THE LAND FARMERS AND THE SAILOR BOYS (multiple m/m)

[Tsuhaya]

I love these stories about rival groups, I am a competitive nature person . I also like to see how boys are so experienced in using ropes. Another nice chapter, keep up the good work

[Xtc]

At least it keeps them off the streets.

[LK3869]

Here it is: Little Steve and the woodstick gag With a possibly jealous Scotty behind...

Little steve and the woodstick gag.jpg

[Jason Toddman]

Scott is quite evidently a person of my own heart.

[skdj]

Hadn't come across this before, really hope you post the complete story here!

[Xtc]

@[mention]LK3869[/mention], that's avery elaborate version of the gag. I must find use for that in future. Thanks for posting.

[mention]Jason Toddman[/mention], judging form your past stories, I suspect that he is.

[mention]skdj[/mention], thanks, I intend to post the entire saga but I've been off grid for a few days and It will take a while to catch up.

[bondagefreak]

I have yet to read this tale, but [mention]LK3869[/mention]'s artistic tribute has given me added motivation to add this to my "to read" list [mention]Xtc[/mention], I'll be providing you a detailed review as soon as I finish reading the first chapter.

[Xtc]

I suspect you read the original on the old site, [mention]bondagefreak[/mention].

[Xtc]

THE LAND FARMERS AND THE SAILOR BOYS


Delivery

“OK”, telephoned Vic, “We’re about to bring you your hostages”.

“Hang on”, came the reply, “There was another condition. I want to see photos of the hostages “suitably packaged” before you leave. And don’t think you can untie them as soon as the photos have been taken because there aren’t many of you and we could be anywhere in the Forest watching you.”

“Crap”, thought Vic, “He’s right”.

Vic used his mobile phone to photograph both Scott and Steve from the back to show how firmly they were bound. He also photographed them full face to illustrate their gags. “Bastard”, he thought about his big brother as he sent the photos to Sam’s phone, “Steve could have walked Scott to the Log Cabin and they would both have surrendered themselves honourably without having to go through this”. But it all made fuel for future games!

“Fasten them together, please; it makes them easier to handle at this end. Oh, and by the way, don’t forget to bring some rope for their ankles during the final handover. See you.” was Sam’s passing shot to his brother.

Vic got a short rope and made a loop between Scott’s right upper arm and Steve’s left He knotted it off, leaving a gap of about 50 cms between them. This was not the most secure tie but at least he had done what Sam demanded.

It would be getting dark soon and the chances of their being observed were very remote, nevertheless, the Scouts put a plan into action. Walkie-talkies are a great invention over short distances! Zac was to go well ahead of the prisoners, who were to be escorted by Vic, and George was to bring up the rear by some distance. If Zac encountered strangers on the path, he was to radio Vic who would then help the hostages to hide in the trees and undergrowth by the paths until they had passed. The main enemy as far as George was concerned were cyclists who could overtake the coffle. His task was similar to Zac’s but his reactions needed to be quicker. So did those of Vic and the hostages!

With a final change of batteries in the walkie-talkies, the boys took the stolen flag from the wall, folded it none too tidily, and set off. They knew that the 5 km trek with bound prisoners was unlikely to take less than one and a half hours even with cooperative captives. Their intention was to accomplish the mission in an hour. Steve and Scott tacitly agreed.

As it happened, there were no encounters on the way but it wasn’t easy to move quickly especially as the hostages were gagged and able to breathe properly only through their noses. Unable to use their arms for balance, the best gait appeared to be a quick, coordinated walk while Vic stood between them supporting them with his arms. They covered the distance in about 80 minutes, which included two short “recovery time” stops.

Zac got to the gate first followed by Vic and the hostages and finally George. The gate was about 10 metres from the door to the Log Cabin and Sam saw the party arrive. He said there were conditions. Vic smelled a rat.

Sam assured Vic, on his honour, that he was safe from capture and was guaranteed safe passage to and from the site. He reminded the Scouts that only Vic was to be allowed onto the property and demanded that he strip down to his boxer shorts first. Vic then called his brother something very unfillial! “Suit yourself, that’s the condition. Do you want Jamie back or not?” asked Sam. He held all the cards. Vic stripped until he was left in just his somewhat brief, loose, grey boxers.

