Re: BOUND AND GAGGED IN A SLEEPING BAG (MM/M) *CHAPTER 43
Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2018 7:21 am
Chapter 43 - Grounded
Having no foolproof way to measure the passage of time, I'd estimate a solid half hour passed before Nick got back and tossed his backpack and sleeping bags onto the mattress, right next to me.
I looked up at my handsome captor with eyes that demanded attention, but the stud ignored me and wiped his sweaty forehead before removing his big leather gloves and getting undressed.
The gloves landed on the bed, next to my face, and so did the heavy leather jacket.
The strong smell of leather mixed with the hunk's natural scent, caused my senses to tingle in delight.
Had the jock not been there, I'd have probably buried my face in his jacket and inhaled deeply though my nostrils.
I silently watched as Nick threw the wide military belt onto his jacket and looked on as he quickly peeled off his sweaty wifebeater, exposing his massive, glistening arms and buff torso.
His body looked absolutely amazing!
Now that his muscles were pumped up from the light workout he and Brad had just gotten back from, the hunk looked even MORE buff and imposing than usual.
Nick breathed out loudly to express fatigue, and used his damp muscle-shirt to pat his face dry and wipe down his pecs, abs and big bushy armpits.
The sweaty shirt was thrown casually to the floor, and the hulking, beefy blond stud finally gave me some attention.
"You comfy all tied up like that?" he asked, sitting down on the bed and putting a hand on my defenseless rump.
"Hmm, no. It's really tight." I complained, squirming around a little to emphasize my point.
Nick raised an eye brown and gave a puzzled smirk.
"That's the whole point." he answered, giving me a light tap on the bum. "That's what happens when you get caught trying to run away..."
"I wasn't caught! I was looking for you." I interjected, feeling confident that my answer would hold up, given that it contained SOME amount of truth.
They hadn't "caught" me.
By the time they stumbled upon me, I had already given up my quest and was making my way back to camp.
If I had wanted to escape at that point, I would have made a run for it as soon as I heard the Jeep approaching.
As soon as the words left my mouth though, I got another slap on my rump. This time, hard enough to make me yelp in surprise.
"No talking back!" the blond hunk angrily snapped. "You were caught, and now you'll be spending the rest of the trip bound up where I can see you." he explained, leaving very little room for debate.
"What?! Niiick! You can't keep me tied up all the time!" I protested, carefully controlling my tone of voice so that my words would sound more like pleas for mercy than actual complaints.
"Why not?" the jock asked, sliding his hand across my back and eventually using it to cradle the back of my scalp.
His tone of voice was serious and his question appeared to be genuine and untainted by hidden motives.
Truth me known, I wasn't expecting that kind of response.
"Why can't I keep you tied up?" Nick pressed, his deep, calm voice and soothing touch sending tingles of pleasure along my spine.
" 'Cause..." I whimpered, not knowing how to answer. "Niiick...come on. You can't do that!" I pleaded, giving the blue-eyed brute the most pitiful look I could muster.
"Of course I can! And I will." came the jock's answer.
"But..." I tried protesting, before quickly being cut off.
"And if you give me any trouble or talk back after I tell you be quiet, I'm gonna plug your little mouth up and you won't be able to talk anymore." he calmly explained, while stroking the back of my head affectionately.
I frowned in displeasure and let my gaze fall down to the mattress in frustration, but didn't say anything to contradict him.
"Now it's time to hit the shower and get that wound of yours checked." he stated, standing up off the bed and pulling me up into a sitting position.
The knots holding me captive were undone and the hunky stud lost no time in freeing me of his flawless ropework.
I tried twisting around to offer him easy access to my handcuffs, thinking that he'd remove them, but apparently, he wasn't interest in doing so.
"No." came Nick's reply. "The cuffs stay on."
I lowered my head down in submission and remained seated on the edge of the bed while my captor went about slinging his beach towel around his shoulders and grabbing his backpack.
"Alright. Let's go, bondage boy." he smirked, taking hold of my upper arm and gently guiding me out of the room and into the bathroom.
As soon as we entered the bathroom, the first thing that struck me was the fact that a camping cot, presumably the same one I'd been sleeping on two nights ago, was placed between the toilet and the bathtub.
"Why is there a cot in here?" I asked, obviously fearing the worst.
