BOUND & GAGGED IN A SLEEPING BAG (M+/M+) *UPDATE JAN 08*

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING SAGAS HAVE YOU FOUND YOURSELF RE-READING OR GOING BACK TO THE MOST? (2 VOTES)

BOUND & GAGGED IN A SLEEPING BAG
50
45%
TEACHING BRAD A LESSON
5
5%
EASY PREY I-IV
27
24%
THIRTY-SIX HOURS OF HELL
5
5%
HOUSE ARREST I & II
7
6%
HOW I BECAME A COLLEGE DORM SLAVE
16
14%
OTHER (SPECIFY)
1
1%
 
Total votes: 111

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Tsuhaya
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Post by Tsuhaya »

After a time out of the forum for personal reasons, I came back and I already put this marvel of writing in day, so I'm ready too ;)
Yes, it's me in the picture. What are you waiting for to tie me up and gag me?
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Post by bondagefreak »

Alright, thanks guys. Glad to know I still have a few of you along for the ride.
I'll be posting chapter 28 soon.

[mention]Tsuhaya[/mention]
Really glad to have you back by the way. If ever you need to talk, I'm here.
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CHAPTER 28 - CONFUSING THOUGHTS


After Brad had finished drying himself with his beach towel, he slipped his jockstrap back on and lifted my trembling form up, off the sandy beach.

The day was still relatively young and the crisp morning breeze was chilling me down to my bones.
Had I not been gagged so well, my teeth would've been chattering like crazy.

"On your feet!" the big, jockstrap-clad hunk ordered, before suddenly spinning me around so that I was facing away from him and working on my bound wrists.

Brad spent the next few minutes untying my wrists and ungagging me.
The leather muzzle was easily dried off with the beach towel, and the duct tape that was tightly wrapped around my face came off my wet skin quite easily.

The cocky, blue-eyed jock grabbed the back of my head before pulling me forward towards his broad chest.
"I bet you enjoyed chewing on that sock." he spat, chuckling at the fact that my mouth and lips were full to bursting with his big, nasty sock.
I nearly gagged at his remark. The thing tasted REAL bad.

Fuck! I hated him!
He'd practically just scared the life out of me, yet I couldn't help but glance up at his incredibly handsome face and notice how attractive his big pecs and biceps were.
What was wrong with me?

"Not so feisty now, eh faggot?" he chuckled, noticing my blushing cheeks and the awkward expression I had on my face. I tried saying something but ended up squinting my eyes In disgust and coughing into the thick mouth-stuffing. God, the sock tasted like butt!

Brad's chuckled before pulling the smelly, saliva-soaked sock out of my mouth, immediately causing me to cough and raise a hand up to wipe my lips.


My proximity to his warm, muscular body and the fact that I was wet and shivering caused me to feel strangely attracted to the bully. So much so that I was blushing and doing my best not to look at his hunky form, even though he was holding me real close. Must've been due to me being cold, I thought to myself.

Why else would I want his thick arms around me right now?



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"You better keep your fuckin' attitude in check today." he threatened, using his right hand to hold the back of my head tighter and using his other hand to lift my chin up so that I was staring right into his blue eyes.

I just frowned a little lowered my gaze down before shaking uncontrollably from the wind blowing across my wet skin. Brad didn't appreciate my response, or rather, the lack of it.

My head was roughly yanked upwards and my silence was rewarded with a rather harsh slap across the face.

"Wanna go for another swim, boi?" he asked, immediately causing me to lift my eyes up in fear and shake my head no.

"Then you fuckin' answer me when I talk to you. Got it!?" he barked, glaring down at me as I brought a hand up to soothe the burning cheek he'd just struck.

"Yes, Sir." I whimpered, quickly nodding before lowering my gaze back down.

"Good. Much better." he answered, seeming satisfied with my response.
His grasp on the back of my head tightened and I felt myself being pulled forward until my face was touching his large, muscular chest.
"Come here, faggot. Kiss my pecs." he ordered, crushing my face against his body while flexing his left bicep up next to my head.

I wanted to hit his smug face and punch him hard in the gut.
Of course, I didn't do so. Hitting the hunk would've been a monumental mistake.
Even at top shape, I wouldn't have been a match for Brad. Not even close!

I was no twig, but I was still small, light and thin.
As I'd find out later on, guys like me were commonly referred to as 'twinks', in the BDSM world.

In a fight, Brad would crush me, and I had little doubt that he could snap me in half if he wanted to.
I could probably knock him to the ground with a solid punch in the stomach and a knee in his between his legs, but that wouldn't get me anywhere.
Even Nick would have trouble keeping his friend from beating me to a pulp afterwards.

No. I had to stay calm and keep my head down.
That way they'd eventually lower their guard and I could find a way out of this mess.


With my mouth and nose against the hunk's warm, smooth skin, I felt strangely compelled to breathe in through my nostrils and obey his command.

I puckered my lips and kissed his big, strong chest. Brad held the back of my head tight, pushing my mouth against his right pec, then his left one.

"Yeah, that's right bitch." he moaned in pleasure, this time sticking my face right into his large, flexed bicep.

Closing my eyes, I sniffed the underside of the handsome bully's thick upper arm and puckered my lips against his warm skin before sampling his taste with my tongue. He smelled good. His skin was warm and clean and his muscles were hard.

Brad pulled my head back, pulling me away from his muscular torso and forcing me to look up at him.
"Yeah, I can see why Nick keeps you around now." he laughed, chuckling cockily. "I bet you gave him more than a few blowjobs with that little mouth of yours..." he mumbled, eyeing me with a look of scorn and disgust.

In that moment, I felt my cheeks tingling and knew that I was blushing like mad. I'd just kissed and licked the hunk's muscular torso and hadn't even put up a semblance of protest. No wonder he was treating me like a fag!
No normal heterosexual man would've given in so easily.

Brad was positively glowing. His face, displaying its signature smirk which radiated pride and smug superiority.

"Open!" he ordered, roughly pulling me in close again and using his taller stature to angle his head down over mine.
When I opened my mouth, I thought he was gonna kiss me.

Instead, I heard the cocky jock clearing his throat and pursing his lips a few inches above mine, right before spitting a huge gob of saliva into my mouth.

I immediately whimpered and tried backing away, but the powerful hunk held me tight and clamped his free hand under my jaw, forcing my mouth shut.

"Swallow!" he ordered, roughly holding my wet hair and keeping his other hand around my jaw.


I considered spitting the saliva back into his face, but that would probably earn me a viscous beating or something of the sort. So I swallowed, much to my hunky captor's satisfaction.


"Haha!" he laughed, letting my face go and ruffling my hair up. "Here." he told me, throwing me his large beach towel. "Dry yourself and put those boxers back on."

Not caring about the fact that the jerk has just wiped his pits, ass and balls with it, I quickly wrapped the towel around my shivering body and used it to dry my face and hair.

Brad collected the muzzle and the saliva-soaked sock before picking the leash up off the ground and clipping it to the collar around my neck.