“That’s better, Little Brother”, said Sam, “I don’t want any tricks. Now let’s get on with this”.

The Exchange

Vic was told to bring Scott and Little Steve half way to the cottage. He did so and Sam told the hostages to kneel down and cross their ankles. He didn’t want his prisoners running off as soon as Jamie was released, so Vic had to tie their ankles. He went behind Scott and tied his ankles as though he was square-lashing pioneering poles. The sea Scouts made sure that his knotting was tightened off properly at the end. They were quite impressed by Vic’s tying. “Not bad for a Land Farmer”, etc. This left Scott looking very vulnerable, kneeling, dressed in just his briefs with his knees spread wide apart.

Steve suffered the same fate and by now Vic was so irate about having been forced to strip off that he wasn’t as gentle as he had intended to be with the little swimmer.

“That’s nice; two very acceptable packages”, announced Sam. “Take their shoes off then you’d better come in.”

“Sorry, guys”, said Vic as he removed Scott’s boots and Steve’s shoes and headed for the Log Cabin.

“Mm-mm”, and, “Mf-ff”, they replied trying to reassure him that it was alright.

As Vic entered the Cabin, Action Man emerged smiling with a roll of black gaffer tape and heading for the hostages. Upon entering the Log Cabin, which by now was illuminated by two Tilley lamps and the flickering of a log fire, Vic noticed Jamie sitting on the floor almost completely immobilised. He handed the stolen flag to Sam who nodded cursorily and then tipped his head towards Jamie indicating that he could free his friend.

“Goo-ee”, said Jamie as he saw Vic, who reassured him that it wouldn’t be long now ‘til he was free. He took a careful look to see what would be the best way of alleviating his plight. The obvious thing to do would be to remove the stump that was forcing Jamie into a closely confined ball. He pulled the stump free resulting in a prolonged “Nnghah” of relief from Jamie. There was an explosion of unravelling boy as Jamie was able to move once more. He quickly tore the gag from his mouth leaving the soggy section of sock containing the rubber ball hanging against his chest. Vic untied his hands and removed the rope that was tethering his neck. Jamie was now completely unfettered.

He climbed unsteadily to his feet, asked for water, which he was given, untied the football sock and started to dress.

Sam clarified the rules and Jamie agreed that, as they had been exchanged for him, it would not be honourable to try to recue the hostages immediately upon his release. Anyhow, his team was outnumbered and he was needed at the Cottage.

As Vic and Jamie left the Log Cabin, having collected Jamie’s rucksack, they noticed that Action Man was on guard and that the hostages had several layers of gaffer tape wrapped round their heads blindfolding them effectively. The rope between their arms was no longer in place leaving the two boys separated. So much for Steve’s hopes of avoiding being taped. He was not looking forward to having his blindfold removed.

Jamie assured the prisoners that the Twins were due to arrive at the Cottage early on Monday morning and that he wouldn’t tell them about the fate that was in store for them in case they changed their minds. He would deliver Big Steve and Little Joe as early as possible and that the hostages were not to worry: revenge would be theirs! The two boys left the property shutting the gate behind them and Vic quickly dressed stopping only to shout threats of future retribution to the Sailor Boys and remarks about how much he loved his big brother.

The four Scouts started heading back to the Cottage.

[Xtc]

OK. Need some feedback: would shorter (up to 1500 words), medium (up to 3000 words), or longer (up to 6000 words) be people's preference for future posts on this topic?

Or, there again, if nobody can give a 6X, perhaps I'll drop the topic.

Here's the next, rather shorter chapter.

[Xtc]

THE LAND FARMERS AND THE SAILOR BOYS


Receiving the Guests

Shortly after Jamie and his escort had departed, Evan took a Tilley lamp out, lit it, and placed it by the hostages. That meant that Action Man could come into the warm and the Sea Scouts could keep an eye on them from the comfort of the Log Cabin. Not that Steve and Scott could see, having been totally blindfolded by Action Man before he went inside.