"Calm down." came Nick's immediate response. "It's just so that I can have you lying down while I clean out your cuts." he explained, gently prodding me into the well-lit room and closing the door behind us.
Nick's next order though, came as a bit of a surprise.
"Down, on your knees. Face the wall." he ordered, putting his backpack down on the toilet seat cover and pushing me down to a kneeling position next to the tub.
A sharp pain coursed through my knee as I bent down to the floor, but I managed to place most of my weight on my undamaged leg to ease some of the pain away.
"Keep your head straight and look at the wall." my big, beefy captor growled, not-so-gently grabbing my hair and chin, and forcing my head up so that I had to look at the part of the wall I was facing.
"Now you stay quiet!" he growled, standing his full two meters and looming down over my kneeling form. "If you move or talk before I tell you do, you'll regret it. Understood?" he added, this time adopting a more severe, fatherly tone.
I nodded my head obediently and cast my gaze down in submission.
Almost as soon as I let my head fall down, my chin was roughly picked up and Nick's deep, masculine voice spoke again. "Eyes on the wall!" he growled, using his finger to indicate that I was to look at the part of the wall that was at my eye level.
I stayed quiet and fixed my eyes on the spot Nick was pointing.
I dared not move, not wanting to suffer an even worse punishment than what he already had planned.
I remember being grounded like this as a boy. It was a long and boring punishment my dad used to put me through whenever I talked back or made a fuss.
Nick probably suffered the same fate once or twice.
Why else would be come up with this form of punishment if he hadn't experienced it even once during his childhood?
Had I been a disciple of masochistic tendencies, I would have replied something alone the lines of "Yes, dad."
Thankfully though, my common sense and fear of being punished overrode the almost suicidal impulse I had at the time. I still wonder what Nick would've done, or how he would have reacted had I sarcastically called him "dad".
Part of me wanted to believe he would be smiling on the inside, even though he'd put up a hard, severe front.
Whatever his reaction might've been, it would remain purely speculative.
With my nose almost touching the wall and my back standing up straight, it was impossible for me to get a good view of what Nick was doing when he let my head go and stepped towards the bath.
I heard the shower head come to life and heard the water streaming down from it, impacting on the white, fiberglass bathtub. Next, I heard the shower curtain being tossed and could see the hunk pulling his trackies and underwear down before letting them fall to the floor.
A strong, terribly cheesy smell suddenly started filling my nostrils.
It took me a few seconds to realise that Mr. Big Muscles had pulled his old bad boys and putrid socks off before stepping into the tub and getting under the shower.
Ugh, god!
It smelled TERRIBLE!
The shower curtain was closed up and I waited a full minute before slowing turning my head a little and glancing towards the tub.
The curtain was pretty sturdy and was doubled up with a liner.
I was fairly confident that the showering, blue-eyed hulk wouldn't be able to see my small movements from the other side of the curtain.
After a few more seconds of staring at the wall, just in case he decided to check on me and see if I was still doing so, I finally allowed my back to slump down a little and turned my head around to look at the giant shoes and nasty socks he'd discarded.
His big, dirty Hanes socks looked REALLY foul and raunchy, but that wasn't the only thing that marked my impressionable mind.
When I saw the muscle-hunk's extra large, black boxer-briefs lying on the bath rug less than a meter away, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Oh. My. God!
His HUGE, three day old boxers looked filthy as FUCK!
I couldn't see much of the inside, but from what little I saw, the pouch looked really stained and filthy.
The big, musky old briefs were heavily cum stained and appeared to be lined with a good number of brown pubes and sweat marks.
I didn't even wanna IMAGINE what it smelled like in there.
Nick's boxers really needed to be cleaned out, I thought, quickly turning my head back to face the wall and straightening my posture up again.
The last thing I wanted was one of those socks, or anything else for that matter, finding it's way into my mouth.
So I quickly decided I wouldn't talk back and wouldn't give my big, grumpy "daddy" an excuse to punish me with a gag.
After a few more minutes of kneeling, the shower head was turned off and the plastic curtain was pulled open.
Nick got out of the tub and quickly started drying himself after stepping onto the fluffy bath rug.
I kept my eyes fixed on the white bathroom wall in front of my nose, and silently waited for my hunky captor to give me a new set of instructions.