With the loose-fitting underwear back on and the towel still wrapped around my bare torso, I followed the jock as he led me back to the campsite, where Nick was sitting and tending to the fire.

The blond hunk looked like he was readying his pack for a trip and barely paid us any attention as we walked past his chair and headed for the tent.


Brad led me inside and ordered me to put on the clothes Nick had laid out for me to wear.
I quickly complied and pulled the big white t-shirt over my diminutive torso before stepping into the Adidas shorts Nick was lending me and pulling them up. They were loose, but luckily, had an adjustable waistband which allowed me to securely fasten the running shorts around my slim waist.

I quickly put on a pair of clean ankle socks and was told to put my sneakers on and lace them up on my feet.


I barely had time to finish lacing my shoes, that Brad was pulling me up into a standing position.

The jock wasted no time in grabbing some cotton rope and expertly binding my wrists together in front of me.
The finely braided rope was wrapped around and between my wrists multiple times before being tightly knotted out of reach.
I tried twisting my hands around a bit, simply for the sake of testing out my restraints.
Brad was good at this. Real good.

We shared a moment of awkward silence, the jock glancing at me every now and then, and me glancing up at him when he wasn't looking. He was really handsome. I couldn't deny that.

Brad made sure my bonds were real nice and secure, and seemed satisfied when I tried twisting my wrists around, to no avail. His knots were flawless.


It didn't take long for me to understand that the two hunks were going on a hike and planning to take me along with them.
I was starving though and felt really weak.

Truth be known, I really didn't want to go out into the woods with them.
I felt beaten and tired, and simply wasn't up to the task of being marched across rocky, mud-covered terrain.

My stomach was growling, yet I dared not tell Brad about it lest he gag me and prevent me from voicing my complaints in front of Nick. Instead, I made it on purpose to look particularly miserable and drag my feet around more than I usually would.


To his credit, Brad wasn't quite as cruel as I made him out to be.
Almost as if reading my mind, the brute grabbed my leash and led me out of the tent before telling me it was time to eat breakfast.

Finally, I'd get some food into my stomach.



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CHAPTER 29 - A LESSON IN HUMILITY


I hate to admit this, but even as the muscular jock walked in front of me and held my leash tight, I couldn't help but glance at his partially exposed back and shoulders.

Brad looked STUNNING in his black muscle shirt!
His large shoulders and thick biceps were fully exposed, the tight, sleeveless shirt only serving to further accentuate the broadness of his chest and torso.

The thin running shorts he was wearing showed his legs off well and I couldn't help but notice the fact that he didn't appear to be wearing any socks inside his old, beat-up Nikes. If he was, they were no-show ankle socks.


Nick greeted us warmly as we approached and I was made to sit down in between both camping chairs while Brad sat and rummaged through the lunch cooler in search of something to eat.

"Hey buddy." Nick said, reaching down for my head and running his fingers through my still-moist hair. "Enjoyed your morning swim?" he asked, chuckling lightly as the words left his mouth.

At first, I was practically purring from the warmth and gentle nature of his touch. But as he finished speaking, my eyes shot down and I was deep in my thoughts.

Was he aware that I'd just been dragged into the lake, bound and gagged? Was he aware that his friend had planned on pretending to drown me? Maybe he'd already told Brad he approved. Maybe he'd orchestrated the whole thing with Brad in the first place!

I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want to believe that my lifelong friend would just give me away to this brute and knowingly allow my life to be put in danger! Nick's smirk and tone of voice though, left little doubt about my suspicions.

He was guilty.
They both were!

Fuck them! I had to escape this place.

If only I could get Brad's keys and manage to sneak into the Jeep, they'd be toast. I could drive out of here in a blink and they'd be powerless to stop me. Even on these rocky, dirt-lined trails, they'd never catch me.

I wasn't particularly bold or courageous, but I promised myself that whatever opportunity arose, I'd use it.

The cottage I'd spotted on the far side of the lake, couldn't be more than three or four kilometres away.
I only had to find a way to get there. If I had a good lead on them, it wouldn't matter if they used the Jeep to try and hunt me down. I could just go bushwhacking and march my way through the overgrown, heavily forested areas. They'd never find me.

One way or another, I'd reach the cottage, I'd get help and I'd get a ride back to the city.
If only I had my phone with me. I could just ask the cottage owner to drop me off at the closest town and try to hook up with a driver through my Uber app. I didn't even HAVE my phone though. So thinking about this didn't help me in the slightest.
Focus Steven! Focus!


Nick eventually gave up on waiting for me to answer his question and shrugged his shoulders as if saying "suit yourself."

It's only when the hunk got up to check on the small camping barbecue that I realised he'd been preparing breakfast for us while we were down at the lake. No wonder it smelled so good!


What's on the menu?" Brad asked, gulping down the water bottle he'd extracted from the lunch cooler.

"Italian sausage!" Nick answered, cheerfully handing Brad a small brochette skewer with three sausages mounted onto it. "I was gonna save these for supper, but our icepacks aren't gonna last that long." he explained, before warning his friend. "Careful it's hot."

"Shit, this looks good!" Brad cheered, trying to remove one of the grilled and still-steaming hot sausages from the skewer.


Both of them spent a few minutes eating and for a while there, I felt as though they were doing it on purpose to make me even hungrier. "Mmm...fuck!" Nick said, savouring the meat he'd just cooked.

I sat there, on the ground and didn't go out of my way to hide the fact that I felt truly miserable.
It took some time for Brad to finally notice me.

"You want some?" he asked, looking down at me with his signature grin painted across his smug face.
I knew he was up to something.

"Yes, Sir." I simply answered, not the least interested in whatever game he was thinking of playing.

"Alright, then come get it." he said, unskewering the last sausage and holding it out between his big thighs, pretending it was his cock and causing Nick to laugh.

What a dickhead, I though, lowering my face and rolling my eyes.
No way was I going to degrade myself to that level.

"No?" Brad asked, chuckling at how unappealing I thought his offer was.
"Okay, then suit yourself." he replied, bringing the sausage up to his mouth and finishing it off.

I just stared down at the ground, not knowing what to do with myself.
I was starving, but I still had enough dignity left in me to stop me from crawling up to the jerk and putting my face in between his legs.


"Hey." Nick said, snapping his fingers at me. "Come here." he gently demanded, ordering me to come closer to where he was sitting.

Brad gave me some slack on the leash and I was allowed to go to Nick, which I eagerly did even though I was angry at him.

My friend, or what used to be my friend, was playing around in the large lunch cooler before drawing out a box of instant oatmeal. He poured a bit of bottled water into the pot we'd brought, and placed it on the barbecue rack in order for the water to simmer.

"Let's see what we have here." he said, opening the oatmeal box and showing me the contents. It contained about a dozen pouches of flavoured oatmeal. Not as good as the sausages they'd just had, but still good.
I was really hungry and my stomach was growling, so apple and cinnamon oatmeal sounded REALLY good right now.

"Okay, we got cinnamon and spice..." he said, me sitting down in front of him, eyeing each packet he drew with palpable interest. "We got peaches and cream, apple and cinnamon..."

