... but I'm partial to two boys tied up face-to-face, bodies tightly pressed against each other! Looking forward to their embrace and how they decide to best "communicate" with each other 
Homebound M/m Complete - March 28th, 2022
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george_bound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 330
- Joined: 4 years ago
- Location: Ontario, Canada
I do have to agree with you that this was a fan favourite... at least for this fan ... but I'm partial to two boys tied up face-to-face, bodies tightly pressed against each other! Looking forward to their embrace and how they decide to best "communicate" with each other
... but I'm partial to two boys tied up face-to-face, bodies tightly pressed against each other! Looking forward to their embrace and how they decide to best "communicate" with each other -
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]george_bound[/mention] Glad you enjoyed it. There should be physical closeness later on, not to worry.
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
Chapter 13. Torture Pole
The ruthless handling resumed; the fastidious nature of the treatment didn’t prevent Lester from having some anxiety every time the devious man thought of some new position or made up one of his wicked games.
It wasn’t too bad at first. He ended up with his arms wrapped around Brian and the tree, to which his elbows were strictly bound on each side. His forearms were folded upwards along the trunk and his wrists were even more securely fastened to it with rope behind his friend’s head.
“And let me put a finishing touch to your gags, lads. They need to really work if I leave you on your own.”
Mike picked rolls of Coban wrap, a rubbery wrapping tape that stuck to itself.
“It’s not the most convenient to apply extra layers to your gags, but I love challenges.”
Brian’s head was mummified in the clinging stuff first; his friend’s was next; vertical and horizontal wraps sealed their lips inexorably while preventing them from moving their jaws.
Mike took his camera out.
“Smile for your babysitter, lads! You’re a nice little bundle, like this. If you can’t, say cheese, be agreeable just for once.
“Mmmmm!”
“MMmmm!”
“That’s the idea. But you can do better than this. Let’s take another picture!”
This annoying game went on for what seemed forever. Eventually, Mike had enough.
“Now, don’t twist around too much; this might make for an awkward situation, with your crotches rubbing against each other’s…”
The boys released steam while complying with Mike’s requests and they shouted inside their gags as loud as they could. It was over ten minutes when another group of passersby showed up. Mike looked at the boys and made a small gesture, pointing to the top of the wall; they understood and tried their luck again.
Brian thought Mike was playing a very dangerous game. If the wind stopped all of a sudden leaving them in silence–it happened sometimes– the people would hear them, wouldn’t they? Being in the hands of a daring mastermind sent a chill down his spine.
Having Lester’s hot body tightly pressed against his made the situation better, notably the growing lump of flesh his friend had between his legs, which triggered a reaction from his own member and both lads ground their hips as much, or as little for that matter, as the bonds allowed them. The sneers and mean taunts of the homophobic jerk made it more difficult to enjoy this aspect of his ordeal.
Mike still had one last thing to add before he could leave his guests. He held two ear plugs, but the boys’ ears were mummified. He inserted one in each of the boys’ left nostrils.
“This will of course prevent you from making loud noises through your noses. I strive to ensure that you can’t be heard, yet you may definitely try. Some sexy time for my catamite captives, wouldn’t I know it? You queer boys are reputed to be horny, and pathetic wankers like you prove my point. Well, I wouldn’t mind staying here enjoying the show, but I have serious stuff to do. Have fun! Of course, were you to manage to alert someone outside, you’d win the game. But I’m confident my bonds and my merciless gagging will prevent any such mishap.”
Mike spun on his heel and headed back towards the estate. He didn’t intend to go too far, though. Keeping prisoners exhilarated him, and they were also valuable merchandise that he had to keep a close eye on.
He crawled through the bushes to his observation post twenty feet away from the bound pair. They were groaning and squirming within the snugness of their bonds, which had them quiver rather than move.
Mike found a comfortable position cross-legged on the ground and grabbed his smartphone to use his watch time fruitfully.
He could thus communicate with his accomplices. A man had suggested the current scenario, and Mike was now sending him pics of the setup. It was only fair to report to him. There was no shortage of creativity from the bunch of enthusiasts willing to have Brian, and incidentally Lester, kept in total bondage and submitted to kinky games. Another online acquaintance had sent him equipment to be tried on his charges. Mike checked that the parcels were on their way.
He also let his imagination run loose about the fun coming his way. The estate had amazing spots where the lads could be trussed up. Predicaments could be staged and long-term detentions could be implied in the forlorn, derelict buildings. Other ones could host the shooting of more kidnapping stories.
The online group he’d created already provided him with feedback on the lesson in the library; gag enthusiasts praised him for the show that had knocked them off their feet.
“Great job, Mike! An amazing lesson for the boys. I hope you get to have them talk through their gags again today. I’d be grateful if you did. You may even give the twerp who doesn’t know Morse a lesson by letting him see the Morse alphabet for a couple minutes. I’d love to see him try harder.”
Similar messages reflected other particular fetishes. A banker wanted to see the boys naked; a surgeon liked them bound to each other; the CFO of a large company urged to have them clothed in little boy costumes; an influential pundit wanted them dressed in various leather or rubber outfits; and some begged to see them turned into babies.
Lester and Brian weren’t about to get bored either. They picked up on a presence behind the wall; their contained squirming and pitiful attempts at making noise told Mike they were feeling a faint hope of being saved. What they had no clue about was that Mike, just a few feet away from them, could chase any intruder who ventured inside the estate.
Yet there was no danger; the wind blew louder in the lush summer foliage and squelched the muted nasal sounds. What sounded like noisy teenage girls on the other side of the wall went their way without giving the least hint of having heard anything. To Mike, this was bliss, and he texted to one of his contacts who’d praised him for having kept the boys so well subdued for all this time.
“Lester and Brian are safe, and even with passersby walking a few feet from them, they can’t make themselves heard. You’ll see the great show this evening.”
“Hmmmm! Grmmmmmm!”
They started coordinating their nasal calls for help, which impressed Mike; one breathed while the other moaned, producing a steady humming. Maybe, Mike thought, this droning sound would be even less meaningful to any passerby.
The afternoon went on. Mike kept an eye on the screen, replying to Lester and Brian’s fans while witnessing four more occasions when prospective rescuers walked by blissfully unaware.
The squirming and moaning didn’t attract anyone; Mike smiled. They’d be wet again, but he had fresh clothes to get them into once they’d be back inside the house.
With time, the ropework had given in a little and the closely bound pair’s twitching appeared to be more pronounced. Mike admired the duo another ten minutes while working out the last details for next day’s setup—one of the backers who’d won an auction would have his fantasy enacted. It was then time to bring the boys back to the mansion for cleaning and changing into costumes.
The burly man squatted and left his hiding spot, coming out on the path far enough to fool Lester and Brian into believing they’d been on their own.
They heard the heavy steps and sighed in unison, desperate at having made so little progress towards getting free.
“Mmmmmm!”
“Yes, lads, your good friend Mike is back. I hope you managed to take a nap without anyone disturbing your little rest. You’d better be in top shape this evening; there is still some action for you to partake in!”
Brian would have cried if Lester hadn’t been with him: he couldn’t lose face by breaking down in front of his friend. Mike’s big paws, surprisingly apt and supple when it came to handling rope, were soon on them. He made sure to add cuffs as he removed, coiled, and stuffed the ropes into Mike’s duffel bag.
When he was done, the boys had their arms restrained behind their backs, their elbows almost touching, and their knees and ankles hobbled with a couple of inches of thin and sturdy chain.
“Stand next to each other. What are those wet patches? Don’t tell me you wet your undies!”
Mike looked closer, pretending to believe they had pissed themselves.
“It seems you just released a few drops. It didn’t flow down your legs. Wait! You disgusting little beasts have spilled boy juice! Being bound to each other gets you little deviants to cum! You’re an unbelievable pair. If you go on behaving in such a deviant way, I might have to act upon it and use chastity devices. These exist to avoid little pervs from experiencing their sick lust …”
The two prisoners felt unease as a mean smirk spread across Mike’s smug face.
“But this will come in due time. For now, I’m going to take you back inside. I wouldn’t mind a snack and tea … and having my two little muted canary birds, with their winds thus clipped, fly around the kitchen and wait on me.”
Darn! The bastard had decided to exploit them fully. Brian tried to keep calm; Mike certainly had sociopathic tendencies that he wanted to conceal for as long as possible. Yet having to be this dreadful man’s servant felt utterly demeaning.
Brian tried to think of escape routes during their slow walk back to the mansion. Their torturer was just behind them, scolding them.
“This is no pleasure walk! I told you to hurry! Should I get a switch from a tree and whip you into shape as the chattel you are?”
Mike’s phone camera was recording the scene from behind, the two pairs of buttocks wriggling under the thin, shiny Speedos. This, added to his threats and rough talk, would make for another highly popular scene with their fans.
While he framed Lester, his bum being rounder and on top of more muscular legs, Mike mentally listed the various shots the audience had demanded. He documented the cum-covered swimwear fully while shaming the boys for their same-sex attraction.
“Creaming your undies, you filthy little faggots!”
“Mmmmh!”
There was shame in those moans. Binding them was fun for sure, but Mike relished getting them down a peg or two; he was even growing fond of mistreating his initial target’s friend. Seeing both boys squirm at his debasing comments was another worthy kick.
Mike liked variety, and his patrons’ numerous schemes provided as many occasions for entertainment. He wasn’t fixed on specific fetishes himself, but imposing unpleasant treatments upon prisoners certainly kept him motivated. He’d never had such a high-paying job and such an interest in fulfilling his duties.
TBC
The ruthless handling resumed; the fastidious nature of the treatment didn’t prevent Lester from having some anxiety every time the devious man thought of some new position or made up one of his wicked games.
It wasn’t too bad at first. He ended up with his arms wrapped around Brian and the tree, to which his elbows were strictly bound on each side. His forearms were folded upwards along the trunk and his wrists were even more securely fastened to it with rope behind his friend’s head.
“And let me put a finishing touch to your gags, lads. They need to really work if I leave you on your own.”
Mike picked rolls of Coban wrap, a rubbery wrapping tape that stuck to itself.
“It’s not the most convenient to apply extra layers to your gags, but I love challenges.”
Brian’s head was mummified in the clinging stuff first; his friend’s was next; vertical and horizontal wraps sealed their lips inexorably while preventing them from moving their jaws.
Mike took his camera out.
“Smile for your babysitter, lads! You’re a nice little bundle, like this. If you can’t, say cheese, be agreeable just for once.
“Mmmmm!”
“MMmmm!”
“That’s the idea. But you can do better than this. Let’s take another picture!”
This annoying game went on for what seemed forever. Eventually, Mike had enough.
“Now, don’t twist around too much; this might make for an awkward situation, with your crotches rubbing against each other’s…”
The boys released steam while complying with Mike’s requests and they shouted inside their gags as loud as they could. It was over ten minutes when another group of passersby showed up. Mike looked at the boys and made a small gesture, pointing to the top of the wall; they understood and tried their luck again.
Brian thought Mike was playing a very dangerous game. If the wind stopped all of a sudden leaving them in silence–it happened sometimes– the people would hear them, wouldn’t they? Being in the hands of a daring mastermind sent a chill down his spine.
Having Lester’s hot body tightly pressed against his made the situation better, notably the growing lump of flesh his friend had between his legs, which triggered a reaction from his own member and both lads ground their hips as much, or as little for that matter, as the bonds allowed them. The sneers and mean taunts of the homophobic jerk made it more difficult to enjoy this aspect of his ordeal.
Mike still had one last thing to add before he could leave his guests. He held two ear plugs, but the boys’ ears were mummified. He inserted one in each of the boys’ left nostrils.
“This will of course prevent you from making loud noises through your noses. I strive to ensure that you can’t be heard, yet you may definitely try. Some sexy time for my catamite captives, wouldn’t I know it? You queer boys are reputed to be horny, and pathetic wankers like you prove my point. Well, I wouldn’t mind staying here enjoying the show, but I have serious stuff to do. Have fun! Of course, were you to manage to alert someone outside, you’d win the game. But I’m confident my bonds and my merciless gagging will prevent any such mishap.”
Mike spun on his heel and headed back towards the estate. He didn’t intend to go too far, though. Keeping prisoners exhilarated him, and they were also valuable merchandise that he had to keep a close eye on.
He crawled through the bushes to his observation post twenty feet away from the bound pair. They were groaning and squirming within the snugness of their bonds, which had them quiver rather than move.
Mike found a comfortable position cross-legged on the ground and grabbed his smartphone to use his watch time fruitfully.
He could thus communicate with his accomplices. A man had suggested the current scenario, and Mike was now sending him pics of the setup. It was only fair to report to him. There was no shortage of creativity from the bunch of enthusiasts willing to have Brian, and incidentally Lester, kept in total bondage and submitted to kinky games. Another online acquaintance had sent him equipment to be tried on his charges. Mike checked that the parcels were on their way.
He also let his imagination run loose about the fun coming his way. The estate had amazing spots where the lads could be trussed up. Predicaments could be staged and long-term detentions could be implied in the forlorn, derelict buildings. Other ones could host the shooting of more kidnapping stories.
The online group he’d created already provided him with feedback on the lesson in the library; gag enthusiasts praised him for the show that had knocked them off their feet.
“Great job, Mike! An amazing lesson for the boys. I hope you get to have them talk through their gags again today. I’d be grateful if you did. You may even give the twerp who doesn’t know Morse a lesson by letting him see the Morse alphabet for a couple minutes. I’d love to see him try harder.”
Similar messages reflected other particular fetishes. A banker wanted to see the boys naked; a surgeon liked them bound to each other; the CFO of a large company urged to have them clothed in little boy costumes; an influential pundit wanted them dressed in various leather or rubber outfits; and some begged to see them turned into babies.
Lester and Brian weren’t about to get bored either. They picked up on a presence behind the wall; their contained squirming and pitiful attempts at making noise told Mike they were feeling a faint hope of being saved. What they had no clue about was that Mike, just a few feet away from them, could chase any intruder who ventured inside the estate.
Yet there was no danger; the wind blew louder in the lush summer foliage and squelched the muted nasal sounds. What sounded like noisy teenage girls on the other side of the wall went their way without giving the least hint of having heard anything. To Mike, this was bliss, and he texted to one of his contacts who’d praised him for having kept the boys so well subdued for all this time.
“Lester and Brian are safe, and even with passersby walking a few feet from them, they can’t make themselves heard. You’ll see the great show this evening.”
“Hmmmm! Grmmmmmm!”
They started coordinating their nasal calls for help, which impressed Mike; one breathed while the other moaned, producing a steady humming. Maybe, Mike thought, this droning sound would be even less meaningful to any passerby.
The afternoon went on. Mike kept an eye on the screen, replying to Lester and Brian’s fans while witnessing four more occasions when prospective rescuers walked by blissfully unaware.
The squirming and moaning didn’t attract anyone; Mike smiled. They’d be wet again, but he had fresh clothes to get them into once they’d be back inside the house.
With time, the ropework had given in a little and the closely bound pair’s twitching appeared to be more pronounced. Mike admired the duo another ten minutes while working out the last details for next day’s setup—one of the backers who’d won an auction would have his fantasy enacted. It was then time to bring the boys back to the mansion for cleaning and changing into costumes.
The burly man squatted and left his hiding spot, coming out on the path far enough to fool Lester and Brian into believing they’d been on their own.
They heard the heavy steps and sighed in unison, desperate at having made so little progress towards getting free.
“Mmmmmm!”
“Yes, lads, your good friend Mike is back. I hope you managed to take a nap without anyone disturbing your little rest. You’d better be in top shape this evening; there is still some action for you to partake in!”
Brian would have cried if Lester hadn’t been with him: he couldn’t lose face by breaking down in front of his friend. Mike’s big paws, surprisingly apt and supple when it came to handling rope, were soon on them. He made sure to add cuffs as he removed, coiled, and stuffed the ropes into Mike’s duffel bag.
When he was done, the boys had their arms restrained behind their backs, their elbows almost touching, and their knees and ankles hobbled with a couple of inches of thin and sturdy chain.
“Stand next to each other. What are those wet patches? Don’t tell me you wet your undies!”
Mike looked closer, pretending to believe they had pissed themselves.
“It seems you just released a few drops. It didn’t flow down your legs. Wait! You disgusting little beasts have spilled boy juice! Being bound to each other gets you little deviants to cum! You’re an unbelievable pair. If you go on behaving in such a deviant way, I might have to act upon it and use chastity devices. These exist to avoid little pervs from experiencing their sick lust …”
The two prisoners felt unease as a mean smirk spread across Mike’s smug face.
“But this will come in due time. For now, I’m going to take you back inside. I wouldn’t mind a snack and tea … and having my two little muted canary birds, with their winds thus clipped, fly around the kitchen and wait on me.”
Darn! The bastard had decided to exploit them fully. Brian tried to keep calm; Mike certainly had sociopathic tendencies that he wanted to conceal for as long as possible. Yet having to be this dreadful man’s servant felt utterly demeaning.
Brian tried to think of escape routes during their slow walk back to the mansion. Their torturer was just behind them, scolding them.
“This is no pleasure walk! I told you to hurry! Should I get a switch from a tree and whip you into shape as the chattel you are?”
Mike’s phone camera was recording the scene from behind, the two pairs of buttocks wriggling under the thin, shiny Speedos. This, added to his threats and rough talk, would make for another highly popular scene with their fans.
While he framed Lester, his bum being rounder and on top of more muscular legs, Mike mentally listed the various shots the audience had demanded. He documented the cum-covered swimwear fully while shaming the boys for their same-sex attraction.
“Creaming your undies, you filthy little faggots!”
“Mmmmh!”
There was shame in those moans. Binding them was fun for sure, but Mike relished getting them down a peg or two; he was even growing fond of mistreating his initial target’s friend. Seeing both boys squirm at his debasing comments was another worthy kick.
Mike liked variety, and his patrons’ numerous schemes provided as many occasions for entertainment. He wasn’t fixed on specific fetishes himself, but imposing unpleasant treatments upon prisoners certainly kept him motivated. He’d never had such a high-paying job and such an interest in fulfilling his duties.
TBC
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
I wondered where the story had gone, it left to the second page!
Chapter 14. Under Mike’s Spell
“We’re coming home, boys. I’m sure all that fresh air did you lots of good.”
In the kitchen, Mike was giving orders and making recommendations to his ‘staff,’ sitting leisurely on the large armchair at the end of the long table.
“Hurry up. The quicker I’m done with my tea, the quicker you will be able to clean up. You wouldn’t want to stay with your soiled swimwear all evening, would you?”
Not only did Mike occupy Brian’s father’s chair, he was starting to speak like someone from the upper class. He leaned back in a very proprietary manner. Brian was mortified at being treated as a lowly servant; chained as he and Lester were, they had no chance to overpower their abductor.
The chains hobbled his ankles, and his wrists were cuffed with just a couple inches of slack. With Mike’s inquisitive eyes watching over him, Brian had to comply. He soon put down a tray carrying a cup, a steaming teapot, scones, and cream in front of their captor. Lester held the silverware, sugar, and milk.
“I don’t like it boiling hot; let’s wait for it to cool down. In the meanwhile, I’ll make you look neat and prim.”
Mike left the room briefly, returning with two sets of new leatherware.
“New harnesses, lads! Just what we need to have you perform as my housemaids …”
The boys, defeated by the man’s relentlessness, didn’t reply. He started with Lester, allowed Brian to admire the careful crafting of this clever device. It was almost like a singlet, considering the number of thin belts surrounding his chest, stomach, and waist. A long vertical one linked them all, passing over the wearer’s spine and butt crack before going between his legs, splitting in an Y upwards on the other side to frame his body, pass over his nipples, and finish in sturdy shoulder straps.
Matching cuffs with D-rings were set around Lester’s arms and legs. Now padlocks were all their captor needed to restrain his limbs as desired.
After repeating the procedure on Brian, Mike had the boys stand in front of him for yet another kinky photo shoot. He wanted them to pose in a slightly new position: standing straight, chins up, and looking forward, their hands meekly crossed over their chests; their limbs were closely linked to the chest harness, elbows pinned under their rib cages, their wrists just between their nipples.
“Leather sure goes a long way in improving your figures. I mean, combined with the Speedos, you almost look manly.”
The taunting was permanent; yet, neither boy felt he had to be ashamed of his manhood. Brian cast a side look at his friend, and he agreed the straps pulled along Lester’s groin did unmistakably enhance his genitals. The bulging Lycra was revealing enough.
“Mmmmph!” Brian replied. “Mmmrpmmmph!”
“Brian, Brian, Brian,” Mike said joyfully, but there was something sinister in the third utterance. Yet Mike stayed on the light side.
“You would love your gag removed to thank me for this compliment. I understand your urge to be polite. But we don’t have to bother with this; just standing here obediently is enough of a display of gratefulness.”
The unctuous tone infuriated Brian, who wailed again; his outburst was met with a frown this time.
“Enough, Brian. Silence rule for both. If either of you disobeys, you will both get a whacking of buttocks. Considering you’re wearing skimpy swimwear, your arses will get glowing in no time.”
Brian remembered the spanking he’d given his friend Andrew with one of his slippers during a game at school; he’d kept a red bum for four days. The threat of such a treatment was enough to silence him immediately.
Mike went on taking pics, trying different angles and admonishing the boys not to move as he set his tripod for longer exposures. Once he was satisfied with his shots, he moved the boys’ arms in the more familiar position of the past days: behind their backs, crossed at the forearms, each wrist pinned to its opposed hip. Brian had to admit, Lester’s butt looked great this time with his back arched and the thin layer of gleaming fabric wrapping the two round mounds. The strap pulling the Speedos up his crack made the sight even more spectacular.
They were once again the subject of a photo shoot, but it didn’t last more than ten minutes. Both boys stood impeccably still.
“Good job, lads. Time for the break I promised.”
The ‘break’ wasn’t much of one. The bathroom routine ensued; one prisoner was partially unrestrained while the other attended to bodily functions before cleaning up. Mike’s presence was a turnoff, and it added to the weirdness of handling each other as infants.
Once they were both clean, Mike picked up clothes from a bag that sat in a corner. Clothes! Well, nothing that Brian had worn before, although he had longed for them. Not wanting his parents to wonder about his peculiar tastes, he’d never had the courage to get them.
It took Mike twenty minutes to have his captives change clothes and back in their harnesses, which he made a point to fasten super tight to enhance the clothing’s clinging effect.
The tops were made of tight spandex that lined their bodies closely. A peculiar gloss emerged as the tops, being cut to measure for their wearers, wrapped them closely. Brian couldn’t help but admire their looks. He glanced at himself in the mirror, but it was the sight of Lester that made him realize how sexy the outfits were.
The shorts were much more peculiar yet; the tops would have been easily worn outside on a warm summer day, but the shorts would have attracted some looks if walking on a busy street, even near a beach.
These were also perfectly sized for the boys, and they were made of the same material as Brian’s favourite swim caps. He didn’t know whereas they were latex or some less natural make, but once they had been pulled up, they clung to his mid-section tightly, any hope of getting them down without the use of his hands totally lost as the moulded underwear stuck to his skin.
They had been cuffed with their hands in a reverse prayer position, then Mike had filmed them; it was getting customary to have their demise recorded, and Brian and Lester didn’t pull a defiant act anymore every time they were submitted to the man’s camera.
Lester’s ‘shorts’ were grey, as were his, thought Brian, but they sure looked good on Lester. Mike had them spin, and when this allowed Brian to catch a glance at the round buns so well enhanced by the thin glossy layer encasing them, his fetishist tendencies took over and he felt deep satisfaction in his plea as it made him share this dreadful plight with a boy he enjoyed spending time with more and more.
“You pervs love them shorts, don’t you?”
Mike couldn’t let such an occasion go. The sheen of the material left no room to interpretation as to the level of inflation the two lads experienced in the front of the specific swimwear. These kinky shorts were cut so as to leave some room for the wearer to have his cock grow solidly. There were other cuts that were indeed much more restrictive, but they weren’t on the agenda for the evening.
