Sarobah : 09 - Tent Ropes and Captive Campers (FFF/M, M+/F+)

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Sarobah : 09 - Tent Ropes and Captive Campers (FFF/M, M+/F+)

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09 - Tent Ropes and Captive Campers - Fiction
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By Sarobah

Sat May 19, 2012 2:50 am

This is a rewrite of my earlier story, Tent Ropes and Captive Campers, which I decided could do with a revamp. Most has been substantially revised, although some parts, in particular the prologue, are similar to the original, albeit more polished (hopefully).
Anyway, here it is. As in the original, the people are real and just about everything in the story is true, having happened at one time or another, just not in a single, five-day adventure.


Prologue

Just as we crested the ridge, the fugitive sun at last revealed himself, breaking through the bleak grey blanket of cloud. After many hours of slogging through the dank gloom of the forest, hemmed in by the oppressive stillness, weary, clammy and sore, we paused for just a moment to bask in the soothing warmth and light and to take in the view.

Beyond a ragged hedgerow, stretched out before us was a broad, deep valley in the full bloom of spring. Along its floor, a silver ribbon meandered through a chequerboard of fields and a spiderweb tracery of paved and dirt roads. Scattered across the bluffs and spurs flanking the river were a few isolated farm houses with their attendant sheds and barns. Cattle and horses grazed serenely in the meadows. There was no sign of people, no traffic, no sound but the chirrup of crickets and the chatter of birds.

We started downwards.

I was at the rear of the line, and by the time I had reached the summit, the vanguard of our party was already beginning the descent. I stopped to draw a breath and take in the panorama, before a brusque tug on my halter urged me forward. Rivulets of perspiration seeped into my eyes; a maddening itch tormented my nose; a host of mosquitoes and their arthropodic allies besieged my unprotected flesh; but with my hands bound I was defenceless. My throat was parched, even as the wad of cloth clenched between my teeth was sodden with my sweat and saliva. Errant tree branches and talons of undergrowth clawed at my exposed arms and legs. The straps of my overladen backpack furrowed the skin of my bare shoulders, and the weight grew heavier with each laboured step.

The file bunched up abruptly where a fallen red cedar barred our way forward. Once a giant of the forest, it was now but a sad, decaying hulk. Yet the trunk was still waist high where it straddled the walking track. Two of the boys began assisting Rachel to clamber across. She slipped and pitched sideways, skidding on her backside along the log before sliding off and disappearing on the far side. My brother, who had been reconnoitring farther up the trail, came back and helped her to her feet. Much of her body was caked in mud, a thick, black, gelatinous goo. Alex obligingly dabbed the muck from around her eyes, nose and mouth. He flicked away the leaves and sticks that had pasted to her skin. He readjusted her gag, which had been slightly displaced during her spill.

I did not see Rachel’s expression as she steadied herself, mustering what vestige remained of her dignity, and set off again down the path. Alex scrambled after her, almost losing his own footing on the slimy ground. He seized the leash that trailed behind her and pulled the girl back into her proper place in the line. Meanwhile, behind me I could hear Jenna, stumbling along at the rear of the column. She was gasping and puffing, and must have been wondering what was causing the hold-up. As I blinked away beads of sweat to study the obstacle before me, I was glad it was her turn to wear the blindfold.

The blockage appeared impassable; but at least I could learn from Rachel’s misfortune. Matt took hold of my arm and tried to guide me towards where the trunk bifurcated, but I angrily shook free of his grip. I muffled a warning through my gag, and he backed away. So without his aid, I carefully slung one leg over. With my wrists secured below my belly, I could not use my arms for balance, but I could place my hands on the trunk directly in front to steady myself as I swung my other leg over. My boyfriend stood behind me, ready to catch if I tumbled backwards, but I was extra-cautious. Even so, as I slid down to land squarely on my feet, the coarse bark peeled skin from the backs of my thighs. It stung, but I did not react. I would not allow him the satisfaction.

Once Beth and Jenna had taken their turns to negotiate the barrier, the rest of our passage to the foot of the mountain was incident-free, though no less arduous. We had lost half an hour and so needed to increase our pace to make up for the delay. By the time we reached level ground, I was panting heavily. My leg muscles burned and my shoulders ached. Matt padded my brow and cheeks with his sleeve, and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. He caressed my neck and refitted the loop of rope that encircled my throat, where it had begun to chafe. He massaged my raw shoulders; but he did not relieve me of the oppressive weight of my pack; and once we were ready to move on, without a word he yanked hard on my leash. I followed, unresisting.

Day One

I have never understood people’s infatuation with camping. To me, it’s about sand in your shoes, bugs in your hair, charcoal in your food, spiders in your bed and snakes in the toilet. Whereas my idea of roughing it is no room service. Still, there’s something about a rustling tent, a crackling fire and the smell of carbonized meat that turns folks misty-eyed. So when my good friends organized a hiking and camping trip of our very own, I really had no choice but to go along.

The instigator was Rachel, my otherwise best friend. Knowing my aversion to all thinks camp-like, she undermined my resistance by suborning my boyfriend Matt. I took revenge by inviting my brother Alex – Rachel’s arch nemesis – to join us. Matt, in the meantime, had recruited his buddy Ricardo, who brought along his girlfriend Beth. Rachel, who was then between loves of her life, looked askance at our twosomes, and dreading the prospect of a pair-up with my brother, tried to break up the couplings by issuing a summons to classmates Hamish and Jenna, whose only shared feelings were a fiery hatred. Alex, feeling left out as the youngest, and bereft of gal pals, invited his sidekick Osman (alias Oz-Man, aka Oz). And so we were nine.

We were an odd mix, but in a way that worked in our favour – like putting together a bunch of noxious chemicals and making perfume. A five-day expedition was planned, into the national park about an hour’s journey from home. Beth and Matt drove us there. They were the logical choice, being the only ones among us with both a licence and a car. We aimed at setting up our first camp after a full day’s trek that would take us to the foothills. On the second day, we would hike for about six hours into the mountains, to a secluded place that Rachel assured us was a slice of paradise (without explaining specifically what that meant). On day three, we would have to cross a series of precipitous ridges and gorges, to make camp on a river terrace which Rachel claimed as another – you guessed it – slice of paradise. After that, following a day of rest and recuperation, and no doubt having had our fill of paradisiacs, on the final day we would skirt the high country and return to our base, via a circuitous route that was nevertheless essentially flat.

Day one went as planned. We left the cars in a secure parking spot at the ranger station, where we also filed the details of our excursion in case of an emergency. Then we set off into the wilderness. We reached our objective on schedule, about an hour before sunset, and managed to get our tents up and a fire started just as the darkness closed in. Even I had to concede it was rather romantic to be out there in the middle of nowhere, with just my friends, gazing into the cavorting flames, cooking sausages and potatoes in the coals, while flamboyant clouds of glowing embers rose like whirling dervishes into the evening air and danced among the stars.

Since we had to carry everything we needed on our backs, we’d brought with us just two tents. The couples – Beth and Rick, Matt and yours truly – took one, while the other three boys and two girls had the second. Rachel and Jenna found no problem with this arrangement, or at least they had no choice except to haul their own tent or sleep out in the open. Nevertheless, they lay down a harsh set of rules for the guys – “No rude noises, no dirty jokes, no self-service... and stay in your own bed!”

Of course, we also had to ration sleeping bags, so it was a good thing that the nights were warm at this time of year. Each tent was allocated two. Alex, Oz and Hamish agreed to rotate one on a nightly basis, and gallantly allowed Rachel and Jenna to have the other. The girls didn’t mind sharing (at the same time, that is), to the delight of the boys who were to be quickly disillusioned. Meanwhile, we couples each had our own. However, we were too tired for anything but slumber. Yet as I snuggled up to Matt, I thought how well things had gone. Maybe this was not such a bad idea after all. My only grumble was that four more days of hiking could become a tad monotonous. It would be nice to have something to liven things up. And as the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for, because it just may come true.