The two hostages had been left barefoot and bare-chested, kneeling, ankles crossed and knees apart, forearms more or less mummified behind their backs, gagged and blindfolded on the rough grassland facing the Log Cabin. It was beginning to get cold now and the boys wondered whether the Sea Scouts were going to leave them outside overnight.

Although Scott had been more comfortably muzzled with gaffer tape, it must be said that Zac had pulled it tightly against his teeth. Steve, though, was really feeling the need of having the gag, that was forcing his jaws apart and digging into the edge of his mouth, removed. Both boys had been bound and gagged for over two hours

Eventually Action Man came out again and, going up to Steve without saying anything to him, pushed him forward onto his stomach, resulting in a surprised, “Nnngh”, and released his ankles which had thus been forced into the air. Steve felt something cold, hard and flexible slipped over his neck. He gave an “Ungh” of surprise which caused Scott to turn towards him and try to see what was going on but to no avail. Steve guessed correctly that it was a choke chain. He had experienced that before! Still without saying a word to him, Action Man eased Steve quite gently to his knees. Steve was thus forewarned. After a few seconds he was yanked unceremoniously to his feet. Steve staggered a bit, having been left in the kneeling position for so long and he was given time to steady himself before being led off.

As he was lead away, Steve could feel the ground change beneath his bare feet: the coarse, close-cropped Forest sward gave way to gravel and, after nearly tripping over what was obviously the Log Cabin’s front step, he felt first flagstones and then floor boards underfoot. He felt a sensation of warmth hit his bare body as he was led onto a thin mat. Action Man then pushed his knees into the back of Steve’s knees, forcing him to the ground. He then hobbled him with rope leaving him about 30 cm of separation between his ankles. Steve didn’t know it but he was now kneeling on a mat in front of an open fire.

The sensation of warmth was very welcome.

“Come on, Lads, give him a break.” The words came from T-Boy who was bullied in his previous school, and, although he enjoyed the tying up games, he knew when a game had gone too far. He suggested that, if Steve promised that he wouldn’t speak without permission, his rather severe gag should be removed. Steve gratefully nodded his assent and T-Boy removed his gag. Steve was almost tearful with relief and gratitude as he waggled his aching jaw & licked his lips. He only wished he could rub the places where the cords had cut into his cheeks and neck.

True to his word, Steve said nothing. T-Boy gave him water and Steve, having drunk it greedily said, somewhat indistinctly, “Permission to speak?”

Sam granted permission and Steve said that he was desperate for the loo. When Sam asked him, “Standing up or sitting down?” Steve had to admit being desperate for both. “If you give your word of honour that you won’t interfere with your blindfold or remove your hobble, I think we can make arrangements. What do you think?”

“I promise, on my honour, that I will not interfere with my blindfold or hobble.”

Action Man then started to untie Steve’s arms. There was a sound somewhere between a gasp and a grunt as the last knot was untied but Steve stuck to his promise not to speak. He revelled in the new-found freedom but was surprised by the quite painful sensation of the blood returning to his arms and hands. The Sea Scouts gave him a few minutes to massage his newly freed arms before Evan and Action Man grabbed an arm each, back-hammered him and led him out of the door, round to the back of the building and into the outside toilet. His progress was hampered by the ropes connecting his ankles but, after having taken part in a few previous games, he was learning the most efficient ways of moving.

Steve was told that, once he had seated himself over the hole, he would find toilet paper on the wall on his right hand side. He would just have to feel around for it. The door was locked (an outside lock was needed on an outdoor facility containing an Elsan bucket and the necessary chemicals) and the guards said that they would return in five minutes.

When the guards returned and unlocked the door, Steve was taken from the privy, still blindfolded and hobbled. He was then pressed against a wall and his hands were lifted into the small of his back. He could feel the rope being bound vertically around his crossed wrists, tied off and then looped horizontally as his wrists were allowed to drop. “Just for luck” the ropes were then tightened by being passed between his wrists and knotted off. The ends of the rope were drawn up and knotted loosely round Steve’s neck hitching his wrists into the small of his back again.