______________________________________________
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Having no foolproof way to measure the passage of time, I'd estimate a solid half hour passed before Nick got back and tossed his backpack and sleeping bags onto the mattress, right next to me.
I looked up at my handsome captor with eyes that demanded attention, but the stud ignored me and wiped his sweaty forehead before removing his big leather gloves and getting undressed.
The gloves landed on the bed, next to my face, and so did the heavy leather jacket.
The strong smell of leather mixed with the hunk's natural scent, caused my senses to tingle in delight.
Had the jock not been there, I'd have probably buried my face in his jacket and inhaled deeply though my nostrils.
I silently watched as Nick threw the wide military belt onto his jacket and looked on as he quickly peeled off his sweaty wifebeater, exposing his massive, glistening arms and buff torso.
His body looked absolutely amazing!
Now that his muscles were pumped up from the light workout he and Brad had just gotten back from, the hunk looked even MORE buff and imposing than usual.
Nick breathed out loudly to express fatigue, and used his damp muscle-shirt to pat his face dry and wipe down his pecs, abs and big bushy armpits.
The sweaty shirt was thrown casually to the floor, and the hulking, beefy blond stud finally gave me some attention.
"You comfy all tied up like that?" he asked, sitting down on the bed and putting a hand on my defenseless rump.
"Hmm, no. It's really tight." I complained, squirming around a little to emphasize my point.
Nick raised an eye brown and gave a puzzled smirk.
"That's the whole point." he answered, giving me a light tap on the bum. "That's what happens when you get caught trying to run away..."
"I wasn't caught! I was looking for you." I interjected, feeling confident that my answer would hold up, given that it contained SOME amount of truth.
They hadn't "caught" me.
By the time they stumbled upon me, I had already given up my quest and was making my way back to camp.
If I had wanted to escape at that point, I would have made a run for it as soon as I heard the Jeep approaching.
As soon as the words left my mouth though, I got another slap on my rump. This time, hard enough to make me yelp in surprise.
"No talking back!" the blond hunk angrily snapped. "You were caught, and now you'll be spending the rest of the trip bound up where I can see you." he explained, leaving very little room for debate.
"What?! Niiick! You can't keep me tied up all the time!" I protested, carefully controlling my tone of voice so that my words would sound more like pleas for mercy than actual complaints.
"Why not?" the jock asked, sliding his hand across my back and eventually using it to cradle the back of my scalp.
His tone of voice was serious and his question appeared to be genuine and untainted by hidden motives.
Truth me known, I wasn't expecting that kind of response.
"Why can't I keep you tied up?" Nick pressed, his deep, calm voice and soothing touch sending tingles of pleasure along my spine.
" 'Cause..." I whimpered, not knowing how to answer. "Niiick...come on. You can't do that!" I pleaded, giving the blue-eyed brute the most pitiful look I could muster.
"Of course I can! And I will." came the jock's answer.
"But..." I tried protesting, before quickly being cut off.
"And if you give me any trouble or talk back after I tell you be quiet, I'm gonna plug your little mouth up and you won't be able to talk anymore." he calmly explained, while stroking the back of my head affectionately.
I frowned in displeasure and let my gaze fall down to the mattress in frustration, but didn't say anything to contradict him.
"Now it's time to hit the shower and get that wound of yours checked." he stated, standing up off the bed and pulling me up into a sitting position.
The knots holding me captive were undone and the hunky stud lost no time in freeing me of his flawless ropework.
I tried twisting around to offer him easy access to my handcuffs, thinking that he'd remove them, but apparently, he wasn't interest in doing so.
"No." came Nick's reply. "The cuffs stay on."
I lowered my head down in submission and remained seated on the edge of the bed while my captor went about slinging his beach towel around his shoulders and grabbing his backpack.
"Alright. Let's go, bondage boy." he smirked, taking hold of my upper arm and gently guiding me out of the room and into the bathroom.
As soon as we entered the bathroom, the first thing that struck me was the fact that a camping cot, presumably the same one I'd been sleeping on two nights ago, was placed between the toilet and the bathtub.
"Why is there a cot in here?" I asked, obviously fearing the worst.
"Calm down." came Nick's immediate response. "It's just so that I can have you lying down while I clean out your cuts." he explained, gently prodding me into the well-lit room and closing the door behind us.
