Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Fictional Stories of Males tying up Males

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Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Jul 30, 2017 7:56 pm

The inspiration from this comes from “A Childhood Kidnap Fantasy” from seven years ago. I wanted to see a continuation, and then thought about writing my own. Since then, there is this rule to avoid having adults tie up children, so even with the fantasy theme I prefer to avoid that situation entirely. This makes the story more unrealistic, but I’d still like to see if I can write a coherent story like this.

Chapter 0

Since I was a little kid I’ve been interested in bondage, and during the past couple years that feeling has significantly intensified. The few times I mentioned to my parents that it might be fun to be tied up and escape they acted like they thought I was crazy, so I stopped mentioning that to them, or anybody else again years ago. I’m afraid to do anything the slightest bit risky, and I can’t bear the thought of really being trapped and caught, so all I’ve tried is very light self-bondage. Things like tying my legs and body to the desk chair in my room, but leaving my arms free so I can escape in a minute or two. I’m no good at tying my hands anyway. I did buy two sets of those toy handcuffs with a safety release, where it’s easy for the fingers of a hand to release the catch of the other link, the one around which the hand is not cuffed. Then I would cuff my feet together, tie myself to a chair, and then cuff my hands behind the back of the chair. Usually I’d face the mirror on my door, which fortunately has a lock, and pretend I couldn’t escape for as long as I could stand it. I got used to the handcuffs, and could easily sit there for an hour. Another stunt was to cuff my hands and feet in bed. I couldn’t sleep with my hands behind my back, and would take them off after several minutes and then cuff my hands in front of me, but it was still a thrill waking up to find handcuffs on.

I quickly discovered that the thrill of being tied up is greatly amplified when I’m barefoot and bare-chested. That makes me feel more vulnerable, and I like the sensation of rope against my bare skin. I would tie myself up in pants or shorts, but experimenting with just boxers proved more exhilarating. The ideal time was after I had done my homework and anything else I had to do. My parents didn’t care; they were happy that I went to bed rather early without arguing and so left me alone. They are preoccupied with their business careers and pretty much leave me alone as long as I keep up good grades and stay out of trouble. They trust me enough to leave me home alone overnight as they go on business trips; I just had to promise not to let anyone in the house.

One night when my parents weren’t around I pretended to forget to put on a clean pair of boxers, which I’ve slept in for years, after taking a shower and before tying and handcuffing myself to the desk chair. This felt so good that when my parents would be away for the night I would forget to put briefs on before handcuffing myself in bed. I clearly have gotten addicted to the thrill and warm feelings these stunts gave me.
Today my parents are out for the night, and I’ve just spent an hour facing my reflection in the mirror, tied to my chair in my room. It’s time to stop my fake struggling, and I take off the toy handcuffs of my hands with the safety release. I’ve tied the rest of me fairly well to the chair, and get a thrill out of pretending I can’t untie myself, even with my arms free and objects like scissors and a letter opener I can reach. Instead I force my hands under ropes behind my back pretending to try to untie a knot there but getting stuck. My reflection looks pathetic, but then it is much easier to pull my hands free again than to force them under the ropes. After an hour of this type of thing, I make up the fake thought, “Oh darn, I got tied up naked and can’t get loose. What am I going to do?

Well, there is something I can do. I just completed the sixth grade, but I’m supposed to do some creative writing project over the summer. There is only one idea that comes to mind. I want to write my own bondage fantasy, where I get abducted, taken away somewhere, and get tied up for long periods of time. It won’t be appropriate for the writing assignment, and it will likely be very unrealistic and probably silly, but it’s what I feel like writing. Maybe I can use some parts in my real assignment. Well, I have to get started on the assignment, so I scoot over to my desk and start writing as I am. The ropes loosen in the process and I have to prop them up again to regain the bound feeling. My fake thought process resumes: “I may as well do something useful. Maybe I’ll figure a way out of this while I’m writing.

Chapter 1

It’s a hot night at the beginning of summer, and like usual I’m wearing only my boxers in bed. It’s around midnight and I can’t sleep, so I quietly make my way downstairs to the kitchen for a snack. I’m not supposed to, and attempting to put anything else on might wake my parents, so it never occurs to me to dress, just like I’ve done hundreds of times before. I don’t need to turn on any lights to find my way anywhere in the house, and soon reach the kitchen. As I’m about to open the refrigerator, a hand clasps over my mouth from behind and I feel something poking me between the shoulder blades. An unfamiliar voice commands,

“Don’t make a sound, and hold your hands behind your back or I’ll blow your brains out.”

It feels more like a finger in my back than the barrel of a gun, so I could probably bump this guy and scream for help. However, a part of me doesn’t want to miss out on this opportunity to have my hands tied behind my back, which seems a strong possibility. With the good reason that the intruder might not be bluffing, I comply.

Then I hear the intruder whisper, “Joe, the cuffs.”

There is silence, and then, “Come on, remember your code name.”

“Oh, right … Jackie.”

So there is a second intruder. I hear rummaging through a sack for something, and then, “Got ‘em, Jackie.” I hear a clink of metal, and seconds later feel metal cuffs being snapped around my wrists. A wave of excitement surges through my body as I realize I’m handcuffed. I feel the cuffs behind my back, and find there’s no safety release like the toy handcuffs I’ve played with. These are the real deal. Since the gun or finger in my back and the hand over my mouth didn’t move, it is clear that the cuffs must have been put on by this second intruder called Joe.

“Good. Now we’re going outside, and you better keep quiet.”

The two guys grab my arms and force me out the back door, which has a cheap lock that they probably broke. We go through the back yard which abuts on an alley. I see a big car parked that must belong to my captors. A street light a hundred feet away casts more light than was inside the house, and they get a good look at me for the first time. They are both dressed in black, and surprisingly only a year or two older than me. The first one, who was called Jackie, is six inches taller than me, on the thin side and sports a tangled mop of sandy blond hair that looks like it had been combed by an egg beater. The second, Joe, was a couple inches shorter, overweight but had a strong grip. In quite a contrast he has neatly combed short brown hair. They both laugh when they see how I am dressed.

“You always run around your house in your drawers?” asks Joe.

I hadn’t thought about that, and become self-conscious. “I couldn’t sleep, and went to get something to eat, and … you didn’t give me a chance to go upstairs and dress. Can I go now?”

Jackie snorts. “I think you can manage as you are. Looks like you enjoy being handcuffed in your boxers.”

I gulp. They would have to notice that. There is no good answer, so I don’t say anything. He continues,

“So do your folks have stuff worth stealing upstairs? We didn’t find anything good downstairs.”

“No, my parents don’t believe in spending money. Like they’re too cheap for air conditioning. My mother has a little jewelry, and they have new phones, but that’s about it. They think it’s more important to save money for more important things in the future.”

“Those new phones all have trackers that would locate us in a second if we stole those. But … you say your folks have a lot of money saved up? How much?”

“I don’t know.”

“That gives me an idea. Not a sound.” He reaches in to his bag and pulls out a long, knotted piece of cloth. I’m too scared to do anything, so they easily manage to gag me with it, wrapping it several times around my mouth and head. They force me to the car, where I almost bump into an African-American boy just about my size who I didn’t notice before. He is also dressed all in black, and has a wild mass of hair similar to Jackie’s that might not ever have been combed. I figure he must be the lookout for this group, and there is yet another person in the driver’s seat, ready for a quick getaway. Once we reach the car, Jackie tears off a piece of duct tape from a big roll and wraps it several times around my ankles and shins while Joe holds me in an iron grip. The car trunk opens, Joe picks me up easily, and throws me into the trunk like a rag doll.

“We’re going for a ride, dude,” explains Jackie. I suggest you don’t use up all the oxygen by struggling. Try to keep your nose by this bullet hole.”

With that he slams the trunk door down. I am annoyed at how easily they did this, and that I was so powerless to stop it. Soon the car takes off. I wonder how much air is in the trunk. I might be able to unwind the tape around my legs, but there’s no way I can get out of the handcuffs, so it probably is best to lie still. I try to determine where we’re going. After several turns it seems like we’re on a highway for maybe half an hour. Then there’s the exit ramp, and some more roads, but I can’t tell the direction. Probably out in the country somewhere, a lot less urban than where we started. There is a lot of time to think, and I keep thinking how humiliating it is to be tied up in my boxers and unable to do anything about it. At least it is very hot in that trunk.

After about an hour of driving I feel us coming to a stop. A garage door opens, we go in, and it closes. Finally, the robbers, who are now my kidnappers, open the trunk. I inhale as much air as I can, which isn’t as fresh as I had hoped. Joe picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Then Jackie opens a door, they go downstairs, turn on a light, and set me down in a chair, making my cuffed hands go behind the back of the chair.

I’m thinking that once they leave that with some effort I can stand up, roll onto the floor, bend over backwards and undo the tape around my lower legs. Then I can run out of here. But it’s as if Jackie’s a mind reader.

“You look like an escape artist. We have to go get some things, so I’m sure you’ll understand why we have to do this.”

Jackie produces the roll of duct tape. Seeing what’s coming, I give it my best shot, and look sadly at him with my best puppy dog eyes. Gagged, handcuffed, and feet tied, this look should stop anyone from doing anything more to me.

My effort does not have the intended affect. Jackie snorts, and then tapes my thighs to the seat of the chair, again going around several times. So much for standing up. Despite one more mournful look, he then takes another piece and wraps the tape around my stomach, and then my chest, spiraling up around the back of the chair. I’m thinking, “That’s going to hurt when it comes off.” Not satisfied, he takes more tape and wraps up my arms and shoulders, and then wraps more tape around my lower legs and the front feet of the chair.

“There, that oughta hold you. We’ll be back in an hour.” He and Joe leave, and turn off the light. Well, there is no need for a blindfold.
At last I have the chance to escape, but it is hopeless. I can only wriggle a little. Expanding my chest by taking a deep breath to break the tape is utterly ineffective. All that tape has tied me very securely to this chair. I listen, but don’t hear anyone, so I’m not sure what the lookout and driver are up to. Then I hear the car driving away. I have to admit that I’m stuck there and wonder what will happen when the kidnappers return.
Last edited by skdj on Sun Sep 03, 2017 7:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby Veracity » Mon Jul 31, 2017 12:11 am

Nice start! Nicely written. I hope you continue.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby xtc » Mon Jul 31, 2017 3:59 am

Welcome back. I look forward to reading the next episode.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Aug 06, 2017 7:58 pm

Chapter 2

I sit tied to the heavy chair in my duct tape cocoon for perhaps an hour. The tape is far too strong for me to break through, so I may as well conserve my strength as I try to figure out what is going on. This is probably one of their houses, and the parents aren’t around, and they got this idea to get rich quick but I don’t think they’ll get away with it. Looking around, there are a few shapes that I can’t make out in the dark. There appear to be bars on a couple small windows near the ceiling, but it’s hard to be sure.

Eventually I hear the car return, the basement door open, the click of a light switch, and after a pause of a couple minutes someone dragging something heavy down the stairs. Several minutes later, the cloth from around my mouth and head is unwrapped. In front of me are Jackie, Joe, the black kid I think was the lookout, and a freckle-faced redhead, a couple inches taller than Jackie. He is also dressed in black and doesn’t look old enough to drive, maybe fourteen, but I don’t see any other possibility for the getaway driver. He does appear to be their leader, and speaks.

“We don’t want you peeing yourself and stinking up the house, so here’s the deal. We’ll untie you, you use the bathroom, and then we’ll tie you to the bed set up here for the rest of the night. Behave, and you get to eat in the morning. Cause any trouble, and you’ll regret it. Do we have an understanding?”


I see that the heavy object this group dragged down the stairs was a bed frame with a mattress. They then unwrap the duct tape from me and the chair, and then my lower legs. The tape is very sticky, and it takes some effort. When they get down to the last layer, it hurts as they pull it from my skin, but I am determined to act tough. Finally, Joe unlocks the handcuffs with a key.

“Now do your business and don’t try anything stupid.”

Joe moves to the bottom of the stairs, apparently in case I make a foolish run for it. I walk to the bathroom, which is small and doesn’t smell particularly nice, and has a cheap old shower that may or may not work. I do what I have to, and on my way out, figure it would be a good idea to learn the others’ names.

“Okay, I’m done … whatever your name is.”

The redhead looks at me suspiciously.

“You trying to be clever? It won’t help. I’m sure you understand why we don’t use our real names. And remember that!” he almost shouts as looks at the other three. “If you must address me, call me Mickey.”


“The names come from an ancient gang no one remembers. Enough stalling, lie down on the bed.”

