'd like to see what happens if you spend 24 hours tied up.”

“I'll check out with him. And I have to untie him to go to the bathroom, at least.”

“Do you?”

“I'm not gonna wipe his butt, Cédric!”

I heard a grunt from the bedroom, but its meaning still was ambiguous. There was also a pause on the other end of the line. My statement did cause some thinking here and there.

“Yeah, I guess,” Cédric said, with just a hint of embarrassment. “But other than this, keep him tied up, I'm sure he'll like it.”

I knew about Philippe's taste all right, I'd had the occasion to witness it myself, but the eagerness his brothers would have in telling me just got me randier, it didn't raise any concern I could have felt at the beginning of the afternoon. While I pictured a few of the things I'd do to Philippe next, I tried to remain calm and non-committal over the phone.

“So, what are you guys and Steph up to?”

“Ah, the usual, he got this movie from his cousin that should scare the crap out of Hervé; it's called The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, so we're going to watch this when it's dark. We're gonna have a table tennis tournament before.”

“Good, you guys have fun!”

“Yeah, you too! See you tomorrow; we'll be back round eleven.”

“OK, see you then.”

After putting the receiver back into its cradle, I picked it up again to call my parents, not wanting to be disturbed once more in my games with my bound buddy. It didn't take long, but that being out of the way, I was back into business.

I searched Philippe's brothers' bedrooms for more gear to make my wild ideas come to life. More sportswear, a few rolls of tape, a couple rubber swim caps, and other items of interest were collected in a canvas bag.

“So, prisoner, I got orders to detain you here longer.”

Another bout of tickling with me kneeling between my friend's thighs got the expected results of helpless squirming, tears welling up and the dark patch spreading a bit more. I didn't fare much better, as I noticed my shorts were turning crimson where the tip of my swollen member rested. I thought it wasn't fair that I could tent my shorts as heavily and that Philippe could keep a little modesty: I untied his legs, lowered his shorts and briefs, then put his shorts back on.

Of course, it was a bit difficult to get his puffed-up, leaking manhood back inside, but the tight elastic waistband allowed to trap the said manhood within the confines of the gleaming black material again. I was left with his Speedos; yes, Philippe must have a nylon fetish, he wore Speedos under his Beckenbauer shorts. I inhaled deeply, with the crotch area a centimetre or two from my nose.

It was a rich and pungent aroma; I was fascinated by both the smell and the effect it had on me; I discovered the attraction I could have for things that would have seemed repulsive had I been told about doing them a few hours earlier. Philippe started moving his legs around, pretending he was trying to get free.

I had another inspired idea. While taunting him and telling how he had no chance of ever escaping my control, I fetched two coils of rope previously unused. I grabbed his left ankle and looped some rope around it that I carefully knotted. I then pulled his leg up, and back down next to his head; once I had tied the end of the rope to the headboard, his foot would remain close to his head. I did the same thing with his right leg, then patiently untied from the frame the ropes that had kept his lower limbs down, and used them at the knees and thighs to keep him pinned on his back, his butt sticking up and any motion being once again made impossible.

“You're my little prisoner who can't run away, aren't you?” I teased him as I pulled the Speedos I had just stripped him from down on his face, managing to have the crotch area just over his nose, which now had to be taking in only odours of sweaty feet and boy cum. Back on the bed, I kneeled in front of him, my thighs touching his stretched buttocks.

I lowered myself, putting my hands besides his ribs, until my boner rubbed the satin covering his butt crack. I went into some hip grinding, and so did Philippe, to the extent that the ropes allowed him to. I thought of ripping his shorts and going all the way, but as it was a first, I still couldn't figure out how it could be done, and I still wasn't comfortable with the idea of sticking my weenie up his derriere.

I flexed my arms and came closer to him, and at the same time moved forward a bit, until I felt, separated by two layers of satiny nylon, our cocks stroking each other. I brought my face to his, taking in the various aromas he was a captive of, and I shook my hips so the rubbing of the material was at its softest. I gave Philippe some dirty talk I wasn't aware I knew, and I could feel him shivering underneath, and grumbling into his thick gag.

A tension was building up in my loins, and I kept on moving, having more control over the situation and wanting to bring my captive friend to orgasm. As I sensed his restrained body quivering and shaking in spite of the restraints, I lost it completely and started moving around frantically. He shouted through his gag as we both came together. I kept on humping him like crazy as the warm wetness invaded my shorts. I dropped over him, panting, telling him how good this was, our blue gazes locked, while he gratefully grunted.

Last edited by Bondwriter on Sat Dec 16, 2017 8:19 pm, edited 63 times in total.

Posts: 242
Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 4th

Postby Bondwriter » Thu Mar 03, 2016 8:52 pm

Chapter 4: Now that I’ve learned the ropes

I slowly removed the Speedos that covered my friend's face, as it gave his gaze a strange feel to it, with his –nice blue-- eyes barely showing through the underwear's leg openings. I unknotted his socks, and then peeled off the tape that held mine. Now he just had his lower face covered by white surgical tape. I fetched tissues from his desk and cleaned as much as I could of the cum that our shorts were full of, inside and outside. I disposed of the wet tissues in the paper basket before I went back to my prisoner.

I tickled him a bit further, getting him to wriggle around in his tight bondage. I eventually had a look at the alarm clock. It was six already. I wondered aloud: “So, what should I do with my prisoner?”


“No, I ain't gonna set you free, silly! But I saw the cover of a comic book that I thought rather inspiring,” I looked around the room, “but I can't do it here. We'll have to go to the kitchen.”

I had just remembered the beam that would make my endeavour possible. Philippe's puzzled look was reinforced by a questioning “Mmph?”

It was almost forty-five minutes later when I was done. I had walked my bound captive downstairs, after a job involving some tedious untying/ tying back up differently. I pushed him down the hall, his wrists and elbows strictly united by rope in the back, pieces of cord having been bound to his knees and ankles to hobble him.

I admired the nice reflections on the silk knot tied at the nape of his neck, which I had tightened lovingly as I had reinforced his tape gag with a black silk scarf. I had also changed his shorts to some navy-blue Umbro ones that belonged to Hervé. They were quite tight, but not compressing, though the stretching quality of the material was needed. I put a similar pair on, they fit just perfectly, and I discarded our stained shorts on a nearby chair.

I was enthralled by keeping Philippe under control at all times. It wasn't too difficult. He played along with my role-playing of a villain without resisting much. Just what was needed to get me into role-playing even more, waving my plastic gun around.

That's how I managed to achieve my first creative tie-up. After efforts and lots of thinking, I could admire my rope work: Philippe, just wearing shorts and thoroughly united to the 2-inch vertical beam that stood between the kitchen and the living room. This had to be a remnant of a former partition wall; the wooden pole turned out to be handy for what I had thought out.

It took a little experimenting to wrap neat coils of rope around his legs and then around the pole; I eventually developed a proper technique. Once he was encircled at the ankles, knees, thighs, waist and shoulders, his arms well roped to the pole, I took the longest rope that was in Philippe's plentiful supply and criss-crossed it from top to bottom, turning around his body and threading it carefully through the existing knots and ropes, cinching the various circles a bit tighter every time.

I made a point to get a very symmetrical result, as I commented while toiling, “You won't get away, Philippe. And it's gonna look really good.”


I beheld the final result from various angles, feeling a pang of self-satisfaction at the display of pure beauty I had helped to come to life. Philippe, shirtless and hugged by tight satiny shorts was already a treat to watch, but the rope network keeping him bound to the pole enhanced his good looks—not to mention the clever V made of cord that framed his package and pulled the nylon taut over it, making the shiny dark bulge the focus of attention. At least, to me; I was fascinated by the show.

My stomach grumbled, and so did Philippe's in response. I laughed.

“We've come down here for dinner, time to get started on this.”

I was eager now to hear from my captive on how he had felt during his ordeal. The whole activity I'd had untying him to bring him downstairs and trussing him up to his pole had brought me back to reality. Here I was, alone with one of my friends in inescapable bondage, and loving every second of it; I had to find out more about what he enjoyed in these games. I unknotted the various towels and scarves gagging him so he could answer my questions.

Once I had him spit the soggy nylon that filled his mouth, I gave him some water to drink. He guzzled down over a litre of fresh water in no time.

“Thanks Grégory,” he gratefully sighed, out of breath after drinking so fast.

“You're welcome; I'd like to chat as I fix dinner.”

“What about?” Philippe wondered out loud.

“About what you want to happen next. Or maybe about what you and your brothers have done already. This could inspire me also. Am I the first outside your brothers who tied you up?”

“No. You're not the first friend of mine to play tie-up games with me and my brothers, and you're not the first to tie me up.”

My curiosity was stirred by the acknowledgement of another player. My eyes betrayed my interest, for Philippe continued:

“It's Nicolas. My brothers trapped both of us last week-end.”

Nicolas! My curiosity was not the only thing his revelations stirred.

I'd had dreamy thoughts about Nicolas who had the same swimming training I did. Over the school year, it seemed he'd become lovelier and lovelier. He'd grown out of the soft chubby body to gain a more defined one.

His buttocks had lost some of their plump but none of their roundness and seeing him strut around the pool in his nicely hugging Umbro swimwear was a treat for the eye. So imagining him squirming on the bed by Philippe's side, dressed in his tight tracksuit as Philippe was telling me, it was just heaven of the mind!

I was amazed by Philippe's willingness to confess he played a role in getting Nicolas hogtied along with him. He had suggested to his brothers that as Nicolas was coming for a sleepover, being both kidnapped by his bros would be a cool activity for a couple hours. Therefore, as Philippe had left to go to the bathroom during the evening, Cédric and Hervé had made short work of restraining and silencing Nicolas.

Philippe had come back to his room to find his friend standing in the middle, bound with ropes and heavily gagged. Of course, he had pretended not to hear the mmmphs of warning Nicolas had emitted with more and more insistence as the two kidnapping brothers had closed in on their older sibling. Philippe was trying to remove the knot tying the first scarf used to gag his friend. He spoke reassuringly, telling him that once untied, they'd give Cédric and Hervé what they deserved.

He was cut short by the rugby mixed with judo attack that had ensued. Nicolas was able to witness the whole methodical procedures that led to Philippe being as unable to escape or protest as he was.

“So the meddling little snoop wanted to counter our illegal activities? It's not gonna happen, we'll keep you tied up here while we clean the warehouse. Then you can always go to snitch on us, it'll be too late.”

Hervé made a good impersonation of the evil drug lord, to the exception that an evil drug lord would actually get the meddling snoops killed, but Hervé thought that this was much more fun anyway.

Philippe admitted that the two hours he'd spent on the bed with Nicolas, hogtied but able to fidget around so he could snuggle up to his cute friend had been “really nice”. This triggered another question from me; yes, I was vain at the time.

“So do you prefer being tied up with Nicolas or being tied up by me?” I asked as I went to the stove to stir the stew that was heating up. There was a blank in the conversation, but Philippe didn't hesitate for long.

“I like both, I think what would be really nice would be to get tied up with Nicolas by you.”

I heard the smile in his voice though I had my back to him.

“It may be arranged some time,” I said as detachedly as I could. This was a rather nice prospect, and I'd make sure to remind him of it once the time would come. “But tell me a bit about all this weird stuff that you like. It's surprising, but some of the games we played this afternoon were really enjoyable, and I'd never thought someone would like this besides me,” I prompted.

Chapter 5: Polling at the pole

Philippe explained that his brothers had lied about when they'd started having tie-up activities; it had gone on longer than since the beginning of the month. They had become quite skilled over a year or so. He didn't tell me right away he'd done the sock stuff before, but he admitted that he'd always enjoy his smelly feet guiltily, not really understanding why the tang of footwear after effort gave him such a kick.

I opened up to him on this issue, explaining I was strangely turned on by these odours too. We discussed the fine points of what made some feet smells pleasant, even though strong, and some others rather repulsive. I confessed my attraction to seeing him all tied up, and how much excitement I had experienced over the afternoon.

He had discovered he wasn't alone the week before, as Steph had done the exact same thing I did. The despised name goaded me into asking a question so fast I didn't pick up the inconsistency of Philippe's tales, since he'd earlier told he'd never been tied up by someone else.

“Steph? What did you guys do?” I asked. I came to stand in front of my captive. My tone must have betrayed some annoyance, for Philippe blushed and looked down; he soon lifted his head, looked me into the eyes and revealed more of his experience.

“We were playing football last week, but then the light drizzle we'd had in the morning turned into some real downpour early in the afternoon so we had to get inside. We were alone, and we went to my room to play. There was a piece of rope, and as Steph wondered about it, I challenged him to restrain me. He was only too glad to do it, and as he removed our shoes to get on the bed, we noticed the smell of our feet.”

Ok, so that’s how he’d hooked with a fellow-sock sniffer.

“We'd played in the wet grass, so they'd gotten damp fast, and had enough time to simmer inside our plastic shoes. Steph saw me wriggle my nose, and this must have been enough of a signal. He removed the socks and stuck one of mine inside my mouth, and the other was used to trap it where it was.”

Philippe went on explaining how he'd been tied up, and he hinted at some sex stuff that had occurred. Whereas I felt comfortable, playing around with him while he was bound and gagged, and discussing fetishes, I didn't dare ask him more details about what had actually happened.

I shifted back to the topic of tie-up activities, eliciting the descriptions of the various ways Steph had him trussed up and silenced. I made mental notes of all he said about the hogties, the different manners to bind arms, the experiments he told me about to allow for the least possible noise.

My nose and ears got me back to the present and the simmering stew. It was time to take it off the burner. This stopped our conversation, and silence ensued; this was the first time I could talk about such private matters, and it was both scary and exhilarating. I hoped my confidences would remain secret, and I rejoiced in knowing I wasn't a freak.

We ate, with me bringing the pan and feeding each of us in turn with a fork. After I gave him more water to drink, I set up spending a quiet evening. I grabbed a small towel, crammed it inside his mouth, and trapped it there with a long rolled dishtowel. Another one was used to blindfold him, and I was ready for more fun.

“I'll be right back, just wait for me, I giggled as I quickly ran upstairs.

I soon was walking down the staircase, the soggy briefs I'd left in his room in my hand. I figured he deserved some desert. I stealthily came back to the kitchen; he shivered as I ran a finger over his chest.


“You're welcome,” I teased him as my hand slid further down until it reached the nylon of his shorts. I softly stroked his cock through the slippery fabric, taunting its bulging head with the tip of my index finger. I got a vocal reaction that took the form of a muffled and frustrated moan, and the shorts inflated. I was getting used to having Philippe react in the limited ways the restraints and the muzzling allowed, though it still caused an identical stirring in my loins.

I lowered his shorts, stepped behind him, and grabbed the erect, turgid sausage in my right hand, sliding up and down the shaft.

“You're excited full-time, you horny little beast, you!” I chirped, regretting my still high-pitched voice that prevented me from acting the credible stud I thought I was.

I didn't have to worry too much about my ability to make other boys happy, since soon, I felt my worked-up friend just about to burst out once more. The Speedos in my left hand collected the squirting jism, each rope of semen accompanied by a stifled groan of pleasure coming from behind the towels.

“You wanted this bad, hey? You know what, it gives me ideas.” I removed the blindfold with my right hand and stepped back in front of the trussed up Philippe, rigidly standing against his pole. I pulled his shorts up, tucking his manhood away from plain view. His misty eyes thanked me for preserving his modesty or maybe for allowing him to discharge again.

I undertook to add to the amount of cream. He grunted as he saw me jack off in his Speedos, my eyes locked into his, a quiet smirk on my lips.

“Yeah, you're not the only one to get all thrilled up by your stories,” I thought as the combined view of Philippe and the idea of a bundled up Nicolas got me steadily to the apex of sexual joy. My own cum spouted into the already sodden briefs, and I got my little friend back under its layer of dark nylon.

Philippe expected what came up next. I unknotted the long towel and emptied his oral cavity. He let out a satisfied sigh and took willingly the rolled ball of Lycra stuffed with cum in. The wide adhesive tape neatly helped to cover his lower face, a few layers of the shiny white material enhancing the grey-blue colour of his eyes, while efficiently sealing his lips.

“It's gonna be tougher softening me with your words,” I joked. The recent orgasm had indeed deflated our members, but I'd have bet it would only be temporary. Touching his lips as I smoothed the tape had already triggered a new arousal, though it would take a few minutes for it to become visible.

I pulled a rubber swim cap over Philippe's hair; he quizzically looked at me.

“I want a very quiet and subdued prisoner, and I'll get one,” I whispered.

I adjusted the stretchy rubber so all of his thick hair was covered, and his ears were not bent underneath. This mattered greatly since I intended to mummify his head; I didn't want it to hurt once I'd remove the tape. I wrapped his head three times from his chin to the top of his head, locking his jaws; I added three turns around his lower face to keep the previous plastering in place.

I snatched a roll of gauze from the bag I'd brought downstairs. I unrolled it over the tape I'd just stuck. I placed the small cushion his brothers had used when they had tied him to the chair behind his head and kept on unravelling the gauze, now imprisoning the pole as well.

I worked methodically, which maybe would have made my mom proud, since she often complained of me being messy; in the end, only Philippe's eyes could be seen. He batted his long eyelashes; I was now realizing how beautiful his eyes were.

“My own little statue,” I cooed as I let my fingers run over his muscular chest again.

Looking down, I noticed he twitched his feet. Completely motionless? Not yet! I took a 2-foot long piece of kitchen twine from a dispenser next to the stove and kneeled down in front of my prisoner. I carefully knotted his big toes together. I was done this time.

Standing back up, I leaned towards him again, basking in the suave and intoxicating smells his sweet body exhaled from bottom to top.

“You'd like me to wank you again already? Tasting juice gets you going again? Why don't we take a little break?”

“Mmmmbll!” he disapproved.

Truth be told, I was still horny, but the repeated climaxes, and the hard work of taking care of my captive boy were starting to take their tolls. So I spent one hour watching TV in the living room. Philippe couldn't see the screen, but I made sure he caught a good sight of me from the corner of his eye. I let him admire in turns my tanned legs and their golden stubble, my butt, my torso, by taking various poses on the sofa. I went to check on him a couple times, ensuring his excitation rate remained at an acceptable level.

Wouldn't you know it, the third time around I had my share of my immobile, helpless captive. There was one more thing I wanted to do before partially releasing him. I went to get his parents' Polaroid camera. There was film in it, and still the flash bulbs. I carefully aimed for three pictures, admonishing my model not to move. That's how clever I was back then.

A shot from up front, one from the side, with all his body visible, and a third shot was taken of his mummified head. I let the pics to dry on the table. Of course, I was rewarded by priceless subdued protests from Philippe, who this time had to be genuinely annoyed at my behaviour.

“It's getting late,” I said, ignoring his dissent, “we'd better go to bed.”

I wrinkled my already slightly upturned nose in a disgust grimace.

“But maybe Mr Stinkpot needs cleaning up a bit before?”

My humiliating comment got the expected result. His only body part that could move jerked inside his shorts. I undertook to free my prisoner from the pole starting with his head. I removed the gauze, freeing his head from the beam; however, I left the many layers of tape trapping the rubber cap and the spunky Speedos inside his mouth.

Next came the long rope criss-crossed around his body and the post. I got his arms untied from it too. He pretended he was fighting, but his thoroughly trussed up legs made the attempts useless. I looped a coil of rope just below his shoulders, pulling his arms to his torso; then, pushing him a bit forward, I tied his wrists together behind his back.

At last, I could free his legs so he could walk, though I left him hobbled with a little over a foot of rope linking his ankles to prevent any kicking. A hand on his shoulder propped him forward. I collected the toy gun.

“Move, prisoner! And no funny stuff, or else…”

Chapter 6: Shower me with your love

Philippe turned around and gave me a pleading look and the now customary “Mmmph”. I couldn't help bursting into laughter at his puppy dog eyes.

“Yes, my cute prisoner, yes…”

As we were passing the toilets door, I then wondered whether he meant anything else besides proving me that he could play his role well.

“Need to go in there?”

He nodded strongly.

“Mmmh… The big one?”

The second nod was shier; though our intimacy level had highly increased over the last few hours, some things were still a bit private. I still did not intend to have him use the toilet in front of me and wipe his butt. Anyway, Philippe had not given me any trouble, and I had my weapon. This was a small room with bars on the window, and just the toilets and a sink, so there wasn't any risk of any escape attempt; I could go on role-playing the villain quite credibly, while avoiding this embarrassing situation.

I used my most threatening tone, which had to sound quite ludicrous at the time.

“You may go in, but no funny stuff.” I was not very well versed in gangsters talk.

I freed his wrists, but ordered him to leave the rope encircling his upper arms and NOT to touch his gag. He submissively nodded, entered the room and closed the door.

“Don't lock it! I'd hate to have to shoot the latch,” I growled – or at least I tried to. “You've got three minutes.”

I moved away when I realized I'd hear everything, which made me blush. What kind of pervert would take pleasure in listening to his friend taking a dump? I let my mind wander a bit, considering how to handle the cleaning of my prisoner. I eventually heard the flush signalling Philippe was done.

“Now wash your hands, and stand facing the wall.”

I heard the tap running, then being turned off.

I abruptly opened the door. My captive stood with his back to me, his wrists crossed in the small of his back.

“Wrists to elbows,” I ordered, needing him to have his hands out of the way later on. Two pieces of rope were used to keep his forearms together. Then, keeping him under the threat of my plastic gun, I had him step backwards into the hall. I lead him into the bathroom, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Mmmmbllmm?” he grunted inquiringly as I had him step into the shower, shucking off my shirt and following him. He had to be questioning the fact we were both still wearing our shorts.

“Yes, they need a little cleaning too, and I don't want you running around naked, do I?”

Of course, we both had some wet patches in front, as we had leaked a little pre-cum since we'd been quite horny since our meal. Nevertheless, if shorts needed cleaning, they were the Beckenbauer ones that had collected our sweat and bodily fluids resulting from our attraction.

As for the nudity comment, well, it was sheer hypocrisy on my part, since I had actually watched Philippe's genitals shamelessly, as I had displayed my own; but there was something I found extremely attractive: a pair of buttocks lined with shiny nylon. My ulterior motive was also to see, knead, and rub against the wet soapy shorts, which seemed a feeling that would please me very much.

I closed the shower's glass door and got the water running. It soon was at the temperature I wanted, on the verge of cold. Feeling the dried salty sweat being washed off by the flow was a reviving feeling. Only one pair of hands was available for the two of us, but it got busy enough to give both bodies a thorough rinsing.

I turned the tap off, grabbed the shower gel bottle and undertook to lather up Philippe's chest. My crotch pressed against his butt as my hands moved towards his armpits and then up and down his torso. I took care of my own upper body, hence cutting off the contact between my throbbing boner and his soft, pert buttocks. It was quite refreshing.

I then surprised Philippe a bit, as I pulled his shorts' waistband from behind and squirted a generous amount of gel that ran along his butt crack. I poured some gel inside the front of my shorts, before getting close to him again; I pulled Philippe's elastic and squeezed the bottle of gel to cover equally his cock and balls with the gooey liquid. I let the waistband snap back into place with a wet sound and I put the bottle back on the ledge to have both hands free.

Both our sets of genitals then got some gratification, his from my hand touching him through the fabric with my fingers occasionally getting inside, kneading his shaft all the way down to its end, my straining dick rubbing against his backside, comfortably nested against his butt crack, the smooth gliding of the gel-coated material releasing this slippery sensation. Feeling the warmth he released and the supple touch of his skin made me lose my mind.

Imperceptibly, he had moved. I felt Philippe pushing me until my back touched the cold tiles of the shower's stall wall. He arched his back, his forearms just below my rib cage and his firm buttocks pinning me against the wall. I kept teasing him with my hand and his louder, muffled “Mmmph!” implied a request. From the way he was grinding his hips, it dawned on me he could be asking for more than what I was giving.

“You want me to stick my willie up your butt, is that it?” I whispered into his ear.

His vehement nodding and his begging grunt proved me I had guessed right; Philippe was actually leading me wherever he wanted, even though I’d had the illusion of control for the last few hours.

I had to act fast as we were bordering another orgasm. I lowered our shorts down to our ankles quickly; our cocks freed from the nylon sprung up. As I stood, I got mine up Philippe's crack. It didn't take too much exploring from me, as Philippe wiggled and pushed me to the shower wall. I felt my glans touch his butt hole, or more accurately his hole assaulted my cock.

He had gotten me to do his will, and he took me up his arse. Soon my sex was wholly engulfed by warmth and well-being. I wrapped my right wrist around Philippe's jutting boner, and from there, a little jerking and twisting from the entity we had created got our two brains to explode in a whirlwind of endorphins as our cocks spurted their semen.

I moaned in delight as I kept on rubbing his slowly deflating member. I was ecstatic. It was my first fuck, it had gone smoothly and I had loved it. My “So good, so good!” were echoed by his gagged growling. I needed to share with Philippe about what had just happened. I got the water flowing again to rinse my hands from the suds as I slid out of him; I then removed the tape-gag and the rubber swim cap hastily. I spun him around and grabbed the Speedos he chewed on.

I couldn't help it. His mouth being available, I parted my lips and kissed him. It tasted strange, the obvious cum taste, the somehow stale one of the nylon that had brewed inside, and the distinctive sweet flavour of my friend's mouth.

Our tongues rolled and writhed, going from his mouth to mine and back. Woo hoo! It felt great, even though we'd taken each step in a peculiar order. We eventually broke the kiss. The conversation I expected didn't happen. We were both breathless, and besides “Yeah!”, “Thanks…”, and “Wow!” not much came out.

I got the water running again, and shampooed him, then me, the touch of his hair having me melt again. I soaped us anew, and my massaging hands got us swooning some more, with little animal grumbling from us both.

A final rinse in even cooler water washed down the suds covering us, and I was able to plant another kiss on his lips, as the flow was dribbling all over our bodies. I got our drenched shorts back up. We were clean; I felt now as clean in my head as I was in my body, having shared my most intimate feelings with my friend.

I cautiously led him outside the shower, making sure he didn't slip since his helpless arms put him at risk in case of a fall. I stood behind him, and wrapped him into a big towel. I rubbed him tenderly from head to toe as if catching every single drop of water on his body was a matter of life and death.

As I stood up before performing the same treatment to myself, I heard “Grégory, are you gonna untie me?”

I could hear some regret in his voice at the prospect that I could be tired of the game and that I would let him loose. I didn’t want to disappoint him after this wonderful moment.

Clamping a hand over his mouth and bringing his head to rest on my shoulder, I whispered into his ear: “Shhh. You're my little prisoner. We wouldn't want you to call out for some Prince charming to come and rescue you, I want to keep you all mine.”

He nodded, and I felt his lips kissing the palm of my hand. Or did I really? Was he such a charmer?

My free hand caught the roll of white tape on the sink and I made a quick job of sealing his lips, then plastering his lower face again, as he grunted mmphs of pleasure.

I got dried, took another dry towel to do the job on our shorts again all the while enjoying the various contact I had with my sweet prisoner. Then, making a tremendous effort getting back in character, I laid a hand on his shoulder.

Posts: 242
Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 4th

Postby Bondwriter » Thu Mar 03, 2016 8:54 pm

Chapter 7: Silent night, holy night

“Up to the torture room I got you out from,” I threatened.

And thus we walked through the house and we reached Phil's bedroom, with just shorts on, Philippe moving gracefully despite the restraints, and me holding on to my bag filled with supplies. A look at the alarm clock told me it was close to midnight. You might imagine that my idea at this point was to have a go at another fucking session. I had the opportunity: a bed, a willing partner, my inhibitions overcome.

But now, I actually wanted to lay down, cuddled against a bound Phil and relish in a good sleep. That's what the nine hours of sex and six orgasms will do to you. Even when you are fifteen.

I had Phil lay down on his belly on the left side of the bed and I bound his legs together. I freed his arms, turned him on his back, and tied his wrists in front in a praying position, palm to palm. All he pinned them against his chest with nifty shoulder straps made of rope that also circled his upper arms. I locked him in this pious situation for the night. Lying next to him, I whispered:

“Good night, prisoner. I'm going to keep you mine forever, bound and gagged so you'll never escape my claws.”

I stroke his navel with my left index finger to illustrate how ruthless my claws were. Draping my left arm over his torso I turned on the side, putting my left leg in the ridge between his. My lips brushing against his tape-covered cheek, smelling both the shampoo's sweet fragrance and the bed's musky smells, I soon fell into a deep slumber.

I don't remember what I was dreaming about that night. It must have been sweet; maybe I was not even dreaming since there had not been enough time for me to go into the REM phase -- When you eyes move under their lids indicating you've reached la-la land -- and I was told how I reacted to what happened only much later on. My memories of being overtaken start with me fully restrained. But those who were there told me I struggled and protested.

When I became aware of this cowardly assault my wrists were bound behind my back. My ankles were tied as well. Someone was laying over me. It was a boy. I tried to clutch at his genitals that were within my grasp; he bended to get them out of my reach.

My assailant clamped his hand over my mouth and whispered in my ear.

“No use struggling. I've got you good, Grégory.”

I gave as much of a fight as I could but he was right. I fumed and the attacker moved on to trussing me up further; I vocally protested. Sadly enough, letting him know he was a jerk, a loser and a turd and explaining how I would pay him back once I would take him over didn't slow him down in wrapping me in ropes.

I kept insulting him but the clammy hand covered my mouth anew, which made my screams a droning sound without any of the usual sharpness or edge my quick retorting can carry. The hand got off, and as I opened my lips to, at last, let out a flight of nasty remarks and various screams, something was pushed in between. It was damp, it was slimy, it was nylon. The cogs in my brain, activated by the huge amount of adrenaline pumped into my system for the last two minutes quickly make out what it is: Phil's Speedos I had left on the bathroom floor.

A plentiful amount of tape to insure that I wouldn't bother him by spitting the swimwear out and some piece of material knotted at the nape of my neck to keep it all together, and Steph, whom I had now identified as the stalker, was in charge of two bound and gagged guys.

Not getting any response didn't prevent him from being happy as he worked on both Phil and me.

“I knew about your taste for ropes, Phil, but I had to see for myself that our little blond heartthrob had been converted to your kinky games. I must say you guys exceeded my expectations. My, Grégory, a guy tied up in his own bed, that's some teddy bear to fall asleep with. Hey, quit squirming! I'll finish with you later on.”

Philippe had not moved at all, but it would have been difficult for him to help me out on this one seeing the state he was in. Steph did not stop with me being trussed up: he moved the two of us around so we were sitting on the side of the bed, hands behind our backs and restrained, lips truly sealed.

“I really like being able to talk to friends who don't argue.”

Friends? This was some news. But my grumbling only caused him to smirk.

“Don't wanna be my friend? That's too bad; I'm going to pretend you are. Then, you can play with Phil and me.”

I must have looked surprised because he laughed.

“Yeah, Phil loves playing ‘Smell my Socks’ with me! It's a fun game and it's not too difficult to learn. Let me get some props.”

He left the room. I grunted, writhed and turned on the bed, and Phil got my cue. He did the same so I could reach the knot tying my wrists. But that was easier said than done, for I had a really hard time even finding it, my arms being quite hampered by the coils of rope encircling them. I eventually located the knot, but I had tied it quite well. I now have to figure out how to undo my thorough job without seeing what I was doing.

“The love birds want to fly away, hey!” Steph sardonically said as he came back much sooner than I’d have wanted.

“They won’t play a nice game with their friend Steph?”

It was weird having the tables turned on me. What puzzled me the most was that his role-playing was not that different from mine just a short while before. And I didn't mind too much being on the receiving end.

As Steph stood in front in his satiny blue shorts, his blue gaze, his full red lips curled upwards at the side gave me another impression of him. The bulge in his shorts, in particular, convinced me he was “one of ours”.

“I made some interesting discoveries about what you two did today.”

He threw the Polaroids of Phil roped to the beam next to me. I had left them on the kitchen counter, in plain view. This was a mistake. But there was more to be found, as the shorts we'd worn all afternoon were still on the chair, to my great shame and dismay. Steph picked them up, looking at them with interest.

“It seems you had some fun.”

The dried cum that copiously coated the front betrayed the type of fun he was referring to. I blushed over the tape.

“You know, I like playing games, Phil. Oh, I might as well explain to Greg here. From what I heard from Hervé and Cédric, these pics and the way of fun new, Phil didn't get many opportunities to tell you about the games we play. To make a long story short: he loves being tied up and having to smell socks all sneakers. I guess that's what one would call a foot fetish. You might want to get initiated into these games, Grégory?”

I didn't reply to his rhetorical question.

Chapter 8: New games, different players

“I'm gonna start with a different one, though. I’ll call this game ‘whose shorts are these?’ It's quite simple. First I'll make you blind.”

He grabbed a roll of tape and sealed our eyes with short strips. This was much more effective than the scarf.

“The rules are quite simple. I'll have you smell the two pairs of shorts; then I'll ask you whose were the first pair, then the second! Let's start with you Greg. First pair.”

The tang was immediately perceptible. There was dried cum, and our dicks’ odour. Tough at first to guess whom it belonged to. But far behind the sex smells, I also identified my mum's washing powder. I know he got my suspicion confirmed when Steph offered a second pair to my appreciation. The strongest musk, and the smell of Phil's sweaty body that I had grown familiar with were unmistakable.

“Were the first shorts Phil's?”

I shook my head no.

“Were they yours?”

I nodded in approval. He repeated the same question about the second pair, prompting me to reply since I’d gotten the confirmation from my nose that they were Phil’s.

The whole procedure started over with Phil as a contestant. In the end, Steph softly pulled the blindfolding tape from our eyes.

“You know each other well, lover boys, for you both won!”

I cringed a bit at the mention of being considered an item, while enjoying the general feeling of not being made fun of by my archenemy.

“What should I do with them shorts now?”

He already knew the answer, as he folded Phil’s so as to have a square that he pressed over my mouth. The crotch was over my nose, so I inhaled the intoxicating odour. More tape was wrapped up around my head to keep them from falling.

“So, you're good at sniffing, let's try another doggy skill. Let's see how horny you guys are.”

He had us stand up and hop to the middle of the room so we were shoulder to shoulder.

“I'm gonna time how long it takes to get two randy hounds like you to come. I'll start with our new contestant here…”

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my chest, proudly showing his fancy LCD display watch. It conveniently featured a timer.

“Ready, steady, go!”