Once Mike was satisfied he’d captured the essence of the moment in full digital HD, he set up for the group to move on.
“It’s time to feed you. Of course, freeing your mouth will give me one more chance to educate you in the knowledge of gags. There are still a few models we haven’t tried, so I think I can’t deprive you of the benefit to expand your horizons, to try out new things…”
They arrived in the kitchen, and to the prisoners’ great relief, Mike freed their arms from the dreadful, if sexy, reverse-prayer position. Mike cuffed their hands in front, linking them to the D-ring set above their navels.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to fix something decent. Then you may eat.”
The boys were made to prepare their own meal. Mike sat at the table, checking on his phone again, always keeping an eye on the boys getting busy. They did fine, helping each other to open cupboards and fetch plates, dishes, and frozen meals from the freezer.
Soon they had the hot dishes set on the table. They sat politely, waiting for Mike to make his move.
“Well, there’s one last article I want to read. I hope you boys don’t mind eating cold. I’m sure you won’t. After all, it’s better than not eating at all.”
There was no reaction; Mike knew he had them under his thumb. He didn’t want to compromise his relative peace and quiet with unnecessary brutality. He liked doing things the easy way.
Mike restrained Lester, who was to be fed first. Considering how considerate and careful Brian was, there was no doubt he was fond of his friend and certainly grateful for this break.
Mike sat back on his chair, letting the gagged boy feed his friend slowly. Once he was done, Brian looked at Mike, who ended raising his eyes.
“Good job, lad. You’ve earned your meal, I guess.”
Brian and Lester had to trade places; yet, this time, Mike went outside the kitchen, in the sitting room next door to retrieve the toys he needed for this final demonstration. He picked up a small wooden crate. It was heavy for its size. It was full, and it did contain metal…
Lester was still feeding Brian; the diner had not even tried to whisper something to his friend. Mike had been nice, which could be a trap.
“You’ve behaved, apparently, boys. Good for you, Brian. Then we’ll make the try-out not overly taxing, and I won’t set the crank of these interesting devices all the way up.”
A few feet away from the boys, Mike was laying down his gear.
“We’ve done the classics, and I must have demonstrated well how I believed in tape and various wrapping materials. Yet we should explore other venues. We haven’t used ball gags this much, and there are lots of very interesting implements coming from the pony-play world.”
Brian and Lester had seen enough kink over the Internet to identify the bridle gags, the bit gags, the spider gags and the tongue clamps. Indeed they’d have their mouths packed fully, but these seemed much more frightening.
“Don’t look at me with such frightened looks! I’m sure you’ll do fine. Get young Brian to finish his plate already, as you see, we have some serious gear to experiment with, let’s not waste time!”
Lester hurried under Mike’s gaze.
“Good, you’re done. Put the rubber gag back in.”
Lester complied, and tried to make the requested nine squeezes over the rubber pear as light and inconsequential as possible.
He then followed Mike on the other side of the table. The boys would be sitting across so they would be able to see each other as the gag demonstrations went on.
TBC
Chapter 14. Under Mike’s Spell
“We’re coming home, boys. I’m sure all that fresh air did you lots of good.”
In the kitchen, Mike was giving orders and making recommendations to his ‘staff,’ sitting leisurely on the large armchair at the end of the long table.
“Hurry up. The quicker I’m done with my tea, the quicker you will be able to clean up. You wouldn’t want to stay with your soiled swimwear all evening, would you?”
Not only did Mike occupy Brian’s father’s chair, he was starting to speak like someone from the upper class. He leaned back in a very proprietary manner. Brian was mortified at being treated as a lowly servant; chained as he and Lester were, they had no chance to overpower their abductor.
The chains hobbled his ankles, and his wrists were cuffed with just a couple inches of slack. With Mike’s inquisitive eyes watching over him, Brian had to comply. He soon put down a tray carrying a cup, a steaming teapot, scones, and cream in front of their captor. Lester held the silverware, sugar, and milk.
“I don’t like it boiling hot; let’s wait for it to cool down. In the meanwhile, I’ll make you look neat and prim.”
Mike left the room briefly, returning with two sets of new leatherware.
“New harnesses, lads! Just what we need to have you perform as my housemaids …”
The boys, defeated by the man’s relentlessness, didn’t reply. He started with Lester, allowed Brian to admire the careful crafting of this clever device. It was almost like a singlet, considering the number of thin belts surrounding his chest, stomach, and waist. A long vertical one linked them all, passing over the wearer’s spine and butt crack before going between his legs, splitting in an Y upwards on the other side to frame his body, pass over his nipples, and finish in sturdy shoulder straps.
Matching cuffs with D-rings were set around Lester’s arms and legs. Now padlocks were all their captor needed to restrain his limbs as desired.
After repeating the procedure on Brian, Mike had the boys stand in front of him for yet another kinky photo shoot. He wanted them to pose in a slightly new position: standing straight, chins up, and looking forward, their hands meekly crossed over their chests; their limbs were closely linked to the chest harness, elbows pinned under their rib cages, their wrists just between their nipples.
“Leather sure goes a long way in improving your figures. I mean, combined with the Speedos, you almost look manly.”
The taunting was permanent; yet, neither boy felt he had to be ashamed of his manhood. Brian cast a side look at his friend, and he agreed the straps pulled along Lester’s groin did unmistakably enhance his genitals. The bulging Lycra was revealing enough.
“Mmmmph!” Brian replied. “Mmmrpmmmph!”
“Brian, Brian, Brian,” Mike said joyfully, but there was something sinister in the third utterance. Yet Mike stayed on the light side.
“You would love your gag removed to thank me for this compliment. I understand your urge to be polite. But we don’t have to bother with this; just standing here obediently is enough of a display of gratefulness.”
The unctuous tone infuriated Brian, who wailed again; his outburst was met with a frown this time.
“Enough, Brian. Silence rule for both. If either of you disobeys, you will both get a whacking of buttocks. Considering you’re wearing skimpy swimwear, your arses will get glowing in no time.”
Brian remembered the spanking he’d given his friend Andrew with one of his slippers during a game at school; he’d kept a red bum for four days. The threat of such a treatment was enough to silence him immediately.
Mike went on taking pics, trying different angles and admonishing the boys not to move as he set his tripod for longer exposures. Once he was satisfied with his shots, he moved the boys’ arms in the more familiar position of the past days: behind their backs, crossed at the forearms, each wrist pinned to its opposed hip. Brian had to admit, Lester’s butt looked great this time with his back arched and the thin layer of gleaming fabric wrapping the two round mounds. The strap pulling the Speedos up his crack made the sight even more spectacular.
They were once again the subject of a photo shoot, but it didn’t last more than ten minutes. Both boys stood impeccably still.
“Good job, lads. Time for the break I promised.”
The ‘break’ wasn’t much of one. The bathroom routine ensued; one prisoner was partially unrestrained while the other attended to bodily functions before cleaning up. Mike’s presence was a turnoff, and it added to the weirdness of handling each other as infants.
Once they were both clean, Mike picked up clothes from a bag that sat in a corner. Clothes! Well, nothing that Brian had worn before, although he had longed for them. Not wanting his parents to wonder about his peculiar tastes, he’d never had the courage to get them.
It took Mike twenty minutes to have his captives change clothes and back in their harnesses, which he made a point to fasten super tight to enhance the clothing’s clinging effect.
The tops were made of tight spandex that lined their bodies closely. A peculiar gloss emerged as the tops, being cut to measure for their wearers, wrapped them closely. Brian couldn’t help but admire their looks. He glanced at himself in the mirror, but it was the sight of Lester that made him realize how sexy the outfits were.
The shorts were much more peculiar yet; the tops would have been easily worn outside on a warm summer day, but the shorts would have attracted some looks if walking on a busy street, even near a beach.
These were also perfectly sized for the boys, and they were made of the same material as Brian’s favourite swim caps. He didn’t know whereas they were latex or some less natural make, but once they had been pulled up, they clung to his mid-section tightly, any hope of getting them down without the use of his hands totally lost as the moulded underwear stuck to his skin.
They had been cuffed with their hands in a reverse prayer position, then Mike had filmed them; it was getting customary to have their demise recorded, and Brian and Lester didn’t pull a defiant act anymore every time they were submitted to the man’s camera.
Lester’s ‘shorts’ were grey, as were his, thought Brian, but they sure looked good on Lester. Mike had them spin, and when this allowed Brian to catch a glance at the round buns so well enhanced by the thin glossy layer encasing them, his fetishist tendencies took over and he felt deep satisfaction in his plea as it made him share this dreadful plight with a boy he enjoyed spending time with more and more.
“You pervs love them shorts, don’t you?”
Mike couldn’t let such an occasion go. The sheen of the material left no room to interpretation as to the level of inflation the two lads experienced in the front of the specific swimwear. These kinky shorts were cut so as to leave some room for the wearer to have his cock grow solidly. There were other cuts that were indeed much more restrictive, but they weren’t on the agenda for the evening.
Once Mike was satisfied he’d captured the essence of the moment in full digital HD, he set up for the group to move on.
“It’s time to feed you. Of course, freeing your mouth will give me one more chance to educate you in the knowledge of gags. There are still a few models we haven’t tried, so I think I can’t deprive you of the benefit to expand your horizons, to try out new things…”
They arrived in the kitchen, and to the prisoners’ great relief, Mike freed their arms from the dreadful, if sexy, reverse-prayer position. Mike cuffed their hands in front, linking them to the D-ring set above their navels.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to fix something decent. Then you may eat.”
The boys were made to prepare their own meal. Mike sat at the table, checking on his phone again, always keeping an eye on the boys getting busy. They did fine, helping each other to open cupboards and fetch plates, dishes, and frozen meals from the freezer.
Soon they had the hot dishes set on the table. They sat politely, waiting for Mike to make his move.
“Well, there’s one last article I want to read. I hope you boys don’t mind eating cold. I’m sure you won’t. After all, it’s better than not eating at all.”
There was no reaction; Mike knew he had them under his thumb. He didn’t want to compromise his relative peace and quiet with unnecessary brutality. He liked doing things the easy way.
Mike restrained Lester, who was to be fed first. Considering how considerate and careful Brian was, there was no doubt he was fond of his friend and certainly grateful for this break.
Mike sat back on his chair, letting the gagged boy feed his friend slowly. Once he was done, Brian looked at Mike, who ended raising his eyes.
“Good job, lad. You’ve earned your meal, I guess.”
Brian and Lester had to trade places; yet, this time, Mike went outside the kitchen, in the sitting room next door to retrieve the toys he needed for this final demonstration. He picked up a small wooden crate. It was heavy for its size. It was full, and it did contain metal…
Lester was still feeding Brian; the diner had not even tried to whisper something to his friend. Mike had been nice, which could be a trap.
“You’ve behaved, apparently, boys. Good for you, Brian. Then we’ll make the try-out not overly taxing, and I won’t set the crank of these interesting devices all the way up.”
A few feet away from the boys, Mike was laying down his gear.
“We’ve done the classics, and I must have demonstrated well how I believed in tape and various wrapping materials. Yet we should explore other venues. We haven’t used ball gags this much, and there are lots of very interesting implements coming from the pony-play world.”
Brian and Lester had seen enough kink over the Internet to identify the bridle gags, the bit gags, the spider gags and the tongue clamps. Indeed they’d have their mouths packed fully, but these seemed much more frightening.
“Don’t look at me with such frightened looks! I’m sure you’ll do fine. Get young Brian to finish his plate already, as you see, we have some serious gear to experiment with, let’s not waste time!”
Lester hurried under Mike’s gaze.
“Good, you’re done. Put the rubber gag back in.”
Lester complied, and tried to make the requested nine squeezes over the rubber pear as light and inconsequential as possible.
He then followed Mike on the other side of the table. The boys would be sitting across so they would be able to see each other as the gag demonstrations went on.
TBC
Another great update [mention]Bondwriter[/mention]! Love the way this story is going
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george_bound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 330
- Joined: 4 years ago
- Location: Ontario, Canada
Really enjoyed the harnesses and the ways in which they were cuffed to it... as well as the tight tops and shorts! Looking forward to the next chapter, mate!
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Jb99[/mention] I hope the continuation brings you satisfaction!
[mention]george_bound[/mention] Proper gear allows to set a quiet, peaceful atmosphere with such a harem.
[mention]george_bound[/mention] Proper gear allows to set a quiet, peaceful atmosphere with such a harem.
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
I hope it's a festive season for everyone, and that this new episode will make the fans' day.
Chapter 15. A Taste for Experiments
Mike’s solid ropework provided a tight and inescapable chair-tie. The shorts stuck to the hard varnished surface, which didn’t help with twitching or squirming. Once all the coils of rope had been woven around his body and the chair, Lester was one with the piece of furniture.
“We can’t have a gag demonstration with lousy knots, don’t you think? Don’t worry, Brian, I’ll come and check on you. I’m afraid you’ve been restrained loosely compared to your friend Lester, and you know me, I wouldn’t want one of you boys getting jealous.”
“Mmmrr …”
Ignoring Brian’s faint grunt of disapproval, Mike came to add ropes and tension, effectively pinning him to his chair.
“While, I’m at it, Brian, we may start with you. Let’s try a ball gag.”
Four of them, with different sizes and makes, lay on the table.
“I’ll start with a small one. Silence rule on, of course.”
Mike removed the muzzle and wiped the saliva with a cloth napkin.
“Open big.”
Brian parted his lips and Mike inserted the hard rubber ball inside his mouth. It was small, so he could close his jaws over it. Mike tightened the strap at Brian’s nape.
“This is the basic model. Say, ‘Hi Mike, thanks for this puny ball gag.’”
“Rmmmrg Sssscrrbrrmmggggg.”
“It hampers speech; let me see if it gets the same result with Lester.”
Mike went to the other side of the table to provide Lester with the same gag, albeit a tad bigger one.
The request for comments gave out the same garbled language. This was nevertheless still too understandable for Mike, who was developing an ear for gag talk.
“Well, let’s make it more challenging!”
He tested the four ball sizes. The final one was a wide foam-rubber ball that fully filled their mouths.
“This seems much better. With the right size and a good method to fill the mouth, your charges are quiet and out of hearing.”
Mike pulled the straps one notch tighter, adding a small padlock in the buckles.
“What a fine model for everyday use, don’t you think? This way, you could handle domestic duties together and I’d know you couldn’t plot your escape. Ah, the wonder of gags! It sure makes a kidnapper’s life easier. What do you think, lads? Should we try the fancier models we’ve got here?”
“MMMMMMM …”
“Mmmmmm!”
“Of course, you agree. I’ll go with the spider gags next. Oh, and I feel generous, so I’m going to provide you with a Morse code cheat sheet, Brian. Make the most of it while you’re gagged.”
He set a page full of dots and dashes over the table. Brian had to memorize all of it, a mistake he would have Mike regret. He would have to focus, but their abductor didn’t intend to let him study in peace.
“Or maybe we should explore further with ball gags? We’ve tried them plain, but I’m confident that I may design combos that make up for the air they still allow to go through.”
Mike’s ballet around the table resumed; he started with Brian, who was immediately at hand. He removed the large foam ball, drawing a sigh from the boy’s grateful lips.
“No time to relax, open big.”
Brian had seen the man roll two handkerchiefs into a ball. They seemed clean, which he confirmed once they were pushed inside his gob; they tasted of clean silk, the faint scent of the detergent spreading over his palate. His captor savoured the scene, pushing and prodding up and down. Eventually, from behind came the first ball gag, a shiny red rubber one that this time acted more like a cleave. The ball spread his jaws open as Mike fastened the buckle behind his neck.
“It’s in the way you roll the ball, lad,” Mike explained to Brian, who was gurgling behind the simple but severe gagging method.
“Grmmmm! Rmmmph!”
“Then the ball just completes the setup, and your prisoner is left with an interesting gag that’s most uncomfortable and thwarts all his attempts at making noise.”
Lester then got a taste of this new devious method to put them in discomfort. Mike didn’t go easy on him; when he pulled the straps, the ball of cloth reading the back of his mouth almost made him choke. He barely controlled his gag reflex, and his shudder didn’t go unnoticed.
“Hang on there, Les! Gather your wits and get used to this. This isn’t the last time you’ll have to be gagged in this manner, so you’d better get used to taking it like a man.”
After his charges experienced first-hand how additional packing improved a gag, Mike moved on to spider gags. He held them carefully, softly stroking them and thus showing his respect not only for the item but for its craftsmen.
“This is chrome steel, carefully moulded and turned by expert hands,” Mike said, rubbing the rods making up the gag.
Brian had browsed websites featuring gear like this; what he thought were spider gags were apparently something else, ring gags or bits? In any case, what Mike had in hand was particularly fascinating. The eight steel curved wires looked more like a cage than the legs of a spider. It was the size of things he had plugged their mouths with, so it seemed clear where it went.
The eight arcs joined into a small black metal cylinder at the centre which kept them together.
“This has been crafted with care. Your eyes tell me you’re eager to try it, Brian. I won’t disappoint you!”
Mike’s thick, yet agile fingers were already unbuckling the strap on the back of his neck. The sudden release felt great. Mike offered a palm for his prisoner to spit out the silk ball that had been compressed inside his mouth.
“Don’t say a word. You might even get a sip to drink, your mouth must be parched, considering how much you’ve drooled,” Mike said, sneering in disgust at the moist ball of fabric he set on a small plate.
He brought a glass of water to Brian’s lips. The boy was thirsty and gulped it down fast.
“I’ll ask you to open your mouth again, lad,” Mike said after trading the glass for the mysterious item made of steel wires.
As Brian complied, Mike inserted what could be alternatively described as a pear-shaped cage. It wasn’t overly big, and he could almost close his mouth around the innovative item. Yet, the fact these were separate wires meant their pressure focused on a single point. He just had to hope his sadistic handler wouldn’t combine this with a mask that would pull his jaws together.
“Bite on the groove, here you go … perfect. Now, for the final touch.”
Mike took an Allen wrench from his pocket. He stuck the small end inside a hex socket in the middle of the cylinder resting between Brian’s teeth. Damn. This didn’t bode well, Brian thought..
Mike spun the wrench once and the eight wires inside the boy’s mouth moved outwards. Brian’s jaws opened wide to accommodate the growing apparatus; a second turn of the wrench got his jaws stretched to the max. His tongue was crushed at the bottom of his mouth, and the spots where the metal touched his palate tended to hurt.
“All right, I’ll leave it just as is for the time being. I’m sure young Lester is impatient to try such a wonder of engineering.”
Likewise, Lester had to comply; trussed up so tightly to his chair there wasn’t much he could do. Yelling would only get the fiend to behave worse.
“Ngggmm GGGgg,” he couldn’t help but protest when he felt the metal wires spread apart and force his mandibles open.
“It is punishing, isn’t it? Well, my lads, I think a quarter of a turn should get the setup perfectly adjusted.”
His last turn of the wrist got a wail from Lester.
“Nnnnneeee!”
“Yes, it’s a flaw of this particular gagging item; it allows its wearers to make noise.”
He walked slowly around the table, approaching Brian, who shook his head no.
“This little drawback is amply compensated by how punishing it is.”
He added the quarter turn to Brian’s metal gag. This time, it hurt.
“Mmmmmmeeewww …”
“You don’t like it too much, do you. Just behave and this should be over soon. Yes, this is definitely an item I’ll keep close to punish you if needed. Calm down, now. I’ll prepare the next sets and then I’ll remove these puppies. If you make a fuss, you’ll get to keep them until tomorrow morning.”
The guttural moans ceased immediately.
“That’s better. For the final one, we’ll demonstrate ring gags.” He pointed at straps with rings in their middle lying on the table.
“These are more versatile. Preventing your captive from moving jaws and lips does hamper speech, no doubt. Of course, they turn mouths into receptacles for things to suck on. I’m sure you pervy lads may figure this out easily.”
Lester was first to be shown the new item. Mike loosened the screw, which got the boy’s wire gag to a more reasonable size, and pulled the thing out of Lester’s mouth.
He immediately replaced it with the ring gag. The ring was big and oval, more like a napkin ring, really. Lester soon found that opening his jaws to drop the thing was nigh impossible; this became even less of an option once Mike tightened the strap. The front of the ring had a ridge, which rested on Lester’s teeth, preventing the item from being pulled backwards.
“Done, I think. You’re allowed to try it out, Les.”
“Gneee?”
“Ha! Ha! It doesn’t make you sound like you’re the smartest of the bunch now, does it? I’ll go free Brian of his current predicament, and then I’ll show you how this item allows for very effective gagging.”
He tended to Brian, who was so grateful for having the jaw-opener removed that he acted obediently. This ring gag wasn’t too bad. It didn’t require stretching his jaws painfully like the previous implement did.
“You devious little kinksters might long for having you suck cock; but this isn’t exactly my cup of tea, so I’ll go for another demonstration, more in line with what I’ve tried to teach you all day long.”
He picked up a large silk scarf from his bag and came close to Brian.
“Actually, I wonder if sucking on silk isn’t even better for you fetishist fiends.”
Mike slid the scarf through the ring, pushing the slippery fabric with a finger. He kept a hand at the back of Brian’s head, his digit coming in and out to get all the silk in. He prodded it to the sides, filling every nook and cranny.
“Better, right? No useless screaming or annoying gurgles.”
Mike picked a roll of Coban wrap and trapped the silk ball under five layers of the stretchy, gummy plastic. It pushed the mass further in, making it compact.
“It won’t stick to your hair, so I can wrap your whole head,” Mike said as he did vertical turns, forcing Brian’s teeth against the ring.
“Time to get your friend’s mouth full too!”
He turned to Lester and provided him with the same mouth-filling before wrapping his head in the flesh-coloured layers.
“It’ll be quiet in here. Good.”
TBC
Chapter 15. A Taste for Experiments
Mike’s solid ropework provided a tight and inescapable chair-tie. The shorts stuck to the hard varnished surface, which didn’t help with twitching or squirming. Once all the coils of rope had been woven around his body and the chair, Lester was one with the piece of furniture.
“We can’t have a gag demonstration with lousy knots, don’t you think? Don’t worry, Brian, I’ll come and check on you. I’m afraid you’ve been restrained loosely compared to your friend Lester, and you know me, I wouldn’t want one of you boys getting jealous.”
“Mmmrr …”
Ignoring Brian’s faint grunt of disapproval, Mike came to add ropes and tension, effectively pinning him to his chair.
“While, I’m at it, Brian, we may start with you. Let’s try a ball gag.”
Four of them, with different sizes and makes, lay on the table.
“I’ll start with a small one. Silence rule on, of course.”
Mike removed the muzzle and wiped the saliva with a cloth napkin.
“Open big.”
Brian parted his lips and Mike inserted the hard rubber ball inside his mouth. It was small, so he could close his jaws over it. Mike tightened the strap at Brian’s nape.
“This is the basic model. Say, ‘Hi Mike, thanks for this puny ball gag.’”
“Rmmmrg Sssscrrbrrmmggggg.”
“It hampers speech; let me see if it gets the same result with Lester.”
Mike went to the other side of the table to provide Lester with the same gag, albeit a tad bigger one.
The request for comments gave out the same garbled language. This was nevertheless still too understandable for Mike, who was developing an ear for gag talk.
“Well, let’s make it more challenging!”
He tested the four ball sizes. The final one was a wide foam-rubber ball that fully filled their mouths.
“This seems much better. With the right size and a good method to fill the mouth, your charges are quiet and out of hearing.”
Mike pulled the straps one notch tighter, adding a small padlock in the buckles.
“What a fine model for everyday use, don’t you think? This way, you could handle domestic duties together and I’d know you couldn’t plot your escape. Ah, the wonder of gags! It sure makes a kidnapper’s life easier. What do you think, lads? Should we try the fancier models we’ve got here?”
“MMMMMMM …”
“Mmmmmm!”
