Stories of Tie Up Games

His home raided and destroyed, his friends killed, viciously hogtied, putridly gagged and humiliated while being faced with the prospect of being made a bed slave, man, can you imagine?? I feel like poor Jamis has a long way to go before he sees any light in this proverbial tunnel.

It'll be interesting to see who ends up owning Milk-Drinker and how that'll affect his prospects in Noregr.

Add to the already long list of bad things that can happen to Jamis, jealous wives and thralls. It'll be interesting to see what the handsome viking intends to do with him.
Also, excited to learn more from you or the comments about the history and geography of this setting. Someone will probably locate bjornstad in relation to modern cities or if its a fictional city tell us its likely inspiration. How are captives treated there? Will the handsome viking feed him well? What will jamis' duties be? Scribe? Translator? Bed thrall? Will Jamis' status among captives be determined by his owner's status, hierarchy among captives?
This story is so so good and continues to excel.

Interesting story, but I'm beginning to think that Hrongar and Jamis are just stand-ins for or carbon copies of Nick or Zack and Steven o Jeremy respectively.

Loving this story and everything you are putting into it. It's something truly different than the stuff I have seen on thei sight and a breath of fresh air that feels invigorating. Though I guess for the prisoners, fresh air is something becoming rather foreign.

Sounds like Jamis's time of some 'peace' is over....even though one could argue that his trip was still humiliating.

If now he has to be weary about a new Viking women threat as well, he will need to have eyes in the back of his head.

Along with a natural angst feeling for his fate his anxiety will go up a notch once they hit land. Now that he has noticed that he is already being treated different from his cohorts, and the jovial jokes by the captors, no doubt Jamis will continue his uneasy feelings.

Hrongar's demeanor when interacting with Jamis is definitively a stark contrast to how the other behemoths have been treating the other captives. They have 'conversation of sorts' too. Jamis's little grasp of the language perhaps is an added torture since he kind of picks up clues along the way giving him food for thought....whereas the other captives aren't aware and could be wondering if they will be forced to do labour.

Liking the pace within the chapters so far. Anticipating what might occur on land!

Getting to read this new chapter was a great way to start off my day! This story already has me hooked and has me craving for another chapter already.

The forced feeding scene was so hot and humiliating at the same time. Janis is right however, he doesn’t have any skills that a good slave would need, so I’m curious why the person who spared his life decided to take him prisoner. Did they immediately want him as their own bed thrall or for the fact he spoke their language. Either way I can’t wait to find out more!

A bit of historical inaccuracy is hardly something to worry overly about in this style of story.
Honestly the commitment is appreciated.

More please

Mummy great story looking forward to each chapter hoping great bondagecwill keep the prisoners in place

Love to see Jamis getting handfed by Hrongar! Think I'm going to like his new home... even though he probably won't

Jamis, caught between his old life and this new one, possibly being fought over by Hrongar and Ragnvald. I'm also worried about the other captives fate, but I'm afraid that our protagonist won't really get to learn what happens to to his fellow prisoners if he's destined for the life of a bed-thrall...

The sky had already grown dark by the time our groggy group was herded off the docked boat. Allan, Duncan, Shaemus and myself were made to stand in a line and remain obediently silent as a pair of chainmail and helmet-clad guards hailed our captors and exchanged friendly greetings with them.

One of the guards eyed us up with a look of clear disdain before finally calling out to one of his subordinates stationed at the city's defensive walls. The arrival of new slave labourers was obviously of little surprise to them; something which was made amply evident when a third guard - this one looking even younger than I was - arrived on the scene carrying four heavy sets of dedicated prisoner restraints.


One by one, the rough ropes spun around our heavily creased wrists were unknotted and replaced with the far colder and much more cumbersome embrace of thick iron shackles. The women - which had spent the harrowing voyage on the other two boats - had already been marched into town by the time our recently unbound ankles were securely fettered and chained.

My fellow captives and I kept our heads down, but I still remember feeling both terrified and taken aback as the armoured sentries marched our drab procession towards the city gates, leading us away from mighty Hrongar and the other Viking men. Pillagers and barbarian savages they may have been, but after nearly three days on a boat with them, there was a sense of familiarity to their warpaint-covered faces and brutishly demeaning antics.

I must admit, dear friend, part of me was disappointed that neither Hrongar, Ragnvald, nor the nameless helmed leviathan who'd originally spared my life deemed fit to cast a parting glance my way. The hulking brutes were too occupied unloading the spoils of their bountiful raids, and too busy celebrating their triumphant return home to care about the lacklustre group of prisoners they'd spent the last few days toying with.



The sound of foreign music, distant clamouring and mirthful chanting that echoed forth from some of the town's buildings painted a stark contrast to its seemingly deserted streets. The many cast iron fire pits dotting the street junctions allowed us to take note of the strange yet appreciable architecture that sprawled out before our weary eyes. My silent musings, however, were cut painfully short when our unwelcoming cohorts led us into the noticeably undecorated structure that was built into the town's fortified walls.

The stale dankness that accompanied our immediate descent down a flight of dusty stairs immediately alerted us to the fact that this was a prison of some sort - most likely a place to house new thralls until more permanent accommodations could be arranged.