Sarobah
Australia


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Day Two

It was heavily overcast when we got started on the second leg of our trek. While the cloud cover was welcome as we trudged up the mountainside, the threat of rain lingered all morning. However, by early afternoon as we approached our objective, the sky had cleared. We had traversed several extensive ridges, scrambling up and down gullies, plodding over corrugated ground that in the space of a few steps would turn from sunbaked hard to soft and greasy. Sometimes the trail was as broad as your outstretched arms and as clearly defined as though it had been paved with mudstone tiles. In other places it almost disappeared into the enveloping thickets and it was near impossible for me to see even Matt, just two or three paces ahead. Yet Rachel, at the front of the line with a topographic map, a keen sense of direction and unfailing optimism, kept us unerringly on track.

Around two in the afternoon, we established camp in a clearing amidst a stand of majestic Antarctic beeches, on the bank of a small creek that emptied into a pond about the size of a domestic swimming pool. Again, I had to admit that the setting was sublime. A carpet of grass verged the pond, emerald green and soft as velvet, and here we pitched our tents. The perimeter of trees and its fringe of shrubbery gave us complete privacy, in the unlikely event that other hikers might wander this far up the trail. The little bubbling stream provided fresh water. A nearby pile of small boulders made an ideal hearth for our campfire.

The boys began collecting and chopping firewood, putting up the tents and digging a latrine. We girls unpacked the rest of the gear, which took just a few minutes, then we stripped down to our bikinis and made for the water. Now I should say, in defence of self-reliant womanhood, that the guys had insisted on doing all the heavy, hairy-chested manwork. They no doubt felt the need to show off their bushcraft; but I must add – rather spitefully – that the end product was no great tribute to their skills. The fire was somewhat less than robust, the tents were lopsided and the latrine was but a shallow trench of little practical use to man or beast. But they did their best and were proud of their efforts. There were good feelings all round, and this was truly the proverbial calm before the storm.

I tested the pond with a tentative toe. It was crystal clear but icy cold, so we made a hasty retreat; and the boys, once their tasks were completed, also decided that swimming was out of the question. Instead, they set off along the creek, Matt and Alex upstream, Rick and Oz downstream, to find a good spot for fishing. Hamish stayed behind, to put the finishing touches to the fireplace. It was his masterwork, and we tried not to disabuse him... except for Rachel.

She was in a playful mood. After teasing Hamish about the quality of his “erection”, she accused him of staying behind just so he could perv on us in our bikinis. To escape retribution, she made a sudden dash for the pond and plunged into the water. I, not wishing to be outdone in the impetuosity stakes, leapt in after her. Beth and Jenna followed, wading in timidly. We were, of course, insane. The cold shock passed through my body like an electric charge.

Hamish witnessed our bravado with baffled amusement, but Rachel continued to taunt him. He refused to take the bait.

“Why don’t you join us?” she finally said. “Afraid of shrinkage?”

“Not a problem for you,” he responded, gesturing towards her chest. I glanced down at mine. The effect of low temperature on the sleek fabric of a Lycra bikini top is outstanding, in the most literal sense.

Rachel made more disparaging remarks, flaunting our fearless audacity; and Jenna weighed in, impugning his manhood. It was a straw too much, and as we emerged shivering from the water, a grappling match ensued. Beth and I joined the fray, and together we got the better of heavily outgunned Hamish. At first, he was happy to be overpowered by four bikini-clad wenches; but Rachel got the idea of tying him up.

The closest thing to hand was a surplus tent rope, so I grabbed it and when we had him on his knees, I began wrapping it around him. However, we quickly discovered how difficult it is to restrain someone when they are struggling desperately to evade the ropes. We gave up trying to pull his flailing arms behind his back, but we managed to bind his wrists in front. Securing his thrashing feet was even harder. We pushed him onto his stomach, but just as we succeeded, the other guys returned to camp.

The battle of the sexes was now on. Rick dashed into the mêlée, thrust us aside and quickly freed Hamish. After that, it was Team Girl’s turn to be outnumbered and outmuscled, and so we fled.

Rick and Hamish went after Rachel. They dragged her to the ground and wrestled her onto her belly.

“Payback’s a bitch!” Hamish sneered as she shrieked.

As this was happening, Beth tried to break for the safety of the trees, but she was tackled by Matt. He stumbled as he reached for her; but even as he hit the dirt he flung out a hand to grab her ankle and she went down with a yelp. Alex was immediately on top of her, forcing her face-down into the grass and wrenching her arms behind her back.

Meanwhile, Jenna and I had taken advantage of the confusion to seek refuge behind the tents. We were quickly spotted by Oz. As he advanced, we gave each other a quick glance and a nod. Realizing the hopelessness of our position, eschewing both fight and flight, we raised our hands and clasped them behind our heads. Yet our surrender counted for nothing. Oz commanded us to kneel, and even as I did so he shoved me to the ground and onto my stomach. He straddled my rear end, seized my wrists and yanked them behind my back. Jenna was still kneeling passively beside us, as I looked up and saw Matt stripping one of the tents of its ropes.

Rick and Hamish were still manhandling Rachel, but she was weakening. Yet their efforts to bind her made it obvious that they had never tied up anyone before, at least not a victim who refused to submit. So Alex, while trussing a cowered Beth, was calmly calling out instructions: “Cross her wrists in the middle of her back... yeah, like that... now loop the rope around the wrists, then between them... that’s it, you got it.”

Rachel gasped and grunted as Hamish enjoyed his revenge, binding her with the same rope she had tried to use on him. Even so, she continued to struggle. Twice she managed to roll over and once even to wriggle free of her captors’ clutches, before at last conceding defeat. Rick sat on her backside, pressing on her knees. Hamish crouched by her side, tying her wrists and then her elbows with such rigour that they almost touched behind her back. Rick then bound her ankles. Finally, with my brother’s guidance, they put her into a full hog-tie. She groaned and swore and spat out a mouthful of sod.

Alex continued his more methodical hog-tie of Beth, who was staring straight ahead, just blinking and making “oh” and “oo” shapes with her mouth. Meanwhile, Matt hovered over everyone, proffering more advice: “Not too tight... but not so loose there... make sure the skin isn’t pinched... don’t choke her...”

While I watched powerless as my friends were being subdued, with Oz astride my body pinning my arms behind me, I felt rather ashamed that we had succumbed so easily, even Rachel, whose effort had not been up to Hamish’s heroic defiance. Nevertheless, I could not help but feel some perverse pride as well. It was, after all, I who had taught both my baby brother and my boyfriend how to tie up girls. Clearly I had been a first-rate teacher and they had proved excellent students. Then again, I guess it was like teaching the devil how to sin.

Oz also showed himself to be a fast learner. He was efficient, albeit not gentle. As a veteran of many bondage adventures, I knew better than to offer resistance that could only make things worse for me; but I did not escape a strenuous hog-tie. He bound my arms as tight as he could, taking Matt’s counsel to make several coils around my ankles, wrists and upper arms to spread the pressure so the rope wouldn’t break my skin or cut blood circulation.

“We can keep them tied up longer that way,” he explained, so we would not mistake where his sympathy lay.

Further on Matt’s advice, Oz looped another rope around my neck, and ran it crisscrossed between my breasts, then under my armpits and behind my back, where he pulled hard to attach it to my wrists. The effect was to tug my shoulders and bend my torso backwards, thereby pushing out my chest, so emphatically that I was sure my overstressed bikini top would pop right off. Every muscle and every sinew in my body was stretched and strained and twisted.

I groaned. Oz leaned over me to look at my face. I must have been a frightful sight because he asked, “Are you all right?”

“She’s okay.” That was my darling little brother calling out.

To his credit, Oz waited for me to answer. Through gritted teeth I snarled “I’m fine. Do your worst!’

I straightaway regretted that impulsive challenge. In fact, I’d meant to say “I’ve had worse.” Oh well, I was certain the boys would be doing it anyway.

Poor bewildered Jenna was still kneeling next to me, hands clasped behind her head, as I wallowed helpless in the grass. She sighed loudly as the other four males, their own work complete, came over to join us.

“She’s yours, Ham,” Oz volunteered, and the rest of the guys grunted their assent.

