Surviving The Past: Complete (MM/F)

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Surviving The Past: Complete (MM/F)

Post by Beaumains »

“Hoo-h’HOO-hoo-hoo,” an owl screamed in the middle of the darkened Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia. Five tents of thick grey canvas stood in a circle, and a fire pit with two sleepy men burned in their midst. In one tent, Freya slept deep and dreamlessly under a woolen blanket. She wore a Victorian long white nightgown. Her shoulder-long, walnut brown hair fell over the edges of the rigid, sheep skin-covered camp bed. A cameraman filmed the 18-year-old. Freya had been thrilled for tonight, but the production crew had made her walk a long hike during the day. Now, she slept like a log. Without unease, she breathed through her half-open mouth and rolled around on the bed.

At three in the morning, two men and another cameraman slipped into the tent and knelt down next to Freya. In coordination, one man seized her arms while the other pressed a cloth between her teeth. A figure-eight knot in the middle filled most of her mouth and removed her breath.

“Ieehhff, ieeehh,” Freya screeched as the gag was fastened behind her head. It took a few seconds for her to calm and breathe through her nose. One intruder pulled Freya up by her wrists and flung her over his shoulder as they dashed out of the tent.

“Halt, stop. Stand still!” one guard by the campfire shouted. He fruitlessly chased down the abductors, but it was too late. They had entered the cover of the night already.

The man holding Freya pressed her arms and head against his belly with one hand, and his other arm wrapped around her hips that hung over his shoulder. The two men, two cameramen, and a producer ran away from the tents. Guided by the full moon, they jumped at the exact right moment not to trip over the many rocks and branches. Freya hung upside down, and many unexpected bumps made it an unpleasant journey for her. Conscious and disturbed, she screamed into the gag and kicked into his back as he trembled through the ferns and piles of leaves. It had begun.

“Stop it,” the man hissed, and Freya reddened. She recognized him: Roman Byrd, the television survival expert. The stern, trustworthy voice of the green-eyed Minnesota wildman had narrated sketchy wilderness adventures for half of her youth. Now, she was on his show Surviving The Past, where he reenacted historic survival scenarios. The producers had barred her from meeting him earlier in the day to capture their first impression of each other. It was too good to be true that he carried her through the woods she had traversed a zillion times. Playing her damsel role, she kicked him again, instinctively knowing a camera filmed the incident. Roman groaned, making Freya blush once more.

“This slows us down. We should tie her up,” Finley Vega, Roman’s cohost, stated, reaching for his backpack. He showed four coils of hemp rope to the camera. With his long, raven black hair, Freya deemed him less handsome. But still, meeting him was also a dream coming true.

Roman lay Freya on a large flat boulder, planted his knee softly on her shoulder, and bent her arms behind her back such that her hands grabbed her elbows. He turned to the camera and explained the situation while binding her wrists. “As Etha kept struggling, and as Isaac’s and William’s journey north would take many more days, they had to bind the 16-year old girl. Now the entire British force spread throughout the woods hunting down the rebels who stole their colonel’s daughter. Isaac and William had to hurry, but now also discovered that William’s backpack with food and water still lay in the tent. Isaac had little himself. This had become a survival situation while they also had a captive and a small army chasing them. Etha, Isaac, and William’s unique story forces us to determine whether this is an old myth or whether this ridiculous plot is plausible.”

Roman finished the tie, and Freya marked it was tight. Several cinches made sure wiggling out would be hard. The rope was less abrasive than she had expected, but it had enough bite that it would not slip loose. Next, Roman tied a second rope around her upper arms and under her breasts, so her wrists could never slide out.

“Freya is a local eagle scout who started her environmental studies degree this fall,” Finley explained. Meanwhile, he stuck Freya’s bare ankles together with rope. “She spent half her youth in these forests and has been tied up plenty of times. She’s a perfect victim for this experiment. As usual, we stick to the scenario as close as possible, and so Freya will stay tied up all the time. We’ll track her and her health to make sure she stays safe and sane.”

“Yes, but to encourage her to escape, we offer her a 25000 dollar scholarship if she manages to break free,” Roman interrupted his colleague. “We’ll be nice and friendly to Freya as Isaac and William were during the war. She will not escape nor taste freedom. It will be a real battle between the three of us.”

Freya nodded to confirm this agreement. She had signed the contract and waiver the previous day in astonishment that the show was real. The scenario was scripted, but the obstacles and challenges were genuine.

“You stay no chance,” Roman whispered in Freya’s ear as Finley bound Freya’s knees together over the white nightgown. “Try whatever you want, but you will lose.” Roman picked her up again, one arm under her knees and supporting her back, and the two continued their nightly walk. Freya, starstruck, was delighted with her gag. She had no snarky reply to Roman’s taunting but craved to beat him.
Last edited by Beaumains 2 years ago, edited 11 times in total.
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Post by slackywacky »

Now that is a great story concept. Thanks for writing this first part.
Maybe people missed this story, which would be a shame, as it is worth reading.

Can't wait to see what happens. Keep it coming.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Rtj65 »

This is a really fun concept for a story, would enjoy seeing how this re-enactment continues!
Male switch from the UK here, always up for a chat about anything TUGs related!