Steve was then returned to the mat in front of the fire.

Scott had been left on his own in the cold for some time now and was beginning to think that he was going to be left there overnight when Action Man came out to him. It was obvious that Scott was apprehensive about having been forgotten so Action Man spoke to him before starting the well practiced process of receiving a “guest”.

“Don’t worry, you haven’t been forgotten”, Scott heard as he was thrown onto his belly at the start of the process. Scott started to feel “relieved”.

The well rehearsed procedure soon saw Scott on his feet, hobbled and shuffling into the Log Cabin on the end of a choke chain.

Even though Scott had been relatively “comfortable” with his muzzle compared to Steve, he still needed to visit the toilet. He gave his word of honour not to interfere with his blindfold or hobble. His muzzle was removed, with several heartfelt squeals as the tape was tugged from his hair. Water was offered and accepted and a visit to the lavatory engineered.

The Sailor Boys’ Dilemma

This left the Sea Scouts with two prisoners kneeling in front of the fire. This was a problem for the Sailor Boys:
• The Scouts needed feeding and looking after for the weekend.
• They didn’t really want to torture the “volunteer” hostages. They wanted to reserve the real pain for the Twins! (Although they might make exceptions.)
• They would need to mount a careful guard over their hostages at all times to prevent their rescue or escape.

[MaxRoper]

A little empathy is a good thing. It's nice to see the volunteer hostages given some (comparative) comfort.

This one was just about the right length for me. I find myself skimming bits when they're much longer.

[Xtc]

THanks for that, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention]

[Xtc]

OK, time for another instalment.
Don't you lament the lack of traditional values these days?

[Xtc]

THE LAND FARMERS AND THE SAILOR BOYS


Entertaining the Guests

T-Boy was always a bit of an outsider. He spent as little time at “home” as possible. He loved his parents but there were problems. He was shuffled regularly between his mother’s and his father’s flats. At his mother’s flat he always had to sleep on the sofa. He says that he learned to cook out of self-defence. And he was good! He even managed to win prizes for cake-making in the Forest Show, much to the annoyance of the local old ladies who were unimpressed by being bettered by a 14-year old, and even worse: a MALE! He was 183 cm tall, rather baby-faced and without any noticeable muscle definition. But he was strong and possessed great stamina. He was not a man to give up on a task or one to forgive easily!

The Log Cabin had a small galley where T-Boy was in residence. It had a calor gas powered range stove, and Burco boiler, a large Belfast sink set upon a very sturdy metal framework which was fastened firmly to the floor, a reasonable work surface and a lot of useful storage.

The smell of the Chilli that Jacob (that’s the name that T-Boy’s parents gave him) had been preparing for supper was filling the Log Cabin in a tantalising way. The sea Scouts were entertaining themselves by playing cards by the light of the Tilley Lamps whilst waiting for the call to eat. They were deliberately making no mention of their captives who, being blindfolded, didn’t dare make any moves but they were beginning to wonder once more whether they had been forgotten.

At last the call came from the Galley and the Sea Scouts greedily devoured the chilli and steaming rice. All except Den, who believed that salad was poisonous to all true Englishmen, also let the pungent juices run down into a white cabbage salad. It says something for T-Boy’s cuisine that he could even get the lads to eat health-food!

It was now very late at night and the smell of the food was a torment to Scott and Steve made worse by the fact that T-Boy announced that he had put some ice cream in the small gas fridge in the Galley. The Sea Scouts relaxed with their desserts whilst making ostentatious noises of appreciation. Steve was considering whether to ignore the fact that he was on his word of honour not to speak and simply to beg for food. The thought of having “that gag” replaced and still being left hungry deterred him. But it was a close run thing!

The Sea Scouts, of course, had no real intention of letting their hostages starve; they just wanted them to suffer a bit. Evan went across to Scott, put the choke chain on him without saying a word and pulled him forward. Scott took the hint and shuffled on his knees towards the table where T-Boy had laid him a bowl. Evan pulled the chain relatively gently until Scott was kneeling at attention, with his thighs vertical at the end of the enormous refectory table. Scott even found it reassuring to have been paid some sort of attention at last.