Hamish’s enmity with Jenna was common knowledge. It was manifested in a mostly good-natured rivalry but inspired by a festering detestation which on occasion erupted into blazing hostility. I’m sure he had an unrequited crush on her. She was statuesque and gorgeous, half a head taller than him, passionate and petulant. In most of their past clashes, she had held the upper hand. Not this time.

As she was being bound, by no means gently, Jenna never uttered a sound, not even a whimper. She kept her body limp, with no attempt at futile defiance. I knew what she was thinking – “I won’t give them the satisfaction” – but I also knew what a vain consolation that was. Hamish was, I had no doubt, more than satisfied.

While he was having his fun, the other boys brought Rachel and Beth over to join us. Since both girls had been hog-tied, they had to be carried. They were dumped unceremoniously on the grass by my side. The four of us were arranged in a rough circle facing inwards, prostrate and impotent, as our captors stood over us, admiring their handiwork. They had us in different variations of hog-ties, with Rachel and Jenna getting the worst of it, because they had been worked on by vengeance-seeking Hamish. Their hands were tied between their ankles, which meant that their knees and shoulders were raised well off the ground. Their faces were red and contorted, not so much with pain but from the exhausting effort of keeping the body arched backwards to ease the strain.

Rachel was puffing and moaning; but when Rick leaned over her – whether to tighten or loosen the ropes I couldn’t tell – she rolled onto her side to evade his hands. Hamish used his foot to push her back in place – not a kick but an unkind shove nevertheless, with the heel of his boot. She screamed a lungful of curses, which sort of lost their effect as the stream of invective dissolved into a fit of giggles. However, Matt decided that she needed to be punished. He rushed off to our tent while the rest of us, those on the ground as well as those erect, watched to see what he was up to. He returned with a large handkerchief, which he was already folding into a clump. He squatted beside her and put one hand on her brow to push her head back.

“No!” she cried, clamping her jaws as he pressed the wad against her lips. He dug his fingertips into her cheeks to force her to open up, to no avail. Alex then resolved the impasse by tickling her feet. She held out for just a few more seconds before yelling “I surren....duurrrrgh!” Matt didn’t give her time to finish as he thrust the handkerchief into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but he took the very last piece of rope and tied it around her head to hold the gag in place. Looking stunned and beaten, she just blinked a couple of times before closing her eyes.

Beth’s hog-tie, by contrast, gave her plenty of room for movement. Her knees were bent only at right angles and her feet were bound with ankles crossed, so she could adjust her posture and position. Since it was my brother who had done the deed, this was not due to an amateurish tying job. She received the light treatment because, I guess, shy Beth was the most innocuous of us obstreperous females. On the other hand, hers was the flimsiest bikini, and the tie-string bra-strap had come undone. Alex gallantly refastened it.

I got off more easily than I should have. Oz had tied my hands with my palms facing outwards, which was particularly hard on my arms, and like the other girls except Beth, my elbows were bound as well. Fortunately, despite Matt’s guidance, he didn’t have the experience to secure the ropes properly, and after just a few minutes I was able to loosen them. Even so, this was one of my toughest challenges. The grass was starting to irritate my skin, and my arms and legs were beginning to ache badly. Slackening the hog-tie actually worked against me, because the more I relaxed my legs, the tighter was drawn the yoke around my neck and chest.

Rachel appeared to be coping well, even though the strain on her back and shoulders must have been excruciating. Whereas Jenna was already showing signs of severe distress. So I asked the boys that we be untied. Matt – my dear boyfriend – said we’d have to beg. And so, setting aside my dignity and pride, I pleaded with all the abject, fawning supplication I could contrive. The guys conferred, and they decided that two of us could go free. I knew it would be Jenna and Beth, and I made a show of remonstration. Nonetheless, the choice suited me. I realized that the game wasn’t over and I was keen to find out what was coming next. Rachel likewise swore at them once more, but her smirking “I can take it!” expression said it all.
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Day 2 continued...

As Beth and Jenna massaged the circulation back into their limbs, they each gave Rachel and me a strange look, both sympathetic and censorious. They took seats beside Rick, Oz and Hamish on a low mound while Matt and Alex put on a show with their two captives. They played with us for an hour or so, applying all sorts of tie-ups and gagging techniques to impress their audience and each other with their knowledge and skill. I could have spoilt their chest-thumping by reminding them who had taught them most of their tricks, but sometimes you’ve just got to let the boys have their fun. In any case, before long Rachel and I were moaning with exhaustion and frustration, as we struggled in ever more strict and intricate bondage. Yet each time Matt or Alex asked if we’d had enough, I sputtered though my gag, “Is that the best you’ve got?” Poor Rachel just mumbled a protest but shook her head, sometimes slowly, sometimes with vigour.

Still, panache has its price, and I felt monumental relief when Matt finally began untying me. I didn’t even mind that he left my wrists bound as he helped me to my feet. Rachel and I studied each other, begrimed and bedraggled, and it was hard not to laugh at how pathetic we looked. It was now late afternoon, the sun was sliding quickly towards the mountain rim, the breeze was picking up and we were beginning to shiver in our bikinis. However, our ordeal was far from over. For one of the guys said we needed a serious wash. After one and a half hours of rolling and squirming in the dirt, we certainly did, though not in the way I knew they meant.

With our hands still pinioned behind our backs, Rachel and I were frog-marched down to the pond. We were made to kneel by the edge of the water, and Matt tossed a couple of cakes of soap onto the ground between us. But the guys decided that the chore of getting us clean belonged to Beth and Jenna. In a charitable mood I would say that they chose to leave us a tiny shred of decorum by not doing it themselves. In a less generous frame of mind, I reckon they were chary of the freezing water. And, of course, they wanted a show.

I wasn’t going to be dunked and so, mustering my pride, I got up off my knees and stepped in. With a sigh of resignation, Rachel joined me, as we squatted waist-deep in our icy bath. The only mercy was that within a very short time our legs and backsides were numb. Beth and Jenna stepped in after us, shuddering at the first touch of the cold. They did a consummate and unapologetic job of cleaning us, lathering and rinsing and scrubbing; maybe a little too thorough. I detected in Beth’s eyes a glimmer of vengeful glee... and perhaps something else.

Beth and Jenna were also pretty grubby, so after they were done with Rachel and me, they washed themselves. All this time, our audience sat on their mound paying close and keen attention. By the time we rose teeth-chatteringly from the pool, we were starting to turn an aesthetic shade of blue. Matt took it upon himself to towel me dry – I hadn’t realized I was so wet in so many out-of-the-way places. Finally, our hands were untied and all four of us were allowed to change into something warm. When we emerged from the tent, Hamish was stoking the fire and Oz was laying out the cooking gear. Matt and Alex were re-erecting the other tent, which they’d demolished for its ropes.

We girls prepared the meal while the guys went for their wash. They were also sweaty and smelly from the day’s hike, but we weren’t privileged to see their ablutions. Except that Rachel did sneak one peek, and returned shaking her head.

“Wimps,” was all she said.

From then on, everyone acted like it was just a normal camping trip, and for the rest of the evening it was. By the time dinner was served and eaten, four of us at least were too tired for more fun and games.

Matt and I sat beside the campfire until the last flames died away. By the time we went to bed, Beth and Rick were already asleep. In the dim, orange glow of the lantern, I could tell from the way their bodies were embraced in the sleeping bag that they had taken advantage of their hour alone in the tent. Matt gave me one of his suggestive looks but I shook my head. We limited ourselves to some kiss and cuddle inside our cocoon, but that was nice, before fatigue overcame us both.

Around midnight, I woke. Matt’s arms were folded around me and I didn’t want to rouse him, so I just lay still and listened to the sounds of the night. Something rustled just outside the tent – probably an owl or a possum. Off in the distance, crickets chirped and frogs croaked; and every so often there was a sudden and eerie silence. I drifted back into sleep.
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Day Three

I awoke to the glare of sunlight peering cheerily though the open tent-flaps, to the sound of birds twittering frenetically, the merry crackling of the fire, the aroma of frying bacon and simmering coffee. I had a vague recollection of Matt some time earlier manoeuvring himself out of our tangle of limbs and telling me to go back to sleep.