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Post by Beaumains »

Thanks a lot guys! It is a novel concept (AFAIK) and a bit complicated. I hope to write another chapter somewhere in the next few days.
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Post by Tieup1 »

A good start, look forward to reading more :)
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Post by Beaumains »

Tieup1 wrote: 3 years ago A good start, look forward to reading more :)
Thanks! Here is more.
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The group spent the last hours of the night walking north in the moonlit forest. The scenario forced them to do not have electronics, and torches would reveal their position to their fictional pursuers. The terrain gradually increased in difficulty as the roots got thicker, the rocks larger, and the gradients steeper. It slowed the pace significantly.

Freya enjoyed the colors, sounds, and smells of the night as Roman carried her. Pressed against his muscular breast and with his thick arms around her, she felt safe. The producer made her struggle for a few shots but knew escaping was hopeless. She had trouble not to stare into the cameras or be embarrassed by the unfashionable dress, bounds, and gag. Fortunately, Roman was able to calm her. He explained the history of the Revolutionary War and its current standings to the camera with Finley. Freya listened and relaxed, hoping to catch up on the sleep she had missed. When the first colors of the sun appeared, the crew climbed a large boulder.

“Roman, get those tender hairs of that stinky shirt of yours!” the producer exclaimed. “Let them fly in the wind.”

“Shite, Sean, you cast such a beauty, and my farmers’ manners cannot deal with that,” Roman responded, reddening Freya once more. In contrast to his words, he carefully removed Freya’s hairs from her face and lifted her to free her other hair. He smiled, putting Freya off even more.

“Now walk a few steps,” Sean responded, and Freya got her cue to struggle slowly to wiggle her body free. Her arms folded behind her back could not move, and her legs that were glued lacked the power to win the fight alone. When she gazed back, she matched eyes with Finley, Sean, and the cameramen. Four fit, long men in their early thirties. Finley, like Roman, wore a simple brown plump long-sleeved shirt, dark green pants, and knee-high leather boots like an adventurous 18th-century peasant. Those behind the camera wore casual camouflage survival gear. “Awesome, now put her down and have some breakfast.”

Roman helped Freya sit on the cold stone with her back leaning against an old pine tree. The morning sun could not warm her. “Now William and Isaac began to pity Etha and doubt their plan. They remove her gag to speak to her and share their last remaining food and water, hoping to win their victim over. We follow their example.” He turned Freya’s head and untied the cloth that had been there for over three hours. He lay it on her lap as she moved her tongue and tried to refresh her dry mouth. “Water?”

Freya nodded and accepted the flask in her mouth. The water was nice but had not been necessary. “Thank you very much,” she thanked politely, and Roman took it back, taking the last drops himself.

The crew sat down next to them and unpacked their backpacks. Sean, the producer, gave both the cameramen each a sugary drink, energy bar, and an apple. Finley only had two apples, five pieces of buttered bread, and a few ounces of white cheese. That was all.

Finley showed the camera the food left and helped Freya to eat one piece of bread. His hands were not clean, and Freya had preferred Roman to do it. It tasted okay, and the rest of the food went to the men. They were both at least twice her weight and had burned many more calories while walking, running, and taking Freya along.

“Freya, you still okay? The ropes don’t hurt?” Sean asked after finishing breakfast. “If you need a break or adjustment, ask. It’s TV. We aren’t assholes.”

“Oh, that’s your name,” Finley gaped. “Freya, nice name. A Norse goddess, isn’t she?”

Freya murmured to confirm that.

“Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. Come on. We’re stuck here together, and you’re part of the group now.”

Roman put his arm around Freya’s shoulder. “Or are we too intimidating?”

Freya blushed once more, and now there was no darkness to cover in. All had spotted it.

“Why are you always the ladies’ man?” Finley joked, making Freya even more uncomfortable.

“Cut that damn hair,” one cameraman joked. “Or at least visit a barber. Now no one sees the John Rambo is underneath. Also, Freya, excuse me that I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Matt. Nice meeting you.”

“Henry,” the other cameraman said. “You sure there’s nothing we can do for you?”

“Nah, I am fine.”

“Those ropes don’t bother you, do they?”

“They do, but I have been tied tighter and for longer. The casting consisted of being tied to a chair for 8 hours. That really isn’t the problem.”

“So there’s a problem, isn't there?” Sean said. “Tell us.”

Freya smirked and looked away. “No, really, there isn’t really anything.”

“There is. We won’t leave until you make your demand.”

Freya gawked at him, unsure what to do. She was hired to be tied here, not to make charges and play the pretty princess. Her previous boss at the local pizza place had ingrained that philosophy. “Eh, not sure if I can ask, but do you have socks or so? I’m getting a little cold. I can go through, no problem, but you know, I haven’t in the last few hours, and this dress is a little then. So, eh,…”

“It’s alright,” Sean interrupted. “Ask that in a moment on camera, okay? As a challenge, we tasked ourselves to do 25 miles in this terrain a day. Then the scenario is a bit more realistic as William and Isaac were in a hurry. Sounds like little, but the terrain will get harder, and I got some fun obstacles planned for the boys.”

Freya accepted the offer, happy mostly that the conversation was over. She did not have the guts to stare Roman in the face. Soon the five men and bound damsel rose to continue their journey. Freya once more told she was cold with Henry and Matt filming her. Coincidentally, Finley carried a spare blanket in his backpack and wrapped it around Freya. The thick wool instantly warmed Freya as Finley picked her up to continue the journey.

