JACK'S BIRTHDAY BASH
It was my friend Jack's 15th birthday and my mate, Tom, and I went over to his house to help him celebrate.
We just hung out for a while and eventually got bored so we went out to a dilapidated old barn on his father's spread. We played cards for about an hour and I kicked arse so they, being bad losers, jumped me. No, trust me, I wasn't really being insufferably smug. - - - Honest!
Jack got a length of rope from somewhere and I stood no chance against both him and Tom. I soon had my hands tied in front of me and they dragged me outside to where they looped the free ends of the rope over a hook on a hoist high up on the wall. Once they had tied off the rope, I could still stand but I couldn't free the rope from the hook and I was left helpless with my arms stretched over my head.
Jack said that he didn't approve of bad language and that he thought he ought to do something about it. Tom lifted my left leg and Jack pulled off my trainer without untying it first and threw it over his shoulder. I was wriggling as much as I could until Jack hooked my right ankle to the side, leaving me hanging from my wrists. I agreed to stop struggling if he promised not to do it again.
You can probably guess what happened next; I was only glad that I hadn't been wearing that sock for too long. Jack visited the barn again and returned with a roll of silver gaffer tape. I wondered why he kept such things as rope and tape in the barn but I must admit that my boxers were getting a bit tight in the front. I just hoped that my friends would not notice.
I was 'persuaded' that it would be a good idea if I didn't resist as Tom stuffed the rolled up sports sock into my mouth and, as soon as my feet were on the ground again, Jack wrapped about four layers of tape round my head to keep it in place. I didn't give any thought at the time to the pain that ripping it off again would cause later!
So, there I was, defenceless and silenced; at least my friends couldn't do anything more to me now - - - could they? Well, my mates can always be relied upon to be creative. Tom stood right in my face, "A'righ' Sagger Boy?" and he grabbed my jeans by the sides and pulled them down below my knees leaving the front of my far from new boxer briefs on show and what they contained fairly clearly outlined. At least by then I had 'calmed down' a bit, if you take my meaning. "Enjoooy."
At least no one else was likely to see me as my two 'friends' headed off to Jack's house to enjoy some junk food and coke. I spent the next hour or so struggling fruitlessly to secure my release during which time I managed only to kick off my jeans and free my upper lip from the tape, not that it helped much.
Eventually, Jack and Tom returned grinning like lunatics and clutching an unopened coke and what looked like a pizza box. I was made to repeat what Tom said if I wanted to be untied and fed. "I pwomiff mo wepurnf if yeu umpie me mow." They seemed to accept my promise of 'no returns' if they untied me then and I was soon left shaking my arms prior to attacking the tape that was preventing me from speaking clearly. The first couple of turns didn't hurt much but they did signal the unpleasantness to come. The sock did little to suppress the volume of the yell as I bravely ripped the last layer from the hair on the back of my neck.
"Squibs?" Tom crossed his fingers. So did Jack.
"Squibs", I replied and the three of us shook hands. In truth, other than the forced hairstyling, I had quite enjoyed the experience and I was even wondering, as the three of us sat in the barn while I engulfed my share of the pizza, how I could enjoy the same experience again. It sure beat tying myself up.