He pushed the start button and his hand plunged inside my shorts. He grabbed my boner and pulled it out from its silky envelope. His right wrist was quite supple, and the whole handling, once my first angry fit at being thus played with had passed, got me back into the mood for pleasure.

As he hadn’t said whereas he expected me to hold on, or to explode as fast as possible, I let myself go.

The heavy mass of smelly nylon that was just below my nose, the tight bonds and the heavy gagging, they all lead to me losing track of time. Very soon being overwhelmed with lust, he must have felt I was about to spurt, for he grabbed something that was stuck at the back of his own shorts under the waistband.

“Three minutes and thirty-eight seconds,” he announced as he collected my bursting semen in the sock he'd just taken hold of. I lowered my eyes to see, it was one of Philippe's I had left in the kitchen. Steph was quite into the sort of stuff we were. Or, maybe I was into the stuff they were.

After milking my softening dick and summarily wiping it with the sock, he put my tool back into its smooth case. I could feel a little dampness spread around.

However, Steph intended to get another fountain to spring as he went to provide similar ministrations to Philippe. I admired the handsome member from the corner of my eye. It seemed to be stretching as a smooth hand ran up and down, Steph's pinky tickling the nut sack.

The same sock was used to gather the generous amount of thick liquid Phil let out.

“Four minutes and twelve seconds,” our tormentor joyfully piped. “You win, Grégory!”

I realized he hadn’t mentioned whether the first or the last to burst out was supposed to win. It allowed him to pick a winner of his choice regardless of the results, and it was me.

He tucked Philippe' manhood back inside the shorts. What had I won, though? I got the answer soon enough.

“As you’re the fastest one, you win the right to sniff the contest’s production.”

The prospect of having the piece of stinking material forced onto my nose pleased me only mildly. I let him know, and I could hear Phil being vocal also.

“Mmmmph! Mmmgrmmbllmm!”

“Mmph! Mmhphmmbllmm!”

“I knew you'd like it, Greg; sorry, Phil, but there can be only one winner.”

Some layers were removed from the mass wrapping my lower face, and I could easily guess what was about to happen. The soiled sock came to complete the stained shorts to remind my nose of what boys’ emissions were like smell wise.

“Now I've taken such good care of you, time to return the favour.”

I felt my wrists being released but he tightened the rope linking my elbows; some grease was smeared onto my palms; then Steph's cock found its way between my hands. He pulled me back against him with his right hand. He leaned forward, with flaring nostrils taking in all the aroma from the pungent gagging mass.

“Be soft and gentle,” he whispered in my ear.

It’s tough to say if he fucked my hands or if I wanked him. Anyway, his groaning and the accompanying geyser were signs of an orgasm, so did it truly matter who had caused my hands, back and maybe his belly to be dripping with warm gism?

I heard him pant in my ear, mumbling dirty words of satisfaction. He rested a short while; I kept kneading the deflating piece of flesh. Eventually we withdrew.

He wasn't totally out of it; the next thing he did was to bind my wrists again. Then he had us hop back to the bed and sit on the edge.

Chapter 9: Beyond my wildest dreams

I pricked up my ears. There was noise downstairs. Steph noticed, but he was in no apparent state of panic.

For Steph to remain calm was all fine and dandy, but I wondered whether he'd heard there was someone downstairs. It wasn't time for a robber to break into, as Philippe and I would have been quite unable to scare amount. My concern grounds triggered last from Steph.

“It's okay, Grégory. I was expecting those visitors.”

He tightened a knot as I heard a joyful party climbing the stairs. I immediately identified two voices addressing a third-party.

“He's been obedient so far, why is he getting more difficult?”

“Faster, prisoner!”

I heard some motion on the hall's carpeted floor, a loud smack resounded, and I identified the ensuing muffled grunt as belonging to a boy; he appeared on the threshold. It was Nicolas, whom Hervé and Cédric pushed forward inside their brother's room; shouldn’t I have known, he was adequately trussed up and hobbled, a wide scarf covering his lower face and most certainly hiding more layers over a well-stuffed mouth.

“Here he is, Steph! We did just what you said.” Cédric proudly said.

“He didn’t give you any trouble?”

Hervé frowned; he appeared shocked at the idea that Steph could think they couldn’t manage the straightforward tasks they were assigned.

“We had quite a bit of fun demonstrating how to clean up a captive. I think Nicolas did, too! Anyway, it looks like Greg and Phil had some entertainment themselves.”

What puzzled me most was how they’d managed to complete the ten-minute walk from Steph’s to their home without being seen by anyone, as Nicolas was dressed only in his swim briefs, his arms tightly linked to his torso with white ropes, and his legs hobbled at knees and ankles with no more than a couple inches of slack. I then wondered about Nicolas’ willingness to indulge in the sort of games Philippe and his brothers played.

As he lifted his head and gazed over at Steph. I perceived a smile that reflected in his eyes underneath the heavy scarf encasing his face.

“So, Steph, our mission is complete. We delivered the hostage to you, now we're really exhausted, we’re gonna go to sleep,” Cédric said.

“Sure, don't worry, I'll take it from here.”

He stood up and went to Nicolas. I couldn’t get my eyes off my little swimming team fantasy, aptly clad in just his shiny swimwear, and the intricate rope network encircling him. I had thought it wasn't possible to get even more elated, but yet I was.

“So guys, I've got one last favour to ask from you,” Steph whined as Cédric and Hervé were about to exit the room.

“Sure, what is it?” Hervé replied.

“Could I have your socks for a little game with our friends?”

“You bet!” Both brothers laughed.

They didn't question the purpose that their socks would fulfil; it wasn't a surprise to me at this point. Either they knew, or they really wanted to go to bed; or maybe both. From Philippe’s tales, and the way they handled Nicolas, I had deduced they liked these games as much as their brother did.

But boy! Had they sweated inside their sneakers! They grinned as the fume spread across the room. They had obviously not taken them off since morning. They handed Steph the foul-smelling footwear, patted me on the cheek and Phil on the head.

“Nighty night, friends!”

As Cédric stepped near Nicolas, he loudly smacked his butt again.

“I’m gonna keep you warm, my friend,” he joked.

Then, it was only us three prisoners and Steph; he brought Nicolas right in front of us.

“Three prisoners, this is quite new... it's like,” he paused, looking thoughtful, “a triangle! I think I know what to do.”

Triangle? What on earth did he mean? I soon found out, as he grabbed the polyamide quilt covering Philippe’s bed, and spread it out on the floor. The fluffy material brushed Nicolas’ legs as it went down. The newcomer was puzzled, as far as we could tell from his features hidden behind the various layers that made up his gag.

Once the quilt was thoroughly laid out, Steph grabbed Nicolas’ shoulders and ordered him to lie down on his belly. He helped him so he wouldn’t drop on his knees, and made sure his face didn’t hit the floor as he reached the intended position. It was quite a pleasant sight for me, sitting on the bed’s edge, to hover above the curvy figure of a cute boy well bound; the perk little buttocks wrapped in gleaming navy blue nylon were particularly eye-catching.

I didn’t have much time to marvel at the sight, since Steph turned to me next. He had me stand up, and hop to the quilt. I thought he’d have me lie next to Nicolas, but I turned out to be wrong. He had me stand at the other opposite end of the satiny quilt.

I understood what he was aiming at once I got lowered over the floor as Nicolas had been. Once I was on my knees, it all became clear: my head was going to end over Nicolas’ ass. Philippe was next, and his face soon touched my butt. So the triangle was formed of our torsos!

Steph kneeled and rearranged Phil a bit so Nicolas could also have two round and firm pillows to rest his head upon. He grabbed Philippe’s feet and linked his bound ankles to the rope going between our friend’s shoulder blades. He went on somehow hogtying us, and once our heads were stuck underneath each other’s calves, and pressed against each other’s buttocks, he stood up.

“I’ll sleep on Phil’s bed. You guys will have to stand each other for the time being. I’m not sure you’re too comfortable to sleep, but I wouldn’t bet on all of you disliking it, either… Enjoy!”

He climbed into the bed and soon switched the light off, leaving us to our bizarre predicament. I couldn’t really go to sleep in this position, which was uncomfortable, but I also had my mind reeling with the feel of Nicolas’ soft buttocks on which my face rested and the soft satiny touch of Philippe’s gagged face caressing my own bottom. I could feel he didn’t intend to go to sleep, as he softly stroked me by shaking his head, and running his tape-covered lips over my shorts’ smooth material.

I started doing the same, to enjoy fully the sensation that was provided by the nearness of the long-coveted bum made all the more desirable by the thin layer of nylon that tightly wrapped it.

It seemed Nicolas was getting into the groove too; I could feel him writhing underneath my face. Being in the dark let my fancy fly away, and I was soon adding to the collective contortions by humping the slippery fabric of the quilt.

I felt, rather than heard, Philippe’s groan that informed me of yet another orgasm for my friend. He kept on petting me with his face as his moans decreased in intensity, but my own hips motions got stronger, as did Nicolas’.

We must have come at no more than a two-second interval. I rubbed my face over the supple mounds even stronger as I felt a shiver run from my toes up to the nape of my neck. As I relaxed, I felt the strain forced upon me by the ropes keeping me in in my hogtie. I was also becoming aware of Nicolas’ calves preventing my head from moving.

As the afterglow began to subside, I wondered how long I could stand the strenuous position I was in. I was contemplating the possibility of a cramp and its unpleasant effects when the bedside lamp was switched on.

Chapter 10: Crime and Punishment

“Binding and gagging you guys isn’t enough to keep you quiet,” Steph snarled as he jumped down from the bed.

It appeared the muffled groans we uttered were making sense to him.

“Oh! This is a bit too much for you sissies? All right, I’ll make you comfier, then,” he said as he untied the ropes keeping us in our respective hogties. I was last to undergo his ministrations and I twisted a bit to relax. What he saw apparently caught his eye; he grabbed me and pulled me away from the tangle of bodies before he got me onto my back.

“Let’s see if the others fare any better,” he said with a mysterious tone.

I knew he certainly was referring to the darker shade of navy blue my shorts had certainly acquired around where my cock was. And I knew he wouldn’t be disappointed by Philippe and Nicolas.

“How could I be dumb enough not to know that you’d behave like swine?”

Our angry, though stifled protests fell on dead ears. We were genuinely shocked at such hypocrisy, knowing Steph knew perfectly well what to expect in the first place; obviously, considering the little slack we had to move, and being shorted as we were, we had performed quite a feat managing to spray our sportswear with such enthusiasm. But not expecting this from us? No way he could!

“I’m quite sorry, but I have no choice but to punish you. I’ll get you in a place that’s more convenient to have my fun with you.”

His tortuous thinking no longer puzzled me. After all, it seemed part of the type of activities I had become acquainted with the afternoon before. I actually admired Steph’s stamina, since it had been quite exhausting to take care of one guy; handling three was even more of a challenge. I made a mental note of not going easy on Steph when his turn would come. He deserved some effort.

I was the first he relied on to display his captor skills. He stood me up, loosened up the ropes restraining my legs. He turned towards Philippe.

“I’d like to see if Blondie looks as good as you did when supporting the beam in the kitchen. Not to worry, boys, I won’t be long.”

He briefly considered the two writhing and mumbling boys lying at his feet.

“Let me think… Considering your dirty deeds, I should make sure that you behave while I am gone.”

Philippe and Nicolas were put back on their belly, Steph quickly hogtied them anew, and linked their wrists and ankles with two pieces of rope. I studied how he tied the knot well out of reach of my two friends' hands. He knew what he was doing, and there was no doubt they would stay put for a while.

Steph came to me, and putting his hand between my shoulder blades, he led me downstairs. I was in no state to resist, and I didn't feel like trying anyway. Steph was blabbering about how nasty I was, and how he could punish me properly; meanwhile, he had to keep me safe, and he really wanted to try his hand at tying me the way I had trussed up Phil in the kitchen in the early evening.

It took a while, with Steph fetching more material for his endeavour twice as he proceeded. I was jealous of his knot tying skills. He did it much more naturally than I did; I had to be very careful how I handled rope; Steph had some natural talent for this activity, and he managed to make small talk all the while.

After fifteen or twenty minutes, he was done. I was roped to the beam, wearing only my stained satin shorts. Steph had me try to call for help to check if the gag was still performing its duty well. It did; it didn't prevent my captor to speculate on more thorough ones, and pondering over what piece of his undergarments he would like to stuff into my mouth. He was satisfied with me chewing on the copiously creamed nylon underwear I was sucking on.

“You’re properly fixed. Sorry for not changing your shorts, but I don’t know where there are any clean ones for you. It’ll dry up fast enough, if you don’t squirt out more juice as I get your little friends here and get them all bundled up. I bet you love seeing me playing with them. Or maybe you get off just seeing them so helpless, all bound and gagged. I sure do, so I’ve got an eye for spotting little pervs like you.”

I was filling my shorts again, with Steph detailing how he intended to take care of Philippe and Nicolas. I couldn’t quite picture how he would manage to get them bound and gagged on just one kitchen chair; I relished the idea of having them in an intimate posture.

“Fine. Let me go get our friends so you don't get bored. You enjoy their company, and I do too.”

“Mmmphh! Mmmbll!” I replied ambiguously.

I was left on my own for the first time since I’d come to my friends’ house. I was overwhelmed by what was going on, and the latest description of what was to happen to my friends aroused me. I was a bit worried that I’d be left out, but I didn’t feel jealous at this moment. My mind was racing, trying to process the stimuli overload and doing a poor job at it.

It felt like a very short time when I heard Steph bringing the prisoners down from upstairs. There had been work to harness them with ropes, at least their torsos and arms, and to hobble their legs at knees and ankles. They still wore the same single item of clothing and its distinctive darker patch at the crotch; they looked as attractive as I’d have imagined.

He had added silk scarves to their already well-gagged mouths. A dark navy blue one for Philippe, a black one for Nicolas. Steph had them in tow, and the shortness of the hobbling explained their cautious steps.

“Here we are, let me have our newcomers sit down. I’m polite, you know, Grégory.”

There was a smirk with this. Steph got engrossed into tying them to a chair. First Philippe was tied facing me much as I had found him when I’d first seen how his brothers had trussed him up. Then Nicolas was tied standing behind him with his legs open, his waist, thighs and ankles tied to the piece of furniture with coils of rope. I couldn’t see it, but I pictured how he was pressing his hard cock against Philippe’s back. This had to be a very frustrating sensation.

I was then very surprised. Stephen picked up the knot binding the scarf over Philippe’s mouth.

“It’s only fair that you hear of why you’re here straight from the horse’s mouth. Let me see, my little stallion, how badly you are prevented from whinnying…”

Philippe’s gag was removed.

“Calling me a stud, now?” Philippe smiled as he spat out the drooling nylon he had in his mouth in Steph’s hand. Steph turned to me, and Philippe went on, looking straight into my eyes.

“You look really great, Grégory. As you had me bound like this at dinner, I thought it was how I’d love to see you bound and gagged. It was nice in the bedroom too, you know. I’m really glad you passed the test; you didn’t notice, but my brothers spotted you liked seeing me in shorts, and I spotted several times when watching TV how you reacted to any scene involving tied up boys, or people in general for that matter. So I planned with Steph to have a little initiation ceremony for you. It wasn’t supposed to last this long, but I’m glad it went longer than just a couple hours as we had planned. Thank you for improvising, Steph. See, Grégory, we were supposed to go to Steph’s this evening, once the parents would be back, and we had planned a prank to get you both bound and gagged.”

“When your parents called your brothers, I did see how we could change our plans and still have fun with our two swimmers. Your brothers helped a lot.”

“From what I feel, since he can’t speak, Nicolas is equally happy of what you did to him.”

Nicolas blushed lightly.

“Nicolas has played with us a few times. The more we play, the nastier he gets when he’s the captor, don’t get fooled by his innocent blue eyes. Will you join us too, Grégory?”

I nodded eagerly, grunting loudly in approval.

“You understand I’ll have to retaliate for keeping me prisoner a whole afternoon, evening, and night too if my friend Steph had not eventually released me?”

“Mmmph,” I submitted.

“OK, then, there are a few things to know…”

And Philippe explained truthfully what Steph and he did together. It lasted for close to an hour, because the sun was rising when he stopped. It was very early, but Steph needed help to get breakfast ready. We were all freed; soon we were sitting at the kitchen table, with hot coffee or cocoa, bread, butter and jam.

Our main topic of conversation was how to go on with the game once Philippe’s parents would be back. We discussed several locations, several setups or games. I couldn’t think of having spent a more glorious morning in my life. And that very afternoon, we were able to start up some more fun games, and we would play them for many more years after that.

The end

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Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

Sweaty Tie-Up at the Football Club - Updated March 4th

Postby Bondwriter » Thu Mar 03, 2016 8:59 pm

So, here is the sequel, enjoy. First two chapters of ten.

Sweaty Tie-Up at the Football Club

Chapter 1 – Baiting a Friend

Since Philippe and Grégory had first had a wonderful tie-up weekend, they’d vowed to make it happen again. Grégory had discovered Philippe bound into an armchair by his little brothers, who had offered him to “baby-sit” their older brother. Grégory had discovered his taste for tying up his friend and having all sorts of naughty fun with him. It turned out Philippe had some friends who played with him and they more or less enjoyed the same things. Steph was more into socks, and Nicolas was more into shiny underwear, but they all shared a common interest when it came to binding and gagging their friends in devious but elaborate games.

One evening, in the fall, as they came back from school, Philippe and Grégory had a long talk. The locker room for the football team was remote. It was set in a vast building, and it featured a modicum of furniture: beams, benches, boxes and crates. These could be used for their games. What if they planned for a little Friday night with either Steph or Nicolas as their guest?

They investigated, to find out discretely about their friends’ schedule. It turned out Nicolas was available the next Friday. Over three days, Grégory whined and complained about his poor results in Physics; on the third day, he convinced Nicolas to come for a sleep-over to help him with his studies. Having managed to pull this first part of their plan, the two friends were very eager to try out the new location for playing with Nicolas.

“You see, Philippe, when our parents are here, it’s also a good to have another place to go to for games.”

“This will be perfect! Nicolas will love it.”

Considering the discussion that followed, detailing a number of ways to annoy their friend, a normal reader could have doubted Nicolas reciprocating their enthusiasm.

The plan was to kidnap Nicolas as he arrived at Grégory’s, and then to transport him to the football field, a five-minute walk for an unhampered walker. Grégory had borrowed a handcart from a farmer; it featured a big wooden trunk on it, that would be much too big for just Nicolas, but then they also had bags to take with.

Nicolas got to Grégory’s at five thirty on Friday, proudly sporting his favourite tracksuit, the shiny navy blue one. It was thin and tight enough that he could see his muscles ripple underneath when he took pauses in front of the bathroom mirror. Grégory was most grateful for the way it embraced his buttocks. They were a bit plumper than Philippe’s, which were amazing too, but Nicolas made him feel all very special inside…

A number of complicated ways to trick Nicolas into bondage had been discussed. The more elaborate they were, the less convenient they would be to use. Philippe had convinced Grégory to go for the basic and simple. He’d hide in Grégory’s bedroom, and they would both pounce on Nicolas as he’d come in, Philippe pinning him down while Grégory would bind his legs, then the arms, then they would put some balled-up cotton they’d wanked into in his mouth, then the tape, then the rubber ring covering his lower face, and off they would go, with Nicolas well bundled inside the handcart’s trunk.

It’s actually what happened almost literally, except they had wanked in Philippe’s dirty sock; and it was nylon, not cotton. Nicolas had been Steph’s guest, and he was only mildly disgusted when the thing was stuffed into his mouth. Taking him to the handcart had gone smoothly, and soon they were at the stadium. They had to cross the football field to get to the locker room. Some members of the team called them “the Club House”; they were a bit more elaborate than your average country stadium’s facilities. There was a large shower room and a fully-equipped bathroom. There was a small kitchen, and a big hall with two long tables that could sit thirty people.

Grégory, being a member of the football team, and the nephew of the club’s president, had a key he legitimately owned. His uncle had been the son of the club’s president himself, and had partied quite often when he was a teenager. He didn’t mind his nephews enjoying the same access he had been granted. Grégory had vowed to always return the place in a better state he had found it in; he had kept his word so far. There hadn’t been many parties, one of them being a fiasco: along with Philippe, they had intended to have a little tie-up fun, Grégory having been appointed to the role of kidnap victim. Other players from the club had joined them at the last minute, very straight and very loud boys; a night of drinking had ensued. Philippe and Grégory didn’t partake long, and sneaked into Grégory’s room where the tie-up was brief but led to satisfying climaxes for both partners.

This was ancient history to the two friends now. They stopped the handcart near the door to the hall. It was central; a left door opened on the big meeting room, in the back you entered the locker room and the attached bathroom, and on the right there was a big office, very elegant, with 1920s and 1930s wooden furniture.

As they had packed Nicolas in the handcart, they had ball-tied him rather severely. Grégory and Philippe released quickly the ropes keeping him in the uncomfortable position. His hands were bound in front of him, and his legs untied; they then marched him inside the building, heading straight down the hall to the locker room. Still working in relative silence, except for the occasional “Will you hand me the roll of tape, Phil, please?” the friends proceeded to bind Nicolas to a bench.

It was a very ordinary bench, and soon Nicolas was on his back, his torso harnessed in white rope and fixed to the bench. His legs were splayed open in an impressive frog-tie. Tying his ankles to his thighs just under his buttocks had been easy for the two friends. It wasn’t too comfortable. The weight of his own unbalanced legs gave Nicolas the impression he would fall. There was little chance, with his arms tightly bound to the bench, as was the rest of his torso. Grégory fetched two stools, and they sat at his head, looking down on him with amusement and pride.

Grégory chirped: “Look, he’s wondering why we kidnapped him?”

“First, because we could. And because we feel like it!”

“We may actually give you some explanations,” the cute blonde football player continued, “and we should. If only to let you know we intend to keep you here until some time tomorrow morning.”

Nicolas’ eyes grew wide above the rubber covering his lower face. His mmph was one of genuine surprise.

“Since that time you were bound and gagged along with us by Philippe’s little brothers and Steph, I’ve… Well, I’ve actually seriously obsessed about seeing you bound and gagged again. And in your cute, skimpy Speedos, you’re so cute.”

Nicolas sighed, his swimwear being Arena and not Speedos, but he couldn’t clarify this point. Plus he was still fully dressed in his track suit, so no swimwear was actually visible. Grégory went on.

“We’ve got the place for ourselves, there’s a football match at the other club of the town, so no hooligans who could barge in on us and either free you or have some rough fun with you. We just plan to experiment with you, don’t we, Phil?”

“Yes, Grégory here tells me he’s never managed to cum more than seven times on the same day. I’m sure that most boys can cum up to ten times. Me, it’s twelve or thirteen, if you want to know. So I said, Grégory, let us snap any boy, and I’m sure we can make him cum at least ten times.”

Grégory was listening to his friend as his hand slowly went down to rest on Nicolas’ thigh.

“Seven times, that’s nothing. I’m sure you will help me to demonstrate how wrong Greg is.”

The reply was a small inquisitive nasal whine; or was the faint cry a response to Grégory’s hand that had moved a little higher up his thigh?

“I’ve said to Grégory, see, Nicolas loves shiny and slick stuff, it excites him a lot, I’m sure if you wank him with a piece of nylon, he’ll become a geyser!”

This time, Grégory’s thumb and index finger pinching Nicolas’ glans through the stretchy fabric was the cause of the long moan.

“You’re right Phil, our Nic is super excited, but once he’ll have released some spunk, he will be completely down.”

Grégory took his hand away from his bound friend’s crotch; the ensuing moan this time clearly expressed despair and frustration as a possible pleasant hand job was postponed, if not totally cancelled.

Philippe jumped off the stool, followed by his blond friend, and they kneeled on each side of the bench, like the ox and the ass overlooking the baby Jesus. Thankfully they had hands rather than hooves, which was more adapted to caress his torso. Philippe reached for the zipper of the track-suit jacket, and slowly pulled it down as Grégory was caressing Nicolas’ belly that was still covered.

Philippe saw to it that it wouldn’t be the case for long, as he unzipped the jacket all the way, pushing his friend’s hand aside for a second. He looked into Nicolas’s eyes.

“Another theory of Grégory’s is that tickling prevents orgasm. My take is that it favours it.”

Nicolas felt out of luck; his feet, his armpits and the area just above his pubis were highly sensitive; it was very unpleasant being tickled, so he couldn’t understand why it got him hard as a rock every time. Actually, Steph tickling his feet with his nimble fingers sometimes was enough to have him cum; this was a feat Nicolas was one of the rare people to achieve.

Philippe was becoming aware of how difficult it is to remove a person wrapped in ropes’ clothing, as he could barely pull the jacket’s tails apart. He uncovered a small area that happened to be bright blue, since Nicolas had his tee-shirt underneath. This would have to do, and Philippe set out compensating the presence of the cotton with an extra-delicate finger work.

Soon, Nicolas’ writhing tested the strength of his bindings. They held on, even when Grégory attacked anew, this time sliding his hand down Nicolas’ pants and grabbing his cock with his fingers, his thumb gyrating around Nicolas’ cock head.

The writhing didn’t increase as Nicolas was overwhelmed by pleasure; he copiously basted his underwear with boy sauce. Grégory took his hand out, wiping it over Nicolas’ tee-shirt.

“He won’t go six more times, Phil. We’ll get him off two or three times easy, but six?”

Philippe stopped tormenting Nicolas with his fingers. The bound boy breathed deeply through his nose.

“Are you kidding? Our little friend here won’t take more than two minutes to come next time, and same think the nine or ten times after that. Of course, my special wanking mitt will do the trick. Speaking of which…”

Chapter 2 – Experimenting with Nicolas

The two acolytes stood shoulder to shoulder at Nicolas’ belly level; they plunged their hands in each other’s nylon shorts; they kneaded and prodded and as they felt it was time, they pulled each other’s cock out to let them spit over Nicolas’ belly.

It had been less than an hour since Nicolas had been jumped on; he wondered what could happen to him over the course of an entire night. Tickling. Nylon. Philippe knew which buttons to push, and no doubt teenage heartthrob-boy would quickly learn from his black-haired friend.

Philippe and Grégory stood panting, a weird grin over their face. Their heavy breathing gave way to chuckles, as they came out of their post-orgasmic phase.

“Man,” Grégory said, “I needed this! Having such a horny little bundle just for ourselves, that’s hot!”

“It is. And the evening is just starting. We should make him a little more comfortable, maybe. This frogtie must be tough without a rope between his knees.”

Nicolas agreed with a nod. Trying to keep some support for his knees on the bench needed much effort for his adductor muscles. Kneeling at his sides, his friends took care of one leg each, untying the knots that kept his calves tight against his thighs. Holding his ankles, they brought his feet to the floor.

“Let’s remove his shoes and socks.”

This was done in seconds with no interference from the prisoner. If you don’t count the groan following the remark about his feet smelling, that is.

“These track-suit pants look great. I’m afraid they might keep Nic much too hot, after our little treatment.”

Grégory got the cue. Turning to Nicolas’ waist, the boys grabbed the pants’ waistband with the care they would use handling radioactive material.

“Time to inspect our little friend’s underwear, Phil.”

Grégory would see that Nicolas was wearing Arena swimwear. Nicolas had three pairs of the same navy blue ones, on top of the one he used at the pool, so he could use them as his regular underwear. They would have been high-rise briefs, the waist line being just below his navel. The Lycra was super shiny; Nicolas loved how it wrapped his crotch and his buttocks.

He had an inkling Grégory liked it too. He’d said so, in the aftermath of their little game at Philippe’s the previous summer, when Steph had tied his three friends so they would each have each other’s bottom as a pillow. Grégory had been given Nicolas’; he had clearly stated his enthusiasm a few hours later, when they’d gathered around the breakfast table.

The depantsing started at the count of three. They pulled slowly, and Grégory was amazed the swim briefs stuck in place, the pants’ waistband gliding unhampered over the gleaming swimwear. Nicolas chose the moment the top of his pants was at the top of his thighs to try to kick.

“Bad move,” Philippe said as he effortlessly grabbed Nicolas’ leg with his free hand. Grégory had a little more trouble, but within a few seconds Nicolas was completely harmless again.

“We’ll have to discuss a punishment, Phil. We must let Nic know what he can’t do.”

“You’re right. We may clear things up a bit. It’s not very complicated anyway. He must do what we tell him. The rest is forbidden. I agree we should make up some punishments, though. But let’s finish our job…” The pants were pulled down the thighs, and then they raised his left ankle, to remove the leg of the pants completely. It was easy from there to pull off the right one.

“Now he is in his favourite casual wear, we’ll kindly make sure he can’t offend us with his legs. Go get the long cotton rope, Greg, I’ll hold to his ankles while you go.”

Grégory just had to move five steps away to one of their big bags. The long rope was tied to the bench, with a clove hitch between Nicolas’ knees. The two equal lengths of rope were then threaded symmetrically to immobilize Nicolas’ legs. Four coils around the thighs on each side, just above the bent knee, then one more turn around the bench, a reef knot to prevent slipping; the remaining lengths of rope were then pulled downwards, and the two abductors crossed the ankles to test their skills at lashing.

Nicolas could move his feet back and forth a little; he positioned them so his toes would rest on the floor without putting too much strain on his thighs and knees, as they were stuck to the bench’s side. He found a position which didn’t hurt; he could now focus on watching what the two accomplices were up to next. Philippe came with a towel and wiped most of the cum over Nicolas’ tee-shirt; he did a more conscious job on Nicolas’ underwear, his crotch being completely wet, small gobs of the whitish emission having come through the fabric. He took his time, pulling his friend’s underwear to wipe his penis also.

“Calm down, Nicolas, we’re almost ready for round two, but I need your underwear and what’s underneath to be dry. There’ll be a stain, but nothing a little sucking on it later won’t remove.”

He went on, rubbing the underwear on both sides with the dry parts of the towel, occasionally pushing away the flaccid dick, taunting the captive for his impatience.

Nicolas didn’t mind them running their experiment to the end. Seeing Grégory bent over a bag from behind caused a renewal of his arousal. Grégory turned around. What Nicolas saw didn’t dampen his excitement.

Grégory had his hands wrapped in nylon. Philippe did too, having very temporarily disappeared from the bound boy’s sight. He boasted: ‘Here are the mitts, Nicolas. The WANKING mitts. I made them myself; it’s basic, I’m not a tailor, but two pieces cut in old shorts following the line of my hand, a little thread and a needle to sew them together, and voilà! Wonderful gloves. I did Grégory’s too!”

Nicolas stared in disbelief. The sheen of the homemade gloves meant he would feel maximum pleasure.

The two friends kneeled back at Nicolas’ sides, ready to go for the second round of their little experiment. They started kneading the thighs; Grégory marvelled at the stimulating effect. He then rubbed the underwear, trying to find the best angle for his hand to achieve the smoothest gliding possible. He was lucky: it worked the best with his hand perpendicular to Nicolas’ length. It meant that he could rub up and down the underwear with the best stimulation.

He got to work on the crux of the matter very quickly. After having repositioned Nicolas’ hard cock with the tip just below the waistband, he carefully laid his hand over the wrapped penis. Little motions got the desired effect. The squirming could now be felt; Grégory wanted to be proved right, though. He stopped, removing his hand. A long moan of frustration echoed in the locker room.

Philippe came to the rescue. He had opposite interests, so he took over, after five minutes of giving a nylon foot massage, with minimal tickling. His invention worked really well, and he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.

He had to take a slightly more slanted angle than Grégory, but it was equally easy to achieve the same result.

“I’m your friend, Nicolas. Together we’ll make it. We’re going to prove that any boy can become a cum fount…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence as the body under his hand writhed. The moans were louder, higher pitched and semen spurted out from below the waist-band of the briefs, spreading over the little flesh visible below the tee-shirt.

“Two down, eight to go,” Philippe smirked. “I’m going to win the bet, Grégory.”

“Not sure. He may collapse after four or five good wanks.”

“Let’s check out, then. Your turn to clean him up.”

Grégory got a clean towel and took his time getting the playing field ready again. He scolded Nicolas whose cock grew hard again during the mopping. This enthusiastic response could really mean he would lose the wager. Indeed, the next forty-five minutes of their intensive care got the score to four.

“He’s a horny runt,” Grégory said, wiping sweat from his brow as the activity had gotten him hot too. “I say we get him tied up another way, kneeling is getting a bit tiring.”

“Sure, what do you suggest? Should we try for something a bit stricter?”

“We could hogtie him and have fun with his feet,” the mischievous blond offered.

“Great idea. I’ve been thinking of using the wanking gloves with a hogtied captive. I’m sure I know a way to get this particular captive explode in his Lycra again. Where should we hogtie him?”

“What about the platform over there?” Grégory said, pointing to the corner of the locker room. There was a slab of concrete, a square with sides just under two metres; it was atop supporting walls one metre high, which made a platform that usually was used to throw dirty clothing before heading to the showers in the next room. It matched the staircase heading to the large cellar on the other side of the wall.

To get Nicolas lying over his belly on the painted cement top, he had to be freed from the bench first. Grégory and Philippe took their time, so no kicking or excessive struggling could be attempted. They bound him hand and foot (and ankles, knees, elbows, arms…) before they had him hop to the location for his next ordeal. They were sitting him down on the smooth concrete when Grégory wondered about the best way to dress their prisoner.

“I’m sure Nicolas has clean swimwear in his backpack. It will make it easier to arouse him. Let me see…”

Philippe loosened Nicolas’ bonds in preparation for the coming hogtie, as Grégory went to one of the big bags, the black one where he’d stuck Nicolas’ stuff once they’d successfully had him bound and gagged inside his bedroom. He pulled the small backpack out, and searched his contents for clothing. As he’d laid his hands over a clean pair of Arena briefs, blessing the fact that they were the same as the ones Nicolas wore, he saw a note; Grégory wasn’t too nosy, but the “Super Secret” mention printed in red letters caught his attention. He knew of one person who sent such messages. It was Steph, his ex foe turned tie-up playmate.

Grégory turned to where Philippe and Nicolas were. As the latter noticed what the blond cutie had in his hands, his eyes opened wide and a long muffled wail expressed distress. Grégory was even more eager to read the note now! He unfolded the paper. He looked down. It was a message written in code, one in which the alphabet is shifted by a set number of letters.

