MY CAPTIVE
[from the RP Files of Mark and Chris]
I've been watching you for two hours now, tightly gagged, blindfolded, and roped to a chair in my hideout.
You’re wearing tight faded jeans, black t-shirt, sneakers and a baseball cap.
I get hard just by the sight of you as my helpless captive.
Your wrists are tightly roped behind the chair.
Your ankles, knees and thighs are tightly lashed together.
Still more clothesline has been firmly wrapped around your arms, stomach and chest, securing you completely to the chair.
Your dark hair swings loose from your hanging head, but I can still see where I’ve blindfolded you and tied a thick blue bandanna to cleave your mouth open.
I stare at you intently, patiently waiting for you to wake so I can see your reaction to what I've done to you. The chloroform has done its job well on you.
You begin moving your head.
Helpless moaning emits from your tightly gagged mouth.
The chair creaks as you begin feeling the ropes that bind you securely.
Your black t-shirt is all bunched up under the ropes as you twist and turn, trying futilely to find the knots to the ropes binding your wrists.
Sweat pours down your gagged face as you begin to realize you’re not going to get yourself untied.
I let your grunts and straining fill the air before suddenly laughing at you.
You fall silent and still, now aware of my presence.
"Might as well stop struggling, Chris. You’re not going to get loose from those ropes, and you’re only going to end up making ‘em tighter. Just relax and accept you’re not going anywhere for a long time.”
I walk over and grab you by the hair, pulling your head up.
"Now listen to me. I'm going to remove your blindfold and gag, but keep in mind that I’ve got a gun. If you give me any trouble, I won't hesitate to knock you out again, do you understand?"
Slowly you shake your head ‘yes.’
"I knew you were a smart boy, Chris.”
I take off your gag and blindfold, and your eyes adjust in the dim light.
I hold a glass of water to your lips and order you to drink.
You hesitate at first, but then you lean in and practically drink down the entire glass because of dry-mouth from the knock-out drug and from being gagged for so long.
You rest back in your chair, exhausted, squint up at me and say in a strained voice: "Why...why are you doing this to me? Are you holding me for ransom or something?"
I laugh at you again and say “No, Chris, this isn't about money. I've planned your kidnapping for a long time now. Been following you close and waiting for then perfect chance to grab you. Just so happens it was today, after your workout at the gym. And no amount of money in the world is going to get you free from me. Not now, not ever!"
You twist in the chair more and say "But you'll never get away with this! Someone will notice I'm missing. The Police will come looking for me. If you untie me and let me go now, I won't tell anyone you did this to me. Please, I just want to go home and forget this whole nightmare.”
"Don't waste hope on a rescue. I've arranged it so no one will ever know you’re missing and being held captive.”
You look at me confused and say, "My family and friends will come looking for me, or at the very least, ask questions when I don't show up.”
I show you a photo on my phone.
"Do you remember being in this picture, Chris?" You look at the photo of yourself and don't recognize where it’s from.
"That looks like me, but I never had this picture taken before. He's wearing my clothes, but I know that’s not me!"
I laugh and say, “That's because it’s not you in the pic. Consider him your Evil Twin. We all have doppelgangers. I was lucky enough to find yours — and down on his luck enough to be willing to go along with my plan. I gave him every detail about your life, and as we speak, he's with your family and friends wearing your clothes, and no one can tell that he's not you. While you begin your new life with me, he's busy taking over your old life, and he’ll never give it back. Not with all the money I’ve paid him. It’s a perfect plan. I have you here as my long term captive, and your family has a new Chris thinking you’re safe and sound with them. No one’s ever coming to look for you, my new friend. You’ll never be free again.”
In a terrified voice, you quiver, “You're insane, this will never work! He’ll slip up, someone will make him tell them what’s happened to me! Please stop this nightmare before it goes too far.”
"Time will tell, Chris, because as of right now, the only people that know you’re here are you, me and our friend Chris Number Two. And he doesn't have a clue where I’m keeping you. I’ve covered my tracks well.”
You slump against the chair, realizing you’re all alone with your kidnapper and no one has any idea that you’ve been taken form your life!
I take up more rope and begin binding it around you and the chair, securing you even more tightly. Tears swell in your eyes as you plead.
"Please don't tie me up any more! The ropes are too tight as it is!”
I pull the coils tighter around your body and say "But I like tying you up, Chris! I've been wanting to do this to you ever since I planned this whole kidnapping. It’s my dream, you see, to keep you tied and gagged, day in and day out. After a few weeks, you'll get used to it. Now stop struggling, and let me finish up!"
You settle down reluctantly as I tightly rope your legs, knees and ankles even closer together. You’re totally helpless and totally scared. Your t-shirt is soaked with sweat, and the ropes cut painfully into your arms and legs. You whimper with each tug of the ropes. I step back to admire my handiwork.
“I like you tied and terrified, Chris. It makes me very excited to see you like this.”
I finish a few more loops around your body and tie off the ends of the rope.