"Dude!" Brad suddenly interrupted, sounding positively annoyed with the large jock. "Just give him the crappy unflavoured one." he instructed.

"Aww come on, bro. Plain oatmeal sucks." Nick answered, trying to change his friend's mind.

Why was he trying to help me? Did he think he could buy my friendship back so easily?

"Bro, I'm serious." Brad answered, apparently unwavering in his decision.


Nick sighed and gave me a sympathetic look.
"Sorry buddy, you heard the man. Plain oatmeal it is." he stated, grabbing two packs of the unflavoured variety and pouring them in the pot of steaming water.


"Come here, faggot." Brad ordered, pointing towards the ground in front of his chair, pulling my leash hard until I was forced to crawl back in front of him.

I was expecting to eat on my own, since my hands were bound up in front of me. But when I saw Nick hand his friend the pot and spoon, I understood that Brad had other plans. I was dragged in closer, until I was kneeling down with my face right between the cocky stud's knees.

"Open up, bitch. Daddy's gonna feed you." he smirked, obviously feeling excitement at the prospect of having me at his mercy like this.


Brad grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled me closer to his seated form.
I could see the bulge growing in his black shorts. The jockstrap he was wearing underneath it did a poor job at hiding his erection. He was loving this. That much was easy to tell.


I barely had time to open my mouth before Brad shoved a spoon full of the oatmeal in it.
He was rough and forceful, holding the back of my head with his big hand and using the other to ram the spoon right in.

"Mrrhhh." I coughed, taken aback by the harshness of it all.


I hated it! It tasted gross!
Me kneeling down with my face in front of the jock's crotch only made the oatmeal seem worse than it really was.

"Eat it!" Brad ordered, shoving another spoonful of the tasteless goo into my mouth, without even bothering to let me finish the first.

I had to admit, it felt good to eat something. My stomach kept rumbling for more even though I didn't want to be fed like this. I accepted, or rather was forced to accept another spoonful.

I couldn't see Nick, but I knew he was watching me.
I couldn't help but wonder if he was jealous about Brad being the one feeding me and not him.
I secretly hoped he was, although I hated myself for even allowing those thoughts to enter my mind in the first place.

What the hell were they turning me into? Some kind of submissive faggot!?


"Dude. Here, take this." I heard Brad say as I was being fed another spoonful of the bland breakfast cereals.
The jock removed his hand from the back of my head and handed something to Nick, while he held the spoon in my mouth with his other hand.

I tried turning my head slightly to see what they were doing, but Brad didn't appreciate that.

"You fuckin keep your eyes on me and eat this shit." he growled, replacing his firm, vice-like grip on my head and roughly pulling my focus back towards him.

The hunky jock heightened the stakes a little by suddenly clearing the back of his throat out and spitting right into the pot of oatmeal.

I saw him plunge the spoon back into the pot and bring it back towards my face; oatmeal, spit and all.

Fuck no!


I tried to protest, but Brad wasn't taking "no" for an answer.
"Open your mouth, bitch! I said open! NOW!" he barked, gripping the back of my head tight and forcefully jamming the spoon in.

I whimpered and closed my eyes in disgust, unwilling to accept the mixture of gooey oatmeal and spit that was being imposed upon me.
My aggressive captor wasn't at all impressed.

"Eat it!" he barked anew, digging into the bowl, preparing to dish out another mouthful of the saliva-soaked cereals into my mouth.

Only when I opened my eyes did I notice Nick, crouched down to my far left and holding some kind of apparatus in front of his face.
I heard a click, followed by a flash of light. Again, a click followed by another a flash of light.

"Shit, the flash is on." he cursed, lowering the expensive-looking digital camera, no doubt to change some of the exposure settings.

He was taking photos!

"Nnoommphh!" I tried protesting, only to find my mouth getting plugged up by more of the annoying oatmeal.

"Haha! Shut the fuck up, bitch." Brad laughed, amused by the fact that I was both frustrated and deeply humiliated.


Why were they doing this?!
Being handfed like this was already humiliating enough! They didn't need to add to it by taking photos of the whole thing!

I saw Nick move to my right and take another couple of shots.
After two more spoonfuls, the pot looked like it was empty. I thought my ordeal was over.
It wasn't.

This time, Brad did something I wasn't expecting.
He dipped two of his fingers inside the pot and swirled them around enough to scoop out a sizeable amount of sticky oatmeal.

"Eat it." he ordered, bringing his fingers in front of my mouth.

At first, I tried pulling back and turning away.
But the muscular hunk gave me little choice. He held my head tight and pried my mouth open by ramming his fingers between my lips.

Being spoon-fed was humiliating enough, but this was just beyond words!

The sentiment only increased as Nick continued snapping photos of me while Brad had his two fingers inside my mouth.

What were they going to do with those photos?!
I immediately thought about Facebook and how these jerks had to potential to ruin my life in one go.
Luckily, the shots were being taken on a camera, and there wasn't any signal out here.

At least I didn't have to worry about the footage being posted online for the time being.
One problem at a time...


When Brad finally pulled his fingers out, I was hoping he would go back to using the spoon.
But he didn't. Instead, he dipped his whole hand inside the pot and scooped up the remaining oatmeal before closing his hand into a fist and making sure it was all over his palm and between his fingers.

The tasteless, gooey substance covered his hand completely, from top to bottom.
Some of it even dripped down onto his hairy left calf and down into his old Nike shoe.

I watched him bring his hand up to my face and caught a glimpse of his blue eyes. They were full of malice.
It was almost as if the jock was testing me, seeing how far I would go, defying me to throw a tantrum.

He wanted a reason to punish me, I just knew it.
Even though no words came out of his mouth, his eyes spoke a tale of their own.
Something along the lines of "Go ahead. Try something."

I knew that one way or another, I would be forced to do what he wanted me to do.
Then I remembered the cabin, the escape I wanted so badly, the need to focus on keeping my head low and going along with the game.

No, I wasn't going to defy him. I couldn't afford it, at least not for the moment anyways.

I couldn't see the expression on Brad's face when I jumped up to lick his extended hand.
I couldn't see the shock in his eyes when he saw me "willingly" begin cleaning his hand off.
I knew I had caught him off guard. That in itself, was good enough.

I licked his hand and sucked his fingers, one by one.

He enjoyed my ministrations, but I knew he was disappointed I hadn't tried to put up a fight.
He was eyeing me quietly, keeping my head close and rotating his hand to make sure my tongue was getting everywhere.

He was enjoying this very much, and so was Nick.
I could see the blond hunk in the distance, taking photos with one hand, noisily rubbing his big, nylon-clad boner with the other.

I was making both of them horny.
"Perverts, both of them!" I thought to myself.



After a few more seconds, my head was pulled back and Brad noticed the oatmeal that had dripped onto his left leg, from his inner calf muscle, right down to the inside of his shoe.

"Clean that up." he ordered, once again pulling my face down, this time against his muscular leg.

The next minute was spend lapping up the hunk's muscular leg, my tongue doing its work, cleaning up the coarse, oatmeal-infested hairs that lined his prominent calf muscle.