“Of course, you agree. I’ll go with the spider gags next. Oh, and I feel generous, so I’m going to provide you with a Morse code cheat sheet, Brian. Make the most of it while you’re gagged.”
He set a page full of dots and dashes over the table. Brian had to memorize all of it, a mistake he would have Mike regret. He would have to focus, but their abductor didn’t intend to let him study in peace.
“Or maybe we should explore further with ball gags? We’ve tried them plain, but I’m confident that I may design combos that make up for the air they still allow to go through.”
Mike’s ballet around the table resumed; he started with Brian, who was immediately at hand. He removed the large foam ball, drawing a sigh from the boy’s grateful lips.
“No time to relax, open big.”
Brian had seen the man roll two handkerchiefs into a ball. They seemed clean, which he confirmed once they were pushed inside his gob; they tasted of clean silk, the faint scent of the detergent spreading over his palate. His captor savoured the scene, pushing and prodding up and down. Eventually, from behind came the first ball gag, a shiny red rubber one that this time acted more like a cleave. The ball spread his jaws open as Mike fastened the buckle behind his neck.
“It’s in the way you roll the ball, lad,” Mike explained to Brian, who was gurgling behind the simple but severe gagging method.
“Grmmmm! Rmmmph!”
“Then the ball just completes the setup, and your prisoner is left with an interesting gag that’s most uncomfortable and thwarts all his attempts at making noise.”
Lester then got a taste of this new devious method to put them in discomfort. Mike didn’t go easy on him; when he pulled the straps, the ball of cloth reading the back of his mouth almost made him choke. He barely controlled his gag reflex, and his shudder didn’t go unnoticed.
“Hang on there, Les! Gather your wits and get used to this. This isn’t the last time you’ll have to be gagged in this manner, so you’d better get used to taking it like a man.”
After his charges experienced first-hand how additional packing improved a gag, Mike moved on to spider gags. He held them carefully, softly stroking them and thus showing his respect not only for the item but for its craftsmen.
“This is chrome steel, carefully moulded and turned by expert hands,” Mike said, rubbing the rods making up the gag.
Brian had browsed websites featuring gear like this; what he thought were spider gags were apparently something else, ring gags or bits? In any case, what Mike had in hand was particularly fascinating. The eight steel curved wires looked more like a cage than the legs of a spider. It was the size of things he had plugged their mouths with, so it seemed clear where it went.
The eight arcs joined into a small black metal cylinder at the centre which kept them together.
“This has been crafted with care. Your eyes tell me you’re eager to try it, Brian. I won’t disappoint you!”
Mike’s thick, yet agile fingers were already unbuckling the strap on the back of his neck. The sudden release felt great. Mike offered a palm for his prisoner to spit out the silk ball that had been compressed inside his mouth.
“Don’t say a word. You might even get a sip to drink, your mouth must be parched, considering how much you’ve drooled,” Mike said, sneering in disgust at the moist ball of fabric he set on a small plate.
He brought a glass of water to Brian’s lips. The boy was thirsty and gulped it down fast.
“I’ll ask you to open your mouth again, lad,” Mike said after trading the glass for the mysterious item made of steel wires.
As Brian complied, Mike inserted what could be alternatively described as a pear-shaped cage. It wasn’t overly big, and he could almost close his mouth around the innovative item. Yet, the fact these were separate wires meant their pressure focused on a single point. He just had to hope his sadistic handler wouldn’t combine this with a mask that would pull his jaws together.
“Bite on the groove, here you go … perfect. Now, for the final touch.”
Mike took an Allen wrench from his pocket. He stuck the small end inside a hex socket in the middle of the cylinder resting between Brian’s teeth. Damn. This didn’t bode well, Brian thought..
Mike spun the wrench once and the eight wires inside the boy’s mouth moved outwards. Brian’s jaws opened wide to accommodate the growing apparatus; a second turn of the wrench got his jaws stretched to the max. His tongue was crushed at the bottom of his mouth, and the spots where the metal touched his palate tended to hurt.
“All right, I’ll leave it just as is for the time being. I’m sure young Lester is impatient to try such a wonder of engineering.”
Likewise, Lester had to comply; trussed up so tightly to his chair there wasn’t much he could do. Yelling would only get the fiend to behave worse.
“Ngggmm GGGgg,” he couldn’t help but protest when he felt the metal wires spread apart and force his mandibles open.
“It is punishing, isn’t it? Well, my lads, I think a quarter of a turn should get the setup perfectly adjusted.”
His last turn of the wrist got a wail from Lester.
“Nnnnneeee!”
“Yes, it’s a flaw of this particular gagging item; it allows its wearers to make noise.”
He walked slowly around the table, approaching Brian, who shook his head no.
“This little drawback is amply compensated by how punishing it is.”
He added the quarter turn to Brian’s metal gag. This time, it hurt.
“Mmmmmmeeewww …”
“You don’t like it too much, do you. Just behave and this should be over soon. Yes, this is definitely an item I’ll keep close to punish you if needed. Calm down, now. I’ll prepare the next sets and then I’ll remove these puppies. If you make a fuss, you’ll get to keep them until tomorrow morning.”
The guttural moans ceased immediately.
“That’s better. For the final one, we’ll demonstrate ring gags.” He pointed at straps with rings in their middle lying on the table.
“These are more versatile. Preventing your captive from moving jaws and lips does hamper speech, no doubt. Of course, they turn mouths into receptacles for things to suck on. I’m sure you pervy lads may figure this out easily.”
Lester was first to be shown the new item. Mike loosened the screw, which got the boy’s wire gag to a more reasonable size, and pulled the thing out of Lester’s mouth.
He immediately replaced it with the ring gag. The ring was big and oval, more like a napkin ring, really. Lester soon found that opening his jaws to drop the thing was nigh impossible; this became even less of an option once Mike tightened the strap. The front of the ring had a ridge, which rested on Lester’s teeth, preventing the item from being pulled backwards.
“Done, I think. You’re allowed to try it out, Les.”
“Gneee?”
“Ha! Ha! It doesn’t make you sound like you’re the smartest of the bunch now, does it? I’ll go free Brian of his current predicament, and then I’ll show you how this item allows for very effective gagging.”
He tended to Brian, who was so grateful for having the jaw-opener removed that he acted obediently. This ring gag wasn’t too bad. It didn’t require stretching his jaws painfully like the previous implement did.
“You devious little kinksters might long for having you suck cock; but this isn’t exactly my cup of tea, so I’ll go for another demonstration, more in line with what I’ve tried to teach you all day long.”
He picked up a large silk scarf from his bag and came close to Brian.
“Actually, I wonder if sucking on silk isn’t even better for you fetishist fiends.”
Mike slid the scarf through the ring, pushing the slippery fabric with a finger. He kept a hand at the back of Brian’s head, his digit coming in and out to get all the silk in. He prodded it to the sides, filling every nook and cranny.
“Better, right? No useless screaming or annoying gurgles.”
Mike picked a roll of Coban wrap and trapped the silk ball under five layers of the stretchy, gummy plastic. It pushed the mass further in, making it compact.
“It won’t stick to your hair, so I can wrap your whole head,” Mike said as he did vertical turns, forcing Brian’s teeth against the ring.
“Time to get your friend’s mouth full too!”
He turned to Lester and provided him with the same mouth-filling before wrapping his head in the flesh-coloured layers.
“It’ll be quiet in here. Good.”
TBC
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blackbound
- Millennial Club
- Posts: 1153
- Joined: 6 years ago
I've never heard of this kind of spider gag. Is it a real thing? If not, why not?
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]blackbound[/mention] They exist. There are some kinds of ring gags, but I saw the ones described in the story too. Not very fond of open mouth myself, but Mike likes diversity, apparently.
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
Let this be a Happy New Year to all, with lots of TUG stories!
Chapter 16. Stored Away
Mike went out the room, leaving the trussed-up lads bound to their chairs. They traded looks but didn’t make a sound—not that they could. Their eyes displayed despair; being alone made them realize they wouldn’t escape. They were at the mercy of Mike’s whims.
The minutes turned into hours. Eventually they heard heavy steps coming from the hall.
“I’m so glad to have you boys behave!” Mike said. “Your silence keeps the house peaceful. Usually, it’s filled with chatter and people everywhere, but we have it for ourselves now. It makes a kidnapper’s job easier, you know.”
He fell silent and released his charges one by one, putting each boy carefully in chains as he freed their limbs from the ropes’ grip. He hooked leashes to their collars and dragged the boys outside the kitchen, wrists at the small of their backs and their feet hobbled, the steel clattering with every step.
He climbed the stairs with his captives in tow and stepped into the south wing on the second floor, where the staff’s quarters were hosted. Mike dragged them to the broom closet at the end. It was wide, deep, and dark.
The villain switched the light on. Brian remembered the pipes from his hide-and-seek days, but they didn’t strike him back then. He liked the beams in the attic better to truss up his friends. The five-inch-thick pipes were ideal to bind someone to nonetheless. Ropes had been fixed to them at various points, with small coils carefully rolled and ready to wrap themselves around the youthful bodies.
This time, the devious gardener took care of Lester first; Brian’s eyes were glued to the show.
“At the very end of the hall, far away from the entrance, there’s no way you could call out for help and get heard. I’m going to bind you in ropes only and let you try and escape for a couple hours. My own challenge, if you want.”
He wove a dreadful network with ropes, pulling and pushing Lester against the cold metal. The white cord was a writhing snake coiling slyly around his body, constricting him and making his limbs and torso one with the pipe. Mike turned to Brian and grinned.
The skilled gardener gave the young landlord the same treatment. Brian stood at his bound friend’s side, their shoulders a couple inches from each other’s. The ligatures encircled Brian one by one, turning him into a finely wrapped package. Knots tightened when Mike made turns at Brian’s joints. In ten minutes, he was as savagely trussed up as Lester.
“No cuffs or locks, lads. This will end your day of training. You’ll spend an active evening doing an escape challenge. There’s one last detail.”
Mike picked up a roll of duct tape and did turns around Brian’s head and the pole, over his gagged mouth and his forehead. Lester had his head immobilized the same way.
“Just perfect. Now you may try my ropes. Maybe a knot won’t hold, who knows?”
Mike’s devious smirk was the last Brian saw of him before the door was shut and locked. At least, he’d left the light on. The teen cast soft grunts of comfort and got a reply. Lester writhed in his ropes. He did the same, wanting to defeat the arrogant gardener, who surely couldn’t avoid making a mistake at some point.
It was warm inside the cramped space: Brian and his friend were soon sweating. They wriggled in their bonds but didn’t get anywhere. Mike had bound a rope around Brian’s hand and fingers, placating them around the pole; they wouldn’t slide off the tie even when sweaty.
After tens of minutes, he detected a motion next to him and a low satisfied sigh. Lester’s forearm moved, his fingers brushing against Brian’s flank. His mate had managed to free an arm. Brian looked at the door as he heard the rustling of rope being untied; they could certainly break it open once they’d be free.
Minutes went by. Brian, unable to see what was going on, any communication cut by the huge silk mass they had in their mouths, despaired. A faint nasal wail from Lester betrayed frustration. Brian twisted in his bonds; maybe Mike had made a mistake with him too. As hard as he tried, Brian couldn’t get his fingers out from the turns of rope, though. He hadn’t seen how Lester’s hands were bound, so he was clueless. All hope lay with his roommate, who was the better escape artist.
Lester’s forearm was free and moved; his elbow hadn’t loosened from the ropes, though. Lester seemed to make no progress. At last, he sighed again and his arm made an ample move. Lester was on his way to breaking free!
The key turning in the lock sent a jolt of adrenaline up Brian’s spine. Mike was back, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.
“Your time’s up. You were up to the task, Lester,” he said, moving forward and grabbing the freed arm before locking the wrist in a cuff’s cold metal. “You’re still bound, though, and fruitcake number two hasn’t managed any progress. You like me keeping you prisoner, don’t you, Brian? I’ll please you both and make sure you’re kept bound tight overnight.”
The faint glimmer of hope was gone. Mike got them back in chains and hobbles, crushing any liberation prospect. He let them stand as he coiled the ropes.
“It stinks in here. I’ll get you cleaned up before bed.”
Mike dragged them into the bathroom on the same floor. He scrubbed both lads in turn, disrobing and sudsing them before he rinsed them with his wash mitt. Brian enjoyed the small favour.
To be bound on his bed in a sixty-nine position, his gagged cheek resting on his friend’s tented shorts, wasn’t too bad. The boys smelled of soap rather than old dick, which would make going to sleep easier. Bracelets around the wrists and ankles ensured they couldn’t get out from their spread-eagled positions. Mike never stopped talking to them while he set them up for hours in their mutual bondage.
The gardener repeated his bedtime tale about gags. The story was the same, but Mike mastered the narrative better. Brian lay spread-eagled on the bed, with Lester’s crotch developing musky smells. The tale got extra details and explanations, which had both boys worked up. They acquiesced to their fate. Knowing Mike had perverted partners who wanted to use them as models ensured they would live to see another day.
Brian was especially receptive to Mike’s fetish. Being on the receiving end didn’t turn him off gags per se. The last ones Mike used were too much, though he recognized the need for them; he relished seeing Lester gagged and wouldn’t mind being the one doing the job in Mike’s kinky games. He could feel his own dick throbbing and leaking slightly; the smell and dark spot in front of his eyes told him Lester shared his feelings.
Mike’s monologue lasted almost two hours. The boys’ heads reeled at the prospect of Mike’s widest designs to silence a captive. After having listened so peacefully at the story, the boys had to get some sleep to perform better the next day.
He traded their dreadful gags for the inflatable plug ones. The lads even got a drink of water, which was a welcome break. Mike didn’t linger, letting them know they were on their own for the night.
The boys made the best of the situation and relieved each other by rubbing their gags against their underwear. They both twisted and jerked, coming within tens of seconds of each other, falling asleep with a pungent smell of semen invading their nostrils. They relished the relatively relaxed bondage and managed to sleep well.
They were still in a deep slumber when Mike woke them up the next morning. He was less talkative, but they knew his routine. After three hours, they were prepared for another day of fetish and bondage poses.
The parcels of the schoolboy fetish fan had come in. Mike had worked out a schedule with him to showcase the wares. He had made it clear that he could provide online support to Mike by monitoring the boys during the tasks.
Mike was grateful to the online audience, and he paid attention to detail while grooming Brian and Lester. When all was said and done, they stood in the hall, arms cuffed behind them and locked to a leather harness fitted over the classic British schoolboy costumes made to measure for Brian and Lester. They also had thin white nylon stockings going up their knees and patent leather sandals.
Mike collared them, adding leashes to drag them to a venue in the estate to host a bondage-and-discipline classroom. Several fans helped out to refurbish the master bedroom on the top floor into an adequate classroom.
The walk to the guest house was uneventful. The boys’ hobbles were long enough that they could walk almost normally; Mike’s subtle tug on their leashes ensured they made no objection.
“You’ll love it, Brian. Having the estate to ourselves is great. A crew came to install all the needed gear to have you shoot another video. Today, it’s going to be ‘Brian and Lester Fell Prey to the Evil Headmaster.’ I hope you’re as eager as I am to make it memorable.”
The guest house was remote, at the back of the vast estate, and it was mainly used as a changing room for swimming in the pool, though it welcomed guests now and again. Brian had used the location to play his own TUGs. The house featured heating and a fireplace in the winter; its remoteness allowed privacy to store prisoners away in one of the three rooms. Even better, they all had a door that could be locked.
“You’ve used the guest house for your own purposes, and I’m sure young Lester will recognize the building. You’ll spend the day in the largest bedroom upstairs.”
Mike unlocked the outside door and pulled his charges inside.
TBC
Chapter 16. Stored Away
Mike went out the room, leaving the trussed-up lads bound to their chairs. They traded looks but didn’t make a sound—not that they could. Their eyes displayed despair; being alone made them realize they wouldn’t escape. They were at the mercy of Mike’s whims.
The minutes turned into hours. Eventually they heard heavy steps coming from the hall.
“I’m so glad to have you boys behave!” Mike said. “Your silence keeps the house peaceful. Usually, it’s filled with chatter and people everywhere, but we have it for ourselves now. It makes a kidnapper’s job easier, you know.”
He fell silent and released his charges one by one, putting each boy carefully in chains as he freed their limbs from the ropes’ grip. He hooked leashes to their collars and dragged the boys outside the kitchen, wrists at the small of their backs and their feet hobbled, the steel clattering with every step.
He climbed the stairs with his captives in tow and stepped into the south wing on the second floor, where the staff’s quarters were hosted. Mike dragged them to the broom closet at the end. It was wide, deep, and dark.
The villain switched the light on. Brian remembered the pipes from his hide-and-seek days, but they didn’t strike him back then. He liked the beams in the attic better to truss up his friends. The five-inch-thick pipes were ideal to bind someone to nonetheless. Ropes had been fixed to them at various points, with small coils carefully rolled and ready to wrap themselves around the youthful bodies.
This time, the devious gardener took care of Lester first; Brian’s eyes were glued to the show.
“At the very end of the hall, far away from the entrance, there’s no way you could call out for help and get heard. I’m going to bind you in ropes only and let you try and escape for a couple hours. My own challenge, if you want.”
He wove a dreadful network with ropes, pulling and pushing Lester against the cold metal. The white cord was a writhing snake coiling slyly around his body, constricting him and making his limbs and torso one with the pipe. Mike turned to Brian and grinned.
The skilled gardener gave the young landlord the same treatment. Brian stood at his bound friend’s side, their shoulders a couple inches from each other’s. The ligatures encircled Brian one by one, turning him into a finely wrapped package. Knots tightened when Mike made turns at Brian’s joints. In ten minutes, he was as savagely trussed up as Lester.
“No cuffs or locks, lads. This will end your day of training. You’ll spend an active evening doing an escape challenge. There’s one last detail.”
Mike picked up a roll of duct tape and did turns around Brian’s head and the pole, over his gagged mouth and his forehead. Lester had his head immobilized the same way.
“Just perfect. Now you may try my ropes. Maybe a knot won’t hold, who knows?”
Mike’s devious smirk was the last Brian saw of him before the door was shut and locked. At least, he’d left the light on. The teen cast soft grunts of comfort and got a reply. Lester writhed in his ropes. He did the same, wanting to defeat the arrogant gardener, who surely couldn’t avoid making a mistake at some point.
It was warm inside the cramped space: Brian and his friend were soon sweating. They wriggled in their bonds but didn’t get anywhere. Mike had bound a rope around Brian’s hand and fingers, placating them around the pole; they wouldn’t slide off the tie even when sweaty.
After tens of minutes, he detected a motion next to him and a low satisfied sigh. Lester’s forearm moved, his fingers brushing against Brian’s flank. His mate had managed to free an arm. Brian looked at the door as he heard the rustling of rope being untied; they could certainly break it open once they’d be free.
Minutes went by. Brian, unable to see what was going on, any communication cut by the huge silk mass they had in their mouths, despaired. A faint nasal wail from Lester betrayed frustration. Brian twisted in his bonds; maybe Mike had made a mistake with him too. As hard as he tried, Brian couldn’t get his fingers out from the turns of rope, though. He hadn’t seen how Lester’s hands were bound, so he was clueless. All hope lay with his roommate, who was the better escape artist.
Lester’s forearm was free and moved; his elbow hadn’t loosened from the ropes, though. Lester seemed to make no progress. At last, he sighed again and his arm made an ample move. Lester was on his way to breaking free!
The key turning in the lock sent a jolt of adrenaline up Brian’s spine. Mike was back, a shit-eating grin plastered over his face.
“Your time’s up. You were up to the task, Lester,” he said, moving forward and grabbing the freed arm before locking the wrist in a cuff’s cold metal. “You’re still bound, though, and fruitcake number two hasn’t managed any progress. You like me keeping you prisoner, don’t you, Brian? I’ll please you both and make sure you’re kept bound tight overnight.”
The faint glimmer of hope was gone. Mike got them back in chains and hobbles, crushing any liberation prospect. He let them stand as he coiled the ropes.
“It stinks in here. I’ll get you cleaned up before bed.”
Mike dragged them into the bathroom on the same floor. He scrubbed both lads in turn, disrobing and sudsing them before he rinsed them with his wash mitt. Brian enjoyed the small favour.
To be bound on his bed in a sixty-nine position, his gagged cheek resting on his friend’s tented shorts, wasn’t too bad. The boys smelled of soap rather than old dick, which would make going to sleep easier. Bracelets around the wrists and ankles ensured they couldn’t get out from their spread-eagled positions. Mike never stopped talking to them while he set them up for hours in their mutual bondage.
The gardener repeated his bedtime tale about gags. The story was the same, but Mike mastered the narrative better. Brian lay spread-eagled on the bed, with Lester’s crotch developing musky smells. The tale got extra details and explanations, which had both boys worked up. They acquiesced to their fate. Knowing Mike had perverted partners who wanted to use them as models ensured they would live to see another day.
Brian was especially receptive to Mike’s fetish. Being on the receiving end didn’t turn him off gags per se. The last ones Mike used were too much, though he recognized the need for them; he relished seeing Lester gagged and wouldn’t mind being the one doing the job in Mike’s kinky games. He could feel his own dick throbbing and leaking slightly; the smell and dark spot in front of his eyes told him Lester shared his feelings.
Mike’s monologue lasted almost two hours. The boys’ heads reeled at the prospect of Mike’s widest designs to silence a captive. After having listened so peacefully at the story, the boys had to get some sleep to perform better the next day.
He traded their dreadful gags for the inflatable plug ones. The lads even got a drink of water, which was a welcome break. Mike didn’t linger, letting them know they were on their own for the night.
The boys made the best of the situation and relieved each other by rubbing their gags against their underwear. They both twisted and jerked, coming within tens of seconds of each other, falling asleep with a pungent smell of semen invading their nostrils. They relished the relatively relaxed bondage and managed to sleep well.
They were still in a deep slumber when Mike woke them up the next morning. He was less talkative, but they knew his routine. After three hours, they were prepared for another day of fetish and bondage poses.
The parcels of the schoolboy fetish fan had come in. Mike had worked out a schedule with him to showcase the wares. He had made it clear that he could provide online support to Mike by monitoring the boys during the tasks.
Mike was grateful to the online audience, and he paid attention to detail while grooming Brian and Lester. When all was said and done, they stood in the hall, arms cuffed behind them and locked to a leather harness fitted over the classic British schoolboy costumes made to measure for Brian and Lester. They also had thin white nylon stockings going up their knees and patent leather sandals.
Mike collared them, adding leashes to drag them to a venue in the estate to host a bondage-and-discipline classroom. Several fans helped out to refurbish the master bedroom on the top floor into an adequate classroom.
The walk to the guest house was uneventful. The boys’ hobbles were long enough that they could walk almost normally; Mike’s subtle tug on their leashes ensured they made no objection.
“You’ll love it, Brian. Having the estate to ourselves is great. A crew came to install all the needed gear to have you shoot another video. Today, it’s going to be ‘Brian and Lester Fell Prey to the Evil Headmaster.’ I hope you’re as eager as I am to make it memorable.”
The guest house was remote, at the back of the vast estate, and it was mainly used as a changing room for swimming in the pool, though it welcomed guests now and again. Brian had used the location to play his own TUGs. The house featured heating and a fireplace in the winter; its remoteness allowed privacy to store prisoners away in one of the three rooms. Even better, they all had a door that could be locked.
“You’ve used the guest house for your own purposes, and I’m sure young Lester will recognize the building. You’ll spend the day in the largest bedroom upstairs.”
Mike unlocked the outside door and pulled his charges inside.
TBC
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
What happened? I posted three stories and this one disappears from page 1? My, my...
Chapter 17. A Learning Place for the Boys
“Look at the great work,” Mike grinned, opening the upstairs bedroom’s door wide and pushing the boys inside.