I staggered out into the cool air, filled my lungs and cleared my head. Everyone else was up and about, the boys in the process of demolishing the other tent, Beth and Rachel preparing breakfast. Jenna was wandering around the edge of the clearing, collecting dry wood.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” I demanded.

Beth chuckled. “We thought you might be tired after staying up late,” she said. I didn’t react. “With Matt,” she added.

“I get it,” I finally replied. “Don’t be cheeky. Anyway, we were just giving you and the Rickster some quality time together.”

She turned back to the frypan with a been-caught-out blush.

Rachel handed me a mug of coffee, as Jenna dropped an armload of kindling beside the fire. I pitched in to help with the chores. After breakfast, Rachel and I retired to the remaining tent to get changed into our hiking clothes. Rachel suggested we should wear our bikinis.

“To give the boys a treat?” I asked. She was like that, always a bit of a flirt.

“No, silly, to give ourselves a treat.”

Rather to my surprise, I agreed. And as I emerged from the tent into the morning chill, my skin began to tingle. Beth and Jenna gave us reproachful looks, but they both jumped onto the bikini bandwagon. I expected that of Beth, but Jenna surprised me. Not only the most stubborn of us, she’s also the most practical. And she was right, of course. We faced some hard trekking in the hours ahead, across rugged terrain, through dense forest. The boys were far more suitably attired to face the hazards of nature, in jeans and T-shirts.

Jenna gave Rachel and me a resentful glare as she massaged the goosebumps from her bare arms and legs; but I did not miss her subtle smile as she carefully ignored the approving scrutiny of the boys.

Before leaving the campsite, we ensured that the fire had been properly smothered. The latrine was completely buried and its brushwood screen dismantled and scattered. We then scoured the entire area, picking up every last piece of debris and detritus.

It was already turning sultry as we made final preparations for departure. Like we’d done the previous two days, since we had to carry all our clothing and equipment on our backs, we distributed the weight evenly amongst us, with allowance for size. As the smallest in the group, I had the lightest burden, just my own personal belongings and a sleeping bag. Matt and Rick hauled the heaviest loads.

It was when we were kitted up and set to go that Matt made his move. It was probably on impulse rather than premeditated. He made a show of checking my backpack to ensure that everything was secured and balanced. Then he came round and stood directly in front of me. Wondering what the delay was, everyone turned to see what was going on – except Alex, who was already facing us, aware of exactly what was afoot. That makes me think that this may have been planned. Am I paranoid to suspect that everything nefarious which happens to me carries the imprimatur of my brother?

Matt told me to hold out my arms. I obeyed, and knowing what was to come, I placed my wrists together. He tied them with one end of a two metre long piece of nylon cord. As he did so, I stared past him towards the other girls. Rachel just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. Beth, who had started to look away, did a rather comical double-take. Jenna frowned, rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Alex moved up behind Rachel, took hold of her arms and tried to pull them behind her back. She didn’t resist, but her knapsack prevented him completing the job. She compliantly turned about and allowed him to bind her wrists in front, like mine. He then went further, looping the rope around her waist and securing her wrists to it, at belly button height. Matt tried to do the same to me, but he couldn’t get the rope under my pack. So he ran it instead between my legs and secured it to one of the D-rings on the bottom of the pack. He pulled it tight with a vicious tug that made me gasp and the other girls wince. I was forced to bend forward, with my hands lodged between my thighs, to keep the rope from burrowing into the contours of my crotch.

There was a silent, suspenseful pause as the others considered what was happening. Quick-thinking Alex took advantage to ransack the tent bags strapped to Matt’s pack for ropes, which he tossed to each of the guys. Rick whispered something to Beth; she smiled, whispered something back and submitted. Matt reminded him to wrap the rope several times around her wrists, apply a cinch and make sure the knot went underneath so she wouldn’t be able to untie it with her teeth.

“Thanks for that,” Beth said. Like me, she got the crotch rope treatment. I saw her shiver and shudder, and barely suppress a giggle of delight, as Rick applied it.

I was so sure that Jenna would refuse to be bound that I was wondering what might come to pass if the guys insisted and she resisted. Then I saw the glint in her eyes, and I knew what she was thinking. She liked being in charge of our girl group, and this was her chance. Yet she immediately changed her mind, and I think the catalyst was the expressions on the faces of Hamish and Oz, who were looking at her and fondling their ropes. She flinched, almost imperceptibly, as their gazes roamed the length and breadth of her bikini-clad form. That’s when she realized where her loyalties lay. She wasn’t one of the boys. She held out her hands.

Yet she got off easier than the rest of us. Once her wrists were bound, the guys didn’t finish off with a waist or crotch rope. I guess they were afraid that she might balk, which would set off the rest of us having second thoughts, and the game could end.

The nine of us were standing in an approximate semi-circle, staring silently at one another. Then Matt reached in and rummaged through Alex’s pack until he drew out a pair of socks. He examined them, even sniffed them, before declaring “Don’t worry, they’re clean.”

As he rolled and folded the socks, I knew what was coming. When realization dawned on the other girls, their eyes widened and their jaws clamped shut. But I opened up and Matt inserted the woollen ball. It was dry and astringent against my lips and tongue, not the nicest gag I’ve worn.

Matt said “Okay?” and I nodded. He didn’t need to tie it in place. The elastic properties of the sock meant that the wad expanded inside my mouth, held in place behind my teeth. With a bit of effort I could have pushed it out with my tongue; but it was well clear of my throat, and after it had absorbed some of my saliva it didn’t taste so furry.

Rachel was next, followed by Beth and then, after more tense hesitation, Jenna. I shall give the boys credit – they knew in what order to seduce us into submission. Rachel, as usual, accepted her gag with resignation, Beth with apprehension, Jenna with indignation. None of them made even a show of defiance, at least not until it was too late. Jenna then issued forth a sequence of muffled and gargled blasphemies and imprecations that lasted until we had long since cleared the campsite.

Yet our degradation was not yet complete. Oz, who had not had the chance to do any gagging, decided to make his own contribution. He poked around in Matt’s pack and came up with four more coils of rope. I wondered what he was up to, until he tied a noose at the end of one piece and dropped it over my head. He adjusted it around my throat, leaving a length of about a metre. Matt understood and did the same with Rachel. Once the four of us were in our halters, the boys knotted the ropes together so we were joined in a single file, not much more than an arm’s distance apart.

“Move out!” one of the guys yelled. I think it was Alex. Rachel was in the vanguard of our column, and she obeyed immediately. Her first stride took me, second in line, by surprise and yanked on our leash, tightening the loop about her throat. She squawked through her gag.

“That’ll teach you to be so eager,” I thought, as I took up the march.

We set off once more into the wilderness. As we trudged towards the summit of the first ridge, I began to grasp just what I had let myself in for. Yet for the first couple of hours, it was fun, in an adrenalin-inducing way. Twice the track cut across a public road, and we had to crouch down in the ditch at the side in case there was traffic. It would not do for unsuspecting motorists to see us – four bikini-clad captives, bound and gagged, being led on halters through the forest by five teenage boys. We once came close to panic when we thought we were about to encounter another group of travellers on the path. It turned out to be a scrub turkey, nearly as spooked as we were.

When we stopped for our first break, around ten in the morning, we were sweating and panting, my bent back was aching and my throat was parched. I was grateful for the brief rest, but the ordeal was about to get so much worse.
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Day 3 continued...

As we progressed, the journey had become more arduous, the path meandering and undulating, sometimes skirting and in other places cresting a seemingly endless succession of ridges and gullies. The forest closed in on all sides and the air was dank and oppressive. At this altitude, and underneath the dense canopy, the temperature had fallen dramatically. Rather than being warmed by the exertion, I found that my perspiration clung to my skin like prickly beads of ice. I speedily came to regret having given in to Rachel’s impulse and worn my bikini. Low-hanging tree branches and strands of underbrush were lashing and lacerating my bare arms and legs and torso – nothing serious, but a constant irritation that, with my hands immobilized, I could neither prevent nor relieve. Then there were the insects which buzzed around my face and tormented my unprotected flesh. Before setting out, we had applied lavish layers of repellent, which seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

By the time we halted, I was in a foul mood; but when Matt removed my gag to allow me a drink from his water bottle and asked me “How are you doing?” I snapped back “Fine!”