Only one guard appeared to be stationed here, but from the manner in which his feet were propped up on a shabby-looking table and the way his helmet was slanted forward atop his no doubt slumbering eyes, it was obvious that the lout was neither alarmed by our arrival nor overly concerned with matters of security.


"Hjövard! Vekja upp! Fangi lykill." the guard at the front of our procession snapped, causing the seated jail warden to wake up and abruptly rise to attention.

The long-haired man grumbled something unintelligible and fumbled with a rather daunting set of keys before unlocking a heavy iron door that was at least as thick as my forearm. No explanation came our way as my fellow countrymen and I were roughly shoved into the dark musty room that would apparently serve as our jail cell.

The sound of mocking laughter escaped from one of the guards as both myself and Shaemus stumbled down to the smelly cell's hay covered floor. Two loaves of hardened bread were uncaringly tossed into the lightless cubicle before the heavy door was slammed shut, cutting us off from the outside world and leaving us to rot with the disease-ridden mice and vermin that already inhabited the place.



We spent all night in that cell, and we spent the following day in it as well. The unfathomably sparse amount of sunlight that filtered in through the stone wall's narrow ventilation slit allowed my eyes to catch sight of the many dead rodents and the innumerable number of feces that lined the torturously scratchy floor.

Worms and roaches had already begun to fester inside the bread loaves we'd been provided, and the single waste bucket assigned to our cell had obviously not been emptied prior to our arrival.

Even as the first night turned into morning and the afternoon then grew into nightfall, no voice of consolation rose up to relieve us of our misery. The litany of prayers had grown silent, the biting of bugs had grown intolerable, and the scurrying of small feet alerted us to the ever-increasing boldness of the cell's many four-legged occupants.

I cried on that first night, and I cried on the second one as well. I silently yearned for the demeaning yet comparatively bearable teasing of my seafaring captors. I longed for my freedom, but most of all I longed for home.



Only on the morning of the second day did the rattling of keys and the telltale noise of squeaking hinges greet us. Our dilated pupils had not even been given a chance to adjust to the sudden rush of candlelight that we were suddenly drenched with an entire basin's worth of icy cold water.

"Vekja upp!" one of the guards derisively chuckled, apparently taking significant pleasure in rousing us from our collective lethargy.

Our weak, shivering and shackled forms were yanked up and pulled out of the dank prison cell. The tattered garments clad over our weakened bodies were ruthlessly ripped off, depriving us of even the meagre dignity afforded by our urine-stained underpants. The four of us were then marched across the candlelit room before finally entering a somewhat cleaner part of the building. It was there that we were to be sold off.

I know it's like early in the morning, but I was up to get myself out of bed for work. So I glad to read something to get my day going. A sad gloomy chapter indeed this was for our protagonist. Now the true horror comes to the prisoners as they are stripped of their clothes and heading off to be sold. Who knows Hrongar may be in the crowd for Milk-Drinker to purchase. Nice work again, you do set the mood around the bright and cheery tones to the dark and depressing times, [mention]bondagefreak[/mention].

Pretty harsh conditions to leave slaves in. It shouldn't be a surprise that their captors aren't particularly attentive to their needs but these seem a bit rougher than necessary. I wonder if it's to break their resolve before assigning real jobs to them.

Yeah I think I'll pass on ever having an experience like that, not that Jamis and his companions were given any choice. This was frighteningly realistic to what I'd expect from Viking/Medieval Age captivity, that being said you did an incredible job portraying the utter squalor and hopelessness.

All I can add is thank goodness for the Geneva Convention in todays world.

I sure hope the light comes sooner for jamis. Oof that jail cell is horrific. Hoping someone relatively nice buys him, and he's fed and housed better wherever he lands up.

TayDay95 wrote: ↑2 years ago All I can add is thank goodness for the Geneva Convention in todays world.

To be fair, prison conditions are still like this in huge sections of the world. The GC only matters if a nation decides if it does.

That was quite the gloomy chapter. From the Viking stand point though it makes a lot of sense. The last thing you want is your new prisoner trying to break free. Doing this, one kept them from regaining their strength until being sold and two broke their spirits even more.

Being locked in the that cell for over 24 hours would be absolutely unbearable to me. I wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight after a night in there. It seems these Vikings are pretty smart when it comes to training their new slaves.

OrdinaryWorld wrote: ↑2 years ago

TayDay95 wrote: ↑2 years ago All I can add is thank goodness for the Geneva Convention in todays world.

To be fair, prison conditions are still like this in huge sections of the world. The GC only matters if a nation decides if it does.

True, a certain nameless country has shown a clear example of that in recent weeks if you know what I mean...

Been away for a while so only just picked up on this one but really enjoying it so far! Great work as always

Wow Sir this is hot… i know i always say that but u always make hot stories
That poor boy, taken away from everything he know..i hope a hot alpha viking will buy him to keep him as a bondageboy. I wish i was that boy, i would make sure the vikings come to my village to take me with them

Yikes, Jamis and the others are not getting any relief. I suspect that after that, some of their new lodgings and positions will seem better than the horrid jail cell! Have to wonder who Jamis will end up with!