Nicolas’ concern was more over the fact that he had deciphered the message directly by writing the proper letter from his key just under the coded text. Steph had passed him the note during their last class of the day, and Nicolas hadn’t thought of throwing it in the bin when he had left. He had put it with his clothes as he’d thought of not having it with his study material if he took it out in front of Grégory.

“This is very nice to spare us the effort to know what the code is, Nicky. I’m sure Phil wouldn’t have minded a little torture. Don’t worry, Phil, we’ll have to torture him anyway. But he’s going to have some company.”

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Sweaty Tie-Up Saga Ch. 3 (m/m) - March 6th

Postby Bondwriter » Sun Mar 06, 2016 12:21 am

Chapter 3 – Thwarting a Plot

Nicolas’ pitiful attempts at requesting mercy fell on deaf ears; he got quieter, listening to what Grégory had to say next.

“Here is what Steph wrote to our little Nicky: ‘OK for attack at midnight. Make sure Greg is in his bedroom.’ This is short, and it could be interpreted different ways, I guess. But I know what it means to these rascals. They were planning to kidnap me.”

Nicolas’ moans could be heard again, and it sounded as if he tried to either apologize or deny it was his idea.

“Sorry, Nicky, but you’re confirming what I thought. We’ll have to neutralize Steph before midnight. The sooner, the better, actually, so his accomplice can have company. I’m sure Steph will help us out for the challenge too. Wouldn’t it be nice to rub against him once we have him bound and gagged?”

The ensuing moan betrayed a change in Nicolas’ state of mind. His unchanged underwear got a little wet patch anew, as annoyance disappeared from his groans, which now sounded more like ecstasy. Philippe laughed.

“He didn’t protest too long. Don’t worry, Nicolas, we’re going to make sure you get tons of excitement from your captivity. I’ll let Grégory decide on the brunt of your punishment. For now, we need a plan to lure Steph here. Let me think.”

Philippe looked at Grégory; he was thinking hard, and after a few seconds of displaying an intensely reflective face, he grinned.

“Isn’t there a Dictaphone in the office, Greg?”

Grégory caught on immediately.

“There sure is. I’ll go get it while you think of what Nicolas should say. Brill idea, Philippe.”

Nicolas couldn’t believe the telepathic powers his friends had. He was left with Philippe, still sitting next to him; his captor wrapped his arm around his shoulders in a friendly and supportive manner. He took Nicolas’ chin with the tip of his thumb and index finger, turning his face towards his.

“Now, my friend, we’ve discussed this kind of situation with Greg before. Having a fake recording and playing it to trick a friend into coming over; this was what we wanted to do, though with a more complicated plan. You’ll just need to say what we’ll tell you. By the way, it will be a chance for you to get something to drink; you must be thirsty with the gag and all the sweating.”

Nicolas agreed with a nod. Philippe saw an opportunity to put in a more demanding gag afterwards too, but he didn’t want to antagonize his victim straight away by explaining this. They needed some cooperation, even if they had incentives available to make Nicolas obey.

“You will have to say just a few words, and pretend you’re in a hurry and that you’re at risk of being caught calling. Then we can hang up before Steph has time to ask a question.”

Grégory was back, pulling a trolley with one hand, the Dictaphone in the other.

“I thought we should take him with us when we call Steph; this cart will help.”

It was a very basic cart, one used to pile boxes on, with no walls, four big wheels and a handle to push it.

“So, Phil, what should we have our young conspirator say? Let me get something to write it down…”

He gathered a notepad and a pencil; he walked in front of his friend and their captive, waiting for the message he would have to write down. After a little back and forth between the two jailers, the final message was ready.

“OK, Nicky,” Philippe said, we’re going to remove your gag and give you a drink so you don’t sound like you’ve got a frog in your throat. No screaming, no insult, if I need to warn you again. If you don’t cooperate and play your part as we tell you to, we can do without this trick. We just need to head back to Grégory’s and wait for Steph. And you don’t want us to have to deal with you then.”

Grégory was impressed by Philippe’s villain persona. Had he not known him, he would have been upset by the threatening tone. Now he saw Philippe’s expert gestures to remove the layers of rubber and tape before he offered his bare hand to Nicolas, who spat the soiled nylon socks.

“You’ve sucked on this well; I hope you liked our juices.”

Nicolas didn’t take the bait and said nothing. He was watered, and the recording session started.

After half an hour of toil, there were three acceptable takes laid out on the tape. The third one was the best: Nicolas whispered, sounded concerned, and he spoke fast enough that Steph wouldn’t interrupt him. He was rewarded by a snack, as Grégory got a pack of biscuits out. Philippe took one, and offered him to Nicolas. He shoved the biscuit in his mouth and playfully laid his sweaty hand over the prisoner’s lower face.

“Chew well, Nicky, I can feel if you’re doing a nice job or not.”

Once he’d properly chewed and swallowed, Nicolas was fed a second biscuit in the same fashion. He was too focused on the relief this provided to notice that Grégory was gathering the necessary stuff for a more permanent gag once he’d be fed and watered by Philippe.

A couple minutes later, as Philippe was holding a small water bottle to Nicolas’ lips so his thirst would be quenched for a while, Grégory approached with the first items to gag Nicolas. The boy was crossing his eyes over the water bottle; he was too busy getting relief to notice the signs his tormentors exchanged. Philippe knew what part he had to play.

“All right, Nicolas,” he said as he tipped the bottle so no liquid would flow out, though keeping it well against Nicolas’ teeth, “I’m going to remove the bottle and you’re going to open your mouth wide. Grégory needs to stuff it well. If we take you with us to make the phone call, we need to make sure you can’t warn Steph. And we will.”

Nicolas knew it was the case. The finding of the note had definitely made him accept his fate. He could not hope to avoid revenge with such a big mistake. As the bottle left his lips, he opened his mouth slowly, until his jaws were stretched out wide, his tongue flattened down so it wouldn’t be in the way of what he saw coming. It wasn’t too bad, it was a single football sock. Grégory had rolled it from the top, leaving half the foot flowing from the big nylon ball he had obtained.

As the ball filled his mouth, Nicolas realized it had to be Grégory’s sock. The end was left hanging out of his mouth, and the smell of the toes that were a few inches from his nostrils that it belonged to Grégory himself; except maybe for Steph, he didn’t know many boys who had such a distinct, savage feet smell.

Philippe held Nicolas’ chin, his index finger pushing the sock’s toes over his charge’s nose, his other hand cupped behind his head, preventing any motion or opening of the jaws. Grégory snatched the end of a roll of duct tape, sticking it over Nicolas’ left cheek, before slowly turning around Nicolas’ head, once, then twice and eventually a third time before he tore of the tape and smoothed the end over the previous layers.

The sock’s toes hung out from underneath the tape; this time, they were right under Nicolas’ nostrils. This was quite a gag, Nicolas thought.

“This makes for a proper foundation. Let’s build upon it a bit so we have total silence,” Philippe remarked, his prisoner realizing that of course, this wasn’t enough for the two gag fiends.

The rubber swim cap, the 3-metre roll of coban wrap and the extra turns of wide white surgical tape imprisoned his jaws further. He didn’t know whether this muted him further, but it certainly felt like it.

They then undertook to get him ready to come along with them. They removed his legs’ ropes and changed his underwear, before they tightly wrapped them in another inextricable criss-crossing. They laid him over the concrete slab, over his belly, and they spent ten minutes putting him in a tight but sustainable hogtie. Grégory was very excited at how tight they’d pulled his legs towards his butt, Nicolas’ heels brushing against his Lycra briefs in the sexiest manner for the blond TuGs player.

“Nice little bundle we have here, Grégory. Let’s get him onto the cart. Don’t wriggle around, Nicky, we wouldn’t want to have to go to the A&E for a broken nose.”

Philippe and Grégory had practiced this a bit, so they picked him up only once they were certain they had a complete grasp of Nicolas. They positioned themselves so they would control the bound body all over the course of the short transportation. They would each have a hand holding his arm, under his armpits, the other under his thighs.

At the count of three, they lifted him and laid him a few feet lower on the trolley. They added the bags next to him, some even on his bound arms, and with Philippe opening the way and Grégory pushing the cart, they walked the fifty metres that separated them from the office.

Nicolas was left on the cart; he could only see the carpet, with his eyes being just a little over the edge of the cart bottom. But he could hear…

Grégory dialled a number. He spoke a few seconds later, trying to have a lower voice than he had.

“Sorry for calling at nine, Mrs Blitter.” This was Steph’s mom. Maybe Steph wouldn’t be there?

“Is Steph home?” Someone was answering in the phone.

“I’ll hang on, thank you, Mrs Blitter, have a nice evening…”

Steph was on the line soon, as a mmphing Nicolas could hear his own voice whispering his message.

“Steph, I can’t speak long, Greg went to the loo. He convinced me to come with him at the Club House. That’s where I am. You don’t have to wait until midnight to strike. We’re on our own. Come quick.” There was a micro second of silence, but before Steph had the time to reply, Nicolas spoke again.

“Greg’s coming, got to go, come fast!”

Nicolas heard the receiver being put in its cradle.

“We just need to wait and see if our plan worked,” Grégory chirped, “Let’s make sure we welcome Steph with all the attention his case requires.”

“Right, Greg. We should stage his arrival, with Nicolas a major prop in it.”

“Good, should we put him up on the desk, so Steph can admire his hogtie as soon as he enters?”

“We could; I wouldn’t mind using this nice chair,” Philippe pointed to the big executive chair behind the desk. The seat and back had leather upholstery; it was worn, but regular maintenance and cleaning gave it an impressive sheen.

Grégory looked disappointed. Philippe noticed his friend’s frown.

“Don’t worry, Greg, we’ll have Nicolas and Steph share the joys of the hogtie later on. As king of the party, Nicolas should be sat upon a throne, though…”

After a quick discussion, about whether tying his arms behind his back or to the armrests, with the latter solution being adopted, in case of a lengthy wait, the two comrades undertook their new moving task.

Nicolas was grateful for his legs being released. He was stood up, his ankles and wrists still restrained. Grégory held him while Philippe went behind the desk. The chair was relatively modern; it didn’t have four legs, as the seat sat upon a big metal stand, with a star-shaped base of five branches set on wheels.

They sat Nicolas well in the back of the chair. His arms were in the way, so they took care of this detail first. Philippe and Grégory were very cautious in their handling, leaving no room for an attempt at rebellion; Nicolas’ submissiveness could be a trick; they had to keep aware of any of his moves in any case.

The right arm was first, the left one being kept tied behind his back. The armrests were wide and long; they laid his forearm over the length, with his fingertips at the end. While Philippe held the forearm in place, Grégory wrapped coban wrap around, starting at the end. His fingers, then his wrists, and his whole forearm were eventually closely united to the padded armrest. The left arm followed.

“Good job, Greg, I’ll take care of his legs; you could tidy up his clothing and strap him so he doesn’t fall.”

“Sure. I’ll make sure he can’t hurt himself.”

The protest was faint; it allowed Grégory to scold his captive nevertheless.

“Stop moaning, Nicky. Can’t you be grateful for all our attention?”

“He is grateful, Greg, if the bulge in his briefs is to be believed. Don’t get too excited, Nicky. If I see a wet patch, you’ll get a penalty.”


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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 6th

Postby alex967 » Sun Mar 06, 2016 8:36 am

Nice story! Keep writting!

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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 6th

Postby sarumansauron » Tue Mar 08, 2016 6:15 pm

Great story! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

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STU At the FootballClub (m/m) Ch. 4 & 5 - Updated March 12th

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Mar 12, 2016 4:08 am

Chapter 4 – Tables Turn

Grégory was untangling wide nylon straps, the kind used to fix cargo to a car’s roof. They were two inches wide, and the buckles made it possible to tighten them quite fast, while releasing the pressure in a split second with one finger.

“That’s right, a penalty. Any idea about punishing our prisoners tonight, Phil?”

“Tickling, spanking, or being put into a dark locker for a few hours. I was thinking of awarding penalties with points, depending on how they break the rules,” Phil answered as he was starting to strengthen the rings made of four or six turns of rope wrapped around Nicolas’ lower limbs at ankles, above and below the knees and at the top of the boy’s bare fleshy thighs. “We’ll have to decide once we’ve got Steph under control too. For now,” he said addressing Nicolas, “we make sure that you can’t misbehave.”

Grégory laughed. He had tightened three straps around Nicolas’ torso, right under his armpits, under his ribcage, with a final strap around his waist. Nicolas sat upright, as he was pinned to the armchair.

“He won’t fall from the chair. I’ll make sure he has to keep his head straight too. Let me see, the long white strip…”

Grégory searched his bag. “I think we should give my wannabe kidnappers a chance to prove their worth,” the blond boy said as he pulled a long rolled piece of material from his bag. It was made of an old silk square that had been cut in three, the three lengths having then been sewn carefully by Philippe who was the one with sewing machine expertise. It was over three metres long.

Grégory first raised the little bit of sock peeking above the duct tape so it would cover the boy’s nose; then he laid he middle of this long strip over Nicolas’ lower face, covering the nose this time and trapping the stinky toes over his nostrils, making the smelly torture inescapable. “I’m sure you have ideas on how to try our friends, Phil.”

Philippe was busy tying Nicolas’ legs again, pulling them backwards, and knotting the ends of the rope encircling his ankles to the chair’s central stand.

“You’re right. Don’t forget we already have an experiment going on with this one.”

Nicolas wailed from behind the powerful muting gag; Grégory had tied the silk scarf behind his neck, and was now wrapping it around the chair’s back. A solid knot behind, and Nicolas’ head was now almost completely immobile. Nicolas knew the experiment wouldn’t be forgotten; the worst was that he couldn’t repress his desire; what would happen once Steph would be there? He hoped that his friend would escape Philippe and Grégory’s claws. He didn’t feel any major embarrassment from the treatment he’d been given; strangely, he felt very ashamed thinking his captors could see how much Steph aroused him.

For now as he tried out his bonds, his body language or his speech couldn’t betray his feelings. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak, the two friends had him all trussed and gagged; they were done now.

“Let’s set the chair so Steph sees Nicolas tied to it, he steps in to rescue him and we jump him and truss him up.”

“Are you sure he’ll get into your trap?”

“Of course. The beauty of the plan lies in its simplicity. We’ve discussed this only last week, Greg. Plans should be kept simple; if it’s too complex, it’s doomed.”

Thus, with Nicolas kept in the office, just a couple metres in front of the closed door, their waiting started. Philippe had gone to switch the light off in the rest of the Club House; the office would be the beacon leading the curious boy inside their net.

The captors rambled about the best ways to punish and discipline Steph and Nicolas; this didn’t get the bound and gagged boy more appeased; Nicolas hoped that his hard-on wouldn’t have him leak pre-cum. He tried to think of things that turned him off, but his friends’ chat made his endeavour futile.

“Oh, yes, Greg, I’m sure they’ll love being bound to each other. We may have a ‘Who cums first?’ contest, it would be fun.”

The discussion about how they would take care of the boys’ limbs, mouths and nose went on with more and more excitement in the accomplices’ voices. It was not even ten minutes later when they heard the main entrance door open, even though very discretely.

The subdued sound of rubber plimsolls could be perceived behind the door. Nicolas started humming and grunting, producing all the warning sounds his severe gag allowed.

Philippe and Grégory hid on the side of the thick door’s hinge. Thankfully, it ran the whole height and one couldn’t peek between with the door ajar, so it was less likely Steph would see them. They didn’t move; they knew they had to wait until he entered completely; Philippe was keeping ready to snap the door shut with his foot, and Grégory clung to the piece of rope he would wrap around Steph’s arms, at shoulders level.

Philippe couldn’t believe how well it worked. The door opened slowly. They heard Steph’s voice. Soon after, he was enthusiastically walking in the lion’s den.

“Damn! Nick! What happened? Where is Grégo…”

“Right here, Steph,” Grégory sniggered as he ensnared the newcomer’s arms in his rope loop.

“And I’m here too,” Philippe said as he applied the rugby catch he’d learned, which consisted in embracing his waist with his arms and then letting them slide so his legs would be trapped and he would be brought down to the floor.

The trio rolled down on the floor; Steph was fighting eagerly. Grégory and Philippe lost their grasp as he writhed and kicked.

“Hold his ankles, Phil I’ll sit on his shoulders,” Grégory piped, clinging to the rope around Steph’s shoulders.

Nicolas could only watch in despair as his friend was about to share his fate. Then he spotted two shapes in the doorframe. They were tiptoeing; Nicolas immediately recognized: Cédric and Hervé, Philippe’s younger brothers. They had played kidnap with him too, they could be as ruthless as their older brother.

Cédric smiled, looking at him, a finger over his lips, ironically letting him know to remain quiet. Considering the very strict gagging he had been subjected to, there was little chance he could warn anyone of anything. He was not likely to give away potential rescuers anyway.

In Cédric’s other hand, chrome metal twinkled; both boys had handcuffs ready. Nicolas held his breath, hoping that the manacles were meant for Philippe and Grégory.

“Let me go,” Steph yelled, still untamed by the duo, “let me go if you know what’s good for you.”

Philippe laughed. “We know what’s good for us; it’s to make you our prisoner!”

“So be it,” Steph said as Grégory was trying to keep his arm in an arm lock, and failing because of Steph’s relentless twisting.

This triggered action from the two newcomers. Cédric took on his older brother, who was a bit taller and heavier, but not this much; Hervé jumped on Grégory, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and taking him down as Steph could now disentangle from the mass of flesh that weighed on him.

Philippe saw the handcuff that clicked shut over his left wrist too late. His arm was extending to the side, as he tried to grab Steph’s knee to pin him down and let Grégory get on with tying his arms. Once the bracelet had imprisoned his wrist, his left arm was pulled back violently, eliciting a moan, more from surprise than from pain.

“Ugh. Hey, What the…”

He stopped right on as he realized what was going on; the issue was that now his right wrist was also handcuffed. Worse yet, Philippe at last identified Grégory’s attacker as Hervé; it was obvious that his blond friend was in no better state than he was .Steph had helped his 12-year old brother to bring their antagonist’s hands behind his back and put the restraining bracelets around his wrists.

Philippe emulated Steph’s fighting spirit, but lying face down, with his brother sitting on his bum, he didn’t manage to buck and eject the rascal. His legs pushed, tried to kick, but the young cowboy was winning the rodeo. Meanwhile, Grégory was having a fit, as Hervé had tied his knees in rope,

“You bastards, you’ll pay for this,” he screamed in his high-pitched voice, now completely out of control, “we just wanted to play fun games, but if you want war, then mmmmph! Mmmbllmm!”

Steph gloated, a hand tightly clamped over Grégory’s lower face.

“I’m going to be very nice and ensure you don’t say things you’ll regret later on. I’ve got him, Hervé. Go help Cédric to tie Philippe up.”

Steph was sitting between Grégory’s shoulder blades. The blond boy fumed, as he couldn’t get his attacker off him, no matter how hard he tried. He could just listen to Philippe, threatening his brothers as Hervé looped ropes around his knees and ankles.

“Bastards, we’ll make you wish you’d never been born. I’ll give you a last chance. Free us or mmph…”

Philippe’s legs being restrained, Cédric had slid forward and adopted Steph’s position to keep Philippe steady, and to handgag him too.

“As Steph said, we are nice and we won’t let you insult us. We’d have to punish you, and we’re not this mean. Hervé, get something to pack these noisy boys’ mouths.”

As the younger boy seemed puzzled, Steph gave him a clue.

“There must be socks or some clothes in the locker room; something that fits in their mouth and silences them.”

Hervé was Philippe’s younger brother; he was not ignorant of gags and the qualities they required.

“I’ll get what you need, Steph, don’t worry.”

Grégory and Philippe writhed, moaned and complained. Philippe almost managed to get his younger brother off his back. The future seemed bleak for them.

Having taken care of Nicolas’ attackers, Steph turned to the victim:

“Hang on, Nico, once these two are fully neutralized, I’ll come and rescue you.”

“Mmm,” the gagged boy faintly thanked.

Turning to Grégory, Steph went on.

“My, Grégory, you’re quite the daft one, aren’t you. Or maybe you losers needed both your brains to cook up such a brilliant plan.”

Philippe grunted, approvingly as he wouldn’t let his friend take the blame on his own.

“Glad you don’t pass the buck, Phil. I might be a bit more lenient, though I can’t vouch for Nicky; it seems we’ll have to wait a bit more before he can let you know how he feels about this. Hey, Hervé, you’re back! What did you get?”

“These!” he exclaimed proudly, waving garments around. Turning their backs to him, Philippe and Grégory couldn’t see what caused Steph and Cédric to giggle. They didn’t really want to find out, though.

Chapter 5 – Handling the Attackers

The younger boy didn’t let them in the dark for long. Hervé stepped in front of the four boys, and the handgags had to be kept tight to muffle the indignant reactions to the handful of clothing. The explanations didn’t calm them down, but Cédric and Steph held on tight throughout.

“I have a hard time believing how little care these guys in the team show for their things. I mean, our mom hates it when we lose clothes. Even Philippe takes care of getting everything in his sports bag after PE. And he’s not the best at keeping his room tidy. But look how nice he looks in his black shorts.”

Both captured acolytes wore their classic football kits, with clinging, thick and very shiny shorts. Grégory’s were red and hugging. Steph found a position where he was rubbing his own satin clad buttocks against Grégory’s. Brushing over a bound and gagged Grégory’ to keep him pinned down and handgagged: that was the life!

Cédric had to add some pressure to his older brother whose bucking and twisting failed.

“Keep him in line, Ced, I’m not done talking. So, with a little searching, I came up with some really interesting stuff.”

Grégory could see that indeed, there was underwear and socks, though as it was all bundled in Hervé’s hand, he couldn’t yet see what exactly it was. He cursed; Steph’s hand prevented his insult to be voiced out. The blond boy regretted that there were no locks on the lockers; theft was unheard of in the team. Not much was stored in them anyway. The amount of storage still allowed for some fine discoveries by the younger boy.

“So, here is what careless boys left lying around in the locker room: three mismatched socks, two jock straps, and more curiously, two pairs of Speedos.”

“Yeah,” Steph commented, “Lots of people in the team put swimwear on so they can shower without getting in the nude. I’ve never really understood this.”

Hervé brought one pair of the nylon underwear to his nose. He didn’t bring it very close.

“Pew! I can assure you this hasn’t been showered.”

Grégory identified the orange swimwear. It belonged to David, also known as ‘the Swine’, though considering his bulk, he wouldn’t have called him this to his face. The Swine was fifteen centimetres taller than he was, and at least twenty-five kilos heavier, even though he wasn’t more than a year older. The nickname hadn’t been chosen only because of his build; his hygiene was the main target of the derogatory naming.

Hervé moved to hand his trove out to Steph.

“Let me see, I see a bag behind the desk. Maybe Phil and Greg have brought some stuff too.”

Having his hands occupied, the young ‘wrestler’ declined the offer.

“Just put them in front of Greg, so he can choose what he will have in his mouth.”


“You want the foulest one, is that it?”

The mocking got Grégory to quiet down. His senses were assailed by the bodily odours trapped in the various pieces of nylon.

“It seems they made sure Nicolas had some nice things to smell too,” Hervé commented. He’d picked up one of the bags that contained the dirty clothes the boy’s kidnappers had brought with for their evening of fun. The little boy was bending over the prisoner tied on his chair; he could see the sock kept under his nostril by the long material strip pinning his head to the chair.

“Mmm! Mmmbbllmm?” Nicolas pleaded, eager to be freed from the strenuous position and to join in the fun of payback.

“Don’t be impatient, Nicky. Steph told you before; we need to secure the situation with Phil and Greg first.”

Steph found it hilarious how the younger boy patted the prisoner’s in a condescending manner.

“Hervé’s right, Nic. Don’t antagonize him, or me for that matter. We’re your rescuers, show a little respect! So, anything interesting, Herv?”

“Kind of,” he replied, turning from the captive and stepping to the desk; he pulled his finds from the bag one by one, sniffing them briefly before putting them on the tabletop, “These are Philippe’s nylon briefs… These socks aren’t my brother’s. Darn, Grégory, do you rub your feet with Maroilles?”

The mention of the smelliest cheese the boys knew didn’t please Grégory, but his reply couldn’t be understood. He had actually worn the socks for three days, even sleeping with them and his shoes on so they would be ripe for Nicolas’ torment. Had he known how things would turn out…

“And two pairs of cotton briefs I don’t think are Phil’s. Let me check… No, not Phil’s, but well worn nonetheless. It seems that Greg had some nasty fun in them,” he said, waving the briefs around. Steph could not see the stains, but he understood this was what Hervé was referring to. Steph didn’t know if the youngest of the three brothers was fully functional on that end. He suspected he wasn’t yet, but the boy liked talking about wanking, cum and sex quite passionately.

“He’s wanked in them, Steph!” Hervé grinned. He pulled a final piece out; it was all soggy with saliva. Nicolas’ Speedos they’d wanked him in, and that they had used as gag wadding.

“Yuck! This is fresh. I’d guess they were in Nicolas’ mouth not too long ago.” Looking a bit more closely, he discerned the remnants of boy cream that the sucking had not totally removed. “And someone came in them too. Am I right, Nicky?”

Nicolas couldn’t nod, let alone speak; but it was commonly understood among the little troop that a grunt meant yes, and two would mean no.


“Call me Hervé the brilliant detective. There are only ropes left in the bag. I’ll check the other one.”

He dove behind the piece of furniture, where the other piece of luggage the wannabe kidnappers had brought along lay. He rummaged through, but didn’t come with anything to help for the gagging they were to undertake.

“Just ropes and some tape; scarves also. A couple judo belts. They’ll come in handy later on.”

Cédric had observed his younger brother interacting with the other boys saying nothing. He was focused on controlling any move by Philippe. His liking for knots and restraints caused him to speak up:

“I hope it’s soon. Let’s get them gagged good and proper, and then we can work on a very serious tie-up. I have ideas for a good revenge, Steph!”

Steph didn’t lack imagination for solutions at the moment; nevertheless, letting his assistants make proposals was a good way to build some team spirit.

“I’ll sure be glad to hear them. What do you want to stuff Phil’s mouth with?”

“Not sure, yet. Some jockstrap would be nice, but I’m not sure their teammates are as dirty as our traitors. You said Grégory’s briefs had cum stains, Herv?”

“Yup. They’re a bit crusty, so he must have creamed in them several times.”

“Should we stuff Greg’s or Nicolas’ soggy ones?” Cédric wondered aloud. His little brother had a practical mind.

“Why not both?”

Philippe went for some serious bucking and squirming; alas, Cédric had foreseen such a move, and by exerting pressure with his thighs and knees, he brought his older brother back to immobility.

“Why not indeed? Two pairs of briefs it is then. Bring them over.”

Hervé rushed to his brothers. Steph admired the coordination. He knew of the many times the three siblings had played tie-up games, and of Philippe’s uncanny willingness to be the captive. His reluctance to do his brothers bidding now could be feigned; Steph wondered whether he had to act tough because of Grégory’s presence. There was some weird connection between the two friends. Not disappointing his blond mate could be a solid motivation.

The two pairs of skilled hands left no chance that he could refuse the soiled underwear, though. Cédric stuck his thumbs inside Philippe’s mouth, at the corners of his lips. It was just like one does to put the bridle on a horse; once they’d managed to part his lips only a little, they had won. The two bundled garments were slid inside his mouth little by little, until his mouth was crammed with dirty undies, his jaws open wide. Cédric applied the handgag anew, requesting some tape to trap the ball of fabric slathered with various boy juices.

“The thin one, you know; the white cloth one.”

Hervé fetched the required roll. Steph had moved around a bit, letting Grégory witness the interesting scene. The blond cutie had stopped squirming; seeing Philippe bound and gagged was a show he didn’t get tired of. Hervé kneeled down in front of his brothers. The hand over Philippe’s mouth was removed, the end of the roll of tape slapped against his cheek, and three turns around his head and between his lips were unrolled. This made for a decent cleave; Grégory knew that it wouldn’t be enough to ensure that it would remain inside for a very long time. Hence, he wasn’t surprised when Cédric made the next request.

“Lower face plastering, please.”

Hervé had already brought the roll of wider white surgical tape. He tore off strips that he handed to his brother. Standard procedure, Grégory noticed. The X, the two strips going from ear to ear under the chin, and the three turns around the head. The blond boy wasn’t the only one to assess the situation; Nicolas knew from experience that this was inescapable. He had been kept bound and gagged by Cédric and Hervé a few times, and he knew how thorough they were when it came to restraining and silencing.

They had more layers they could add on, but they could wait a bit. It was Grégory’s turn to taste Philippe’s briefs. He was mildly comforted by the musky, familiar aroma. The boys didn’t restrain themselves when it came to using tape. He was only lightly tied by then, but this skilful plastering of his lower face with the mass of gliding underwear in his mouth reduced highly his ability to resist.

“What did you have in mind to tie them up, Cédric?”

“I think we may start with something simple: Philippe standing behind Grégory, the outside of his legs touching the inside of his legs. Philippe’s hands tied in front, across Greg’s waist. Greg’s arms pulled well behind between Philippe’s. And then we can have them walk around. Once we’ve given them something to do, we can spend a little time taking care of Nicolas.”

What could have passed for neglect of a guest, this absence of even acknowledging he was there, tightly trussed to the chair, the fiendish straps pinning him immobile. He could only watch Cédric kneeling and showing with his finger where the ropes would go; Nicolas still could feel how much Steph enjoyed it.

He was less and less shy, and Grégory had been at his hands before. It hadn’t been as bad as he’d have thought the first time, and Grégory trusted somehow Steph to give him some naughty fun. It didn’t seem it was going to be the easiest ride, but he thought he could handle it. This was the price to pay to be worthy of a payback mission in the weeks or months that would follow.

Next the three captors stood Grégory and Philippe up from the floor. It was time to enact Cédric’s simple but devilish plan. Soon Philippe held Grégory tightly, hugging him from behind. Philippe soon realized that even though his elbows were restrained, stretching his fingers allowed him access to the front of Grégory’s shorts.

Grégory’s wrists were pulled behind and tied to a rope around Philippe’s waist. A rope was used to pass between their legs and do turns to keep the top of their thighs together, Grégory’s shorted bottom captive of the shorted crotch behind him. It also pulled the front of his shorts, turning into a V as the two ends of the threaded rope emerged from between the thighs. The way his dick was kept trapped under the layer of silky material, pulled by this triangle of rope and shorts’ waistband, the way he felt Philippe breathing down his neck, the way he felt his fingertips brush by at every move; Grégory wasn’t sure if he would not burst out at some point.

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Age: 44

STU At the Football Club - Chapters 6 & 7 - March 13th

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Mar 12, 2016 11:19 pm

Chapter 6 – Retaliation
Their legs were kept together at the knees, above the knee actually, and the two left feet tied together at the ankles. Grégory seemed aware that twisting around a bit got some reaction from the satiny bulge sliding over his buttocks.

Hervé loved the sight. He actually initiated the following activity.

“Tied like that against each other, if we have them walk, they’re going to leak in their shorts.”

Cédric pretended to get angry at the idea.

“They’d better not!”

“You know Philippe, Cédric. We’ve found him enough times when we had him hogtied in his shorts, he had gotten very wet, if he had not gone full blast and creamed in them so it would get out through the material. It’s kind of gross. I like it a bit. It means Philippe is happy. But if these move,” he said pointing to the bound pair, “They’re going to come in their shorts!”

“They’d better not. But rather than punishing a fault,” Cédric said with a deviously mischievous smile, “I’d rather reward effort. So, he who gets his friend to wet his shorts, he earns 50 Reward Points, to be redeemed at a later moment!”

Concerned grunts came from behind the gags. Betrayal wasn’t in their nature. At the same time getting a free pass in the punishment time they were intent on inflicting on them… Two minds were reeling.

“Walk around the room,” Hervé ordered. To the back, around the concrete post and back! Ten times!”

The little kid was ecstatic now; bossing his older brother around while he was well bound and gagged had been something that he considered very satisfying. The boys, usually developing ideas first heard of from Philippe’s mouth, made some wild tie-up and kidnapping role-play come to life. This time, with him punished along with his handsome friend, it became much more explicit.

Cédric and Hervé had never so far had much intimate contact with their older brother. The same wasn’t true of Nicolas, whom they had showered a few times, usually with Cédric ending up lengthily cleaning his sex; he usually pretended that nothing had happened.

“You’re impatient, Hervé,” Steph said. “We still could add a couple layers over their gags. It will make them more colourful, and it will get them to think about. A rank and musky smell. I guarantee they won’t hold for more than thirty seconds once we get them to sniff some sweaty boy’s dirty underwear or socks. We might think of providing them with a Symphony of Odours, as they say in fancy restaurants. They use a wide variety of specific ingredients. I tell you, boys, they are equipped and trained to appreciate such delicacies.

Grégory didn’t hit the great prize, or maybe he did, as he had to breathe with the distinct filter of the Swine’s orange nylon undies pulled over his head. Then a pair of socks tied at the toes was wrapped over the plastering of tape. Steph pulled the ends tight, working it over his prisoner’s face so no move would allow it to slide down.

He topped it with a soft cotton, scarf; Steph was very efficient now when it came to pulling a scarf so it would compress the jaws together; his major expertise at feeling the threads and the folds, and tightening them made the scarf stick to his skin, trapping the offensive garments just under his nostrils. A little air was mixed in as he breathed through his nose, but he could not escape the pungent odours of crotch and feet.

Cédric was rewarding Philippe with the other of Grégory’s pair of briefs, and of a pair of socks. It was actually Grégory’s, but the captive had the feeling Cédric had been fishing for the meanest piece of underwear; it was no surprise it had been Grégory’s socks.

Still not having been allowed to move in the least, Nicolas admired the ballet Steph and Cédric danced not to be in each other way as they simultaneously knotted these strong-smelling top layers on the top of the gags.

“You’re all set, lads, now you can do as Hervé instructed you. It’s time we go and learn from the mouth of the babe himself what the scoundrels did to Nicolas. Come with to give a hand, Cédric.”

Three pairs of eyes pointing towards him at once made Nicolas blush lightly. No one noticed.

Hervé spoke shyly.