Brad quickly led my head down to his sneakered feet, before lifting his left foot up and pulling his beat-up sneaker off. Just as I suspected, he wasn't wearing any socks this time.

"Looks like you got some cleaning up to do in there as well." he said, putting the big Nike shoe under my face and pointing towards part of the inner sole that had sticky oatmeal smeared onto it.

I immediately crinkled my nose in disgust, taken aback by the strength and potency of the cheesy stench that spilt out of the old sneaker.

Being handfed and spoon-fed was one thing.
But I had NO intention of eating from inside that fuckin' shoe!
No fuckin' way!



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Post by Pup »

bondagefreak wrote: 5 years ago Note from the author: If you're enjoying this, PLEASE take a minute to let me know.
Heh. I'm enjoying it just as much as I did the first time I read it... ;)
Not at all...
Rubbish story 0/10
Totally not my favourite story on here and the only reason I came to the new board. :lol:
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Post by Msueta@2 »

In the next chapter have Nick masturbate himself and Stephen and have brad do himself and if Stephen explodes first he should get a two part punishment the first part is gagged with nicks and brad workout jock and there underwear put turn it inside out so he chews on the part where there put crack sat and part two after you guys work out let Stephen give yours and brad arm pits and ball sacks a licking clean don't shower our use anything under the armpits
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Post by Tsuhaya »

I'll never get tired of saying that this is the best story I'm gonna read in my life, and I read a lot, I usually spend 80% of my free time reading many things, no matter what, nothing is gonna beat that reading :roll:
Yes, it's me in the picture. What are you waiting for to tie me up and gag me?
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Post by lengban »

Always love to see Brad's brand of dominance vs Nick's. Poor Steven, already had his life threatened (one of the hardest things for me to read as someone who can't go underwater without holding his nose), and now having to not just let the sadistic jock feed him, but eat nasty plain oatmeal out of his rank shoe he's been wearing barefoot this whole time? Even if it's not Nick's, it's going to be humiliating, rank... And hot! Can't wait to see more, love this story so much~
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Post by Phoenix »

Steven’s situation stresses me out.... I love it. I love comparing what you’re writing now to what I remember you originally writing. I’m looking forward to where this revisit is going. :D

Side note, I love that something as being fed unflavored oatmeal being used as torture here. Making it be eaten out of a nasty shoe makes it even better.
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Post by bondagefreak »

Some really wonderful comments guys! A really big thanks for all the encouragement.
I'm thrilled that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am.

Sometimes I can't help but wonder and ask myself whether or not I'm overdoing it a little.
I have a tendency of dragging things on and "over-describing" various situations. The detailing and minutiae might not be everyone's cup of tea, especially those who have an insatiable appetite for non-stop bondage action.
But reading your comments tonight, really motivates me to continue in the same direction.

A BIG thanks guys.
Also thrilled to see the poll progressing and the proportion of new/1st time readers reach 30%.
Keep the votes and comments coming!

The next chapter will be published very shortly.
Chapter 32 will mark the end of PART I.
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Post by bondagefreak »

CHAPTER 30 - THE TEST


I immediately tried using my bound hands to lift myself up off the ground and turn my head away from Brad's big old shoe, but the brute wouldn't have it.

"Nuh uh." he chuckled, forcefully grabbing the back of my head and guiding it back over his funky, worn-out size 12 basketball trainer. "You're not going anywhere, punk."

Nick chuckled in the background. He was still holding onto the digital camera.
"You recording this, bro?" Brad asked, holding my head down and turning to look up at his buddy.

"You bet I am!" Nick exclaimed, slowly moving to our left to get a better view of the scene.

I looked down into the big mouldy shoe and coughed in disgust as a new wave or musky odour hit my nostrils. "Ughh!" I complained, squinting my eyes shut and crinkling my nose revulsion.
Brad's big shoe smelled positively rancid!

The jerk didn't care about my plight though. He just wanted that sticky oatmeal out of his shoe.
"Get your face in there and clean that up!" he ordered, not the least bit interested in hearing my complaints.


I moaned and protested again, but this time, got a kick in the side for my effort. "Quiet!" Brad barked, taking hold of the long leather leash and using it to lash out on my unprotected lower legs.

I immediately squealed in pain as the thick leather cut the air with great speed and came down on my bare skin.
The sexy brute hit me two more times, before scooting forward in his chair and shoving my face down, right
inside his raunchy shoe.


"I don't care WHAT it smells like in there! Put your fuckin' face inside my shoe and lick your fuckin' breakfast out of there!" he growled, angrily pressing the back of my head down and sounding positively upset about my refusal to cooperate.

I really wasn't trying to make things worse for myself.
I knew I had to cooperate if these brutes were ever to let their guard down.
But you gotta understand, Brad's shoe smelled REALLY bad.

Yes, the jock was super hot. And yes, I did feel some level of attraction to him.
But that didn't change the fact that his old Nike smelled like fetid cheese.
They smelled almost as bad as Nick's shoes!


As soon as my face was pushed in, I closed my eyes and tried ignoring how warm and heavy the air felt inside there. I held my breath and tried getting a hold of my senses. Just get it over with, I told myself, sticking my tongue out in an attempt to lap up the gooey oatmeal.

Damn these hightop sneakers! Even with my tongue extended out, I wasn't reaching the bottom of his stupid shoe!
"Lick, faggot!" Brad spat from above, pressing my head down and putting his heavy foot on the back of my neck.

With my face now pressed deeper inside, I tentatively extended my tongue out and felt the grimy, dingy material that lined the inner sole of the shoe.

"Uhgg!" I cried out, gagging on the taste and textures that my tongue was picking up. It smelled vile, and my tongue was picking up all sorts of things. Sock lint, leg hairs, various bits and crumbs...
"Uuggmph!" I cried out again, quickly pulling my tongue back in my mouth and desperately looking for a way to escape this infernal prison.

Brad pulled my hair and roughly yanked my head up to see if I'd made any progress cleaning out the inside of his old stinker.

Apparently, he wasn't very impressed.
I'd only given the inside of his shoe one single lapping, and I'd missed the part where the oatmeal had actually fallen.


"Look!" he barked, pointing down towards the part of the shoe that needed cleaning, while simultaneously grabbing my hair tighter. "Eat that!" he ordered, forcing my head back inside the filthy hightop and roughly settling his bare foot down over the back of my neck.


It took me a while to find the spot where the oatmeal had fallen, but as soon as I did, I started lapping it up and using my lips to try and suck all the gooey stuff out of there.

"Uggh." I cried out, nearly gagging on the smell and taste of it all.

"Yeah, clean that up!" Brad spat, no doubt amused and a little grossed out by what he was making me do.


"Okay, I'm impressed..." I heard Nick say. "You got him trained way faster than I expected."

"He's a natural." Brad replied, chuckling cockily and bending down to ruffle my hair up.

I wanted to tell them both to fuck off, but then thought about how pathetic I must've looked; lying there, with my face quite literally buried inside the hot bully's big smelly shoe.