“There, that should discourage you from trying to escape, and keep in mind, Chris, that if you make any attempts to try and get free, I will punish you. That means no food and water, and being left tied up in such an uncomfortable position, the ropes will be absolute torture on your body. Now, I gotta make plans for tying you in another location where you can spend the night. We’ll start first thing in the morning to play our rope games together.”
I grab a rag and hold it to your lips. You turn your head away and say, "No, please, mister, whoever you are, please don't gag me! I'll be a good boy. I won’t…..Mmmmmffffffffff"
I force the thick rag between your teeth and knot it savagely behind your head. The cloth cuts into the corners of your mouth and pries your mouth open. You protest, but your words are reduced to angry, desperate mumbles behind the cloth.
“Bite down on that, Chris, it should keep you relatively quiet while I get things ready for your new life with me!"
Tears pour down your face as you wait there tightly bound and gagged at the mercy of your kidnapper.
You must be wondering what other plans I have for you as the days and weeks tick by.
With no one knowing you’re missing.
And being all alone.
Except for me, of course.
By now you must realize your only chance for survival is to cooperate with your captor.
Maybe he’ll go easier on you next time he’s tying you up.
MY CAPTIVE (M/M) - Pt 1-3
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Deleted User 3263
MY CAPTIVE (M/M) - Pt 1-3
Last edited by Deleted User 3263 4 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
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sharpliketoday
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 30
- Joined: 4 years ago
This was a nice (and hot!) story 
It's always fun to find one written "directly" to the reader. I've greatly enjoyed your other stories as well, the kidnap storylines especially are always a pleasure to read!
It's always fun to find one written "directly" to the reader. I've greatly enjoyed your other stories as well, the kidnap storylines especially are always a pleasure to read!
Another excellent tale! So glad to see a new one from you. As usual, the writing is top notch and you've ticked most of my boxes.
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Deleted User 3263
MY CAPTIVE - PART 2 - ATTEMPTED ESCAPE!
Thirty minutes of struggling feels like thirty hours.
Why am I even in this predicament?
I get that he snuck up on me while I was leaving my house and walking to my car.
I get that he shoved that smelly rag of ether into my face.
By the time I knew what was happening, I was already half in the bag.
There wasn’t enough fight left in me.
But why me?
Why did he target me?
And what kind of lunatic finds and pays off your double so he can, what, keep a guy tied and gagged indefinitely?
How many loose screws do you have to have in your head?
And what the hell else is he plotting to do with me?
“Tie-up games”? What the hell are those?
The only answer I know: this sucks, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with it.
There’s got to be a way out of these ropes. If I just keep straining and pulling —
The chair pops.
No, not pops…cracks.
The back.
It’s structurally weak.
There’s my chance right there…
****
I turn off the music I’ve been listening to while I was securing the bolts and metal clamps to the wall of my closet. Appropriate-sized clamps for the neck, hands and ankles. Hooks outlining a form so I can rope your trim and tight body to the wall. You’ll look good stretched out in my closet like an old fashioned dungeon prisoner. Properly immobilized. Criss-crossed body cocooned in rope. I’ll thoroughly gag you, too, with lots of cloth and tape. Of course, you’ll be blindfolded as well, for good measure. It’ll be a nice way for you to spend the night. And I can open the closet door whenever I want to sneak a peek at my helpless, terrified, captive boy.
I come back into the room where I’m keeping you…only to find you’re GONE!
The chair is broken to pieces, and the ropes lie limply about.
I flash red and yell out: “That was my favorite chair!” I think how many guys I tied to that chair. It was a perfect bondage chair, now look at it! I quickly calm down and rationalize: Nothing is Forever. Not even a favorite bondage chair.
After finding the back door standing open and making sure you aren’t hiding somewhere in the house, I quickly go into action. I have no choice but to track you down before you do something stupid — like go to the cops and lead them back here. Having had you as my captive once, I’m not letting you go so easily. I head out the door with one mission: To recapture you and bring you back!
****
It’s pitch black outside. But I recognize the road I’m on. It’s not far from my own house. Jesus, we live in the same neighborhood.
I quickly realize I can get to my place in no time by running.
Once home, I can call the police and get them out here ASAP.
It takes a bit for the blood flow to return to my ankles. Those ropes were pulled tight.
I hobble along the dark road, rubbing my sore, rope-burned wrists as I turn towards my home.
He must have seen me in the neighborhood, got fixated, decided he needed to take me for his own.
Should I be flattered?
No, I’m creeped out!
I dodged the world’s biggest bullet!
I could have been tied up forever.
Now I just want to get home, let my family know I’m safe, and see that guy thrown in jail for life.
My car is out front, and the house lights are out, but the front door is open.
Inside, pushing through in the dim light, I can see the place is a mess.
Food cartons open everywhere. Furniture re-arranged.
A glow comes from the living room.
Suddenly, a figure appears in the doorway.
I’m standing face-to-face with my identical twin!
Shit. The resemblance is uncanny.
He’s been watching TV, eating ice cream, and he’s wearing my clothes!
In shock, he drops the ice cream spoon to the floor.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” he stammers. “Mark is supposed to have you tied and gagged and stashed away some place.”