“Wait,” Roman said as he cut off a straw of nearby tall grass. He pulled Freya’s hair backward and tied the stern around it to make a ponytail. Freya returned a smile as he led Finley down the rocks and into the valley. The trees got denser, and many fallen ones caused them to be careful. They were large, sometimes several feet in diameter, and it often took both Finley and Roman to carry Freya across. They crossed a few minor streams and mud pools before the first hurdle announced itself. A slow river around 50 feet across barred their path. No bridge, no shallow parts, and nothing upstream or downstream. Somehow, it had to be crossed, and only Sean seemed to look forward to that.
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Post by Tieup1 »

A good chapter, plenty of detail, and good to hear from some of the different characters, in the story. :)
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Post by Beaumains »

Tieup1 wrote: 3 years ago A good chapter, plenty of detail, and good to hear from some of the different characters, in the story. :)
Thanks a lot! Sorry for the wait but here is the latest chapter.
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Freya shivered on the river bank covered by a thin layer of pebbles and thick mud underneath. Henry dried himself on the other side with a modern towel before unpacking the camera equipment and dry clothes from his waterproof bag. Such luxury was unavailable to Freya.

“What are we gonna do with our missy?” Finley asked. He still carried Freya and did not bother to put her down. She was a light-weight.

“The river is slow, so Sean could be our lifeguard. It should be possible, but it’s up to Freya. She takes the risk,” Roman replied. He pulled off his boots, revealing a tanned, muscular body able to crack her neck in seconds.

“Eh, I’m your prisoner. You should decide, I guess.”

Finley laughed, laying Freya on the pebbles. “Yeah, but we’re responsible for you. Your call.”

“Okay, then. Let’s give it a shot,” Freya replied as the four men smiled.

“Cool,” Sean said, towering over Freya. “No cheating. I like that. Keep it up, and this will be an amazing episode. Do you want to keep the dress on? I assume you don’t want to be on TV in your underwear.”

Freya nodded, glad her preference was already implied. Finley shredded his boots and shirt and crammed them in the old leather backpack, hoping it was waterproof. He sat down next to Freya and freed her arms. She stretched and waited on Sean and Matt to pack their belongings and clothes and prepare the action cams. Roman helped Freya up and put his arm around her while walking her into the water. Her toes touched the cold substance first and retracted, but Roman bumped her further until her feet slipped away on the gravel.

“Come on, get in. It’s just water,” Roman laughed while keeping a firm grip on her. He pulled her further until her knees were fully submerged. The water tensioned the ropes around her ankles, and the white cloth of her nightdress clenched against her skin. Then he pushed Freya.

“Hey! Stop that,” Freya responded as she almost fell, causing another shove from a chuckling Roman. With bound legs, she tumbled forward face first in the water. “Shit, man, let it!” she sputtered.

Roman dived in and grabbed Freya, pulling her underwater for a few seconds. “It’s TV, no swearing, and you had to get in whatsoever. Now swim.” He let his damsel float away, and Freya front crawled forward. The men followed to her sides through the muddy, slow water that colored her dress a few shades darker. Her legs did not move to hide her energy and swimming history.

“You fine?” Matt asked, filming Freya’s worn-out face with his GoPro camera.

“Yeah, no problems. It’s weird swimming with tied legs and wearing a dress. It’s so hard.”

“Almost there. You’re half-way,” Finley said without turning his head. He had not caught Freya’s lie, and at that moment, she dived down in the brown darkness. She made three breaststrokes until she was twelve feet deep. There she grabbed her ankles and undid the hitch with one hand, the two cinches with the other, and within a matter of seconds, her ankles were free too. The ropes were only five feet long, so the men could not have made many windings. Her upper legs loosened even faster as the dress allowed no cinches. With half her air left, Freya swam upstream, expecting it would be the least likely direction for her to go. She grazed an ankle and made a few more strokes before resurfacing twenty feet from the group. Freya took another deep breath, dived down again, and this time aimed at the closest shore: the one where Henry awaited. Without meeting anyone in the darkness, she came up, crawled on the dirty beach, and ran into the tall grass to the tree line.

“Stop!” Finley shouted, closer than she had anticipated, but the footsteps behind her were Henry’s. Freya leaped over a fallen tree and climbed up the hill covered in a thick layer of slippery leaves. On her bare feet, the stones, acorns, and sticks stung, but she bit the bullet, unsure how far her pursuers lacked behind. Small bushes pulled her dress apart, but it did not worry her the slightest. As her stamina ran out on the steep, slippery slopes, she spun around, hoping to only face Henry. Instead, she plunged into Roman’s arms.

“Gotcha,” Roman shouted, tackling Freya on the ground. She shrieked. She tried to pull away, but Roman was too heavy and strong to fight. “Surrender, please. No more tricks. We will punish you for this.”

“Okay, okay,” Freya panted as she was flipped onto her belly. Roman led her wrists behind her back and bound them palm-to-palm. The dry rope came from the backpack, and Freya hoped the two others were gone in the river. Roman also fastened her elbows together, which hurt Freya a little. Then he pressed the damp cotton was once more into Freya’s mouth and secured it with the white cotton strip. “That was bad of you, Freya,” Roman huffed. Catching Freya had not been easy. “We cannot let you escape, so to give you an incentive, you stay gagged today. Actually, I will blindfold you as well. One moment.”

Roman tied more cotton around Freya’s head, rendering her eyes useless. Freya did not fight back anymore, mostly disappointed due to her failure. The long, soaked dress had been full of mud and leaves, and she was thirsty and tired, having been so close to success. However, she had failed and had come nothing closer to the scholarship.