I was so scared of Brad, so scared of being beaten to a pulp, that I was actually lying on the ground and cleaning out the inside of his sneaker, with my tongue no less!

How low I'd sunken...



The sound of my captor's impatient voice quickly snapped me out of my self-pity.

"Hurry up!" he barked, using his foot to make sure my face was still pressed deep inside there.
I lapped as quickly as I could, closing my eyes, whimpering and trying to ignore the many hairs and bits of lint that ended up into my mouth, along with the gooey oatmeal.

"I'm giving you five more seconds, then you BETTER be done cleaning my shoe out!" he growled, sounding positively aggressive.

Nick hadn't interfered once so far, which only led me to believe he'd be of no help to me if Brad decided to take things up a notch.

I was scared shitless and didn't want to imagine the impatient brute's reaction if he found even a single piece of oatmeal lining the inside of his funky shoe. So when I heard him announce that I had five seconds left, I licked and sucked the inside of his filthy sneaker like there was no tomorrow...tasting and ingesting the legs hairs, crumbs, lint and various other bits and bobs that had accumulated in there over the years.


Brad eventually took his foot off my neck and pulled my head up before carefully inspecting the inside his putrid shoe.
I could do nothing but wait for his verdict.



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Post by sniffingyoursocks »

Oh. Fuck.

Those three chapters were just INCREDIBLE!

I also love the comparison in how Brad degrades and humiliates Steven even more than Nick does.
So hot - and once more, I wish I was the faggot serving those two bullies.

Please continue, Master.
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Post by bondagefreak »

sniffingyoursocks wrote: 5 years ago Oh. Fuck.
Those three chapters were just INCREDIBLE!
I also love the comparison in how Brad degrades and humiliates Steven even more than Nick does.
So hot - and once more, I wish I was the faggot serving those two bullies.
Watch your language, little one.
Such words shouldn't be coming out of the mouth of babes.

Glad you enjoyed them though 8-)
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Post by bondagefreak »

CHAPTER 31 - THE HIKE


I remained there, lying flat on my stomach and eyeing the ground whilst the big brutish jock-bully inspected my work.

I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't find any trace of oatmeal left inside his grungy old shoe.
Thankfully, he didn't.

"Good boi." he finally commended, slipping his foot back into the musky basketball trainer and leaving me to cope with the many leg hairs and cheesy bits of lint that had entered my mouth during the ordeal.

Brad got up from his chair and pulled me up along with him.
From the position of the sun, I'd say it was already close to noon at that point. The jocks were eager to head out and begin their afternoon hike.

With Nick having already packed some food and essentials, it didn't take long for us to get moving.
I was given some juice to quench my thirst and was even allowed the privilege to eat an apple with my own two hands.

Even with the food in my stomach though, I wasn't feeling up to the task of hiking with these guys.
My energy reserves were low and so was my will to continue playing along as their puppet slave.
I'd been slapped, dragged in the lake, threatened, humiliated, force-fed and made to clean out the inside of my hunky bully's rotten shoe.
I couldn't take this abuse much longer.


My attention quickly focused on Nick, as he grabbed the big, heavy-looking packsack and strapped it over his shoulders.

He was apparently gonna remain shirtless the whole day, not that it bothered me, mind you.

The blond hunk hauled the backpack up on his back like a mule and clipped the lower straps around his muscular abdomen and the upper ones around his big, prominent chest.

I watched as he picked up his wide, military-issue tactical belt and fixed it up over his shiny blue trackies, right around his waist.

The belt sported a big roll of black gorilla tape, several coils of thick rope, a large hunting knife and a green water canteen.


Meanwhile, Brad was busy playing around with my collar and even tightened it up a notch before finally making sure that the leash was clipped on tight and that my hands were still secure.


"Alright guys. Let's do this!" Nick cheered, leading the way up into the steep, densely forested terrain.
We didn't have a compass or a GPS. But from what I understood, Brad knew these woods rather well.

And so we set off, Nick leading the way, me in the middle and Brad taking the rear.


The hike went relatively well.

Considering how disadvantaged I was with my hands bound up in front of me, my performance was surprisingly good. Or so I'd like to think.
To my credit, I managed not to lose my footing even once!


It's only after the first half-hour that I started feeling the fatigue setting in. Nick's pace was unrelenting.
So much so that I had trouble catching my breath and walking correctly.
Brad had overtaken me and I was now in the rear, being pulled by the leash, like some prisoner of war being forcefully dragged to the enemy camp.

I tried to groan and moan, but neither of them paid me much attention.
Only when I collapsed on my knees and let my head hang in defeat did the jocks take notice of me.


To my dismay, Brad actually showed some amount of pity.

I wanted to think of him as a monster and actually wanted to continue hating him, which I still did.
Strangely enough though, Nick was the one showing me little empathy this time.
In retrospect, I should've been expecting that.
He was by far the most competitive out of the two and probably didn't want me screwing up his average kilometre-per-hour ratio.

"Already!?" the blond hunk complained, frowning down at me as I kneeled on the ground, attempting to catch my breath and calm my heart rate. I couldn't help but notice how his smooth, massive torso was glistening with sweat.

"Aw chill out, bro!" Brad snapped, quickly telling Nick to stand still so he could unzip the backpack and take out a water bottle.

I thought Brad was gonna use the leash to beat me or something, but he did nothing of the sort.
Instead, he came over to me, drank some water and crouched down next to my kneeling position before cupping my chin up and forcing me to drink from the bottle as well.

My chest heaved and I quickly lowered my gaze back to the ground after having finished the contents of the bottle.

Brad held my leash but gave me a moment to recover while Nick stood there, impatiently waiting for me to get up.

"Thanks for nothing." I thought to myself, raising my eyes up just enough to throw the blond hunk a spiteful glare.
Nick wasn't paying attention though. He was too busy fidgeting with his fancy cardio watch, probably trying to find a way to erase this pause from his track record.
Typical jock.

Brad eventually motioned for me to get up and even bothered checking to see if I was alright.
Ignoring the proper protocol, I nodded my head yes and kept my miserable expression angled down towards the ground.


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We continued hiking for what must've been a full hour.

The terrain was quite steep and treacherous, causing me to stumble more than once.
Nick was forced to slow his cadence so that I could keep up, and as surprising as it may seem, Brad was keeping an eye on me to make sure I wasn't on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.


After reaching a nice spot with a scenic view of the landscape below, the two brutes decided to stop the hike and take a half-hour to eat lunch.

I was, once again, handfed and photographed, this time, with Nick placing a banana between his thighs and forcing it down my throat. The compromising photos that were taken against my will, could easily be photo-shopped to make it appear as though I was sucking cock.

When I attempted to protest by voicing a complaint, Brad rewarded me by spitting in my face and Nick held my hair tight while slapping my cheeks 'till they were red.



After some more humiliation and a few more minutes of hiking, the jocks finally decided to head back to camp.


I was more than relieved to find that most of our return trip was a downward hike towards the lower ground.
My legs were on fire, but at least the hardest part was behind us.



The long hike back to camp was pretty quiet and uneventful.
I was exhausted and both jocks were tired and sweaty.
Brad's forehead and sideburns were coated with sweat and Nick was sweating like a pig!