“So that’s his name, huh?” I say, digging around the dining room table as he follows me there. “Well, Mark turned his back, and I got away. Now I'm gonna call the police. Your
days of pretending to be me are over. Where’s my phone?” I stop digging when I see him put his hand behind his back. I put my hand out, insisting he hand it over my smart phone.
My twin shakes his head.
"No, I like being you, eating your food, watching your flat screen, wearing your stuff.
Your family and friends all like me — better than they like you. No one misses you. You can't just come back now and ruin this for me!"
“Give me the damn phone,” I yell. “Vacation is over. You and Mark are going to jail for a long time.”
I snatch the phone from him and start to punch in 9-1-1…
…but my air is suddenly choked off.
The phone drops to the floor.
Pressure swells around my neck until everything goes black.
****
I release my chokehold on you, and you groan and slip to the floor, ending on your back. I stand over you, relieved that I arrived just in time to stop you from contacting the police.
"I wanna kill him, Mark!” your twin says. “He was going to ruin everything for me! He has to die, because…because I'm him now!"
I slam your twin against a wall, ready to strangle him.
"If you lay a hand on Chris, the only one that’s going to be killed will be YOU! You're just a cheap imitation of the real thing. Chris is ten times better than you, and don't you forget it.”
The twin glares at me and says "Alright, alright, but he got away from you once. You gotta tie him up better.”
“Don’t worry,” I say coldly. “Now, find all the rope in the house — also bandanas and tape — and bring it here.”
When he returns with the supplies, I tell him to stand lookout while I get you ready to take back to my hideout. Well, “my house,” really, since you know where that is now. But you won’t be seeing the outside of it again. Or telling people its location. I’ll make sure of it.
I roll you onto your stomach and cross your wrists behind your back. I use a ton of rope to lash them together. Lots of knots, too. Next, I tie your elbows together so they touch. I hate to be so cruel with you, Chris, but you have to learn not to try and get away.
I stuff a couple of bandanas inside your mouth, packing then in tight. I take a roll of duct tape and mat it against your lips before winding it several times around your mouth and head, securely gagging you.
I lift you so you’re resting on your knees. I tightly bind rope around your arms, stomach and chest. Helpless moaning comes from your gagged mouth. I guide you on your back, and use more rope to tie your legs above and below the knees. Your ankles are wrapped about a dozen times and tied off between them. Once I’m satisfied with how immobile you are, I lift you to your feet and bend you over my shoulder. I carry you to the front door.
I hand your phone to your twin and tell him to just keep posing as you. If he doesn't make any more demands, he’ll have all the pay and perks he was promised. And everything will work out perfectly.
I carry you outside and dump you inside the trunk of my car. You moan again, and your eyelids flutter. Hoping you can hear me, I lean in and whisper.
“You won’t escape from me again, boy” I say. “You need to remember: You belong to me now.”
I take another piece of rope and bend your legs at the knees. I tightly tie your wrists to your ankles, putting you into a very tight hogtie. Your fingers can almost touch the soles of your sneakers. You groan painfully at this new restriction. You look so helpless, so severely tied and tapegagged — so exciting to me. Your eyes flutter open, as you come to, realizing you’ve been caught and tied once again.
“Rest easy, Chris,” I say. “Soon you'll be back home with me. And maybe I'll forgive you for this attempted escape. Maybe. Someday.”
I slam the trunk lid and speed off down the road back home.
Thirty minutes of struggling feels like thirty hours.
Why am I even in this predicament?
I get that he snuck up on me while I was leaving my house and walking to my car.
I get that he shoved that smelly rag of ether into my face.
By the time I knew what was happening, I was already half in the bag.
There wasn’t enough fight left in me.
But why me?
Why did he target me?
And what kind of lunatic finds and pays off your double so he can, what, keep a guy tied and gagged indefinitely?
How many loose screws do you have to have in your head?
And what the hell else is he plotting to do with me?
“Tie-up games”? What the hell are those?
The only answer I know: this sucks, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to get away with it.
There’s got to be a way out of these ropes. If I just keep straining and pulling —
The chair pops.
No, not pops…cracks.
The back.
It’s structurally weak.
There’s my chance right there…
****
I turn off the music I’ve been listening to while I was securing the bolts and metal clamps to the wall of my closet. Appropriate-sized clamps for the neck, hands and ankles. Hooks outlining a form so I can rope your trim and tight body to the wall. You’ll look good stretched out in my closet like an old fashioned dungeon prisoner. Properly immobilized. Criss-crossed body cocooned in rope. I’ll thoroughly gag you, too, with lots of cloth and tape. Of course, you’ll be blindfolded as well, for good measure. It’ll be a nice way for you to spend the night. And I can open the closet door whenever I want to sneak a peek at my helpless, terrified, captive boy.
I come back into the room where I’m keeping you…only to find you’re GONE!
The chair is broken to pieces, and the ropes lie limply about.
I flash red and yell out: “That was my favorite chair!” I think how many guys I tied to that chair. It was a perfect bondage chair, now look at it! I quickly calm down and rationalize: Nothing is Forever. Not even a favorite bondage chair.