Evan took a dessert spoon, scooped up some of the chilli, rice & cabbage and offered it up to Scott’s mouth. As it came under his nose, he opened his mouth and accepted the food. It might no longer have been as hot as it should have been but to Scott it was a life-saver. Evan kept feeding Scott, a little clumsily, until the entire helping had been consumed leaving the nearly naked boy with red juices running down his chin and chest and, not being able to see, wondering if he had finished what was on offer. He was not offered ice cream!

As Evan pulled his chain away from the table, Scott realised that that was all he was going to get. He clumsily turned around still on his knees and followed Evan back to his place in front of the fire. “That beat the last time”, he was thinking. The last time he was made to eat out of a bowl on the floor like a “good little doggy”. He still owed GP for that one.

By now Little Steve could have eaten the proverbial poorly monkey. Being blindfolded, he didn’t really know that Scott had been fed because the Sea Scouts were talking amongst themselves without making reference to it and Evan fed him in total silence. The choke chain went round his neck and Steve in turn was taken to the table, made to kneel upright and fed spoonfuls of the, by now, no longer very warm chilli and rice. He managed to make even more of a mess than Scott and ended up not only with juices running down his chin and chest but food adhered to his nose, his pale torso and his shorts. Nevertheless he ate hungrily and it made an amusing photograph for Sam. Both hostages were given water from a camel pack.

The Sea Scouts were still left with two prisoners to care for. Not to entertain them would be rude, wouldn’t it?

Time to Pay

“Right, now you’ve been fed, it’s time to pay. You two are going to help us out”, Sam was explaining to the unfortunate captives. “One of you is going to express his gratitude to T-Boy by washing up and cleaning the galley. The other one is going to help young Alex demonstrate what he’s learned about how to tie someone up.”

Alex was a red-head with much darker hair than GP. He also tried to spend as much time away from his rather troubled home as possible. His face was freckly and his eyes a bit funny. Although he was one of the younger members of the Troop, he was remarkably muscular. He hadn’t been in the Troop for very long and Action Man made a bet with him. Action Man (known as Tony to his parents) was renowned as the best tier in the troop although GP was the far more devious tormentor of prisoners.

Last week Action Man had hog-tied Alex as part of a demonstration. At the end of the demo Alex asked not to be released but to be allowed to try to escape without help. After two hours he had to beg to be released having only managed to separate his wrists from his ankles but still having his arms firmly in place behind him. Action Man goaded Alex and bet him that he could not tie the next prisoner they took well enough to hold him for more than two hours. In a rash moment Alex took the bet. Then he remembered: there’s always a price for losing.

There are no prizes for guessing which task Scott wanted.

The hostages were told that to decide who was going to be the Galley Slave, they would play “scissors, paper and stone” on Action Man’s call. “One, two, three.” went the call and both boys extended two fingers. “Scissors play scissors. One, two, three. Paper wraps stone.”

“Yes, result!” called Scott in his excitement realising that he was not to be the Galley Slave but forgetting about that word of honour not to speak. “Oh crap, sorry, Guys”, said Scott but too late. GP produced a new rubber ball, the Sea Scouts’ favourite gag, Den forced Scott’s head back and GP stuffed the squidgy ball deep into Scott’s mouth. It was quite an impressive bit of teamwork between GP, Den and Alex who quickly stretched a piece of surgical tape over Scott’s mouth sealing it carefully into the contours of his lips, cheeks and jaw. The whole process can’t have taken more than 20 seconds. The surgical dressing could have been made for the job. It was more sticky than gaffer tape and looked really good when positioned carefully.

The three boys stood back to admire their handiwork while Scott shook his head violently in a futile attempt to shake the tape clear. “Time to test the gag” announced GP. This didn’t sound too good to Scott. There was a short delay while someone seemed to be searching for something. Den grabbed Scott’s shoulders firmly and shortly afterwards Scott felt a sudden, intense pain in both his nipples.