So I’ll have to refer to these guys by code names, and learn the name, or code name, of the last guy, the lookout, who I’ve just noticed is carrying several pieces of rope, later. My choices are to comply, or face something I will regret. This is an extraordinarily easy decision. I cooperate, maybe too readily, by lying on my back in the center of the mattress and stretching my arms and legs out toward the corners. Each of the four of them then ties one end of a rope around a wrist or ankle, and the other end around the corresponding leg of the bed, the ropes going diagonally down the sides of the bed since the legs aren’t right at the corners. This leaves my arms and legs spread out wider than I had thought, and I imagine that I must look like an X. In the process, I notice that Mickey and Joe seem businesslike, while Jackie and Lookout have positively demonic grins on their faces. When they are done, I pull on the ropes, and can’t bend my arms or legs at all. I can’t reach the sides of the bed, in the unlikely case that doing that could somehow improve my position. I can turn and raise my head and wiggle my fingers and toes a little, but that’s it. My brain tells me that I am indeed going to spend the rest of the night tied spread-eagled to this bed. The lack of the ability to put anything else is simultaneously frightening and exciting, and it feels like my heart rate soars to 200 beats per minute.

“Are you going to cover me with a sheet?” I asked.

“Why should we go to the trouble?” Joe sneers. “It’s plenty warm down here. And besides, it looks like you don’t mind this at all.”

“Not that again,” I think, though Joe isn’t really wrong. Wanting to say something, I answer, “I always sleep under a sheet.”

“We have to do this first.” Mickey gets up on a chair near the foot of the bed as if to get a better angle, and I hear the click of a camera.

“What did you do that for?”

“It’s for the ransom. When you hold someone ransom, you have to prove that he’s alive. We’re sending this picture to your folks for proof. What do you think of it?”

He holds the camera in front of my face so I can see the picture he just took. It should have made me wince, but instead I can’t help but be fascinated and amused by it. Unfortunately I can’t stop a giggle. When I regain control of myself, I answer, “It’s fine,” just to get this over with.

“All right then. Now what’s their e-mail address?”

I tell him. It should be easy to track e-mail messages. These guys don’t seem like pros, and eventually they’ll get caught.

“Now we have to figure out much to ransom you for. How much do you think they’d pay for you?”

I don’t have an answer and don’t say anything. The gang huddles and Mickey comes back with “You live in a nice neighborhood, and you said your folks are cheap, so they must have a lot of money saved up. So how does fifty thousand sound?”

It sounds like a lot, but I have no idea. “I guess that’s okay.”

“Alright. We’ll send the message in a little while with instructions on where to send the dough. Once we have it we’ll take you back and drop you off a mile from your house.”

“Can I have something else to wear besides my boxers?”

Joe pipes up. “We could give you the handcuffs as a souvenir.”

“I meant something else.”

“Like a gag?” offers Jackie.

This isn’t going in the direction I want, but the thought of walking the streets handcuffed and gagged is kind of amusing. I try to get serious. “Never mind, I’ll manage. Now can I please have a sheet?”

“But then it would be hard to make sure you can’t escape.”

I don’t understand what Jackie means until he reveals a feather duster. I gulp. “I promise I can’t escape. You don’t need to tickle me.”

“Of course we do.” Lookout finally says something. “The rule says that any boy who gets tied up with no shirt and shoes has to be tickled.”

Before I can question the rule or ask if there is one for girls, Jackie starts tickling me with the feather duster. First he goes after my feet, which immediately makes me giggle. My legs aren’t so ticklish, though when the duster goes over my knees I erupt in another mild bout of laughter. But when he makes circles around my bellybutton I go into hysterics. He pauses to let me catch my breath, and then resumes brushing the duster lightly across my stomach. I try to move, and can only bounce some and move slightly. Jackie drags the feathers all over my upper body, and finds that my sides, nipples, and armpits are all very ticklish as well as my throat. He keeps tickling me for probably two minutes although it feels like much longer, stopping when I am gasping for breath. Fortunately, I notice I have a little more freedom of movement. Unfortunately, Mickey inspects all the knots. He announces,

“The knots on this guy’s hands and feet are good, but the knots around the legs of the beds are all a bit loose. We have to fix that.”

The rest of the gang sees what Mickey is talking about, and I feel the ropes tighten. At least they manage not to make them too tight around my wrists and ankles. I think I’m set for the night when Lookout has to say, “We’d better make sure the new knots are good.”

“I’m sure they are … HA HA HA!”

I can’t say that I’m surprised my effort at avoiding another tickle attack wasn’t successful. This time Lookout has taken the feather duster and gives me just about the same treatment Jackie did. This time all the knots hold and I can tell that I’m bound securely to the bed.

Joe remarks, “Nice job guys. If that dude couldn’t break out of these ropes when he was being tickled, he sure won’t be able to now. Now we can all go get some sleep.”

“Okay, that’s good,” agrees Mickey. To me, he says “We’re too far away from anyone else to hear you, but if you make any noise you’ll spend the rest of the night with a gag in your mouth. Understand?”

I whisper yes. I guess I’m not going to get a sheet to cover me tonight.

The group and goes upstairs and turns off the light. I hear the door close and the click of a lock, and I am left alone in the dark again, only this time tied spread-eagled to a bed. Being taped to the chair was more comfortable, but maybe this is better for sleeping. Wiggling my fingers and toes helps.

It’s hard to sleep in this position, but considering everything, this really wasn’t so bad. I got my adventure, one I would never would have had any other way, and by tomorrow my parents will have paid the ransom and I’ll be returned. It might be embarrassing, but that doesn’t seem like a big deal now. I try to figure out how we’ll catch these guys and get the money back, but it must be around two a. m. by now and I am so exhausted that despite my position I do drift off to sleep.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby bondagefreak » Sun Aug 06, 2017 9:48 pm

Good job!
Enjoying this so far. The pacing is good.

Keep writing, you have me intrigued.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby CMacleanSK » Sun Aug 06, 2017 11:44 pm

Hot stuff! Keep it up
I'm always looking for people to talk to and interact with. Just be warned that if you're gonna tie me up, you better gag me. MMMMPH!!

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby Finn4323 » Mon Aug 07, 2017 5:18 am

Let's hope that after the ransom is paid and you're freed that these guys come back A LOT and tie and tickle you for very long periods of time

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Aug 13, 2017 7:57 pm

Chapter 3

Something strange is going on when I wake up. Usually I need to stretch, but it seems that I’m already stretching. Actually, it’s more like I can’t stop stretching. Or is it that I can’t un-stretch? Then I realize I’m tied spread-eagled to a bed and panic, trying to break free. Half a minute later I remember I got in this position, and calm down. It is a thrill waking up like that. Now, I’m more hungry than anything else. I never did get that late-night snack last night.

I consider calling out, but decide against it for several reasons. My abductors warned me about making noise, and I don’t need to be gagged or tickled again. At least not so soon after the last time. Since I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, that won’t be a problem for at least an hour, I guess. But I have to admit the most compelling reason is that – it feels good! Clenching my fingers and toes to increases circulation in my limbs. I yawn, and just lie there, content to wait and see what happens. I’ve lost track of time, but I think it’s late morning.

Around half an hour later Mickey and Joe come downstairs in well-worn t-shirts and shorts. Like before, Mickey does most of the talking, but he doesn’t sound as menacing as before. “Good morning. Did you sleep good?”

I had sort of dozed off again. “Uh, Mickey? Oh, it felt weird at first, but I guess I got used to it and slept alright.”

“Good. Your old man got our message. He said he has to go to the bank to make the arrangements, and will call back in the afternoon. So we’ll have to keep you tied up until then.”

The part about getting the message is a relief. “Okay, I understand.”

“Now here’s the deal. We’ll untie you, you can use the bathroom and wash up, and then go sit in the chair. We’ll tie your legs and body to it, but leave your arms free so you can eat. I don’t want to have to feed you like a baby. Do anything wrong, and you can starve. Is it a deal?”

It’s not as if I have any bargaining power in my position, and I don’t want to mess anything up now. “It’s a deal.”

They untie me from the bed, I follow the instructions exactly and then Joe starts to tie me to the indicated chair. Then he throws me the long rope and orders, “Hey, you do it. And make a good job of it.”

This is unexpected, but I do as ordered. I tie my legs and body to the chair rather tightly, figuring Joe will make it worse if I don’t. If necessary, I’ll be able to free myself in a couple minutes since my arms are free. I take the opportunity to rub my wrists, which aren’t as sore as I feared. Fortunately I didn’t struggle after they left me last night.

“See that, Mickey?” asks Joe. “He did do a good job.” Then to me, “Looks like you’ve had a lot of practice doing this.”

He’s right, but I don’t want to admit this. At that moment my stomach growls, reminding everyone that I’m hungry.

Mickey goes upstairs and comes back down with a box of cereal, a bowl and spoon, and a carton of milk, and sets them roughly on the table. I was half expecting bread and water, so I’m not complaining. Good thing I’m not lactose intolerant.

“It feels kind of funny eating breakfast like this.”

“Wanna see how it feels to starve like this?” asks Joe.

“No, Joe, this is fine.”

Mickey and Joe leave, and I devour the half-full box of cereal. I was hungrier than I realized. When I’m done, it occurs to me that I have a chance to escape, but I bet one of them is waiting at the top of the stairs to see if I try. It’s fine just sitting here like this, so I’ll keep up my good behavior.

A half hour later they all come down to the basement, and seem to be in a cheerful mood. Jackie and Lookout, both still with wild hair, have also ditched the black outfits for t-shirts and shorts, although theirs are in worse condition that the other two, with the shirts have tears and holes in them. Maybe they’ll use the ransom money to buy good clothes.

Since they look to be a good mood, I figure if I act friendly, they may go easy on me. “Good morning Jackie and … I never got your name.”

“That’s because I ain’t got one,” declares Lookout.

Jackie offers, “That’s a reason we use code names. His is “Farina.”

That’s an unusual name, but I’m not commenting on that. Farina gives Jackie a shove, and Jackie responds in kind, but the shoves are more playful than angry.

“Good morning, Farina.”

He stares at me, and then huddles with the rest of the gang. They apparently make a decision, and then Farina tells me,

“Good morning. Let’s see you untie yourself from that chair. Go wash up, and then come back here.”

It takes me a couple minutes to get the knot loose, and the boys snicker at my efforts. But I succeed, take the chance to wash up, and return. Joe has positioned himself at the foot of the stairs, blocking any foolish escape attempt on my part, but I have no intention of trying.

“So what are we going to do now?”

Jackie proclaims, “We used a lot of duct tape last night, so we got this idea for a game. Sit in that chair, and we’ll see how many coils of duct tape it takes to hold you. That way we won’t have to waste so much.”

I’m sure that I don’t have a choice, so I say, “Okay, sounds like fun.”

I sit in the chair he indicated, a solid wooden one with arms and vertical slats in the back. I put my arms on the armrests, and Jackie wraps one loop of duct tape around each wrist and an arm of the chair, while Farina does the same for each ankle and a chair leg. I twist my wrists and ankles, and break free rather easily.

“That was fun!” I exclaim.

“Good. Now let’s see you try two coils.” Jackie is grinning.

It is a lot more than twice as hard to break through two loops. I twist and squirm and bounce on the chair, and in a couple minutes notice the duct tape on my wrists start to tear. Encouraged, I keep at it and in another couple minutes manage to break the tape on my wrists. I then reach down to unwrap my ankles. I raise my arms in triumph. This was a lot of fun, and there is a great feeling of accomplishment.


“Very good. Now we’ll try three.”

Stopping at two would have been fine with me, but this is not unexpected and now I get an ominous feeling. I am disappointed but not too surprised when I can’t break loose after fifteen minutes of hard struggling. Panting, I admit that I can’t get loose.

“Looks like three is enough to hold you,” remarks Jackie.

“He could be faking,” notes Farina. “Let’s make sure.”

I could kick myself for not figuring out what he meant until a second later when I see him holding the feather duster. Actually, I’m bound too well to kick anything, but more importantly I determine there is a 100 percent chance he’s going to tickle me no matter what I say.

There is little satisfaction in being right. Farina promptly tickles my vulnerable stomach. Before I can say anything, I’m howling in laughter. I try in vain to protect my belly and my sides with my hands. My armpits aren’t as vulnerable as before, but he makes up for it by tickling my feet, which are several inches off the floor. This feels like it goes on longer than before, probably three or four minutes, by which time I’m gasping for breath. He examines the tape binding my wrists to the arms of the chair.

“Hmm, this tape is cracked a little. Another few minutes of tickling and you might have broken loose. We better fix that.”

He and Jackie add another revolution of tape around my ankles and wrists, and it appears this game is over.

“We got stuff to do,” announces Mickey, and they all leave me alone.

I have a mixture of emotions. It is frustrating and humiliating not to be able to break loose. Then again, if I could break free of this, they would have just added more tape until I couldn’t. But this is also exciting, and there is a thrill in realizing my kidnappers can come back at any time and tickle me some more. Or something worse if I don’t behave.

I get a lot of time to think. The sunlight through the barred windows reveals what I couldn’t see last night. The basement is huge, so this must be a pretty big house. Now I can see a washer and dryer, and a furnace which isn’t needed in this heat, but more interesting is a universal weight machine in a far corner with a barbell and some dumbbells on the floor nearby. That’s what I need – equipment to work out on and get bigger muscles.