“Come on, let’s return to the shore. We catch some fish and make a fire to warm,” Finley said, picking up Freya by her shoulders.
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Post by Tieup1 »

Another very interesting chapter, tough luck for Freya, she almost got away. I think the men will watch her more closely now, so it will be harder for her try something else.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Tieup1 wrote: 3 years ago Another very interesting chapter, tough luck for Freya, she almost got away. I think the men will watch her more closely now, so it will be harder for her try something else.
Resssourceful Freya is :) But escape will be much harder now. Very good chapter!
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Post by Mineira1986 »

Nice story! I love the concept. Wonder if Freya will be able to escape... but I don't think the odds are in her favor, hehe.
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Post by Beaumains »

Sorry for the delay. Here is the next chapter.
Tieup1 wrote: 3 years ago Another very interesting chapter, tough luck for Freya, she almost got away. I think the men will watch her more closely now, so it will be harder for her try something else.
Almost! Maybe she has more luck next time.
Caesar73 wrote: 3 years ago Resssourceful Freya is :) But escape will be much harder now. Very good chapter!
Thanks a lot!
Mineira1986 wrote: 3 years ago Nice story! I love the concept. Wonder if Freya will be able to escape... but I don't think the odds are in her favor, hehe.
They are certainly not. But who would not root for an underdog?
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“Freya, lunch is almost ready,” Finley stated. “I will move you over.”

“Ookappphf,” Freya blurted into her gag. The blanket wrapped around her upper body and upper knees as she lay in the sun on a stone plateau. Her knees bent at a 90-degree angle as a white strap that ran to her wrists held her crossing ankles together. The men had chosen a boxtie for her arms again, so she could not loosen her hogtie. The blanket was wrapped between the tie and Freya to keep her warm and shield her body from the camera while showing the knots. She could not be more thankful they allowed her to hide her underwear. Being on TV in them would be embarrassing.

“Your dress should be dry by now, so let’s change you first. It isn’t snow white anymore, and the cuts won’t repair themselves, but that’s on you.”

Freya nodded, and the long-haired giant picked her up after loosening the rope connecting her wrists and ankles. Freya disliked being carried and blindfolded but trusted Finley. Next to the crackling fire, he sat her down, untied her arms, and helped her into the white nightdress she had been wearing all day. He did bound her hands again.

“Tea?” Roman asked from the other side of the fire. Freya reddened again, now realizing all men had watched her change. “Sorry, Freya. My bad. We were not staring. I promise.”

Freya nodded as Finley took the gag off her mouth. A warm mug was pressed into her hands and filled the air with a herbal scent.

“Dandelion and birch,” Roman explained, and Freya carefully sipped. Not only was the herbal tea overwhelming, but she feared overrunning her mouth with boiling hot water due to her blindfold.

“It’s good,” Freya uttered as the men gazed her down during a long silence. Taking her time, Freya emptied her mug and accepted a small plate into her hands. It carried roasted chestnuts, berries, and a piece of trout. It was an odd combination of flavors, but Freya did not mind. Not that she was hungry, but the taste of the forest seldom disappointed her. Its wild, untamed flavor could not be found in supermarkets or school lunches. Each bite was distinct.

“I hope you enjoyed ‘cause you get the same tonight,” Finley said, binding Freya’s arms again. “One quick break, then we’re off.”

“And how about her? Perhaps she gotta go as well?” Matt taunted.

Freya nodded, and Finley stopped tying the knot. “Eh, how should we, eh? I mean privacy, and…”

“No, untie her, please,” Sean burst out laughing. “You want to die on that hill?”

Finley adhered, removing the half-finished knot around Freya’s arms and the one circling her crossed ankles. Then he lifted her blindfold, blinding his prisoner. After her eyes had adjusted, Freya scanned the small meadow that was cut in half by a fallen spruce tree. A downy woodpecker flew up from his tree as Roman extinguished the fire with a layer of dirt. Henry collected the garbage and packed his bag, ready to go. Sean handed Freya a roll of historically inaccurate toilet paper and let her hide her deed behind a pile of rocks and tall grass. For a moment, it crossed her mind she could run, but that would not be a true escape. Obediently, she returned and blindfolded herself. Finley linked her arms in front of her with the dried ropes and forced her legs together. Then Roman took her into his arms, and the group continued their hike through the rugged terrain.

“I can reach these knots with my mouth, ya know,” Freya challenged Roman as the others had left their earshot.

“You reckon so? You wouldn’t dare. If you try that, you’ll be gagged. I’ll bound your ankles to your upper legs and your wrists to your upper arms until you are begging me to release you from the strain. Perhaps that would be a good way for you to spend the night.”

“That’s not very kind.”

“If the blindfold doesn’t discourage your foolish escape attempts, I don’t mind taking more severe measures. I know a few tricks,” Roman said. He waited a few seconds and pinched Freya’s side. She shrieked and struggled to escape his arms, hitting his arm away.

“Hey, Roman! Stop that,” Sean yelled behind them. “I wanna avoid any harassment complaints.”

Freya laughed as Roman lifted her up, supporting her back with one muscular arm and the other under her knees. “No worries, it’s fine.”

“Thanks, that was stupid, sorry.”

“No, really, it’s okay.”

“Thanks again. You’re doing so amazing that I got carried away a little. You remind me of my little sister. Always eager to be tied and messed with but still standing her ground.”

“So, therefore, you learned bondage: Tying up your sister. That’s cute. Where’s she now?”

“Somewhere high in the Rockies with the perfect husband. However, that does not matter now. What I wanted to say is you’re exceptional. Sean had his doubts with his episode, having a girl tied for so long, but you removed that entirely.”