The blond hunk's nylon trackies were annoyingly loud, with each and every step he took, producing a familiar "swooshing" sound.

I couldn't help but wonder whether or not he was wearing the same Calvin Klein boxer-briefs he'd been wearing yesterday. I didn't want to imagine just how RANK and FOUL those briefs must've been right now.


It was around four o'clock in the afternoon when we finally arrived back at camp.
Nick and Brad pulled me up between their chairs and sat down to sip on some beers while they laughed and made some plans for the evening.

I was in desperate need of rest and had trouble keeping my eyes open while they spoke.
I hadn't slept much in the last two days and all the harsh treatment and abuse was definitely taking its toll on me.


Only when I heard my captors talk about leaving me alone in camp and going out to catch some fish that I understood Lady Luck was smiling upon me right now.


This would be my opening, I decided.
No more abuse. No more humiliation and no more torture.
I'd do everything in my power to be left behind while they went fishing.

Finally, the opportunity I'd been anxiously waiting for was about to present itself.
I wouldn't let this chance slip by.

Tonight, I'd make my move.
Freedom was almost within reach.
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Post by LK3869 »

Couldn't help but noticing that line a few chapters back about the twinks - I believe, just too tired to check it back, not even sure where it is - and the BDSM circles, that Steven would "soon know about"... poor guy will never see the end of it.
You had concerns about too much details and it having not enough TUGs... I have to admit I skip some of the shoe licking and sextoys parts because of personal tastes, but since you provide different kinds of fun there's always something to suit me once every few chapters...
And to me, it's "nothing" but a loong TUG, so I wouldn't understand anyone complaining about that. If characters stay tied all the time, nothing happens...

and... spitting in the mouth ? That's gross ! :lol:

Still watching closely the powerplay between Brad and Nick. Stephen's a bit absent in those last parts...
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
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Post by Johnsnow »

Love the story but I do wish things would speed up a bit. Like the oatmeal thing went on for what I believe to be a bout a whole chapter. As a reader I like detail but maybe not so much? Just putting that out there. Story is so good I'd read whatever you put out there though!
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Post by bondagefreak »

CHAPTER 32 - THE STAGE IS SET


Even though the sun would still be up for many hours on this fine August day, the guys were more than eager to head out on the lake before the beginning of sundown.

Part of me wanted to catch some fish and accompany them, but I found myself easily silencing the annoying voice inside of me that demanded status quo and decided to put my plan in action.

Tonight was the night! Another opportunity like this one might not present itself for a while, and I wasn't gonna wait another five days for this STUPID week-long ordeal to end!
No. It was now or never.



Convincing the two brutes that it would be a good idea to leave me behind, wasn't all that difficult.

True, it wasn't entirely due to my creative thinking or constant yawning and eye rubbing tactics. I actually really was exhausted...something which definitely helped make my performance even more convincing. And so, it was decided that I'd spend the evening in the tent, securely strapped down to my cot while the guys went out on their fishing trip.

I knew it probably wouldn't be a long trip. Two, maybe three hours at the most.
I'd have to act fast and work myself free as quickly as possible.
I needed all the help I could get, and that meant getting an important head start on the bullies before they even realised what was happening.


I didn't know these forest roads at all, but from what I understood, there was only one main trail leading around the lake. I knew where that old cottage was, and I knew in which direction to head once I was free.

The plan was shaky as best, but I'd sort the rest out along the way.
One thing at a time and first things first!

The first thing I had to figure out, was how I was gonna free myself from whatever restraints the two Alphas were gonna put me into.

And so, when bare-chested Brad led me towards the tent, with his sweaty sleeveless shirt slung over his left shoulder, I dragged my feet on the ground and made it look as though I was seriously drained and fatigued. Hopefully, he'd fall for the trick and come to believe that I didn't need to be tied down as severely as he and Nick were in the habit of doing.

I offered no resistance, and offered no complaints as I was stripped of my running shoes and given a clean shirt to wear.
Nick too was in the tent with us, and the blond man helped out by getting his dad's super fat army bag ready for my early evening nap.
The bag's stench would be another incentive for me to try and escape, I mused, snickering silently beneath the exhausted and beaten façade I was putting up.


Dressed in my shorts, socks and t-shirt, and freed of the dreaded dog leash, I was quickly made to lie down on the cot and ordered to scoot down inside the super puffy mummy bag.

When Brad suggested securing me down inside several sleeping bags, Nick was rather quick to shoot down the idea.

"Nah. We don't want him getting a heatstroke or anything." he said, slowly zipping the super thick, smelly green bag up over my abdomen and chest. "Besides, it's like twenty degrees out and my dad's bag is made for crazy ass winter weather. He'll be pretty damn toasty in there, trust me." he added, not even bothering to look at me while he zipped the smelly bag up, right over my lower face.

Ugh! God I HATED this bag!

Nick was right. Jack's bag was made for extreme weather conditions.
My feet and legs were trapped together inside the narrower half of the bag and my arms weren't much better off.
The mummy was pretty darned snug and was rather stupidly thick.
No wonder this old bag smelled so bad! Nick's dad must've been sweating bullets inside this thing during all those camping trips he took us on back when we were kids and young teens.

To my great relief, I didn't have to endure the stench much longer.
Nick noted my laboured breathing and decided it was safer to lift my head out of the hood opening and knot it shut around my neck instead.


The jocks spent the next five minutes strapping me down.
I was already swallowed up, zipped away and fully trapped inside the super thick old army bag, but they weren't taking any chances.

I was being strapped down to my cot like some psychotic criminal being taken away to a maximum security facility.
Pretty soon, I had a thick strap holding me down every six inches or so, literally from my ankles right up to my neck.

Even though I kept my eyes half-shut and pretended to be falling asleep, I felt a sudden tingle in my groin as the strap going over my crotch and wrists was tightened.

I tried twisting my body a bit, tried testing out my monstrous sleeping bag prison, but something strange happened.

It must have been the feeling of the insulating loft being pressed all around my body and the soft texture of puffy nylon brushing against my arms and legs. I felt blood rushing into my crotch and before I knew it, I was starting to get a boner.

I tried moving my feet and my legs, but the sound of swishy nylon and the feeling of the thick loft around me continued to make my erection grow.

The feeling of excitement only intensified when I felt all the straps being tightened and secured, one by one.
Nick and Brad had no way of knowing this, but I was literally throbbing inside there.


The two sweaty hunks stood back to admire their work before running their hands on top of the super thick green sleeping bag. I could hear the sound of their hands brushing against the puffy nylon bag. I felt helpless, but somehow totally aroused at the same time.

"Yeah, he ain't getting out of there any time soon." Nick chuckled, ruffling my hair up before crouching down next to my helpless face.

With my arms fully zipped up and strapped down, and the hood opening tightly cinched around my neck, my head and face were left totally defenceless. So I didn't bother fighting or offering any resistance.

"You gonna take a nice nap while we're gone?" the blond asked, cupping my chin with one hand and using his other to run his finger through my hair.