The work crew had turned the neutral bedroom into a first-rate detention place, a classroom with a clear bondage and discipline angle: a padded leather bench, desks featuring rings and fixtures to lock a student, shelves filled with rolls of tape, many scarves hanging from coatracks, and a couple leather hoods. The accessories told the newly enrolled students the hours to come would be strict.
They didn’t see the five video cameras that recorded their entire ordeal. Mike had hinted at bringing his camcorder to film them later on, and they’d bought his deception hook, line, and sinker.
The room was rustic to start with. Its thick beams, white walls, and wooden floor all contributed to giving it a warm and cosy atmosphere. The discipline implements were refined and not obvious. A blackboard stood on a podium, and another podium featured two steel chrome poles—not meant for dancing.
Mike brought his pupils to the two front desks. They sat, sliding their bound wrists above the chairs’ backs; they were low enough that the boys could sit if they kept straight. Their tormentor kneeled to link their limbs to the sturdy desk. He wrapped cuffs at the ends of chains, which he could adjust. One out of three needed to be tightened, though none needed loosening.
The harness was a masterful work that matched the chair’s clever straps to trap the boys for hours of captivity on end. With their arms strictly pulled together, their legs open and their crotches vulnerable, Brian and Lester were at the mercy of the person running the show: the headmaster.
The headmaster’s desk stood out in front of them. Mike sat behind, towering over his audience of two.
“I’ve seen the twinkle in your eye, Brian. You can’t believe what you see. You’ve played games with your naughty friends in here, but you’d rather be sitting at my desk. Oh, not to worry, maybe you can roleplay the teacher in the future if you behave. Both of you are just going to enjoy being students for now. You’ll see slides go, repeating yesterday’s lessons, and you’ll memorize all of it. You will be quizzed and you’d better have paid attention!”
Mike gathered stuff from drawers and stood from his wide, robust chair.
“Just so you can learn a lesson, you’ll need tactile aid.”
When Brian saw the man’s great enthusiasm, he knew he would be tightly gagged, and so would Lester.
“Leaving you on your own, I can’t just rely on your good will, can I?”
Their plug gags were working fine, but Mike had to follow instructions.
He used moist sponges to plug their gobs and neckties to cleave-gag them. Then each of them got three over-the-mouth scarves. The long silk ovals cupped their chins and tightened their grip with each new layer. Mike had a knack for tightness, but an average compliance would work today.
He topped the excruciating gags with half-face masks. The thin leather hide clung to the already massive packing in their mouths, trapping the hefty filling inside and reducing noise. Once the massive, punishing gags wedged their jaws and trapped their tongues, Mike felt more at ease.
“Yes, you’ll be in the perfect condition to take in the great teachings first exposed to you yesterday.”
Brian and Lester looked at him waving a remote control. A blue screen appeared on the wall behind him. Mike had a laptop, and he launched software that displayed text instructions on the wall.
“You boys keep me very busy, and these patrons of yours are demanding. This setup will ensure you can stay on your own while I take care of things. Of course, I’ll make sure you’ve spent your time focusing on the lesson, and there’ll be a quiz!”
The man went out, locking the door behind him. Lester and Brian were alone, trapped in the classroom, with an overhead projector as only companion. The lesson from the day before replayed in a large font on the wall. Brian turned to his friend.
“Mrgrmmrbl?!”
Lester turned his eyes to him and mumbled back. They now both knew Morse code and a painstaking exchange started. The heavy stuffing allowed for no intelligible speech. Nonetheless, both captives felt good about resisting and relished their captor being away. Who knew if he’d only quiz them on the stupid gag lessons?
They squirmed and inspected each other’s bonds for any flaw, but leather cuffs and locks make immobility as complete as possible. They turned to the screen now and then, wailing nasal whimpering sounds of self-pity.
Hours seemingly passed when they heard the gravel outside—a nice feature of this place was the ability to anticipate someone coming thanks to the noisy terrain.
They froze. The door opened. Mike climbed the stairs. He entered the classroom, grinning.
“I hear lots of fussy behaviour in here. The windows are thin. You can be heard from outside.”
Somewhat true, Brian could say from experience. He’d always used that excuse with his playmates to justify gagging them.
Mike walked up to his desk and fiddled with the laptop’s keyboard. A chat window popped up on screen, and Mike said his messages out loud as he typed them. Brian and Lester felt adrenalin rise as they realized the people chatting with Mike were his patrons, and that they’d seen the whole scene.
Mike commiserated with the men, who were all wondering how silly the boys had to be to forgo the instructions they got. The helplessness they were submitted to was the object of much delight. Video cameras streaming their ordeal were watched by people. Several men had been feeding Mike a steady stream of comments, letting him know they weren’t studying but chatting.
At least, their strict tie-up wasn’t too bad, and the longer Mike and the men chatted and gloated, discussing their fate, the longer they remained in a bearable situation.
The chat went on and a poll came up to decide the pupils’ punishment. A long list of dares and games ended up being the result of a vote.
The penalty was decided for two full hours, starting once they’d both be bound and gagged.
Mike used one of the leather benches to enact a further trial. He had Brian and Lester straddle the thick sausage of leather, facing each other, their ankles temporarily freed. He chained them at the almost invisible D-rings sewn to the main stitch running along the upholstery. Their legs were folded knees up and they proudly displayed their loins and tented shorts.
“You’re so predictable, Brian! You’re a child who wanders in a room, without an idea of the context,” Mike stopped briefly, jumping from the podium and pushing his large face in his prisoners’.
“You see, it’s not just me. All those people who admire you want the best. They know how hard the film industry can be for nice, young enthusiasts. They will protect you from the evils of drugs and wild parties. You’ll spend your time whisked away in an empty attic, secured down in the lowest cellar underground. In any case, you will not get too far away from your master.”
Any idea of privacy was now gone, even in their distress; they weren’t safe from the prying eyes of wealthy fetishists. Once in a while, their captor ordered them to squirm and show they were flesh and blood characters. The grunts weren’t convincing enough: Mike came and set a device between them, sliding a pin in a small hole halfway between the boys’ genitals. Two vibrating wands attached to each other. They were joined by a metal piece that rested on the metal pin.
Once set in motion, the devices rubbed against the boners, moving with random motions and evolving rhythms. Brian and Lester relished the feeling, cooing in their thick gags that Mike didn’t seem eager to change.
They stayed that way until Mike, who watched them from his desk, got an agreement from the group of fans the boys had grown over the course of only a few days. It was decided that tight pole-ties would hold them in the afternoon. Leather straps and ropes would make the job easy and rewarding.
Mike gave a great show. Knowing he was watched was motivating. He had his balaclava on, so he moved for the benefit of the cameras: he knew where they were. His careful handling of his captives went smoothly; his audience knew editing would make for a better final cut, but all men watching from home were in awe of the transfer to the steel poles.
Brian and Lester had grown used to being the passive partner in their ballets, and Mike moved faster and better. The harness was again key to an effective bondage. Mike used ropes, which allowed tidying up their predicament by tightening the network of straps encircling them and the steel bars.
“Here they are, tightly held against the poles. It’s going to be a four-hour detention, then, we can’t have unruly students get distracted and forget their purpose. Meditation always helps.”
Mike went from one to the other, checking his bonds and looking closely at the twinks he’d ensnared in tight restraints.
He went back to his desk, where he exchanged with the audience, letting the boys know of a particularly strict condition they should apply to the captive duo.
The interactions with the outside had consequences for the prisoners: Mike set up an auction to decide who would pick the first torture, which led to a guy requesting they would get 20 clothes pegs stuck on each of them. Mike was to remove their shirts and shorts beforehand.
It was hard work, but maybe having Brian and Lester as bondage models could bring more money in than a ransom. The gardener considered the prospect throughout the afternoon, as he applied tickle-torture, changed gags to demonstrate their mastery of many vicious muzzling techniques, tied their hands to the post above their heads … He never relented to do his job and fulfil the patrons’ requests.
He chatted with the active users in full sight of his captives now. He’d shared his desktop with them thanks to the video projector. Brian’s eyes were riveted to the screen, looking at each statement they made, each nasty suggestion that came up, and the permanent gloating of the disciplinarians …
They had debates about how to discipline unruly boys. They seemed to find Brian and Lester docile, but the sadistic goons always had ideas to ‘take it one notch higher’. Having them at the poles for four hours was fine, but they’d make for nicer decorations if they spent the following four hours without one bond removed, but layers of plastic wrap added to keep them tight and warm.
Mike approved the idea and did another number wrapping them in cling-wrap film. Its sheen revealed the bumps and mounds it covered. The boys had to endure the comments on their hard-ons, and the fact that they were so happy to be given an opportunity to model.
Mike detailed his prisoners for the camera. Brian saw him repeat a number, but the gardener was providing his guests with high-end attention and care.
The two boys were mummified tight, pulled against the poles, tightly gagged.
The conversation started over, with this time disagreements on the duration of the time they had to spend wrapped in plastic. The four hours initially agreed seemed a bit lax to some audience members who wouldn’t mind adding two or three, even offering to monitor this extra detention time.
This made Brian’s blood curdle. He would be watched by strangers, who would use their experience to suggest more silencing gags and bonds that would put him in nasty predicaments.
The debate lasted for an hour or so, and the maximalists won: they decided Brian and Lester would spend the night like this. Mike agreed, providing a few changes were made nonetheless.
Nobody in the audience complained about Mike’s common sense measures. The boys were gagged less strenuously with the plug gags. They even had a drink during the change, which helped the captives face another long time in bondage.
The chat window was still on, and the two captives could read the audience members’ recommendations. “Let them know they’re under the silence rule, Mike! We could be checking them at any time, and we may go over the recordings to make sure they complied with the rule.”
Mike caught the message from the corner of his eye.
“Nice to know I’ve got support,” he said, flashing a congenial smile to the camera, “and it’s nice you warn our little muppets in advance. Very kind!”
The prospect of 24-hour surveillance made Brian and Lester gloomy. At least, their mouths wouldn’t hurt anymore—for a while. Mike even added to their comfort. He wrapped them in woollen blankets, which he didn’t wrap too tight. They would keep warm to make rest possible.
TBC
Chapter 17. A Learning Place for the Boys
“Look at the great work,” Mike grinned, opening the upstairs bedroom’s door wide and pushing the boys inside.
The work crew had turned the neutral bedroom into a first-rate detention place, a classroom with a clear bondage and discipline angle: a padded leather bench, desks featuring rings and fixtures to lock a student, shelves filled with rolls of tape, many scarves hanging from coatracks, and a couple leather hoods. The accessories told the newly enrolled students the hours to come would be strict.
They didn’t see the five video cameras that recorded their entire ordeal. Mike had hinted at bringing his camcorder to film them later on, and they’d bought his deception hook, line, and sinker.
The room was rustic to start with. Its thick beams, white walls, and wooden floor all contributed to giving it a warm and cosy atmosphere. The discipline implements were refined and not obvious. A blackboard stood on a podium, and another podium featured two steel chrome poles—not meant for dancing.
Mike brought his pupils to the two front desks. They sat, sliding their bound wrists above the chairs’ backs; they were low enough that the boys could sit if they kept straight. Their tormentor kneeled to link their limbs to the sturdy desk. He wrapped cuffs at the ends of chains, which he could adjust. One out of three needed to be tightened, though none needed loosening.
The harness was a masterful work that matched the chair’s clever straps to trap the boys for hours of captivity on end. With their arms strictly pulled together, their legs open and their crotches vulnerable, Brian and Lester were at the mercy of the person running the show: the headmaster.
The headmaster’s desk stood out in front of them. Mike sat behind, towering over his audience of two.
“I’ve seen the twinkle in your eye, Brian. You can’t believe what you see. You’ve played games with your naughty friends in here, but you’d rather be sitting at my desk. Oh, not to worry, maybe you can roleplay the teacher in the future if you behave. Both of you are just going to enjoy being students for now. You’ll see slides go, repeating yesterday’s lessons, and you’ll memorize all of it. You will be quizzed and you’d better have paid attention!”
Mike gathered stuff from drawers and stood from his wide, robust chair.
“Just so you can learn a lesson, you’ll need tactile aid.”
When Brian saw the man’s great enthusiasm, he knew he would be tightly gagged, and so would Lester.
“Leaving you on your own, I can’t just rely on your good will, can I?”
Their plug gags were working fine, but Mike had to follow instructions.
He used moist sponges to plug their gobs and neckties to cleave-gag them. Then each of them got three over-the-mouth scarves. The long silk ovals cupped their chins and tightened their grip with each new layer. Mike had a knack for tightness, but an average compliance would work today.
He topped the excruciating gags with half-face masks. The thin leather hide clung to the already massive packing in their mouths, trapping the hefty filling inside and reducing noise. Once the massive, punishing gags wedged their jaws and trapped their tongues, Mike felt more at ease.
“Yes, you’ll be in the perfect condition to take in the great teachings first exposed to you yesterday.”
Brian and Lester looked at him waving a remote control. A blue screen appeared on the wall behind him. Mike had a laptop, and he launched software that displayed text instructions on the wall.
“You boys keep me very busy, and these patrons of yours are demanding. This setup will ensure you can stay on your own while I take care of things. Of course, I’ll make sure you’ve spent your time focusing on the lesson, and there’ll be a quiz!”
The man went out, locking the door behind him. Lester and Brian were alone, trapped in the classroom, with an overhead projector as only companion. The lesson from the day before replayed in a large font on the wall. Brian turned to his friend.
“Mrgrmmrbl?!”
Lester turned his eyes to him and mumbled back. They now both knew Morse code and a painstaking exchange started. The heavy stuffing allowed for no intelligible speech. Nonetheless, both captives felt good about resisting and relished their captor being away. Who knew if he’d only quiz them on the stupid gag lessons?
They squirmed and inspected each other’s bonds for any flaw, but leather cuffs and locks make immobility as complete as possible. They turned to the screen now and then, wailing nasal whimpering sounds of self-pity.
Hours seemingly passed when they heard the gravel outside—a nice feature of this place was the ability to anticipate someone coming thanks to the noisy terrain.
They froze. The door opened. Mike climbed the stairs. He entered the classroom, grinning.
“I hear lots of fussy behaviour in here. The windows are thin. You can be heard from outside.”
Somewhat true, Brian could say from experience. He’d always used that excuse with his playmates to justify gagging them.
Mike walked up to his desk and fiddled with the laptop’s keyboard. A chat window popped up on screen, and Mike said his messages out loud as he typed them. Brian and Lester felt adrenalin rise as they realized the people chatting with Mike were his patrons, and that they’d seen the whole scene.
Mike commiserated with the men, who were all wondering how silly the boys had to be to forgo the instructions they got. The helplessness they were submitted to was the object of much delight. Video cameras streaming their ordeal were watched by people. Several men had been feeding Mike a steady stream of comments, letting him know they weren’t studying but chatting.
At least, their strict tie-up wasn’t too bad, and the longer Mike and the men chatted and gloated, discussing their fate, the longer they remained in a bearable situation.
The chat went on and a poll came up to decide the pupils’ punishment. A long list of dares and games ended up being the result of a vote.
The penalty was decided for two full hours, starting once they’d both be bound and gagged.
Mike used one of the leather benches to enact a further trial. He had Brian and Lester straddle the thick sausage of leather, facing each other, their ankles temporarily freed. He chained them at the almost invisible D-rings sewn to the main stitch running along the upholstery. Their legs were folded knees up and they proudly displayed their loins and tented shorts.
“You’re so predictable, Brian! You’re a child who wanders in a room, without an idea of the context,” Mike stopped briefly, jumping from the podium and pushing his large face in his prisoners’.
“You see, it’s not just me. All those people who admire you want the best. They know how hard the film industry can be for nice, young enthusiasts. They will protect you from the evils of drugs and wild parties. You’ll spend your time whisked away in an empty attic, secured down in the lowest cellar underground. In any case, you will not get too far away from your master.”
Any idea of privacy was now gone, even in their distress; they weren’t safe from the prying eyes of wealthy fetishists. Once in a while, their captor ordered them to squirm and show they were flesh and blood characters. The grunts weren’t convincing enough: Mike came and set a device between them, sliding a pin in a small hole halfway between the boys’ genitals. Two vibrating wands attached to each other. They were joined by a metal piece that rested on the metal pin.
Once set in motion, the devices rubbed against the boners, moving with random motions and evolving rhythms. Brian and Lester relished the feeling, cooing in their thick gags that Mike didn’t seem eager to change.
They stayed that way until Mike, who watched them from his desk, got an agreement from the group of fans the boys had grown over the course of only a few days. It was decided that tight pole-ties would hold them in the afternoon. Leather straps and ropes would make the job easy and rewarding.
Mike gave a great show. Knowing he was watched was motivating. He had his balaclava on, so he moved for the benefit of the cameras: he knew where they were. His careful handling of his captives went smoothly; his audience knew editing would make for a better final cut, but all men watching from home were in awe of the transfer to the steel poles.
Brian and Lester had grown used to being the passive partner in their ballets, and Mike moved faster and better. The harness was again key to an effective bondage. Mike used ropes, which allowed tidying up their predicament by tightening the network of straps encircling them and the steel bars.
“Here they are, tightly held against the poles. It’s going to be a four-hour detention, then, we can’t have unruly students get distracted and forget their purpose. Meditation always helps.”
Mike went from one to the other, checking his bonds and looking closely at the twinks he’d ensnared in tight restraints.
He went back to his desk, where he exchanged with the audience, letting the boys know of a particularly strict condition they should apply to the captive duo.
The interactions with the outside had consequences for the prisoners: Mike set up an auction to decide who would pick the first torture, which led to a guy requesting they would get 20 clothes pegs stuck on each of them. Mike was to remove their shirts and shorts beforehand.
It was hard work, but maybe having Brian and Lester as bondage models could bring more money in than a ransom. The gardener considered the prospect throughout the afternoon, as he applied tickle-torture, changed gags to demonstrate their mastery of many vicious muzzling techniques, tied their hands to the post above their heads … He never relented to do his job and fulfil the patrons’ requests.
He chatted with the active users in full sight of his captives now. He’d shared his desktop with them thanks to the video projector. Brian’s eyes were riveted to the screen, looking at each statement they made, each nasty suggestion that came up, and the permanent gloating of the disciplinarians …
They had debates about how to discipline unruly boys. They seemed to find Brian and Lester docile, but the sadistic goons always had ideas to ‘take it one notch higher’. Having them at the poles for four hours was fine, but they’d make for nicer decorations if they spent the following four hours without one bond removed, but layers of plastic wrap added to keep them tight and warm.
Mike approved the idea and did another number wrapping them in cling-wrap film. Its sheen revealed the bumps and mounds it covered. The boys had to endure the comments on their hard-ons, and the fact that they were so happy to be given an opportunity to model.
Mike detailed his prisoners for the camera. Brian saw him repeat a number, but the gardener was providing his guests with high-end attention and care.
The two boys were mummified tight, pulled against the poles, tightly gagged.
The conversation started over, with this time disagreements on the duration of the time they had to spend wrapped in plastic. The four hours initially agreed seemed a bit lax to some audience members who wouldn’t mind adding two or three, even offering to monitor this extra detention time.
This made Brian’s blood curdle. He would be watched by strangers, who would use their experience to suggest more silencing gags and bonds that would put him in nasty predicaments.
The debate lasted for an hour or so, and the maximalists won: they decided Brian and Lester would spend the night like this. Mike agreed, providing a few changes were made nonetheless.
Nobody in the audience complained about Mike’s common sense measures. The boys were gagged less strenuously with the plug gags. They even had a drink during the change, which helped the captives face another long time in bondage.
The chat window was still on, and the two captives could read the audience members’ recommendations. “Let them know they’re under the silence rule, Mike! We could be checking them at any time, and we may go over the recordings to make sure they complied with the rule.”
Mike caught the message from the corner of his eye.
“Nice to know I’ve got support,” he said, flashing a congenial smile to the camera, “and it’s nice you warn our little muppets in advance. Very kind!”
The prospect of 24-hour surveillance made Brian and Lester gloomy. At least, their mouths wouldn’t hurt anymore—for a while. Mike even added to their comfort. He wrapped them in woollen blankets, which he didn’t wrap too tight. They would keep warm to make rest possible.
TBC
-
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
Chapter 18. Following a Routine
Mike took leave, but Brian and Lester could see messages that kept popping up in the chat window. Most were comments mocking their situation and hoping they would remain under strict, unrelenting discipline, so they would improve.
Their online tormentors and keepers deemed them conceited, haughty, and in need of being brought down a peg or two. Brian wondered what story Mike had sold them; the gardener’s browsing of his private files had yielded plenty of material for a tale in which Brian was the willing masochist asking for a herd of online perverts to chastise him.
He drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, the room was still dark. The last message on the screen was timed 3:45, marvelling at how angelic they looked when sleeping. Someone saw him open his eyes.
“Good morning, Brian,” a new message read, “I’ll relieve you of the silence rule for a second. I want to hear you praise us!”
Brian wondered whether it was a ruse, but another poster intervened.
“Great idea! A morning gagged concert!”
Brian complied after the posters reassured him they were playing no tricks and would report only good things to Mike.
He had to repeat endlessly, “Thanks for keeping me bound and gagged so I can’t do any mischief.” This woke Lester up, and the audience ordered him to join the chorus quickly.
The captives saw the sun rise through the window as a growing number of fans had them gag-talk. Brian and Lester needed release of all sorts. They sighed with content when they heard the gravel heralding Mike’s arrival.
“I saw you kept the lads busy,” he said, waving at the cameras. “I’m sure they love the attention. I’ll handle more down-to-earth issues!”
His prisoners didn’t want to change his good mood and so complied with all of his requirements as they went through the morning routine. The guest house had a large, modern bathroom and a kitchen that made it liveable all year round; it took Mike ninety minutes to perform various health and hygiene activities on his helpless charges.
Given the sunny weather, exercising outdoors, using the estate’s size and privacy, was advised. Their hobbles wouldn’t allow for a running pace, but Mike made sure they kept it as a high as possible.
He had dressed them in their schoolboy uniforms and gagged them accordingly with massive packing, a tight cleave, and various over-the-mouth layers of silk that seized their jaws tighter. An additional cruel knot tied it all off at the back of their heads.
They weren’t kept on a leash: Mike followed them, filming their hobbled performance and taunting them, wondering about the poll questions he would post if they didn’t show active enough. He mused on the possible punishments that could be submitted to a popular vote—which Brian and Lester now knew always went to the wildest side.
The boys puffed through their noses and grew hot. It was still early, but the goading got them moving, and they had to spend lots of energy to fight the restraints impeding their walk. It was the second day with their uniforms on, and the boys soon felt sticky and sweaty.
Mike had the lads stroll through the estate for almost an hour before he brought them back into the classroom. The prisoners had to endure a chat conversation on the benefit of exercise and ideas on how to best develop the two teenage bodies. This newfound popularity brought further distress to the two friends who were being turned into toys in the hands of unsavoury men.
The crowd had chosen how they’d spend their morning: sitting at their desks and writing a report on the last 24 hours. Mike removed their hobbles before he set them up for the assignment.
“After physical exercise comes writing. You boys should tell of how the last day in this classroom has helped you to understand behaving is key to improvement and recovery from your wretched state.”
A flurry of comments in the chat concurred.
“Focus on the most recent period. Refrain from telling of the whole training,” Mike added, looking at his pupils with an intent frown that both took as a prohibition to tell of their true condition. “And we want to hear about the positives only. Another time we may ask you to explain how difficult your training is, but now stick to the bright side.”
Mike sat them with their hands cuffed and chained so they could handle a notepad and a pen. He repeated the instructions and sat at his desk, switching the projector off, leaving the students in the dark as to their watchers’ comments.
They struggled with the stupid essay question. How could they tell they had “improved”? They were held against their will by a crew of wicked lunatics! Mike’s stern and frequent looks prevented them from spilling the beans in writing. He would read it first and find an easy way to censor their attempts at communicating with the outside.