Nick's next order though, came as a bit of a surprise.
"Down, on your knees. Face the wall." he ordered, putting his backpack down on the toilet seat cover and pushing me down to a kneeling position next to the tub.
A sharp pain coursed through my knee as I bent down to the floor, but I managed to place most of my weight on my undamaged leg to ease some of the pain away.
"Keep your head straight and look at the wall." my big, beefy captor growled, not-so-gently grabbing my hair and chin, and forcing my head up so that I had to look at the part of the wall I was facing.
"Now you stay quiet!" he growled, standing his full two meters and looming down over my kneeling form. "If you move or talk before I tell you do, you'll regret it. Understood?" he added, this time adopting a more severe, fatherly tone.
I nodded my head obediently and cast my gaze down in submission.
Almost as soon as I let my head fall down, my chin was roughly picked up and Nick's deep, masculine voice spoke again. "Eyes on the wall!" he growled, using his finger to indicate that I was to look at the part of the wall that was at my eye level.
I stayed quiet and fixed my eyes on the spot Nick was pointing.
I dared not move, not wanting to suffer an even worse punishment than what he already had planned.
I remember being grounded like this as a boy. It was a long and boring punishment my dad used to put me through whenever I talked back or made a fuss.
Nick probably suffered the same fate once or twice.
Why else would be come up with this form of punishment if he hadn't experienced it even once during his childhood?
Had I been a disciple of masochistic tendencies, I would have replied something alone the lines of "Yes, dad."
Thankfully though, my common sense and fear of being punished overrode the almost suicidal impulse I had at the time. I still wonder what Nick would've done, or how he would have reacted had I sarcastically called him "dad".
Part of me wanted to believe he would be smiling on the inside, even though he'd put up a hard, severe front.
Whatever his reaction might've been, it would remain purely speculative.
With my nose almost touching the wall and my back standing up straight, it was impossible for me to get a good view of what Nick was doing when he let my head go and stepped towards the bath.
I heard the shower head come to life and heard the water streaming down from it, impacting on the white, fiberglass bathtub. Next, I heard the shower curtain being tossed and could see the hunk pulling his trackies and underwear down before letting them fall to the floor.
A strong, terribly cheesy smell suddenly started filling my nostrils.
It took me a few seconds to realise that Mr. Big Muscles had pulled his old bad boys and putrid socks off before stepping into the tub and getting under the shower.
Ugh, god!
It smelled TERRIBLE!
The shower curtain was closed up and I waited a full minute before slowing turning my head a little and glancing towards the tub.
The curtain was pretty sturdy and was doubled up with a liner.
I was fairly confident that the showering, blue-eyed hulk wouldn't be able to see my small movements from the other side of the curtain.
After a few more seconds of staring at the wall, just in case he decided to check on me and see if I was still doing so, I finally allowed my back to slump down a little and turned my head around to look at the giant shoes and nasty socks he'd discarded.
His big, dirty Hanes socks looked REALLY foul and raunchy, but that wasn't the only thing that marked my impressionable mind.
When I saw the muscle-hunk's extra large, black boxer-briefs lying on the bath rug less than a meter away, my jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
Oh. My. God!
His HUGE, three day old boxers looked filthy as FUCK!
I couldn't see much of the inside, but from what little I saw, the pouch looked really stained and filthy.
The big, musky old briefs were heavily cum stained and appeared to be lined with a good number of brown pubes and sweat marks.
I didn't even wanna IMAGINE what it smelled like in there.
Nick's boxers really needed to be cleaned out, I thought, quickly turning my head back to face the wall and straightening my posture up again.
The last thing I wanted was one of those socks, or anything else for that matter, finding it's way into my mouth.
So I quickly decided I wouldn't talk back and wouldn't give my big, grumpy "daddy" an excuse to punish me with a gag.
After a few more minutes of kneeling, the shower head was turned off and the plastic curtain was pulled open.
Nick got out of the tub and quickly started drying himself after stepping onto the fluffy bath rug.
I kept my eyes fixed on the white bathroom wall in front of my nose, and silently waited for my hunky captor to give me a new set of instructions.
______________________________________________
Note from the author: If you haven't posted on the story yet, please take a few seconds to share your thoughts, likes and dislikes with us. Don't forget to vote on the poll!