This does get boring after a while. It’s hard to tell time but it feels like four hours when the foursome comes back down.

“No news yet,” announces Mickey.

Jackie and Farina unwrap the tape around my wrists, and in a show of toughness I don’t make a sound when the last layer is pulled off. Joe has brought me lunch.

“I hope you like Spaghetti-O’s,” he comments.

Surely the alternative is nothing, so I say, “Thank you, that’s good.”

They let me eat, then unwrap my ankles and let me go to the bathroom, and then I know what’s coming up.

“Are we going to play that game again?”

“If you want to,” responds Jackie in a poor attempt to disguise that was what was on his mind all along. “Let’s make it a little different.”

Farina tapes my ankles to the chair legs again, but this time my legs are bent to the outside instead of directly in front, making it a bit more uncomfortable. Jackie tapes my wrists to the slats behind my back, near the seat so it isn’t too bad an angle. I suppose if I had misbehaved my hands would be tied higher against my back.

The results are very similar. I break through a single coil of tape easily, two with difficulty, and fail at three.

“It’s my turn.” Jackie grabs the feather duster and of course tickles my defenseless body. I resist laughing out loud for a few seconds, and then break down completely. This goes on for five minutes I guess; it seems like each time it goes on for longer. This time I don’t make any progress in loosening the tape, and they just leave me as I try to regain my breath.

The hours pass by, and maybe it’s three hours later when the quartet returns.

“Hey,” Mickey announces holding a phone, “we just got the call from your folks about the ransom. They want to make sure you’re alive before they send the money.”

It’s about time; I was really getting bored. He puts the phone on speaker and I hear my father.

“Son, are you all right?”

“I’m okay. These guys just kept me tied up all the time. Well, almost. They let me go to the bathroom, but I’ve been tied to this chair the rest of the time, even when they let me eat.”

“Okay then, so you’re not hurt?”

“No. It just got pretty boring today.”

“Well, I’m proud of you for holding up so well.”

Enough of this talk, it’s time to get to the main purpose of the call.

“So, you got the ransom money?”
Last edited by skdj on Sun Aug 27, 2017 7:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby Bondage in Paris » Mon Aug 14, 2017 8:29 am

Thank you for this great fiction.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Aug 20, 2017 7:37 pm

Chapter 4

“Son, I know we never discussed our finances with you, but the fact is we don’t have fifty thousand dollars in accounts that we can withdraw from immediately.”

I gulp, and try to find the best possible scenario at this point. “I can manage another day here if I have to.”

“It’s going to take a lot longer than that. What I can do is send nine thousand to the account in the directions we got. This is being wired to some foreign bank, and my understanding is that if we try to trace where it goes after that, something unfortunate will happen to you. Don’t worry, we won’t try to track the money, and then I’ll send the rest of it as soon as I can.”

“How long will that take?”

“There are various issues involved, and I don’t want to do anything that will attract attention, so my best guess is a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?!”

“Yes, now are you kidnappers there?”

Mickey speaks for them. “Yeah.”

“You heard what I just said. I’m sending you all the money I can at the moment. Now will it be okay if keep my son until the entire ransom is paid? Just don’t hurt him. We want to talk to him every day.”

“We need to discuss this.”

The gang moves away and forms a huddle. A minute later they come back.

“We’ll need an extra hundred a week to feed your son.”

“And can you throw in another hundred for some clothes?” I blurt out since I have the chance.

There is more silence on the phone, and then my father’s voice is heard.

“The hundred a week to feed you is fair, since we would have fed you anyway, but you’re not going anywhere, so what do you need more clothes for?”

That response leaves me speechless.

My mother comes on the phone. “Honey, do whatever these guys say. It’s your best chance not to get hurt.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing. They tie me to a bed to sleep, and I’m tied to a chair the rest of the day.”

“Oh dear. You kidnappers, could you please not tie my boy up the same way every time?”

“Sure, we can do that.”

I guess that was a nice thought by my mother, but I’m not sure these guys can be trusted.

“One more thing,” she continues. “Can you get him a toothbrush, and make sure he eats right, lots of fruit and vegetables? I don’t want him eating nothing but junk food for several weeks.”

No Mom, it was a few weeks, not several,” I think, while Joe, Jackie, and Farina are laughing at the request.

“Sure, Ma’am,” Mickey replies.

“Good.” There is a pause, and then “I guess that’s all for now. We’ll talk tomorrow, and I love you, Dear.”

Does she have to embarrass me like that? “Yeah, I love you. Good-bye.”

I sit there in shock for a minute, and conclude that this doesn’t make sense.

“You know they can trace that phone call here.”

Mickey has an answer. “There are ways to make it look like the call comes from a different number. And if they try to trace it we’ll know about it.”

I need to come up with something else. “How can you keep me here for weeks? What happens when whoever’s house this is parents come home?”

The gang huddles to discuss what they can tell me. Then Mickey answers,

“That ain’t going to happen. This is my uncle’s house.”

“Then what happens when your uncle comes home?”

“He has other living arrangements for the next five years.”

I try to figure out what that means, and then come up with one possible conclusion. “You mean he’s in jail? What for?”

“Overdue library books.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that and don’t want to know the reason. I won’t question Mickey again on that. “Oh, too bad, I know there are some real mean librarians.”

Changing the subject must be a good idea. “What about the rest of you? Don’t you have homes you have to go to?”

“This is our home,” answers Joe. “We’re runaways from the foster care system, which has been very bad for us.”

“Yeah, I’ve had lots of foster families, and they were all terrible,” adds Jackie. “Never gave me or let me do anything, and beat me if I asked for anything.”

“Me too,” says Farina. “I got beat all the time for no reason.”

“Then when my uncle got sent up, I asked these guys to stay here,” explains Mickey. “Together we make this a much better place than any of our foster homes. We just needed money.”

Sounds like they’re trying to get my sympathy. Most foster homes aren’t that bad, but you do hear some awful stories from time to time. So these guys met through the foster care system, and got screwed by it, if they’re telling the truth. Of course that doesn’t excuse their kidnapping me, but it must be better to go along with them for now. Telling them they’re no good would only make things worse for me, so I just say, “That’s tough.”

Mickey had slipped away for a minute, and then comes back to announce, “We got the nine thousand! At least it’s a good start, and we can go shopping.”

“What are you going to get?”

“Wait, it’s the person who’s tied up who’s supposed to be interrogated, not the other way around!” comments Joe. “You’ll find out when it’s the right time.”

They all leave, and I can hear the car start and drive away. Once again, I am left alone tied to the chair and can’t do anything about it. I can only wonder how long I’ll really be here.

Around an hour later they return.

“We got you a Happy Meal.” announces Joe. “It’s got French fries, which are vegetables, and apple pie which is a fruit.”

It could have been a lot worse.

“And a toothbrush and some toothpaste,” adds Farina.

There is something about the way he said that which makes me suspicious. He is grinning too much.

They untape me from the chair to let me use the bathroom and eat in peace. While I’m eating I’m sure there’s someone at the top of the stairs preventing a futile escape. I get to brush my teeth and go sit on the bed. It’s dark out and I know what’s coming up soon. Indeed, a few minutes later they come down, so I flop and stretch out on the bed.

“Wait a minute,” Mickey orders. “We promised his mommy we’d tie him up in different ways. Tie his hands together to the top and his feet to the bottom.”

Jackie and Farina have no problem with this new order. Farina ties my hands together over my head, and then ties the other end of the rope to the frame at the head of the bed. Jackie does the same to my feet, tying the other rope end to the frame at the foot. While I’m stretched out in a line, I can rock a little from side to side. Also I’m short enough so that neither my hands or feet reach the edge of the mattress, so while the ropes press into the mattress, there is some slack. It actually feels better than being spread-eagled again, and maybe this will make me taller. However, and much more significantly, this position still leaves all my ticklish spots exposed.

“How does that feel?” ask Mickey.

I don’t think there’s a response that will avoid the inevitable, but I may as well try. “Okay. Thanks for tying me up a different way this time.”

When I turn my head to face Mickey I see Jackie beside him with the devilish look on his face. Of course he’s holding the feather duster. I brace myself, but it does little good. Within seconds I’m laughing like crazy. Rocking from side to side doesn’t help, and I feel I’m about to pass out when the tickling stops. It was probably only a couple minutes. Maybe they’ve become more efficient at driving my out of my mind. I’m too disoriented to think clearly, and can only lie there while my pulse and breathing rates slowly settle down.

Mickey asks, “So Joe, did those two do a good job with the knots this time?”

I’ve settled down enough to predict Joe’s answer with certainty.

“No, you can see these knots on the frame are too loose, and there was too much slack. Jackie and Farina better try again.”

Jackie and Farina don’t seem terribly disappointed. I suspect that Farina didn’t do a great job on purpose so he would get a chance to tickle me. I feel the ropes tighten so that there’s less slack. As expected, the next thing I see is Farina’s face with a devilish look to match Jackie’s.
However, instead of the duster Farina is holding my toothbrush.

“What are you doing with my toothbrush?”

“Come on, didn’t you notice it’s electric?”

“No, I never had one. My folks are too cheap to buy those.”

“Well, let’s see if this tickles better than those feathers.”

That’s gross,” I think. “Need to wash that out good every time.”

And then Farina turns on the electric toothbrush and tickles me to the edge of passing out. I’m laughing too hard to determine whether the toothbrush or feather duster is more insidious. Still, I’m afraid that last bit of tickling makes me have a little accident, but no one notices and I am fading into unconsciousness as I hear Mickey say,

“That’s good enough. Let’s go.”
Last edited by skdj on Sun Aug 27, 2017 7:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Aug 27, 2017 7:49 pm

Chapter 5

When I wake up, I realize that the tickling did indeed cause me to have a little accident. The gang comes downstairs, and now notices it.

“Eww!” comments Joe. “What happened?”

“You tickled me too much last night!” I exclaim.

Mickey takes charge. “Hurry, untie him, and get a paper bag for those shorts.” Then to me, “Go to the bathroom, get rid of those, take a shower, and put on a towel till we find something for you to wear.”

Farina and Joe hurriedly untie me, and as they finish Jackie comes back from upstairs with a small paper bag which he hands me. I can’t think of doing anything other than Mickey’s orders, so I enter the bathroom, close the door, put my boxers in the bag, open the door just enough to put the bag outside, and close the door again. The shower in there does work, and it feels good. I’m afraid to take too long, so after about ten minutes I dry off, put the towel around my waist, and step out, wondering what they got me to wear. I don’t relish the thought of wearing any of their clothes, and I have to believe none of them are eager to share any of theirs.

Their solution to this problem is not one I anticipated. Jackie and Farina are there with a piece of string a yard long and an old pillowcase.

“Here, you can wear this,” beams Farina.

“What?” I don’t understand.

“Make a loincloth out of this,” explains Jackie. “Tie the string around your waist, and thread the cloth over the string in front and back.”

Did I just enter a Tarzan movie?

They hand me the pieces as I stand there dumbfounded. Several seconds later I regain my composure. I hold the pillowcase, and say, “This isn’t long enough.”

Jackie and Farina consult, and then Farina races off and returns with a scissors. “Go in there and cut it to make it fit.”

This is certainly a new experience. What did Tarzan’s loincloth look like? Or any of the natives in those movies? I go back in the bathroom and try to figure out the best way to do this. I tie the string too tightly around my waist at first, and figure out it’s better to leave enough room for the cloth to go around the string in front and back. After trying some possibilities, the end result resembles two overlapping diamonds, so the narrow part, a foot across, goes under my crotch, and the widest parts around the string, trying to cover my hips. It narrows to points in the front and back, and I think that tying those ends together might make this think more stable. I feel ridiculous, but can manage this for a few hours. I exit the bathroom.

“Fine, I’ll wear this until my shorts are washed and dried.”

Jackie has other news for me. “Actually, those were so nasty we threw them in the garbage.”

“But … but these will get nasty in a day. What then?”

Farina has the answer. “You can make another loincloth. Wear one while the other is being washed and dried.”

“Why don’t you just buy me a couple pairs of shorts?”

“Because that would cost money, and this doesn’t. We have more sheets we aren’t using.”

Mickey comes down with my breakfast, and I’m sure it’s best to eat while I have the opportunity. The gang goes upstairs, presumably to eat their own breakfast, and comes down half an hour later. Mickey announces, “Okay, you can wash up and brush your teeth, and then sit in that chair.”

I don’t want to be tied to a chair all day again. After I’m through in the bathroom, I ask, “Can’t you do something other than keep me tied to a chair all day again? Or the bed?”

Mickey points out, “Remember your mommy said you should do everything we say.”

“She also asked you not to tie me up the same way every time, and you agreed.”

Finally I get a good point in.

“He’s right,” agreed Joe. “What should we do instead? Hogtie him?”

“Any other possibilities?”

“I know,” interjects Farina. “We could shackle him to the wall.”

“That’s a good idea!” agrees Jackie. “Let’s do it.”

“That’s a lot of work,” objects Mickey.

“It will be good practice for our job skills,” points out Joe.