“Uh… Do you need to remove his gag to know what they’ve done to him? I must play the detective again? We’ve got all the evidence on what these acolytes have been doing: they kidnapped Nicolas, they wanked him and tied up him up in at least three different ways including his being trussed to the chair now. They’ve used him as bait to lure you here. There’s not much he can tell us.”

Steph pondered about the younger lad’s words. Yes, there were many signs and information on what the boys had been up to. Nicolas could provide some interesting ‘intel’ about Philippe and Grégory’s intent.

“Why shouldn’t we free Nicolas, Hervé? It’s been really long for him. It must start getting unpleasant.”

“I would prefer that we keep him bound. We may loosen the straps a bit and maybe the ropes too. But I don’t see why we should rescue him.” He cut the devastating smile that had gotten him from many troubles, and had gotten so many people to ‘give him a second chance’. “I think we should keep all three of them prisoners.”

Hervé had become infatuated with Nicolas. Grégory wasn’t surprised, and neither was Philippe. Nicolas was the epitome of plump cuteness. He was a delight to restrain.

Steph was thinking of a reason to object to Hervé’s point of view. He had acted to thwart the plot that had been hatched against him. It was not like he never had trussed up Nicolas like a turkey. He looked really good on the chair too.

“Are you willing to pick up the extra work of taking care of him as he is now?”

“This would be just… fabulous!” Hervé said, thinking of the highest praise he could give to a show or a game.

“Mmmpph! MmmmBBlMMmm!!” Nicolas was now pleading, most concerned at the turn of events. To be honest, the pressure and the immobility were starting to take their toll on the boy.

“Handle him, Hervé, I have a feeling our little walking duo needs some serious supervision; I’ll volunteer! Anybody for watching?”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Cédric replied.

Hervé smiled at Nicolas.

“There are a few things we did to Philippe I’m sure you will like.”

He walked slowly and daintily turned around, carefully sitting over Nicolas’ lap. Hervé was light; his soft track suit and the daintiness displayed when he’d lowered his buttocks over his captive’s bare thighs made the helpless boy all woozy.

While the younger boy whispered dirty words in Nicolas’ ear, Steph and Cédric had caught up with Philippe and Grégory at the back of the room. It was quickly decided that more fun could be had with the pair away from Hervé’s eyes. Steph suggested taking them to ‘the Attic’.

This was the name of the actual attic, which had been converted into a small dorm with a small bathroom. There were eight bunk beds, which could accommodate two guests each. Sometimes visiting teams stayed overnight if they came from too far away. Casting a glance at Hervé who was cuddling with Nicholas, Cédric thought that his brother could use some intimacy. Cédric had heard his little brother praise Nicolas enough times; he would love to weave further bonds with the lovely prisoner.

“Enough laps; you’re going to give us a little tour of the building, boys. Move on, prisoners, you need to show some quick response!”

Steph picked up quickly on Cédric’s order; his fellow captor had discreetly pointed to his hugging brother. Let the kid experiment; the two captives they had were enough to keep entertained.

Hervé noticed that the rest of the group was leaving. He looked deep into Nicolas’ eyes.

“I’m really glad we spend some time alone,” he whispered.

“We’re off,” Cédric announced. “We should be in the attic or close if you need us. We’ll be glad to help out if Nicky gives you a hard time.”

The stumbling duo had managed to get to the threshold, and soon the door was shut behind them; the scolding voices of Steph and Cédric and the indignant grunts in reply faded away down the hall.

“It’s great having you like this, Nico, delivered in a tight little bundle, obediently pinned to your chair. And you can’t protest at all. You won’t interrupt either. I have a little story to tell you. This will be our little secret. Do you promise not to pipe a word to anyone when you’re eventually free?”

Nicolas looked at him with wide eyes. He mumbled once.

“Good. I have to tell you of my brothers’ little secrets, too. So don’t go telling anything to anyone about Philippe either! Promise?”

A grunt confirmed the oath.

“Philippe really likes being kidnapped. He’s made up many situations on how to be tied up. He has lots of imagination, and we’ve helped him play his scenarios since I was nine or ten.”

Hervé was about to turn thirteen. Nicolas was aware of the games the three brothers had played, but he didn’t imagine it had been that long.

“He’s been a kidnapped football player, a meddling snoop who gets caught... We’ve kept him in a wardrobe, in a broom closet, bound to trees, you name it. For a little over a year now, like in the early spring of last year, he’s brought stories of being a little boy at Victorian times. From what he told us, some boys in the Victorian times were kept restrained in their daily lives as part of their education. He had spent his pocket money on flannel shorts in a thrift shop. He had also procured sandals and stockings. With a shirt, a jacket and a tie, he looked the elegant British boy. We had fun for a weekend in June, when we were on our own at the house. Cédric and I played the schoolteachers. You’ll have to have Philippe tell you about it.”

As Hervé delivered his tale, he kept wriggling and moving. He used his fingertips to brush against the offered skin or the shiny material; Nicolas paid attention to the speech while sustaining the gaze of his tormentor.

“Philippe managed to surprise us last fall when he wanted the Victorian boy game changed with some baby stuff. He wanted to be put in a diaper and handled as a baby. He had made a dummy too, with a big rubber bulb we had to wash our ears. He’d filled his with plaster so it couldn’t deflate. The end was cut a bit, and it was fixed to the middle of a bike tube split in two to make a rubber strap. It worked fine. He garbled like a baby; we couldn’t understand one word. Philippe likes gags.”

Nicolas was starting to feel uncomfortable. He whined a bit in the thick gag, and enjoying the fact Hervé had locked eyes with his for the revelations, he did his best cute puppy eyes. It worked on most people!

Chapter 7 – Race to the Bottom

“Hold on a bit, boy, I’m almost done. I still need to tell you about one of Philippe’s fancies that gave me an idea for a little experiment with you. This time, Philippe showed us a new thing he wanted to play with. He explained it was a dildo. A dildo is something you stick up someone’s bum, Nicolas.”

The trussed up boy knew what a dildo was. He would have loved being able to ask what Hervé had in mind, and that he got to the point, but the impish boy had decided to get the most out of Nicolas’ helplessness. “He showed us what it was. It was the wooden foot of a table he’d spotted in a pile of junk. He’d cut it and filed it down so it would be super smooth. Then he put a condom over the big wood piece. The thing was twelve centimetres long, and it was thick as three of my fingers,” Hervé said showing his hand with his thumb, index and thumb fingers pressed together.

“He removed his shorts, he bended his knees a bit and he stuck the thing up his butt. It went in smoothly. I suspect Philippe had practiced a bit before showing us. Then he told Cédric he could be put in a diaper and outfitted like a Victorian baby. We added the school uniform shirt, jacket and tie and put the ‘dummy’ tied to the rubber strap inside his mouth. For what happened next, once again you’ll have to ask Philippe. We came up with good ideas for a Victorian baby school boy. With his bum stuffed. That’s what I was actually aiming at, Nicolas. I think it would be nice getting your bum stuffed too. Not the baby thing. At least not for now; we didn’t bring any diapers. Would you like it too?”

Nicolas’ mind was reeling. He’d done some things to his bum with his finger, but he had always been slightly reluctant of going much further. He had confused ideas when it came to bums and buttocks. He loved watching other boys’, and even his own. It made him stiff. Yet any scatological activities were quite a turn-off.

“Have you ever had something stuffed up your bum?”

There were two grunts this time. Hervé beamed.

“So I’ll show you. If you’re anything like Philippe, you will love it! I’m even going to make you a bit more comfortable right now.”

Nicolas didn’t feel like he had given consent, but it was too late. Hervé had jumped from his lap and hopped behind the chair; he swiftly unbuckled the straps pinning Nicolas’ head to the chair. It brought relief.

Hervé pushed the wheeled chair towards a door at the back of the office. The bubbly twelve-year old captor turned the key and pushed down the latch. He pushed the door open over a dark hole, leaping back behind the chair and pushing Nicolas inside the room, switching the light on as they entered.

“We’ve played in here with Grégory a couple times. I’ll need to go get some stuff. Have a look, and don’t go anywhere.”

A failed remark of spite was soon followed by the sounds of a door slamming and being locked. Nicolas moved his head around, taking in the display of the room he’d never been in. He knew Grégory’s uncle had a room that could double as an infirmary in case of game injuries. The furniture was Spartan. A bed, or rather a cot, a chair, a coat rack, an antique wooden height gauge; Nicolas then adopted a different point of view.

If he had wanted to restrain another boy to play with his bum, how would he do it? That’s when his mind took in more details: the pipes of the heating system along the wall, at top and bottom. The three hooks bolted to the wall could have a boy standing against the wall. The bed’s headboard and footboard featured slats allowing ropes to be closely bound to the bed’s feet.

He heard steps behind the door, and the key rattling in the lock, and the barely pubertal hurricane rushed back inside the room; quiet time was over.

“I had left my bag in the locker room. It has your dildo, and I gathered a few things, like duct tape, Vaseline, a couple towels. First, getting you out of the chair.”

Hervé removed all straps and ropes pinning Nicolas’ torso to the chair. His legs remained well trussed. With much coaxing and threats, the prisoner’s forearms were released from the layers of coban wrap welding them to the armrests. Nicolas was made to bend over. Hervé folded his arms, tucking the forearms together behind his back. The shriek of the duct tape being unrolled informed Nicolas of what was coming. Eight turns were wrapped around his forearms, from wrist to elbow. Hervé took the extra step of taping his hands to his arms just above the elbow.

“Now I can free your legs so I install you just as I want to use my dildo on you.”

Four minutes later, the ropes had been untied and rolled into neat coils Hervé had laid on the spare chair’s seat. He helped his guest to stand up. He was cautious; Philippe had almost fainted when released from a strenuous position. Nicolas did fine, however. Once he was well on his feet, Hervé stepped in front to do something the ropes had prevented so far. He kneeled and pulled the shiny blue swimwear’s waistband down to Nicolas’ ankles, freeing a sturdily erect teenage penis.

Hervé’s eyes were right in front of the proudly stretching cock. “We’ll have fun with your dick later. Now…”

Hervé stood back, and put his hand over Nicolas’ shoulder to guide him towards the bed. He had him stand at the footboard. He picked two pillows from the bed’s head, and threw them between Nicolas and the foot board.

“Kneel,” he ordered, grabbing Nicolas’ arm to help him obeying without crashing nose first into the footboard. Hervé kneeled next; he tied his prisoner’s crossed ankles.

What had to be the dildo entered Nicolas’ sight, waved by Hervé. Nicolas noticed that the boy was now wearing rubber surgical gloves.

“It’s a cigar tube with a few hankies wrapped around and a little duct tape to hold it together. Let me put the condom on it, so it’s like a real dick.

The nimble rubber-gloved fingers handled the object in front of Nicolas’ face; he looked at the thing. It was meant to come up his bum indeed. Nicolas was terribly hard. The tip of his prick brushed the footboard; he was afraid he’d cum any time now. Hervé moved back behind. Something was spread over his butt crack by a finger. The Vaseline! The rubber digit insisted on his anal ring, massaging it more thoroughly. It left.

“Mmmmph!” Nicolas reacted, frustrated of the sudden absence. It didn’t last.

“The real thing, now!”

The homemade dildo was pressing at his back door. A hand was pushing it gently but relentlessly. The pressure grew; Nicolas relaxed his sphincters rather than tightening them, in a surprisingly counter-reactive move. The thing slid inside him smoothly. It didn’t hurt, actually. Of course, it wasn’t this thick. Nevertheless, Nicolas was surprised of how easy it had gone.

“Very good. I’ll add a little crotch rope now, so you keep it in more easily, and then we can play a couple more games,” Hervé explained enthusiastically.

Nicolas heard the swishing sound of rope taken from the bag. Hervé was closer behind him, and wrapped the rope around his waist. It was thin nylon rope, as those used as sheets for sailing. Four turns made for a wide belt. Hervé adjusted the tension carefully so it would be tight and couldn’t go down his hips. He knotted the two ends at the small of his captor’s back.

He kept an eye on the protruding end of the butt-plug he’d designed. A ring made out of wire ended it. Both ends of the coated copper wire were threaded through two holes he’d drilled a couple of centimetres away from the end. He’d made a few turns with the wire around the tube. This ring was meant to make the device stay in. Now, his crotch rope was meant to keep it from being swallowed by the wearer’s innards.

After making sure the initial belt was secure, the square knot keeping the taut turns firmly together, Hervé threaded both ends in the wire ring coming from the dildo. Gathering both ends with one hand, he shifted to Nicolas’ side; he grabbed the two threads, pulling them back up on both sides of the captive’s groin.

The V it formed went underneath the rope belt, and the two ends were pulled back where they came from, to the knot. Hervé tweaked the thin rope a bit. He tied the ends to the knot at the back and brought them down again along the butt crack, through the wire ring, between his legs and up his groin.

“Thanks for keeping your dick out of the way, Nico!”

Nicolas was pleasantly surprised by having his butt plugged. His fourteen-centimetre raging hard-on felt like it had grown further. It lifted his genitals conveniently so Hervé didn’t have to touch them to work his way around.

The younger boy ended with additional turns and twists along the initial rope belt. Nicolas lowered his head to watch; the boy cleverly added knots so the V coming from his groin wouldn’t slide along the belt. Eventually, the very ends were knotted to the belt, in front this time.

“It should hold. There’s a bit of length left. Let’s make you elegant.”

Hervé added a little bow. Nicolas had feared that the boy would use the rope to tie his cock or his ball sack; he was relieved.

“Now time to dress you up a bit. Nice boys don’t walk around naked.”

Hervé crouched to untie Nicolas’ ankles. He got into position to lift him up from the floor, grabbing his torso with his gloved hands.

“Up we go!”

As he stood up, having to move his legs, Nicolas felt the dildo twitch inside. He grunted some desperate plea for relief; he longed for his dick being rubbed and getting an orgasm. Those Grégory and Philippe had provided seemed very far away now.

This wasn’t in Hervé’s plans, who didn’t acknowledge the feral grunt of despair.

“I found a pair of Speedos that must be yours. They’re clean, and I expect you to keep them this way.”

The swimwear was pulled up his legs. Hervé had to pull the front so they would cover the thick hard on. This hurt, actually. Nicolas tried to think of something else so his prick would deflate, but to no avail.

“Philippe says having something up his bum gives him a stiffy. He’s not the only one, apparently.”

He eventually managed trapping the erect cock underneath the gleaming stretchy material, which meant giving Nicolas a wedgie. At the very end, he put his hand inside the swimwear and pushed the dick downwards so it wouldn’t peek above the waistband. He then tightly knotted the swimwear’s lace, so it would imprison the hard member.

“You look decent now, Nico. And you could walk around without anyone seeing you’re getting bum fucked!”

Nicolas thought the duct taped arms, the heavy gag and the huge bulge would be deemed weird by anyone, regardless of his knowledge of the anal probe.

“Now we can play Victorian boy with you, then. I’m going to dress you up. If you behave, I’ll remove your gag and give you a drink. Maybe we can talk; I have a few questions for you.”

Nicolas nodded. He was moved by the attention the younger boy paid to his restraining. He felt the same feelings of content as Hervé busied himself with putting clothes on him. He was very pliant; he could have struggled when his arms were temporarily freed.

At that point, his legs had been taken care of; shorts, socks and shoes had been put on, and his legs had been trussed up again. It made an attempt at resisting less likely to have any positive outcome; he let his caregiver handle him throughout the procedure, secretly relishing the touch of the boy’s hands, the tube lodged in his rectum and the gag and bonds that made him a prisoner.

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Age: 44

STU At the Football Club ch. 8-10 - Updated March 15th

Postby Bondwriter » Mon Mar 14, 2016 11:55 pm

Chapter 8 – Fun in the Dorm

While Nicolas wondered what ‘playing Victorian boy’ entailed to the imaginative 12-year old boy, two boys who had been captors for a few hours were experiencing Cédric and Steph’s ideas of fun. Coaxing them with threats and smacks upon Philippe’s buttocks had been the first step. Philippe shielded Grégory from being spanked, so any misstep or dawdling was acted on the black-haired boy’s bottom. The pair coordinated well, so the shorted bum didn’t endure too much retaliation.

Philippe was concerned of wetting his shorts, though. Of having wet them, actually. As they had climbed the stairs leading to the Attic, the squishing underneath the nylon made clear he had leaked massive amounts of precum. This was something Cédric loved to punish him for, these days.

What worried him was Grégory’s reaction to stories Cédric would tell about him. Philippe had used his brothers’ liking for tie-up and, as of late, naughty games to get some kicks; he’d have preferred this to take place with Grégory or Nicolas; they didn’t live under the same roof, so his brothers were a convenient resource to be bound, gagged and played with.

Philippe moved his hands a little, so he would fondle Grégory. If both of them lost, maybe… He realized he had no idea what sort of punishment they had in mind. Usually, Cédric tightened his bonds and added a few layers to his gag; he had to spend extra time in the nasty position.

The grunting and the quivering under the nylon layer meant he was about to succeed. He touched a little longer; yes, some liquid had spurt out. Good. Nobody won.

They stepped inside the Attic, still savouring the feeling of rubbing against each other. Steph and Cédric’s minds were both turning towards a similar possible outcome. Cédric would really love to have his ways with Grégory; he knew of his brother’s liking of Grégory, but snatching his beloved mate from his brother made him feel special.

Steph was ogling Philippe’s buttocks with envy. Tightly held within their lining of gleaming fabric, they were causing the most lustful ideas in Steph’s mind. They had to inspect the duo and see if there were winners or losers. Steph didn’t know how to ask Cédric, but he felt like fucking his older brother.

Cédric ordered the bound boys to stop in the middle of the dorm. There were two rows of bunk beds along each of the walls in front of them and behind. Steph got the ball rolling.

“It’s up to you what happens next, Cédric. You may have ideas for disciplining these two, or maybe you have something in mind.”

Steph’s keen eye had spotted how Cédric was engrossed in Grégory. He could count on the boy’s willingness to have a little private time with the blond cutie. Steph didn’t mind having a little time with Philippe. Cédric looked pensively for a fistful of seconds. His tone, then, was assertive.

“I think it’s high time I have some fun with Grégory. Bum-related. Would you care for Philippe by yourself for a while? Once we’ve had them, we can gather together and think of some punishment or of a game.”

“Well, indeed. Where should we do this?”

“There’s enough space in the Attic; we can take them at each end of the dorm; the beds can be useful to have them on display just as we want them.”

Nothing was said about fucking the captives; but Philippe and Grégory had an awareness of such things, and they knew it was coming. Philippe had made the subject of tie-ups explicit for the last few months, luring his brother into his kinky games. Cédric showed a natural ability to make up twisted situations for his older brother, who now realized he had showed his siblings a little too well.

Steph was getting back to the Siamese twins who had to be split for some more private fun. He kneeled and felt their crotches. His grin informed Cédric they both had lost, as they had both leaked liquid in their shorts in breach of the order.

“No self-control. What do you suggest for punishment, Cédric?” Steph asked, turning to his younger acolyte. There was more pondering, until the young teen offered a solution.

“They should be given remedial treatment to deter any further mistake. Having them copy lines, or the set of rules I have in mind for these two from now on… This could do the trick for them. If we can spank Philippe a little in the while, it will be the proper punishment.”

Steph agreed with the general layout. He was eager to experiment with Philippe as soon as possible, so he was untying the ropes keeping his friends tied together. He coupled his gestures with tightening of their individual bondage. When they were released from each other, they had their arms solidly bound behind at wrists and elbows; their legs were hobbled.

More taunts were delivered about the wetness in the shorts. Cédric eventually grabbed Grégory with one hand, three coils of rope in the other, and dragged him towards the entrance door. Steph picked up the chance to take Philippe to the other side. He would remove his shorts, bind him so his arse would be accessible to his dick, and he would make some hot, sweet love to Philippe.

The two couples went their ways. Steph stopped his captive along the bunk bed that was the furthest behind, on the right. Philippe ended bound face down on the side of the lower bed, kneeling with a rope tied around each of his knees, pulling his legs open while his crossed ankles were wrapped in rope. His chest held his weight over the bed; his balance was good, he couldn’t fall down.

Cédric had spread-eagled Grégory in the top bunk bed that was just right of the entrance door. His shorts had been left on. Cédric wanted to start lying over the blond boy and rub his crotch against the shorted bottom.

Steph was a cautious lad; he knew of STDs and stuff so he had condoms with him. He had tried a few to wank with, and he liked the feel of the latex over his dick; he imagined diving into another boy’s bottom with the protection of rubber most exciting. The said dick didn’t have any enthusiasm issue.

Steph didn’t take long to kneel behind Philippe, to slide between his legs and to get comfortable, then to set the condom over his dick while lubricating Philippe’s rosebud with a finger dipped in grease.

Philippe didn’t prevent Steph from entering him. His captor’s slick hand closed around Philippe’s shaft; some grinding started, with the black-haired muscular boy grunting more and more loudly into his gag.

Cédric was enjoying himself a lot. He was whispering nasty things to Grégory’s ear, while enjoying the softness and the warmth of the body beneath his. Grégory cooed. He had never wanted to admit Cédric was at least as desirable as his older brother was. Experiencing him first hand, his strong hold and his devious ideas got Grégory to long for some much more intimate treatment.

He had to endure the detailed tale of his being sold to a Middle Eastern sheik. Yes, Cédric had discussed kidnapping with Philippe, this was obvious. Grégory couldn’t believe how big Cédric’s cock was. It was covered by a layer of nylon, but he could really feel it poking along his butt crack as the boy was grinding his hips slowly.

When the pace of the grinding increased and the voice stopped, Grégory knew he wouldn’t have to wait long for the final explosion, which came with lots of cute little animal grunts and strange curses.

This outburst was soon followed by Steph’s wailing, coinciding with a fainter muffled shout from Philippe.

The fucking had gone its course; both Steph and Philippe were horny enough for the experience to be satisfying. They calmed down, Steph now hugging Philippe from behind, clutching to him as he was going down after the intense orgasm they had just experienced.

Cédric was also dozing off, and getting talkative again, wondering what would be the best way to restrain Grégory for a week of packaged transportation. He thought of a custom crate for just that purpose, and just describing this would keep him busy for a long time.

The panting eventually subsided. Only Cédric’s whisper could be hear throughout the Atiic. After at least ten minutes, Steph broke the silence.

“Isn’t it time for punishment, Ced?” he bellowed.

This got Cédric’s mischievous streak going again. Unseen from Grégory, he grinned. The blond heartthrob heard peace was over.

“You bet, Steph! Let’s get these hoodlums to pay for their misdeeds!”

There was another bout of rope activity, to bring the boys back to the centre of the dorm. Steph actually disappeared briefly in the bathroom beyond the dorm to have a little clean up time. He removed his condom cautiously and cleaned his dick. He then wiped Philippe’s middle, with warm water, then with some soap twice, and he carefully rinsed it. Philippe’s shorts and hobbles were restored to their normal state. The boy could be brought back with his friends.

Steph noticed the other couple hadn’t cleaned up much. Their shorts told of how much fun their dicks had known in a very near past. This was great! He didn’t have time for a suggestion, Cédric had something in mind.

“It’s time for a spanking, as they can’t control themselves.”

He leaned forward, so he could see Grégory’s shorts front.

“He’s wetter than before! This calls for ten extra spanks.”

“How much did he have before? What’s Philippe’s score?”

“The penalty for Philippe when I catch him with wet shorts is twenty-five spanks. I don’t know if we should go as hard on Grégory, though.”

Steph waited for a rationale, opening his eyes as he looked at Cédric.

“Yeah, Philippe does like it. I mean, he’s the one who asked for a spanking. I don’t know if Grégory likes it.”

“We’re supposed to punish them. It’s not really a punishment if they like it. So don’t worry about Grégory’s feelings. What’s the count for him and Phil?”

Cédric smiled.

“Twenty-five spanks each! Let’s get them ready.”

Chapter 9 – Motivated Captors

The prisoners were bound to the feet of the same bunk bed, standing three feet apart. Grégory was trussed up against the frame first; he didn’t like much having his crotch pulled tight to the wood if his arse was to receive blows later on. He feared having his balls crushed.

Philippe was installed in position; both young martyrs locked eyes; the moan that arose was full of empathy and lust.

Steph gave his share of the spanks as they executed the sentence. They took turns spanking Grégory, then Philippe, their right hands smacking the pert buttocks alternatively. The older of the torturers was fascinated by his younger counterpart’s willingness to aim as accurately as possible to get the loudest smack from the contact with the behinds, and from the mouths muted with the thick gags.

When the fifty smacks were given, the boys rested.

“It almost hurts, Steph. What about you, prisoners?”

He reached for Grégory’s butt cheeks. He could feel the heat through the shorts covering them.

“Next time we’ll have to try with a bare bottom, Greg, don’t you think?”

Grégory felt the sting, but it was bare hands. It was bearable.

“A bare bottom, and something, like a whip or a slipper or a paddle. Then you don’t need to hold on to protect your bare hand.”

The boy was a real sadist. He didn’t look like Philippe, but the little smile he had when he imagined his horror stories was very similar. It was feral and dangerous. Grégory loved it.

“We should leave them here for a while. I’d like to see what my little brother is doing to Nicolas. Do you want to come with?”

Steph still had ideas and a taste for watching the show the bound boys offered.

“I’ll let you go and check on Hervé, Ced. I think someone should keep an eye on those two. We don’t want them to free themselves. What do you think would happen next?”

“You’re right. They might have payback in mind. Won’t do. I’ll let you know what’s up, then. Don’t let them fool around,” he grinned as he turned to walk out the dorm.

Once the door was closed, Steph turned towards the two boys; both were bound facing a post at the foot of the bunk bed, still as rigidly gagged, and trussed up so no hope had existed of escaping the spanking punishment. He could tell them anything he wanted, they couldn’t stop him.

“No sensitive young ears to be hurt, my friends, so the big boys can chat.”

Philippe mumbled a derogatory remark.

“Indeed, Phil, you cannot really make sentences. But for the information I have to get from you, yes and no will do.”

Grégory and Philippe nodded, looking at each other, resigned at being under Steph’s control.

“So, lads, a first and straight first question: have you fucked each other yet?”

They both nodded.

“I’m not surprised; I needed to make sure. Now, let me make it clear; did you both fuck the other up the arse?”

There was another nod. It would be difficult to get details on his friends’ sex life, but talking dirty to two hanging pieces of meat was an OK way to have fun for Steph, even if it required efforts.

As he was inquiring about the who, where, when and how in his laborious way, Steph moved closer to Grégory. He felt him with his fingertips, lightly brushing his shoulders, then rubbing his back. He then moved to the nipples, which he twisted after demanding a display of courage. Grégory barely made noise in his gag, as the blue-eyed boy whispered his questions in his ear.

“You do have something special with your friend Philippe, don’t you, Greg? This is fine with me. Having two little lovers under my thumb like this is just hot.”

This assault and the abuse that came along got Philippe to warn Steph he wasn’t happy at all. Through his gag, it didn’t amount to much.


“If you say so; I’ll take good care of your friend,” Steph said as he fondled Grégory, “I won’t make you jealous, I’ll take care of you next, my black-haired beauty.”

Both of them were furious; their twitching in their tight clothing and their strict bonds, and the atmosphere, the smell not being the least contributor to it, had Steph play his villain role with even more delight.

Cédric hadn’t met his brother yet. He was mildly curious as to what Hervé could be doing. He liked his little brother. He wondered if such an evening was as much fun for Hervé it was for him and Philippe.

Cédric made a stop in the bathroom; he felt like cleaning up a bit, being a bit sticky in the crotch area. In the huge bathroom, with the row of six sinks, it was eerily silent. A few plumbing noises could be perceived. He felt a slight tingle knowing that there were three prisoners somewhere in the big building. After he'd peed and cleaned up before wiping himself vigorously with a towel. Adjusting his shorts back on, admiring how fine he looked in the mirror, he set finding Nicolas, who was certainly less mobile than his younger brother.

He went back to the office. There was no one. He spotted the missing chair. From behind a door at the back of the room, he heard the unmistakable voice of Hervé.

"Wrong again! It is bigger than one thousand eight hundred and twenty-six. Let's try another one. Is twenty-eight times one hundred and twenty-two plus ninety-five times eight bigger or smaller than ninety-six thousand eight hundred and fifty? Five seconds, lad! You nod your head, so you mean smaller? Wrong again!"

The faint grumble from a disgruntled teenager was audible to he who knew what was happening inside. With a smile, Cédric went for the door. It was locked. He knocked.

"Hey, Hervé, what's up? Can you let him in?"

There was some shuffling behind the door.


The door opened on a beaming Hervé.

"We're doing fine, aren't we, Nicky? If we don't count your poor results when I quiz you."

The look in Nicolas' eyes told Cédric he wasn't happy.

"Why does he look upset? Did you beat him?"

"No, not yet. But if he goes on like this answering my questions, he will get quite a spanking."

Cédric was looking Nicolas up and down. He'd left him wearing his swimsuit, trussed up to the chair. Now he was standingin his swimsuit, looking super dorky with the shirt and jacket Hervé had put on him. And he couldn't believe how much mastery of rope knotting Hervé had gotten. He looked what was being done to Philippe most of the time, but the little experience he'd gotten was sufficient to know how to tightly tie his arms and overall make a most perfect bundle of the captive standing in the middle of the room.

The boy's lower face was swathed in white tape, his cheeks bulging heavily.

"You managed to get him from his chair to where he is now? This is something!"

The twelve-year-old boy smiled, ecstatic.

"What is he gagged with?"

"His dirty undies! I thought they would never get in. The strapping tape works really well. I'm sure they won't get out too easily."

Cédric didn't want to scare the prisoner, but strapping tape was vicious, and the removal of the gag wouldn't be painless.

"And what are you teaching him?"

Hervé took an important look.

"Many things. First is that he is one of the boys who like to have things filling their bum."

"You've asked him about sex stuff?"

"No. Well, I did, but as he said he hadn't done it before, I had him try. He likes it."

Nicolas looked at the two boys talking; he wondered where this was going. There had been weird things happening over at Philippe's but having gone from horny captors who wanted to milk him to discovering the disciplinarian, unembarrassed ways Hervé seemed made for, this was a lot to take in one evening. Cédric's coming didn't sound like it would save him much.

He had to endure the telling by Hervé of the little dildo episode. When Cédric realized he was still having it indie, he laughed hard.

"He's got it up the arse right now?"

There was of course an inspection, with briefs lowered. The erection was noticed and commented; Cédric looked from the back too, praising his brother for the great job with the crotch harness.

"What were you quizzing him on?" Cedric asked, still examining how the whole setup worked, with the rope going through the wire ring coming out from the tube.

"Arithmetic. I do an operation, and then I give him a number, and he has to guess if my number is bigger or smaller than the result."

This sounded like one of the 'math games' their teachers at school considered the apex of fun. Hervé did remember such things. Nicolas didn't find it fun at all. He grunted, commenting on how inane an exercise it was.

"Our young lad here tries to explain that he would like to try further. He's three right and fourteen wrong. Neither clever nor lucky."

The brothers laughed.

"Is there a reward for having more rights than wrongs?"

"I've promised him I would caress his willy if he got more rights than wrongs. And I would spank his bum if he had more wrongs."

Chapter 10 – All’s Well that Ends Well

Cédric didn't mind annoying the helpless prisoner further; he was wondering about the spanking. Nicolas' face didn't have the fake distressed look captives had when there were threats in jest during the games with Philippe. Rather than antagonizing his brother, he had to divert his attention, and try to steer towards another treatment for Nicolas, who might not be as happy as their older brother of such handling.

"We could give him a chance and have another test for him…"

Knowing that the nice toy he'd been playing with for a couple of hours didn't seem to bother Hervé that much, as long as something equally mysterious and entertaining was proposed by his brother.

The Victorian Boy to Cédric was a lot of spanking and harsh boarding school treatments. The second best possibility was a game Cédric had developed under the tutelage of Philippe. One of Philippe's stories about the Victorian era was this of a young boy kidnapped by his stepfather and taken from place to place to allow some goons to deprive him of his inheritance.

This scenario had given almost a week worth of evenings in which they tied up Philippe as if to transport him. They had even managed to grab a few pieces of clothing, like thick wool scarves and long cloaks and wondered if all the ropes and the gag underneath could be seen.

Sometimes they would tie him into a ball. They had once bound him and gagged him, and put him inside a trunk in the living room. Philippe had spent the evening listening to his family watching TV, his parents being none the wiser as to the elaborate enterprise that had ended fifteen minutes before they were home.

Cédric knew Hervé had an interest in totally immobilizing someone, and this would be a good moment to make sure Hervé picked up on what was important when he tied someone up. Cédric was afraid that his little brother left to his own would be reckless.

"We tie him like this poor Victorian Boy who's kidnapped to have his inheritance stolen from him."

"Like we did with Philippe when we put him in the truck?"

Cédric raised an eyebrow.

"Like… Sure, go get the ropes in the other room."

He had a smile that showed his canine teeth as he looked at Nicolas.

"With what Hervé has stuffed up your butt, this ball-tie should be most entertaining."

Cédric approached the bound boy; he crouched to loosen the leg ropes. He unknotted and removed the clever criss-cross his little brother had woven around Nicolas' legs. He rearranged the remaining rings of rope at the top of the thighs, above and below the knees all of them to make sure there were two fingers of slack.

Hervé was back with more rope. They decided to work over the little table. They dragged Nicolas by his arms, and had him lie on his back on the sturdy piece of furniture. Hervé was piping another story to Nicholas, about how the villainy stepfather had paid henchmen to kidnap the lad so he couldn't sign papers and then he would lose part of the inheritance.

This was little comfort to Nicolas. For thirty-five minutes, his attention was drawn to the increasing severity of the ropes added to produce the tightest ball tie possible.

A harness was drawn over his shoulders. The two long pieces of ropes were snugly pulled around him, as his arms had been freed; they ran below his armpits, across his back and back up front before they headed to the nether regions. That's what Cédric had in mind. Philippe had told them rather enthusiastically about how the ropes had pulled his shorts inside his butt crack. This rope, and the tightening of others would make sure Nicolas would benefit from Hervé's present.

His knees were brought to his chest, his ankles tied close to his stuffed bum. His hands were tied in front, his wrists bound to his ankles. Being on his back, his nylon-covered bottom offered a superb view.

His arms were linked to his body by links to existing rope work at the knees for each of his elbow. Philippe had had his brothers bind him this way five times, so they had control over how to do it.