“Glad to hear that. I was unsure whether I had not ruined anything in that river.”

“No, no, not at all. That was great! You surprised all of us while giving great shots. It was also perfect for the narrative. Etha, the girl you’re playing, also tried to escape early and was also captured and punished with more restraints. So it works out.”

Freya grinned and let her head rest against Roman’s chest. It had not been the first time she had been tied for so long. For years, her older sister had tied her to her bed at night, and her scout troop had pranked each other with long and dangerous ties. Her last boyfriend had hung her upside down on top of a 50-feet flagpole and only released her when she agreed to go out to the fancy pizza place with him.

As the afternoon progressed, the picturesque trees, grasses, and boulders of the Northern Appalachians passed by Freya’s eyes behind her blindfold. The men continued on a high, steady pace, going up and down the valley to meet their required daily distance. They sweated and only halted to film bits about the local landscape, survival tricks, or the history of this weird reenacted story. When they panned in onto Freya, the shot moved to the sun to prove that these shots were made all day, so she had to be tied continuously.

Roman let his captive not escape his sight, let alone his arms, so Freya had to wait patiently on his next little mistake. Then, if the stars aligned, she could free herself and run far away. The scholarship would then be hers.
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Post by Tieup1 »

A very good chapter, despite being outnumbered by these big men, I think Freya is playing a good part. She is strong mentally, and no doubt, is working on a plan to escape. :)
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Post by slackywacky »

Let's see how Freya can escape next... IF that is.

Good chapter, good story.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Caesar73 »

slackywacky wrote: 3 years ago Let's see how Freya can escape next... IF that is.

Good chapter, good story.
Absolutely :)
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Post by Beaumains »

Thanks for the comments! It is always good to know these more outlandish tie-up stories are still being appreciated.
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Roman and Finley carried Freya all afternoon through the black forest with black branches and black leaves. Whoever did not have damsel-transport-duty provided survival advice to the camera. Now she knew which black mushrooms were edible, how to keep facing north, and how to make the dark water drinkable. Freya detested the blindfold. She craved to be taught by the men and learn more ways to feed herself in the middle of a deserted autumn forest. But, no, she had to be in ropes and blinded and almost began to regret her failed escape attempt. She was carried around like a doll wrapped in a blanket and was nothing more than an eccentric prop.

“You still going strong?” Sean inquired every half an hour, receiving a smile and a reassurance followed by a yawn. Having nothing to do made Freya weary. Being kidnapped was dull. Freya’s legs floated in the air, and her hands rested in her lap while her hair dangled in the air. The ropes of natural fibers did not hurt or strain as they were thick and soft even though they were. So boredom was her only problem. She had tried talking with Roman, but he constantly halted to film or climb over a tree.

“Sean, can I get some water?” Freya urged around four, although she had no clue what time it was.

“Sean’s not here,” Henry responded with a laugh. “You gotta ask someone else, though, as he won’t share any food with you.”

Freya sighed disappointedly. It was foolish to forget about being in a simulated survival situation. “Eh, Finley, may I have some water, please?”

“Have you been nice?”

Freya wanted to punch him. “Have you?”

Finley chuckled again. “Does that matter?” To Freya, he had always appeared to be more withdrawn and reserved compared to Roman. Also, he had been less talkative towards her. Now he began taunting her as well, grabbing Roman’s attention.

“You kidnapped me to ask whether I’m the one being nice? What answer do you expect? If you’d be as nice as I am now, you’d release me instantly.”

“Lass being difficult again?” Roman questioned.

“Yeah, complaining and being a smart ass. There were other ways to keep a girl quiet in the 18th century that don’t belong in a family-friendly show.”

Finley grabbed Freya tight, and Roman grabbed her wrists and dipped the fingers in her sides.

“Stop! Stop! Sean, help me!” Freya screamed, even though Roman had not even started tickling yet.

“Give her the water, guys. No need to break her down at day one,” Sean responded irritatedly and berated Roman again. Roman obliged, handing Freya a cup she gulped away.

“Thanks, that was nice,” Freya spoke as casually as possible. Roman seized the cup, got Freya out of Finley’s arms, and the pack moved on without exchanging any other words. The misery of routine ensued as the excitement of her maneuver faded. The only distraction they had to cross a large road where once every minute a car passed.

“The disadvantage of modern-day survival,” Finley complained. “You can’t even get lost anymore. Too many people.” They hid in the ferns near the road to avoid a scene and crossed when traffic was absent for a while, which a large, slow truck later explained.

Then the endless mixture of grasses, dense forest, lesser streams, and steep mountains continued. Freya enjoyed the sounds of Finley and Roman as they navigated through the arduous terrain while bearing her. Meanwhile, she began strategizing her next move: How to escape?

First, pretending to be cold, Freya slid her hands into the blanket cocoon. It was partly true, and she pitied the sweating, panting lads carrying her but had no other option. Her job was to escape. Unable to work on the ropes around her wrists, she bent forward, grabbing the rope around her upper legs. It was short, thick, and its knot was on the other side of her legs. To not arouse suspicion, she had to work slow and steady and turn the rope around her leg to bring the knot into her hands. As Roman would feel the rope move, Freya first pushed some more blanket between her and her handsome captor.