Mickey looks at me. “What do you say?”

There may be something wrong with my brain, but the prospect of being shackled to the wall is too enticing not to pursue.

“Do you really have shackles?”

“No, but I’m sure we can make something like them out of handcuffs. So what will it be? You help us set this up, or we’ll just tie you to the chair again.”

Another easy decision. “I’ll help you chain me to the wall.”

“How are we going to do this?” asks Joe.

“What do you mean?” responds Mickey.

“We can might it so his arms are straight up, or up at the sides, with his elbows bent at right angles.”

“Which do you prefer?” Mickey asks of me.

Not expecting this, I hesitate, trying to picture the possibilities. I am spared the decision when Farina suggests to me, “I know, we’ll set it up both ways and see which you like better.”

Farina can be so helpful sometimes.


Either way is better than being tied to a chair all day again, so I won’t worry now about which way of being chained up is better. Joe gets a box with assorted hardware parts. I think the gang takes apart some handcuffs, leaving individual links. They do something to the links like put tape on them so they won’t be so sharp and cut into my hands. Then they have me stand against a wall to take measurements. I even help out sometimes by holding metal pieces in place while they drill things into the wall. The scene normally wouldn’t make any sense: here am I in a loincloth among guys dressed in regular t-shirts and shorts, and I’m doing all I can to get chained to the wall. Yet my actions seem to be exactly what I should be doing under the circumstances. In about an hour Joe announces that he thinks they’re ready. I see six individual handcuff links mounted perpendicular to the wall. Joe tugs on them to prove they’re solidly attached.

Mickey orders, “Stand here, and hold your hands straight up.”

I get on my tiptoes a little to make it work, and Jackie closes the links around my wrists. I settle down, with my heels barely touching the ground. A surge of electricity goes through my body. Jackie then says,

“Now move your feet to those cuffs near the floor.”

My feet are currently close together, between cuffs set into the wall near the floor.

“Uh, since this is my first time being chained to a wall, I think just my hands are enough. My feet can be shackled next time.”

“I think you’re ready for your feet now.”

Farina is way ahead on this and grabs one of my ankle, moves it into position, and snaps the cuff on. There isn’t much I can do about this. I could kick him with my other foot, but am quite sure only bad things could come of that. Besides, with one foot already secured, it wouldn’t feel right without the other. My thoughts don’t matter, because he is eager to get my other foot locked up, and does so in a few seconds.

I gasp as the thrilling sensation increases a lot. The position of the lower cuffs forces my heels off the ground a few millimeters, and my spine has to stretch to get my heels back on the ground.

“I told you that you were ready for this,” claims Jackie. “Good thing you tied your loincloth on tight enough.”

Oh, that again. But the remark doesn’t concern me as I’m lost in the thrill of being in this new position. I barely hear Mickey state,

“Well, we’ve got other stuff to do. See you later.”

They leave, and I can hear the garage door open, the car start and go away, and the garage door close.

So there I am, totally stretched out with my hands over my shoulders, chained to the wall in nothing but my flimsy loincloth. I can get a little bit up on my tiptoes, but can’t hold it for long. The most comfortable position is to hold still, so I do. My shoulder blades, butt, and calves touch the wall and I can’t move away at all. It’s hard to describe, but I decide that this feels so … right! This is what I deserve for my bondage thoughts, and I have the perfect attire for the experience.

Well, I have lots of time to think. I think about the Jackie’s comment about my loincloth, and what would have happened if I had tied the string loosely, like with just an overhand knot. Well, it’s pretty clear what would happen. Maybe sometime in the future if I ever found someone I could completely trust I could try that, but definitely not these guys. I make a mental note to be sure to tie my waistband carefully every time I’m about to be tied up while I’m here.

An hour later I’m still chained up, helpless and alone. New thoughts come to mind. If the gang never comes back I’m going to die an agonizing death. At least they wouldn’t get the 41,000 dollars left of the ransom. I picture those images of skeletons chained to the walls of a pirate ship, and wonder if I’ll make a good-looking skeleton. Then I remember that they might never have come back yesterday. I decide to relax which is possible the way I am stretched out. All that happens when I relax is that my head droops forward.

Still, it is with relief when I hear the car return after another half hour. A minute later Farina comes downstairs with a concerned look on his face, which turns into relief when he sees me the way I was left. I figure that he was concerned about my well-being, so I say,

“I can handle this no problem.”

Farina scowls. “We weren’t worried that you can handle that. We forgot to make sure you can’t get loose.”

I had forgotten about the test to make sure I couldn’t escape because it was clear to me that I couldn’t. Farina’s face turns into the more familiar grin when he locates the feather duster which was left nearby. I’m sure it’s hopeless, but it feels better to try.

“I promise I can’t get loose. You all chained me up real good, see …. ah HA HA HA!”

Farina starts tickling the taut skin over my stomach, and within seconds I’m laughing uncontrollably again. He doesn’t go after my feet on the floor, but all my other ticklish spots are easily attacked. This probably goes on for two minutes when the others come downstairs.

“How’s it going,” asks Joe.

“Fine,” answers Farina. “You did a great job with this.”

“Aw, you all helped.”

I can’t speak as I’m still trying to catch my breath. I hear Mickey say,

“Good, I see that those cuffs will hold you. They’ll keep you nice and safe and out of the way for a while longer.”

I recover enough to say, “Yes, thank you for being so concerned about me.”

“Well, as I said before, we need to keep you in good shape for the ransom.”

They go upstairs to do something, and leave me chained to the wall. I wiggle my fingers and toes as I think, “This is so much better than being tied to that chair!

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby xtc » Mon Aug 28, 2017 2:37 am

Yes, it's surprising how long a loincloth has to be, isn't it?
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

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Reply on capter 5: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby HB54 » Wed Aug 30, 2017 9:30 pm

I'm curious if they have enough different ways to tie you up when they need a new way each night and another new way every day. In how many weeks do they manage this?

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Fri Sep 01, 2017 7:59 pm

It doesn't have to be something different every day; it's just that several days are supposed to pass before a tie is repeated. Telling how many weeks this will last would be giving too much away.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Sep 03, 2017 7:55 pm

Chapter 6

After an hour and a half, Jackie comes down and unlocks the cuffs around my ankles. For some reason, I thought he would unlock my wrists next, but he simply turns and goes away. I suppose I should be grateful for being able to move and raise my legs one at a time now, but I’m irritated that he fooled me into thinking it was time to be released. Having no choice, I just stand there and take it.

He leaves me alone and I get another hour to experience being shackled to the wall with my hands high over my head. It occurs to me that this is better than having only my hands freed, as I can still sort of relax this way, but with only my feet shackled to the wall I’d have to worry about keeping my balance. In any case I can endure this. I want to look tough in front of these guys.

Another hour later Jackie comes down again with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and some water, puts it on a table, and then comes over to unlock the cuffs around my hands. I get to eat, but can’t help but ask, “Why did you only unchain my feet before?”

Jackie just smiles and doesn’t answer.

When I finish my lunch and bathroom break, what comes next is predictable. When the gang comes downstairs, they don’t have to say anything. I just go and stand with my back to the wall, place my feet in front of the open cuffs near the floor, and hold my hands in front of the unused cuffs so that my upper arms are straight out to the sides, my elbows bent at right angles, and my forearms straight up.

Playing along with the silent act, Jackie and Farina quickly clamp the cuffs around my hands and feet, locking me against the wall for the next few hours. They look at me for a few minutes, and then I can’t help but blurt out,

“So aren’t you going to tickle me?!”

They hesitate for a while, and then Farina grins, “Maybe a little later. We have to set up something first.”

They go upstairs and leave me chained to the wall again, and again it feels pretty good. My motion is more limited than I thought it would be, as I can barely move my elbows away from the wall. In this position, I can flex my puny biceps, something I couldn’t do before. I really need to get bigger muscles soon. It was easier to relax with my arms straight up but all things considered I much rather be chained the two different ways than the same way both times. This has really hasn’t been such a bad day so far.

The only thing that’s bugging me is knowing I’m going to be tickled some time. I wish they would have gotten it over with. Anyway, for the next hour I just stand there, tensing my muscles from time to time.

The gang eventually comes down, but to my surprise, with a big laptop computer. They set it up in front of me, and Mickey clicks some keys until it looks like he’s ready for something.

“Are you going to tell me what that’s for?” I ask.

“Yes. We agreed to let your parents see you every day, and we set up a Skype connection. You’re on in three minutes.”

“What?” My reaction it to try to break loose because I don’t want my parents to see me chained to the wall in a loincloth, but of course that doesn’t work. “You said they could talk to me, not see me.”

“But this way they can see you’re all right while we do mean business.”

“Don’t look so upset,” says Farina.

“I know how to fix that,” responds Jackie.

Now to my horror I see Jackie holding my electric toothbrush. This was clearly planned. There is nothing to do but brace myself, but within seconds I am laughing hysterically again as all my ticklish spots except my feet are attacked. This must go on for two minutes, and then it’s over, but I’m still laughing as I try to recover. Then the Skype connection is made, and there are my parents in our house. I just manage to stop laughing but I think I’m still smiling, and I don’t want my parents to think that I’m enjoying the experience.

“Can you see us?” asks my mother.

Lying is pointless. “Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’ve been chained to this wall most of the day!”

“But are you hurt?”

“Well, no but …” I can’t think of what to say.

“What is that you’re wearing?”

“This is what happened when you wouldn’t send money for clothes! My shorts got ruined, and I had to make a loincloth out of a piece of string and an old pillowcase. Can’t you please send money for clothes?”

My father speaks up. “This is costing us a lot, and this doesn’t change the situation.”

My mother adds, “You look good in that loincloth, Dear.”

That gets some snickers from the gang. Then Mickey points out, “You can see there isn’t a mark on him. And he’ll tell you there’s nothing on his back either.”

“Is that right?”

Again, lying wouldn’t help, so I answer “Yes, they haven’t hit me or anything. Just leave me tied up or shackled today for a change of pace.”
“I just realized, that looks good for your posture.”

My father agrees. “Yes, maybe we should have said something, but you’ve been slouching a little lately. Keep your back straight and head up.”

Whose side are they on? I can only come up with, “So I should be shackled to the wall every day?”

“No, of course not; we agreed on changing things up every day. Does once a week sound reasonable?”

Actually, it sounds perfect but can’t sound too enthusiastic. “Uh, yeah.”

Mickey pipes in “That works for us. We can come up with lots of different things in a week.”

This Skype session is going better than I thought it would. Then Farina holds my toothbrush in front of the camera while staying out of view. “Look, we got him a toothbrush like we said we would.”

“Oh good,” says my mother.

I don’t want to admit what it was most recently used for, so I open my mouth with an artificial smile that shows my teeth. “Yeah, my teeth are fine.”

My father then says, “Good. I made some financial transactions, and can send 2,100 dollars tomorrow and a few thousand next Monday. Glad to see everything is going well. Good-bye now.”

“Good-bye,” adds my mother. “Stay strong.”

“Uh, good-bye.”

Mickey ends the connection, and I’m glad that’s over with. Joe takes the computer, and they all go upstairs. It’s as if they forgot about me, but that isn’t so bad. I feel like being left alone now. What did my dad say? Everything is going well now? I’m going to remain here shackled to the wall for some more hours, and it will happen again a week from now. Probably several more weeks, too. Well, there’s the tickling and the ransom money, but other than those details, most things are going as well as could be expected in these circumstances.

Accepting my fate, I stand there peacefully for two more hours, tensing the muscles I can from time to time. Then Joe comes down and unlocks my feet. Joe is more businesslike and doesn’t seem as devious as Jackie and Farina and I figure I might get more information out of him, so I ask,
“Why are you guys just unchaining my feet?”

Joe thinks for a moment and replies, “You’ve been behaving well and we figured we might have been too hard on you, so we decided to give you a break. Also so you could be tied up different ways. Shackled hand and foot counts as different from just your hands.”

“Oh.” Once again, I think it’s best to go along meekly. “Thank you for being so thoughtful.”

Joe decides to add something. “Exercise, move your legs while you can. You might not be able to do that much tomorrow.”

“Why? What’s going to happen tomorrow?”

Now Joe smiles and says, “I can’t tell you that.”

I guess that if I keep asking my feet will get chained again, so I don’t press the issue. Joe leaves me chained by my hands to the wall, and I move my legs around while I can. I can’t help but wonder what’s in store for me tomorrow, and maybe I would have been better off if I hadn’t asked.
It’s probably close to two hours when the gang returns.

“How are you doing?” asks Mickey.

“Fine. Thank you for improving my posture.”

“You’re welcome. It’s dinnertime. Here, this has some meat, vegetables, and fruit in it.”

Mickey sets the frozen dinner, apparently just microwaved, down on a table while Joe frees my hands. They leave me to eat and a while later Jackie and Farina come down with an old sheet, another piece of string, and the scissors from before.

“Here, it looks like you sweated a lot today, so make another loincloth out of this,” instructs Farina.