“Yes!”, “Woo-Hoo” and other cries of triumph and derisive laughter rang out as Scott’s scream was effectively muffled. “Gentlemen, our gag works.” announced GP solemnly.

Isn’t it surprising how little of, “Alright, you bastards, now take them off” can be understood through a rubber ball and a layer of surgical tape?

Having been released by Den, Scott wriggled desperately trying to shake the bulldog clips from his chest. He threw himself forward onto the mat frantically trying to rub them off against the floor. T-Boy took pity on him after about 30 seconds, lifted him to his knees and unclipped him. He chose to interpret the “Ng Hnn” from Scott as, “Thank you” - but he might not have been right.

Little Steve could only guess as to the torments his fellow hostage was suffering but he wasn’t too keen to share them and so ensured that he kept still and VERY quiet!

[MisterMistoffelees]

You have to just love your characterizations and the details of your settings. Almost makes me want to do a Camp Evergreen capture-the-flag story (at least if anyone would respond to it).

And speaking of, it's a little dismaying to see that you too have had comments slacking off a bit. You deserve better.

[Xtc]

It is somwhat discouraging but . . .
And, yes, I would go for Camp Evergreen capture thr flag story. Bring back the youngsters!

[Jason07]

I lik how the story is going so far! It sounds like them twins are in sooooooooo much trouble come Monday.

[Xtc]

But Little Joe is such a nice kid. Pity about Big Steve though.

[LK3869]

About chapters size: spliting them in two could work for most but their length's OK so far. Provided they're not posted too fast - can't believe I'm writting that, but there's really A LOT to read around here, even compulsive commenters like me have a hard time keeping up to the pace , my fingers hurt

Good food from your kitchen, literaly and as always. The whole troop(s) comes to life as they first appear, a few words and you feel like you know them.
I wonder if the honour code will suffer some minor cuts or blows along the way...

[Xtc]

Thanks for the comment on the frequency of posts. I sympathise completely! I usually (unless there is a frantic demand - i live in hope!) leave at least aweek between posts to let anyone who is following a story to catch up. Any mor frequent posts ar longer posts tend to pjut perople off.

Thank you for the kitchen metaphor, I'm a keeen cook and have just won the first prize for a vegetarian pasty at the local horticultural and produce show - tasted like shite (no dead animal!) but the veggies love 'em. Would have tasted a damn site better with dripping in the pastry! It's amazing what the addition of English mustard flour does for the flavour - makes 'em almost edible.

Got to go and let down the tyres on the booze judge's car!

[LK3869]

[mention]Xtc[/mention] :
1) you should see what I cook...
2) Doesn't look like something a former scout would do. The dangers of veggie food Eating dead animals must be the cornerstone of society.
Like tying instead of...whatever. ( from kill to food, food to TUGs, TUGs to se...omthing, serious scientists in white blouses say . Really enjoying myself here never talk food to me again )

[Xtc]

Sorry about the delay, I've been off-grid so here's the next chapter.

[Xtc]

THE LAND FARMERS AND THE SAILOR BOYS


The Galley Slave

T-Boy approached his slave, who was still blindfolded and hobbled with his wrists fastened in the small of his back. He even still had the choke chain round his neck.

T-Boy used a small kitchen knife carefully to cut a slit in the layers of gaffer tape at the back of Steve’s head. Putting the knife down T-Boy pushed his fingers down between the tape and Steve’s head several times, loosening it somewhat and causing a lot of flinching and desperately suppressed squeals. He then quickly pulled the cut ends of gaffer tape from the back of Steve’s head and round to the front thus removing it forcibly.

That hurt!

In spite of his word of honour, Steve vocalised!

“That’s alright”, T-Boy reassured him, “You need to be allowed to speak so that you can be very, very polite to your masters”.

He was led, still on his knees, by the choke chain to the table where, now his vision was recovering, Steve could see the Sea Scouts sitting playing cards and drinking Coke. A lot of the things in the Log Cabin had been “re-cycled” from elsewhere. The huge refectory table measured about 1.8 by 3 metres. It was great as a dining table and for laying-out maps. It was even better for stretching out enemies for interrogation.