After finding the back door standing open and making sure you aren’t hiding somewhere in the house, I quickly go into action. I have no choice but to track you down before you do something stupid — like go to the cops and lead them back here. Having had you as my captive once, I’m not letting you go so easily. I head out the door with one mission: To recapture you and bring you back!
****
It’s pitch black outside. But I recognize the road I’m on. It’s not far from my own house. Jesus, we live in the same neighborhood.
I quickly realize I can get to my place in no time by running.
Once home, I can call the police and get them out here ASAP.
It takes a bit for the blood flow to return to my ankles. Those ropes were pulled tight.
I hobble along the dark road, rubbing my sore, rope-burned wrists as I turn towards my home.
He must have seen me in the neighborhood, got fixated, decided he needed to take me for his own.
Should I be flattered?
No, I’m creeped out!
I dodged the world’s biggest bullet!
I could have been tied up forever.
Now I just want to get home, let my family know I’m safe, and see that guy thrown in jail for life.
My car is out front, and the house lights are out, but the front door is open.
Inside, pushing through in the dim light, I can see the place is a mess.
Food cartons open everywhere. Furniture re-arranged.
A glow comes from the living room.
Suddenly, a figure appears in the doorway.
I’m standing face-to-face with my identical twin!
Shit. The resemblance is uncanny.
He’s been watching TV, eating ice cream, and he’s wearing my clothes!
In shock, he drops the ice cream spoon to the floor.
“You’re not supposed to be here!” he stammers. “Mark is supposed to have you tied and gagged and stashed away some place.”
“So that’s his name, huh?” I say, digging around the dining room table as he follows me there. “Well, Mark turned his back, and I got away. Now I'm gonna call the police. Your
days of pretending to be me are over. Where’s my phone?” I stop digging when I see him put his hand behind his back. I put my hand out, insisting he hand it over my smart phone.
My twin shakes his head.
"No, I like being you, eating your food, watching your flat screen, wearing your stuff.
Your family and friends all like me — better than they like you. No one misses you. You can't just come back now and ruin this for me!"
“Give me the damn phone,” I yell. “Vacation is over. You and Mark are going to jail for a long time.”
I snatch the phone from him and start to punch in 9-1-1…
…but my air is suddenly choked off.
The phone drops to the floor.
Pressure swells around my neck until everything goes black.
****
I release my chokehold on you, and you groan and slip to the floor, ending on your back. I stand over you, relieved that I arrived just in time to stop you from contacting the police.
"I wanna kill him, Mark!” your twin says. “He was going to ruin everything for me! He has to die, because…because I'm him now!"
I slam your twin against a wall, ready to strangle him.
"If you lay a hand on Chris, the only one that’s going to be killed will be YOU! You're just a cheap imitation of the real thing. Chris is ten times better than you, and don't you forget it.”
The twin glares at me and says "Alright, alright, but he got away from you once. You gotta tie him up better.”
“Don’t worry,” I say coldly. “Now, find all the rope in the house — also bandanas and tape — and bring it here.”
When he returns with the supplies, I tell him to stand lookout while I get you ready to take back to my hideout. Well, “my house,” really, since you know where that is now. But you won’t be seeing the outside of it again. Or telling people its location. I’ll make sure of it.
I roll you onto your stomach and cross your wrists behind your back. I use a ton of rope to lash them together. Lots of knots, too. Next, I tie your elbows together so they touch. I hate to be so cruel with you, Chris, but you have to learn not to try and get away.
I stuff a couple of bandanas inside your mouth, packing then in tight. I take a roll of duct tape and mat it against your lips before winding it several times around your mouth and head, securely gagging you.
I lift you so you’re resting on your knees. I tightly bind rope around your arms, stomach and chest. Helpless moaning comes from your gagged mouth. I guide you on your back, and use more rope to tie your legs above and below the knees. Your ankles are wrapped about a dozen times and tied off between them. Once I’m satisfied with how immobile you are, I lift you to your feet and bend you over my shoulder. I carry you to the front door.
I hand your phone to your twin and tell him to just keep posing as you. If he doesn't make any more demands, he’ll have all the pay and perks he was promised. And everything will work out perfectly.
I carry you outside and dump you inside the trunk of my car. You moan again, and your eyelids flutter. Hoping you can hear me, I lean in and whisper.
“You won’t escape from me again, boy” I say. “You need to remember: You belong to me now.”
I take another piece of rope and bend your legs at the knees. I tightly tie your wrists to your ankles, putting you into a very tight hogtie. Your fingers can almost touch the soles of your sneakers. You groan painfully at this new restriction. You look so helpless, so severely tied and tapegagged — so exciting to me. Your eyes flutter open, as you come to, realizing you’ve been caught and tied once again.
“Rest easy, Chris,” I say. “Soon you'll be back home with me. And maybe I'll forgive you for this attempted escape. Maybe. Someday.”
I slam the trunk lid and speed off down the road back home.