Then, as Finley complained about a long, steep hill ridge ahead with soft earth and a thick layer of fallen leaves, Freya seized her opportunity. With adrenaline rushing through her veins and an increased hard beat, she slowly pulled the rope. At first, in the wrong way, letting the knot pass at Roman’s side, but quickly corrected herself. Roman did not notice anything. Her dress twisted along with the ropes and decreased the friction, so she did not have to rely on sudden yanks. The knot itself was a piece of cake, a double overhand noose tightened around the hitch that secured the rope and loosened instantly.

Freya’s scheme continued by dragging the strands around her legs one by one. She acted bored by yawning and sighing as Roman continued at a slow, steady pace like an ox pulling a plow through a field.

“Freya, this is nothing compared to the Himalayans, I can assure you. Only, I was not carrying an extra 110 pounds,” Roman gasped as Freya was practically finished. “Fin, grab her for a moment, will you?”

In an instant, Freya collected the loose rope, afraid it would fall out of the blanket and would expose her doings. To cover up her plan even better, she tried to make a witty remark but had little inspiration. “If you let me go, the journey would be a lot easier for you. Then we both win.”

Roman grinned as he climbed upward to Finley, who was a dozen feet ahead. He accepted Freya in his arms and gave Roman the backpack. “Luckily, she’s a lightweight, and we are almost there.”

Henry laughed, also panting from getting the camera and his own big backpack up the hill. “Always the optimist, Fin. Hills and mountains have never betrayed us before.”

Freya sighed inaudibly. During the exchange, she had bundled all rope together in her hands, intending to fling it away, but now Roman walked behind them. The plan was risky already, and now he would surely see it. So she focused on Roman, mapping in her head when he would overtake them. Afterward, she lowered the rope, grabbed the loose end between her toes, and flung it away. A soft pop indicated it had flown a few feet to the side in a pile of leaves.

The next few seconds felt like an eternity to Freya. Had Finley noticed something? She kept quiet before conjuring a smile on her face. The rope was biodegradable, so no extra garbage would be left in the pristine forest. Having trouble concealing her smile, she buried her face into Finley’s chest. Part one of her plan had been a success: Finley and Roman had only been given four short ropes, and one less could make the difference later in the journey. Freya had not won the war, but at least a battle.

Ten minutes later, the men reached ridgeline’s summit and decided to halt for the day. Finley lay Freya on bare stone and stated he would search for firewood while Roman had to babysit.

“Freya, you did well this afternoon, so I will remove your blindfold,” Roman said, blinding Freya with the incoming light. “Well, apart from that little stunt in the river, I could not have hoped for a better captive. Even if you don’t escape, the network will offer you a generous bonus if you continue like this.”

Freya stared in the vivid green eyes. A smile formed on her face. The naivety of Roman was not only pitiful but also too comical for her to shrug off.

“Anything wrong?” Roman asked. “What has our little troublemaker been up to?”

Freya pulled the blanket away, revealing her dirty, torn dress. “I lost something.”

Roman watched her. “You? You what? Under our nose?”

“Again,” Freya added.

Roman turned his head to Sean, who was observing them. “Mind if I teach our weasel a lesson tonight? We need to establish who is in charge here.”

Freya grinned. She was ready.
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Post by slackywacky »

I wonder if Freya is really ready for what Roman is going to do. But I hope we'll find out in the next chapter. ;)
Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Freya is very, very determined :)
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Post by Tieup1 »

Very good chapter, despite being outnumbered, Freya is being strong, and giving these brutes, a run for their money. They may have the brawn, but she has the brains. :)
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Post by Beaumains »

slackywacky wrote: 3 years ago I wonder if Freya is really ready for what Roman is going to do. But I hope we'll find out in the next chapter. ;)
The question is rather whether Roman is ready for such a bad mouth. Thanks for your comment!
Caesar73 wrote: 3 years ago Freya is very, very determined :)
She surely is. Or is it maybe a little too much? Thanks for your comment.
Tieup1 wrote: 3 years ago Very good chapter, despite being outnumbered, Freya is being strong, and giving these brutes, a run for their money. They may have the brawn, but she has the brains. :)
Thanks a lot! I think brutes is a little too harsh on them. Big friendly giants would be a better name.

----------------------------------------------------

“No, man, better not to stretch it. If it goes wrong, your career will be over,” Sean uttered to Roman. “C’mon, think straight. Be professional.”

Freya could taste the tension in the air. Her elbows and hands were still together in front of her and her ankles bound together. Roman simply nodded and sat down on a small rock. “Freya, maybe it’s better not to bind you any further.”

“And then?” Freya reacted, grabbing her bound ankles. It cost her two movements to undo the knot and three more to shred the short rope on the ground. “Then what?” she taunted while leaping onto her feet and running off. To her surprise, she got ten steps in before Roman grabbed her arm. Freya spun around, bumping into him. “You see, if you don’t punish me for escaping, then I keep trying. If you fancied making a realistic episode, then make it genuine. I got my safeword.”

“We know, Freya, but we already had a hard time pitching this episode to the network. So…”

“Then you don’t show these ties or only mention them. You got three ropes, so how harmful could that be? Or do you need me to film anything?”

“Eh, no, we are done for today,” Sean answered.

“Then tie me up. You always say you do these crazy scenarios for real and don’t fake anything. I signed up for that. Or was it all a lie? Aren’t you any better than the average reality show?”