That must have inspired Rachel, still leashed to me and sipping from Alex’s canteen. “This is fun,” she said, in that warbly tone her voice takes on when you cannot tell if she’s being serious or sarcastic. I sighed as my boyfriend reinserted my gag. It was not a smart thing for her to say, especially when Jenna continued with something like “This is nothing, I can go like this all day.”

Hamish gloated. “Let’s find out then, shall we?’

The guys looked around at each other for ideas, and it was – of course – my depraved brother who came up with the first idea. Since we had only stopped for a five-minute rest, we were still wearing our rucksacks. Alex went behind Matt and began undoing the straps that held the tent on his back.

For a couple of seconds I thought “Surely we’re not setting up camp already.” Then it occurred to me what we were in for. “Silly girl,” I scolded myself.

Hamish and Rick got the message just as I did and began unhitching their four captives from our tethers, while Oz relieved Rick of his tent. From each kit Alex removed the bag containing the iron stakes and pegs and hooks. Rachel and Jenna began protesting through their gags as the boys strapped the tents to their backpacks. Otherwise, Rachel remained compliant, whereas Jenna began to squirm and make even louder noises. Hamish and Oz held her by her pinioned arms while Rick and Matt secured her load.

“How’s that, tough chick?” Hamish laughed.

The girl’s knees began to buckle under the weight, but exaggerating the strain did not help our cause.

“Lose the dramatics,” he barked. “We’re not finished.”

Beth and I were allocated the equipment bags to haul. They were less massive than the tents, though still quite heavy. But Hamish was not kidding. He, Oz and Alex decided to ease their own burdens as well. They divested themselves of the cooking gear and other stuff – I estimate that the five guys dumped nearly half their bundles onto the backs of us four girls. It was a good thing that we travelled light – the extra load was not as torturous as it might have been. But we still had hours of hard trekking ahead of us, and we were still bound and gagged.

It was to be Oz, somewhat surprisingly, who decided that there was still something missing in the game. He conferred with Alex, who came up behind me and began groping through my backpack. Laden down, with bits and pieces hanging off every strap and ring attached to my pack, I almost lost my balance, until he yelled “Gotcha!”

I knew what he was after, and as he began folding my camo-pattern bandana, my heart sank even more than my drooping body. However, I don’t recall which I felt more of, relief or outrage, when he looked around and said “Now, which one?” He grinned – actually, it was more a malevolent leer. “Don’t worry, girls, you’ll all get your turn.”

I think Rachel knew she would be first. I saw just a wistful stare into the distance as the darkness descended over her eyes. But she was breathing heavily. Her chest heaved and tiny bubbles of saliva appeared at the corners of her mouth, pushing past the wad of socks.

These diversions had delayed us by around half an hour, putting us behind our rather strict timetable. I was wondering if the boys realized that by loading up the four of us they would slowing us all down even more. But once we got moving and developed some momentum, I found that the weight of my load was not as onerous as I’d expected. In fact, weird though it might sound, it was a source of some considerable pride that we bore our burdens so well. We were determined to prove that we were strong enough to endure the hardship, and indeed to stake a claim for being tougher than the guys. Yet it wasn’t too long before the straps of my pack began to dig and burn into the bare skin of my shoulders. It was also frustratingly awkward to walk with my hands lodged between my thighs. I had to lean forward, which shifted the weight on my back and threw off my sense of equilibrium; but when I straightened my body for relief, the rope burrowed into my crotch, making it even more difficult to shuffle along the winding trail. It was, to say, the least, a challenge.

On this leg of our hike, we were not tethered in a line, as before. Each guy took one of the halters to lead us by the neck. Hamish put an extra harness on Jenna so that both he and Oz could lead her. Matt amused himself by every so often tugging sharply on my leash and forcing me into a quickstep to catch up with him. Rachel, who was up ahead with my brother, was naturally having an even harder time of it. She stumbled a few times, once ending up on her knees in the greasy mud. Alex tried to help her to stay upright and to guide her around branches sticking out onto the track and tree roots sticking up out of the mud, but with only partial success. Besides being a dazzling beauty, Rachel was lithe, athletic and graceful of movement; but that counts for very little when you’re bound, gagged, blindfolded and tethered.

By midday, some four hours into our trek, I was feeling miserable. Sweat which I couldn’t wipe away trickled down my forehead into my eyes, making me almost as effectively blind as Rachel. I had also developed a raging thirst from the physical effort but also on account of my gag. The socks had become soaked with my saliva, which oozed out, dribbled down my chin and dripped onto my chest. But instead alleviating the thirst, this made it worst by draining the moisture from my throat; and the sodden woollen fibres irritated my mouth, making me salivate even more.

And yet, pushing past beyond the agony there was the sense of elation that I always feel during a long tie-up session – that my physical endurance and mental stamina has been tested and reaffirmed. This, after all, is the thrill that lies at the heart of all my tie-up adventures, the struggle against not just the ropes but my limits and limitations. But in the words of the Iron Duke, it was “the nearest-run thing you ever saw in your life.” I was close to quitting. I had no doubt that if I – or any of the girls – showed any real sign of distress, we would be immediately freed of both our bonds and our burdens. And the guys could hardly taunt or tease us for giving up, having not endured the same ordeal.

But none of us threw in the towel; and it was Beth’s resolution that impressed me the most. Rachel was too proud and Jenna too stubborn to concede defeat. I was enjoying myself (most of the time). Beth, however, carried on through sheer tenacity. She’s the sort of inscrutable person who will occasionally surprise you by being everything you thought she wasn’t.

Nevertheless, when we took a respite on the summit of the steepest ridge we’d climbed all morning, we were too beat to continue. The boys removed our gags once more and gave us a drink and a share of their lunch. Although they took off their backpacks, we girls kept ours on. The boys weren’t being cruel – it would simply take too long to reattach everything. So we each found a boulder or a tree trunk to sit by and lean against. However, our hands remained tied, and we had to be assisted in sitting and helped to get up again. Yet just a few minutes later, Beth announced that she had to pee. The rest of us concurred.

The boys grumbled, and for an instant I feared they wouldn't untie us; but they did, and we found a convenient bush to relieve ourselves behind. Immediately we returned, our wrists were bound as before.

Once we’d been gagged once more and were getting ready to set out, I was hoping that the blindfold had been forgotten. No such luck, but it was Jenna’s turn. Even though it was in her nature to make futile complaints, she remained silent and still. We had by now reached the point where we just accepted our fate. We took up our positions, Rachel out in front with Matt. They were the most familiar with the trail, having walked it several times. So Alex took control of my leash.

“Move it, sis,” he sneered as he pulled on the rope to urge me forward.
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Day 3 continued...

As we reached the crest of the last of the ridges we had to cross, the forest fell away and the sun broke through the clouds. For a few fleeting moments it was wonderfully rejuvenating to feel the fresh breeze and warming light on my skin. But all too soon, as we started downwards, the trees closed in around us once more. We still had hours of slog ahead of us, and the encounter with the fallen red cedar had done nothing for my morale.

Then it got worse. From the rear of the column, one of the boys, Oz I think, called out something. We halted, there was a moment’s pause, and then I heard footsteps coming up behind me. Before I could turn – which was not easy to do the way I was bound and weighed down – my head was pulled back and my world was suddenly shrouded in darkness. I groaned and wriggled about, the best I could do to protest, but as soon as my blindfold was secured in place I was urged forward by my tether. After that, my memory of the trek into the valley becomes hazy. My awareness was subsumed into that peculiar combination of sensory deprivation and overload, when your regular input channels are cut off from the outside world, and your body and brain fine-tune their perception and responses so as to absorb any information they can gather from your surroundings. You become more alert to what’s all around you – sounds and smells and textures you don’t normally pick up; and that can be an awesome experience. But it also intensifies the bad stuff – the stings and pricks and itches that wouldn’t otherwise be a bother; and that can be a dreadful ordeal. I love it.