Another great chapter to this awesome story! I like the switch in point of view from Mark to Chris and back. I'm super excited to see how Mark keeps Chris as his captive now. Great work!
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Straitjacketed
- Centennial Club
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- Joined: 5 years ago
- Location: UK
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Loving this. The doppelgänger angle is a nice twist.
If M/M overkill bondage in stupidly excessive amounts of gear is your thing as well as mine, here's a list of my TUG stories.
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privateandrews
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 174
- Joined: 4 years ago
Great story . Love the way you have structured it .. keep up the great writing.
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Deleted User 3263
I greatly appreciate the feedback! It was fun to relive a few RPs from my not-so-distant past!sharpliketoday wrote: ↑4 years ago This was a nice (and hot!) story
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Deleted User 3263
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Deleted User 3263
Will do! Thanks so much for the great feedback!privateandrews wrote: ↑4 years ago Great story . Love the way you have structured it .. keep up the great writing.
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Deleted User 3263
Right? I thought it was a bit too cheese-heaven when we did it in the RP, but it paid (pays) off. More soon...
Great story, can't wait until Mark gets Chris in the closet!
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TightropesEU
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Great story, keep it going please
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Sniffmyfeet
- Centennial Club
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- Location: The Netherlands 🇳🇱
- Contact:
This story is somewhat darker than most other stories which are more playful in character. This story is like a very exciting movie. The way you write it, makes it easy to imagine being Chris (or Mark, for those who'd like to be the villain).
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Deleted User 3263
MY CAPTIVE - PART 3 - PUNISHMENT
[From the RP files of Mark and Chris]
Stupid frickin’ idiot…how could you let yourself be so vulnerable?
Then again, you don’t expect a guy to just sneak up behind and choke you out.
Of course, you don’t expect to be kidnapped either, by said sneaky/choky guy.
Oh hey, just for your information…your neighbor?
He’s a certified psycho!
Which is all the more reason you should have been more On The Defensive!
Stupid frickin’ idiot…
Stop!
What good is debating?
You're stuffed in the trunk of his car.
You have to get free of these ropes —
— and you only have the time it’ll take him to drive around the corner!
Shit!
(The real estate agent lied. “Boring, peaceful neighborhood,” my ass!)
Hard to feel around when you’re hogtied.
With your hands pushed up to your sneakers and shoved against the underside of the trunk.
Wait.
Isn’t there a release latch in the lid?
Did I dream that or see it on a dumb TV cop show?
Anyway, I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything, my fingers have gone numb again.
Can’t reach the knots, either.
And even if I could, these dead digits of mine wouldn’t help.
The car rolls to a stop.
It reverses and turns as it does.
It’s backing into his driveway.
The car slows and pauses.
I’ll scream.
The second he opens the lid, I’ll scream so the neighbors will hear.
They’ll help me.
Unless they’re psycho kidnappers, too.
What if they hear me screaming and all just stroll onto their porches, beers in hand, make toasts, and say:
“Looks like Mark caught a lively one. Have fun. Oh, and don't forget to rake the leaves off your side of the sidewalk. HOA rules.”
I‘ve got to scream.
I’ve got to try to signal for help…
What’s that sound?
Is that a garage door opening?
Shit.
The car backs in, and the garage door sounds again.
Well, at least it was a plan…pathetic as it was…
…but it was the only one I had.
****
Once the garage door closes, and privacy is secured, I open the trunk lid. You try to struggle out, but you end up falling back into the well, making you appear even more vulnerable and powerless. I didn't think anything could excite me more, but that does. That, and the terrified expression in your eyes. I smile down, my still-seething anger barely containing itself.
“Now that we’re home, you’ll not be trying another Houdini trick, understand? I told you. I have plans for you. We shouldn't waste the time we have together playing Hide and Seek — or Hunter and Prey — at least not until I take you to my rural property. Lots of outdoors games we can play there. All sorts of exciting tie-up possibilities.”
I laugh as I unhook your wrists from your ankles and drape your legs out of the trunk. I lift you to your feet and bend you over my shoulder. You make sexy moaning sounds as I carry you inside. I make sure you can feel my hand rubbing your firm ass through your jeans. I want you to know how much I enjoy your helplessness.
We go past the room with the pieces of broken chair (we’ll have words about that later) and into the kitchen. You're dropped into a sturdy chair. A black bag of ropes is on the kitchen table, and I use a few lengths to lash you to the back of the chair. I pull your tied feet behind you and secure them to a rung under the seat. That should keep you in place for the moment.
I rub your sweat-soaked stomach and chest. I like the feel of your body and the ropes keeping you bound. I run my hands down your arms and near your crotch. You try to pull away but can’t. I like feeling you this way. I like having you defenseless and exposed to my playful touches.
“Now, I'm gonna take the tape off your mouth, Chris, but if you give me any more trouble, I'll have to knock you out again. Do we understand each other?" Slowly you shake your head, obviously wanting to have your mouth free — no doubt to beg for your freedom.
After the tape is removed, you spit out the rag, and speak in a weakened voice:
"Thank you, Mark. Do you think I could have some water please? My mouth is so dry.”