“Yeah, wash the one you’re wearing now and hang it up to dry, and sleep in the new one,” continues Jackie.

As usual, I comply without question. This time I know what I’m doing so I do a better job than before and more quickly, although that only means I’m going to be tied to bed a few minutes sooner. I lie down on the mattress and Joe points out,

“We should tie him differently this time.”

“Like how?” asks Mickey.

“Instead of both his hands and feet tied separately or both together, let’s make it one of each.”

“So which?”

“Well, his hands were chained farther than his feet this afternoon, so to balance it out, how about we tie his hands together and his feet apart?" Then facing me, “How does that sound?”

I guess it sounds okay. I hold my hands together and stretch my feet toward the corners of the bed, but think to ask, “Can you tie me down good enough the first time?”

Mickey tells the other three, “You really should be good enough at that by now.”

Joe ties my hands to together and to the rail at the head of the bed while Jackie and Farina each secure one of my feet to a leg at the foot of the bed. This leaves me looking like an upside-down “Y”, but still all my ticklish spots are exposed. I can’t roll to the side at all, and can tell they did do a good job this time. I try to press my luck.

“If you’re going to tickle me, can you please use the feather duster?”

“What do you mean ‘if’?” asks Farina.

“Tell you what,” says Jackie. “We’ll alternate. Today will be the feather duster.” Jackie then tickles me with the feather duster for about three seconds, though I’m laughing hysterically after three seconds. Fortunately, the gang is satisfied I am tied securely. They wish me good night and disappear upstairs.

I’m left alone with my thoughts, which include, “Did I just ask them to tie me so well that I can’t escape?” Yet it makes sense in these circumstances. Also my parents didn’t act like I expected them to, but maybe they think that’s the best way to get me through this unharmed. And what is in store for me tomorrow? I’m too tired to think any more, and manage to drift off to sleep.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Sep 24, 2017 7:39 pm

Chapter 7

Today after breakfast I get a surprise. The gang comes down dressed in cowboy outfits that are probably Halloween costumes, and they are carrying lassos. Joe explains, “Since you’re dressed like an Indian, we thought we’d play Cowboys and Indians today.”

This isn’t very politically correct or up to date, but it is clear that I have no choice. At least this looks like it might be more interesting than being meekly tied up.

“Yeah, and put up a good fight,” orders Farina.

Although it’s hopeless, being allowed to put up some resistance is very welcome. Jackie throws a lasso at me first, and I jump to the side easily as it lands well short. Seeing that this gang is not mad, but seems rather encouraged by this development, I decide to delay getting captured as long as possible.

These guys aren’t good at roping at all. Their first several efforts miss badly, and it is easy to dodge the lassos. They probably never practiced or did this before. There is some thrill here like I might have a chance to escape, but they did lock the basement door again so I really don’t have such a chance. Nevertheless, there is some satisfaction in putting up a decent fight.

After several minutes, the gang realizes they have to coordinate their efforts better. They approach me from four sides. Mickey throws his lasso at me from the front and Farina from behind, so I have to jump either left or right. I see Jackie’s lasso coming at me from the left, but when I jump to the right Joe’s lasso flies around my shoulders, and he quickly pulls it tight, pinning my upper arms to my sides. With Joe holding me in place, three more lassos quickly are tossed around me. I know I have lost, but what happens now?

It doesn’t take long to find out. Despite my struggling, the Cowboys maneuver the lassos so that one goes around my ankles, and a second around my legs above the knees. The third is a little below my waist and traps my hands behind my hips as my arms are brought down my sides and a little behind me. The fourth goes just below my chest and above my elbows, and all four lassos are pulled tight. Then they push me back against a square support post. Somehow they tie all the ropes around and behind the post where I can’t see them, but the result is they are all very tight at the end.

The gang admires their handiwork.

“Good job, men!” congratulates Mickey. “He’ll never get out of that.”

“We should make sure,” comments Jackie.

I quickly realize what’s about to happen and try to brace myself. Jackie takes the feather duster and tickles me, but fortunately the way I’m tied some of my ticklish spots, my sides, armpits, and part of my stomach, are safe. I’m still forced to laugh out loud for a while, but it’s more bearable this time, and Jackie doesn’t keep it up for long, no more than two minutes. He and the others may be more amused by seeing me tied up in this different position.

“That is one sorry looking Indian,” comments Joe.

“I know what he needs:” says Jackie. “War paint!”

“And a feather headdress!” adds Farina.

A few minutes later Farina puts a headband on me and sticks feathers from the duster into it. Then Jackie comes with some buckets of paint and paints stripes on my face and chest. He must have sensed that I’m not thrilled about his.

“Hey, if you don’t like this, just wash it off before it dries in an hour. After that it’s a lot harder.”

Of course there’s no chance I’ll be able to move in the next hour. The top rope is so tight I can’t even shrug my shoulders which would require getting my elbows up through that loop. If I try, I’m going to get bad rope burns, and I can do without that. All I can really do is bang the back of my head against the post, and that’s definitely not a good idea.

The gang disappears and leaves me alone with the drying paint. The sensations I get are that the tight ropes feel good against my skin, and that it feels like I’m being hugged. That makes up some for the headdress and war paint, and it’s good to think of positive thoughts when I can.
It’s probably three hours later when they return, but with the computer again. They set it up in front of me, and I know what’s coming next. How will my parents react when they see me tied up in this ridiculous stereotype of a Native American outfit?

Jackie proclaims, “Hey, glad you decided not to wash off the war paint. I’m sure your folks will like it.”

Considering how they reacted to seeing me shackled to the wall yesterday, Jackie could well be right, and I’m sure it’s best to agree with him. “Yeah, they probably will.”

Sure enough, when the Skype connection is made, my parents get puzzled looks and my father asks me, “What are you doing? Are you supposed to be an Indian?”

“That’s it!” exclaims my mother. “You’re playing Cowboys and Indians, aren’t you? Isn’t that nice, they’re passing the time by playing games with you?”

“Uh, yeah.” I want to make the best of this. “Or Cowboys and Indian. I was really outnumbered, but I put up a good fight.”

Now Farina decides to confirm my opinion. “That’s right, he’s a slippery dude.”

“Well, it’s good to hear you’re getting him some exercise.” Does my mother have to keep saying things like that?

Mickey says, “Thanks. We’ll all be getting more exercise later.”

The pattern isn’t hard to notice. In an hour or two I’ll get a lunch and bathroom break, and then there will be round two of this game. And … I’m kind of looking forward to it.

My father chimes in, “I just sent the 2,100 dollars that I said I would yesterday.”

“Right, we got it,” says Mickey.

Good. There’s no more point to this conversation, so I want to end it. “So I’m fine. Can we hang up now so we can finish our game?”

Fortunately that works. The call ends, the guys take the computer back upstairs, and I am left alone tied to the post for more than another hour. My prediction is accurate, as this time Joe comes down to untie me and give me a sandwich for lunch. The rope marks in my skin are obvious, and during my bathroom break I find that indeed the paint doesn’t wash off with just water. I ask,

“Do you have paint thinner or turpentine or something?”

“Yes, but you’re not getting any now. You look much better now, and it will be a better game when the others come.”

“Can I wash it off after that?”

“You might to behave right.”

“What do I need to do? Let you win?”

Joe scoffs. “You don’t need to let us win, we’ll win anyway. But you did good this morning. Put up the best fight you can.”

An idea crosses my mind. “I could put up a better fight with a weapon. You have lassos, ain’t I supposed to have a bow and arrow?”

The suggestion has some effect on Joe. “We didn’t think of that. Next time for sure.”

“About next time, could you please tie the ropes not in the same place? That would be awful hard on my skin.”

“That’s a good idea,” agrees Joe. “Of course you’re not thinking you might escape then?”

“Of course not. I’m sure you’d catch me, and I don’t want mess anything up.”

A few minutes later the others come down with their lassos, and round two is on. Unfortunately for me, I can’t move as quickly as before as my legs are kind of stiff from being tied tightly for so long. However, the Cowboys don’t rope me as fast as they might. It seems like they are missing on purpose, or taking too long to throw their lassos, giving me a chance to delay my fate. As usual, I go along, avoiding capture as long as possible, but after about five minutes they get me. I put up a little resistance since that seems to be what they want, but soon I’m secured to the post again.

Joe is good to his word regarding the placement of the ropes. On this occasion, one is tied just below my knees, another around the middle of my thighs, the third a little above my waist and around my forearms which to the sides and a little behind me like before, and the last around my shoulders at the level of my armpits. As expected, the ropes are all very tight – and still feels kind of good against my skin.

The gang inspects their prisoner. Jackie asks,

“So what should we do with this Indian?”

Farina has an immediate answer. “I say we scalp him!”

The others laugh as I gulp, but it turns out Farina’s idea of scalping is to just yank the feathers out of the headdress I forgot I was wearing, and then the headband. Of course, having the feathers in his hands, Farina was bound to tickle me again. I might have started laughing at the thought of my position before the feathers first touched my stomach, but in any event, I am soon in hysterics. A couple minutes later that episode is over, and it takes several more minutes for me to return to my senses. The Cowboys are gone, from the basement, at least.

A competent escape artist could get out of this, but I just don’t feel like trying. I’m sure I’d be caught if I made it to the top of the stairs, but also I don’t feel like getting any more rope burns. I got a little when I shook due to the tickling, and by holding still it isn’t very uncomfortable. Even the upper two ropes digging into me gently with every breath aren’t bad as long as I don’t move up or down.

It might be four hours when the gang returns, and they seemed to be armed with water pistols. Joe speaks,

“Since you’ve been such a good Indian, we decided to let you have the paint thinner.”

Mickey advises, “Better close your eyes and mouth.”

So they filled water pistols with paint thinner? Protesting that this is not an approved way to apply paint thinner would require opening my mouth, which is undoubtedly a bad idea at this point. Thus I comply again, and soon feel several jets of liquid hitting my face and chest. The firing squad keeps it up for a couple minutes, when Mickey declares,

“I think that’s enough.”

The Cowboys finally release the Indian, who gets to wash up and change. Fortunately the war paint comes off rather easily now, but rope marks are obvious across my chest, stomach, the outsides of my arms, and the front of my legs. When I emerge from the bathroom, Mickey announces,
“The paint thinner sure worked but those rope marks – we better not use ropes tomorrow.”

I feel like I should say something, and wind up with “Thanks. Good idea.”

The rest of the day is sort of a daze. I get to walk around a little and bring back more circulation, am brought something to eat for dinner, and soon get tied to the bed again, this time with my hands apart toward the upper corners and my feet tied together, like a right-side-up “Y”. One more round of tickling doesn’t seem very intense; maybe I’m used to it or am too tired to care. I’m definitely getting used to sleeping while tied down to the bed, and fall asleep soon enough wondering what’s coming tomorrow.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Oct 15, 2017 7:52 pm

Chapter 8

After breakfast the next day, I ask, “What happens today?”

Mickey’s answer surprises me.

“Today is Sunday. We should go to church.”

I had lost track of the days, but in any event this gang had not struck me as religious types. And they certainly weren’t about to take me to a real church. When I look at him puzzled, he continues,

“Of course we can’t take you anywhere, but we can make this basement look like a church. There’s just one thing we really need.”

Joe takes a chair and places it sideways against a support pillar, while Mickey instructs, “Now stand up on that, and hold your arms straight out to your sides.”

When I do so I realize that my arms are in front of a rafter, about three inches square and running the width of the basement. I suddenly realize what their plans are. Once again, I’m dressed perfectly for the occasion.

“Are you going to crucify me?”

“We won’t nail you to that cross, just tape you to it,” explains Mickey. We’re using clear packing tape so it may look like you’re floating there.”
These guys aren’t getting the religious bit quite right, but pointing that out doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Before I can compose another thought Farina and Jackie wrap the tape around my wrists and the rafter five times, while Joe wraps tape around my ankles and the back of the vertical post. Joe yanks the chair out from under my feet, and there I am crucified.

I wince, as it’s quite a strain on my shoulders. The tape around my feet doesn’t support my weight as much as we hoped. Seeing my distress, Mickey replaces the chair and manages to support my heels by wrapping more tape under them and diagonally up around the post. He tells Farina and Jackie to wrap more tape around my arms right by my shoulders. When Mickey removes the chair again is time it works much better. The tape around my upper arms supports a good part of my weight. It isn’t particularly comfortable but easily bearable.

The new tape around my upper arms has really pinned my shoulder blades to the post. I can’t move my arms and legs in what has become a familiar feeling. I can wiggle my fingers and toes to keep some circulation going, and can turn my head and bang it on the beam behind me, but I elect not to do that.

“Is that holding you good?” asks Mickey.

“Yes, you did a great job.” However, I’m sure my words won’t stop what coming next, a scene that never happened in any real church.