On the other hand, their writing would be under the thorough perusal of all these men, who seemed to have no spelling issues if their long, many chat messages were to be believed.
Mike didn’t say much, but Brian couldn’t help catching glances at the headmaster; his facial expressions betrayed enthusiasm, an appreciative grin trailing a bout of typing a reply. Brian would have been content with only Mike’s creativity at work, not being bolstered by like-minded remote sadists. He had to brace for the worst.
“I’m discussing what the stakes are for your assignment, boys,” Mike said as both had managed to fill a page of inane remarks and confessions. “You’ve got half an hour to finish. I’ll collect your papers then.”
Both boys struggled to find spelling mistakes and craft a first and last sentence that would fit the bill. Once done, they watched Mike, apparently taken in an intense online discussion.
He stood up and took the notepads away. He browsed the pages quickly before he sat back at the desk.
“They’ve worked to please, gentlemen,” he praised.
He read both papers, which Brian and Lester had indeed written to please. They let their audience know how wonderful it was to be kept bound and gagged in a remote, dark classroom in the summertime. How humble, serious, and respectable they felt. Mike relished their confessing to poor behaviour he didn’t even know of. The twerps were all putty in the palm of his hand; they complied with all his whims.
Lots of satisfaction came through the chat comments. They pointed out the qualities the lads claimed they had developed. The conversation drifted quickly to keeping the momentum and making sure the improvements were ingrained. Someone talked about a ‘reinforcement stage,’ implying daily time spent in the classroom, with more learning from text before they had to provide a written output.
Brian was basking in his success when a message made his spine tingle.
“They did some learning yesterday. They never were quizzed on it, though.”
This reminder brought everyone into a frenzy. Mike soon calmed his troops, letting them know the lads would take the quiz, hoping, with his most hypocritical smile, that they wouldn’t flounder and kill the benefits of their honest essay-writing performance.
Mike equipped them with answer sheets and launched the quiz. It came after a wasted studying session, a night without fully resting sleep, and a morning of racking their brains to find stuff to fill their pages.
This time they were to fill in the blanks of the incomplete sentences that popped up on the screen. But most of the words missing were articles or pronouns, which weren’t always easy to guess. The pupils had no options offered; they were to write the word—spelled right of course.
Mike picked up the sheets; he displayed the outcome of the quiz on the wall in high definition, placing the assignments under a webcam so they would appear in huge fonts. Mike crossed each of the wrong answers in red, which jumped out of the screen. The boys also had lacked time to answer some of the most difficult puzzles in which only two words appeared, with nine blanks to fill and almost no context. The fiend intended them to fail!
Once Mike checked the fifty answers, he counted the red bars and typed the sum on his laptop.
A frame popped up on the screen: “Brian’s and Lester’s Quiz Results.”
Mike looked at the flashing messages on the screen, grinning at his captives sporadically.
“Passing Grade: 95%. You may go on with normal activities.” Brian wondered what normal in this environment meant.
“Remedial Treatment 1: 95–85%.” Brian’s brain had managed to do the math. He made six errors, which he thought was outstanding at 88%.
“Remedial Treatment 2: 85%–75%.” Lester squirmed; Brian had counted nine mistakes for his friend.
“Failing Grade: below 75%.”
Brian wasn’t surprised by the scores displayed next, only that they were not exactly fair.
“Brian: 88%, Remedial Treatment 1 – Lester: 82%, Remedial Treatment 2.”
The two bound and gagged pupils sensed from Mike’s demeanour that something was afoot, and that a whole team of perverts was working behind the scenes to make their ordeal taxing. The headmaster brought back the chat window for his charges to see.
Some members now joined in audio, meaning the boys even heard the voices of their keepers. Brian felt strongly that they thought it was all a game and that a well-intended relative was helping the boys monetize it.
The groupthink had decided that both their remedial treatments would start the same way: facing the steel poles and thoroughly trussed up to them. Their arms were tied tightly behind them. Brian’s were box-tied, forearms together, but Lester had earned a reverse-prayer tie that cruelly pinned his wrists between his shoulder blades.
Their legs were close together, their feet spread open, their insteps crushed against the steel. Straps came from the pole above their ankles, their knees, and at the top of their thighs. This didn’t bode well for their genitals, which didn’t have much space to spread and flourish. Of course, a change of gags had been requested. A quick snack and visit to the bathroom prepared them for their next trying time.
Mike used the bathroom break to clean up the lads and change their underwear and socks. He now had the requested material for the gags to come next. He stuffed in their mouths each other’s undies first, and then two stockings, one from each. A mix of tape and scarves was tested on behalf of an audience member who’d given extra support.
They were brought back to their desks, to which they were restrained for a repeat of the previous day’s lesson.
“You’ll be quizzed again at the end, but then the only passing grade is 100%. You will know the rules we designed for you by heart. We have all summer to teach you the basics, after all …”
Brian was appalled by Mike’s lies and the joy all these people derived from their failure. Would the show be of any interest to them if they had fair chances to win the competition?
And two hours went like this, with five or six pages of text scrolled down on the screen. They knew they were monitored by tattletales, so they focused on memorizing Mike’s gag manifesto.
They no longer knew how many times the twenty-four slide presentation had played, each crammed with Mike’s ramblings. A teenage computer voice read the blocks of text, the words turning bright yellow as they were pronounced.
Brian and Lester identified the areas where they’d screwed up during the first three screenings. The many more times that followed imprinted the text in their minds. When they eventually got quizzed again, after over three hours of studying, they both produced a perfect score.
Their followers gave them praise only to immediately raise the question of the failure to comply on the day before. A penalty had to be enforced with detention time. Having been entertained by Brian and Lester close to the gates for the silencing experiment, the audience decided that six hours outdoors would do the boys good.
TBC
Mike took leave, but Brian and Lester could see messages that kept popping up in the chat window. Most were comments mocking their situation and hoping they would remain under strict, unrelenting discipline, so they would improve.
Their online tormentors and keepers deemed them conceited, haughty, and in need of being brought down a peg or two. Brian wondered what story Mike had sold them; the gardener’s browsing of his private files had yielded plenty of material for a tale in which Brian was the willing masochist asking for a herd of online perverts to chastise him.
He drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, the room was still dark. The last message on the screen was timed 3:45, marvelling at how angelic they looked when sleeping. Someone saw him open his eyes.
“Good morning, Brian,” a new message read, “I’ll relieve you of the silence rule for a second. I want to hear you praise us!”
Brian wondered whether it was a ruse, but another poster intervened.
“Great idea! A morning gagged concert!”
Brian complied after the posters reassured him they were playing no tricks and would report only good things to Mike.
He had to repeat endlessly, “Thanks for keeping me bound and gagged so I can’t do any mischief.” This woke Lester up, and the audience ordered him to join the chorus quickly.
The captives saw the sun rise through the window as a growing number of fans had them gag-talk. Brian and Lester needed release of all sorts. They sighed with content when they heard the gravel heralding Mike’s arrival.
“I saw you kept the lads busy,” he said, waving at the cameras. “I’m sure they love the attention. I’ll handle more down-to-earth issues!”
His prisoners didn’t want to change his good mood and so complied with all of his requirements as they went through the morning routine. The guest house had a large, modern bathroom and a kitchen that made it liveable all year round; it took Mike ninety minutes to perform various health and hygiene activities on his helpless charges.
Given the sunny weather, exercising outdoors, using the estate’s size and privacy, was advised. Their hobbles wouldn’t allow for a running pace, but Mike made sure they kept it as a high as possible.
He had dressed them in their schoolboy uniforms and gagged them accordingly with massive packing, a tight cleave, and various over-the-mouth layers of silk that seized their jaws tighter. An additional cruel knot tied it all off at the back of their heads.
They weren’t kept on a leash: Mike followed them, filming their hobbled performance and taunting them, wondering about the poll questions he would post if they didn’t show active enough. He mused on the possible punishments that could be submitted to a popular vote—which Brian and Lester now knew always went to the wildest side.
The boys puffed through their noses and grew hot. It was still early, but the goading got them moving, and they had to spend lots of energy to fight the restraints impeding their walk. It was the second day with their uniforms on, and the boys soon felt sticky and sweaty.
Mike had the lads stroll through the estate for almost an hour before he brought them back into the classroom. The prisoners had to endure a chat conversation on the benefit of exercise and ideas on how to best develop the two teenage bodies. This newfound popularity brought further distress to the two friends who were being turned into toys in the hands of unsavoury men.
The crowd had chosen how they’d spend their morning: sitting at their desks and writing a report on the last 24 hours. Mike removed their hobbles before he set them up for the assignment.
“After physical exercise comes writing. You boys should tell of how the last day in this classroom has helped you to understand behaving is key to improvement and recovery from your wretched state.”
A flurry of comments in the chat concurred.
“Focus on the most recent period. Refrain from telling of the whole training,” Mike added, looking at his pupils with an intent frown that both took as a prohibition to tell of their true condition. “And we want to hear about the positives only. Another time we may ask you to explain how difficult your training is, but now stick to the bright side.”
Mike sat them with their hands cuffed and chained so they could handle a notepad and a pen. He repeated the instructions and sat at his desk, switching the projector off, leaving the students in the dark as to their watchers’ comments.
They struggled with the stupid essay question. How could they tell they had “improved”? They were held against their will by a crew of wicked lunatics! Mike’s stern and frequent looks prevented them from spilling the beans in writing. He would read it first and find an easy way to censor their attempts at communicating with the outside.
On the other hand, their writing would be under the thorough perusal of all these men, who seemed to have no spelling issues if their long, many chat messages were to be believed.
Mike didn’t say much, but Brian couldn’t help catching glances at the headmaster; his facial expressions betrayed enthusiasm, an appreciative grin trailing a bout of typing a reply. Brian would have been content with only Mike’s creativity at work, not being bolstered by like-minded remote sadists. He had to brace for the worst.
“I’m discussing what the stakes are for your assignment, boys,” Mike said as both had managed to fill a page of inane remarks and confessions. “You’ve got half an hour to finish. I’ll collect your papers then.”
Both boys struggled to find spelling mistakes and craft a first and last sentence that would fit the bill. Once done, they watched Mike, apparently taken in an intense online discussion.
He stood up and took the notepads away. He browsed the pages quickly before he sat back at the desk.
“They’ve worked to please, gentlemen,” he praised.
He read both papers, which Brian and Lester had indeed written to please. They let their audience know how wonderful it was to be kept bound and gagged in a remote, dark classroom in the summertime. How humble, serious, and respectable they felt. Mike relished their confessing to poor behaviour he didn’t even know of. The twerps were all putty in the palm of his hand; they complied with all his whims.
Lots of satisfaction came through the chat comments. They pointed out the qualities the lads claimed they had developed. The conversation drifted quickly to keeping the momentum and making sure the improvements were ingrained. Someone talked about a ‘reinforcement stage,’ implying daily time spent in the classroom, with more learning from text before they had to provide a written output.
Brian was basking in his success when a message made his spine tingle.
“They did some learning yesterday. They never were quizzed on it, though.”
This reminder brought everyone into a frenzy. Mike soon calmed his troops, letting them know the lads would take the quiz, hoping, with his most hypocritical smile, that they wouldn’t flounder and kill the benefits of their honest essay-writing performance.
Mike equipped them with answer sheets and launched the quiz. It came after a wasted studying session, a night without fully resting sleep, and a morning of racking their brains to find stuff to fill their pages.
This time they were to fill in the blanks of the incomplete sentences that popped up on the screen. But most of the words missing were articles or pronouns, which weren’t always easy to guess. The pupils had no options offered; they were to write the word—spelled right of course.
Mike picked up the sheets; he displayed the outcome of the quiz on the wall in high definition, placing the assignments under a webcam so they would appear in huge fonts. Mike crossed each of the wrong answers in red, which jumped out of the screen. The boys also had lacked time to answer some of the most difficult puzzles in which only two words appeared, with nine blanks to fill and almost no context. The fiend intended them to fail!
Once Mike checked the fifty answers, he counted the red bars and typed the sum on his laptop.
A frame popped up on the screen: “Brian’s and Lester’s Quiz Results.”
Mike looked at the flashing messages on the screen, grinning at his captives sporadically.
“Passing Grade: 95%. You may go on with normal activities.” Brian wondered what normal in this environment meant.
“Remedial Treatment 1: 95–85%.” Brian’s brain had managed to do the math. He made six errors, which he thought was outstanding at 88%.
“Remedial Treatment 2: 85%–75%.” Lester squirmed; Brian had counted nine mistakes for his friend.
“Failing Grade: below 75%.”
Brian wasn’t surprised by the scores displayed next, only that they were not exactly fair.
“Brian: 88%, Remedial Treatment 1 – Lester: 82%, Remedial Treatment 2.”
The two bound and gagged pupils sensed from Mike’s demeanour that something was afoot, and that a whole team of perverts was working behind the scenes to make their ordeal taxing. The headmaster brought back the chat window for his charges to see.
Some members now joined in audio, meaning the boys even heard the voices of their keepers. Brian felt strongly that they thought it was all a game and that a well-intended relative was helping the boys monetize it.
The groupthink had decided that both their remedial treatments would start the same way: facing the steel poles and thoroughly trussed up to them. Their arms were tied tightly behind them. Brian’s were box-tied, forearms together, but Lester had earned a reverse-prayer tie that cruelly pinned his wrists between his shoulder blades.
Their legs were close together, their feet spread open, their insteps crushed against the steel. Straps came from the pole above their ankles, their knees, and at the top of their thighs. This didn’t bode well for their genitals, which didn’t have much space to spread and flourish. Of course, a change of gags had been requested. A quick snack and visit to the bathroom prepared them for their next trying time.
Mike used the bathroom break to clean up the lads and change their underwear and socks. He now had the requested material for the gags to come next. He stuffed in their mouths each other’s undies first, and then two stockings, one from each. A mix of tape and scarves was tested on behalf of an audience member who’d given extra support.
They were brought back to their desks, to which they were restrained for a repeat of the previous day’s lesson.
“You’ll be quizzed again at the end, but then the only passing grade is 100%. You will know the rules we designed for you by heart. We have all summer to teach you the basics, after all …”
Brian was appalled by Mike’s lies and the joy all these people derived from their failure. Would the show be of any interest to them if they had fair chances to win the competition?
And two hours went like this, with five or six pages of text scrolled down on the screen. They knew they were monitored by tattletales, so they focused on memorizing Mike’s gag manifesto.
They no longer knew how many times the twenty-four slide presentation had played, each crammed with Mike’s ramblings. A teenage computer voice read the blocks of text, the words turning bright yellow as they were pronounced.
Brian and Lester identified the areas where they’d screwed up during the first three screenings. The many more times that followed imprinted the text in their minds. When they eventually got quizzed again, after over three hours of studying, they both produced a perfect score.
Their followers gave them praise only to immediately raise the question of the failure to comply on the day before. A penalty had to be enforced with detention time. Having been entertained by Brian and Lester close to the gates for the silencing experiment, the audience decided that six hours outdoors would do the boys good.
TBC
This story is turning out great. The whole concept of being kidnapped by the gardener is so hot and then having your friend get kidnapped two was even hotter.
I’m really liking the streaming element as well. It’s added a whole new level to this already amazing story. Both boys are becoming great subs and I absolutely loved the different gags he has used on them.
Can’t wait to see what you do with the next chapter!
I’m really liking the streaming element as well. It’s added a whole new level to this already amazing story. Both boys are becoming great subs and I absolutely loved the different gags he has used on them.
Can’t wait to see what you do with the next chapter!
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Bradstick[/mention] Thanks for the comment. I'm glad Mike's devious ways please you. He's got lots of ideas to keep Brian and Lester entertained.
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
Chapter 19. Toys in the Captors’ Hands
Mike diligently put all he needed for the outing in a large rucksack. He removed Brian’s and Lester’s hefty gags and gave them the customary drink and snack. Their meal ended with a rubber pear gag inflated at medium size.
Mike had a flight case full of video equipment which he harnessed his captives to. He clipped leashes to their harness and placed the sack on the flight case. With a flick of the wrist, he set the carriage in motion.
Their ride was long but uneventful. They crossed the estate from one corner to the other, which was a solid mile in length. Thankfully, the paths were well tended and the wheels on the flight case, top notch. Mike turned to the boys, noticing the beautiful weather and filming their reaction with his phone.
Before he bound them to trees for their punishment, he set the tripods and cameras needed to turn the afternoon into a live event for Brian and Lester’s fans. Some would find the sight of two boys standing thoroughly immobilized in ropes boring, but the people financing Brian and Lester’s bondage model careers didn’t.
Speaking in a low voice and pointing to the wall just behind them, he leisurely trussed up Lester first, giving technical cues as to the knots he used or the reason for the extra turn or cinch. Brian followed. The group had decided to use ropes only and that the captives should undergo an escape challenge.
The ropework was flawless, the tree trunks being the perfect thickness to make the boys one with them, notably by welding their forearms along the wood. Mike launched the timer, leaving the screen. He ran to the nearby ward’s lodge and picked a large garden chair. He set it in front of his captives, who hadn’t moved forward with the escape in the forty-eight seconds he’d left them alone.
The gardener was talkative and relayed the group’s comments to the two Houdini apprentices. Brian felt the time flew by as Mike kept them busy. He heard voices in the distance. They grew. Mike heard them too; he stopped talking, an evil grin frozen on his lips.
The voices were loud and belonged to boys. Like the first time, obnoxious lads wanted to dominate the group’s conversation and all shouted over each other. The wind blew the wrong way for Brian and Lester to be heard: they emitted nasal sounds that would have otherwise been heard in complete silence.
Mike typed on his phone as the group faded away on the other side of the wall, leaving the breathless captives sigh at another lost opportunity. The kidnapping gardener rose from his seat. He went to the rucksack and brought out what his pupils identified right away as gagging material.
“Your fans think you’re making too much noise and that it’s too easy for you to get heard. Since it’s a detention, you should be gagged better, like last time.”
Of course, they couldn’t be left with the bearable inflatable muzzles for long! Mike changed them for compact wadding and countless layers, putting up another show for his patrons. A silk cleave, tape, and eight silk scarves for one boy and nine for the other satisfied the audience. Mike tightened the knots emphatically, pinching his prisoners’ faces under the fabric’s grip.
The outdoor moment lasted three more hours. Many passersby walked behind the captives, who never managed to get their ear. At least, the ropes yielded some slack, for Brian at least. Little by little, he’d felt the ropes encircling his wrist loosen. It gave him something to do …. Alas! When Mike warned there were only ten minutes left, the ropes still held fast. He tried harder and slid his hand through the rope circle. Having his elbow fixed to the tree allowed little motion, though.
“Well done, Brian. Two minutes to go. We’ll have a poll to see if this earns you a reward.”
The grubby man kept fiddling with his touchscreen, asking his fellow-deviants for advice. He took the chair back to the lodge before he came to release his captives from the ropes and hobble them in chains. The procession glumly headed back to the guest house, pulling the flight case back across the estate.
Mike took them back to the classroom upstairs, leaving them standing as he went to check his laptop.
“You’re lucky! You’ll be allowed to sleep lying down tonight.”
It was late and Mike was done with them for the day. Brian got to lie down, but on a hard bench, with cuffs chained to the metal and wood and ropes wrapped around his limbs at all joints.
Lester was hogtied on his desk, but Mike set a blanket over him.
Their captor left, reassuring them they were under watch and nothing bad could happen to them. The night was almost totally sleepless for both prisoners, who didn’t even dare grunting Morse code phrases, wary of being watched and listened to by their virtual abductors.
Mike was chirpy and well rested when he joined them at dawn.
“How are you, lads? I hope you slept well. You will toil today!”
His charges grunted back quizzically.
“I hear your impatience. Just do as you’re told so we don’t waste time.”
The two boys had enough of their taxing night positions and let Mike take care of their bonds without moving an ear.
The preparation routine preceded their walk back to the mansion’s big kitchen. There, under the gaze of four video cameras, Mike dressed them up in freshly received butler costumes that had been sponsored by one of their patrons.
The boys had somewhat kinky tastes themselves, but the mysterious watchers were over the top. They were dressed in tight leather pants that went down to half of their calves and boots that went just one inch above the leather garment’s bottom.
They had black satin waistcoats and white silk shirts, which enhanced their bodily curves. Mike removed the inflatable plugs, replaced them with cotton napkins, and strapped leather half-face masks that matched the costume. The chains that came with it had thick chrome-steel links that clanged when they moved.
“One first thing to learn is to be discreet. The staff shouldn’t be heard, so no metal rattling during the lesson.”
Brian and Lester froze, then pulled their limbs apart to tighten the chains and avoid any motion that would cause the metal to click.
Mike kept a camcorder at hand for the whole morning, documenting the boys tidying the kitchen, sweeping the floor and wiping it, ironing napkins and towels, cooking lunch, and then cleaning the bathrooms in the early afternoon.
Brian and Lester worked up a sweat. It was a hot summer day, and they’d toiled nonstop all morning doing chores. They would have loved a sip of fresh water.
Mike had them handle each other’s break. He filmed close-ups of each boy’s face while his friend freed his mouth, had him drink a glass of water, and eat a piece of toast before he was cruelly gagged again.
“I’m afraid wimps like you must be exhausted after such an effort. I’ll grant you some relax time. You boys behaved and may be cut some slack.”
Brian and Lester traded looks, wondering what uncomfortable position they would have to endure next. The aficionados behind their keyboards requested chair-ties. They sent pictures depicting difficult ones, with the bound characters facing the chair’s back and straddling the seat with their thighs spread open.
It wasn’t much rest; Mike satisfied all the incoming requests for three hours, getting Brian and Lester into different predicaments. He made them stand facing the back of the chair and bend at the waist with their arms pulled up, forcing them forward. He made sure the tight, gleaming pants benefitted from the camera’s angles and showed their fullness and roundness best.
He also had them straddling the chair at the front, ankles and knees bound to the front legs, their arms bound together at elbows and wrists before they were pulled behind their backs, shoulder blades resting on the top slat. This made the crotch-enhancing cut fully visible.
The two captives could at least enjoy each other’s sight, and both thought the clothing and the strict tie-ups hot. Mike praised their hard-ons, at least when his bloody cameras were on.
They were released from the chairs only to attend to Mike’s late dinner. They were back in chains, and Mike had them stroll in front of his cameras in the sexy gear. Of course, his accomplices had suggestions, which he checked on his smart phone.
The two valets had to walk one foot in front of the other. The boots had a high, yet not thin heel, which made regular steps more difficult. Mike soon beat against the table to give them the pace they had to follow.
They stopped their turn on the catwalk to tend to their domestic duties. They got a frozen dish from the freezer upon Mike’s request; Brian microwaved it while Lester set the table.
“You’re going to make a demonstration of your waiting talents. I’m sure you devious lads would love to get a full-time position as a bondage butler!”
He got a flurry of approving comments from his phone, which he read out loud.
“Some gentlemen already let me know they would gladly hire you. Aren’t you proud?”
The boys hadn’t these vocational fantasies, though Lester found it weirdly tingling to be made into a maid, of having to cater to a ruthless kidnapper, always on the lookout for a mistake that would justify a punishment. He pictured a few kidnappers whom he’d love to keep close company to.
After the cleanup and dish-washing, Mike had his models wear single gloves. The leather was the same clingy and stretchy make as the pants, polished to shine. The supple leather sheath ensnared their forearms, keeping them as one and forcing their elbows together; straps pulled tight to prevent the contraption from moving.
Having to take dainty steps in these conditions became strenuous. The boys grew tired, and before Mike told them to stop, Brian took a false step, which made him stumble. He was slow and cautious enough that he managed to recover his balance, but his misstep didn’t go unnoticed.
“Uh-oh! Your audience doesn’t like such clumsiness, Bri! We’re going to have to do something about it. For now, go on and do your best, and don’t fall if you know what’s good for you.” The ordeal went on with a request to move faster and many assessments that questioned their motivation.