In my daze, I also lost track of time. When Alex finally took off the blindfold, my “What’s going on?” filtered through the socks stuffed in my mouth as a slurry of gurgles and grunts, but he just smiled and turned his face towards the sun peering through a break in the canopy. It was no longer anywhere near overhead, and I realized that I had been shuffling sightless along the track for something like two hours.

Up ahead, I saw that the undergrowth was becoming thicker but the trees more scattered. That meant we were nearly out of the woods. The ground was still uneven, but here where the light penetrated all the way, it was at least dry and hard. However, the four of us girls were caked chin to toe in disgusting mud and slime from our numerous slips and falls. As noisome as it was, this had served to protect our bare skin inside the forest, but now the goo quickly hardened into a prickly, pungent crust.

The trail we were following had become easy to lose in places as it merged into the thickening undergrowth, and Rachel had taken over as chief guide. I watched her, up at the front of the line with Matt, trying to keep him on the right course with frenetic, half-intelligible noises through her gag and comical gestures with her bound hands. When that didn’t work, she’d try to point the way with her foot, but with her overloaded backpack she’d lose her precarious balance and begin toppling to one side or the other, and Matt would have to thrust out his arms to save her. It was amusing to watch, but she was getting quite worked up about it, especially when he pretended to miss one of her signals. It also began to delay our march, so I was getting frustrated as well. Gradually, however, the land we were traversing was getting less steep and flatter. We had just about reached the valley floor. Our destination, a grove of trees nestled in a bend of the river, was no longer visible, but it beckoned from beyond our shrunken horizon with a tantalizing promise of a rest and a wash.

So near the end, my endurance began to falter. My legs started to buckle under the strain and every so often I sank to my knees, to be helped up again by Alex, sometimes with the help of one of the other guys. I wonder if they realized or even cared that it took the two of them to lift me back onto steady feet. Yet it was exhilarating, and invigorating, fighting back the fatigue and the pain. As much as I resented the guys, with their lightened burdens and no bonds, I was proud of the way we, their captives, had met the challenge, overcoming our frailties and dealing with our fears.

Even so, it came as a blessed relief when we eventually reached our objective. The sun was hovering just above the horizon. The men reconnoitred the area and chose for our campsite a shallow depression about the size of a typical suburban yard, on a verdant hillside. Like the previous locations, it was pretty and secluded. Only then were we girls untethered and untied. Shedding my pack, I spat out some lint, exercised my jaws and massaged my wrists. We were smelly from mud and sweat, our skin speckled and freckled with scratches, welts and insect bites. I stretched my aching arm and leg muscles.

“Don’t get used to it,” Alex warned.

“Oh no,” Beth sighed, as my brother seized my arms, turned me around and bound my wrists behind my back. Matt did the same for Rachel, and I wondered how Beth and Jenna would respond; but as before they meekly surrendered. They weren’t going to show it, but I’m sure they were now enjoying the game as much as Rachel and I. However, Jenna howled with indignation when Hamish and Oz gagged her. They had to force the wad in, as she started chomping frantically, and secured it with a piece of cord. She squirmed and kicked, and the guys wrestled her to the ground. She fell heavily on her side and Oz landed on her chest, forcing the breath out of her lungs. She went still for a few seconds. Oz scrambled off her body and the two boys stared at her, inert in the grass, with worried expressions. Suddenly she sprang back to life and lashed out with both feet, landing one directly in Hamish’s crotch. He stumbled backwards, more in shock than in pain; but she was quickly subdued with a hog-tie, one much more rigorous than what she’d endured the previous day.

“This won’t end well,” Alex laughed, as he advanced on poor Rachel.

Before long, the four of us were wriggling and whimpering, trussed and gagged and furious with the guys. Yet they only toyed with us for a few minutes because it was getting dark. Then Matt bent over Beth and Rachel and prodded at their ropes.

“If we untie you, do you promise to obey?”

Panting through her gag, each closed her eyes and nodded. They were untied and assisted Alex and Hamish in building a fire and cooking the dinner, while the others put up the tents. Jenna and I remained prostrate and helpless and starting to feel the chill as the last ruddy glow of daylight faded into night.
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Day 3 continued...

It was not for another half-hour that Matt came to check on us, by which time I was aching all over from the constrictions of my hog-tie. He crouched down beside me, stroked my head gently and ran his hand down my arm and along my thigh. As he caressed my skin the goosebumps tingled. His hand slid between my legs and played there awhile, before gliding over my hips and across my backside to fondle the flesh under the edge of my bikini. I was shivering so much that my whole body began to tremble. It was not just the cold.

All of a sudden, he looked up, said “Okay” to someone and untied the rope connecting my wrists and ankles. I slowly stretched out my legs – I could almost hear the stiff joints creaking. He freed my feet and assisted me to stand upright. I waited while he did the same for Jenna. As he was doing so, Alex arrived and removed my gag. But before I could express my gratitude, he covered my mouth with one hand while holding up something with the other. It was by now night-time, and he was silhouetted against the orange glow of the campfire so I couldn’t make out what he was showing me, but I was not surprised when a veil of darkness descended.

“Don’t move about,” he snarled, as he secured the knot at the back of my head.

“I’m cold,” I snarled back.

“No worry,” he replied in a voice more tender than I would normally expect from my brother. Still behind me, he checked my wrists to ensure the rope hadn’t come loose. Then he took hold of my arms and steered me towards the campfire. With each tentative step closer to the flames, it was like a warm breeze wafting over me, brushing away the chill.

I sighed.

“You okay?”

“Good, Alex... Thanks.”

That was enough heart-warming sibling affection for one evening. He jabbed me in the back of my knees with his, and I started to lower myself into a kneeling position.

“No, dopey, lift,” he growled.

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

He ignored my protest, so I raised my right leg and warily pushed my foot forward until I felt something smooth and cylindrical on the ground ahead. The boys had set up logs around the fire, and had even stripped off the bark to make them more comfortable. I carefully stepped over and Alex helped me to get seated. Jenna was perched beside me. The logs weren’t very big and I had my legs splayed in order to sit properly; but I felt Matt’s hands pushing my knees and feet together. (I knew they were his, because he kissed me on the forehead.) He bound my ankles.

There was movement and talking about us, but I didn’t pay attention. I just basked in the warmth. Sometime later we had dinner. Our supplies were still holding out well – not surprising, since Beth and I, the two most dependable members of the group, had been responsible for provisioning. My reward for such foresight was to be fed my meal by Matt, who made a game of taunting and teasing, holding the fork or spoon just out of reach until I felt like Tantalus, groping for the fruit... except the Greek guy wasn’t blindfolded. When he tired of toying with me that way, Matt would – with a melodramatic “Oops, so sorry” – miss my mouth and smear the food over my chin, cheeks and nose. It was funny at first, but quickly grew tiresome.

Jenna must have been receiving the same treatment, because she suddenly clamped her lips and began making mmm-mmm sounds. I thought she had been gagged, until Alex said “All right, my sincerest apologies. Now open up.”

Silly girl. A moment later she spluttered “What the... why you... that’s my...”

I didn’t want to know.

It must have been Rachel and Beth who cleared the dinner debris, because the males were still bunched around the campfire talking as I heard stuff being taken away.

Finally, Rachel said “Can we get cleaned up now?”

I had almost forgotten how dirty and smelly we must be.

“Of course.” Matt ordered Jenna and me to get up, and told Beth and Rachel to help us to stand. The four of us were instructed to move away from the fire, to just outside the circle of light cast by the dancing flames. It was bitterly cold, but we were at least in darkness as we were commanded to strip off our bikinis. Naturally, Beth and Rachel had to do it for Jenna and me. Since I was wearing a tie-string halter-neck top, it could be taken off without my hands needing to be untied. Her fingers were like quivering icicles on my bare shoulders.

I must have flinched.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.

“Toss them over here,” Matt said.

Rachel started to grumble, but held it in.