"Um hmm." I answered, slowly nodding my head and keeping my eyes half shut, pretending to be even more tired than I really was.

Nick squeezed my cheeks together playfully before standing up and towering his full two meters above me.

I was about to close my eyes shut, but instead, opened them wide in apprehension when I saw Brad walking up to me with what appeared to be a large, hole-ridden black sock in one hand and a roll of wide, silver duct tape in the other.

"Alright faggot." he said, crouching down over me and roughly grabbing my jaw with the intent of forcefully shoving the massive wad inside my mouth.

I was completely zipped up and strapped down, unable to do anything about the gag, unable to make even the slightest move to defend myself.

The handsome brute started shoving the dirty sock in, immediately causing me to cry out in protest.
"Noommphh!" I attempted to yell, eyes bursting out in panic as the stench of the big, musky sock invaded my nostrils. I had no idea where he'd gotten the sock, but it smelled particularly foul!

Brad must've been as surprised as I was when Nick came to my rescue a second time.
"No, bro! No sock." Nick ordered, grabbing Brad's muscular forearm in order to halt his friend's fiendish assault.
"I'm serious." Nick said, clenching his jaw and holding his ground. "I don't want him choking on that while we're gone."

For an instant there, I was sure Brad would object or try to toss aside Nick's concerns, but that didn't happen.
The two jocks seemed to exchange glares for a second. I thought they would fight or at least argue, but again my expectations were proven wrong.
Brad looked pissed off, but didn't press the matter and quickly put the foul-looking sock down.

I watched as Nick started looking around the tent for something before settling his gaze on Brad's discarded muscle shirt.

"Here. I have an idea." he said, grabbing his hunky buddy's sweat-soaked, sleeveless shirt and pulling it taut.
I thought Nick was gonna cleave gag me with the shirt, but watched in apprehension as he twisted the thing up and created a big, fist-sized knot in the middle of it.

This was worse than a cleave-gag.
It was like a ball-gag!

"Hold his head up." Nick told Brad, who was all too eager to see his sweaty muscle shirt being transformed into an impressive mouth gag. The sexy brute crouched behind me before lifting my head up and grabbing my lower jaw with his other hand.

Nick came at me, holding both ends of his friend's sweaty shirt up and presenting me with the huge wad of knotted cloth that was intended for my mouth. I struggled inside the super thick sleeping bag, but my efforts were all in vain.

"Alright Steven..." Nick chuckled, slowly crouching down over my helpless face. "Time to be a good boi and take your gag." he laughed, bringing the enormous knot right over my lower face.

I looked at the dreaded wad of black cloth and knew there was no way in hell that thing was gonna fit inside my mouth.


The brutes didn't care though.
"OPEN!" Brad yelled, suddenly squeezing my neck tight and pulling my hair hard.

"Ahhggh!" I cried out in sudden agony as the strong hand started squeezing my windpipe.

Nick didn't even give me a chance to get a word out.
The fat knot he'd created in his fellow jock's sweaty muscle shirt was jammed inside my mouth and forced in deep, causing my lips and cheeks to bulge out painfully.

"Ugghmm." I cried out, barely hearing myself beneath the giant wad that was now plugging my mouth up.

"This is for your own safety, Steven." Nick mumbled, knotting the shirt up behind my head and using his enormous biceps to secure the knot up really tight. "We can't have you making noise and attracting wild animals into our camp while we're gone."

My attention was momentarily drawn away from the salty wad inside my mouth when the muscular jerk bent down to double-knot Brad's shirt-gag behind my head. "Ughh!" I attempted to cry out, staring straight up into the blond hunk's massive armpit.

"There. That should keep him quiet." he said, finally pulling up to observe his work.

Brad immediately laughed and let my head go before giving me a light tap on the cheek.
"Sweet dreams, faggot." he laughed. "Rest up while you can. I'm gonna have a shitload of fun with you when I get back." he added, giving me a slightly harder slap on the face before getting up and picking some stuff off from the tent floor.

The jocks scanned the tent for anything they'd forgotten and didn't even throw me a final glance before stepping outside the nylon abode and zipping the exit shut behind them.
I was left alone, sealed inside this infernal expedition-grade sleeping bag, strapped down to my cot and gagged with Brad's sweaty muscle shirt.



I spent the first half-hour trying to cope with the salty wad in my mouth, desperately trying to fight the restraints and futilely trying to reach for my throbbing erection.

Jack's old sleeping bag was incredibly thick and the numerous ratchet straps pinning me down were doing a flawless job and keeping be still. The sun was literally beating down on the tent and I was left roasting like a muffin inside the dirty old mummy bag.

Struggling furiously against the ratchet straps, I ended up trying calling for help. But nothing was working!
My muffled screams weren't making it out past the giant wad of cloth in my mouth.
I was stuck. There were simply too many straps holding me down. It was hopeless!
I'd never get out of this on my own, I thought, finally closing my eyes and allowing my growing fatigue to slowly take over.

Before I knew it, I was panting in exhaustion and quickly falling into a deep slumber.





The next time I woke up, my hair was damp and my eyes were stinging from the sweat that was dripping from my forehead.
I had no idea how long I had dozed off for. Perhaps an hour or so. It was difficult to tell.

From inside the tent, I could see the sun had gone down considerably. It was quiet outside. Other than the rustling of leaves, the occasional chirping of birds and my own breathing, I could hear nothing. My captors were undoubtedly still fishing on the lake.

The air around me was cooling down into what could only be described as a chilly evening. But even the freshness of the evening wind was no match for the monster sleeping bag I was zipped up in.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but I knew the jocks would be back soon.
I fought my restraints, struggled and twisted furiously until FINALLY, I managed to slip an arm up past my chest.

It took some effort to undo the knots that kept the hood sealed up around my neck, but after a good minute of tampering with the cord, I managed to undo the knot and open the hood up.

Finally, I managed to get my entire right arm out of the bag.
I remained there for a moment, breathless, hardly believing that I had managed to slip one of my arms up and out of the bag.


My heart was beating so fast from the strain and effort that I wanted to close my eyes and go back to sleep.
But it didn't take long for the heat to motivate me to move once again.
After catching my breath back, I gave myself a figurative kick in the rear end and kept on trying to work myself free of the damnable restraints.

The first thing I tore off, was the salty muscle shirt-gag.


It wasn't nearly as bad as chowing down on one of their cheesy old socks, but I was tired of sucking on Brad's sweaty shirt and hearing myself moan.

It didn't take me long to loosen two of the ratchet straps, and from that point on, it was game over for the boys.
With my upper body restraints undone, using my slender form to slide out of the bag was nothing more than a piece of cake.


I was free and pretty soon, found myself standing in the middle of the tent, wearing nothing but the running shorts and t-shirt I'd been lent.

It took me a few seconds to get a hold of myself and come to terms with the gravity of my situation.
I had just escaped my bonds and my captors were still out on the lake. I was alone. And free!


I stood there, in my shorts and damp t-shirt, trying to decide what to do.
So, this was it? This was the end? I could finally run away and end this stupid game of theirs!