Nicolas had to endure Hervé's chatter; this wouldn't make his bare bum bright red, at least.

Then as it was getting late, Cédric suggested enacting the transportation part of the scenario. He w fetched the trolley his brother had used; they transferred Nicolas onto it and of they were.

They pushed it through the halls until they reached the stairs. Cédric held on to the prisoner 'so he wouldn't fall'. It was a perfect opportunity for experiencing the soft touch of the bottom wrapped in Lycra.

He stayed at his sides for the climbing. Being trussed up in ropes from shoulders to ankles didn't make it this easy, but Hervé's coaxing along the lines of "Hop, bunny, hop," stimulated the teenager. The devilish plug rubbed him inside in a weird and very exciting way. He reached the landing having developed yet a new boner.

Both brothers helped him to cross the hall to the door to the dorm.

"I'm back with Nicolas!" Cédric said opening the door.

"And Hervé, thank you," his brother added.

"Yes, with Hervé. Look Steph, didn't Hervé do a nice work tying up Nic?"

Steph lifted his head; he was almost done binding the two charges he'd had brief fun with in a sixty-nine. His task was advanced enough; Grégory was firmly bound to Philippe who'd been spread-eagled over his bed first.

Nicolas wailed, in the hope Steph would now come and rescue him. His friend joined the trio.

"You did a good job, Hervé," Steph said as he inspected the job, much as Cédric had done.

"And Hervé's stuck a dildo up his arse!" Cédric exclaimed.

Steph had the same sceptical look Cédric had displayed when learning of the anal probe. More aware of such things, he kneaded the prisoner's backside; he felt the setup underneath the nylon.

"And with a crotch rope, to top it! Great!"

"So what's up with Greg and Phil, then?"

"I've put them to bed. We can all go and tuck them in before they sleep. I'm tired myself, actually."

Cédric was glad that no further tortures were on the agenda for the night. He pushed for Steph's plan.

"Should we put Nic in bed too?"

"Sure, not the same, though. The lovebirds take all the space anyway. Pick his bed!"

Hervé chose the one next to the sixty-nined pair, 'so they wouldn't feel lost'. Of course, this would make going from one bed to the next easier, if need be.

They untied Nicolas' hands, which they tied back in front. They bound the ropes imprisoning his wrists to his chest. There were three little maniacs mummifying him in rope, now. The wraps around his limbs or his body were also tied to the frame of the bed; soon he made one with the thin mattress. They checked the tension kept him rigidly in the middle of the bed.

It took a while before everybody gathered a blanket or a sleep sack and got to bed. Lots of talking occurred. The game was played over, snide comments were made, and indignant grunts were muffled. Eventually, with Steph and Cédric laying at Nicolas' sides, and Hervé pulling a blanket over the bound pair and snuggling against Grégory in the little space he had, they fell asleep. The trussed up ones didn't get the best sleep, but yet, for three or four hours, only soft breathing could be heard. Hervé was too tired to torment Grégory all night as planned; yet, being so close, his dreams featured the blond boy, along with Nicolas, his perfect smile and his appetizing butt.

No alarm clock was needed. Hervé stirred slowly, awaking fast when he realized he was next to a pair that was bound and gagged top-to-tail. He pulled the blanket, revealing Grégory's head.

"Wakey, wakey, lads, we have a few thing to discuss before we release you."

The commotion the younger boy caused got Steph and Cédric to wake up too, still cuddling the immobilized Nicolas, who had managed to sleep a bit, despite the heavy bondage and the plug that no one had thought of removing.

"Hey, Steph, one last game with our prisoners before we let them go?"

Steph checked his watch.

"Damn, it's seven thirty already! We've got to move!"

Hervé had to get his way before it'd be too late.

"We should let them go only if they promise to be our prisoners next time we play again!"

"If you want. What do you think, mates? Will you be our captives next time again?"

A concert of grunts was interpreted as an approval. The clear laughs that ensued were the start of a flurry of activities for a solid twenty minutes that saw all six boys cleaned and dressed at eight fifteen, with all of their equipment safely put away.

Grégory's uncle found they looked spiffy in their sportswear. He wondered how the older boys had gotten these pillow marks on their face; he didn't linger on this idea. This was another busy day to provide a good environment to young athletes.

End of this episode, but do not fear, the saga's not over. It will be continued in Sweaty Tie-Up: Discipline School, that will soon be posted in this thread.

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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 15th

Postby sarumansauron » Tue Mar 15, 2016 4:09 pm

Great continuations! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

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Age: 44

Sweaty Tie-Up Discipline School - Updated March 19th

Postby Bondwriter » Fri Mar 18, 2016 11:40 pm

Thanks to the readers and those who comment. So, here are the first two chapters of the sequel. There are ten chapters in this story.

Sweaty Tie-Up: Discipline School

Chapter 1

Hervé was standing, his hands firmly on his hips. His bare legs were slightly spread, to ensure stability and give him a conqueror’s posture. The twelve-year-old boy was facing his fifteen-year old brother Philippe, getting him acquainted with fragments of the plot he had hatched for the upcoming four-day weekend. Philippe was sitting and he listened intently, having no other choice in the matter, as he was trussed up to a chair and heftily gagged, as was customary when being lectured by Hervé.

It had happened many times over the last five weeks, since Nicolas’s abduction had turned into a mass kidnapping; Philippe had plotted with Grégory to kidnap Nicolas for a whole Friday evening; there were some tests they wanted to run on their friend and fellow tugs player.

Philippe’s brothers had joined Steph, a friend of Philippe’s and his brothers. Together they had thwarted Philippe and Grégory’s plan to lure Steph so he would share Nicolas’s fate, as a revenge for the time Steph had actually kept them prisoners, that first time they’d played tie-up.

The tables had been turned on the wannabe kidnappers, and they had ended being toys into their captors’ hands. Hervé had cast his attention towards Nicolas, whom he’d then shown the nastier discipline he liked to impose on Philippe, sticking things up his arse and having him play the role of a naughty little British schoolboy.

Getting Philippe to become his younger brother for the time of a role-play appealed much to Hervé. That’s why, lately, there had been more evenings when he would walk straight home. Hervé’s friends and teachers were impressed with his eagerness to do homework. His older sibling would be as eager to get back to his large bedroom and follow Hervé into whatever weird test or game he had designed on that day. The bedroom used to be Philippe’s domain, one where he first submitted to Grégory’s ministrations when he’d been left bound and gagged to the same chair he was sitting in a few months back.

Philippe had been made to share his territory by his siblings. It was now under Hervé’s whimsical control most of the time; his little brother grew better and better at playing the fierce authoritarian teacher. He made up elaborate scenarios and tests keeping the boys entertained for whole evenings. Their parents were glad their boys would be so keen on peacefully doing homework upstairs, totally unaware of their older son being kept in increasingly severe role-plays that would have him trussed up and ruthlessly silenced by complicated gags.

These were long evenings of bondage for Philippe. He loved it, yet there was something in his brothers’ demeanour that puzzled him. Even Cédric, who was most often present at least half the time Philippe spent bound and gagged, was getting more enthusiastic at making sure his older brother would be entertained while restrained and silenced.

And that’s how he was now. Philippe tested his bonds for the fifth or sixth time; the rope work binding him to the chair had been expertly performed. There were many ropes, but all the turns were thought out so the whole net thus woven made it impossible for the fifteen-years old to get loose. By himself, that is; they still intended to release him from the chair, as there were more places to visit and friends to meet.

Philippe wasn’t aware of the whole plan. He had gathered some intelligence throughout the week, from Hervé and Cédric’s mouths; they had hinted at some fun moment to get him somewhere else, and of possible encounters with some of their friends.

Philippe had made sure his friends, Grégory and Nicolas, would be around for the weekend. When he talked about it at school, Grégory and Nicolas confirmed quite quickly that they would love having a sleepover. Philippe suspected something had already been scheduled through one of his little brothers. He hadn’t warned them of anything. They knew the customs of the house and should expect some tie-up to happen; he had no clue how things would play out this time anyway. Hervé had stated quite clearly he intended to have the older boys doing his will. His older brother knew how eager the youngster was to tie-up his elders and gag them.

Philippe was growing a bit nervous now; he was having second thoughts about letting his kid brothers have their way but it was too late. Not only was he pinned to the chair by the numerous coils of rope, but his gob had been filled with a clean sock before a cleave had been made with three turns of thin adhesive tape that went around his head, each turn holding the wadding inside the mouth that couldn’t full close around the amount of material. Yet. Philippe knew from experience that saliva and further pressure would compact the garment until his jaws be closed.

Hervé had completed the gag with a silk scarf tightly wrapped around his lower face, and a final layer of thin leather, using a strap that buckled over Philippe’s neck. Twenty minutes later, Hervé was taking his domineering posture again, standing in front of his bound brother.

“… This will be tons of fun; for us at least. You lads will learn a thing or two too! Plus it’s not like you have a choice…”

Hervé went over his brother’s bonds and gag as he was done with the part he was in charge of; Philippe knew the kid was waiting for Grégory.

He also knew they would be taken back to the Football Club. There had been time spent there by Cédric along with Grégory; Philippe knew his brother wouldn’t waste time, and he could have been doing some improvements that would make it easier to use the place to keep captives, now that he thought of it.

But all this information had been inferred from a rant by Hervé. Hervé was the giggling captor, who chuckled much and made fun of the situation; expanding on Philippe’s poor behaviour, he would list endless punishments and methods to discipline boys; corporal punishment was dealt with. Philippe knew all too well the little blighters weren’t shy about using a riding crop or a slipper to warm up his backside. They had seldom done so; the few times they had, it had been at the centre of their game for a solid hour, with threats and discussions on how to proceed. Of course, the actual smacking was over almost as soon as it had started; but it made for a properly climactic moment in a game.

As the younger boy whirled around him, looking for a flaw in the restraining solution that had been implemented, Philippe could discern a faint smell that he hadn’t picked up from his little brother yet. There was a manlier, more mature fragrance coming from the soap-smelling boy, a scent that the musky aroma of the shower gel didn’t cover.

Philippe wondered whether he was projecting his own taste and peculiar reactions onto his younger brother. But as Hervé walked around, clad only in a pair of white nylon shorts, not wearing any underwear underneath, Philippe couldn’t help but notice the thick sausage rolling underneath.

This, along with the fifteen minutes worth of announcements by Hervé, Philippe had to admit that it could go wrong. Had he created a monster? He then thought of being bound along with Nicolas and Grégory, which had been hinted at too. It was a more pleasant thought than this of being under Hervé’s strict orders and his weird ideas on discipline.

There had been lots of rules, ideas for trials and games; Hervé’s creativity was limitless when it came to keeping his older brother bound and gagged, and dreaming up situations that would require boys to be kept bound and gagged. Philippe really wondered how much responsibility he bore in his little brother’s kinky inventions. He had made up quite a few stories about kidnapped heirs, boys meddling with criminals or young celebrities detained for ransom. He had himself written a story about a boy in an old boarding school initiated by his peers.

There had been time dedicated to writing the continuation of the story. Hervé’s instructions and reviews of Philippe’s literary output were more and more detailed, so Philippe had to write longer and longer excerpts. The main character spent his time bound and gagged by the boys in his dorm, but he also happened to be the recipient of a teacher’s tie-up discipline. This had been an idea from Hervé, and he had helped a lot to flesh out the villainy teacher.

The doorbell rang. No one but the three brothers was in the house. A trade fair at the other end of the country, and his parents were gone for the full three days, thanks to the Armistice, a national holiday. The siblings had gained some autonomy by displaying a perfect behaviour when they were left on their own. Or at least, they’d learned to make sure the necessary standards were respected, and that upon coming home their parents wouldn’t dread the result; a couple Sundays, when they’d been left on their own and this time had been used to restrain Philippe and gag him with whatever forceful solution his younger brothers required; they’d hobbled him towards the end and had him clean up and tidy, with his hands left tied in front of him.

Chapter 2

This had sparked new ideas in Hervé’s mind; having his brother to perform his chores was a perk of playing the games Philippe had initiated. At the same time, Hervé had found an old British story at the school library. The book was a French translation from the 1930s, which sounded very old-fashioned, but it told of the misadventures of a boy at a boarding school in the late nineteenth century. One part that interested Hervé was the fact that the boy had to be at the service of his older roommate; if Philippe was made into a little boy, he could also be Hervé’s valet. This story, rehashed by the devious youngster’s mind, had yielded to his demands for the teacher villain; there was a part in which a teacher turned out to be an international smuggler, and he bound the boy inside a shed so he could make a clean escape. Hervé wanted a character who would kidnap the helpless lad on a more regular, if not permanent basis.

Cédric went to answer the door as the ringing bell had gotten the younger siblings to stop what they were doing; they were upstairs, inside Philippe’s room. Sixty yards of rope, a sock, tape, a scarf and a leather strap, the older sibling was the helpless witness to what went on next. Two taller shapes appeared in the doorframe after a couple minutes. Grégory and Nicolas, or to describe them better, Nicolas pushing the bound and gagged blond cutie inside the bedroom. Grégory was wearing his customary red football shorts, not afraid of the cold. He looked at Philippe and grunted; he was wearing a big over the mouth silk scarf, which lay on top of numerous layers keeping one of Nicolas’s sock inside his mouth as padding.

Cédric and Hervé were following closely. Philippe saw how they sprung their trap into action before they launched into an attack to subdue Nicolas. The look on the cute swimmer was one of genuine surprise. Philippe knew how convincing Hervé could be; he had definitely set his sight on Nicolas, and had tried his best to gain his older friend’s trust.

The roping that followed the attack was a betrayal, and Nicolas managed to get a few names across, such as ‘cowards, ‘traitor’, and even the more elaborate though quaint ‘yellow-livered hounds’, which came from some popular fiction the youth had consumed recently.

Verbal creativity wasn’t encouraged for long; once he was sure Nicolas’s hands were solidly restrained behind his back, Cédric clamped his hands around his target’s head, one covering his lips and keeping his jaws shut and the other making it impossible to move his head.

“Make sure Blondie can’t flee, Hervé, and get me something to stick inside this little rebel’s mouth.”

Philippe moaned to protest; if he had understood correctly, this was only the beginning of a very long captivity for the three of them. If the trend towards stricter bondage and punishments was confirmed, it would be a weekend they would remember.

Hervé quickly bound Grégory’s ankles with four turns of rope and a final frapping knot to tighten them. The captive stood far enough from any piece of furniture or blunt angle so he didn’t risk anything from a fall. Hervé grabbed a sleek piece of nylon and rushed to help his brother.

“Philippe’s underwear. I’m afraid he has cum in them. You’ll need to clean them up.”

The ritual surrounding Nicolas’s handling, as he pretended not to want them to cram the dirty piece of swimwear inside his mouth went as expected. It lasted a little, threats were made, various techniques were tried to get him to open his jaws, until eventually they had to cut his breath. After thirty seconds, Philippe’s brothers’ determination being total, the assaulted boy yielded; Cédric moved his hand as soon as he felt his captive release his jaw muscles. He kept his nose pinched, so Nicolas opened his mouth wide and breathed in eagerly, before the ball of soiled sheer fabric plugged his mouth. The hand was back to keep the lips sealed.

“Good boy,” Cédric whispered, “Hervé must have some idea on how to prevent you from spitting Philippe’s Speedos out.”

The young disciplinarian had quite a few. Yet, his intended one was not very original. Nicolas had been Hervé’s guest twice since their night at the Football Club. Twice his head had been mummified. Only his cheekbones and eyes were left uncovered, and there were many comments on how beautiful his eyes were, and on the gag’s effectiveness which left Nicolas unable to reply to any of the taunts and remarks.

Nicolas had developed a peculiar fondness for being under Hervé’s control. Hervé was cute and boyish, and the characters he played didn’t match his looks. Being kept his prisoner, especially along with Philippe, was very exciting. He had genuinely believed Hervé’s offer to join them as captors for the weekend. Nicolas was keen on being the cute lad’s accomplice, with his friends as recipients of the restraints.

Now his hopes of playing out some of his fantasies involving Philippe and Grégory in bondage were gone, he was falling into the mischievous little brothers’ clutches. His moan of protest didn’t reach much beyond the padding and the hand gagging him. Four hands got busy with a rubber swim cap, tape of various makes and textures, and ten minutes later, Nicolas’s head was swathed in a cocoon of tape.

A small triangle, its base above his eyebrows and its point just below the prisoner’s nostrils, was left free from tape. He knew from experience that he could make noise through his nose, but that no speech would come across, his jaws being kept locked around the tasty wadding.

Nicolas was getting used to some of the sex games played among their group. He found the idea of sucking on another boy’s underwear gross; he couldn’t help deriving some pleasure from actually doing it.

Nicolas was left trussed up on his belly, lying face down over the fluffy carpet. He wasn’t hogtied per se; his ankles were still bound to the top of his thighs, which made moving similarly difficult.

“Well done, Cédric. The three little blighters must obey us now. Not that they can do much else!”

There’s chuckling from the pubescent brothers. Hervé still feels like giving some information for the benefit of his guests.

“They need to learn to obey better, and we should school them into obedience. First of all, we’ve got to make them feel like little schoolboys, so they see us as their elders and it’s easier for them to respect us.”

Cédric fetched a large travel bag; it contained clothing carefully folded. The brothers took out shorts, shirts and socks. They weren’t rigorously the same, but they all could feature as the intended school boy clothing that had been talked about.

“It’s amazing what you can get from the thrift shop with fifty francs nowadays. You need to know what you’re looking for, though. I do.”

Philippe knew how keen his little brother’s eye had become to assess size and to match clothes with the intended wearers. Hence the uniforms the three fifteen-year-old friends had to wear fit them rather well.

Each boy was dressed up in turn. There were a few smacks here and there, when Nicolas didn’t move fast enough and when Philippe sneered at his brothers who praised his looks. It was just a grunt, but Hervé was quick to interpret gagged moans, most often in a way unfavourable to the muzzled speaker. Grégory had his bum smacked four times, as he showed particularly reluctant in being handled by the fiendish brothers.

In the end, the three school mates stood in front of their younger minders. They wore grey shorts, two pairs made of flannel and one being cut in some satiny fabric. They wore white shirts and green wool jumpers. Hervé had even found five matching ties, in a silk-like make, with dark blue and purple stripes. It looked quite British to Hervé.

The uniforms entitled to a complementary rope harness, which kept their forearms folded against each other behind their backs. There was a crotch rope so the harnesses were fully anchored to their bodies, and the captive schoolboys could not shake out free from the ropes.

“Let’s hobble their legs and hood them, and we can take them out…”

There were questions in the silent boys’ eyes, but none of them dared challenge Hervé’s statement. Philippe and Nicolas had a good idea the Football Club was the destination, but Grégory didn’t have a clue what would happen. He’d thought, from Philippe’s innuendo, that this would be a weekend with just the two of them, which was the best tie-up he could have; when Nicolas had tricked him into an escape challenge, he just though this was for a brief moment. Really.

Of course, considering the history of their group, and the amount of tie-up activities that had gone on between them, it was certainly unwise to think that “I dare you to get free of my rope cuffs in less than fifteen minutes” would not turn out to be a gateway to hours, and now possibly days of inescapable bondage.

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STU : Discipline School - Ch. 3 & 4 (m/m) - Updated March 22nd

Postby Bondwriter » Tue Mar 22, 2016 2:50 am

Chapter 3

Hobbling ropes were bound to the boys’ legs just above their knees. Clove-hitches did a good job linking the legs together. Hervé checked his brother’s job; he had him take out a little slack from Grégory’s hobble. Grégory was the most athletic of the trio, so an attempt at escape should be expected.

Hervé shortened the length of rope; he also tightened the rope coiling around his thighs to make it uncomfortable to flex his muscles. The twelve-year-old kidnapper had acquired some knowledge on how rope and restraints worked, and this was an adequate occasion to display his knowhow.

The final touch consisted in covering them for the outside weather. It wasn’t freezing, but it wasn’t this much above zero. Wide wool scarves were wrapped around the schoolboys’ necks. They concealed their lower faces completely. They covered their noses, and the gags were hidden.

Philippe wore a dark green one, Grégory a black one and Nicolas got the navy blue, which, according to Hervé, enhanced his blue eyes ‘most handsomely’.

The capes completed the outfits. These were made of heavy grey wool. They had no sleeves, and covered them from head to knees. The hood parts of the garments were big, and once straightened up properly, stuck out so they could look to the sides. Their faces were also kept within the shade of the hood, as they jutted forward a few inches to the front.

In front, there were six buttons to keep the cape closed. A lace at the neck kept the top closely together. As before, Hervé inspected his brother’s work on Grégory and Philippe after having taken care of Nicolas. The preparatory work was done. They could move on.

“This will be the first test of your obedience. We’re going to take you outside and have you walk to a place where we can freely teach you good manners. You will walk in line, with Nicolas leading the way. The others should keep his pace. If you dawdle or if you misbehave, you know full well that there will be an adapted punishment at the end of the trail.”

Nicolas opened the way, with Grégory in tow and Philippe close on his blond friend’s heels. Cédric opened them the door and preceded the group in the staircase; the walk was cautious; neither captors nor captives wanted to fall, which would have dampened the fun quite a bit.

The three grey shapes then crossed the hall and were made to step outside, with Cédric opening the door for them. It was almost seven; at this time of the year, it meant it was dark. The street lamps glowed through the fog, and the cold air struck the bare thighs of the schoolboys in procession.

Cédric was shoulder to shoulder with Nicolas. He spoke to be heard from the whole troop.

“We’re heading to the Football Club; we’ll take the Grey Barn lane to make it quicker.”

Nicolas knew of the shortcut. It would not only be faster, but the properties on each side were big and the houses not directly on the street, so chances of being seen were even smaller than through the regular residential streets.

Cédric had to switch on a flashlight as they entered the lane; he lit up the side of the road in front of Nicolas. The troop walked at a brisk pace. The hobbles were not so short that they would have to mince, which had caused Hervé’s glee at times when he’d had each individual schoolboy under his control. Grégory was particularly infuriated by being called a sissy because of the silly gait his bound knees induced.

Soon they were crossing the football field. The fog dampened the sound as much as it blurred the shapes; Nicolas did hear the swish of a riding crop and a muffled moan of pain; he knew it was Philippe only when Hervé piped some goading comment. It was not very clear, as the younger brother was a few yards behind; Hervé’s enthusiasm came through nonetheless.

“Hurry up, Philippe, you don’t want to shame us with some poor behaviour in front of your friends.”

The walk ended in front of the Club’s gates, which Cédric had a key to open. The five boys entered a world of warmth and light. They could hear their steps too.

“Up to the Dorm,” Cédric told Nicolas. He followed the instruction and went down the long hall leading up to the stairs. He climbed them and waited for Cédric to open the door. He took slow and regular steps so the others would be able to follow him without incurring Hervé’s wrath.

As they entered, the three helpless pupils noticed there had some work performed in moving furniture around. The bunk beds had been pushed against each other on the left; the cleared space had been used to set up desks. These were individual desks that could accommodate a student each; there were four of them. Two lines, two rows.

Cédric and Hervé removed their students’ capes and scarves and hung them to pegs next to the door. They then lead them to the desks; Nicolas was made to sit in the front one of the left, with Grégory to his side and Philippe just behind him. Straps of canvas and leather were affixed at various points over the pieces of furniture, enabling the immobilization of ankles, knees, waist, chest and arms. The arms were done last, as it required releasing the current wrist to elbow bonds and then pulling them so their hands were palm to palm before his forearms were united with straps at wrists and elbows, both above and below. These straps were tightened against the seat’s back, so they sat with their chests puffing out and their heads held high.

“Let me see your gags, lads,” Hervé said as he moved from one captive to the next, scrutinizing how the various silencing methods had held so far Philippe’s leather belt hadn’t slid down and kept the gag tidy, Nicolas’ss head taping wouldn’t go away without the help of his hands, and the scarf finishing Grégory’s gag clung to his lower face thanks to the thorough tightening of the knot over the neck. It hadn’t loosened at all.

“It seems they haven’t moved, so we’ll keep these rather friendly gags on to start with.”

Hervé stepped in front of them. Cédric came to his side; three pairs of eyes devoured the two brothers. The show they offered was mesmerizing. They were very handsome boys, dressed in enticing tracksuits; the most fascinating yet was the aura the younger kid displayed. In contrast to his brother, whose looks got the heads to turn as he walked on the street, it was an animal power for authority and control that exuded from the youngster.

“You’re wondering what will happen, don’t you?”

The smile meant he expected an answer, so three muffled replies approved.

“I’ve had this idea to have a full class in my school, rather than have you on private lessons. So here we are, in a classroom where I can lecture you. Not to worry, there are ways to restrain your arms while having you write. It’s not like you’re going to be left idle as little boys are prone to.”

His audience would have liked him to get to the point; their gags forced them to wait patiently that the speaker delivered the information they were interested in; a schedule, a list of intended ‘games’… Yet Hervé has something quite unexpected up his sleeve.

“First of all, we need to have an even number of students. I just heard the door open downstairs, so I think we may have a fourth guest soon.”

There was casual talking in the staircase behind the door, along with the sound of steps. The boys coming up weren’t too discreet, and there was rambunctious laughter accompanying some joke that the distance and the echo from the concrete walls made impossible to get from within.

The entrance door was to the pupils’ right, and they turned their heads towards it as much as they could, anticipating the entry, and eager to find out who was coming, since apparently Hervé knew of the intruders. The two minders went to the door themselves, coils of rope in hand, stepping cautiously so they wouldn’t make noise moving on the floorboard.

None of the newcomers were unknown indeed. And the situation that went down was no novelty for any of the boys bound at their desks. Yet the suddenness of the capture that followed, the perfect coordination and the utter disbelief of the victim who was pounced upon still made this a show that kept their attention the whole way through.

Chapter 4

The first face they saw was this of Rémi. He was a classmate of Philippe and Grégory’s. He had a rosy cheeks and eyeglasses; he was a cheerful boy, with usually a bright smile over his round face; his thin straight brown hair fell over his forehead. He wasn’t fat, he wasn’t slender either, but it seemed he was losing his little boy’s chubbiness as he had entered puberty. This seemed a fact for Rémi, who ooked at his broadening shoulders in the bathroom mirror. Yet some of his features were still these of a little boy. One of these was an impressive behind, very round and pleasantly plump. His tracksuit trousers were a bit on the small side and they made it perfectly visible. The reflections on the navy blue nylon showed how the two cheeks were shaped quite explicitly.

Rémi’s eyes opened wide as he spotted the three boys at their desks. He stepped forward, not noticing Cédric and Hervé behind the door; the muffled warnings from Philippe and Grégory fell on deaf ears.

Steph was just behind Rémi. Within the span of less than two seconds, three pairs of arms grabbed the newcomer. Steph caught him in a big bear hug from behind, as the two brothers jumped to catch his legs, Cédric at the ankles and Hervé at the knees.

He was brought to the ground effortlessly. Steph pushed him as Hervé and Cédric were holding his knees and ankles. Steph hung to him, and with his legs on each side of Rémi’s, he moved forward while bending his knees.

The two brothers moved their hands briefly, catching Rémi’s legs again immediately once they’d let Steph’s pass along his body; he was now straddling Rémi. He let go of the bear hug, but he managed to get a hold of the assaulted boy’s wrists. “Heeeey! What are you guys doing? Leave me alone! My glasses!”

They had dropped to the floor after he’d been brought down.

Cédric was now sitting on Rémi’s calves, leaning forward and resting on his thighs. Steph was sitting over the small of his back; he’d managed to grab his arms and lock them tight. With all the weight on the target’s legs and torso, Hervé could move to his head. Steph could even stretch to pick up the fallen glasses and put them in his tracksuit’s jacket’s breast pocket, where no harm would come to them. Steph had agreed to follow Hervé’s lead, but he knew their target could be mad at them, and there was no reason to give him any cause to complain by breaking his things.

“You’ve got no right! I didn’t do anything to you! Stop being jerks and let me go at once or… mmmmbbb! Mmph! Mmmmm… mmbrmph!”

“No use for shouting,” Hervé whispered as he now held the head in a gripping vice, his right hand clinging to Rémi’s lower face and preventing any further command, “I’ve got you and I have no intention to let you go.”

He turned to his accomplices. A quick nod gave the go for the binding. Cédric started with the knees, and he went to the ankles next. He then gave Steph a hand to bind Rémi’s wrists behind his back. As the hands were now made useless, Hervé got a big handkerchief out from his tracksuit pant’s pocket.

Rémi had no experience to counter such an assault; he foolishly opened his mouth to protest again when the hand clamped over it was removed.

“Little bast… mmm! Mmmmm! Mrblmmm! Mmm!”

“Tape, please. Then we’ll see how we handle him, because the lad is feistier than planned.”

Cédric fetched a roll of the silky white adhesive that resisted so well to water and guaranteed to be kept safe from any unpleasant talking.

The taping of the lower face, with the sealing of the lips and the closing of the jaws got Rémi to squirm even further. Hervé could feel the boy under him really wanted out. He almost managed to buck out violently enough to get Hervé off his back. The young one let his entire weight drop onto Rémi, as he had his buttocks over his back, just a bit below his shoulder blades. With Steph now sitting over his nylon-clad bum, Rémi was firmly pinned to the floor, and thoroughly silenced as Cédric perfected the set up with two turns of the tape around the face, strengthening the grip of the expert taping sealing Rémi’s lips.

“This is a rebellious little boy we have here, my friends,” Hervé sneered, addressing his accomplices before he leaned forward, bringing his mouth a few inches away from Rémi’s ear, “and you’d better knock out the fighting act, because there is no way you can escape us. If you behave, I might let you in on a few secrets that got our three little boys over there,” he said, pointing with his chin towards the three captives at their desks, “to need to attend my school. Cédric, ropes, please. A five-metre one, so I can show Rémi I’m not kidding.”

Once he was in possession of the coil of cotton cord, he traded places with Step and threaded the middle of the doubled-up rope around the bonds already encircling the ankles. Once anchored, it was pulled so he’d have to bend his legs at the knees and Hervé passed the two ends around the top of Rémi’s thighs.

“You see, you’re relaxing already,” Hervé whispered as he could feel Rémi’s cock hardening inside the tracksuit; his fingers brushed against the embarrassing display for a fourteen-years-old handled by a younger kid. Hervé put Rémi with his folded legs on his back picked up the ends of the rope and did a final knot just under the hump in the tracksuit, completely out of reach of Rémi’s fingers.

There were still muffled complaints and what must have been insults and threats. The thick gag made it a droning sound that soon became a full part of the scene, along with Hervé’s insistence on calming down. Another piece of rope was produced, and this time its middle was threaded through the coils surrounding Rémi’s knees. Steph helped by keeping Rémi on his back, kneeling behind him at the head, his hands over their victim’s shoulders.

He knew how to play this one, so when Hervé signalled him, Steph picked up Rémi’s shoulders and lifted them, to get him in a sitting position. Hervé was pushing his legs up, so soon he was resting against Steph kneeling behind him, now getting a hand from Cédric to hold him steady. Hervé handed his brother the ends of the rope, and they went under Rémi’s armpits, behind his back and were threaded twice more this way so Rémi’s knees were just under his chin.

“Get him on his side. We’re sure he won’t be able to get in trouble now.”

Steph accompanied the move, and Rémi, now tied into a tight ball, was laid on his flank, facing the three desks so he could see the trio. Without his glasses, it was blurry, but he could fully picture how they all were from what he’d seen as he entered, and projecting what he himself could now experience as far as restraints went.

“Mmmmph! Mmmmm! Mmmrbllm!”

“You may keep trying to insult us or give us orders, but this is completely useless. If you hadn’t noticed, you’re gagged. Gagged little boys can’t get call others names or say silly things that get them punished, so it’s better for you. You should stop, though because I am about to tell you a nice story. And if you calm down, we’ll change you out of the ball tie. Usually, when we tie Philippe this way, he gets cramps within a quarter of an hour.”

Rémi had been turned into a completely helpless captive so fast and so effectively, he had not yet had much time to process the rest of the scene, with three of his classmates dressed into old-time shorts and tied to their desks, all gagged as well as he now was. Without his eyeglasses, he couldn’t make out accurate details, but the shapes he discerned were explicit enough. As he could already imagine how uncomfortable his position would get, and that his curiosity had now been piqued by Hervé’s words, Rémi fell silent. Hervé smiled.

“See? You can be a good boy too! Keep up the good work, and once I’m done with this first little tale of mine, you’ll be bound into a less distressing position.”

Philippe, at his desk, hadn’t lost one single moment of the last few minutes. For one thing, Rémi had a wonderful bum, and his tracksuit enhanced it and made it quite appetizing. He had some background with Rémi, like locker-room stuff and some talks with no one around which had made him wonder if Rémi was one of them. He was very concerned with his brothers actually kidnapping one of his class mates. This could lead to a major fuss if Rémi happened to complain; Philippe wouldn’t blame him, actually; it was one thing of playing with like-minded friends like Grégory or Nicolas, but it was a whole different thing if real kidnapping of unaware boys occurred. For now, though, Philippe didn’t fare better than the just kidnapped teen in stopping Hervé from carrying out his plan.

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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 22nd

Postby sarumansauron » Wed Mar 23, 2016 2:37 pm

Great story! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

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STU: Discipline School - Ch. 5 & 6 - Updated March 26th

Postby Bondwriter » Fri Mar 25, 2016 11:23 pm

Chapter 5

“This might feel like you’re a kidnap victim, Rémi. I won’t lie, you are. But this is for your own good. I’m offering you to belong to our little club. This is how I like to propose. You will be released in a few hours, and you will be given the choice to join my club or to turn down the offer. The introduction and my presentations are not an option. The better you behave, the faster you will be freed and given the choice.”

Rémi was now all ears. He had overcome his fear and anger at being fooled. Having had sweet thoughts about binding and gagging other boys himself, he was afraid Philippe had picked up too well on some things he’d said and enrolled his brothers to ‘initiate’ him.

“I’m opening a class for naughty boys like Philippe and his friends. Maybe I should introduce them to you one by one. I mean, you know their names and stuff, but they have some dirty little secrets. Being part of our group means you will be privy to many other secrets. Let’s start with Grégory, the blonde heartthrob who could be a model. For swimsuits or socks at least.”

There was a disgruntled moan from the victim of the verbal attack; beside a chuckle, it didn’t get any reaction from Hervé.