Little Steve was instructed to go round each of the Sea Scouts in turn and ask, politely, if it was OK to clear his dishes. This was to be no easy feat. He was not allowed to stand up. T-Boy released his arms from the rope, removed the choke chain and instructed him to start. He asked Sam, “Pease, Sir, May I clear your plate now?” Sam graciously assented and Steve reached for the plate, ice cream bowl, fork and spoon and stacked them. By the time he had done this to all present (except Scott), Steve was building quite a pile of crockery and cutlery. He was also building quite a pile of resentment!

T-Boy announced that his slave could stand up for the rest of his task. He must not, however put down his burden. Steve spotted the trap immediately. He was still hobbled and it would be difficult enough to stand even without an armful of dishes and cutlery. He had found out in the past that, if he got into a seated position, crossed his ankles and leaned forwards, he could stand without using his hands except for balance. However, he had never had to change from kneeling to sitting or from sitting to standing without using his hands whilst trying not to drop a somewhat unstable load.

He was beginning to appreciate the “prospect of revenge and retribution” aspect of the games in which he was becoming involved.

He just about managed the transition from kneeling to sitting in spite of its having been made more difficult by a 30 cm hobble between his ankles. Steve was suddenly aware that the Sea Scouts were no longer ignoring him. They were enjoying his distress and making informal bets on whether he would manage to stand without dropping anything thus avoiding further punishment.

The Sea Scouts didn’t really mind if the load was dropped. Plastic and metal both bounce. But watching the Galley Slave suffer did make for good sport.

There was sneaking admiration for what Steve had achieved so far. He went for it. He crossed his legs, tucked them in, offered the pile of utensils forwards to assist balance and, quite slowly, stood up.

There was even a short round of applause from his captors when he succeeded and appreciative calls the like of, “Come on, My Son” and, “Nice one, Shorty”.

T-Boy led his slave to the galley and the rest of the hostage takers turned their attention to Scott.

As Galley Slave, Steve had to start with the washing up. T-Boy replaced the hobble with a length of chain. On one end of the chain a hobble of about the same length was padlocked tightly to each ankle. The other end was fastened to the metal framework supporting the sink. This allowed Steve to reach all areas of the small galley but he could not leave it.

T-Boy then produced another length of chain. This was comparatively light with short links. There were also two small padlocks. They were quite rusty and had obviously been well used. This chain was padlocked tightly around the slave’s wrists leaving him about 60 cms of separation to enable him to perform his tasks.

The galley was on the opposite side of the room from the fire and, if the boiler was not on, it would not have been particularly warm for a boy wearing only his swimming shorts. As it was the flagstones were cold on his bare feet. From where he was he could see what was happening to Scott but didn’t dare to look for too long in case the Sea Scouts decided that he wasn’t working as hard as a slave should.

Steve soon washed the plates, bowls & cutlery using the supply of water from the calor gas boiler topped off with cold water from a nearby bucket. He then had to clean the cooking pots and preparation utensils. The next task was drying up and putting away. T-Boy was very particular about the tidiness and hygiene of “his” galley and there was a labelled place for everything. This made Steve’s labours reasonably easy and it was with a considerable sense of relief that he finally put away the last vessel.

Steve now took the opportunity to see how Scott was doing. Not a pretty sight!

T-Boy heard Steve call, “Please, Sir, I’ve finished.” This was probably a wise move, although it might not seem so. If he was not seen to be busy, further suffering was sure to ensue. T-Boy came away from the “entertainment” being provided by Scott to inspect the work so far.

He looked around his precious galley and noticed the remains on the food preparation area. He also decided that the galley in general was not clean enough for him. He took Little Steve’s jaw in his hand and tilted his head up to face him. “Clean this place up, slave.”

By now Steve had used all the boiling water for the dishes and there was no inside tap. Not good news. His master decided that Steve would have to make several journeys to the outside tap with a bucket to refill the boiler. There was no point in Steve’s trying to escape with the hobble and shackles on him. The Sea Scouts could hear his chains rattling to get a good idea of where he was.