Freya marked Sean and Roman exchange gazes until the producer finally nodded. “Kneel, prisoner,” Roman ordered. Freya got a smile on her face, hearing these words out of Roman’s mouth, and obliged. He untied her arms and reforged them together behind her back, palm to palm, with a piece of cloth that used to be the blindfold. The first short rope cinched it, tightening it so Freya could not wiggle out anymore. He grabbed her abdomen and lifted her, carrying her to a large white pine. Here, Roman helped Freya on her feet and her hands to a branch behind her. It was only a loose strappado that did not hinder Freya, but she was stuck, and her back bent a little. However, the discomfort could not be compared to the torture method, whose name they shared.

“Already changed your thoughts? Too bad. I’ll speak to you in an hour,” Roman laughed, sitting down next to the bags. With his knife, he shaved tinder from the first branches Finley had returned.

“Nah, I can hold this for some time. It is actually quite nice to stand instead of being carried. So, thank you.”

Roman smirked. “When did you get so mouthy?”

“When it turned out you were more awkward around me than I was around you.”

Roman sighed and let his knife rest. “You are pleading for a gag, aren’t you?”

Freya awaited the cotton to be pressed in her mouth, but Roman never did so. He stayed where he was and explained to the camera that making a fire in these conditions was easy. The wood was dry, and he had been given a firestick. Next, he climbed into one of the pine trees to cut off the thin, long branches to build a shelter for the night. There was only one blanket, so Freya assumed it would be a cold night. She had slept under the stars before, but always with a sleeping bag corresponding to the season. In this 18th century abduction, there were no spare sleeping bags.

Meanwhile, Roman covered the forest floor with a thick layer of prickly branches as Finley hauled his sixth load of firewood to the camp. He grew the fire, smoked the fish, roasted more chestnuts, and brewed tea for the entire crew.

Freya was being ignored. Her arms strayed, and she was unable to release herself. The men encircled the fire about 20 feet away, drinking tea and eating dinner as they whispered and laughed together. Once every few moments, one gazed at her but did not shout anything. As if they expected her to give up first before they would show pity.

Freya was familiar with such games and guessed she could best this crew. In the past, she had overplayed her hand and been stuck much longer than comfortable. Then, if she was offered release, the terms of surrender would be embarrassing at best. Nevertheless, knowing Sean, she would only be questioned whether she was okay before receiving a warm meal and an apology. Easy.

As the sun dropped below the horizon and the earth and wind cooled down, the first question marks emerged in Freya’s mind. Her feet and hands ached to warm near the fire, and her stomach grumbled as the breeze sent the smells of smoked fish into her nose. The men had walked all day and most of the previous night and were dead-tired. Meanwhile, Freya had idled all day, either comfortably bound or in their arms. So the cameramen set up their tent and bantered about their warm sleeping bags as they left for the night. It had been only nine, but they would rise at dawn.

“Freya, had enough already?” Roman asked out of the blue, minutes later. “Wanna go to bed?”

“That would be kind,” Freya answered. “But that is up to you.”

Finley laughed. “If you insist, we keep you here all night. Please scream if you’re about to die.”

“Or are your feet still warm? By the way, Finley is an excellent cook.”

The two men towered over Freya, who had nowhere to move to. Her back ached from the slight bend that had lasted for two hours. “So, eh, you are releasing me, so we can go to bed?”

“Do you want us to release you? Then you should request that,” Finley said.

Freya sighed. She had lost her game. She stared up as good as the tie allowed, matching with the eyes of her captors. “Could you untie my hands?”

“And the magic word?”

“Please?”

“Good girl,” Roman said with his raw voice, patting Freya on her head. She felt humiliated and blushed as Roman loosened the knots. He had not only won but emphasized his victory by commanding her to kneel such that her bare knees as her dress had been dirty enough already.

“Freya, have you learned anything about your behavior? Will you stop misbehaving and be a proper damsel in distress?”

Freya looked at the men’s boots, hiding a grin forming on her face. “Yes, now I know I am taken seriously. And that if I escape, I do not have to feel guilty for you being overly careful. So I cannot do anything but to thank you, sir. ”

A hand brushed again through Freya’s hair while she knelt motionlessly. “She’s getting a bit arrogant. I like that,” Finley said. “As you said, the reincarnation of your sister.”

“Yeah, she is. Stand up, Freya,” Roman said politely, handing her a roll of toilet paper, a flask of water, and a toothbrush. “Please get yourself ready for bed and stretch your muscles, or do you also want to do this for real?”

Freya grabbed the items and turned around into the darkness. Her mischief had cost her her dinner, but that was a sacrifice she was willing to make.
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Post by Tieup1 »

Freya is playing a dangerous game. Her attempts at getting away, have not worked. She needs to really think things out, and come up with a plan. She is being watched more closely now, and her captors are getting used to her cunning ways. ;)
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Post by GreyLord »

I believe that Freya has thought this out and is playing the crew. She has obviously had experience with bondage in the past and is also above average with psychology. It will be fascinating to read how this plays out. Excellent writing.
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Post by Beaumains »

Thanks for the replies! Here is(finally) the next part.

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“Our lass is still asleep, isn’t she?” Sean whispered.

“Yeah, she’s pretty tired,” Finley responded. “She acts strong, but it’s a facade. No one can experience so many new things in a day and not be dead tired.”

“I agree,” Henry said. “Disney last month was the same. The kids loved it but snored as soon as I closed the car door. The entire car park was not the happy magical place you would imagine. All kids almost fainted from exhaustion.”

Roman snickered. “Freya’s the same. She was gone within minutes last night. I doubt she even tried fighting the ropes.”

“Nope, she did not,” Finley confirmed, not knowing Freya had been listening. “It’s adorable that she will be fierce and aggressive today, but it messes with the plot.”