After more exchanges between Mike and his contacts, all of which the captives weren’t privy to, the gardener called time for bed. They fared better that evening. Mike took them to Brian’s room. He mummified each of them in a sleep sack, wrapping three-inch-wide buckle straps around them at nine positions. He pulled them tight, which made motion impossible, but he wasn’t done: he used long and strong ropes to pin them to the mattress.
“All snug for sleepy time, aren’t you? And together, I’m the most generous friend you can have! And before I forget …”
They’d sweated in their stockings all day, their feet simmering in their tight, hot shoes. Mike deemed these too good to pass when he’d undressed them for bed, and he tied one stocking from each boy under the two pairs of nostrils, keeping them there with a wide over-the-nose silk scarf.
“You’ll enjoy each other’s company better this way, won’t you? I’ll let you rest, but I’ll be down the hall, so no funny stuff.”
Mike switched the light off and locked the door behind him. Lester and Brian grunted, conveying support as much as they could, wondering whether there was a monitoring system watching and listening. They relaxed, enjoying their relatively mild bondage, pressing their bodies together to express mutual fondness. They hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days and both soon were asleep, their regular breaths making a tiny bubble in the silk every time they exhaled.
TBC
Mike diligently put all he needed for the outing in a large rucksack. He removed Brian’s and Lester’s hefty gags and gave them the customary drink and snack. Their meal ended with a rubber pear gag inflated at medium size.
Mike had a flight case full of video equipment which he harnessed his captives to. He clipped leashes to their harness and placed the sack on the flight case. With a flick of the wrist, he set the carriage in motion.
Their ride was long but uneventful. They crossed the estate from one corner to the other, which was a solid mile in length. Thankfully, the paths were well tended and the wheels on the flight case, top notch. Mike turned to the boys, noticing the beautiful weather and filming their reaction with his phone.
Before he bound them to trees for their punishment, he set the tripods and cameras needed to turn the afternoon into a live event for Brian and Lester’s fans. Some would find the sight of two boys standing thoroughly immobilized in ropes boring, but the people financing Brian and Lester’s bondage model careers didn’t.
Speaking in a low voice and pointing to the wall just behind them, he leisurely trussed up Lester first, giving technical cues as to the knots he used or the reason for the extra turn or cinch. Brian followed. The group had decided to use ropes only and that the captives should undergo an escape challenge.
The ropework was flawless, the tree trunks being the perfect thickness to make the boys one with them, notably by welding their forearms along the wood. Mike launched the timer, leaving the screen. He ran to the nearby ward’s lodge and picked a large garden chair. He set it in front of his captives, who hadn’t moved forward with the escape in the forty-eight seconds he’d left them alone.
The gardener was talkative and relayed the group’s comments to the two Houdini apprentices. Brian felt the time flew by as Mike kept them busy. He heard voices in the distance. They grew. Mike heard them too; he stopped talking, an evil grin frozen on his lips.
The voices were loud and belonged to boys. Like the first time, obnoxious lads wanted to dominate the group’s conversation and all shouted over each other. The wind blew the wrong way for Brian and Lester to be heard: they emitted nasal sounds that would have otherwise been heard in complete silence.
Mike typed on his phone as the group faded away on the other side of the wall, leaving the breathless captives sigh at another lost opportunity. The kidnapping gardener rose from his seat. He went to the rucksack and brought out what his pupils identified right away as gagging material.
“Your fans think you’re making too much noise and that it’s too easy for you to get heard. Since it’s a detention, you should be gagged better, like last time.”
Of course, they couldn’t be left with the bearable inflatable muzzles for long! Mike changed them for compact wadding and countless layers, putting up another show for his patrons. A silk cleave, tape, and eight silk scarves for one boy and nine for the other satisfied the audience. Mike tightened the knots emphatically, pinching his prisoners’ faces under the fabric’s grip.
The outdoor moment lasted three more hours. Many passersby walked behind the captives, who never managed to get their ear. At least, the ropes yielded some slack, for Brian at least. Little by little, he’d felt the ropes encircling his wrist loosen. It gave him something to do …. Alas! When Mike warned there were only ten minutes left, the ropes still held fast. He tried harder and slid his hand through the rope circle. Having his elbow fixed to the tree allowed little motion, though.
“Well done, Brian. Two minutes to go. We’ll have a poll to see if this earns you a reward.”
The grubby man kept fiddling with his touchscreen, asking his fellow-deviants for advice. He took the chair back to the lodge before he came to release his captives from the ropes and hobble them in chains. The procession glumly headed back to the guest house, pulling the flight case back across the estate.
Mike took them back to the classroom upstairs, leaving them standing as he went to check his laptop.
“You’re lucky! You’ll be allowed to sleep lying down tonight.”
It was late and Mike was done with them for the day. Brian got to lie down, but on a hard bench, with cuffs chained to the metal and wood and ropes wrapped around his limbs at all joints.
Lester was hogtied on his desk, but Mike set a blanket over him.
Their captor left, reassuring them they were under watch and nothing bad could happen to them. The night was almost totally sleepless for both prisoners, who didn’t even dare grunting Morse code phrases, wary of being watched and listened to by their virtual abductors.
Mike was chirpy and well rested when he joined them at dawn.
“How are you, lads? I hope you slept well. You will toil today!”
His charges grunted back quizzically.
“I hear your impatience. Just do as you’re told so we don’t waste time.”
The two boys had enough of their taxing night positions and let Mike take care of their bonds without moving an ear.
The preparation routine preceded their walk back to the mansion’s big kitchen. There, under the gaze of four video cameras, Mike dressed them up in freshly received butler costumes that had been sponsored by one of their patrons.
The boys had somewhat kinky tastes themselves, but the mysterious watchers were over the top. They were dressed in tight leather pants that went down to half of their calves and boots that went just one inch above the leather garment’s bottom.
They had black satin waistcoats and white silk shirts, which enhanced their bodily curves. Mike removed the inflatable plugs, replaced them with cotton napkins, and strapped leather half-face masks that matched the costume. The chains that came with it had thick chrome-steel links that clanged when they moved.
“One first thing to learn is to be discreet. The staff shouldn’t be heard, so no metal rattling during the lesson.”
Brian and Lester froze, then pulled their limbs apart to tighten the chains and avoid any motion that would cause the metal to click.
Mike kept a camcorder at hand for the whole morning, documenting the boys tidying the kitchen, sweeping the floor and wiping it, ironing napkins and towels, cooking lunch, and then cleaning the bathrooms in the early afternoon.
Brian and Lester worked up a sweat. It was a hot summer day, and they’d toiled nonstop all morning doing chores. They would have loved a sip of fresh water.
Mike had them handle each other’s break. He filmed close-ups of each boy’s face while his friend freed his mouth, had him drink a glass of water, and eat a piece of toast before he was cruelly gagged again.
“I’m afraid wimps like you must be exhausted after such an effort. I’ll grant you some relax time. You boys behaved and may be cut some slack.”
Brian and Lester traded looks, wondering what uncomfortable position they would have to endure next. The aficionados behind their keyboards requested chair-ties. They sent pictures depicting difficult ones, with the bound characters facing the chair’s back and straddling the seat with their thighs spread open.
It wasn’t much rest; Mike satisfied all the incoming requests for three hours, getting Brian and Lester into different predicaments. He made them stand facing the back of the chair and bend at the waist with their arms pulled up, forcing them forward. He made sure the tight, gleaming pants benefitted from the camera’s angles and showed their fullness and roundness best.
He also had them straddling the chair at the front, ankles and knees bound to the front legs, their arms bound together at elbows and wrists before they were pulled behind their backs, shoulder blades resting on the top slat. This made the crotch-enhancing cut fully visible.
The two captives could at least enjoy each other’s sight, and both thought the clothing and the strict tie-ups hot. Mike praised their hard-ons, at least when his bloody cameras were on.
They were released from the chairs only to attend to Mike’s late dinner. They were back in chains, and Mike had them stroll in front of his cameras in the sexy gear. Of course, his accomplices had suggestions, which he checked on his smart phone.
The two valets had to walk one foot in front of the other. The boots had a high, yet not thin heel, which made regular steps more difficult. Mike soon beat against the table to give them the pace they had to follow.
They stopped their turn on the catwalk to tend to their domestic duties. They got a frozen dish from the freezer upon Mike’s request; Brian microwaved it while Lester set the table.
“You’re going to make a demonstration of your waiting talents. I’m sure you devious lads would love to get a full-time position as a bondage butler!”
He got a flurry of approving comments from his phone, which he read out loud.
“Some gentlemen already let me know they would gladly hire you. Aren’t you proud?”
The boys hadn’t these vocational fantasies, though Lester found it weirdly tingling to be made into a maid, of having to cater to a ruthless kidnapper, always on the lookout for a mistake that would justify a punishment. He pictured a few kidnappers whom he’d love to keep close company to.
After the cleanup and dish-washing, Mike had his models wear single gloves. The leather was the same clingy and stretchy make as the pants, polished to shine. The supple leather sheath ensnared their forearms, keeping them as one and forcing their elbows together; straps pulled tight to prevent the contraption from moving.
Having to take dainty steps in these conditions became strenuous. The boys grew tired, and before Mike told them to stop, Brian took a false step, which made him stumble. He was slow and cautious enough that he managed to recover his balance, but his misstep didn’t go unnoticed.
“Uh-oh! Your audience doesn’t like such clumsiness, Bri! We’re going to have to do something about it. For now, go on and do your best, and don’t fall if you know what’s good for you.” The ordeal went on with a request to move faster and many assessments that questioned their motivation.
After more exchanges between Mike and his contacts, all of which the captives weren’t privy to, the gardener called time for bed. They fared better that evening. Mike took them to Brian’s room. He mummified each of them in a sleep sack, wrapping three-inch-wide buckle straps around them at nine positions. He pulled them tight, which made motion impossible, but he wasn’t done: he used long and strong ropes to pin them to the mattress.
“All snug for sleepy time, aren’t you? And together, I’m the most generous friend you can have! And before I forget …”
They’d sweated in their stockings all day, their feet simmering in their tight, hot shoes. Mike deemed these too good to pass when he’d undressed them for bed, and he tied one stocking from each boy under the two pairs of nostrils, keeping them there with a wide over-the-nose silk scarf.
“You’ll enjoy each other’s company better this way, won’t you? I’ll let you rest, but I’ll be down the hall, so no funny stuff.”
Mike switched the light off and locked the door behind him. Lester and Brian grunted, conveying support as much as they could, wondering whether there was a monitoring system watching and listening. They relaxed, enjoying their relatively mild bondage, pressing their bodies together to express mutual fondness. They hadn’t gotten much sleep over the last few days and both soon were asleep, their regular breaths making a tiny bubble in the silk every time they exhaled.
TBC
That was very hot! I love the butler outfits from one his patrons. As these benefactors become more and more involved, their chance of being free becomes slimmer and slimmer and they would no doubt pay more for one them than the ransom.
Also the way they have given up fighting back is so hot. They still try and escape but only when told they can. They are so broken in after such a short time, very hot! Well done!
Also the way they have given up fighting back is so hot. They still try and escape but only when told they can. They are so broken in after such a short time, very hot! Well done!
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Bradstick[/mention] Glad you like their supporters' clothing taste !
I think our young protagonists were a fertile soil for becoming prisoners, hence their submission. Plus, Mike doesn't give them too much leeway.
I think our young protagonists were a fertile soil for becoming prisoners, hence their submission. Plus, Mike doesn't give them too much leeway.
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Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
Chapter 20. Introduced to the Training
The sun was pouring inside the bedroom when Mike pulled them out of their sleep. Brian and Lester slowly came to their senses, their captor losing no time and removing the ropes keeping the bundled-up sausages immobile on the mattress.
Mike got them standing in chains in no more than fifteen minutes. After the bathroom break, the cleaning, and a quick handgagged breakfast, the valets were put to work. Mike had them launder their school uniforms with the large sinks in the laundry room.
“Nice working conditions you’ve got, lads. A large room where you can clean up the beautiful gifts from your fans. Not everybody is this lucky.”
Although promiscuity would have been bearable, the boys wore Speedos only, the black ones that covered their buttocks in a tight, gleaming layer. They ended up doing a good job washing their clothes, which they were meant to wear for the day.
Mike had them rub and wring the clothes in the warm soapy water and watched the rinse so no suds subsided. He made sure the wringing was mild and had them hang the clothes on the lines in the courtyard behind the mansion, the space between the main building and the brick woodshed.
Five lines were stretched between two poles twelve feet apart, more than enough for their two waistcoats, shirts, shorts, stockings, and underwear. Mike’s phone beeped, several members noticing the two poles in the pictures the gardener had just uploaded.
The premises gave Mike similar ideas and he obliged, cuffing the boys’ wrists behind the poles, one at each end. He went to get more restraints.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be quick. Meditate while your clothes dry up.”
He came back with rope, which he used on their forearms and elbows, but he also had the straps he’s used overnight. They were wide and pulled the lads cruelly against the sturdy metal.
“You’re not fully protected from the sun, but it’s half your skin at least. And you won’t stay here for too long. I’ll make a video now, so please act totally desperate. Our demanding audience can judge a poor performance.”
The sun and a mild wind landed on the clothes and the boys.
Brian and Lester had to struggle in their inescapable restraints for over half an hour, their faces red and dripping with sweat.
Mike released them from the poles and had them pick their clothes and take them back for pressing. Mike wondered whether the boys knew how to use an iron. He asked them, and he got a big kick out of their honesty. They barely knew how to, which he gleefully told his paying members.
Many thought it could be a teachable moment. Mike explained the basics and had the boys set up the iron board and press their uniforms in turns. He had them set the iron at a moderate temperature to take care of the precious silk.
They gave a great performance, willing to do well and earn the respect and admiration of their fans. Mike didn’t say much, gloating inwardly at how subdued he’d gotten the boys.
They were then made to wash each other at the sinks, using a flannel, shower gel, and towels. Of course, they were to act as in a vintage softcore porn movie, which the boys did without difficulties.
They liked feeling clean, and touching each other wasn’t a punishment at all. It helped the boys discover their shared, untold feelings. They made the comforting moment last, even when they had to remove their swimwear to ensure hygiene everywhere.
Mike assisted for the dressing-up: keys were needed. He had Brian put Lester’s shoes on, which the valet did in no time. The two models soon had their sexy, kinky clothes on, feeling clean and fresh.
Their minder took them to the guest house; it was not even ten in the morning, so the community manager could set up a lesson. He would film it and send the streaming link to his group.
Brian received the care Mike’s acolytes plotted. Lester had to demonstrate he knew how to strap a boy to a chair, which he did with easy-to-use leather buckle belts. Considering his own impediments, he could get Brian into a high degree of inescapability thanks to the number of fixtures made of loops sewn together in their middle that he used to pin his friend to the frame.
He had to hood his friend’s head in leather after having applied a gag with massive silk wadding and five over-the-mouth silk scarves. The long oval ones were perfect to cup the wearer’s lower face, and the audience liked that the first gag was only a prelude.
Brian was left on his own while Mike helped Lester to develop empathy by applying a similar muzzling contraption on him, starting with packing, cleave, tape, scarves, and more tape. The leather hood was as elegant, encasing his head but for his eyes and nose. The back had a hole to accommodate the many silk knots of the scarves gagging him.
Mike seated Lester at his desk, strapping him to it. His arms were at the back, held in cuffs and chains to the desk chair. With his captives ready for their online outing, he launched the system, displaying his screen behind him for the bound pupils to see.
“For once, you won’t be the butt of people’s attention beyond this demonstration, which everyone agrees proved you worthy. One of our friends wants to join us in video: he would like to introduce his young neighbour.”
A streaming of one of the members’ webcam launched in the dedicated window. Brian recognized his pseudo, goodneighbour987654, from the chat.
The screen displayed a male figure securely bound to a chair too. The boy was between fifteen and eighteen, and his hairless legs were the result of specific care rather than young age. He had great skin, and considering he was dressed as skimpily as Lester and Brian were, his audience enjoyed the dedication at pleasing those who like their prisoners in the buff.
He was taped to a chair, which shone a bright grey and didn’t seem to move. His Speedos were green and his hair colour unknown, a swimming cap hiding his hair. His eyes were blue, and he had long eyelashes, which the close-ups later on confirmed to Brian.
The young man’s head was pinned to the back of his seat. The tightness of the tape rings encasing his limbs made his naked flesh bulge.
A man spoke. Brian wasn’t surprised when he saw him for real later on; he fitted his voice and the persona.
“Let me introduce Sebastian; he’s asked me to see to it that he would behave. I’ve known him for ten years now; he’s my next-door neighbour. On his fifteenth birthday, I caught him playing a tie-up game with a school friend in the backyard. You see, I have an astronomy lens in the attic on the fourth floor. Yes, my house is big. From there, I have a bird’s eye view on at least five houses. I never brag about it, but I’m almost invisible when I use the telescope. I have two, one that’s more adequate to spy on neighbours.”
Brian and Lester were appalled, but the voice went on. The bound boy fidgeted, though not much. His gagged moans sounded orderly, in reply to his captor’s prompts.
“It’s always entertaining seeing dumb teenagers in action, doing stupid things that thankfully most of the time don’t end up at the ER. Kids in the twelve to sixteen-year-old age range live in five houses within sight. Young Sebastian that you see here moved into the house behind mine over a decade ago. His parents are busy with work and often away, but he’s got friends in the neighbourhood whom he’s played with from early on. The similarities in age and social background helped develop a small community of kids who’re always out, playing ball or riding their bikes and hanging out at each other’s playing video games.”
This guy sounded like a first-class stalker, and a creepy one at this.
“He was thirteen when I saw him playing with his cousin, whom he bound to a tree. It didn’t last, and the younger boy, ten at most, was freed. He returned the favour, but Sebastian seemed to protest heavily. I have a cannon microphone to record birds, and I pointed it at the two boys a hundred yards away and thirty feet down from me. The boy wasn’t nagging about being bound; he was telling the other kid how to tie him up so he wouldn’t escape. Sebastian had other adventures, especially with another boy from the neighbourhood, two houses away.”
The voice paused. Onscreen, the bound boy visibly twitched.
“Keith was his age, a few months younger maybe. When I first spotted them, they were going from one house to the other using the back lanes. Keith had Sebastian on a leash. The boy he dragged behind was bound, gagged, and hobbled. Keith took him into his garden, where he tied him up to a tree.”
Brian had mixed feelings about this neighbour, who kept a low voice and a kind tone.
“I caught many more of their games over the following summer, though they had no idea I’d seen so many. These kids seemed to have fun. A couple years later, Keith’s parents moved out; it was only temporary, but Sebastian was left without a tie-up partner. He improved with self-bondage techniques, as I could notice when he performed a tree-tie outdoors. On a Saturday morning, I met him as he left on his bike for a music lesson. We made small talk, but I soon pointed to the red marks around his wrists. He blushed, and I mentioned Keith and that I had—fortuitously—witnessed one of their games. I added I didn’t mind, and that it wasn’t an unusual paraphilia.”
The camera zoomed on just the head and chest of the prisoner. The audience could see better his big, astounded eyes and the muzzle’s fine crafting.
“One week later, my next door’s teenage boy rang at my door, having eventually worked up the strength to make an offer. This is how he stated it, though I let him know he was making a request, not an offer. He seemed puzzled but stayed silent. I looked at him, and he didn’t know what to think. I let him simmer for a couple minutes. I told him I could tie him up, but that if he got better at escaping, then I would need to get better at restraining. Improvement would mean tighter and stricter tie-ups. His eye glimmered, and he let me know that we could have a game on that very same day. I agreed to have him come over and prepared to give the young man a time he wouldn’t forget.”
The man’s self-righteousness made the captive boys sick.
“You didn’t, did you?”
The gagged boy grunted twice: he hadn’t forgotten. Mr. Chatham’s following narrative was too quick and didn’t do his memory’s justice. Sebastian had discovered a peculiar appetence for being bound and gagged around the age of ten. He’d experimented while using his laptop to explore his weird taste for boys who got abducted.
The first afternoon at his neighbour’s was an epiphany. He’d done tons of tie-ups with Keith, his cousins, or some of his swimming teammates. The neighbour had given him a full-fledged kidnapping experience, a high Sebastian had never reached thus far.
He’d emailed his neighbour five times the following week, explaining how he’d felt and imagining situations in which he would be a helpless kidnap victim, kept out of sight, bound and gagged, by unsavoury characters who needed the meddler to keep his trap shut for a few days to get their criminal activities to succeed, or the son of a wealthy business owner abducted for ransom.
Once or twice a month, Mr. Chatham replied, letting him know of the weekends he was available to monitor the boy’s tie-up games. He requested that he make an excuse for his absence, so his parents wouldn’t question his tastes and peculiar leisure activities. This led them to the summer, when Mr. Chatham was on vacation as well. Though they never ran games overnight, Sebastian spent many afternoons, and even nine-to-five periods, trussed up to a chair or bound to a tree in blind spots of Mr. Chatham’s garden.
In the fall, Sebastian signed up for a theatre club. Mr. Chatham helped with the ruse, assisting in designing the fake literature and registration form that would fool Sebastian’s parents. He even had a company set up that collected the fees monthly for Sebastian’s alleged cultural development.
Of course, the club had workshops during the school holidays, which would involve being away for up to a week. His parents were delighted and glad their broody, lanky teenager was interested in a positive hobby.
TBC
The sun was pouring inside the bedroom when Mike pulled them out of their sleep. Brian and Lester slowly came to their senses, their captor losing no time and removing the ropes keeping the bundled-up sausages immobile on the mattress.
Mike got them standing in chains in no more than fifteen minutes. After the bathroom break, the cleaning, and a quick handgagged breakfast, the valets were put to work. Mike had them launder their school uniforms with the large sinks in the laundry room.
“Nice working conditions you’ve got, lads. A large room where you can clean up the beautiful gifts from your fans. Not everybody is this lucky.”
Although promiscuity would have been bearable, the boys wore Speedos only, the black ones that covered their buttocks in a tight, gleaming layer. They ended up doing a good job washing their clothes, which they were meant to wear for the day.
Mike had them rub and wring the clothes in the warm soapy water and watched the rinse so no suds subsided. He made sure the wringing was mild and had them hang the clothes on the lines in the courtyard behind the mansion, the space between the main building and the brick woodshed.
Five lines were stretched between two poles twelve feet apart, more than enough for their two waistcoats, shirts, shorts, stockings, and underwear. Mike’s phone beeped, several members noticing the two poles in the pictures the gardener had just uploaded.
The premises gave Mike similar ideas and he obliged, cuffing the boys’ wrists behind the poles, one at each end. He went to get more restraints.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be quick. Meditate while your clothes dry up.”
He came back with rope, which he used on their forearms and elbows, but he also had the straps he’s used overnight. They were wide and pulled the lads cruelly against the sturdy metal.
“You’re not fully protected from the sun, but it’s half your skin at least. And you won’t stay here for too long. I’ll make a video now, so please act totally desperate. Our demanding audience can judge a poor performance.”
The sun and a mild wind landed on the clothes and the boys.
Brian and Lester had to struggle in their inescapable restraints for over half an hour, their faces red and dripping with sweat.
Mike released them from the poles and had them pick their clothes and take them back for pressing. Mike wondered whether the boys knew how to use an iron. He asked them, and he got a big kick out of their honesty. They barely knew how to, which he gleefully told his paying members.
Many thought it could be a teachable moment. Mike explained the basics and had the boys set up the iron board and press their uniforms in turns. He had them set the iron at a moderate temperature to take care of the precious silk.
They gave a great performance, willing to do well and earn the respect and admiration of their fans. Mike didn’t say much, gloating inwardly at how subdued he’d gotten the boys.
They were then made to wash each other at the sinks, using a flannel, shower gel, and towels. Of course, they were to act as in a vintage softcore porn movie, which the boys did without difficulties.