“Talking of socks, it’s something our little beauty enjoys very much. Especially other boys’ socks. Grégory loves sniffing socked feet or boys’ shoes.”

Grégory couldn’t deny the truth, and he blushed under the layers covering his face. If Hervé told their class mate all their dirty fun secrets, this could be very difficult once he would be freed; what if he told others?

The young master wasn’t too bothered by this possibility.

“Knowing of this little detail, Cédric and I worked really hard on getting smelly socks for having Grégory as a guest. It may seem obvious from how our young friends are currently trussed up that they enjoy being all roped up and our prisoners. Since this summer, Grégory has come to stay over with Philippe on weekends rather often. Last month, we wanted to run a test. Grégory was coming over on Saturday; there was some talk of homework so our parents agreed to the invitation. They usually don’t mind Philippe having Blondie over, as he’s considered a good influence on our brother.”

Grégory listened intently. So far, there hadn’t been any lies. But considering the content of what had gone down on that specific Saturday evening, he was bracing himself up for the continuation.

“We had ordered Philippe to get his friend bound and gagged by five, as soon as the parents would be gone, as they had another one of their meetings out of town. We’d have the house to ourselves until the following morning. When we entered Philippe’s bedroom barely after five, we found Grégory hogtied. You know what a hogtie is, Rémi? It’s when the wrists are tied to the ankles. It’s impossible to get out of this tie and it can be a bit punishing. Like this ball-tie you’re in at the moment? So, we had our boy well trussed up. I pretended I was mad at Philippe for playing a prank on his friend; I told him he’d have to pay by experiencing the same ordeal.”

Grégory remembered vividly Hervé’s indignation. And all the while they’d taken care of Philippe, who soon was lying next to him, they had kept in character.

“We bundled Philippe up on the carpet, next to Gregory. This was when Philippe started protesting. What do you think we did, Rémi?”

The pause meant Rémi was expected to reply. “Hmm?” he grunted.

“You’re right,” the boy exclaimed, “we gagged him! As Philippe had removed Grégory’s tennis shoes, and carefully folded his socks in each one, we grabbed both and plugged Philippe’s mouth up with them. They didn’t smell too good let me tell you. Though, compared to ours that were in a plastic bag, they were lovely. Once gauze and Coban wrap made the gag secure and we told Philippe to clean the socks up, we could turn to Grégory.”

The blond boy sat straight on the chair. It had been quite an exciting time, ending up bound and gagged along with Philippe; his friend’s little brothers were developing a liking for tie-up games, and being their prisoner along with his attractive friend made him all soft inside. He had been grateful that he was lying over his belly, too, as it concealed the very solid bump that he had developed into his nylon shorts he wore without underwear underneath.

As for Rémi, he was thinking about smells. Being unable to see more than spots of colour, for which his mind compensated somehow, with the actual mental picture he had of each of his bound and gagged classmates, whom he’d seen for a few seconds, and whom he’d actually pictured in this state in his mind, especially Philippe. But now, with his friends a few feet in front, all probably deeply aroused by what he looked like, Rémi did get some feedback through his nostrils, smells of aroused teen boys, which made his mind reel.

“We had gotten a pair of Philippe’s well-worn socks from the hamper, so there were three pairs available for our test. We blindfolded Grégory; he was to find out who had worn them just by smelling them. If he won, he and Philippe would spend the evening merely tied to chairs, if he lost, both of them would get a spanking.”

Grégory had been quite motivated by the prospect of saving his friend from the indignity of getting spanked by his brothers. He wasn’t too much into corporal punishment, and Hervé’s eagerness to dominate had been a bit scary. The captive boy vividly remembered the threats of being kept prisoner ‘forever’ if they failed, on top of the punishment he was now talking about to Rémi.

“The smelly socks were put one inch away from his nose. I gave him five seconds per pair to identify who they belonged to. I started over, asking him whose they were. You must be thinking that I had to remove his gag to do so, Rémi, but there are ways to get information fro m a gagged boy, you know. For instance, he can grunt once for yes and twice for no. Have you grown pubes around your dick, Rémi?”

The balled-up Rémi didn’t realize he was supposed to answer this question before Hervé snapped his fingers, interrupting the newbie’s revelling in knowing he had the tufts of dark hair that told he’d gone to the other side of puberty. He had for what seemed like years now, back in February. Since then, there had been more signs he was becoming a man. His taste for caressing his dick being quite a prevalent one.

“You don’t know?” His tone was annoyed. “So, any hair down there, Rémi?”

There was one grunt. It was loud and assertive; of course, Rémi was no longer a little boy, even if he was in fact a late bloomer and the tuft of black hair that had sprouted over the last six months proved it.

“Good,” Hervé sneered, with Step and Cédric chuckling along, “so to have Grégory answer my question, I asked him if the first pair was mine. He grunted twice. He didn’t think they were Philippe’s either. According to him, they were Cédric’s. This was repeated with each pair. In the end, he had gotten one out of three right. It was no surprise he had identified Philippe’s, but he couldn’t tell mine from Cédric’s. Our lads were in for a spanking.”

“Don’t forget we decided on more practice for Grégory! You taped your socks over his gag so they would be just under his nostrils so he’d know how your feet smelled!” Cédric added.

“Yup. Little boys have to learn.”

Rémi, lying on the floor, bundled in ropes and tightly gagged was having conflicted feelings about what was happening. He’d had strange reactions to seeing fictional characters bound and gagged in comic books or cartoons; and he’d relished watching and smelling his peers undress after gym class. The fact his mates were into these things and that it was at the centre of elaborate games actually aroused him. Thanks to the way he was tied, the boner he felt developing couldn’t be seen, with his thighs thus pinned to his chest.

“It seems our newest recruit is actually learning; he’s behaved so far; let’s reward him by getting him in a less uncomfortable tie-up.”

The three captors kneeled around Rémi and the ropes keeping him balled up were untied and loosened. His legs unfolded almost automatically as they were released. Rémi squirmed around and lied face down, so his hard-on couldn’t be seen. He tried to control it; it had to deflate before the little perverts spotted it. Alas, his mind didn’t triumph over his body, and he could feel it getting worse. What followed would make it even more unlikely that he’d manage to conceal his excitement.

Chapter 6

“And now for the pole tie!” Hervé said. “Fetch the height gauge, Cédric, Steph and I will have our new pupil stand up.”

They grabbed Rémi’s under the armpits and made him stand. Hervé spotted the bump in the tracksuit trousers straight away.

“Ha!Ha! Rémi’s having a boner, lads,” he said turning to the three boys at their desks.

Cédric was pushing an old-style height gauge a few feet n front of the boys’ desks. It was made of a wooden platform with one-metre sides and a two-metre pole screwed in its middle. He set it in front of the desks, a couple metres in front.

Rémi was writhing within Steph and Hervé’s grasp; this was the only reaction he deemed fit. Hervé warned him.

“Our new recruit can’t be trusted; something needs to be done”

Rémi got dragged by his two guards towards the platform. As he approached, he noticed coils of rope were wrapped at various places on the pole. He was turned and pulled, his back resting against the long wooden post with its measuring gauge along the height. Cédric was ready for the next step, and he helped Steph to unbind Rémi’s arms and pull them on each side of the pole before Hervé tied his wrists together.

From there on, the trio worked swiftly; whereas the sitting prisoners knew full well what was going on, the newbie had to guess from the ropes that hands wrapped around him what the pole tie was meant to work like. The ropes already hitched to the post in their middle ensnared him one by one at the chest, waist, the top of his thighs, above and below his knees and at his ankles. Steph then reinforced the binding of his forearms with an extra coil, as Hervé and Cédric were adding more in front, one that pinned him closer to the wood running long his spine; they decided to weave some criss-crossing to tighten the bonds holding his legs. The younger boy winked at his brother and accomplice, pointing to the lump writhing inside the tracksuit.

“Before we do this, we should check he didn’t lie about his pubes before,” Hervé stated coldly.

Steph was done with the arms, which were now closely held against each other and the pole.

“I’ll give you a hand. Better make some room.”

The ropes just below his dick and the one above his knees were loosened. Hervé’s nimble fingers grabbed the tracksuit’s waistband and slowly pulled them down.

“Look, Philippe,” he said turning around to look at his brother, taking a step to the side so his oldest brother could see what he was uncovering, “he likes swimwear just like you do.”

Rémi was wearing some tight and hugging green swimwear. He was also pitching a major tent, which the shimmering fabric made quite visible.

“And like you, Nico!”

The three captives being similarly fond of the same clothing, they all regretted they hadn’t spotted Rémi as a prospective tugs player. With his tracksuit trousers at his knees and his dong inflating his nylon briefs, Hervé was close to being done with his mission.

“Now, let’s see this pubic hair.”

He grabbed the swimsuit by the sides, using the very tip of his fingers, as if he were handling some hazardous material. He slowly pulled them down. As expected, the erect sex was in the way; the pouch stretched over the dick, hampered by the peg sticking out until the tension eventually got the expected result. The boy’s dick sprung out and upwards; his face was beet red, as being thus bared by a younger kid ranked quite high on his scale of humiliating situations.

“He didn’t lie, Hervé.” The dick was wobbling around, but the three captors were more focused on Rémi’s pubis.

“Yes. Let’s make him decent again.”

Pulling the briefs over the hard cock proved easier than planned, as Hervé stretched the front of the nylon briefs. He let it go, and the sound of the elastic waistband hitting Rémi’s crotch resounded loudly. The gagged grunt accompanied it, but it was more a reaction of surprise than one of fear.

The tip f Rémi’s manhood was still peeking up the waistband. Cédric was close; he was less shy than his little brother when it came to handling genitals, having touched those of Philippe, Nicolas and Grégory during the games Hervé had initiated over recent weeks. He stepped in and arranged the briefs so they would cover Rémi’s intimacy.

Hervé was already tightening the ropes they had loosened to lower his trousers; he didn’t bother pulling these up.

“All snug and tight. One last detail, and I can move on with my little story…”

Hervé picked up a bag in which they had gathered a few items before they’d left Philippe’s room. He took out a yellow football sock; he got the roll of tape from the floor.

“Grégory’s,” he said as he applied the folded sock over Rémi’s taped up lower face, with the toes resting under the nostrils. The scent was strong, and got Rémi to react by shaking his head, but the single strip of tape going across his face from ear to ear would keep the footwear solidly in place, no matter how strongly he would move his head.

“Mmmph! Mmphgrmblmm!”

“Much too agitated, little boy. Cédric, some gauze maybe?”

Cédric and Steph tackled the head mummification that had been implied by Hervé’s remark. A roll of white gauze was produced and wrapped skilfully so it would imprison Rémi’s jaws and leave only his eyes and nose uncovered. The three final turns went around the post as well as the lower face, pinning Rémi’s moaning head to the height gauge.

“It should quiet him down a bit so he can fully enjoy the smell of Grégory’s stinky feet!”

Grunts came from the blond sock provider on top of the soft moan that Rémi was still emitting; Hervé pretended not to hear any noise.

“So here you are, Rémi, now you know about Grégory’s liking.”

“His boner says Rémi likes this too!” Cédric added.

The kidnap victim realized this was true; there was something disgusting smelling another boy’s dirty socks, and being the bout of such a nasty prank was infuriating, yet he was quite excited by the ordeal. He stood stoically; Hervé was certainly going to make more revelations.

“You’re all set for listening to what I have to tell you about my big brother. I won’t start from the beginning or tell it all; otherwise we’d be there for a week or two. You don’t want to stay at your torture pole for this long, do you?”

“Mmm. Mmm.”

“Good. You’ve understood one thing rather well already. If you want to be released sooner, just behave. Judging from your reaction, you could even get some kick out of this next story. Even if I can’t tell every adventure of Philippe’s that involved him being bound and gagged, you should still know that he’s been doing it for a few years, first by himself and then asking us to play the role of his captors in games he made up. We were the villains who caught him at their secret lair or the Indians who captured and brought him to their camp. Then there was the time he asked us to get Grégory to find him bound and gagged and play the captor. This made the games go a notch higher. I really got more interested in tying him up when I saw his friends being prisoners of Steph’s at his sides. We spent more time talking about this with Philippe and Cédric afterward. Our older brother had lots of stories to tell, he imagined many situations in which boys were trussed up or fettered, and there were always good reasons to prevent them from shouting or speaking, so they would be gagged too. I liked these stories, and I spent time thinking of my own. One idea I had was about a boy who would be kept restrained and silenced inside a hunting lodge after he’d stumbled upon some poachers in his grandfather’s woods. Of course, he would threaten to turn them in so they would have to tie him up so they could finish their business and get away without being bothered.”


Philippe had actually given hints about such a setting, and it was not exactly original. His current position prevented him from belittling Hervé; he was still fascinated by the amount of effort put into the endeavour. Had he not been gagged, he would have probably let his brother talk uninterrupted.

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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated March 26th

Postby sarumansauron » Tue Mar 29, 2016 5:06 pm

Cool chapters 5 and 6! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

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STU Discipline School - Chapter 7 - Updated April 3rd

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Apr 02, 2016 9:41 pm

Thanks! Another chapter, then...

Chapter 7

“There’s a shed at the back of our garden, which could become a hunting lodge and was actually a place where we could play without being disturbed. It’s at the back of the garden, and behind the hedge, it’s a big meadow with a few trees but where no one ever comes. And we did tests: Philippe can’t be heard from the house when we have him bound and gagged in the shed. It was a Saturday afternoon, a couple weeks after we had started school again. We told Philippe not to go in the woods, which would be our garden, and especially not near the hunting lodge, which was the shed, as there could be wrongdoers lurking. After lunch, we went to hide there; Philippe arrived five minutes later. We had our cowboy guns, so we could threaten him and have him put his hands up.”

Cédric chortled. “I searched him for any blade or pointy stuff as you held him at gunpoint. I liked your joke, Hervé, when I grabbed his dick through his shorts and told you there was something large and hard, and you wondered if it was a can of mace…”

The younger sibling smiled modestly.

“It was fun indeed. We had decided to try something new this time, Rémi. Philippe likes rope, but there was this show on TV where the hero’s sidekick got caught by the bad guys and instead of tying him with rope, they wrap him in grey tape, the thick one that’s used for DIY purposes. My dad had bought a pack of three rolls, and they had barely been used in the two years they’d been in the shed. I thought it would be nice to try this new technique.”

Philippe had been upset he didn’t have this idea himself, when they’d started mummifying him.

“We had him take his jersey off. It was warm enough, and having tested a few bits of tape over skin, fabric, concrete or wood, I knew it stuck better to bare skin. We started at the top. We taped his forearms to each other. What was really cool was that we had him cup his elbow with the palm of his hand and we taped his hands to his elbows. Just then, he could no longer move his arms. Then we did a few turns around his arms and chest. And then we did his legs. And then we did his head, with a swim cap over his hair… “

“Get to the point, Hervé,” Cédric said, impatient that his brother would get to the fun part of the story. The boy frowned; he was savouring the moment, catching the reactions of his audience to his tales. Rémi’s were difficult to interpret, considering his immobilization and how little of his face was left uncovered. The three stooges at their desks were giving away more hints of the attention they paid to his story: faint grunts, little head motions, intense blinking, and Hervé was getting better and better at reading these subtle signs. He also loved more and more long descriptions of boys being bound and gagged.

“Don’t rush things, Cédric, I’m sure Rémi likes details. Check by yourself.”

Cédric knew what this meant; he looked at the bulge writhing under the gleaming emerald nylon. He went up to the pole-tied boy and kneaded his crotch to check this was no optical illusion.

“Yes, yes, Hervé, your new pupil likes your story.”

Rémi was in a heavy turmoil. He could no longer decide whether he disliked what was happening or whether there was any shame to be had at all. All he knew was that the touch of Cédric’s fingers, along with the deep look into his eyes, his long eyelashes and the perfect face of his classmate’s brother didn’t do anything to get him softer. He was all ears for what Hervé had to say, anyway.

“Not only this, but you don’t want me to skip the modelling clay stuffing before the taping of his mouth.” Hervé addressed Rémi.

“What makes a gag work is three things: it needs to make the tongue immobile, which is achieved with a wadding; it needs to seal the lips, and it needs to prevent the prisoner from opening his mouth and spitting out the wadding. For this game, I wanted to try something that really fills the mouth but still makes it possible to close the jaws completely. That’s how I came to think about modelling clay. I kneaded a big ball from smaller blocks of different colours. We had Philippe open wide, and I started lodging the clay so it would fill the roof of his mouth. The ball was too big to have our prisoner close his mouth, so I removed a small chunk with my pocket knife. Then it was perfect. Philippe’s mouth was filled to the brink but it could close so it was almost impossible to tell he had all that modelling clay in. Then we taped him with the grey tape. You imagine how it looked, Rémi. It’s just as with the gauze, except this was super sticky!”

“Yes, Philippe may be glad we used the swim cap, because without it he would have been scalped when we removed it.”

The younger boy frowned again and cast a glance to Cédric, clearly meaning his disapproval of this new interruption. He couldn’t disavow his goon in front of the prisoners, though.

“I fully agree. It was a nice touch to protect his hair. We’re not that mean, you see, Rémi? We then pushed Philippe against the shed’s back wall. There were hooks planted on it, dating from the time when my dad used the shed for keeping his gardening tools, which he now stores inside the garage. We made belts at the chest, at the waist and at the knees so Philippe could no longer hop around. He was all swathed in tape, except for his crotch; I had stopped taping above the waistband and started back at the top of his thighs. I’ll tell you, Rémi, if the size of the bulge in his footie shorts is any indication of his happiness, Philippe was more than happy!”

The young narrator gave Cédric a stern look, warning him against any verbal intervention.

“But the best part is what I had thought about next in my story about the kid caught by the poachers. I had imagined that once they’d taped him up inside the hunting lodge and left, a pack of cub scouts had come in, trying to find a shelter because of the coming rain, and that they had made fun of the kid. They then had decided to keep him prisoner longer and played with him in nasty ways, if you catch my drift.”

Cédric, still next to Rémi, felt his crotch. Aware of his little brother’s warning, Cédric didn’t utter a word; he shook his head approvingly, making a little ‘o’ with his thumb and index finger.

“To play the part of the pack of cub scouts, we had our little cousin Julien. He was coming over for the afternoon, as our parents and his had to go to one of their uncles’ birthdays. We are considered reasonable kids and have been left on our own many times over the weekend, and Julien is close to twelve, so there was no big deal, really. He arrived not even ten minutes after we were done binding Philippe in tape, and our mom called out from the house to let us know. We ran to the house to see the grown-ups out and greet our cousin. We like him, as he’s rather easy-going and he’s always cheerful and we laugh a lot together. I offered him to play football when he came, and we put on our kits and shoes before we went out in the garden.”

Hervé was noticing that his bound brother was fidgeting more and more, shaking his head and not controlling small nasal noises, just as he had imagined Philippe would react.

“Say, Steph, Rémi should be allowed to see his audience, they’ve been staring at him non-stop since we’ve trussed him up to his pole. He could enjoy the show our little pupils offer.”

Steph retrieved the eyeglasses, unfolded them and slid the temples through the top layers of gauze, sliding them carefully so they would hold secure while not messing up the general set-up mummifying Rémi’s head. As Steph stepped aside, Rémi could see clearly his classmates restrained to their desks, and the three pairs of eyes looking at him, their faces having a weird expression since their mouths were all covered by some tight material effectively sealing their lips. It made for an unusual sight, yet one that made Rémi feel strangely among friends.


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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated April 3rd

Postby Scottstud94 » Sun Apr 03, 2016 5:18 am


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STU: Discipline School Chapter 8 - Updated April 6th

Postby Bondwriter » Tue Apr 05, 2016 8:30 am

Here is another chapter... Thanks to Nicholas H. for the proofreading/ editing.

Chapter 8

Philippe had been the focus of Hervé’s tale for some time; Rémi looked at his friend. Philippe was a boy he was fond of, as his squat figure often wrapped in tight shiny tracksuit trousers or enticing shorts made for a pleasant sight. Sitting at his desk, this advantageous part of his anatomy was not to be seen; the eyes shining above the swathing enclosing his lower face. There was a scarf, and a leather belt above; it looked tight and it enhanced the blue-grey eyes of his friend.

Being able to see better enabled Rémi to get even more eye candy from being able to see the two little brothers’ features. Rémi liked ogling Philippe’s pert bum, but he liked even better when he could get close to his brothers. Rémi was amazed at their good looks and wanted to think they liked him. The way they displayed this liking was certainly unusual, but having no say in the matter, he was quite content with looking at Hervé’s impish looks as he went on with his story, while casting a glance here and there either at Cédric or the captive students looking at him.

“Cédric left and went inside the shed. We played football for a while with Julien. He is good, so it was fun. Cédric eventually came out from the shed. He said hi to Julien and asked if we’d heard anything. Julien said he didn’t. Cédric told him to come and see.”

Cédric was smiling, while Philippe was looking more and more agitated.

“We came and Cédric showed Philippe to Julien. It took a while for Julien to realize what was happening to his older cousin. Cédric had added bungee cords to keep Philippe’s head pinned to the wall, so he was perfectly still. I gestured him not to make a noise as I explained Julien it was Philippe who’d challenged us to keep him tied up because he thought he was such a great escape artist. Our cousin was very curious about escape artists and asked lots of questions. I explained how it worked, and how we tried to make it quite challenging for Philippe. Cédric told Julien that he had three hours to get free, and that he’d just bound him. Julien was looking at the way Philippe was trussed up standing close to him. He pointed out how the knots were indeed out of the prisoner’s reach.”

Rémi couldn’t turn his eyes away from Philippe now, wondering if he was blushing.

“You remember my story about the cub scouts? To get something similar, we had to leave Julien on his own with Philippe. He had not said anything, like he thought it was weird or something, so I thought it could work. We wouldn’t be far anyway. You see, there is a little gap between two boards outside the shed. I had checked, and you could see the spot where we would bind Philippe very well. We asked Julien if he would like to keep watch on Philippe while we went to get snacks and drinks. He agreed without great enthusiasm, and asked what this would entail. I showed him a pair of scissors, to be used in case of emergency. I foresaw the tyke’s question and said that Philippe would make three loud grunts in a row, and repeat if he needed to be freed because he had a cramp or trouble breathing. I told him he should remove the gag first, but that this would be only if Philippe called this sort of SOS, and that he was a fair player and wouldn’t abuse this. I saw in Philippe’s eyes he understood what I meant, that any abuse would be punished.”

Philippe was reaching a climactic level of embarrassment and excitement. He could feel Rémi’s eyes on him, which made him ashamed. Little did he know that the looks he got were looks of fascinated interest for the adventures his brothers got him to experience.

“I then explained Julien how to ask questions, with the whole yes and no thing I taught you earlier. And that Philippe would answer them. We were all set, so we left the shed, only to go behind it and set watching the show through the slat. We were three or four metres away and there was no wind, so we could hear Julien really well. And Philippe also, but barely. Julien was still looking at Philippe; he was thinking. It didn’t take long before he started asking questions. He made sure Philippe had asked to be bound. He hadn’t, but he was well used to our orders, so he answered he had. Then Julien wanted to know if he was tied up often, if it was a game he played with us only, and all sorts of questions investigating his cousin’s escape artistry hobby. I’ll tell you, Rémi, Philippe made us proud that day. He answered truthfully and didn’t utter a lie.”

Philippe had never told, and probably never would, that he had been aware of the motions behind the wall picking up some shades and reflections as his brothers had gone out. And he knew perfectly well that there was a slot that could be looked through. Hence, he had no choice but to be completely honest with his little cousin; his answers were monitored.

“Julien was funny to watch. He was getting used to the yes or no questions, and he was going in deeper into Philippe’s tie-up activities. He was more and more cheerful and hyper. He started feeling the ropes and the stretched tape, to feel the tightness of the restraints. He was making little jokes that he would love removing his gag but that there was a challenge and that he would help Philippe to play fair. He then started mocking him for not managing any escaping progress. Philippe was writhing like crazy, but of course to no avail.”

Rémi realized that he had been the victim of expert kidnappers, which comforted him for being brought down so easily. Philippe breathed fast and loudly, which Rémi eventually picked up as signs of his discomfort.

“The best part though, was when Julien started asking Philippe about his boner. He was wearing his black shorts, you know the ones, Rémi,” he said, causing the pole-tied boy to experience a pang of shame just as his mate, being thus uncovered, “and his briefs have a big pouch in front, so his dick is not too constrained. It seemed Julien knew more than we thought about dicks or willies, as he said. Once he’d checked that Philippe’s dick had inflated because he was happy, he asked if he could feel it.”

Philippe knew the moment had come. He was very thankful for all his classmates to be so effectively gagged, saving him from any reactions as the dreaded revelation would be made.

“And Philippe said yes! And he said yes again when after feeling him up for a few seconds, Julien asked if he wanted a wank. That’s the word the tyke used. So he set rubbing Philippe’s shorts. He was making comments, wondering how it was to be done, requesting Philippe’s approval for the way he should caress his cock. There were more and more groans and grunts. Philippe tried to swing his hips to accompany our cousin’s gestures. A long wail started, finishing in muffled screams. You see, Rémi, Philippe creamed his shorts being wanked by a little boy. We grabbed the bottle of orange juice and the pack of biscuits I had put there in the morning, and we went back inside the shed. Julien told us what had happened. He wasn’t a liar either. I was really pleased that he and Philippe didn’t fib.”

Philippe realized the world had not collapsed. And Hervé distracted the attention from him next, which provided some relief.

“Could you tell us if Rémi likes what he hears, Ced?”

“Of course. Let me check… Yes, this is quite a woody little Rémi is having,” Cédric grinned as he cupped Rémi’s bulging genitals with his right hand, letting his fingers wandering around, trying to spot the sensitive parts of this new recruit’s manhood through the soft nylon. “Should I get him to cream his briefs too?”

“No, not yet. We need to keep his attention and this would distract him as it does Philippe. What he needs now is to experience part of Philippe’s ordeal. Julien isn’t available, but we could give him a hint of what being taped is like.”

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STU: Discipline School, Ch. 9 (m/m)

Postby Bondwriter » Sun Apr 10, 2016 4:20 am

Almost the end of this episode. There's yet another one after this!
Chapter 9

Steph and Cédric knew what the next phase was. The kidnappers had been talking about this for over three weeks now. The two brothers had spent hours after turning the light off in their bedroom discussing how best to lure Rémi and run his initiation. Steph had provided some advice, but he had relished leaving the organization of this little episode to Hervé. Steph was amused, even fascinated by the gusto the youngster displayed when it came to kidnapping teen boys.

“We’ll need to remove his tracksuit trousers completely to do his legs, Hervé. I’ll take care of this, while you and Cédric may tape his torso.”

Rolls of duct tape were produced; the sound would become familiar to Rémi’s ears over the weekend; this tearing sound that meant some limbs were about to be imprisoned. While turns of the sticky material were applied to his upper torso, around his arms and the pole, he could feel Hervé’s skilled fingers loosening the ropes holding his legs one by one, lowering his trousers that were already at his knees until they were under his bound ankles. Once he’d removed them, the lad went over the ropes again, making them taut and binding them with knots that didn’t give way.

His thighs now bare were also wrapped in tape along with the pole behind him; Hervé was methodical so he would get the proper amount of pressure, the right angle… “Not to worry, Rémi, this will be all quite resistant and you won’t even be able to rebel. We’re kind like this and prevent you from doing anything that would get you punished.” He didn’t say it out loud, but he thought that the removal of the carefully laid tape would be quite a waxing.

Rémi couldn’t move, he felt completely encased with his restraints. The many layers and the tension kept him within their grip; as Cédric and Steph were now kneeling to help Hervé out, he could see the others; he knew they wouldn’t fare better in terms of ‘escape artistry’, as Hervé had said. Three handsome gagged faces were turned towards him and apparently having some definitive interest for the scene; he relished the looks while feeling a tingle of embarrassment. Some confusing feelings he had.

“All done, so now Rémi knows what tape feels like. I may go on with my story about what our three young pupils here enjoy when we have them as our captives. I’m almost done with Philippe’s adventures at the hands of Julien. When we saw how enthusiastic he was about wanking Philippe, we monitored him a bit more closely. It actually got to be the reward for taking good care of his older cousin. The nice thing about being a three-person team is that you can have shifts to watch the prisoner. Julien was quite eager to play the game, and with Philippe having confessed to liking it, he didn’t feel like he was doing anything wrong. Julien was quite eager to learn how to secure someone as well as we had, so we gave him lessons. He knew knots fairly well from having sailed for three or four summers, but he was particularly interested in how to really make a boy silent. We had some gag workshops so he could experiment. He packed a whole napkin as wadding, which made Philippe’s cheeks bulge when he then taped his mouth shut. He was then eager to learn how to mummify someone’s head. His ministrations excited Philippe, of course, so every now and then Julien was granted the right to wank him. Philippe’s shorts were quite soiled, we even had to wipe cum that was dripping down his thighs the third time Julien milked him.”

Philippe was now silent. The worst was over; he saw Hervé had been peeking at Nicolas for a little while, which meant someone else was about to have some dirty little secret revealed.

“Enough about Philippe for now. If you join the club, there will be more stories about him, I could fill a whole book with all the tie-ups he had,” he said as his gaze was ostensibly turning towards Nicolas, “but there are fun things to be told also by our cute little Nico. We weren’t there when he first played tie-up with Steph, but we helped out to keep him captive last summer. The episode I would like to share with you is not one of the many episodes in which we had some fun with Nicolas. I could tell you about how he likes to have things stuck up his arse.”

Darn, Rémi thought, Hervé was into playing with other boys’ bums. This was something else.

“But there’s a secret of his that is more shocking. Let’s start at the beginning. I told you about the night at the football club, when we saved him from Philippe and Grégory who’d kidnapped him. Not exactly saved him, actually, since we kept him bound and gagged. I took him under my wing, and we split in two groups. I introduced Nicolas to my little fancy of a classroom like in the old days, with strict discipline and teachers. He liked it a lot. So much that the following week, as he dropped by to say hi, since he leaves only three streets away from us, he gave me an envelope. I don’t receive much mail, so I was impressed by the thickness of it.”

Nicolas disapproved of this breach in confidentiality, but he knew any protest would be ignored, and likely punished afterwards.

“It was the story about a boy who tries to lure others into tying him up. He has some weird ideas about how he should be handled once he’s been turned into a prisoner. I won’t bore you with the details, and like I said, you’ll be told more if you join the club, but this gave me the idea for another game. We had it a fortnight ago, actually.”

Philippe and Nicolas remembered vividly. This had been an epic evening, though apparently Hervé was trying to top it with this new adventure.

“There was another event that required Julien to stay over. It was a Friday evening this time. Philippe had invited Nicolas. Our parents agreed, of course. Having them follow my orders means that now, when my parents come back from their conferences or whatever meetings they go to, the house is tidier than when they left, so they are not too reluctant to leave us on our own. You’ll have to come and visit, Rémi. If you join the club, that is. Nicolas came at six, our parents being gone long ago. We’d been back shortly after four, and we’d gotten prepared, Philippe and I. I had him shower and put his foot kit on, before I trussed him up in ropes inside the bathroom’s closet. See, this is a kind of ‘hide and seek’. I bind Philippe, and if his guest finds him less than two minutes after he’s been let in, then the two boys get reward points. If he fails, they get penalty points, of course. So, I bound him into a sitting ball-tie.”

Rémi had a hard time believing such games could have been played by some of his classmates. “The wadding in his mouth was his own underwear, the one he’d worn that day. He’d been warned to keep it clean in the morning, so he wasn’t too surprised about it when I packed his mouth with it. I mummified his head with bandage. The nice thing about bandage is that it can be reused, whereas tape cannot. Well, it can somewhat be reused, but not much. So, if you have to remove a gag and apply it again often, bandage will be better for your wallet. I reminded him that there would be two minutes for Nicolas to find him when the doorbell would ring. Nicolas came in later on, I answered the door and let him know of the challenge.”

Philippe admired Hervé’s talent for making things sound simpler than they were. He barely could hear the doorbell from the bottom of his closet, and he knew how his little brother undertook anything possible to prevent his friend from succeeding. Nicolas could say that the description of his arrival was wholly inaccurate.

The rules about playing hide and seek with Philippe as the hidden target didn’t forbid Hervé to hamper the hunting; Nicolas had rung and Hervé had opened the door; yet he didn’t let him in right away. He let him know the timer started, and it took him a solid minute to babble about rules, dedication and stamina; when Nicolas eventually entered, he rushed upstairs to Philippe’s bedroom, which was empty. He then went to his younger brothers’; Cédric was sitting at his desk; he turned his head and greeted Nicolas with a charming smile; in a rush, the visitor checked the closet, and went down on all fours to check under the bed. He was about to leap up and search somewhere else when Hervé told him to freeze, as the time was up.

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STU: Discipline School - Ch. 10 - Updated April 17th

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Apr 16, 2016 8:17 pm

Some more Sweaty Tie-Up : Discipline School. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

“I like challenges, Rémi. Nicolas failed this one. He was on his knees and hands when the time ran out, in our bedroom, looking under Cédric’s bed, which was a good place to look for our prisoner. I had gone to have a look inside the bathroom. Well, not exactly a look, I was checking if Philippe could be heard, and if he was actually trying to help hi friend out. There was some faint hum that came out of the closet. This gag really worked. I came to our bedroom, and saw Nicolas’s bum sticking out, as he was squatting to find Philippe. He was wearing light blue football shorts, with a red hem, and I could see he was wearing his favourite blue swimwear underneath.”

The focus on nylon garments, and especially swimwear, was something that Rémi shared; so far, he’d thought this was quite abnormal; yet it seemed his classmates and their kidnappers liked this too.

“I told him not to move. It was a stroke of luck having him crawling on the floor. You see, Rémi, the story Nicolas had me read was about a boy who was turned into his little brothers’ doggy. And that was my plan for my pupils that evening. So Nicolas was waiting on all fours; I was impressed he didn’t protest or moan. We kneeled down on each side of him with Cédric and started by making his hands into paws by taping them with him holding a tennis ball. Then his wrists were linked to his knees with cord, so he’d have no way to stand up. I had the collar we’d kept from the German shepherd we had when we were little, when we lived in the countryside. It fit snugly around Nicolas’s neck. He yelps a little as I fastened the buckle. Noise meant we reacted properly. He got to taste our underwear. The roll of duct tape lying on the floor, his lips were taped up. I had also done a mask, or a snout rather, using one of these paper masks you use to protect yourself from dust when you saw or sand stuff. I had painted it brown and stuck a little paper ball that was black.”