“Then you should be tougher on her,” Sean said.

“Do you allow that?”

“As long as she consents. By the way, shouldn’t you wake her? It’s time to move.”

Freya did not overhear anything else than a grunt of one of the men standing up. Only her hands kept her bound to the uncomfortable, spiky pine needles. Two white sheets shielded her skin, but her warm bed at home had better perks. There, her hands were not bound to a thin branch that ran from her forehead to her feet. It was bent under thick roots above her head and below her feet, making it impossible to pull it away even though the young spruce was flexible. Her wrists were parallel and pointing in opposite directions. When she had noted her fingers could not reach the ends of the ropes, she had given up and fallen asleep. Lying on her back, blindfolded, and with her hands fixed on her chest had been uncomfortable. Her feet especially had been cold with no warm pair of socks laying in a nearby drawer she could grab.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Finley shouted, removing the branches that lay on top of her.

Freya yawned deeply to hide her grin. “Morning.”

“Had a good night?”

“As good, cold, and miserable a prisoner in the wilderness could be.”

“Still being sassy?”

“Yeah,” Freya yawned. “Or do you prefer me begging for mercy?”

Roman sat down next to Freya and untied her cold, white hands. “You did so last night if I recall correctly. Nah, I prefer you like this. Now your pleas for mercy will be another accomplishment in their own right.”

The rope had not been very tight, but Freya felt the blood rushing back in as she stretched her arms and warmed her fingers against each other. She rolled out under the branch and stood up, trying to hide her blush. She tore off the blindfold to see the entire production crew observing the scene.

“Freya, where ya going?” Finley shouted behind her.

Freya turned around, having made only five steps towards the campfire, and felt her stomach rumble. The lack of dinner last night marked its presence. “Breakfast? Or are you brutes willing to let me starve?”

“Turn around, Freya,” Finley replied without answering her question. “Hands behind your back. Be nice to us, and you will be cared for, okay?”

“Eh, sure.”

“So now you will first apologize for your behavior.”

Freya looked Roman in the eyes and reddened again. “Sorry,” she stumbled, having trouble making eye contact with Roman as Finley fastened her arms behind her.

“Good, now you can sit by the campfire and enjoy your meal,” Finley said, accompanying her and binding her ankles together.

The men had caught a big hare with their snares, but the breakfast consisted of more puffed chestnuts, berries, and wild tea. Freya did not complain as still the menu was still bug-free, and the nuts filled her empty belly rapidly. After the men released her for a sanitary stop, they bound her back behind her, palm-to-palm, but Finley kept the third rope in his bag.

“Time to go. You’re walking yourself today,” Roman declared, showing a fifteen-foot-long twine whose leaves were all removed. At one end, it was one inch thick and made of brown wood, while the other end still was dark green. Roman fastened the thin end to her cuffs and commanded her to follow Finley down the slope. The journey continued.

The men tried to break Freya, and she understood this game too. Last night, she played and lost, and today the odds were not in her favor either. She traversed the autumn lands barefoot, feeling the rocks, twigs, and puddles on the way. The dress she wore was torn and filthy already, but the ankle-long fabric kept getting stuck. Then add the ruthless pace of the men who whistled tunes of decades ago joyfully and the inability to balance herself with her arms to that equation. Then the outcome was that Freya could do nothing else than suffer.

“Come on, Freya, keep it up, or should we drag you along?” Roman provoked.

“Nah, we should gag her if she lags behind again. Then she has some incentive not to be a lazy rat ever again,” Finley added. “This ain’t the scouts anymore.”

“Scouts,” Freya mumbled to herself. They had kidnapped her and dropped her off in the woods with her wrists and neck locked into stocks. They had let her sleep in a kitchen cupboard on a pile of potatoes. They had taken her on a road trip without the keys of her locked handcuffs. They had dared her to request to be tied up by a cute boy of another troupe to whom none of them had ever spoken. Embarrassment and the inner urge to quit, run far away, and cry was nothing new to Freya. However, persisting had always been the correct decision. Not only the memories she would share with the others involved and validating her inner determination would prove to be better companions. The earned right to request the same suffering from those underestimating her gave her respect and power. A victory against these men would be unforgettable, but it would be an uphill battle.

Freya ignored the comments and picked up her pace. She made her way through the wetter valley grounds. The dew had soaked her dress from the outside while her sweat did so from the inside. The bottom had become one brown muddy ring she dragged along. Finley’s strides were twice as long as hers, and the boots had a grip on the mossy rocks and trunks while her feet did not.

“Stop slacking off, or should we gag you?” Roman calmly asked as if he was the cool uncle at a family barbeque.

“Why should I be gagged?” Freya replied, suppressing her panting and running forward. Roman behind her pulled the twine back as expected, but she kept her balance. “Maybe you’re the one deserving the turtle-speed gag.”

Freya spun around to show a broad smile as Roman shook his head when disaster struck: She stepped in a puddle of thick mud, sunk away, and lost her balance. She tripped, unable to catch herself with her hands.

“You okay?” Sean asked, rushing forward to grab his damsel.

“Is it bad?” Freya replied, feeling a liquid drip over her cheek.
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Post by GreyLord »

This is really good writing. Please keep it up.
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Post by Caesar73 »

Freya is beautiful character [mention]Beaumains[/mention] . She is strong. Even under this circumstances. When I read this chapter I saw Freya stumbling barefoot through the mud. Seemingly not intimidated by her captors. Such spirit should be rewarded ;)
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