Joe comments, “I think so too, but you know we have to make sure? Wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”

It’s nice when they’re so concerned about my welfare. Knowing all my ticklish spots are vulnerable in this position, I brace myself, and then see Farina with my toothbrush and Jackie with the feather duster. This time they go after me at the same time, as if they are seeing which implement is more effective. I can’t tell as I lose my senses after five seconds, and the tickling goes on for three or four minutes. Then I am gasping for breath, but the tape has held very well.

The gang looks at me for a couple minutes, laughs, and then leaves, with Mickey saying that they’ll be back a little later. I recover my senses a few minutes later, and a strange feeling comes over me. My family is not very religious. We tried a few churches so I learned about some of that stuff, but didn’t care for rituals and singing, and pretty much decided to worship privately if we ever felt like it. But now this crucifixion thing feels … right. I’m not sure if this is something I deserve for being bad, or something I deserve for being good. In any event it feels like I absolutely belong here. I am content to take deep, even breaths and hang there.

About an hour later, the gang comes back down with the computer equipment. It’s clearly time for another session with my parents, but this time I don’t dread it. A few minutes later the connection is set up.

My parents look puzzled. “Is this connection good?” asks my mother. “It looks like you’re floating or glued to the wood.”

“The connection is fine. I’m taped to this cross with strong, clear packing tape.”

“Oh, that explains it. So now, what are you doing up there?”

Something has happened to me that I can’t explain. “I’m atoning for my sins.”

“What sins?”

“I haven’t always honored you. And I took food from the refrigerator after you told me not to, and then lied about it. And I’ve coveted neighbors’ possessions. Like clothes I don’t need. I’m sorry I complained to you the other day; I don’t need anything more than a loincloth. And … I have taken the name of the Lord in vain. And I haven’t always rested on the Sabbath. Let’s see, is ther anything else …”

My mother chimes in. “We appreciate your telling us, but you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. We’ve all worked on Sundays. And you don’t have to be crucified; that’s not the way it works.”

“I feel like I need to do this.”

My father comments to his wife, “He looks fine up there. If this is what he wants to do, we should support him.”

“Yes, you’re right,” she answers. Then to me, “Go right ahead dear, stay up there as long as you like.”

I don’t think I much choice in the matter, but okay. My father concludes with, “Just hang in there. I should be able to wire 3,000 dollars tomorrow.”

The video session ends, and the gang seems surprised by my conversation. Mickey is slow to ask, “So how long do we leave him up there?”

“The usual, till lunchtime,” suggests Joe.

“How does that sound to you?” asks Mickey of me. “That along enough for you to atone for your sins?”

Does the devil make me do it? “I don’t think so. Does your church have an afternoon service?”

Farina suddenly perks up. “Of course we do.”

After that I was sure to spend the next eight hours taped to that cross, with the usual break for lunch. The sensation of being partially suspended is new to me, and I welcome it, just clenching my hands and feet once in a while to keep my circulation up. I could have remained there for quite some time when the gang cuts me down in time for dinner.

“Was that enough?” asks Jackie.

“Almost. Can you tie me like that to my bed tonight?”

“You mean crucified on your back? Sure.”

Sure enough, when it’s bedtime Jackie and Farina tie my hands straight out to the sides and to the side of the frame, while Joe ties my feet together and then to the frame at the foot of the bed. This is actually more comfortable and less of a strain on my arms, which makes up for Jackie and/or Farina not tying my hands securely enough the first time and making me undergo two rounds of tickling.

Lying there in the dark, I wonder if my behavior will require me being crucified again next week.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Nov 12, 2017 8:59 pm

Chapter 9

Another morning and breakfast passes, and I wonder what’s in store for me today.

“What are we going to do to him today?” asks Joe.

“Let’s do something without ropes,” suggests Mickey. “His rope burns aren’t bad, but we should let them heal.”

“I got it!” announces Farina. “Let’s wrap him up in plastic wrap. We got a roll in the kitchen.”

“One roll?” questions Jackie. “That’s not going to hold him.”

“Why don’t we find out?”

Jackie shrugs. “Okay.”

I don’t have any say in the matter, but this sounds better than a lot of the alternatives. It sounds like I’m going to get a chance to break loose from something, but it might be embarrassing if I can’t. Then again, it can’t be much worse than what I’ve already been through.

A minute later Farina comes back down with the roll of plastic wrap. “Hold still,” he commands. He then starts wrapping me up, starting at my ankles and spiraling up, with the wrap overlapping by about an inch each time around. I stand still with my arms at my sides, and soon they are pinned as Farina winds the wrap around my upper body. After another minute the plastic wrap runs out, but I am neatly wrapped from my ankles to my shoulders.

Jackie is not that impressed. “Like I said, that’ll never hold him.”

“I bet you it does,” retorts Farina.

“You’re on!”

“I’m a witness to your bet,” interjects Joe. Then to me, “You gotta try your hardest to escape.”

So I’m going to be an object for their amusement again. I consider standing still, but then remember I’m supposed to do as they say. Bursting out by brute force sure doesn’t work. I find that I can shrug my shoulders a little, and bend at my knees and waist. Not wanting a hard fall, I bend my knees as much as I can and roll onto my side carefully so I don’t hit my head on the floor. Now I can squirm, bending and rolling and twisting, but I can’t get the slightest bit unwrapped.

Out of breath, I have to lie still for a few minutes while I try to figure out what to do. I decide I have to get my arms in a more useful position, so I try to force my hands in front of me. They only move a few millimeters, so I try moving my arms back and forth. Frustrated at the lack of progress, I resume wriggling and writhing but without any focus. After another several minutes I’m too tired to continue, and by now I notice that it’s getting so warm in my plastic wrap cocoon that I’m sweating noticeably.

While I’m lying there I notice that I can move my limbs a little, sliding against the wrap that had been so sticky before. This gives me an idea: I need to perspire more so that I can slide within the wrap more easily, and then maybe something good will happen. Putting this plan into action, I shrug my arms and bend my legs more. I do sweat more, but am not making progress in breaking free. Again I try forcing my hands in front of me, and then rock them back and forth, when suddenly there’s enough room behind for my hands to slide behind my back. Rolling onto my stomach is more comfortable, but now I’m out of breath and have to lie there with my hands trapped behind my back for another fifteen minutes or so. After forgetting about them for a while, I hear the gang laughing at my predicament. I take some deep breaths and try to put them out of my mind, but can’t forget Jackie and Farina betting on me. I forget which one bet I couldn’t escape, but I don’t care; I just want to see either of them lose the bet.

There doesn’t appear to be a time limit for this. After I’m rested, I resume my struggle, and in several more minutes I slide a fingernail between two layers of the plastic wrap behind my back. This gives me a lot of hope. I get a fingernail from my other hand next to the first one, and open up a little crack in the cocoon. It occurs to me that I haven’t clipped my nails in more than a week, and on this occasion that is helpful. By sliding my hands back and forth I manage to widen the crack and force my hands through until my fingertips reach air on the outside.

“See? I told you that wouldn’t hold him,” comments Jackie.

“He’s not out yet,” counters Farina.

Farina is right. Freeing my fingers is far from freeing my whole body from the sticky plastic mess. I manage to make the opening in the wrap larger, but that results in it getting bunched up and kind of tight above and below my hands. However, I am perspiring more and can move my arms more and more to the point where I can push some of the wrap down my legs and the rest of it up over my stomach. This goes on for several more minutes, and I have to take a break.

“It’s been an hour,” comments Farina.

“You didn’t mention a time limit,” counters Jackie.

“There has to be a limit.”

“If he gives up because he has to pee.”

Due to my sweat, I manage to force one arm in front of me. I then raise my hand enough to grab the top of the plastic wrap just below my neck. It feels like I should be almost free, but I’m not. There isn’t enough room for me to get my other hand in front, and it takes a lot more sliding my hand back and forth to push the wrap down. Progress is slow and not steady, but after another half hour or so the stupid plastic wrap is mostly a thick ring around my waist. Finally there is enough room for me to get my other arm out.

I collapse on my back, breathing heavily.

“You’re not done yet,” points out Farina.

“I know!” After another several minutes I find the strength to sit up and begin the laborious process of unwinding the wrap. It takes longer than it should, but I eventually manage to complete the job. As soon as I do so I lie down sprawled out on the floor, exhausted and drenched in sweat.

“You lose!” proclaims Jackie.

Farina laughs nervously. “What was that, almost three hours? That must be a record for the longest time it took to escape.”

“You still lose.”

I don’t pay much attention to their conversation because I got very hungry. After the lunch break I’m expecting to get wrapped up in more plastic, but they tell me that they ran out. Instead, they bind my hands together with several coils of duct tape, including my fingers so I can’t use them at all. Then they lead me to a spot under a hook in a rafter and tie a rope through my arms and onto the hook. They adjust it so that I am all stretched out with my arms over my head and my heels barely resting on the floor.

“Can you escape from that?” asks Mickey.

I do part of a pull-up and swing my legs up, but not far enough to be useful. As my legs flail I accidentally kick Joe in the stomach, but not very hard.

“Better tape his feet, too,” declares Joe, and soon he finishes that job. He then tickles me for a minute with the feather duster, perhaps as punishment for kicking him. It is clear I can’t break loose. The gang then goes upstairs and leaves me alone.

I wonder if there’s something I can do. A competent escape artist surely could, but if I try to swing my feet across the rafter over my head to unhook the rope with my hands and fingers tape, I’d probably fall on my head and break my neck. I take the usual safe route and remain still, and try to regain my energy. Again, this feels kind of good, so I won’t do anything to make it worse.

An hour later the guys are back with the computer, and it’s time for the video link with my parents. I’d be fine with just a phone call, but have no choice in the matter.

“Good news!” announces Mickey. “We just got the three thousand.”

Joe sets up the connection, and my mother speaks, “How are you dear?”

I want to get this over with as fast as possible. “I’m fine.”

“Have you been strung out like that all day? You look tired.”

“That’s because they wrapped me in plastic wrap this morning. It took three hours to get out, but it was good exercise. Do we have to do this every day? You can just call, and I’ll let you know that I’m alright.”

“We feel better seeing you,” answers my father. “Good that there’s still no marks on you.”

Mickey perks up. “And there’s none on his back, see?” Mickey moves the computer around so that my parents can see he’s telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I was tied this way this time.

“Okay, how about one video call a week, and regular phone calls the other days?” I suggest.

“We have to think about that, son,” says my dad. “Looks like everything is okay, so talk to you tomorrow.”

Fortunately the call ends, and the gang goes away. Is everything really okay? For now I want to be left alone. I stand still for an hour, then do a pull-up to see if I can undo the tape around my hands with my teeth, but that doesn’t work at all. It’s another two or three hours before the gang returns to let me have something to eat and the bathroom break.

When it’s time for bed, I lie down with my hands clasped behind my head and wait for the inevitable. It’s just Farina and Jackie who come down, and Jackie comes up with an idea.

“Raise your head, and hold still.”

Seconds later he tapes my wrists together as they are, and soon after that he is tying my elbows to the corners at the head of the bed while Farina ties my ankles to the corners at the foot. I think this is more comfortable than other positions when I hear Jackie say, “Think that’ll hold him?”

“Maybe,” answers Farina, “but …”

“There’s one way to be sure,” I interrupt.

Jackie and Farina look at each other. “Interrupting Farina wasn’t very polite,” declares Jackie.

“He needs to be taught a lesson," responds Farina.

Within seconds they are using the feather duster and my toothbrush to tickle me. Maybe interrupting them was a bad idea with all my ticklish spots so exposed. Or maybe it wasn’t? I hadn’t been tickled much today, and I knew this would be their reaction. It’s hard to think straight. Actually it’s hard to think at all. It’s probably about three minutes when I pass out, with my last thought trying to remember something about a bet.
Last edited by skdj on Sun Nov 26, 2017 8:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby xtc » Mon Nov 13, 2017 1:59 am

A fine description of escaping from the plastic wrap. I'll bet the bunched up stuff would have left marks for a time, though.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Nov 26, 2017 8:45 pm

Well, maybe the story-teller didn't push too hard against the bunched-up wrap? It's hard to keep all the details straight and keep writing at this pace.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Nov 26, 2017 8:56 pm

Chapter 10

The usual routine is followed the next morning, but with only Mickey and Joe coming downstairs to untie me from my bed and give me some cereal and juice. They seem to be acting a bit different today. Soon I’m ready to find out how I’ll be tied up.

“We’re taking it easy on you today,” says Mickey. “Just sit on that chair.”

That chair has a metal mesh back that makes it easy for them to tie my hands behind it, out of reach of each other or anything else. Then my feet are tied with more rope to the front chair legs. Joe tickles me for a minute with the feathers, and while I have a little more freedom of movement than usual, bouncing around some on the seat, it is clear I’m never breaking out of the ropes.

“You okay?” asks Mickey.

I wasn’t expecting the concern, but answer, “I’m fine. It’s just that my loincloth bunched up a little.”

“You’re fine,” declares Joe. “I don’t suppose you think we’ll untie you so you can adjust it, and tie you up again?”

“No.” The thought had crossed my mind, but it isn’t a big deal, and I don’t want to make things worse.