For some reason, I could hardly believe it. I didn't expect the moment to arrive so soon.
It's almost as though I had been expecting defeat. But here I was now, on the brink of victory.


I looked around the tent, trying to figure out what to do. I remembered the promise I had made to myself, that I would escape when the situation presented itself...that I wouldn't falter when the time came to make a move.
But right now, in this moment, I felt fear and uncertainty.

"This is so very typical of you, Steven..." I chuckled underneath my breath.
Leave it to me to escape from my bonds, only to remain here and wait for my oppressors to return.

Escape was within reach. I could leave this place! But why on earth was I still standing here, thinking about it?
What was keeping me frozen in place?
I knew whatever I decided, I would have to do it fast.


Staying here was definitely the safest option. I would be in Nick's care tomorrow, and even though I would have to face Brad tonight, I knew that Nick wouldn't let him go too far. Or would he?

I still didn't know whether or not Nick knew about this morning...about the drowning scare.

Part of me hoped that he didn't, but doubt was taking up more and more space as I thought back on everything that had happened to me during these last few days; the trickery, the kidnapping, the abuse and humiliation.

Nick had allowed Brad to put my life in danger, and I'd never forgive him for that.
My friendship obviously meant nothing to him. I was only a tool to him, something to be used and discarded...an ego booster of some sort.


Images and memories flashed through my head. There was no way I could stay here. I had to run away, I had to leave.

I rummaged through the various packsacks, containers and duffle bags, frantically looking for the keys to Brad's Jeep.


They were nowhere to be found, but my determination only grew when my eyes spotted the jerk's digital camera...the one that had been used to photograph and record me while I was being humiliated earlier today.


As I grabbed the camera and scanned through the extensive photo library, I couldn't help but grow angry at the footage they had taken.

Through watery eyes, I watched the small illuminated screen as it displayed a set of photos that had been taken earlier during the day. It was me, sitting between Brad's legs, being fed my oatmeal. As I scanned through the photos, I saw myself being spoon-fed in one, while in the next I was licking Brad's oatmeal covered fingers.

In the next photos, I was licking some of the oatmeal that had fallen on the jerk's thigh and in the last ones, it looked as though I had my face buried in his crotch. There were lots of them, and several video recordings as well.

"Fuck them." I angrily muttered.

I was shaking, angry for being so weak and angry at both of them for taking advantage of me like this.
I was angry, especially at Nick.


I didn't even wanna think about how they could ruin my life if some of those photos found their way on the internet.
Oh my god, there's no way I could let any of this get out!

Still shaking from a mixture of anger, shame and fear, I turned the camera off and looked at it for a moment.
I sniffed away as one of my tears rolled off my cheek and landed on the expensive-looking digital device.

The adrenaline pumping through my veins and the raw emotions boiling inside me left me with only one option.


I threw the damned thing to the ground and smashed it with as much force as I could muster.

I drew a small bit of satisfaction in knowing those photos wouldn't be going online any time soon.
Strangely though, the minor victory I'd just struck did little to ease my tears and sobs.

Now that the deed was done, I was really scared about what would happen when Brad found his camera smashed to bits...more precisely, about what would happen if he ever got his hands on me.

I was no photographer, but I didn't need to know anything about photography to know the camera I'd just smashed was a professional-grade device. That meant only one thing. I had no other option left but to run.



Grabbing my sneakers and lacing them up onto my socked feet, I took one of the flashlights I'd found and quickly unzipped the tent entrance.

Poking my head outside, I was satisfied to note no other presence in camp.
It was slowly getting dark, but I still had a good half-hour before the sun went down completely.
My limbs were shaking in apprehension as I stepped out of the tent and slowly zipped it back up. Nick and Brad were most likely on their way back by now. I had to hurry!


I waited for an instant, scanning the area around me until finally darting off for the woods.

The wooden cottage I'd spotted on the far side of the lake couldn't be more than a few kilometres away.
If something didn't work out, I would hide in the woods and run on one of the dirt trails until I reached the main road. From that point on, I could just hitch a ride with someone and try to find my way back home.


As my legs ran and the darkness grew, my breathing and the constant sound of my heartbeat became my only companions.

Even the birds and insects were quiet now.



Tears began streaming down my face as I realized how reckless and shaky my plans were.
I had no choice but to press on. There could be no turning back at this point.
Nick and Brad would have the surprise of their lives when they got back to find a deserted campsite.

And so I ran. I ran into the cold, unforgiving forest; no compass, no warm clothes and no provisions
I ran, with only my legs to carry me and the clothes on my back to keep me warm.

I ran.



END OF BOOK I


STOP!
YOU'VE READ 32 CHAPTERS SO FAR.
NOW IT'S TIME TO STOP LURKING AND SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS WITH US.

DID YOU ENJOY THE FIRST PART OF STEVEN'S TALE?
ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO "BOUND & GAGGED BOOK II"?

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT NICK? WHAT ABOUT BRAD?
WHAT DO YOU THINK OF STEVEN'S CURRENT PREDICAMENT?

DROP ME A NOTE IN THE COMMENTS SECTION BEFORE READING THE CONTINUATION!

REMEMBER THAT IF YOU'RE NOT A MEMBER, SIGNING UP TAKES JUST A FEW SECONDS!
Last edited by bondagefreak 5 months ago, edited 6 times in total.
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bondagefreak
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Post by bondagefreak »

Thanks for the 70 votes of the poll, guys!
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BondageKitten
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Post by BondageKitten »

Man, I hope Steven knows what he's doing... and that he doesn't get caught. Keep up the great story! :D
I'm a damsel. I'm in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.
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Post by bondagefreak »

Thanks for the comment [mention]BondageKitten[/mention]. I was hoping for more comments, especially from first-time readers, but oh well.

I'll be starting Bound and Gagged part II this week.
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Johnsnow
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Post by Johnsnow »

What does part II entail. It is just a continuation isn't it? Also are you continuing to rewrite?
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Post by bondagefreak »

Johnsnow wrote: 5 years ago What does part II entail. It is just a continuation isn't it? Also are you continuing to rewrite?
No worries, part II is simply the continuation of Steven's trials and perils.
The story will follow the same part split that was in effect on the original version.
When tugs.net went down, I was at ch: 121 (Part V).

When the story is complete, it'll be available on both E-book and Kindle and each part will be sold as an individual book. Don't mean to spoil any cliff-hangers, but each part (or book) represents the end of something and the beginning of something else.
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Post by LK3869 »

That last chapter is a study in describing hesitations and doubts. I kept mentally shouting at my screen '"Stop thinking and get the hell outta here ! " :lol:
It'd be me, I would have burned the whole camp and Jeep before leaving ...

No idea what your writting was when you started but it's damn good now and such low action chapters show that.
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
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Post by squirrel »

I just managed to catch up a little. Man, this story is amazing, the descriptions very good, the atmosphere - incredible. How I wish I was Steven...
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Post by bondagefreak »

Thanks for the comments guys! Glad you're enjoying this.

[mention]squirrel[/mention] up to which point have you managed to catch up to so far?
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