Nicolas remembered that moment fondly. Hervé enacting his fantasy was a big kick.

“I put him on a leash and we told him he was to keep on searching. The bathroom was the next place to check, and the humming from Philippe calling out could be heard. It was really funny how Nicolas lifted his head and shook it, making little yelps through his gag, just like a puppy. I opened the closet door. Philippe was just like I had left him, sitting with his knees pulled to his chest. He was red in the face from trying to get heard.”

Philippe had grown genuinely concerned about being left on his own for so long. The sight of his friend somewhat turned into a dog, crawling on all fours, with some snout set over his lower face had been comforting. It quickly turned out he was meant to experience the same fate.

“We needed a second doggy, so we released Philippe from his ball-tie and restrained him just as Nicolas was. I used a rope as a leash, using a knot that wouldn’t tighten if he pulled on it. There was one final detail to add so they would be just like puppies. They needed a tail!”

Cédric looked exhilarated by the prospect of this next episode being told by his little brother, and Rémi was moved by his gleaming eye.

“I could have made something that could be clipped to their shorts, but I thought of a better design. I had made dildoes before. You know what a dildo is, Rémi?”

There was a grunt informing his young captor he knew what this was. But he couldn’t figure out how an extinct bird was involved in his devious games. “I had made things to plug up Philippe’s or Nicolas’s bum before. This time I made some with a piece of black rope attached to the end sticking between their buttocks. We greased up the plugs, lowered their shorts and slid the things made of wire and hankies wrapped in turns of tape up their arses. We could even get their shorts back up. We took our mutts for a walk through the house. It was funny to see how they wriggled their butts. The piece of rope that was dangling down looked just like a dog wagging its tail. Philippe was behind Nico, and he seemed interested in watching the show. They had to turn around to climb down the stairs, so it wasn’t just like dogs, but we couldn’t have them roll down the stairs, could we?”

Philippe had been aroused by the sight indeed. From his standpoint, he could see that Nicolas was too, as the slightly spread thighs let him see his friend’s hard cock stretching the nylon of his briefs, which had been poorly identified as shorts by Hervé. The fascinating display had been reversed when they’d gone downstairs, as Nicolas was first and then could benefit from the sight of Philippe’s shorted bum a few steps above him.

“I had planned a little dog training session in the living room. You see, Rémi, dogs have a developed sense of smell.”

The pole-tied boy, having spent his early childhood on a farm, was quite aware of such a fact, probably even more so than Hervé, but of course he couldn’t rebuke the younger boy much in his current state. “Puppies can be trained by playing games. My game was to find smelly clothing by using their nose only. So we blindfolded them and told them there were four socks and two pairs of briefs to be found around the room.”

Cédric looked at his little brother, signalling with a frown and a half-opened mouth that he wanted to barge in. A nod let him know he was allowed to speak.

“It was an even number, so there could be a tie!”

Steph chuckled and Hervé had a faint smile. His brother having delivered his pun, he went on.

“Indeed, and this was a flaw, somehow. I like games in which there’s a winner and a loser. Off they went, totally unable to see. Their ‘paws’ were not much use to feel around them, being all taped up, so they actually both were smart enough to stick their nose close to the floor, where they’d been told the stinky underwear and socks were. I had made sure that they’d been worn long enough to have a strong smell, as when we’d played with Grégory. Our two pups got busy, their snouts guiding them, their butts twisting and their tails swinging as they hurried to collect the most clothes. Nicolas found Philippe’s soiled briefs first. I must say that they had some dubious stains, so they could be detected from a distance; the gag prevented him from catching them with his teeth, so he picked the soiled Speedos with his ‘paws’ and came back to lay them down at our feet. This went on for over twenty five minutes before they collected all of the things set I’d hidden.”

Nicolas had fond memories of this evening. Being treated like a pet had been a fancy of his for a while, and this mixed with being restrained, and under Hervé’s guidance, this was pure bliss. They’d bumped into each other with Philippe a few times, and they’d been told to smell each other’s butt, just like dogs do, which was fun, though not this easy with the blindfolds on. Just like the gags, these were not just for show, and no light came through, as the scarves had been reinforced by strips of tape over their eyes; no light at all came through.

“And it turned out to be a tie, so I decided that this meant no one had won. Which meant none of them would be fed that evening. This saved us the effort of removing their gags, as we trained them further, having them stand on their hind legs, having to push a ball through the room, and all sorts of other dog tricks we could imagine.”

The two ‘dogs’ had found this playful. The evening had gone quickly, and Hervé had eventually bound them on the rug next to his bed for the night. Their collars had been linked to the top of each other’s thighs, effectively getting them into a sixty-nine. They’d of course pleased each other by rubbing their ‘snouts’ against their crotches. It had earned them a punishment the next morning.

Hervé was done with his tale, and didn’t tell of the spanking they’d gotten; he was getting his attention back to Rémi.

“Being trussed up to your pole like you are, you can’t play doggy, Rémi. But we’re going to have your friends get acquainted with your smell.”

The newbie wondered what would happen, since they hadn’t removed his clothing to have them smelled by the other boys. He understood quickly; each captor was busy removing the restraints keeping the ‘pupils bound to their desks, and had them stand, their hands being bound behind them and hobbles tethering their knees. They were brought in front of the platform where Rémi was bound; Cédric laid a pillow at the feet of the pole-tied captive.

The sight and the closeness didn’t help Rémi to calm down; his boner didn’t give any signs of deflating, and he thanked the tightness of the nylon for keeping it somehow in check. When Nicolas’s face was a couple inches away, and he could feel his breath gliding over the stretched garment, he wondered if it would hold on.

“Get a good whiff, Nico. Does he smell OK to you?”

There was a nod, and Nicolas’s wide forehead brushed against the turgid nylon-covered dick. Nicolas was then made to stand up. Grégory was next to kneel in front of the new recruit, and eventually Philippe was also made to smell his classmate’s manhood. The black-haired boy noticed the darker patch over the emerald swimwear. There was the distinct smell of pre-cum, which of course caused Philippe’s own manhood to twitch inside his shorts. It didn’t last, as his brothers had him stand.

“Now, lads, you’re going to be given thirty seconds each to get little Rémi here to shoot his load. You may use any mean you want. The one who will make him cum will earn fifty reward points.”

The roster was the same as for their first introduction to Rémi’s cock. Any mean possible, when you’re kneeling with you arms behind your back, is more or less restricted to your head. The first two players mainly rubbed their noses and gagged mouths against Rémi’s underwear; the boy was close to bursting out, and feeling his friends being pulled away from him was the source of major frustrations each time. Philippe reaped the fruits of his friends’ work; or maybe it was his further experience and knowhow. He used his hair and ears also, making broader strokes against the tented Lycra. He had ten seconds left when a gagged moan informed him that he would be the winner and get the reward points. The blobs of whitish liquid seeping through the fabric confirmed this.

“Well, well, well, my young Rémi,” Hervé sneered, “it seems you don’t fare much better than your little friends. I wonder how I will punish you; I don’t think I granted you permission for squirting out your juice. Don’t worry, once you’ve paid your dues for your mistake, I will help you out and have you learn your lesson. We have all evening, after all…”


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STU: Discipline School -11 & 12 - Updated April 24th

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Apr 23, 2016 8:58 pm

Chapter 11

Rémi still had trouble realizing that all that had happened to him this evening was true. Being kidnapped by the two cute brothers of one of his classmates wasn’t an event he’d thought possible. Having three other classmates bound and gagged along with him was an even weirder situation.

Yet here he was, dressed as a little boy, fettered to a desk as were his three friends, another boy’s underwear, Steph’s actually, stuck in his mouth which had been taped over so he couldn’t spit them out.

The evening had been long and full of tedious moments when he’d been moved from one binding position to the next. He had to endure a long stay trussed up to a height gauge that made for an interesting moving post. Hervé had used his helplessness to feed him tales of his friends’ dirty secrets. Grégory had been exposed for being a socks sniffer, Philippe had to endure the tale of his being wanked by his younger cousin who’d found him all bound and gagged, while Nicolas liked playing the obedient dog, with a tail stuck up his arse.

He’d been wanked himself, if you could call having your friends caress you with their heads and gagged mouths masturbation. Hervé had announced a punishment because Rémi had climaxed much too soon. Despite this hanging threat, he’d been treated well so far. It seemed Hervé, the leader of his abductors and Philippe’s twelve-year-old brother, was running an initiation rite to introduce Rémi to the club his friends had.

He was still having mixed thoughts about this. Being given orders and being turned into an inferior being along with his friends were not something Rémi had longed for. Yet, it seemed to be a game to the other boys, and what was happening during these games was exciting in a strange, naughty way.

The dressing up that had followed being released from the pole had been another occasion of having mixed feelings. Being handled by three other boys for being undressed and then put into a silly, tight and not too comfortable ‘uniform’ would have gotten Rémi to run away if he’d been offered such an activity a few hours earlier. Nevertheless, he’d been unable to master his arousal as he’d been put in the shorts, and a big boner resulted. The beast had been tamed, eventually, after a few minutes of Cédric working the piece of flesh inside the garment.

He had been made to parade for a while, with his wrists bound together at the small of his back. Rémi was protected from the humiliation of the wolf whistles his round rump would have called for. As it mattered, the gags prevented them from commenting.

Hervé had thought of his little ceremony as much for the intended new recruit as for his ‘pupils’. It was fun to be able to tell of their misdeeds while they couldn’t react at all, all bound to the desks and gagged. He knew the boys liked it, or at least they liked stories when they weren’t the main characters and that he relished giving away the sauciest details about their alleged level of perversion.

Eventually, Rémi was allowed to join the group; the boys sat him at the remaining empty desk that in the big dorm, on the first floor of the football club. This was a convenient location, because of its space, its remoteness and the trust Grégory’s uncle, who ran the board, put into his nephew and his friends.

There was no way the four boys could have vandalized anything. They couldn’t even complain. Their hands had been chained in front of them and they had been given notepads and pens. Rémi liked the idea of having his captive students lay down their thoughts in writing.

The instructions were sparse, yet they were quite clear: they were to tell of the strictest tie-up they’d been submitted to. Rémi would have liked to ask a few questions to make sure he’d understood well. He was wondering whether he could tell of his current situation and describe the stringent ball-tie he’d been given; he had doubts this would count, and Hervé must have imagined there had been other times when he’d been bound and gagged.

He had not; he’d done a few experiments with belts and string; he’d played a bit rough and relished the feeling of being wrestled down by his older cousin, who was fifteen. Wish as he might, though, there had been no tie-up for him. Rémi feared he would pass for a pansy in the eyes of his determined captors. He had to make up a good story. They had only one hour, so he couldn’t waste time thinking of an idea. He could always tell of playing cops and robbers with his older cousin. Rémi picked up the pen and dived into his tale.

‘I stayed at my cousin’s farm last summer. He’s fifteen, so he’s quite tall and strong. We played in the barn. I was to go from one side to the next without being caught. There were tractors, bales of straw and all sorts of things to hide behind. My cousin had told me it was a fun game he’d played with a group of friends. But with two players only, it was a bit of a drag.

As I was about to reach the goal, a concrete post at the end of the barn, I felt him tapping my shoulder. I had lost again. I ran away from him, telling him I’d won anyway, that his game sucked and that I’d won. He chased me through the barn. After five minutes, he caught me, lying over my belly over straw, with my cousin sitting on my back so I couldn’t move anymore.

I let him know that he was a weakling, and that I would escape as soon as he would stand up. He chuckled and I felt my arms pulled behind me. He had rope in his hands, and he used it to bind my wrists. When I started yelling for help, he shoved his dirty hankie in my mouth.

He wound string around my head many times; it went through my teeth and forced me to keep his snotty hankie in my mouth. The he bound my knees and ankles with mores before he made me stand up. He pushed me against the concrete post and took a long roll of twine they use for tying up bales of hay, and he started winding it around me and the post. Each turn was tighter and when he was done, half an hour later, I was completely bound to the post. I couldn’t move my arms or legs. He added tape over my already gagged mouth, letting me know he wouldn’t tolerate sore losers. He decided that I would stay for the whole afternoon there so I would learn my lesson.

It was a long wait, as I really couldn’t escape any of my bonds. At some point, my other cousins, who’re younger than me, came to play around in the barn. I couldn’t see them, so they couldn’t see me. I heard them quite well, so I tried to call them so they would release me. But the gag worked well. They stayed for a little while and they left. None of my calls had been heard.

I was starting to wonder if my cousin hadn’t forgotten about me when he finally came back. He freed me and said we were good friends if I had learned my lesson. I said I did.

The hour was up. Hervé collected the works of his class and went back to the teacher’s desk. Cédric and Steph were checking on the students. As the writing time had ended, their hands could be bound behind their backs again; the rest of the fetters were the object of a complete and sturdy inspection. As they were making sure the class would go on undisturbed, Hervé was scanning the written works of his pupils. He went through those of Philippe, Nicolas and Grégory quickly, noticing that they all referred to a situation in which he, Hervé, had gotten them in the strictest tie-up they’d ever experienced.

He expected the same from Rémi; he was surprised by the tale of this other time when the newbie had been trussed up inside a barn, to a beam, no less. He had to stay there for a long time too. So, this was no coincidence. Hervé had spotted that Rémi would be a good target to be introduced to the customs of his little unnamed group. He felt quite proud of being a human bondage lovers’ detector.

“I knew it, lads!” he couldn’t help piping up, “Rémi has played tie-up before. It’s all here, he got bound to a beam in the barn of his cousins.”

This brought some questions from Cédric and Steph on the identity of the ‘abductor’, as they wanted to be told all details that Rémi had managed to cram onto the page during his hour of writing. Rémi felt it could have been a mistake making up a situation in which he’d been tied up worse than by Hervé and his henchmen. Their discussion was now rolling on how expert he was after all, and on how he should be given initiation trials worthy of this previous experience.

He tried quiet grunts and moves with his head to subtly attract Hervé’s attention. He had to inform him of his fib; he had thought in good faith that fiction was permitted, whereas he was expected to tell of his experience. But it wouldn’t do, and Cédric caused much mirth and enthusiasm when he proposed to put him in a ‘kneeling hogtie’. This sounded ominous, and Rémi had a hard time picturing how this could be done.

Chapter 12

Twenty-five minutes later, this had been somewhat explained, through demonstration and first-hand experience, of course. Rémi had been brought back to the pole where he’d been restrained much the same, except for his legs below his knees. Once he was well paired with the pole, with all the junction points sturdy and unlikely to slide along the bar, his feet had been seized and brought up to just below his buttocks, two turns of duct tape ensuring his calves would keep in contact with his thighs.

He had barely gone down, as they had perfected the harness around his chest; Rémi wasn’t sure, as he couldn’t see all that was done to him, especially when it happened behind him. But it had to be linked to the top of the pole too; he felt the ropes coiled under his armpits keeping him from going down.

The ropes going around his knees were linked to the post as a final touch, so he wouldn’t be able to swing his thighs. Hervé took care of these himself, working out the tension cautiously

“I would be ashamed, Rémi, if your strictest tie-up moment wasn’t at our hands. You’ll stay at your pole for four hours. This way, I help you to break your high score. We might even have your feet on the floor after a while if you behave. If you don’t, you’ll remain like this all night.”

The tone was playful. It somewhat alleviated the message; nevertheless, Rémi was fazed by the gang leader’s ruthlessness.

“Now you’ve been properly handled, I should go on with grading papers. Could you get Philippe ready first, lads? I’ve got to make another assessment, but I’m quite sure there was at least a spelling mistake.”

Rémi couldn’t believe the tyke would be able to stop mistakes in the written works of boys two or three years older than he was. Yet, as he pored over the papers, with his mouth agape and his tongue slightly sticking out, he found many occasions to scribble over the papers with a red ball pen.

For the next ten minutes, Rémi exchanged glances with his friends at their desks. Not Philippe, obviously, since he was now turning his back to him. Cédric and Steph had him standing in front of his desk and were busy restraining his legs to it. Hervé was deep into marking his papers. He was done just before they were done with Philippe’s legs’ fetters. His shorts were lowered to his shins before they hobbled his knees; Philippe wore a pair of black nylon briefs. It was some of the swimwear he wore all the time. The proofreader piped in, as he was done and that he could trigger the next stage of his ‘educational’ activities.

“It’s not as bad as it used to be, Philippe; yet, it is far from enough. I think a case of stinging bum should help you memorize for next time.”

He turned to Rémi.

“It’s like in English schools, Rémi. Boys who don’t behave or who get bad grades get ‘corporal punishment’, which means spanking.”

“Or caning!” Cédric added, disagreeing with the idea of corporal punishment being limited to spanking.

“Yes, or whipping…” Hervé rolled his eyes, “I’m trying to make it simple for our new recruit, Cédric, not to make an exposé about English schools. Anyway, let me give the results.”

There was some gasping, and eyes opening wide at the prospect of hearing Hervé’s announcement. He didn’t bother this much about relevant feedback, and usually just told them of the punishment earned. The older teenagers seemed to think this wasn’t arbitrary; they never had an occasion to request more explanation on Hervé’s assessment technique.

“Three major spelling mistakes, Philippe. You still have trouble with agreeing the adjectives in number and gender.”

‘Darn,’ Rémi thought, ‘Hervé is an expert.’

“Overall, the general lay-out is good, and I appreciate your telling a lot about the distress you felt when you were suspended over the lower bunk of the bed at the grandparents’.”

This had actually been an ordeal, more so when his brothers, just about to release him, had to go suddenly and help their grandfather getting wood inside the shed. Philippe had stayed for one hour; Cédric had eventually given an excuse to their granddad so he could release his older brother. After almost three hours with his legs bent and spread, as he was in a sort of hog tie, with the bottom of his feet stuck to each other and held by ropes, with a harness keeping him one foot above the mattress, with many ropes holding him to the slats of the bunk above. Philippe started worrying and didn’t manage either to feel ropes loosening as he writhed to find a way out; there was apparently no one in the house, as his whines were left unanswered.

Only when Cédric entered, and that he replied to his grandmother, did Philippe realize that his grandma had been next door, but that he couldn’t get her attention because his gag smothered the sounds he tried to make effectively. This episode had not found its way inside Philippe’s written tale this evening.

“It could have been much better, since Grandma was knitting six feet from you and that you never got her attention; I had turned her hearing aid down a bit before she’d put it on that morning, but I’m confident that the socks we packed your mouth with would have worked even if I hadn’t.”

He turned to Cédric; his henchman was allowed to tell this bit of the story.

“It was so funny when I came inside; we were testing his limits. He seemed a bit upset, so I loosened the ropes to lower him onto the mattress. I didn’t remove his bonds, and definitely not his gag, because I was afraid he would rat us out.”

Hervé could pick up for telling of the moment when things had to be handled by a pro.

“Half an hour later, he had calmed down enough. This is a nice bit in the story, Phil. It ends with a big laugh from all of us as you had eventually decided this had been a great moment.”

Philippe had told of a happy narrative; Hervé didn’t appreciate criticism much, and he was likely to retaliate to any complaint or grievance thus addressed in writing.

“So, overall, not a bad tale. You will get only fifteen strokes of the Magic Slipper.”

Rémi had a full view of his classmate’s nylon-clad bum, poking at him as he bent over on the desks. Hervé picked an oriental slipper out of one of his desk’s drawers. It was crimson leather, and it was an adult size. He approached Philippe; looking at Rémi he lifted his index finger, about to utter a profound statement.

“This’ll show you, Rémi, that here failing to do one’s best has consequences.”



Philippe’s muffled scream followed the sharp cracking sound another fourteen times. Rémi was deeply troubled; this was mean, and he should have loathed Philippe’s brothers, yet the sight of the quivering buttocks shaking under the assault of Hervé’s slipper-armed hand made him hard again. This time, everybody’s attention was fully on Philippe’s behind, so maybe he would get away with it and he wouldn’t get spotted.

Cédric released his freshly spanked brother; Hervé had demanded Grégory to be next. In his story, Grégory had done a long description of a ball-tie Hervé and Cédric had put him into three weeks earlier. They’d made Philippe witness the whole ordeal, helplessly trussed up to the bunk bed post and unable to save his friend from torture. Once again, the fiendish siblings had procured smelly socks and soiled underwear; the wadding inside his mouth was one sock and a pair of Philippe’s briefs.

He’d been tied over the coffee table of the living room; the boys’ parents had left them on their own once again.. He had lied over his back, with his arms along his flanks and his wrists bound to the top of his thighs for three hours also. The second half had brought much discomfort, which had eventually turned to pain; Grégory had been grateful to the boys when they stopped.

“Fine tale; no major grammar or spelling mistakes. The details on the tie-up are good; the gag could have been described better, especially telling of the stains, the taste and the smell of the wadding. Only three strokes of the Magic Slipper.”

Steph had given a hand to Cédric; Grégory soon bent over, his lowered shorts revealing a pair of his favourite red satiny shorts. Rémi noticed this bum was a little less padded than Philippe’s; Grégory was lean and had a rather thin frame. Rémi found the show pleasant nonetheless, if only because the smooth thighs sticking out of the legs of the shorts were a wonderful sight too. There was some disappointment for the boy held to his post to see the scene end so fast.

As Nicolas had to stand on his turn, Rémi thought they ended with the best looking pair of buttocks. Nicolas had round and firm buttocks; his Umbro swim briefs enhanced their curves. He still had a little bit of baby fat, though it had tended to disappear over the last three months; the nylon-wrapped butt cheeks winked at Rémi as Nicolas replaced Grégory in the bent over position. Rémi was eager to hear Hervé’s sentence; he couldn’t help but hope for lots of grammar and spelling mistakes.

“Last and certainly not least comes Nicolas. I’m glad to learn that your strictest tie-up occurred at our hands too. I was the tine we mummified you in tape and left you in Philippe’s closet for a whole night. And this is because you don’t like confined spaces? This is the first time I hear this from you.”


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Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated April 24th

Postby Bondwriter » Sat Apr 30, 2016 9:02 pm

I'll update with one chapter , and another one during the week...

Chapter 13

Hervé was walking around, and he now faced Nicolas, who lifted his head to look him in the eyes; how could he have, considering he was gagged ninety five percent of the time he saw Hervé? In the background, Rémi’s eyes followed the scene passionately.

“This will be taken into account for future games; but it isn’t acceptable to use an assignment to whine and complain. On top of this, there are FOUR major mistakes. So, I hope you can sit again after the Magic Slipper delivers FORTY strokes of wisdom to your plump rump.”

There was a whining sound from Nicolas; he was strangely exhilarated by the younger boy’s unfairness and humiliations. He had been much troubled by how hard he’d gotten when Hervé had delivered slaps to his buttocks in previous encounters. He still had a hard time accepting the idea that this treatment if done long enough would certainly lead him to orgasm. The show that followed got Rémi aroused to the maximum. The mounds wriggling under the thin layer of sheer nylon were mesmerizing; the waves that ran following the spanks gave indications on what the flesh had to feel like. Rémi longed to touch it.

Hervé stopped after fifteen spanks; he handed the slipper to Step. His henchmen had to take part in the punishment too. Steph aimed quite well, and he knew how to get a good impact; more so, he knew how to get impressive sounds. Nicolas, who was not too adverse to the whole spanking idea, noticed that the sound didn’t match the stinging feeling he could get from some of the smacks.

Cédric had some practice; Nicolas felt the difference once it was his turn. He was as good as Hervé to deliver a sharp blow, but he was stronger too, and some of the slipper hits got him to genuinely scream in pain; the gag flattened any difference in his reactions; no one noticed that Cédric was the master of punishing slipper spanks.

The forty hits were delivered. Hervé lowered Nicolas’s navy-blue Lycra briefs; the front was dripping with cum, his bum was pink and the area that made contact with the slipper was clearly delineated as two circles over each buttock. Rémi caught a brief glimpse of his friend’s butthole before Hervé pulled the briefs back up.

“I see my little Nico reacts a bit strongly to being spanked. Maybe we should stop using this as a punishment for him?”

A begging wail arose from deep within Nicolas’s belly.

“Good grief, Nico, you’re unbelievable!” Hervé chided playfully. “There’s just young Rémi to take care of and then we’re even, pupils.”

Rémi was untied from the pole-tie, every gesture repeated in reverse. He was made to stand next to the desk. There were no shorts to lower this time, and the emerald gleam of the green Lycra caught the whole room’s eyes. It was not only the quality of the sheer fabric that attracted attention; the two globes of flesh that pushed underneath and stretched the material were the main reason for such awareness.

“I must say, Rémi, you didn’t do too bad. Only one mistake. So, congratulations for the job. Of course, since you’re such an expert at reckless games with your cousin, I must imagine you’ve got thick skin and can handle a spanking like no one.”

Rémi didn’t react, waiting to be told of some new indignity.

“That’s thirty strokes for you, my lad. Grit your teeth, it’s coming!”

Hervé didn’t pass the slipper to his henchmen this time. Rémi grunted much, but he wasn’t too sensitive to spankings. He grunted so Hervé would think his aim was good. The noises that were produced were impressive; but as his fellow-spankees had noticed before him, Rémi identified a disconnection between sound and stinging sensation.

At thirty, Hervé released Rémi so he could stand too. His groin was checked for tell-tale signs of his enjoying it as Nicolas did. He was sporting a boner, he had not creamed his Speedos.

“This has been a most pleasant evening; this young man has been shown what our club offered. It’s now time to get you to bed so you have some rest. We may do with some sleep ourselves. We need to be in shape to handle all the activities we planned. We start the real work, tomorrow morning, boys. Good things have an end. ”

The three pupils were standing, not too far away from the new recruit, whom Cédric and Steph were busy releasing. All four were brought closer to the bunk beds on the other side of the room. Philippe was first once again; rolls of duct tape had been produced, and it was likely they would all get the same treatment. The three other captives were wondering how strict their night bondage would be.

Steph and Cédric did the job; Hervé stayed close, if only to prevent some sudden rebellion outbreak from one of the students. He wasn’t big, but being three against one made their odds at overpowering any rebellious pupil very high.

Philippe had his arms and torso freed, while his legs remained bound. Cédric grabbed his wrists and brought his hands in front of his chest. He joined them palm to palm. The joke was obvious.

“Time to pray for being a much better boy, little brother,” Hervé peeped.

Cédric kept his hold as Steph plastered the end of the roll over the tip of his fingers. He turned around with the tape, going an inch or two down with each turn until he’d trapped his forearms together all the way down to his elbows. Steph ripped the tape off; he used another length and wrapped it twice around Philippe’s wrists and then did wider turns around him, keeping his forearms in this sanctimonious position and pinning his upper arms to his sides.

His legs were freed, his shorts and socks completely removed. He was made to lie on his back over the first bunk at the bottom. The bunk beds had been pulled together so it was like an eight-person bed. There was almost no gap between mattresses.

Philippe’s legs were taped. They started under the hem of his shorts’ legs, they skipped the knees and then wrapped his calves, ankles and feet in a cocoon of sticky plastic. The prisoner didn’t complain. Compared to many a night Philippe had spent experimenting Hervé’s fanciful ideas on night ties, this was a reward.

Grégory was next to be made to lie. He was restricted just as his black-haired friend had just been, on his back. Grégory couldn’t believe how easy it was on him.

“Two down, two to go. There’s something you should change, my friends,” Hervé suggested. His audience drank his words.

“And what should we do, Hervé?” Steph asked.

“We can’t have them on the back with the spankings these two got,” Hervé said, turning around Nicolas, putting his hand over his buttock and removing it precipitately as he could have burned himself, “This would be way too cruel. They have to sleep lying over their belly.”

The goons caught the implication. When it came to restraining Nicolas’s and Rémi’s arms, their forearms were welded together like for the others, but behind their back, folded also, so they were in what more expert bondage practitioners would have called a reverse prayer position. With their wrists between their shoulder blades, which Philippe and Grégory saw the minders restraining ruthlessly, the night surely wouldn’t be too peaceful for the poor boys.

Philippe grunted his disapproval, but he was overall ignored. Nicolas and Rémi were also laid out on a mattress each. There were now one bound boy every two mattresses, which left slots for the three captors to slide into. The unrestricted boys fetched sheets and covers and they laid some over their charges while making their sleeping place comfortable.

Before the lights were turned off, Hervé had a last word.

“As I said, boys, enjoy your rest and recover for tomorrow. If I notice that your briefs are moist, wet or stained for any reason, this will be considered a breach of the rules of the highest importance. I will then have no choice but to have you undergo the most severe punishments. And so you really don’t get all horny, I’ll raise the stakes a bit higher and let you know that if one of you gets caught, it’s THE FOUR OF YOU who will pay. You don’t want your friends to suffer for your incontinency.”

Moans were heard throughout the dorm, but they didn’t get many replies. The three guards got into bed, each with two captives on each side. The blankets were pulled over the trussed up ones. The light was switched off, with a few ‘good nights’ exchanged between those who could speak. Cédric then fancied wishing good night to Philippe and Grégory, and demanding they reply, having them do it over because it didn’t sound polite enough. The chatter eventually died and only the faint moves of sleeping boys could be heard.

The bound prisoners wondered what could happen if this lasted almost two more days. They all felt hands slipping under the blankets and ending up touching their private parts. Philippe identified Cédric’s touch. Well, no one had really any surprise anyway. Grégory fought hard, as two boys were having a hand at having him come; the henchmen sure liked the idea of providing Hervé with the opportunity of a punishment.

Steph was busy with Grégory on his left; yet he felt that on his right, Nicolas was bound in a way that was much too stringent, especially considering they were supposed to sleep like this all night. He let Hervé fondle Nicolas’s buttocks on his own, but the moans really sounded distressed.

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Age: 44

STU: Discipline School Chapter 14 - Updated May 6th

Postby Bondwriter » Thu May 05, 2016 8:52 pm

Chapter 14

After twenty minutes, Steph dropped from the bed in the dim glow of the night light. He knew better than to confront Hervé. The youngest of all participants had one hand on a pair of buttocks each; he was assessing which one was the hottest after the healthy slippering they had received.

“Hey, I think Nicolas and Rémi will never make it. Thinking of how we bound their arms, it’s really strict.”

“You’re right,” he whispered back, “this was fun to do, but even Philippe never went through something like this before.”

Hervé reached for the light.

“Good news, my precious ones. Steph has insisted for you having an easier position for the night. You’re going to be bound just like your friends.”

Despite the heavy gags, the relief could be heard. Steph did the whole job, with Hervé giving a hand here and there. There were no futile attempts at resisting, and it all went rather smoothly. The two beneficiaries of the unlikely amnesty were soon in a much more comfortable position.

Except, as Rémi found out soon, they now had their bums against the mattress, and the extremely warm feeling didn’t seem to wane.

The light went out again. Hervé’s hands went out for their search mission; this time, there were turgid lumps of flesh to seize. Though he wasn’t really an expert, he felt some vibrating and shaking at moments, and he felt the wetness that indicated he’d won! He had tricked his ‘pupils’ into making the very fault he’d told them to avoid. There would be triumph in the morning. But the joy of having thus fooled Rémi and Nicolas and the toil of the day, what with all the kidnappings and lectures and transportations, Hervé was tired also; he would have loved tormenting his charges for the whole night, but nature took its toll.

It took Rémi longer to calm down after such a day, and this final wank by Hervé that had kept him figuratively on his toes. He was experiencing a very new feeling; most of it was positive. Having disciplinary measures taken against you by a thirteen-years-old turned out to be more fun than he’d thought. The sight he’d had as he’d creamed his briefs was the sight of his classmates bound in strapado, with their bums merely covered by the thin fabric of their underwear. This image and the grunts caused by the slipper coming into contact with buttocks were the sight and sound that had accompanied his orgasm.

Rémi thought of his little time with his cousins when they’d horsed around, wrestled and ‘initiated’ the younger ones. He had often wished it went further, though he would have never gotten caught saying so. He wondered if this wouldn’t change. After all, there seemed to be more people willing to have this sort of fun than he’d have assumed there were.

His boner rising one last time at the idea of Hervé gagging him with some underwear, and Rémi eventually slept. The light sound of breathing and a very occasional snore ruled the dorm for the next six hours.

The young tyrant was the first one to wake up among the captors. He woke up with his head over Rémi’s shoulder and his hand over his belly. Rémi was awake also; he hadn’t slept that much. He didn’t dare move; as long as the leader of the gang was asleep, Rémi had it relatively easy. His buttocks had stopped hurting and he wasn’t in too much pain from the tie-up. There was also the worrying fact that Hervé had milked him; his hand wasn’t the most expert, but the recruit had creamed his Speedos nonetheless.

The warning the night before had been clear. With the diminutive dictator slowly rising, he would find out soon enough what devious reaction Hervé would have. Rémi felt some unfairness at being punished by the same person who’d actually caused him to go astray and wet his briefs, rather copiously from the feeling he’d had for a few hours before it was somewhat dry.

Hervé jumped out of bed, giving a little pat on Rémi’s head.

“Someone has misbehaved, haven’t we? Let me wake everybody up. There’s no time to dawdle if we want to do everything I’ve planned.”

His henchmen were up quickly, and the tedious job of getting the bound boys out of bed and taking them to the bathroom started. They were put in their PE kits; there had been plans made to optimize the various sequences. There was breakfast next. It was given to the pupils one by one, and the end meant the application of the gag they most likely would have to bear all morning.

The various pieces of underwear collected in the bathroom when they’d been changed into new briefs were used as wadding. Hervé supervised the scene, making sure no one got his own.

When all this preparation was done, all five had been given one of his mates’ undies to suck at; a good swathing of tape encased their lower faces and the use of strips that went around the head at various angles had the student body quiet as ever. They were all standing in the ‘classroom’ area.

They didn’t sit down.

“My lads, today we will assess your physical abilities. We want our boys to have a sound body as well as a sound mind. There will be classroom activities in the evening, if you’ve behaved. For now, we’re going to start with a punishment. We have seen how none of you managed not to spill his seed last night. You had been warned not to. I could whack all of your derrieres again as promised, but it’s tiresome. Let’s see how eager you are to repent for your misdeeds.”

Hervé turned to his goons.

“Link Nicolas to Grégory and Philippe to Rémi.”