“Good,” says Mickey. “Now today we need you to be quiet, so we have to gag you.”

“What? Why? I’ve been behaving. I won’t make any noise.”

I had gotten used to not being gagged since that first night, and this was unfair. It feels like they force a rolled-up pillowcase or two in my mouth, and tape it in place. They make sure I can breathe all right, and then leave.

It’s a little exciting, but I feel more anger now. I’ve been always doing what they tell me, and now they do this. Should I have fought back more? This isn’t fair. What I would really like to see is one for them tied up, preferably Farina or Jackie as they’ve the most to me so far. After half an hour of sitting there alone, I close my eyes. I haven’t completely recovered from yesterday, so might as well try to get some sleep.

Some unknown time later I wake up when I hear some noise, which turns out to be Joe setting up a camera near to me, but facing the middle of the basement. I think he starts a video recording.

A minute later I can’t believe my eyes when Farina comes down the stairs and enters the room like a condemned prisoner, prodded along by Jackie. All Farina has on are a loincloth, handcuffs behind his back, and a gag that’s tied around his head. I blink, but that is indeed what I’m seeing. This is too good to be true, and Farina certainly deserves this. But why? Then I remember the bet from yesterday. Can this be the payoff?

As Farina comes closer I see that his loincloth is much narrower than mine, just barely decent, and it looks like the string serving as the waistband isn’t tied well. The links of the handcuffs are connected by a very short chain, and the gag is definitely tied tightly and covers the lower half of his face.

Next, Jackie takes a long rope and ties a knot around Farina’s ankles while Joe holds him in place. Jackie loops the rope around Farina’s ankles and up his legs several times, makes another knot around his shins so the rope won’t unwind, and then makes a loop at the end of the rope. Ignoring some muffled protests, Joe and Mickey then lift Farina up by his feet and place the loop on one of the hooks in the ceiling, leaving him suspended upside-down like a side of beef directly in front of the camera with his head two feet from the floor.

Farina protests this treatment, and his muffled grunts increase in volume when his eyes open wide when he sees Jackie approach with a menacing grin and the feather duster. Then Farina’s body reacts in such a way that his loincloth is pushed to the point where the waistband is undone and the whole things drops to the floor. He makes an anguished squeal but Jackie seems not to notice as he starts tickling Farina’s upper body. Mickey and Joe roar in laughter, but I can’t join them since I’m gagged too well. I don’t understand why they had to silence me. Did they think I’d say something and mess this up? Maybe I’ll find out later.

Jackie is relentless. Farina squirms like a hooked fish, but being handcuffed has no chance of avoiding this fate. His squealing and wriggling only encourage Jackie, who continues the tickling mercilessly. It appears that Farina has just one extremely ticklish spot – his bare skin. The tickling goes on all over far longer than they ever tickled me. I think Farina is on the verge of passing out when Jackie stops, after a good fifteen minutes.
Jackie steps aside, perhaps to let Farina catch his breath. I can see Farina breathing heavily through his nose and glaring at the camera, and then I notice that Farina never looks at me. It’s as if I’m not even there. Maybe I’m not here, and am imagining this.

Five minutes later when Farina appears to have recovered, Jackie sets the feather duster down next to me. He then takes Farina by the shoulders and spins him around. Again Farina is powerless to stop this, and Jackie winds him up as far as the rope will allow, which is about twenty rotations. Farina’s eyes grow wide with dread at the realization of what is about to happen, and he utters ore useless muffled protests. Jackie then spins Farina as hard as he can in the opposite direction.

Farina spins so fast he is a blur. I can see the rope unwind, and then wind up in the other direction. After maybe twenty seconds Farina comes to a momentary stop, and then starts spinning in the other direction. Whatever Farina is trying to say is completely muffled by his gag. It is clear no one is going to come to his assistance, so he continues to rotate rapidly, first one way and then the other. Friction causes him to spin a little less each cycle, but only a little less. After ten minutes of this Joe announces that he’s hungry. Actually, I am too, but can’t communicate this fact. They can always watch the rest of this later if they want to since it’s being recorded. Joe, Jackie, and Mickey go upstairs and leave me to watch the rest of the spectacle.

While watching Farina spin it occurs to me that something isn’t right. He isn’t trying to slow down by bending his body at all. He was worn out before but by now he’s had time to recover. Maybe Farina isn’t trying to slow down because he doesn’t want to. He might be enjoying himself. He doesn’t appear to be in anguish during those brief moments when he stops spinning before changing direction. He also didn’t put up much of a fight when his legs were tied.

It must be more than half an hour before Farina stops spinning. He must be extremely dizzy, and just hangs there limply, upside-down, handcuffed, and gagged. I can see that his heart is pounding and he is breathing heavily, but he remains calm, accepting his fate.

Perhaps another five minutes later Jackie comes in with a key and announces, “Your hour is up.” He unlocks the handcuffs and takes them away upstairs, but doesn’t do anything about the rope around Farina’s legs. Farina’s arms drop down, his hands about a foot above the floor, and he just hangs there still. After a few minutes he understandably rubs his shoulders, which must be aching from being handcuffed for more than an hour. While untying his feet is still a big problem, with his hands free he can at least work on his gag. That is tied behind his head, and he has some difficulty in removing it. However, he remains clam during the five minutes it takes him to untie it. He throws the gag aside and takes several big gulps of air through his mouth.

It looks like Farina is going to continue to hang upside-down until someone rescues him, but he suddenly takes a deep breath and sits up, grabbing a leg with his left hand and pulling himself up enough to reach the hook just below the ceiling with his right hand. Then he gets his left hand on the hook, and coordinating his hands and feet manages to slide the loop at the end of the rope up and off the hook. His legs swing down so he is hanging on the hook with his hands. The effort is very impressive, and his confidence in performing the maneuver tells me he has done this before. How often, I wonder.

Farina drops to the floor and falls down on his butt, likely because he is still somewhat dizzy. Good, he should be way too dizzy to stick the landing. He then calmly proceeds to untie his feet. It turns out Jackie tied those knots very well, and it takes Farina another ten minutes to untie them. He rubs them for a minute before getting to his feet, except that he falls again due to some lingering dizziness. On his next effort he stays on his feet. He picks up, reassembles, and puts on his loincloth. Then he glares into in the camera and pounds his chest in triumph with a shout of “Ha!” He then walks off to the side out of range of the camera, and comes back to turn it off and bring it upstairs. Throughout all of this he never looks at me or acknowledges my presence.

I notice that Farina doesn’t close the door at the top of the basement stairs, so I can I hear voices for a little while.

“Where are my clothes?”

“You can only wear that for the next twenty-four hours.”

“That wasn’t part of the bet.”

“Yes it was.”

There is some laughter, and then some more occasional bursts. Maybe they’re watching the video they just made while they’re eating.
Frustrated at not knowing what is going on, I make a brief, futile attempt to escape but all I manage to do is bunch up my loincloth a little more and tire myself out. I close my eyes again, and have a bunch of mixed-up thought as I fall asleep. Was I dreaming, something that I wanted to happen? I’m probably hallucinating, and don’t know what’s real any more. Maybe my head will clear up the next time I wake up.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Dec 17, 2017 7:59 pm

Chapter 11

“Hey, you okay? Wake up.”

It takes me a minute to realize that my gag is being removed. I blink, and realize it’s Farina. When he stands back with the removed gag, I see that he is in only the same loincloth as before, but it’s tied securely this time. He is smiling genuinely, not menacing like before. He repeats, “You okay?”

I’m trying to decide if I really saw Farina suspended upside-down and spun around. I stall for time by answering, “I guess so. I think I had a dream where I got dizzy. Good think I’m tied to this chair so good; otherwise I would have fallen off.”

Farina laughs. “Well, it’s time to get you untied.” He unties my hands, and continues, “You can untie your feet. I’ll come back with lunch. Grilled cheese okay?”

“Sure.” Almost anything would be okay. As Farina walks away, I notice that there are clear rope marks around his ankles and shins. Farina definitely was tied, and recently. I become more confident that I wasn’t dreaming. Yet there’s something different about him. I straighten out my loincloth and manage to untie my feet, giving me a chance to wash up just before he comes back down with a tray of sandwiches, milk, and some apples. He sets them down on the table, and to my surprise sits down and takes one of the sandwiches.

“Hey, take a seat.”

I have gotten so used to eating alone that it takes several seconds to realize someone is going to eat with me. I have to ask,

“What’s going on?”

“Remember the bet from yesterday? I lost, so Jackie is making me take care of you by myself today.”

“And you have to wear that loincloth?”

He laughs. “Yeah. This is all I’m allowed to wear for twenty-four hours.”

“You’ll get used to it. It felt weird for a couple days, but I got used to it.”

“I got used to it right away. I never wore a loincloth before, but this feels good.”

“It will get nasty in twenty-four hours.”

Farina looks confused for a second, and then explains, “I don’t have to wear it while I sleep.”

“But if that’s all you’re allowed to wear, then you’ll have to sleep …”

“The way all of us always do upstairs. You must have thought about that yourself.”

“Not when tied up out in the open!”

Farina makes a strange snort, and changes the subject.

“Come on, let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

We finish the sandwiches, and then Farina asks,

“You wanna play some games?”

This is a surprise. “Like what?”

“Like PlayStation.”

“Really? I thought you were going to tie me up again.”

“I could … but I got another idea.” He tosses me a long rope. “Tie your legs and body to that chair. Your arms will be free so can play video games with me.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll just tie you up and play the games by myself. Your choice.”

I start tying myself to the chair. Farina adds, “And you have to do a good job of it!”

“Don’t worry.”

I tie the rope around one ankle and a chair leg, then wrap it tightly enough around my other ankle and the other chair leg. Then I wind the rope around my thighs and the chair seat, and then around my stomach and chest, threading the rope through the mesh in the back of the chair. For some reason I am determined to do a great job, and tighten the rope at several stages. Finally I tie the end of the rope to the back of the chair. I have done a great job. It will take me several minutes to free myself, when and if I get the chance.

A couple minutes later Farina comes down with a medium-sized flat screen TV. He makes another trip and comes back with some controls and cables. He sets everything up, looks at my self-tie, and proclaims, “Hey, good job! Looks like you’ve been practicing.”

Denying that would be futile, but I think of a comeback that might determine whether I was hallucinating: “Like you’ve been practicing freeing yourself from hanging upside-down?”

Farina chuckles again. “What are you talking about?” The way he says it convinces me that I wasn’t hallucinating, but I figure it’s best to let it go. Instead I ask,

“So how does this work?”

“You never played this before?”

“No, my folks are cheap, remember, and … I don’t go to friends’ houses very much.”

“That’s too bad. Here, let me show you.”

Farina turns the set on, places another chair next to me, and gives me detailed instructions on how the games work. Pretty soon I forget that I’m tied to my chair, and about our unusual attire, and it looks like Farina is equally oblivious. It’s just like two friends hanging together and having a good time.

After losing several games and finally winning one, a thought comes to me.

“Hey, did you buy this with the ransom money?”

Farina grins, and that is enough of an answer for me. We play some more games, him winning most of them, and then my stomach growls loudly.
“Guess it’s time for dinner,” remarks Farina. “I’ll have to leave you, but you know I can’t leave you like that.”

I sigh, but then reason, “Yeah, you have to tie my hands. But that’s okay, especially since I got to see you tied up and helpless.”

“Does that mean you wanted me to lose the bet?”

“Actually, I wanted both of you to lose and get tied up. It was fun watching you, but Jackie deserves it too.”

Farina perks up more. “We had an idea for another bet that involves you, but I didn’t want to tell you about it right away. I thought you might need more of a break.”

I have to know what the bet is, so say, “Tell me what it is.”

“I said that I could convince you to tie yourself up, and Jackie said I couldn’t.”

“But I already did.”

“Jackie said it has to be more than that. I’ll show you.”

Farina goes somewhere, and comes back with a rag that is knotted in one corner, a blindfold, and a pair of handcuffs.


“I’m supposed to gag, blindfold, and handcuff myself.”

“You’re pretty smart. Do it and then we get to figure out what to do to Jackie.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll get tied up again and have to spend another day in just this loincloth and babysit you.”

Neither choice is bad, but I really want to see Jackie endure something like what Farina had to. Also, Farina’s been so nice to me today that I want him to get revenge on Jackie. Besides, the next time I can try to make Farina lose again. Without further ado, I stuff the rag in my mouth and tie it securely around my head. I lock my right wrist into the handcuffs, and then put on the blindfold, which looks like a mask with a string around the back and no eyeholes. Then I swing the handcuffs behind my back and catch the open link with my left hand. I stretch and strain to close that link around my left wrist with my right hand. This is a lot like I did at home with the toy handcuffs, but these are the real deal.

“Good job,” comments Farina. “I’ll go see if Jackie is back.”

I have no idea what Jackie, Joe, and Mickey were doing this afternoon, but a couple minutes later I hear two sets of footsteps approach. It is Jackie’s voice.

“Did you really do all that to yourself”

At least I can move my head, so I nod.