Being naked didn’t make much difference in terms of the cold, and I was certain that the guys could not see much of us, if anything at all, in the shadows. But I dreaded what was to come, as imperative as it might be. We made our way to the river bank. The water was shallow, since we were camped on the inward side of a tight bend in the stream, and was approached across a broad sandy shelf. To get there, however, we had to climb out of the depression and negotiate a few dozen metres of tall grass and shrub, in the darkness (except for a sickly pale moon hovering near the horizon), with Rachel and Beth guiding the two of us bound and blindfolded. Actually, the blindfolds no longer made much of a difference.

We shrieked and screeched as we entered the water, and straight away felt foolish because it was several degrees warmer than the atmosphere. Beth gave me another meticulous, all-over scrubbing.

“I think this means we’re now formally engaged,” she said at the end.

When we made our way back to the edge of the campsite, the boys invited us to stand by the fire, but we graciously declined. One of them tossed us towels.

“Just two?” Rachel groaned.

“Make the most of it.”

We were by now trembling violently, so we decided that arguing was not the wisest course. Beth dabbed and padded my body. The towel was already damp from using it to dry her own. She drew it up between my legs for a final flourish.

“That seals it; it’s now official,” she declared.

After that, we were told we could go back to our tents to get dressed. Jenna and I were given permission to be untied and take off our blindfolds. However, when Rachel tried to free my wrists, the knot was wet and shrunken, and it was too tight for her to undo. Matt came to help. He didn’t want to cut it since it was one of the reserve tent ropes, but eventually he had to. In gratitude I gave him a hug. The warmth of his body against mine was pleasant enough, but feeling the fabric of his shirt and trousers pressed against my naked body only gave me more shivers. I pulled away and went to the tent.

After that, we all sat around the fire until the flames sank slowly into the embers. We actually had a sing-along, something I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. Beth and Rick retired early again, and once more Matt and I were the last to turn in. He gave me a meaningful look, but I sadly shook my head. Still, I felt a bit sorry for him – rather strange, considering how I’d spent the day – so I took my clothes off but told him to keep his on. That way we could do some snuggling and cuddling inside the sleeping bag without going all the way. He seemed happy with that.
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Day Four

It was too much to hope that our weather luck would hold for another day. At around dawn – or what should have been dawn – I was awoken by the roar of heavy rainfall on the roof of the tent. All I could do was go back to sleep. Perhaps an hour later, Matt came alive. Our arms and legs were still intertwined, so he carefully and quietly extricated himself from the tangle, looking very pleased with his effort until I whispered “I’m awake, you know.”

“So are we,” came Beth’s voice from the other sleeping bag. Then she giggled and her head disappeared inside, and there ensued all sorts of odd motions and strange sounds emanating from within. I tried to picture what was happening, and then tried not to.

I pulled on a pair of knickers, shorts and a singlet, as Matt opened the tent flap and peered out into the grey gloom. “Stay here,” he said. Since I had no intention of doing otherwise, I slithered back into my warm and cosy cocoon, as he braced himself with a couple of deep breaths and then made a dash for the other tent. In fact, he need not have run, because the rain had actually stopped by now. However, it was a good thing we had sealed-seam floors, because the ground outside was ankle-deep in water that had been gushing for the last few hours down the sides of the hollow in which we’d set up camp.

Matt returned and said something to Rick, who had emerged from the sack and was putting on his jeans and jacket. The two guys went off again. Beth turned to me with a quizzical expression, and then we waited. Another minute or two passed, and I checked outside just in time to see the five men coming towards us, carrying something large between them. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a sleeping bag, heavily weighed down. They hauled it into our tent and dumped it at our feet. There was something inside moving about. It was like a huge, olive green slug wriggling and writhing about on the ground. I heard muffled moans.

Hamish unzipped the top end and out of it poked the heads of Rachel and Jenna. They were fused in a tight and not very comfortable-looking embrace. From the contours of their bodies, I could tell that Rachel’s arms were bound behind her back, with Jenna’s wrapped around her partner’s torso so their wrists could be tied together. They were both gagged, and the wads stuffed into their mouths had been joined in a dumbbell shape, so their faces were up against each other. Jenna’s eyes were clamped shut; whereas Rachel’s were flitting about randomly, sort of glazed over, until her gaze locked onto mine and they suddenly sparkled – it could have been a blaze of indignation, or it may have been the fire of arousal, because the sleeping bag began to heave and undulate at the place where their hips and thighs connected. Jenna was squirming, and I don’t think she was even aware of the effect her movements were having on her helpless cuddle buddy.

The seven of us watching said nothing for what I imagine was several minutes. I think we were all mesmerized by the spectacle – it was at the same time grotesque, endearing and sexy. But then Alex broke the spell, and I suspect he did so deliberately. He’s always had a “thing” for Rachel, and he could clearly see that she was becoming agitated.

“I’m hungry,” he declared. “This is getting boring.”

No it wasn’t, but Matt was the first to get the message. “Yeah, let’s get moving while the rain’s let up.”

I crawled out of my sleeping bag. It wasn’t cold, but the damp air wafting into the tent tingled my skin. I felt foolish for not having packed jeans and a warm top, like the boys were wearing. Rachel’s philosophy – which I latch onto far too often for my own good – is that you don’t mind the cold when you can look hot. But the best I can manage is cute, and that’s poor recompense for the goosebumps.

Well, I’m not going to suffer alone, I thought, and turned to Beth. The guys did as well.

She frowned, buried deep within her bedding.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well what?” Hamish said.

“I’m naked in here!”

The four guys swung their heads around to give Rick the customary look of respect, approval and envy. But they dutifully filed out of the tent.

“You too, mister,” she growled. Rick started to say something, thought better of it, and followed the others. Beth put on her shorts and a sleeveless tee, while I checked on Rachel and Jenna. Their faces were flushed. I stroked their foreheads, which were hot and moist with perspiration. I untied and removed their conjoined gags. Rachel licked and puckered her lips.

“Thank you, sweetness.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Jenna grumbled. “Now how about you get us out of this?”

I glanced across at Beth, who shook her head, then down at Rachel, who just smiled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel reassured.

“Yeah, you don’t want to get in trouble...” Jenna’s expression suddenly morphed from caustic grimace to congenial grin. Inside the sleeping bag, Rachel’s right leg was moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

“At least we get out of chores,” Jenna said between gasps and giggles.

So we left the two of them to entertain themselves. We ate breakfast, and cleaned up just as the rain was beginning once more.

“We’re not going anywhere today,” Oz mused as we stowed the cooking equipment under a fallen log which gave some decent cover. We had planned this to be our day of rest, but there was no way we would have wanted to move on in any case. The return hike was quicker than the outward trek but included several creek crossings and some ground that would be treacherous in the wet. So we were stuck here for at least one day. I had the unpleasant thought that if the weather took a turn for the even worse, it might be several.

Matt’s brow furrowed, he conferred with Rick and Oz, who happened to be standing the closest, and then he pointed at Beth and me.

“You two, go join your...”

I did not let him finish, since I was not prepared to argue. I grabbed Beth’s arm and we went back to the tent. Rachel and Jenna were lying together peacefully, panting quietly and looking very contented.

“Hope we’re not interrupting anything. Please don’t stop on our account.” Beth’s deadpan expression was priceless. She can be so adorably naive that sometimes it’ hard to tell if she’s serious.

“Care to join us?”

“Oh, we probably will.”

The three of them stared at me. Beth groaned, Jenna pouted, Rachel beamed.

It did not take long. I heard a strange shuffling and scraping outside. The boys were dragging the other tent towards ours. It was a light-frame structure that you can shift with relative ease without having to dismantle it, provided you’re careful. They moved it until the two entrances merged to create a single, double-sized unit. If we had to spend the better part of the morning and perhaps the entire day inside, this was an ingenious solution. It was still cramped and a bit stuffy, because there was no natural opening, but it was liveable.

For the next couple of hours, as the drizzle became a downpour, the boys played poker, fiddled with their rods and tackle (fishing, that is), and talked about the usual guy stuff (things with wheels and motors, things with bats and balls, things with breasts, that sort of thing).

And what were we girls doing? Funny you should ask.