The opposite knees and ankles of both couples were bound with coils of white rope, and a frapping knot ensured they wouldn’t slip down.

“You seem all set to go,” Hervé resumed as his henchmen stood up and took a few steps back, “so here is the deal I have for you. To save our energy, only half of you will be punished. This means that out of your two teams, the one losing my little contest gets it. Punishment will be two hours of complete time out, which means not only will you be bound and gagged, but we will blindfold you and put ear plugs so you’re really isolated. The winning team will enjoy more attention as we take care of assessing other physical qualities they have.”

Hervé remained vague, yet the threat of being cut out of the world for two hours seemed insanely long to Rémi.

“Rules are simple. You’ll be timed for doing ten back and forth trips across the room. You have to cross the line represented by the change of tile colours when you’re almost at the wall. The starting line is here,” he said, drawing a line in chalk over the tiled floor.

Hervé had his watch in hand, with the timer on. He pointed to Rémi and Philippe; Steph goaded them to the line.

“Ready? Steady? Go!”

The two linked boys started stumbling. After a few steps, it seemed clear Philippe was giving the twinned racers the impulse; Rémi followed suit. There were no hobbles between their ankles, so they stretched their steps as much as they could. Apparently, Rémi didn’t catch this strategy right away, and Philippe’s annoyed grunt was understood; it got him back on the right track.

Turning around proved difficult without having designed a strategy with one’s partner. Philippe pushed with his shoulder, trying to get it across Rémi’s head that his companion would be the pivot and that he was the one to initiate the turn. Philippe thanked Rémi mentally when he felt his guidance was followed.


It was obviously a ‘yes’ grunt; if it had worked this time, there was no reason it wouldn’t work the same way at the next end.

Each of the runs was done in a slightly shorter time than the others; they crossed the finish line after two minutes and forty-five seconds; Hervé had piped in the score joyfully, turning to the next contestants. He didn’t say a word, but his smirk could mean he thought this was a high score.

“Gentlemen?” Cédric said, grabbing Nicolas’s shoulder and pulling him to the start line.

Hervé performed the ritual and off they went. Nicolas and Grégory had exchanged looks as they witnessed their friends’ run. They kicked off much faster and had no hesitation as to how to best manage the U-turn. They started doing really well.

Hervé was pacing up and down the room, more or less to be at the side of the running bound couple. They really were impressive to watch, as their steps now seemed worthy of a robot, considering how evenly-paced it was. They passed the finish line and sighed, looking at Hervé. He seemed puzzled, then amused.

“Why do you stop? I counted well, and in your fourth crossing, Grégory never passed the line, Nicolas spun him around.”

This couldn’t be.

“You still can make it, but you should hurry…”

Grégory initiated the restart. They went back and forth once again, at the highest speed they could muster.

“Two minutes and fifty-six seconds, my friends. I’m very disappointed in you, Grégory; you should have made sure you had crossed the line. I guess you still have much to learn.”

Hervé’s tone was sarcastic. He then came close to Nicolas, whispering in his ear.

“It seems I’m once again going to have to punish you, Nico; I’m starting to think you like this.”


Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated May 6th

Postby Veracity » Fri May 06, 2016 8:26 pm

Amazingly hot story. Thank you!

Posts: 242
Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

STU: Discipline School Chapter 15 - Updated May 11th

Postby Bondwriter » Tue May 10, 2016 9:24 pm

One more chapter...

Chapter 15

Nicolas remained quiet, being only mildly pleased at the prospect of being left unattended for two hours. When he was under Hervé’s control, especially now that he had accomplices to do his dirty work was being touched and fondled by the boy. Feeling him fondle his bum was great. Sure, Steph, Philippe or Grégory were hot too, but maybe it was also the twisted mind of his friend’s little brother that appealed to him.

Grégory was feistier, and the three captors handled him while he was being trussed up on a chair. Hervé counted aloud the infractions and wrong moves the blonde boy committed, but the prospect of further punishments didn’t decrease his will to escape this particularly annoying treatment.

The three boys turned around and commented their job.

“It should hold, maybe we should loosen this one, it runs along his groin, and it could be on the femoral artery…”

Once all the security and safety aspects had been reviewed, meaning they thought Grégory couldn’t escape and he couldn’t suffer any harm, it was Nicholas’s turn.

“Get him to straddle the chair, so his bum is on the side of the seat. It would be a shame we wouldn’t benefit from the view if Nico gets to sit on his buttocks.”

With his legs tied to the back ones of the chair, his wrists bound behind him and a hobble keeping his head pulled to the top rung of the chair’s back, Nicolas was as securely restrained as his friend. He braced himself for the time he’d have to spend; Hervé had bound him the same way once, and he remembered he’d felt all stiff the next day.

“Now let’s make sure they won’t hear or see so they can meditate peacefully…”

Steph got ear plugs, rubber swim caps and swimming goggles; Hervé took care of Nicolas while the two others handled a fidgety Grégory. The adding to the gag didn’t take long. An extra turn of tape was made from the chin to the top of the head. Hervé then cut four strips of wide tape and stuck them on each goggle, blinding them and preventing their removal.

Nicolas and Grégory were plunged in their own world. They could hear their heart beat and were left to visualize pleasant things in their minds. Grégory went on squirming and trying to loosen the bonds, but the ropes held tight.

Philippe and Rémi had watched the scene without a motion or a sound. Hervé could potentially decide of a similar fate for them too. Now their handlers turned to them.

“We’re done with the losers, time to have fun with the winners. When I say winner, lads, don’t rejoice too much. You’ve won the least of two punishments. We’re going to clean your butt, plug them up and give you a deportment lesson. Deportment, Rémi, is the art of walking gracefully. I expect my boys to be able to walk gracefully even with something up their arse.”

Rémi looked into Philippe’s eyes, with an inquisitive grunt.

“This is very cute to ask your friend Philippe, but I doubt you’ve asked the person who’ll give you the best information!”

A roar of laughter ensued; some taunts never got stale.

They were marched to the bathroom; Cédric had volunteered to keep an eye on the two isolated boys, so Hervé led the manoeuvre with Steph’s help. The enema equipment was ready; the two ‘nurses’ put rubber gloves on.

“Now, Rémi, this is a perfectly safe and rather painless procedure, that is if you don’t move around and refuse to do what I say. Philippe has received quite a few enemas, haven’t you, Phil? Did it hurt?”

“Mmm Mmm.”

“See, I will grease your hole and insert a round tube up your arse. Then you’ll feel water coming in. You then need to hold it for ten minutes.”

The prospect of having something stuck up his bum by other boys, once again triggered mixed feelings in Rémi. His aversion for faeces met his will to be handled intimately by the youngest boy. And seeing Philippe’s naked bum could also be fun.

They were made to face the wall, with their legs unbound and spread open once their shorts and underwear had been pulled down. Rémi felt Hervé’s finger smearing some cream along his butt crack, insisting on his hole. It tickled a bit, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Then the tube slid in.

“It gets in quite easily. You’ve played with your arse hole before, Rémi?”


He couldn’t lie; there had been a screwdriver’s handle that had helped him to explore these weird desires, and with his mom’s hand lotion, it had become easier and easier to get it there; it made his hard-on quite bigger and his wanking even more pleasant.

Once the tubes were well inserted inside the rectums, water was sent in. It was lukewarm, so it didn’t feel too traumatic to Rémi. It was a strange sensation, having water flow up your bum, but not an overly unpleasant one.

Then they had to sit in turns on the commode and let it all go. The brothers made tons of comments with ‘shit’, ‘poo’ or ‘crap’ in them to comment on their elders’ exposed bodily functions.

To Rémi, what happened at the hands of Steph and Hervé wasn’t this bad actually; it smelled and it was a bit gross, of course. But it didn’t hurt and he felt quite well afterwards. There was something exciting about sharing such a humiliation along with Philippe. It seemed from his attitude that Rémi would never have to feel shame for this cleaning time together.

Hervé took out the plugs from his bag. They were a few inches in length and were made of some plastic. There was a swelling that prevented them from disappearing up the depth of the wearer’s fundament. Philippe knew them already, but Rémi still had to experience having the avid fingers lube up his hole and press the dildo up his arse.

“We’re not going to go too hard on you, Rémi. It doesn’t hurt if you don’t squirm and struggle. Just let me show you.”

Rémi felt something pushing at his back passage; the hand guiding the plug was assessing the exact position of the centre and trying to feel his bum up so the best location would be hit; he thought he’d found the place and pushed.

The well greased hole swallowed the black object without the least objection.

“Thanks for making it easy, Rémi. I like it better when I don’t have a reluctant naughty boy trying to dodge what he had coming.”

Philippe was fitted with a similar plug. The captives then had to stand up so Hervé could pull up their briefs and shorts. Hervé made sure to tug well on them so it would make a sort of wedgie that would make the plugs writhe inside.

“You look all nice and decent. It doesn’t look like you are being shagged by a bit of plastic. Now prove you may walk so you don’t get spotted. Is there anything more embarrassing than knowing people you cross in the street think ‘oh, this lad must have something up his arse’?”

Rémi had never really thought of this kind of embarrassment. His worst nightmare had been one in which he arrived at the school in the morning, and found out he was wearing slippers. From there, he realized he was wearing his pyjamas, only to be told he was naked from the waist down when giving a presentation. This dream and its variations had been his idea of embarrassment. But he certainly wouldn’t enjoy it too much if people could see from his demeanour that he was carrying a dildo set up by a younger kid.

He would try to learn from the deportment lesson. Hervé and Steph marched their charges back to a large storage room behind the bathroom, that had to be forty feet in length and half of this in width. Its interesting feature was the wood floor. The instructions were to walk with the feet always on the same floorboard; of course, it forced them to mince, and with the objects sliding inside them, it made for an interesting ordeal. Hervé had relished seeing Nicolas or Philippe undertake this exercise.

Hervé called them ‘missy’ or found other demeaning ways to address them; they were not to stray from the floorboard, and Philippe, especially, moaned loudly when submitted to the treatment.

They started with each boy over a different floorboard. After twenty minutes, Rémi’s steps were more assured and confident. They had to follow each other, and spin on their heel at the same time, never setting foot on the floor if it wasn’t on ‘their’ floorboard.

It turned out to be trickier than he thought, and every time a misstep was made, there was a growl from Hervé; or a chuckle, some time. He then drew lines in his little discipline notebook. It didn’t mean he wasn’t cheering them on.

“Yes, my lads, lots of poise, catch your audience’s eye; this is the way to please a crowd!”

Rémi hadn’t thought of a career in modelling, but it seemed to be a cool job, being heckled by someone who’d like to get into your pants when there is a shared will for this to happen. He strutted with more and more attention, lifting his legs like a dancer doing bar exercises.

Having this thing stuffed up his bum had ceased being weird too. He understood how it reacted to his steps and he mainly liked it. The enema had been OK, but he wasn’t keen on doing it soon, but this provided him with a delicious tingle as his weight shifted from one leg to the other.

The looks and comments from Hervé and Steph were another cause to rejoice. Rémi was a near-sighted rural boy and he’d never felt part of any ‘hip’ crowd, but he couldn’t have joined a better secret society than this group of Hervé’s.


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Age: 44

STU: Discipline School Chapter 16 - Updated May 13th

Postby Bondwriter » Fri May 13, 2016 4:27 am

Another chapter for your reading enjoyment, dear readers.

Chapter 16

“Time’s up, boys, I hope this lesson will do you good.”

Both pupils nodded, Rémi noticeably more vigorously. They were both hard as rocks, and Hervé hadn’t pointed it out too much.

“A final assessment,” Hervé said, approaching the two models. He reached for Rémi’s groin and felt the shorts tented by the boner underneath.

“I feel some wetness here.”

He kneeled down in front of Rémi, putting his nose an inch away from the turgid shorts.

“Oh yes, there’s a naughty little boy who leaks during deportment sessions. This is something we’ll have to work on in the future. What about Phil?”

“Not much better,” Steph replied, having performed similar tests on Hervé’s older brother.

“I was told this could be improved with chastity ribbons?”

“What are these?”

“Just regular ribbons,” Hervé said. He waved two long pink silk ribbons. “You bind them behind their cock and balls and it helps them not to leak.”

“Cool, give me one for Philippe.”

There were anxious grunts as the boys’ shorts were lowered and their genitals seized by a hand, before the ribbons were looped at the base of their genitals and tightened turn after turn. It stopped when Rémi was feeling it would soon be painful.

“Mmmbllm. Mmkmm! Mmmphgrm…”

“Don’t fret, Rémi your balls aren’t going to fall off!” Hervé joked. “I’ll get your shorts up and see if it helps.”

This didn’t decrease their hard-ons in the least, and it strained a bit, so their steps were even more cautiously taken.

“Aren’t they just dainty?”

“Yup, Hervé, they make for a very cute pair.”

Steph cast a glance at his watch.

“The two hours are up; let’s go see if Nico and Greg have made it.”

The group returned to the ‘classroom’; Nicolas could have been a statue, but Grégory shook and moaned, drenched in sweat. Cédric had pulled a chair and sat next to the blond captive, a hand running over his body and whispering comforting words.

“Grégory can’t take it like a man, apparently.”

The prisoner’s shorts were wet too, but not from the sweat only.

“It seems it doesn’t prevent him from shooting his load,” Hervé commented, as there was no doubt it was cum that had passed through the shorts.

“He reacts quickly when you touch him, that’s for sure!” Cédric confirmed.

The swim caps, the tape holding them, the goggles and the ear plugs were removed. Nicolas’s face was its cute placid self but Grégory was more agitated. Hervé put his index finger over the boy’s lips.

“Shh. You’ve behaved so far, you’re not going to cause mayhem now, my boy.”

“Mmm… Grmmph! Mpp! Mmmbbbllm.”

It clearly sounded like threats or insults, possibly both.

“I doubt being angry will solve anything. We have you, and we’ll let you go when we see fit. And until then, I think you should remain bound securely; and of course, having no desire to hear your whining or any ranting, I think we’d better leave the gag on.”

The tone turned from aggressive to pleading, but Hervé had decided, and he had no reason to overturn his own decision.

“It’s getting to be lunch soon, and we’ve had quite a morning already. But I’m afraid you’ll have to keep chewing on this nice pair of underwear that fills your mouth so fully, Greg. And let this be a lesson to any of my pupils who would think he may misbehave,” he said turning towards his three other captives.

Hervé acted with detachment and determination; his victims found him quite convincing and amazingly self-assured. They were also wondering how far he would take all this. He had allies, though, and at no point had Cédric or Steph protested against anything he’d said and done. The three boys kept their head low. Grégory was protesting in a growingly subdued way; soon Hervé was able to break the silence as he went on with his speech.

“And two of you will earn the privilege of serving us lunch. Except for our young Grégory, who would certainly be most unpleasant if released, we’ll say this morning’s activities have more or less cleared the slate for you three. And don’t think that the one who performs the worst will be safe from serving us.”

Cédric and Steph smirked; they could think of dozens of ways to use an extra bound and gagged boy to serve. And all three of the potential candidates to the position were an option for providing various services outside waiting on them as they ate.

“Cédric, would you want to challenge our friends here to enduring one of your famous wanks?”

“What? Me? Caress your little blighters? Sure, why not?”

Rémi was awestruck by Cédric’s fourteen-year old beauty, his fine and delicate features, and the hidden perversion of his words accompanied by the most angelic smile. The new recruit happened to be the one the nearest to Philippe’s brother; Cédric stepped in front of him.

“I’ll start with Rémi.”

“Good, the rule is simple: he who resists the longest to Cédric, and shoots the latest wins. Second best waits on us at the table too and number three will be used as a footstool for our comfort.”

Rémi found all his adventures quite titillating so far, but there was a slight slowdown in his libido. He also tried to think of the punishments and of having their three captors rest their feet on him, bound and gagged. It saved him for a while, but Cédric had found out how to press just under his knob and make a little come and go motion that got his dick super hard and had him orgasm soon after.

Nicolas held on longer yet. His punishment had been quite taxing and he was barely recovering. This was also the boy Cédric had the least experience with. He lasted ninety seconds longer than Rémi.

Philippe never stood a chance. Cédric knew the gestures, the words and the facial expressions he had to adopt to get his kinky brother to spray jizz all over the place. He actually collected the thick gobs of semen Philippe’s dick spat out in a thin hankie.

“You managed to go over a minute, this time, Phil. It’s obviously not good enough. Well, Nicolas and Rémi, I hope you will be proper waiters. I’ll see to it with Steph. Cédric, would you get our bro into a ball-tie?”

The two groups moved on with their preparations; the lunch was more like a picnic, but Hervé thought a little style wouldn’t hurt. He had chains for such an occasion, and he had found inexpensive dog collars that were the right size to buckle around wrists or ankles, with a strong ring sewn onto them. That made for very nice cuffs, and soon the two maids were in chains and ready to perform their duties.

Under the table, Philippe had been bound in a ball-tie, and not on his back but facing down. There were bars running across the table that had allowed Cédric to thread ropes that supported him a little. They mainly prevented him from moving in a more comfortable (or at least a less uncomfortable) position, on the side for instance. He’d grunted when Cédric had put him like this, telling that the meal would never last over two hours. Of course, he had gotten a crystalline and joyful laughter in response only.

Hervé then lead his staff to the fridge and cupboards where they were to take food from. He kept his little notebook in hand, scribbling in it now and then. Whenever he did after Rémi had done something not exactly as required, the new recruit blanched, wondering if the amount of points he was given could lead to some unpleasant treatment.

Then he told them how to set the table. Hervé wasn’t the best at explaining this stuff, but he didn’t wonder if his instructions were understandable. He just saw they hadn’t been followed.

“Well, you look a bit clumsy, but we’ll consider this is a start, so I won’t go too hard on you. Yet. Now the table is ready, let’s sit and see if you’re better at waiting on us than at fetching stuff.”

The three unrestrained boys reigned over the kitchen; they sat down, making sure Philippe was reachable with their feet and that none of the ropes that kept him under the table were in the way. Hervé had removed his sneakers and slid his socks under his big brother’s nose. The sharp and tangy smell was yet another sign Philippe received that his baby brother had gone to the other side of puberty. He had a knack to get them right where his nostrils could benefit the most from the smell. Not right over them, but close enough that the air intake would be appropriately seeded with the cheesy molecules.

Nicolas and Rémi were sweating. A flurry of guidelines were given, on what they should do, in which order, and reacting to which prompts. They were quite confused by the wordy speech Hervé was giving, slumped in his chair, and brandishing paper and pen as the weapons of his subjugation.

Grégory didn’t say a word, of course; the little git was going too far in his mind. When would there be a rebellion?

“No, Nicolas, I said the glass should never be over two-thirds full…”

The more it went, the more confused they were. Philippe was being massaged by three pairs of feet, and hearing his little brother’s harassing the staff, he wondered if he didn’t have it better than they did.

“I think we’re done at last, are you lads?”

Cédric and Steph grunted they were; there was stuff to do with their feet before they turned to the restrained staff. They had removed their shoes and socks; they were feeling Philippe with their soles and toes. Steph had managed to slide his left foot along Phil’s butt crack; he pushed a little and his big toe fondled the ball-tied boy’s balls, causing a concerned grunt.

Cédric shared his younger brother’s interest and presented his socked feet to his brother’s face, caressing his gagged face and patting his head with his soles, covered by the sweaty socks he’d worn for a few days. This didn’t stop the trio of jailers to keep harassing the remaining boys.


Posts: 242
Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

STU: Discipline School Chapter 17 - Updated May 21st

Postby Bondwriter » Sat May 21, 2016 1:14 am

Chapter 17

“OK, lads,” Hervé said, “This hasn’t been brilliant so far. You’d better clean up fast and without forgetting a thing. I don’t feel like having to punish you again, but when facing stubborn little dimwits who refuse to understand, I know of ways to get a little sense through their heads.”

They all doubted this, but Rémi and Nicolas hurried and managed to avoid the worst: Rémi tripped but he managed to hold on to the plates and silverware he was carrying.

Philippe could see Grégory’s legs when Cédric’s foot didn’t block his view. He witnessed the thrills running through the tense muscles in reaction to Hervé’s demeaning remarks, which were effectively upsetting Grégory. This had gone on for too long, and the prospect of more ‘games’ that would lead to more punishments, each a little meaner than the previous one wasn’t sexy at all compared to the fun they usually had. Sure, Nicolas had been kidnapped rather nastily, and Steph and Cédric had also been rather roughly handled at the hands of Philippe and Grégory. But they never had them as their dogs or slaves for two days straight, with barely a break and a stop in the flow of nasty talk Hervé was now mastering.

He longed for a nice spread-eagle in Philippe’s bed, with tape encircling his head and his friends hands holding his hips as he ground his and that they fenced with their dick before his legs would be untied, lifted and bound to the bedhead so he could be fucked. But no, he was ‘punished’, the chair tie-up was beginning to hurt and none of his calls for attention got any result.

The three stooges had taken Nicolas and Rémi to the desks; they sat and chained them before Steph and Cédric went to release Philippe from under the table so he would join his friends.

“You will fill in the questionnaire, lads,” Hervé was instructing the ‘schoolboys’. Philippe knew what it was about. He’d been the guinea pig for such extensive information quests. Hervé liked using ‘adult’ language, and he’d read lots of biology books, usually for higher forms than his, that dealt with sex education. He’d studied the various anatomical charts displaying the male’s genitals and digestive apparel. He knew the names of lots of muscles in the arms and legs. He had been a much appreciated pupil when he’d joined the first aid class.

He was reading the questions aloud, dictating them to the students; Philippe really wondered how his friends were taking it. His search for information concerned things like the scrotum, the rectum, and all sorts of other parts Philippe knew were between the waist and the legs.

Grégory wasn’t taking it well at all, apparently. Philippe had to use his older sibling authority to bring Hervé to reason. As Steph and Cédric brought him to his desk, he saw a way to communicate with Hervé. He had the same questionnaire to answer, Hervé putting the sheet he’d scribbled them on in front of his eyes.

‘Hervé, release us, this is going too far and’

He didn’t have time to write anything else. Hervé had grabbed his pen.

“Boys, could you come and give me a hand. We’ve got another little rebel to handle.”

Philippe’s shouting was genuine, but his brothers had grown used to ignoring him. He was unchained from the desk and dragged to the pole where they practiced their skills at coordinating a proper pole tie. He was ear-plugged, his skull was covered with a swim cap and his head mummified. A blindfold, and he was to suffer his plea for as long as it pleased the tykes.

Being thus plunged into silence and darkness reinforced Philippe’s willingness to escape from his brothers’ clutches. He was torn between his eagerness to be their captive and the reality that the game had to change track.

It was a little less than two hours later when he was released from the beam and sat back at his desk. Grégory had been freed from the chair also and he had joined Hervé’s ‘class’.

Philippe was assigned the task to write about how he would kidnap one of his friends for the summer, whereas Grégory had to rate a list of the boys at school, and make comments about which he would like to tie up and which he would enjoy tying him up.

The two friends exchanged a few furtive glances. Philippe saw Grégory softly tearing a page from the notebook and cutting a small piece with his fingers. Philippe kept his head immobile. When Grégory was sure none of their captors were looking in his direction, he handed the paper to Philippe. The desks were close; their chains allowed them to pass the note quickly and without dropping it. It was as well. The note read: ‘he’s crazy we got to escape.’

So Philippe had read Grégory’s body language correctly.

‘how?’ he scribbled, flashing the note to Grégory.

Grégory tore another small square of paper and wrote something. It was another five minutes before he could pass the note undetected.

‘got to convince Steph or Ced”

This seemed wise. Philippe raised his thumb to his friend and went back to his stupid assignment, not wanting to infuriate Hervé and incur some more revenge and punishment.

It was much longer before the ‘class was over’; Cédric took the captive boys to the bathroom one by one, and then took them to Steph, who removed their gags and let them have a drink and an apple as a snack.

This took place in the room beyond the bathroom, where there had been deportment lessons. Far away from Hervé’s ears, Philippe attempted to speak to Steph. He was surprised as his ‘Listen, Steph’ wasn’t followed by a hand clamping over his mouth or a cum-and-saliva-soaked rag stuffed into his gob;


“Man, this is getting out of hand! You guys kidnapped Rémi, he never agreed to this! If he whines, this may be considered kidnapping!”

“Nah. Hervé knows what he’s doing. Rémi hasn’t been picked at random, trust me. He’s having the time of his life!”

“Well, we aren’t, at least Grégory and I. Do something. What will Hervé do to us if this is to last for more than a day?”

“OK, OK. I see your point. Maybe it’s getting to be a bit heavy. I’ll see what I can do. For now, you’re going to get the gag back on. I’ll try to find a way to get you out of this soon.”

The reassuring smile worked on Philippe. He opened his jaws wide and took in the slimy piece of fabric Steph offered his lips.

“Let me make sure you don’t speak up. I’m not sure Hervé wouldn’t retaliate, so you’re better off shutting up.”

Philippe thought he’d gained an ally; this had been rather easy. He’d been friend with Steph since primary school, it would have been a shame they wouldn’t support each other. Steph marched him back to the dorm. Grégory was still with Cédric, but the two others had been chained back to their desks.

What came next was like a cold shower for Philippe.

“Guess what, Hervé; your brother has decided to play the rabble-rouser. He tried to convince me to turn against you.”

“Hmmph! Mmmmbrgrmmph!”

Philippe was frantic; he hadn’t expected such betrayal. Steph was going on pledging his allegiance to Hervé, and mocking Philippe for having acted so foolishly that he now was about to be accordingly punished.

Hervé was looking over Rémi’s shoulder, certainly monitoring the output of smutty confessions he was extracting from the two older boys. He turned to Steph and had a look at his wide-eyed older brother.

“Height gauge, Ced.”

“Yup, I’ll go get it right away.”

“I’m disappointed with you, Phil. So far you’d behaved up to our standards. Seeing you side with the rebellious heartthrob makes you one of our foes. You’re both going to be trussed up to the torture pole. This time, though, you might set a new endurance record if you don’t break down like wimps before your time is up. I mean, you did fine with two hours earlier on, we’ll see if you can double this time.”

The handling of the two rebellious captives was more of a struggle. But at three against one, and with all the various tools of persuasion and subjugation available to Hervé, it was doable. The riding crop was wielded moderately, but straps and cuffs were used rather extensively to prevent unwanted reactions.

Forty-five minutes later, Grégory and Philippe stood trussed up back to back to the height gauge, restrained with ropes, their hands taped to each other’s. Feeling a friend’s warmth was pleasant and comforting; having your fingers immobilized was a bit more distressing.

Grégory and Philippe kept on pleading, calling out in the hope Rémi and Nicolas would understand that their number and size should allow all of Hervé’s ‘class’ of obedient little boys to overpower their aggressors. But they didn’t seem to get their message across through the gags that had been applied. Their heads were mummified once again, capped with rubber and wrapped with imprisoning tape. Their eyes weren’t taped, yet their ears had been plugged.

“Nice work, my friends,” Hervé praised his henchmen. “Let’s take the obedient ones for a little walk. I wouldn’t mind taking a nap, and with the ruckus our revolutionaries make, I doubt I can snooze easily.”


Re: Sweaty Tie-Up Saga (m/m) - Updated May 21st

Postby Veracity » Wed May 25, 2016 8:04 am

Ah, the cold slap of betrayal! Silly Philippe, he should have known better!

Posts: 242
Joined: Sat May 23, 2015 6:45 am
Age: 44

STU: Discipline School Chapter 18 - Updated May 30th

Postby Bondwriter » Sun May 29, 2016 10:48 pm

Philippe and Grégory have fallen in the hands of ruthless captors indeed. Will tables be turned at some point?

Chapter 18

Rémi and Nicolas were released from their desks and put on a leash. They looked at the two pole-tied captives; to them, it seemed what happened to the punished boys made complete sense. They followed Hervé docilely as he gave a little tug with a flick of the wrist.

The door slammed shut behind the group, leaving the two prisoners at their stake alone. They squirmed and spoke to each other. Their words could pass for nonsense, yet Grégory perfectly understood that there was something with the right wrist that was wrong. Philippe’s right wrist, as he tugged on Grégory’s left one. The tape holding their hands was the poorer duct tape quality Hervé had in store, and with all their efforts, the sweat they’d produced allowed them to get their hands out of their silver cocoon. Grégory’s fingers felt for their right wrist. He felt a knot which he picked easily. From there, Philippe replied by unbuckling a strap.

The pair of escape artists were frantic; they had to pull their stunt before Hervé and his fiendish accomplices were back. Once their wrists and hands were freed, it all came down rather easily. They could start bending, turning and less than ten minutes later they were free from the height gauge. They each removed their gags, helping each other at various points in the lengthy operation.

“The bastards! Let’s get away fast. There’s a way through the room in the back,” Grégory said.

Philippe nodded; he grabbed coils of rope and some tape and stuff he threw inside a bag. They ran to the end of the building. There was an emergency exit that had been installed, with a rudimentary iron staircase. But they were out, and free from Hervé’s tyranny.

Now that they’d gotten away from the immediate threat of being captured again, they went to a small shed next to the football field to be hidden from view if the others searched for them. What was to be done wasn’t quite clear. Alerting parents or relatives was out of the question; this would mean a sure end to their games, and they didn’t want to be punished for Hervé’s recklessness. Plus, having been kidnapped by a boy three years younger than they were wasn’t really something they would boast about in any case.

“We need to go in and subdue them one by one,” Grégory whispered.

“I say let’s wait for them somewhere they will come to sooner or later. We set up an ambush, we entrap them, we bind and gag them and we give them a little lesson of our own.”

The debate went on; eventually, it got settled in favour of Philippe. They heard a door in the distance, the entrance door to the Football Club. Hervé’s high-pitched voice went on piping his demands.

“Come back now and you won’t be punished too hard. Come on lads. Get over here.”

This really reminded Grégory of the way people talked to their dog. They couldn’t hear anybody else. He peeked briefly who was with him, careful not to be seen.

“He’s all alone, Phil. And he’s coming our way…”

Philippe smiled at his blond friend.

“Very, very good. I usually like being tied up better, but today I think I’ll make an exception.”

Hervé didn’t see it coming. He was brought to the floor as soon as he went round the corner. Grégory handgagged him so he wouldn’t be able to alert the pair of goons that would be next in the revenge he wanted exemplary.

“Don’t even think of making a peep, you rascal. Your reign of terror has just ended…”

The boy struggled, but he was no match to the two older boys who had subdued him almost effortlessly.

“OK, Greg, hold him fast.”

Grégory was straddling the smaller boy, sitting over the small of his back and using his handgag to pull his prisoner towards him and make squirming more difficult. Philippe soon had the legs tied at ankles knees and upper thighs, with the mandatory frapping knot that made the circles of rope inescapable manacles.

“We’ll gag him before we do his arms. Steph and Cédric might be around, we’d better be cautious.”

There was some silk scarf among the things Philippe had stuffed in the bag when they’d made their escape. But he thought that he had better in store. From the corner of his eye, Grégory saw Philippe grabbing his shorts’ waistband and pull them down, along with his fancy underwear. His dick had twitched inside the briefs and he’d been aroused while being indignant at the same time. He had leaked quite an amount of seminal liquid; it smelled, and this would be a proper way to shut his little brother up before they moved on towards more refined tortures. He’d leave Greg handle this, as his tugs companion seemed more fired up than he himself was.

There was a complicit smile from his blond friend, who removed his hand just in sync with Philippe’s move. Hervé actually fell for the trick and opened his mouth to protest; Philippe had approached stealthily enough that the younger boy had had no inkling of what was coming. The muffled screams and sternly formulated demands fell on deaf ears. Grégory clamped his hand over the mouth again.

“Obedient little boys are proud to launder their elders’ underwear, aren’t they, Hervé?”

Grégory had frustration to get out of his system; he hadn’t settled over a preferred method, but some came to mind, and combinations of said methods gave birth to yet newer ideas. Grégory had never felt such a feral feeling as he was overpowering a dreaded opponent.

Philippe had gotten his roll of silencing material; their four hands coordinated fairly well around the boy’s lower face so it was soon stuck in a mass of surgical tape, lips sealed by three final turns passed around the head.

Two ropes were used to bind his arms behind his back. There was a muffled yelp when Grégory yanked the final frapping knot binding his tormentor’s wrists. They sat him on the floor and dragged him to the back of the shed where there was a bike rack. They bound him to it with the remaining ropes woven in a harness around Hervé’s torso. They stood with their prisoner at their feet, a smug smile over their faces.

“I like you so much better like this, Hervé. Humble, demure, quiet and peaceful. Your agitation and your blabbering were starting to have me really dislike you. But sitting at our feet, keeping still and quiet, you start being Philippe’s cute baby brother again.”

Hervé roared in his gag, he got the husky laughter of his friend in response, as well as Grégory’s high-pitched chuckling.

“We could gloat for hours, but I think there are two lads who would certainly like to show their solidarity with their dear leader Hervé, and don’t worry, I don’t plan to go any easier on them than I will on you.”

Grégory kneeled down and took out the lace that the thwarted dictator had around his neck; the keys of the building and some others that had to open padlocks hung down. Philippe and Grégory moved on. They hadn’t gathered any information as to where Hervé’s accomplices could be; they headed back to the main entrance, where Hervé had come from, and opened it with the key.

They got lucky. They entered and saw some light coming from the toilets next to the changing-room. They creeped up on Cédric; he was just putting his junk back into his shorts after taking a leak when they jumped on him. Being without supplies, they had to improvise. Cédric’s jersey, socks and shoelaces were put to contribution, and the two friends managed a fine restrictive tie-up with the modest means they had.

“Two down, one to go,” Grégory whispered as he shook Philippe’s hand.

They tip-toed up the steps that led to the dorm. Steph was apparently not very concerned by the chase that Hervé had launched. He was busy fondling Nicolas and Rémi, still chained to their desks, as he was reading aloud the confessions Hervé had extorted from them. There was no element of surprise; Steph saw them as soon as they opened the door he was facing.

“Shit!” he said, trying to run away through the back as they had done themselves almost an hour ago. Steph didn’t reach the second of the three doors separating him from the outside. Philippe’s sturdy arms had grabbed him from behind, keeping him in a tight and unrelenting embrace.

“Now my friend,” Philippe hissed, “You’re going to find out that you chose the wrong side this weekend.”

TBC in a final chapter...

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