I cross to the sink and fill a glass from the tap. But instead of offering it to you, I take a deep drink of the cool, refreshing liquid.
“Sorry, Chris, but you’re being punished for escaping,” I say between sips. “You won't get any food and water ‘til tomorrow…if I’m feeling generous by then.”
You look down at the floor, totally beaten.
“I had a surprise all set for you upstairs, but after your escape attempt, I don’t feel like gifting it to you.”
“I probably wouldn't have liked it anyway,” you say glumly.
I smile.
“Maybe not. But then, it’s not about you any more, is it? You’re my property now. The only one that matters is me.”
I finish off the water and set the glass on the counter.
“Please, let me go,” you say. Your voice is strained and sad. It pleases me.
“Why would I do that?” I laugh. “We haven't even had a chance to play a game yet. Let's fix that!”
I drag your chair to the pantry and open the doors. You look over your shoulder at the cramped closet full of canned and boxed foods.
“What are you doing?” you ask. “Are you going to stuff me in there? There’s no room!”
I push on the shelves of goods, and the two vertical cabinets swing in. That shuts you up. I quickly release the ropes holding you to the chair, bend, and throw you over my shoulder once again. I duck to avoid the door jam and carry you into the secret room beyond the pantry.
****
Light seeps in from the kitchen, but not enough to illuminate the room.
It’s majorly dark in here.
And hanging upside down, it’s hard to grasp exactly where I am.
“What is this?” I finally ask. “What is — where are you taking me?”
At least you’re not feeling-up my ass any longer…
I’m laid out on a wooden slab of some sort.
It’s elevated off the floor.
My impulse is to roll off and try to escape.
But tied as I am, I’d be the Incredible Worm trying to inch his way to freedom.
Plus, I’d probably break all manner of bones with the fall.
He moves away from me.
Busies himself with something in the shadows along the wall.
I wish I could see this room.
I wish there was a little more —
He clicks a dangling chain, and a hanging lightbulb ignites.
Too much light, man! That’s too much —
I squint, and my eyes start to adjust.
I glance around.
The room is a simple, framed space.
An expanded room in the center of the house.
It’s been insulated with black tar paper.
That gives the whole place a foreboding feel.
And there are strange hooks dangling from the ceiling joists.
Ropes hanging in coils on the wall.
And this wooden table I’m resting on —
Well, it’s not quite a wooden table.
There’s something off about it —
A masked face pops into view in from of me. I leap and yell.
“Shit!”
Mark is wearing a weird metal mask with strange patterns all over it.
Wild eyes peer out from oval slits.
He wears a full-length brown robe with a hood draped back.
He’s put on tight black gloves.
Great.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get any creepier…
“You’re awake,” he says in a deep voice. “We can begin the procedure and ceremony.”
“Procedure? Ceremony? What — ”
He places a strong, gloved hand over my mouth, silencing me.
“You thought you’d get material for your story by spying on The Order and all we do here. But you're about to become the story.”
The fuh?
Order?
What the hell is —
Oh, yeah, his twisted game.
I guess, I’m what, a snooping reporter?
Caught ‘cause I got too close to the truth?
Yeah, well, I don’t feel like playing.
His hand moves off my mouth.
“Look, just let me out of here.” I say. “I’ve been gassed and tied up and choked out enough for one day. I don't feel like playing any —”
He pushes something wide and thick in my mouth.
It’s — I think it’s a leather plug of some sort.
Some kinda leather bondage gag.
He straps it behind my head.
At the foot of the slab, he uses a chain to secure my tied feet.
He props me up to sit.
“The table on which you sit is a design of my own making.”
He begins to untie my hands.
“It can be used to extract information or for simple punishment of a prisoner.”
He guides my hands above my head as I’m lowered down to the table.
Both wrists are encased in thick metal cuffs.
I can now see a rotating drum at the top of the slab.
I know its purpose now.
This is Mark’s DIY version of a “rack” — an old-school torture device — courtesy of Home Depot!
“Tonight, we use it for punishment. Before the sacrifice.”
Sacrifice???
What is this sacrifice bull — ?
Shiiiiiit!
He cranks the wheel, and the chains wrap around the drum.
My hands are immediately stretched above me.
The wheel keeps turning.
My body extends and strains.
A blast of pain floods my shoulder sockets.
I cry-out behind the leather plug gag.
He can see and hear my anguish, but he cranks the wheel one more rotation.
Son of a —
He locks the wheel in place and takes up an egg timer, turning the dial to 20 minutes.
He shows me the timer, then sets it on a shelf above the dangling rope.
“This pain is your punishment. Let it cleanse your body. I will return when time is up to
perform the ritual sacrifice. And after I have selected a knife to use.”
He leans in to whisper.
“I keep the good knives upstairs.”
****
I suddenly startle awake.
Was it all a dream?
The pain hits me again.
Shit, it wasn’t a dream.
Man, the pain is intense!
I wasn’t expecting this level of distress.
I must have blacked out.
I have no idea how much time has elapsed.
All I know is that the cabinets are swinging open.