Rachel squealed and Jenna yelled, but only briefly, as Matt and Hamish shoved their gags back into place. They had been lying on their sides, but the boys rolled them until Rachel was lying atop Jenna. Since both girls’ hands were tied behind Rachel’s back, this was the best way, but Jenna immediately began puffing and moaning. Perhaps Rachel should have been offended, because she’s not that heavy; but if she was she had no way of showing it. She just relaxed and let her partner carry her dead weight.

Beth and I awaited our turn. We both had the same fleeting thought, I’m sure – to make our escape while the guys were preoccupied with their cocooned captives. But where was there to go, but out into the rain? So we accepted our fate.

“Into the bag,” Matt commanded. He gestured towards Beth’s and Rick’s and I hesitated. I pictured in my mind what they had been up to in there the previous couple of nights. But Beth had instantly obeyed. I wriggled in beside her and we zipped up. Alex was already uncoiling a couple of tent ropes.

Matt’s face went funny, as it does when he has a flash of inspiration.

“Take your clothes off,” he said.

I was on my right side, Beth on her left, our bodies not touching. Yet I felt the heat radiate from her skin as she flushed and blushed at his command.

“No!” Rick blurted out – louder than he had meant to, because he lowered his tone to continue. “Each other’s.”

We both just sighed. I reached down to Beth’s hips. Her shorts had an unusual hook and side zipper which took some manoeuvring to unfasten, and then I pushed them down to her knees. Meanwhile, she undid the knot on the tie-string of my shorts and knickers and slid them down my thighs. After that, the choreography got trickier. We put as much space as we could between us, then I raised my knees as high as I was able, and after some wriggling and squirming she got my pants free. I did the same with hers.

Matt held out his hand.

“Don’t you trust us?” I asked, but he didn’t answer and we handed them over.

It was easier to get each other’s tops off.

“Snuggle up, ladies,” we were instructed. Beth signed again as we drew in close until we were in contact. We were still on our sides, so we each wrapped our free arm around each other’s waist, with the underneath arm up around the head. It was an awkward pose but the least uncomfortable, especially as I had a good idea of what was coming. Matt pulled down the top of the sleeping bag enough to expose our bare shoulders but not our boobs. We were not yet done with. Rick and Hamish lifted us while Matt and Alex passed the ropes under us and then around us in three loops, one at waist level, one around the knees and a third around our ankles. They could make them very tight, because the padding of the bag acted as an effective cushion, but the result was that we were pressed and held together, cheek to cheek, our arms and legs pinned and interlocked, our curves and crevices dovetailing in a soft, warm communion of naked flesh.

I could feel Beth getting aroused. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t be,” I whispered back. It was happening to me too.

I sniffed her hair, silky and fragrant. I tasted the sweetness of her breath. I felt her tingling, quivering skin, the gentle, steady heaving of her breasts, the twitching of her belly and the twitching between her legs as each tiny movement by one of us sent sensuous ripples through the other. At first it was unintended, a natural response to the intimacy of our embrace. But as the time passed, the tedium began to overwhelm the nice feelings, and so we began to play with each other’s receptive parts, taking it in turns to see who could pleasure the other without alerting the boys. They were sitting right beside us, feigning indifference but in fact quite oblivious to what their prisoners were up to.

Unlike the other two girls, we weren’t gagged, but we dared not say a word. When lunchtime came, we were offered something to eat and something to drink. All four of us declined. Poor Rachel and Jenna hadn’t eaten since last night. But trussed and helpless inside our body bags, none of us wanted to risk the consequences of a full bladder, or worse.

It was shortly thereafter, not long past midday, that the sun burst through the scattering clouds. The boys decided to go fishing. I thought we were going to be released – it had been at least four hours now. Instead, Hamish volunteered to stay behind, to watch over us. He didn’t stay inside the tent but returned ever so often to check up on us. Rachel and Jenna’s gags had been removed and we were permitted to talk – or at least we were able to when our warden wasn’t present. None of us wanted to test his indulgence by presuming to speak within his range of hearing. So to keep our minds occupied and out thoughts away from our stiffening limbs, we gabbed and gossiped for the next few hours. It was the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had – regular girl talk but in the most irregular of circumstances. Jenna was her usual opinionated self, but no one raised the obvious topic, until finally Beth brought it up.

“Why do you think they left us like this?” she asked

“Because they’re guys, and guys are rodents,” Jenna explained.

“What are you complaining about?” I said. “Isn’t this fun?”

I grunted as Beth jammed her thigh into my crotch.

“Do you two want to be left alone?” Rachel lifted herself as much as she could to see over her partner’s shoulder. They had long since rolled onto their sides so her body no longer rested on top of Jenna’s.

“Is anyone else beginning to...” Beth stopped herself before completing what I am sure was a sentence we would all regret hearing. I was already getting a tickling between my legs that had nothing to do with our mutually stimulating movements, except to make it worse. When you can’t do anything about it, the best strategy is to not think about it. But once it’s wedged inside your brain, it’s like being told to think about anything but elephants.

Not before time, the boys returned to camp, and our ordeal came to an abrupt end. We were released from our cocoons and emerged stretching and flexing cramped and aching muscles, smoothing out kinks and creases. We straightaway made a dash for the clump of trees where the latrine had been dug, Beth and I pausing just long enough to pull on shorts and tops. We came back looking dishevelled but relieved, and apparently embarrassed, because the boys took pity on us. There would be no more sport with the females this day.

While we were getting ready to prepare dinner, Beth said to me, “By the way, I must thank you for a most interesting experience.”

“My pleasure,” I said. “I hope you’ll still respect me tomorrow.”

As sunset approached, it started raining again and we took refuge once more in the tents. The boys, a couple of times, gazed wistfully at the sleeping bags, but we girls had had more than enough. Rick and Matt seemed especially disappointed. With our abodes now conjoined, there would be no other fun and games that night.
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Canuck100
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Post by Canuck100 »

In case anyone would be interested, a slightly different version of this story was posted in 2008. You can find it here, in the webarchives

Also, Sarobah had added some interesting comments after the story :

--------------------------------
Sun Sep 07, 2008 8:13 pm

Thank you for the compliments. I am working on a fictionalized version of another adventure.

If anyone’s interested...

One reader (fan?) PMed me expressing interest (scepticism?) in my claim that everything in this story is essentially true. In the interests of full disclosure, I have already addressed this in my original version, but here’s the full story:

Day one – I really do hate camping as much as I described – I love hiking so long as I can return to a nice, warm, comfy hotel (hopefully with room service).

Day two – The incident with the icy-cold pond, bikinis and Hamish getting tied happened on a camping trip; but the revenge didn’t come straight away. That night, Rachel and I were tied up in our sleeping bags – an episode I moved to day four in this latest version.
The tie-up game is a synthesis of several such incidents, one of which did involve Rachel and Beth. The washing episode happened but it wasn’t a camping trip and the girls were different (except me of course).

Day three – I was once foolish enough to hike for a full day in my bikini through a rainforest, and despite a thick coating of insect repellent I was eaten alive. Not a very smart thing to do. We (there were two of us) weren’t bound and gagged though. On a dare, I agreed to carry the guys’ backpacks as well as my own – they conned me into it. It was excruciating, and I cursed all the way, just for the satisfaction of saying I could do it. I am still a sucker for a dare.

The bound while hiking escapade is also fusion of several adventures. For example, during one of the “commando” games I have described in another story: for some reason (probably because I was talking too much), my teammates decided to tie me up and gag me, and naturally I didn’t protest. My bound wrists were attached to the backpack of one of the guys. They thought they were punishing me, but of course I loved it!

The naked around the campfire scene is also real, and – if I remember correctly – happened on the same camping trip as the one described on day two.

Day four – The sleeping bag episode is a fantasized version of the one mentioned above.

Day five –Trekking along bush tracks blindfolded is something I’m an old hand at. Heck, I can do it with one hand – err, two hands – tied behind my back.

As for the used-gag scene... well to repeat what I’ve said before: “Yes, true. For many folks there is an automatic ewww! reflex, but really, is it any worse than being gagged with your own panties or a pair of dirty socks – and we’ve all been there... haven’t we?”

To repeat (ad nauseum?) camping is not my scene, but if I can spice it up with some tie-up games, it becomes almost bearable.

~ sarah
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