They liked feeling clean, and touching each other wasn’t a punishment at all. It helped the boys discover their shared, untold feelings. They made the comforting moment last, even when they had to remove their swimwear to ensure hygiene everywhere.
Mike assisted for the dressing-up: keys were needed. He had Brian put Lester’s shoes on, which the valet did in no time. The two models soon had their sexy, kinky clothes on, feeling clean and fresh.
Their minder took them to the guest house; it was not even ten in the morning, so the community manager could set up a lesson. He would film it and send the streaming link to his group.
Brian received the care Mike’s acolytes plotted. Lester had to demonstrate he knew how to strap a boy to a chair, which he did with easy-to-use leather buckle belts. Considering his own impediments, he could get Brian into a high degree of inescapability thanks to the number of fixtures made of loops sewn together in their middle that he used to pin his friend to the frame.
He had to hood his friend’s head in leather after having applied a gag with massive silk wadding and five over-the-mouth silk scarves. The long oval ones were perfect to cup the wearer’s lower face, and the audience liked that the first gag was only a prelude.
Brian was left on his own while Mike helped Lester to develop empathy by applying a similar muzzling contraption on him, starting with packing, cleave, tape, scarves, and more tape. The leather hood was as elegant, encasing his head but for his eyes and nose. The back had a hole to accommodate the many silk knots of the scarves gagging him.
Mike seated Lester at his desk, strapping him to it. His arms were at the back, held in cuffs and chains to the desk chair. With his captives ready for their online outing, he launched the system, displaying his screen behind him for the bound pupils to see.
“For once, you won’t be the butt of people’s attention beyond this demonstration, which everyone agrees proved you worthy. One of our friends wants to join us in video: he would like to introduce his young neighbour.”
A streaming of one of the members’ webcam launched in the dedicated window. Brian recognized his pseudo, goodneighbour987654, from the chat.
The screen displayed a male figure securely bound to a chair too. The boy was between fifteen and eighteen, and his hairless legs were the result of specific care rather than young age. He had great skin, and considering he was dressed as skimpily as Lester and Brian were, his audience enjoyed the dedication at pleasing those who like their prisoners in the buff.
He was taped to a chair, which shone a bright grey and didn’t seem to move. His Speedos were green and his hair colour unknown, a swimming cap hiding his hair. His eyes were blue, and he had long eyelashes, which the close-ups later on confirmed to Brian.
The young man’s head was pinned to the back of his seat. The tightness of the tape rings encasing his limbs made his naked flesh bulge.
A man spoke. Brian wasn’t surprised when he saw him for real later on; he fitted his voice and the persona.
“Let me introduce Sebastian; he’s asked me to see to it that he would behave. I’ve known him for ten years now; he’s my next-door neighbour. On his fifteenth birthday, I caught him playing a tie-up game with a school friend in the backyard. You see, I have an astronomy lens in the attic on the fourth floor. Yes, my house is big. From there, I have a bird’s eye view on at least five houses. I never brag about it, but I’m almost invisible when I use the telescope. I have two, one that’s more adequate to spy on neighbours.”
Brian and Lester were appalled, but the voice went on. The bound boy fidgeted, though not much. His gagged moans sounded orderly, in reply to his captor’s prompts.
“It’s always entertaining seeing dumb teenagers in action, doing stupid things that thankfully most of the time don’t end up at the ER. Kids in the twelve to sixteen-year-old age range live in five houses within sight. Young Sebastian that you see here moved into the house behind mine over a decade ago. His parents are busy with work and often away, but he’s got friends in the neighbourhood whom he’s played with from early on. The similarities in age and social background helped develop a small community of kids who’re always out, playing ball or riding their bikes and hanging out at each other’s playing video games.”
This guy sounded like a first-class stalker, and a creepy one at this.
“He was thirteen when I saw him playing with his cousin, whom he bound to a tree. It didn’t last, and the younger boy, ten at most, was freed. He returned the favour, but Sebastian seemed to protest heavily. I have a cannon microphone to record birds, and I pointed it at the two boys a hundred yards away and thirty feet down from me. The boy wasn’t nagging about being bound; he was telling the other kid how to tie him up so he wouldn’t escape. Sebastian had other adventures, especially with another boy from the neighbourhood, two houses away.”
The voice paused. Onscreen, the bound boy visibly twitched.
“Keith was his age, a few months younger maybe. When I first spotted them, they were going from one house to the other using the back lanes. Keith had Sebastian on a leash. The boy he dragged behind was bound, gagged, and hobbled. Keith took him into his garden, where he tied him up to a tree.”
Brian had mixed feelings about this neighbour, who kept a low voice and a kind tone.
“I caught many more of their games over the following summer, though they had no idea I’d seen so many. These kids seemed to have fun. A couple years later, Keith’s parents moved out; it was only temporary, but Sebastian was left without a tie-up partner. He improved with self-bondage techniques, as I could notice when he performed a tree-tie outdoors. On a Saturday morning, I met him as he left on his bike for a music lesson. We made small talk, but I soon pointed to the red marks around his wrists. He blushed, and I mentioned Keith and that I had—fortuitously—witnessed one of their games. I added I didn’t mind, and that it wasn’t an unusual paraphilia.”
The camera zoomed on just the head and chest of the prisoner. The audience could see better his big, astounded eyes and the muzzle’s fine crafting.
“One week later, my next door’s teenage boy rang at my door, having eventually worked up the strength to make an offer. This is how he stated it, though I let him know he was making a request, not an offer. He seemed puzzled but stayed silent. I looked at him, and he didn’t know what to think. I let him simmer for a couple minutes. I told him I could tie him up, but that if he got better at escaping, then I would need to get better at restraining. Improvement would mean tighter and stricter tie-ups. His eye glimmered, and he let me know that we could have a game on that very same day. I agreed to have him come over and prepared to give the young man a time he wouldn’t forget.”
The man’s self-righteousness made the captive boys sick.
“You didn’t, did you?”
The gagged boy grunted twice: he hadn’t forgotten. Mr. Chatham’s following narrative was too quick and didn’t do his memory’s justice. Sebastian had discovered a peculiar appetence for being bound and gagged around the age of ten. He’d experimented while using his laptop to explore his weird taste for boys who got abducted.
The first afternoon at his neighbour’s was an epiphany. He’d done tons of tie-ups with Keith, his cousins, or some of his swimming teammates. The neighbour had given him a full-fledged kidnapping experience, a high Sebastian had never reached thus far.
He’d emailed his neighbour five times the following week, explaining how he’d felt and imagining situations in which he would be a helpless kidnap victim, kept out of sight, bound and gagged, by unsavoury characters who needed the meddler to keep his trap shut for a few days to get their criminal activities to succeed, or the son of a wealthy business owner abducted for ransom.
Once or twice a month, Mr. Chatham replied, letting him know of the weekends he was available to monitor the boy’s tie-up games. He requested that he make an excuse for his absence, so his parents wouldn’t question his tastes and peculiar leisure activities. This led them to the summer, when Mr. Chatham was on vacation as well. Though they never ran games overnight, Sebastian spent many afternoons, and even nine-to-five periods, trussed up to a chair or bound to a tree in blind spots of Mr. Chatham’s garden.
In the fall, Sebastian signed up for a theatre club. Mr. Chatham helped with the ruse, assisting in designing the fake literature and registration form that would fool Sebastian’s parents. He even had a company set up that collected the fees monthly for Sebastian’s alleged cultural development.
Of course, the club had workshops during the school holidays, which would involve being away for up to a week. His parents were delighted and glad their broody, lanky teenager was interested in a positive hobby.
TBC
I’m liking the new character, can’t wait to see what role he will play later on.
-
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Bradstick[/mention] Time to find out what two devious minds may bring to this situation.
Chapter 21. A Lucky Boy
On the first September weekend, Sebastian’s parents were also going away to visit relatives; they would be back on Sunday evening, and Sebastian had let Mr. Chatham know. The boy was kept a prisoner for twenty-four hours straight, from early Saturday afternoon until a couple of hours before his parents were back.
Mr. Chatham submitted his captive to different escape challenges, which Sebastian all failed. Although he’d developed some escaping skills, Mr. Chatham had also improved: his ropework was tighter, more consistent, and less prone to errors. He also added other restraints such as cuffs and chains, which meant release was only possible with a key, which Mr. Chatham always made sure to place out of reach.
The year flew by. Sebastian enjoyed his time spent with his mentor more and more. As summer approached, their plan turned into a three-week-long summer camp. It would take place next door, of course, which added to the thrill of a long captivity.
Before he left, his mom greeted him, sexily clad in his track suit. She gave him a peck on the cheek and admired her grown-up, seventeen-year-old son.
Half an hour later, Sebastian squirmed in a tight hogtie on Mr. Chatham’s rug. He’d gotten ‘caught’ trespassing and his cranky neighbour was set on having him pay for his misdemeanour. He would get detention and have to spend time thinking about his misdeed and do community service. Mr. Chatham chained him up in the afternoon and had him tidy the house and clean, which was a novelty.
His instructor was strict and picky; he had to redo the floor wiping because Mr. Chatham noticed stains that should have been cleaned. He threatened to treat Sebastian with a taxing tie-up if he didn’t perform to requirements. The boy would have loved to ask about this punishment or explained he’d done his best, but his captor had had him gagged since his arrival: the scarf ball in his mouth and the copious lengths of tape keeping it made any sound low enough to be undetected from the outside.
The young man remained focused, watching each tile in detail to be sure if had no smudge or dirt visible. His work pleased his employer; he spent the evening strapped to a wheelchair, a novelty Mr. Chatham had introduced him to proudly.
“For long-term detention, I don’t have to release my captive to move him around. It’s quite handy, don’t you think?”
“Mmmrphmm!” Sebastian replied.
Mr. Chatham blindfolded him with a black leather mask for hours during the day, so he could know only of what he heard. Sebastian was used to his neighbour’s habits, and he had often spent the afternoon bound, gagged, and ignored. Of course, keeping him prisoner longer required attention to basic physiological needs and some time out of bonds. Mr. Chatham made these moments as short as possible when he’d kept him for twenty-four hours, but he’d decided to make them even shorter this summer.
The resourceful neighbour had acquired a head harness that locked itself, which he used on top of the gags silencing his victim to ensure silence inside the bathroom. His hands cuffed in front and timed, Sebastian wasn’t allowed to dawdle, though. He performed his hygiene tasks quickly.
When it came to feeding, Mr. Chatham used a baby bottle featuring a teat sized for a grown-up. Sebastian had to swallow sweet, lukewarm porridge, which did the job of filling his tummy and preventing hunger.
Mr. Chatham locked up Sebastian’s wheelchair inside the kitchen pantry for a couple hours after breakfast. Then he took the boy to his office. At the back, in front of the brightly lit white wall, a sturdy chair awaited, coils of rope at its feet. Mr. Chatham proved he’d learned from months of practice, and despite Sebastian proving as difficult as his role required, he kept control of his captive the whole time.
A large screen was set on the desk turned towards Sebastian’s chair. Mr. Chatham sat behind the desk and opened his laptop. Its desktop appeared on the large display. He launched a browsing window and got to a website where he entered his credentials before a video window showed up. Sebastian’s attention was caught immediately by the two young men ironing silk clothing; they were dressed in Speedos only, gagged and chained as he was.
Mr. Chatham chatted on one side of the screen. Many men—they had to all be males—discussed the chained maids’ performance; Sebastian recognized goodneighbour987654, Mr. Chatham’s handle when he emailed or chatted for their confidential activities. “Good, they did a good job, or we’d have asked Mike to make sure they couldn’t move a limb and keep them gagged and possibly blindfolded or ear-plugged.”
Mr. Chatham should have picked strictheadmaster as his handle instead: he liked discipline, and Sebastian wondered how much of this kind of roleplay he would be submitted to. For now, the boys were done ironing and washed each other. Sebastian confirmed to himself how gay he was, as the display of fresh skin being soaped and dried made him long to touch and smell it.
The walk showed the boys dressed up in flimsy, shiny clothing, which gleamed in the bright sun; the shorts showed as much thighs as the Speedos, which made the walk pleasant to watch. And getting from the laundry room to the small house at the other end of a huge park took over fifteen minutes, providing handsome bums to watch.
One of the boys had to strap his friend to a desk in an old-fashioned classroom. The setup was enough to stimulate Sebastian: the bench, the desks, and the poles were all meant to welcome trussed-up guests. The first demonstration didn’t disappoint him. The black-haired boy was wiry and muscular, and he tightened the straps showing off a little, looking at the camera every once in a while.
Sebastian could relate to these young men and was glad Mr. Chatham surprised him with this show. Mr. Chatham stood from his desk and set a tripod with a camera four feet in front of Sebastian. He framed the picture carefully and tightened the tripod.
“You’ve met boys who share your interest. It’s only fair they get to know you, don’t you think?”
The pic of the boys bound to their desks was replaced by Sebastian’s bound body, the thick gag covering his lower face, and the harness keeping the whole foundation tidy. Would it be enough to preserve his identity?
The man rambled on about Sebastian, telling the story of a misunderstood boy who had to find assistance to overcome his issues. Mr. Chatham’s unctuous tone was contrasted by the comments of the people following the stream. “Give him what he wants and keep him locked in a cell for two weeks!” “If he likes being bound and gagged, how do you punish him if he misbehaves?”
Sebastian saw the men’s points, yet was shaken by their willingness to make a boy’s captivity an unpleasant experience.
“Sebastian will be my guest for three weeks, then. I’ll be grateful if you give advice and take part in watching my prisoner for safety reasons. I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t want to hog too much attention away from Brian and Lester, who’ve almost completed their time themselves.”
Ninety-five miles away, Brian and Lester heard of their release for the first time. The obnoxious speaker yielded the floor to Mike.
“Glad to hear about Sebastian’s story, Severin. I’m sure you’ll share interesting and educational moments with him during the coming weeks. I, for one, will be glad to monitor his training as my schedule allows. He looks like a young man who may benefit from our group’s resources and methods. I take that Brian and Lester are proud to be entrusted with their peer’s story.”
The two boys hadn’t minded not being the focus of attention, and they enjoyed the break, watching Sebastian on his chair and listening to the creepy voice telling of his leanings. Brian wondered whether the story was true. Could he be an abduction victim as they were, one that their sadistic captor showed off, having made sure he couldn’t convey his actual distress?
It was the fate Brian had to undergo: along with his classmate, he was walked around in front of cameras as if he’d chosen to be here himself. Mike told of some ‘final assessment’ that had to take place over their two final days before they went home—the official story. He whispered in the boys’ ears that they would stay instead but enjoy a more leisurely time, not being watched all the time, and that they would be treated kindly if the two days in front of the cameras they had to endure went without a glitch.
They spent the afternoon performing chair-ties with ropes. A chair stood on the podium facing the cameras, and the schoolboys had to rope their classmate tightly, which was no small feat with cuffed hands, even with five inches of chain giving some slack.
They did great, Mike rejoicing about their eagerness. His whole scheme worked perfectly. He could still hold them for ransom, of course, but why wouldn’t he recruit them for a long-term collaboration, if they liked making a show out of their hobby? He took close-ups of their skilful knots.
The evening got them a taste of what other members of this bloody group could fancy. The platform became a catwalk for Brian and Lester to model kinky outfits: shorts, thongs, boxers, and pants of all lengths and makes, provided they shone and hugged their bodies. Some outfits had tops and most had frills and laces that contrasted with their cuts, which definitely stated they were males.
Mike would never have thought of such fancy, demeaning costumes for the wenches, but he delighted in having them parade muzzled, hobbled, and forced to prove willingness. The event lasted hours, but the gardener didn’t get bored and showed as much passion to change one of the models’ clothes while the other walked back and forth on the podium, paying attention to the instructions through chat on the wall: “Wiggle your arse more!” “Raise you knee higher when you take a step.” The boys complied, Mike taking glances at the boy modelling and taunting him if he didn’t show ‘poise.’
Being put on display while having to keep a pleasant front was humiliating for the boys. The gags helped, but the bastards on the other end could detect a lack of enthusiasm even if they couldn’t see the lads’ lower faces. They voiced their demands, and Mike admonished his charges to please the wicked men.
They performed a last time, both dressed in silky, sissy outfit that hugged their bodies and enhanced their curves with purple or pink reflections. The comments were moderate, but they quickly piled to suggest they keep their costumes on and get tied to the poles. No one seemed willing to give them a pass for the lack of stamina over the last hour, and they all rejoiced at the prospect of the two models undergoing disciplining.
Mike took particular care to wrap the two lads in rope with symmetry and balance, making the poufy costumes stand out. The twink bodies fared well in this light. He replaced the inflatable gags with the mouth corsets that came with the outfits.
The contraptions wrapped the boys’ throats and chins, all the way under their nostrils. They were made of satin, with reinforcement or boning inside—thin, flexible slats which could be plastic or metal. Mike stuck a simple silk ball inside their mouths and added a rectangle of Elastoplast to seal their lips. Then he pulled the laces at the back so the satin gripped the captives’ mouths and throats.
“No chatting. This will prevent you from talking all night.”
TBC
Chapter 21. A Lucky Boy
On the first September weekend, Sebastian’s parents were also going away to visit relatives; they would be back on Sunday evening, and Sebastian had let Mr. Chatham know. The boy was kept a prisoner for twenty-four hours straight, from early Saturday afternoon until a couple of hours before his parents were back.
Mr. Chatham submitted his captive to different escape challenges, which Sebastian all failed. Although he’d developed some escaping skills, Mr. Chatham had also improved: his ropework was tighter, more consistent, and less prone to errors. He also added other restraints such as cuffs and chains, which meant release was only possible with a key, which Mr. Chatham always made sure to place out of reach.
The year flew by. Sebastian enjoyed his time spent with his mentor more and more. As summer approached, their plan turned into a three-week-long summer camp. It would take place next door, of course, which added to the thrill of a long captivity.
Before he left, his mom greeted him, sexily clad in his track suit. She gave him a peck on the cheek and admired her grown-up, seventeen-year-old son.
Half an hour later, Sebastian squirmed in a tight hogtie on Mr. Chatham’s rug. He’d gotten ‘caught’ trespassing and his cranky neighbour was set on having him pay for his misdemeanour. He would get detention and have to spend time thinking about his misdeed and do community service. Mr. Chatham chained him up in the afternoon and had him tidy the house and clean, which was a novelty.
His instructor was strict and picky; he had to redo the floor wiping because Mr. Chatham noticed stains that should have been cleaned. He threatened to treat Sebastian with a taxing tie-up if he didn’t perform to requirements. The boy would have loved to ask about this punishment or explained he’d done his best, but his captor had had him gagged since his arrival: the scarf ball in his mouth and the copious lengths of tape keeping it made any sound low enough to be undetected from the outside.
The young man remained focused, watching each tile in detail to be sure if had no smudge or dirt visible. His work pleased his employer; he spent the evening strapped to a wheelchair, a novelty Mr. Chatham had introduced him to proudly.
“For long-term detention, I don’t have to release my captive to move him around. It’s quite handy, don’t you think?”
“Mmmrphmm!” Sebastian replied.
Mr. Chatham blindfolded him with a black leather mask for hours during the day, so he could know only of what he heard. Sebastian was used to his neighbour’s habits, and he had often spent the afternoon bound, gagged, and ignored. Of course, keeping him prisoner longer required attention to basic physiological needs and some time out of bonds. Mr. Chatham made these moments as short as possible when he’d kept him for twenty-four hours, but he’d decided to make them even shorter this summer.
The resourceful neighbour had acquired a head harness that locked itself, which he used on top of the gags silencing his victim to ensure silence inside the bathroom. His hands cuffed in front and timed, Sebastian wasn’t allowed to dawdle, though. He performed his hygiene tasks quickly.
When it came to feeding, Mr. Chatham used a baby bottle featuring a teat sized for a grown-up. Sebastian had to swallow sweet, lukewarm porridge, which did the job of filling his tummy and preventing hunger.
Mr. Chatham locked up Sebastian’s wheelchair inside the kitchen pantry for a couple hours after breakfast. Then he took the boy to his office. At the back, in front of the brightly lit white wall, a sturdy chair awaited, coils of rope at its feet. Mr. Chatham proved he’d learned from months of practice, and despite Sebastian proving as difficult as his role required, he kept control of his captive the whole time.
A large screen was set on the desk turned towards Sebastian’s chair. Mr. Chatham sat behind the desk and opened his laptop. Its desktop appeared on the large display. He launched a browsing window and got to a website where he entered his credentials before a video window showed up. Sebastian’s attention was caught immediately by the two young men ironing silk clothing; they were dressed in Speedos only, gagged and chained as he was.
Mr. Chatham chatted on one side of the screen. Many men—they had to all be males—discussed the chained maids’ performance; Sebastian recognized goodneighbour987654, Mr. Chatham’s handle when he emailed or chatted for their confidential activities. “Good, they did a good job, or we’d have asked Mike to make sure they couldn’t move a limb and keep them gagged and possibly blindfolded or ear-plugged.”
Mr. Chatham should have picked strictheadmaster as his handle instead: he liked discipline, and Sebastian wondered how much of this kind of roleplay he would be submitted to. For now, the boys were done ironing and washed each other. Sebastian confirmed to himself how gay he was, as the display of fresh skin being soaped and dried made him long to touch and smell it.
The walk showed the boys dressed up in flimsy, shiny clothing, which gleamed in the bright sun; the shorts showed as much thighs as the Speedos, which made the walk pleasant to watch. And getting from the laundry room to the small house at the other end of a huge park took over fifteen minutes, providing handsome bums to watch.
One of the boys had to strap his friend to a desk in an old-fashioned classroom. The setup was enough to stimulate Sebastian: the bench, the desks, and the poles were all meant to welcome trussed-up guests. The first demonstration didn’t disappoint him. The black-haired boy was wiry and muscular, and he tightened the straps showing off a little, looking at the camera every once in a while.
Sebastian could relate to these young men and was glad Mr. Chatham surprised him with this show. Mr. Chatham stood from his desk and set a tripod with a camera four feet in front of Sebastian. He framed the picture carefully and tightened the tripod.
“You’ve met boys who share your interest. It’s only fair they get to know you, don’t you think?”
The pic of the boys bound to their desks was replaced by Sebastian’s bound body, the thick gag covering his lower face, and the harness keeping the whole foundation tidy. Would it be enough to preserve his identity?
The man rambled on about Sebastian, telling the story of a misunderstood boy who had to find assistance to overcome his issues. Mr. Chatham’s unctuous tone was contrasted by the comments of the people following the stream. “Give him what he wants and keep him locked in a cell for two weeks!” “If he likes being bound and gagged, how do you punish him if he misbehaves?”
Sebastian saw the men’s points, yet was shaken by their willingness to make a boy’s captivity an unpleasant experience.
“Sebastian will be my guest for three weeks, then. I’ll be grateful if you give advice and take part in watching my prisoner for safety reasons. I’m sure Sebastian doesn’t want to hog too much attention away from Brian and Lester, who’ve almost completed their time themselves.”
Ninety-five miles away, Brian and Lester heard of their release for the first time. The obnoxious speaker yielded the floor to Mike.
“Glad to hear about Sebastian’s story, Severin. I’m sure you’ll share interesting and educational moments with him during the coming weeks. I, for one, will be glad to monitor his training as my schedule allows. He looks like a young man who may benefit from our group’s resources and methods. I take that Brian and Lester are proud to be entrusted with their peer’s story.”
The two boys hadn’t minded not being the focus of attention, and they enjoyed the break, watching Sebastian on his chair and listening to the creepy voice telling of his leanings. Brian wondered whether the story was true. Could he be an abduction victim as they were, one that their sadistic captor showed off, having made sure he couldn’t convey his actual distress?
It was the fate Brian had to undergo: along with his classmate, he was walked around in front of cameras as if he’d chosen to be here himself. Mike told of some ‘final assessment’ that had to take place over their two final days before they went home—the official story. He whispered in the boys’ ears that they would stay instead but enjoy a more leisurely time, not being watched all the time, and that they would be treated kindly if the two days in front of the cameras they had to endure went without a glitch.