The light from the kitchen reveals a figure in the doorway.
He’s back!
With his good steak knives, I‘m sure.
At least a knife to the heart will put an end to this torture.
The figure approaches and turns on the overhead bulb.
My eyes squint, then focus on the face above me.
Not the man in the metal mask.
I’m staring at…myself!
“Well, well,” my doppelgänger says with an evil grin. “Looks like I got here just in time for the fun.”
[image][/image]
[From the RP files of Mark and Chris]
Stupid frickin’ idiot…how could you let yourself be so vulnerable?
Then again, you don’t expect a guy to just sneak up behind and choke you out.
Of course, you don’t expect to be kidnapped either, by said sneaky/choky guy.
Oh hey, just for your information…your neighbor?
He’s a certified psycho!
Which is all the more reason you should have been more On The Defensive!
Stupid frickin’ idiot…
Stop!
What good is debating?
You're stuffed in the trunk of his car.
You have to get free of these ropes —
— and you only have the time it’ll take him to drive around the corner!
Shit!
(The real estate agent lied. “Boring, peaceful neighborhood,” my ass!)
Hard to feel around when you’re hogtied.
With your hands pushed up to your sneakers and shoved against the underside of the trunk.
Wait.
Isn’t there a release latch in the lid?
Did I dream that or see it on a dumb TV cop show?
Anyway, I can’t feel it. I can’t feel anything, my fingers have gone numb again.
Can’t reach the knots, either.
And even if I could, these dead digits of mine wouldn’t help.
The car rolls to a stop.
It reverses and turns as it does.
It’s backing into his driveway.
The car slows and pauses.
I’ll scream.
The second he opens the lid, I’ll scream so the neighbors will hear.
They’ll help me.
Unless they’re psycho kidnappers, too.
What if they hear me screaming and all just stroll onto their porches, beers in hand, make toasts, and say:
“Looks like Mark caught a lively one. Have fun. Oh, and don't forget to rake the leaves off your side of the sidewalk. HOA rules.”
I‘ve got to scream.
I’ve got to try to signal for help…
What’s that sound?
Is that a garage door opening?
Shit.
The car backs in, and the garage door sounds again.
Well, at least it was a plan…pathetic as it was…
…but it was the only one I had.
****
Once the garage door closes, and privacy is secured, I open the trunk lid. You try to struggle out, but you end up falling back into the well, making you appear even more vulnerable and powerless. I didn't think anything could excite me more, but that does. That, and the terrified expression in your eyes. I smile down, my still-seething anger barely containing itself.
“Now that we’re home, you’ll not be trying another Houdini trick, understand? I told you. I have plans for you. We shouldn't waste the time we have together playing Hide and Seek — or Hunter and Prey — at least not until I take you to my rural property. Lots of outdoors games we can play there. All sorts of exciting tie-up possibilities.”
I laugh as I unhook your wrists from your ankles and drape your legs out of the trunk. I lift you to your feet and bend you over my shoulder. You make sexy moaning sounds as I carry you inside. I make sure you can feel my hand rubbing your firm ass through your jeans. I want you to know how much I enjoy your helplessness.
We go past the room with the pieces of broken chair (we’ll have words about that later) and into the kitchen. You're dropped into a sturdy chair. A black bag of ropes is on the kitchen table, and I use a few lengths to lash you to the back of the chair. I pull your tied feet behind you and secure them to a rung under the seat. That should keep you in place for the moment.
I rub your sweat-soaked stomach and chest. I like the feel of your body and the ropes keeping you bound. I run my hands down your arms and near your crotch. You try to pull away but can’t. I like feeling you this way. I like having you defenseless and exposed to my playful touches.
“Now, I'm gonna take the tape off your mouth, Chris, but if you give me any more trouble, I'll have to knock you out again. Do we understand each other?" Slowly you shake your head, obviously wanting to have your mouth free — no doubt to beg for your freedom.
After the tape is removed, you spit out the rag, and speak in a weakened voice:
"Thank you, Mark. Do you think I could have some water please? My mouth is so dry.”
I cross to the sink and fill a glass from the tap. But instead of offering it to you, I take a deep drink of the cool, refreshing liquid.
“Sorry, Chris, but you’re being punished for escaping,” I say between sips. “You won't get any food and water ‘til tomorrow…if I’m feeling generous by then.”
You look down at the floor, totally beaten.
“I had a surprise all set for you upstairs, but after your escape attempt, I don’t feel like gifting it to you.”
“I probably wouldn't have liked it anyway,” you say glumly.
I smile.
“Maybe not. But then, it’s not about you any more, is it? You’re my property now. The only one that matters is me.”
I finish off the water and set the glass on the counter.
“Please, let me go,” you say. Your voice is strained and sad. It pleases me.
“Why would I do that?” I laugh. “We haven't even had a chance to play a game yet. Let's fix that!”
I drag your chair to the pantry and open the doors. You look over your shoulder at the cramped closet full of canned and boxed foods.
“What are you doing?” you ask. “Are you going to stuff me in there? There’s no room!”