“Ooohh …” Jackie sounds disappointed.

“You’re paying off the bet tomorrow!” exclaims Farina gleefully. “Well, gotta go get dinner. Taco Bell okay?”

“Mmpff.” What did Farina expect me to say? I continue trying to speak to ask that the blindfold and gag be removed, but whatever I say is unintelligible.

“What did he say?” Jackie asks Farina.

“He asked us to leave him gagged and blindfolded for another hour or two.”


“See?” Farina claims my protest was agreement. He and Jackie go upstairs and I hear the door close.

It looks like Farina tricked me into tying myself up to make it impossible to escape. Well, I certainly got what I deserved. I take a deep breath, and feel the ropes dig into my skin. It still feels kind of good. It occurs to me to try to reach a knot, any knot, with my fingers, but the knots are at my feet and too high up on the back of the char for me to reach.

This is a weird feeling. Of course I’ve been tied up and unable to escape many times the past several days, but the fact that I did this to myself makes it different. Back home I always made sure I could get loose rather quickly, so now it’s like I’m a new level I was afraid to reach for before. This is similar to the position I was in when I was first brought here, but now I’m not scared at all. Maybe I should be, but today’s events have put my mind at ease. I’m confident they’ll come back and give me a break when they said they would.

Apparently I drift off, and awake to feathers brushing across my nipples and stomach. Very quickly I find I can’t move, and then I hear Farina’s voice: “Hungry? Oh here, let me uncuff you.”

He unlocks and removes my handcuffs, and says, “I’m sure you’d like to do the rest yourself.”

Not sure what to expect, I take off my blindfold first, and there indeed is Farina, grinning and still in his loincloth. I try to answer “yes,” but the gag is still there, so I nod.

“Great!” Farina continues. “I’ll be back with the food.”

It takes me almost fifteen minutes to undo the gag and the ropes binding my body to the chair. I make it to the bathroom, and when I come out Farina has put the food and soda on the table. It looks like enough for four people, but we eat all of it easily. A thought comes to mind.
“The next time we play Cowboys and Indians, you should be on my team.”

I can tell by the expression that forms on Farina’s face that he likes my idea a lot. Then he acts like he isn’t supposed to be taking suggestions from me and answers, “I’ll have to see what the rest of the gang thinks about it.”

When we’re done with dinner, Mickey, Joe, and Jackie come downstairs, and motion for Farina to join them to discuss something. It looks odd with the first three in their usual t-shirts, shorts, and sneakers talking with the fourth in a narrow loincloth, but they act like this is perfectly normal. Then they come with a phone, and Mickey tells me,

“Like you suggested, your parents say we don’t have to do a video link every day, so this is just a regular call.” That’s good, since I definitely have a lot of rope marks on the front side of my body and mesh frame marks from the chair on my back today. Joe puts the phone on speaker.

My mother says, “Hello, how are you, dear?”

Like usual I want this over with as fast as possible. “I’m fine. Got to play some games, and thanks for sending enough money for good food.”

Now my father says, “Glad to hear it. Hang in there, another few thousand will be wired in a couple days.”

“Great. Everything’s fine here. Good-bye.”

With that over with, Mickey, Joe, and Jackie head back upstairs. Farina suggests we play cards, and doesn’t want to bother tying me or having me tie myself to a chair again. Fortunately he doesn’t suggest the version of poker that wouldn’t last long with our attire, and we play things like Gin Rummy and Crazy Eights for about an hour.

When bedtime comes, Farina politely asks, “How do you wanna be tied up?”

“I need to stretch out. My hands have been behind my back a lot today.”

I sit on the edge of the bed, and Farina carefully ties a rope around each of my wrists and ankles, making sure that circulation is not cut off. It looks like he might want me to put up a fight, but like usual I’m playing it safe. Though we’re the same size, I’m sure I’d lose a wrestling match as I’m no good at that and Farina clearly has some muscle definition while I don’t.

Farina finishes with the four knots and I lie down on the bed, extending my arms and legs toward the corners. He methodically ties the other ends of the ropes to the legs of the bed. When I am securely spread-eagled, I ask, “So what are you going to do to Jackie tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet. It just has to be more intense than what he did to me. You got any ideas?”

“Just on what he should be wearing. I think you’re a lot better at coming up with these ideas.”

“Yeah. We’ll see tomorrow.”

I have to ask one last thing: “Did you want to lose that bet yesterday?”

Without saying anything Farina takes my electric toothbrush and tickles me for I guess five minutes. This makes me believe I know what the answer is.

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby skdj » Sun Jan 07, 2018 8:57 pm

Chapter 12

The next morning, I wake up as rays of light filter through the basement windows. I yawn, and soon realize I’m tied spread-eagled to my bed on not going anywhere until someone releases me. A few minutes later Farina, wearing only the same loincloth from yesterday, comes down and unties me. Puzzled, I ask,

“Why are you wearing that loincloth?”

“It wouldn’t have been cool to come down here without getting dressed.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, you mean that there’s still a couple hours left before my twenty-four hours are up.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Farina chuckles, and then says, “Wash up and I’ll get breakfast.”

I do so, and this time Farina comes back with pancakes. It is an unexpected change of pace, but I won’t complain. While we’re eating, I ask, “So what are you going to do to Jackie?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“As long as I’m tied up again?”

“Of course. But since you’ve been behaving, we’re giving you a choice. How would you like to be tied up?”

I’ve had enough of being tied to a chair, so I respond with, “I haven’t been shackled to the wall in several days, let’s try that.”

“Sounds good.”

When we are finished eating, I go over to the wall by the shackles and stand with my back to it with my elbows bent at right angles. Farina methodically locks my wrists and ankles in place, and I wonder why I do this so readily. It would be great if I could be doing this to Farina. But soon it’s too late to do anything; I am securely chained to the wall.

Farina steps back and comments, “You look good shackled to the wall like that.”

“I bet you would look better.”

Farina laughs, and says, “I’m sure you’re right, but that’s not happening.”

“How about if you lose another bet?”

Farina’s face changes for an instant, as if he likes the idea. Then he recovers, simply goes away for a minute, and comes back with a rag. I realize what he intends.

“You don’t have to gag me; I promise I’ll be quiet.”

Farina’s face changes again, and then he goes away and returns a little later with my electric toothbrush. Now he has his more evil smile. I expect him to tickle me, but instead he pokes me with the handle in my stomach and chest. He keeps this up for a couple minutes, poking hard enough to be annoying and just short of being painful. Being unable to move I have to stand there and take it.

“Why did you do that?” I ask.

“You still have to do what we say without questioning. Now it’s time to be gagged.”

Not wanting anymore poking, likely harder this time, I open my mouth and let Farina stuff the cloth into my mouth and tie it behind my head. Then he turns my toothbrush on and tickles me about four minutes. The gag does a great job of muffling my laughter. When it is over he briefly tries tickling himself with the toothbrush for a few seconds, as if to see what it feels like, and then leaves the basement.

I’m left alone and get a lot of time to think. At times it seems he is really trying to becomes friends with me, but this latest bit makes it seem like nothing has really changed. Then again, I’m sure he had to gag me because of the gang’s rules, so I’m going with the friendship angle for now. In any case there is nothing to do but wait to see Jackie’s fate.

An hour later Joe comes down and sets up and starts the recording camera like he did yesterday. Again, he ignores me. He goes away, and a few minutes later returns with the others. As I hoped and sort of expected, Jackie is in the same condition as Farina was. Jackie is handcuffed behind his back, gagged tightly, and is wearing a loose loincloth, larger than Farina’s which makes sense due to Jackie’s greater size. It must be more than twenty-four hours, but Farina is still wearing his loincloth. Maybe he is trying to make me feel better?

Mickey and Joe hold Jackie’s arms as they escort him down the stairs. Jackie is putting up more resistance than Farina did, so Mickey and Joe have to hold Jackie face down on the floor. This lets Farina tie Jackie’s ankles together with a rope as Jackie protests into his gag. Next, Farina carefully ties a blindfold around Jackie’s head, this time to a louder muffled protest as if this wasn’t part of the deal. Jackie squirms blindly on the floor for a minute, and then Farina takes another long rope and passes one end of it between Jackie’s arms and legs, makes a loop and pulls it tight, bringing Jackie’s ankles and wrists together. As I hoped, Farina then ties a knot and Jackie’s is hogtied, with his back arched quite a bit.
Farina is grinning evilly, Joe and Mickey are chuckling not too loudly, and Jackie sounds like he’s shouting into his gag. He struggles for five minutes but being unable to reach any knots with his fingers cannot improve his situation. He gives up and lies still, but now I see Farina approaching with the feather duster. It turns out Jackie’s feet are very ticklish. The tickling goes on another five minutes when Jackie gets a break, but it doesn’t last long.

Farina next takes the far end of the long rope that is hogtying Jackie and throws it over the hook in the ceiling from which Farina was suspended yesterday. Mickey and Joe then help Farina pull Jackie about three feet off the floor and tie another knot securing the rope to the hook. Jackie is left suspended from his hands and feet bound together, and looks very uncomfortable as he continues his muffled complaints.

After leaving Jackie alone for a minute, Farina comes back with the feather duster and tickles Jackie’s belly for a few minutes. Jackie shrieks into his gag as he twists his head, which is all he can do but does nothing to relieve the torment. When it looks like Jackie can’t take it anymore, Farina stops for another minute, and then spins him around many times, as much as the rope will allow. I thought Farina would get revenge by spinning Jackie as hard as he could in the opposite direction, but Farina goes further. He pulls Jackie away from under the hook, and then pushes him sideways with great force while spinning him as I expected. Jackie is left both spinning around the rope hogtying him and revolving around a point under a hook like some kind of amusement park ride.

Jackie stops making noises as if he realizes that won’t do any good. The other three laugh at his futile attempts to stop spinning out of control, but like yesterday ignore me. That isn’t very important now, as I’m more concerned with getting dizzy myself. I’m sure I would have fallen over if I wasn’t securely bound to something, in this case shackled to the wall. The dizziness goes away when I close my eyes, but I can’t help but watch Jackie experience this crazy wildly spinning suspended hogtie.

Jackie is a blur like Farina was yesterday, but at one point I hear a startled and muffled scream into the gag. At first I think Jackie is hurt in some way, but Farina, Mickey, and Joe are laughing louder. Then I realize it looks like Jackie’s loincloth fell off and is now on the floor. In any case, the spinning goes on another fifteen minutes, with Jackie slowing down gradually. With the action diminishing, the other three gang members go upstairs as if they have some plan.

It's another twenty minutes or slow when Jackie finally stops spinning. He stopped struggling ten minutes ago, and has clearly accepted his fate. His muscles are no longer straining against his bonds, and he is breathing deeply and steadily. With his face covered I can’t tell how he feels about this, but he does not appear to be in any agony.

A few minutes later Farina comes down with the handcuff key and announces, “Okay, that’s an hour,” and unlocks Jackie’s handcuffs. Actually I think it’s quite a bit longer than an hour, but I don’t have a problem with that. Farina holds one of Jackie’s arms for a moment allowing him to brace himself with the other arm so he doesn’t smash his head onto the floor. Then Farina goes upstairs, leaving Jackie in an awkward mostly upside-down position with his shoulders, arms, and back of his head on the floor and his feet still tied over his head to the hook in the ceiling.

Jackie lays still for five minutes expect for his heaving chest, resting to regain his breath. Then instead of removing his blindfold or gag, he pulls himself up much like Farina did yesterday and slips the end of the rope of the hook with one hand while holding onto the hook with his other. He also does this with enough skill to indicate he has done this many times before. I think he did this blindfolded to one-up Farina. Anyway, he drops to the ground, but falls over apparently due to severe dizziness.

After another minute to recover, Jackie gets up wobbly, but manages to stay on his feet. Now he removes the blindfold and unties the gag with some effort. He finds the camera, stares into it, beats his chest and flexes his muscles before approaching it and turning it off. He starts to carry it upstairs, but almost slips on his loincloth lying on the floor. He hastily puts it on and then continues upstairs without ever so much as glancing at me.

Once again I am left alone for another two hours. There is some noise and laughter upstairs, but I can’t make out any words. I’ll just have to try to get more information from Jackie when he comes to release me.

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Ancient Skald
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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby xtc » Mon Jan 08, 2018 6:05 am

Sorry I took a while catching up with this tale.
I'm sorry you're not getting more feedaback on it but, for my part, please keep it up.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby Shadesflirty » Wed Jan 10, 2018 7:40 am

xtc wrote:Sorry I took a while catching up with this tale.
I'm sorry you're not getting more feedaback on it but, for my part, please keep it up.

I just went through the whole story then. Really impressively written and there’s lots of interesting stuff going on behind the scenes I’m really intrigued by and can’t wait to see how it develops. Thank you very much and I look forward to reading more :)

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Re: Summer Writing Assignment (self/m, mmmm/m)

Postby Karlchen » Wed Jan 10, 2018 10:13 am

Very interesting story. How many chapters will there be?

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