They spent the afternoon performing chair-ties with ropes. A chair stood on the podium facing the cameras, and the schoolboys had to rope their classmate tightly, which was no small feat with cuffed hands, even with five inches of chain giving some slack.
They did great, Mike rejoicing about their eagerness. His whole scheme worked perfectly. He could still hold them for ransom, of course, but why wouldn’t he recruit them for a long-term collaboration, if they liked making a show out of their hobby? He took close-ups of their skilful knots.
The evening got them a taste of what other members of this bloody group could fancy. The platform became a catwalk for Brian and Lester to model kinky outfits: shorts, thongs, boxers, and pants of all lengths and makes, provided they shone and hugged their bodies. Some outfits had tops and most had frills and laces that contrasted with their cuts, which definitely stated they were males.
Mike would never have thought of such fancy, demeaning costumes for the wenches, but he delighted in having them parade muzzled, hobbled, and forced to prove willingness. The event lasted hours, but the gardener didn’t get bored and showed as much passion to change one of the models’ clothes while the other walked back and forth on the podium, paying attention to the instructions through chat on the wall: “Wiggle your arse more!” “Raise you knee higher when you take a step.” The boys complied, Mike taking glances at the boy modelling and taunting him if he didn’t show ‘poise.’
Being put on display while having to keep a pleasant front was humiliating for the boys. The gags helped, but the bastards on the other end could detect a lack of enthusiasm even if they couldn’t see the lads’ lower faces. They voiced their demands, and Mike admonished his charges to please the wicked men.
They performed a last time, both dressed in silky, sissy outfit that hugged their bodies and enhanced their curves with purple or pink reflections. The comments were moderate, but they quickly piled to suggest they keep their costumes on and get tied to the poles. No one seemed willing to give them a pass for the lack of stamina over the last hour, and they all rejoiced at the prospect of the two models undergoing disciplining.
Mike took particular care to wrap the two lads in rope with symmetry and balance, making the poufy costumes stand out. The twink bodies fared well in this light. He replaced the inflatable gags with the mouth corsets that came with the outfits.
The contraptions wrapped the boys’ throats and chins, all the way under their nostrils. They were made of satin, with reinforcement or boning inside—thin, flexible slats which could be plastic or metal. Mike stuck a simple silk ball inside their mouths and added a rectangle of Elastoplast to seal their lips. Then he pulled the laces at the back so the satin gripped the captives’ mouths and throats.
“No chatting. This will prevent you from talking all night.”
TBC
Wonderful chapter! Those benefactors are relentless and I am totally okay with that. Gonna be interesting how the new guy will play into this. Can’t wait to see where you go from here
-
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Bradstick[/mention] Glad you like the protagonists' creativity. They've got a few more chapters to demonstrate their talent further. Unless Brian escapes, of course.
[mention]Bondwriter[/mention] I would love to see Brian try to escape…then get recaptured and then severely punished. If those punishments were just for talking with permission, those benefactors would come with some very sadistic punishments. Absolutely loving the series thus far
-
Bondwriter
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 575
- Joined: 6 years ago
[mention]Bradstick[/mention] I won't spoil the plot, but here is another chapter to find out what they've got in mind for Brian and Lester.
Chapter 22. Mike’s Pets
Mike left Brian and Lester on their own, the light still on. They heard him rambling in the bedroom on the other side of the wall. The sleeplessness was not the boys’ fault; their condition wasn’t adapted to sleep. Drowsing occurred, the ropework allowing them to relax enough, but it was a long, strenuous night.
At last, Mike came to release them from their poles early in the morning. They freshened up in the bathroom but kept their outrageous, body-hugging costumes on. Mike delighted in documenting their domestic duties in the kitchen with his phone.
They took a stroll outside. Mike had them stretch and move in their chains and hobbles. The bright morning sun yielded exquisite videos. He brought his charges back to the classroom and solidly restrained them to their desks
“Ready for another day showing how good you are? No mike is on yet. We’re on our last day, at least to the people who’ve helped to get you outfitted and have spent time and efforts seeing to your good behaviour. You’ve noticed how much they like you? You can’t let them down, so you’d better behave if you don’t want to get into a very uncomfortable detention starting tomorrow.”
The boys still had their gobs filled with scarves, their lips glued with tape, and their mouth corsets laced tight, so improper gestures or words were impossible. Mike was satisfied in keeping them ‘on their toes,’ making the boys squirm.
He launched the video projector and looked at his laptop; he took his time before screening the chat window full of messages. The online community around Mike had lots of ideas for their ‘last day:’ innovative tie-ups with more excruciating positions, modelling with dainty lingerie, and many more degrading situations. The chat went on until they decided for academics and deportment in the morning and escape artistry in the afternoon.
‘Academics’ meant they had to memorize another set of rules—the ten commandments of the serious TUG player—and would then be quizzed on it. They had only fifteen minutes to record the text, and the quiz wasn’t good: they both scored below 90.
The lesson that followed had to be adapted: Brian, who had the lowest score, would spend two hours tied to one of the poles in sensory deprivation and Lester would strut in front of the cameras for the audience’s pleasure.
Mike used ropes, straps, and bungee cords to bind Brian. He plugged his ears and put a black sleep mask on. The man could then oversee Lester’s performance on the catwalk. His bum’s appeal had the audience crazy from the get-go; the shiny purple fabric made it look rounder and plumper.
The strutting lasted an eternity. When it was over, someone suggested in the chat the boys’ valet duties could be assessed during the meal. Mike didn’t object; he released Brian, whose return to the real world was a bit disorienting. He was warned immediately of the stakes of his duties over lunch.
Brian and Lester worked dutifully to be efficient and make no mistakes; the many eyes watching them would spot any issues. They were instructed to prepare sandwiches for Mike and for themselves.
Mike fed them in turns after he was done with his meal. They got the inflatable plugs back on. The gardener took them to the bathroom and had them change in their football kits.
“The afternoon is going to be physical. You need to dress up accordingly. We can’t have you damage the fine clothing you wore for class this morning.”
Brian welcomed the change, though he didn’t see a big difference in terms of sexiness: Lester’s buttocks were equally enhanced by the football shorts or the kinky ones.
Mike pulled them back upstairs. The escape artistry challenge would test their skills as both the knotter and the prisoner: they were to bind each other in turn, and the one bound had half an hour to release himself and score a point.
Brian went as the binder first, although his ankles remained bound with five inches of chain; his arms were left free, though everyone agreed he should stay muzzled, as he was to follow instructions, not give them. Brian got to work, having Lester lie face down on his desk, his hands cuffed at the small of his back.
While he did his job, starting with coils wrapped loosely around Lester’s legs, which he would cinch and tighten later on, Brian assessed the likelihood of his own escape attempt. But Mike stood between him and the door, so running away would be difficult, even without chains on his feet. He focused on the task at hand, which wasn’t too bad since he got to caress Lester’s enticing body. The folded legs and the tight ropework around his torso holding his arms all enhanced the shapely body he felt with his hands.
“Are you done?” Mike asked the knot-tier, turning to him, after his friend was wrapped in a rope cocoon.
Brian nodded and the captor launched the timer, handcuffing Brian’s wrists immediately afterwards. Lester tried his best, but the ropes were many and the knots well tied. He got his right elbow slightly off, but that’s all his formidable struggling permitted.
Brian and Lester traded places under Mike’s supervision. The contestant was to perform the same tie-up: Brian let his friend truss him up docilely. When he got the go, he squirmed, twisting his arms in the rope handcuffs. Brian felt his right wrist could slip out of the rope bracelet if only he managed to loosen the knot a little.
Did he want to win? Would it be a victory to see Lester in another nasty predicament? He decided against exploring his freedom further while struggling convincingly to avoid suspicion from the sadists.
They had to perform frog-ties and then hogties, which each boy knotted well enough so that the other didn’t manage to escape.
“It’s a tie, gentlemen,” Mike announced after Brian was defeated by Lester’s hogtie.
In the chat window, the mood was that they both lost, which meant they would skip the meal as a penalty. Mike bound them to the poles.
“Here they are, people. I’ll let you admire our two TUG players for another couple of hours. They’ve got to leave afterwards.”
The two bound and gagged football players listened intently to Mike’s lies. They were confused as to Mike’s endgame. They stayed at their poles for two hours, with regular inspections from their gaoler, until he announced to the cameras that he would stop streaming so they wouldn’t see the boys free of bonds. Mike announced their return within two weeks, ‘since they’re so happy to have a supportive crowd to accompany them.’
He turned off the recording equipment.
“In these people’s minds, you’ll be at the beach tomorrow, enjoying the leisurely time posh boys like you have in the summer. Of course, I’ll keep you longer. I might skip on live events, but I’m sure your fans would pay a good price for videos of their two favourite bondage stars. Not to worry, you’ll hear from them again. For now, I’m going to take you back to Brian’s bedroom, where you’ll spend the night.”
Mike released them, always eager to add shackles before untying a knot to ensure maximum safety. The walk was uneventful, the bathroom break efficient, and one hour later Brian was lying on his back spread-eagled with Lester’s hard-on brushing against his nostril, both boys in a sixty-nine.
“You must wonder what this is all about, lads. I won’t tell you a long story this evening, but know that you still are my prisoners. I wonder about the ransom, though. I’m going to mull the issue over the coming days and see how to best take care of my captives.”
He let them strapped tightly in the dark; Brian felt Lester’s silk-gagged mouth brush against his boner. He returned the favour and soon got lured into a mutual rubbing that ended up in squirting juices in the Speedos and football shorts they’d kept on all day.
Twelve hours later, rested, cleaned, and wearing their schoolboy uniforms again, Brian and Lester stood facing the classroom chained and roped to the poles tightly. Mike left them and went outside the guest house. Not sure whether they were filmed, Brian and Lester stared at each other. Lester blinked with his eyes towards the wall. They could exchange through Morse code! The painstaking conversation confirmed the prisoners were both confused and unsure of what to do next.
Would compliance improve their conditions? Was Mike an actual kidnapper, or had someone decided to play a prank on them? They couldn’t give a definitive answer, but sharing their thoughts brought some comfort. Knowing they would both jump on an opportunity to thwart the gardener’s plans helped too. The boys went on with their uneasy communication until they heard steps on the gravel.
“I’m back,” Mike heralded as he climbed the stairs. He’d been gone for hours. What had he been plotting?
“You’re still here,” he said, popping into the room. “Good, I see your escape skills haven’t improved much since yesterday.”
His close inspection confirmed the tight, carefully designed network of restraints held fast.
“It’s just the three of us. Aren’t you happy? All these perverts with their ideas kept you on your toes, didn’t they? Now we can have less busy days. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You’ve been able to meditate three hours this morning already, so time to make yourselves useful.”
He put them in chains; they climbed downstairs to the kitchen, where Mike had left the newspaper on the table. He took it and sat comfortably, giving orders to the restrained waiters. They prepared a salad and cooked potatoes in the steam cooker, which Mike made sure they knew how to use, considering the wealthy lads’ lack of practice in the domestic arts.
They knew, but their potato-peeling skills weren’t to Mike’s standards; he gave surprisingly good advice on how to use the peeler and hold the potato. Brian had decided that he would get better acquainted with household chores once freed: he wanted to develop self-reliance, and not be humiliated for being an out-of-touch posh boy.
They waited on Mike during his meal, staying two steps behind and to his sides—he’d explained he wanted to have them within his field of vision and advised them not to try anything stupid. The boys performed their job flawlessly. They were fed in return, and Mike gagged them with the previous day’s socks, having one of each to suck on, trapping them with loads of tape around their head.
“You’ve been good so far, so I’ll take you walkies,” he said, collaring Lester. “That’s why I need you muzzled well.”
He clipped leashes to their collars and launched the procession with a flick of the wrist. It was sunny, warm, and windy, with just a few white clouds. The stroll allowed them to breathe fresh air. Mike dragged his charges for three laps around the estate using the various lanes and paths. It was the route Brian used for running a half-mile, which he did a few years back.
The landlord’s son inspected the estate for any track of Mike’s activities, but he couldn’t spot a suspect vehicle or out-of-place tools. The drapes in the ward’s lodge by the gates were drawn open, but he couldn’t be sure they were always closed when the staff was away.
“I’ll take you inside,” Mike said as they were about to end the third turn. They headed back to the guest house, at least Brian thought, but they turned left at a fork on the gravel paths. They were heading to the stables.
“It’s fitting with you harnessed and leashed,” Mike said when the large brick building was in sight.
The stables and the adjoined barn were remnants of the estate’s agricultural past. Until five years ago, Brian’s relatives kept a few horses there, but they found a more convenient solution when they moved. The building was used by the gardener and crew, mainly. Mike was taking them into his realm.
“Let’s find our stallions stables where they can rest after such intense exercise.”
Mike dragged his cattle to the stall at the back of the corridor. The equipment waiting for them, two trestles bearing saddles, placed them more on the side of the cowboys than of their mounts. Mike removed their ankle chains, picked up the two lads, and set them on the saddles. He cuffed their feet to the lower bar and used rope to bind their knees against the bar at middle height between their feet and crotch.
There were straps that went above their thighs. Mike untied their arms, only to slide them into single gloves.
“I’ve grown to like the accessories your admirers sent. These gloves really trap your forearms, and I love their look. I’ll put the hoods on, too.”
Mike slid the hoods down over their heads, lacing them and locking the buckle around their necks with a diminutive padlock. The leatherware did its job; they looked good.
“I’ll let you breathe the countryside air and enjoy the warmth. See you in a bit.”
TBC
Chapter 22. Mike’s Pets
Mike left Brian and Lester on their own, the light still on. They heard him rambling in the bedroom on the other side of the wall. The sleeplessness was not the boys’ fault; their condition wasn’t adapted to sleep. Drowsing occurred, the ropework allowing them to relax enough, but it was a long, strenuous night.
At last, Mike came to release them from their poles early in the morning. They freshened up in the bathroom but kept their outrageous, body-hugging costumes on. Mike delighted in documenting their domestic duties in the kitchen with his phone.
They took a stroll outside. Mike had them stretch and move in their chains and hobbles. The bright morning sun yielded exquisite videos. He brought his charges back to the classroom and solidly restrained them to their desks
“Ready for another day showing how good you are? No mike is on yet. We’re on our last day, at least to the people who’ve helped to get you outfitted and have spent time and efforts seeing to your good behaviour. You’ve noticed how much they like you? You can’t let them down, so you’d better behave if you don’t want to get into a very uncomfortable detention starting tomorrow.”
The boys still had their gobs filled with scarves, their lips glued with tape, and their mouth corsets laced tight, so improper gestures or words were impossible. Mike was satisfied in keeping them ‘on their toes,’ making the boys squirm.
He launched the video projector and looked at his laptop; he took his time before screening the chat window full of messages. The online community around Mike had lots of ideas for their ‘last day:’ innovative tie-ups with more excruciating positions, modelling with dainty lingerie, and many more degrading situations. The chat went on until they decided for academics and deportment in the morning and escape artistry in the afternoon.
‘Academics’ meant they had to memorize another set of rules—the ten commandments of the serious TUG player—and would then be quizzed on it. They had only fifteen minutes to record the text, and the quiz wasn’t good: they both scored below 90.
The lesson that followed had to be adapted: Brian, who had the lowest score, would spend two hours tied to one of the poles in sensory deprivation and Lester would strut in front of the cameras for the audience’s pleasure.
Mike used ropes, straps, and bungee cords to bind Brian. He plugged his ears and put a black sleep mask on. The man could then oversee Lester’s performance on the catwalk. His bum’s appeal had the audience crazy from the get-go; the shiny purple fabric made it look rounder and plumper.
The strutting lasted an eternity. When it was over, someone suggested in the chat the boys’ valet duties could be assessed during the meal. Mike didn’t object; he released Brian, whose return to the real world was a bit disorienting. He was warned immediately of the stakes of his duties over lunch.
Brian and Lester worked dutifully to be efficient and make no mistakes; the many eyes watching them would spot any issues. They were instructed to prepare sandwiches for Mike and for themselves.
Mike fed them in turns after he was done with his meal. They got the inflatable plugs back on. The gardener took them to the bathroom and had them change in their football kits.
“The afternoon is going to be physical. You need to dress up accordingly. We can’t have you damage the fine clothing you wore for class this morning.”
Brian welcomed the change, though he didn’t see a big difference in terms of sexiness: Lester’s buttocks were equally enhanced by the football shorts or the kinky ones.
Mike pulled them back upstairs. The escape artistry challenge would test their skills as both the knotter and the prisoner: they were to bind each other in turn, and the one bound had half an hour to release himself and score a point.
Brian went as the binder first, although his ankles remained bound with five inches of chain; his arms were left free, though everyone agreed he should stay muzzled, as he was to follow instructions, not give them. Brian got to work, having Lester lie face down on his desk, his hands cuffed at the small of his back.
While he did his job, starting with coils wrapped loosely around Lester’s legs, which he would cinch and tighten later on, Brian assessed the likelihood of his own escape attempt. But Mike stood between him and the door, so running away would be difficult, even without chains on his feet. He focused on the task at hand, which wasn’t too bad since he got to caress Lester’s enticing body. The folded legs and the tight ropework around his torso holding his arms all enhanced the shapely body he felt with his hands.
“Are you done?” Mike asked the knot-tier, turning to him, after his friend was wrapped in a rope cocoon.
Brian nodded and the captor launched the timer, handcuffing Brian’s wrists immediately afterwards. Lester tried his best, but the ropes were many and the knots well tied. He got his right elbow slightly off, but that’s all his formidable struggling permitted.
Brian and Lester traded places under Mike’s supervision. The contestant was to perform the same tie-up: Brian let his friend truss him up docilely. When he got the go, he squirmed, twisting his arms in the rope handcuffs. Brian felt his right wrist could slip out of the rope bracelet if only he managed to loosen the knot a little.
Did he want to win? Would it be a victory to see Lester in another nasty predicament? He decided against exploring his freedom further while struggling convincingly to avoid suspicion from the sadists.
They had to perform frog-ties and then hogties, which each boy knotted well enough so that the other didn’t manage to escape.
“It’s a tie, gentlemen,” Mike announced after Brian was defeated by Lester’s hogtie.
In the chat window, the mood was that they both lost, which meant they would skip the meal as a penalty. Mike bound them to the poles.
“Here they are, people. I’ll let you admire our two TUG players for another couple of hours. They’ve got to leave afterwards.”
The two bound and gagged football players listened intently to Mike’s lies. They were confused as to Mike’s endgame. They stayed at their poles for two hours, with regular inspections from their gaoler, until he announced to the cameras that he would stop streaming so they wouldn’t see the boys free of bonds. Mike announced their return within two weeks, ‘since they’re so happy to have a supportive crowd to accompany them.’
He turned off the recording equipment.
“In these people’s minds, you’ll be at the beach tomorrow, enjoying the leisurely time posh boys like you have in the summer. Of course, I’ll keep you longer. I might skip on live events, but I’m sure your fans would pay a good price for videos of their two favourite bondage stars. Not to worry, you’ll hear from them again. For now, I’m going to take you back to Brian’s bedroom, where you’ll spend the night.”
Mike released them, always eager to add shackles before untying a knot to ensure maximum safety. The walk was uneventful, the bathroom break efficient, and one hour later Brian was lying on his back spread-eagled with Lester’s hard-on brushing against his nostril, both boys in a sixty-nine.
“You must wonder what this is all about, lads. I won’t tell you a long story this evening, but know that you still are my prisoners. I wonder about the ransom, though. I’m going to mull the issue over the coming days and see how to best take care of my captives.”
He let them strapped tightly in the dark; Brian felt Lester’s silk-gagged mouth brush against his boner. He returned the favour and soon got lured into a mutual rubbing that ended up in squirting juices in the Speedos and football shorts they’d kept on all day.
Twelve hours later, rested, cleaned, and wearing their schoolboy uniforms again, Brian and Lester stood facing the classroom chained and roped to the poles tightly. Mike left them and went outside the guest house. Not sure whether they were filmed, Brian and Lester stared at each other. Lester blinked with his eyes towards the wall. They could exchange through Morse code! The painstaking conversation confirmed the prisoners were both confused and unsure of what to do next.
Would compliance improve their conditions? Was Mike an actual kidnapper, or had someone decided to play a prank on them? They couldn’t give a definitive answer, but sharing their thoughts brought some comfort. Knowing they would both jump on an opportunity to thwart the gardener’s plans helped too. The boys went on with their uneasy communication until they heard steps on the gravel.
“I’m back,” Mike heralded as he climbed the stairs. He’d been gone for hours. What had he been plotting?
“You’re still here,” he said, popping into the room. “Good, I see your escape skills haven’t improved much since yesterday.”
His close inspection confirmed the tight, carefully designed network of restraints held fast.
“It’s just the three of us. Aren’t you happy? All these perverts with their ideas kept you on your toes, didn’t they? Now we can have less busy days. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You’ve been able to meditate three hours this morning already, so time to make yourselves useful.”
He put them in chains; they climbed downstairs to the kitchen, where Mike had left the newspaper on the table. He took it and sat comfortably, giving orders to the restrained waiters. They prepared a salad and cooked potatoes in the steam cooker, which Mike made sure they knew how to use, considering the wealthy lads’ lack of practice in the domestic arts.
They knew, but their potato-peeling skills weren’t to Mike’s standards; he gave surprisingly good advice on how to use the peeler and hold the potato. Brian had decided that he would get better acquainted with household chores once freed: he wanted to develop self-reliance, and not be humiliated for being an out-of-touch posh boy.
They waited on Mike during his meal, staying two steps behind and to his sides—he’d explained he wanted to have them within his field of vision and advised them not to try anything stupid. The boys performed their job flawlessly. They were fed in return, and Mike gagged them with the previous day’s socks, having one of each to suck on, trapping them with loads of tape around their head.
“You’ve been good so far, so I’ll take you walkies,” he said, collaring Lester. “That’s why I need you muzzled well.”
He clipped leashes to their collars and launched the procession with a flick of the wrist. It was sunny, warm, and windy, with just a few white clouds. The stroll allowed them to breathe fresh air. Mike dragged his charges for three laps around the estate using the various lanes and paths. It was the route Brian used for running a half-mile, which he did a few years back.
The landlord’s son inspected the estate for any track of Mike’s activities, but he couldn’t spot a suspect vehicle or out-of-place tools. The drapes in the ward’s lodge by the gates were drawn open, but he couldn’t be sure they were always closed when the staff was away.
“I’ll take you inside,” Mike said as they were about to end the third turn. They headed back to the guest house, at least Brian thought, but they turned left at a fork on the gravel paths. They were heading to the stables.
“It’s fitting with you harnessed and leashed,” Mike said when the large brick building was in sight.
The stables and the adjoined barn were remnants of the estate’s agricultural past. Until five years ago, Brian’s relatives kept a few horses there, but they found a more convenient solution when they moved. The building was used by the gardener and crew, mainly. Mike was taking them into his realm.
“Let’s find our stallions stables where they can rest after such intense exercise.”
Mike dragged his cattle to the stall at the back of the corridor. The equipment waiting for them, two trestles bearing saddles, placed them more on the side of the cowboys than of their mounts. Mike removed their ankle chains, picked up the two lads, and set them on the saddles. He cuffed their feet to the lower bar and used rope to bind their knees against the bar at middle height between their feet and crotch.
There were straps that went above their thighs. Mike untied their arms, only to slide them into single gloves.
“I’ve grown to like the accessories your admirers sent. These gloves really trap your forearms, and I love their look. I’ll put the hoods on, too.”
Mike slid the hoods down over their heads, lacing them and locking the buckle around their necks with a diminutive padlock. The leatherware did its job; they looked good.
“I’ll let you breathe the countryside air and enjoy the warmth. See you in a bit.”
TBC