I push on the shelves of goods, and the two vertical cabinets swing in. That shuts you up. I quickly release the ropes holding you to the chair, bend, and throw you over my shoulder once again. I duck to avoid the door jam and carry you into the secret room beyond the pantry.
****
Light seeps in from the kitchen, but not enough to illuminate the room.
It’s majorly dark in here.
And hanging upside down, it’s hard to grasp exactly where I am.
“What is this?” I finally ask. “What is — where are you taking me?”
At least you’re not feeling-up my ass any longer…
I’m laid out on a wooden slab of some sort.
It’s elevated off the floor.
My impulse is to roll off and try to escape.
But tied as I am, I’d be the Incredible Worm trying to inch his way to freedom.
Plus, I’d probably break all manner of bones with the fall.
He moves away from me.
Busies himself with something in the shadows along the wall.
I wish I could see this room.
I wish there was a little more —
He clicks a dangling chain, and a hanging lightbulb ignites.
Too much light, man! That’s too much —
I squint, and my eyes start to adjust.
I glance around.
The room is a simple, framed space.
An expanded room in the center of the house.
It’s been insulated with black tar paper.
That gives the whole place a foreboding feel.
And there are strange hooks dangling from the ceiling joists.
Ropes hanging in coils on the wall.
And this wooden table I’m resting on —
Well, it’s not quite a wooden table.
There’s something off about it —
A masked face pops into view in from of me. I leap and yell.
“Shit!”
Mark is wearing a weird metal mask with strange patterns all over it.
Wild eyes peer out from oval slits.
He wears a full-length brown robe with a hood draped back.
He’s put on tight black gloves.
Great.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get any creepier…
“You’re awake,” he says in a deep voice. “We can begin the procedure and ceremony.”
“Procedure? Ceremony? What — ”
He places a strong, gloved hand over my mouth, silencing me.
“You thought you’d get material for your story by spying on The Order and all we do here. But you're about to become the story.”
The fuh?
Order?
What the hell is —
Oh, yeah, his twisted game.
I guess, I’m what, a snooping reporter?
Caught ‘cause I got too close to the truth?
Yeah, well, I don’t feel like playing.
His hand moves off my mouth.
“Look, just let me out of here.” I say. “I’ve been gassed and tied up and choked out enough for one day. I don't feel like playing any —”
He pushes something wide and thick in my mouth.
It’s — I think it’s a leather plug of some sort.
Some kinda leather bondage gag.
He straps it behind my head.
At the foot of the slab, he uses a chain to secure my tied feet.
He props me up to sit.
“The table on which you sit is a design of my own making.”
He begins to untie my hands.
“It can be used to extract information or for simple punishment of a prisoner.”
He guides my hands above my head as I’m lowered down to the table.
Both wrists are encased in thick metal cuffs.
I can now see a rotating drum at the top of the slab.
I know its purpose now.
This is Mark’s DIY version of a “rack” — an old-school torture device — courtesy of Home Depot!
“Tonight, we use it for punishment. Before the sacrifice.”
Sacrifice???
What is this sacrifice bull — ?
Shiiiiiit!
He cranks the wheel, and the chains wrap around the drum.
My hands are immediately stretched above me.
The wheel keeps turning.
My body extends and strains.
A blast of pain floods my shoulder sockets.
I cry-out behind the leather plug gag.
He can see and hear my anguish, but he cranks the wheel one more rotation.
Son of a —
He locks the wheel in place and takes up an egg timer, turning the dial to 20 minutes.
He shows me the timer, then sets it on a shelf above the dangling rope.
“This pain is your punishment. Let it cleanse your body. I will return when time is up to
perform the ritual sacrifice. And after I have selected a knife to use.”
He leans in to whisper.
“I keep the good knives upstairs.”
****
I suddenly startle awake.
Was it all a dream?
The pain hits me again.
Shit, it wasn’t a dream.
Man, the pain is intense!
I wasn’t expecting this level of distress.
I must have blacked out.
I have no idea how much time has elapsed.
All I know is that the cabinets are swinging open.
The light from the kitchen reveals a figure in the doorway.
He’s back!
With his good steak knives, I‘m sure.
At least a knife to the heart will put an end to this torture.
The figure approaches and turns on the overhead bulb.
My eyes squint, then focus on the face above me.
Not the man in the metal mask.
I’m staring at…myself!
“Well, well,” my doppelgänger says with an evil grin. “Looks like I got here just in time for the fun.”
[image][/image]
You do not have the required permissions to view the files attached to this post.
Scarier and scarier for our poor captive. But what fun for Mark, and now Chris #2 as well.
And pictures are back! Hurrah for pictures!
And pictures are back! Hurrah for pictures!
-
Sniffmyfeet
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 405
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: The Netherlands 🇳🇱
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This is really scary. Normally I can get jealous of the captives in bondage stories but in this story I'm glad I'm not there in his place! But I really like the description you gave of the leather gag. The rack sounds excruciatingly painful (as it's supposed to be I guess). I'm really impressed with the way you tell your story, it's haunting and it's realistic.