T-Boy released his slave from the metal support, leaving him still hobbled and dragging the rest of his chain around. He also decided that, for the job in hand, Steve didn’t need so much separation of his hands. So he added another padlock shortening the chain to about 15 cms.

A full 20 litre bucket would have been heavy enough already for the little blond guy to carry with his hands fastened in front of him, but he would have to do it at least eight times, even without spillage, to ensure that the boiler was full. And it was now quite cold outside. Even the hard labour could not induce a sweat and there was now nearly as much goose-pimple as there was slave after the first few deliveries.

It must be said that T-Boy was not the only one becoming impressed by the little Land Farmer’s fortitude and stoicism.

The job was eventually completed after 10 bucketsful had been delivered but, of course, the water was not yet even tepid.

Having scraped the food preparation area clean and taken the food remains outside to the compost heap, Steve thought that it really wasn’t necessary for his master to fasten him to the sink support again. His master disagreed. He didn’t even lengthen his wrist shackles again. The chains were now chaffing quite badly but Little Steve didn’t want to display weakness.

The Galley Slave was left with water that was just off cold at best as he took the scrubbing brush to the galley surfaces. The loose section of his wrist restraints clanked almost rhythmically as he scrubbed. But there was worse to come.

The galley floor was now quite cold as Steve had to get down on his knees and scrub it. There was only the heat from the burner at the bottom of the boiler for comfort. The hard flagstones took some scrubbing before T-Boy was satisfied.

As Steve dried-off the floor, he wondered how much longer he could carry on but a quick look at Scott’s sufferings enabled him to find extra reserves.

His labours at an end, T-Boy unchained his slave from the support and took him across to the fire, next to where Scott still struggled to free himself from Alex’s hog-tie. The extra heat was welcome.

T-Boy noticed the chaffing caused by the tightness of the chains that he had applied to his slave earlier. He removed the padlock shortening Little Steve’s wrist shackles and loosened the loops around his wrists by two links. Steve was still unable to slip his wrists through the loops but the links of the chain no longer dug into him. The chain around his ankles was also loosened by one link on each side.

Steve was then ordered to step through the wrist-chain to put his wrists behind him. The padlock was then replaced drawing the slave’s wrists as close together as possible. His tormentors knew that he was supple enough to slip his backside between his arms and get his hands in front of him if the link was too long.

GP approached him with a roll of gaffer tape ready to blindfold him. Having had the previous blindfold ripped from his head, Little Steve wasn’t exactly keen to have the procedure repeated. It was time for drastic action. He decided that dignity could go hang.

“Permission to speak, my Masters.” implored the humble slave. Or at least that’s how he hoped the Sailor Boys would see it.

Permission was granted as long as the slave was prepared to touch his nose to the ground and beg.

“Dignity, be buggered.” he thought and knelt down and bent forwards, falling as he neared the floor until he was prostrate. He begged not to be blindfolded with the tape. He would rather suffer any alternative.

His masters graciously deigned to grant his humble petition. The Sea Scouts still needed him blindfolded in a way that would last overnight.

Steve felt like crap but he couldn’t put up with having tape pulled from his hair again and, as he lay there face down, he wondered what alternatives there were. He soon found out.

T-Boy found two redundant hike-tent bags in stores. They were the duffle bag style with drawstrings at one end.

Steve was hauled to his knees. GP, as usual, sprang into action. He pulled the smaller bag over his head and used the drawstring to fasten it, not too tightly, around his neck.

Even in the subdued light, Steve could still see light passing through the fabric when he faced the fire. Then GP added the second, rather more substantial bag over the first one. After it had been tied on, it was pulled down far enough to give a fair amount of fabric at the prisoner’s neck. The job was completed by the application of gaffer tape, again none too tightly, round both the bag and the victim’s neck. That did the job!

Little Steve had been here before (except for the chains and tent bags): on his knees, hands fixed behind him, hobbled and blindfolded. Plus ça change . . .

TBC

[Veracity]

The only problem with a story like this that I have already read many times (because it is truly one of my favorites) is that I miss out on things like brand new illustrations. Don’t know what motivated me to click in this time, but I’m glad I did.