Another from the old site. I'll consider it concluded as is and potentially work on a sequel. I'm also working on a non-tie-up sci-fi story so my writing time is stretched a bit!
The sun beat down on the rocks. Summer in the Rockies was always a great time. The fresh mountain air, the warm days and cool nights, and lots of places to go to be very alone. Duncan was enjoying the last part especially as he gripped the rock tightly. He was halfway up a large boulder, about 20 feet up this 40 foot face. Enjoyed the somewhat dangerous activity of climbing alone, though he'd taken precautions to anchor a rope above and had one end tied into his climbing harness and the other end through his GRIGRI, a belay device that would allow him to pull rope through in one direction but would require him to pull a lever to lower back down. In this way, he'd stop every few feet and pull more rope through, so that he'd be able to get caught by the rope in case he fell.
Aside from the harness and climbing shoes, he had only his Under Armour compression shorts in black and the faded blue Prana climbing shorts for clothing. The shorts, popular with many climbers, had a signature thick black elastic waistband topping the shorts. To fit well with harnesses, they were tight around his legs but had ample room in the crotch to allow for all the stretching movements necessary. In the mid-80s summer afternoon, it was all he needed, especially with the effort it was expending.
Pulling his body around an outcropping, Duncan let go with a hand to pull in his rope's slack. Once that was tight, he continued up. This was his last climb of the day, and he was glad his bag was at the top instead of the bottom. It didn't contain much now, just his spare climbing shorts (the same style in green), the t-shirt he'd hiked here in, a sweatshirt in case it got cold, and his ankle socks and hiking shoes. It would, after all, be a good three or four hours hike back to the cabin he'd rented for his hiking and climbing sabbatical trip. Duncan wasn't worried though. His phone had been on a solar charger on top of the boulder for awhile so he'd have plenty of GPS and flashlight time between that and his spare battery.
Arriving at the top, Duncan surveyed the scene behind him as he hung on his rope. His head was barely above the top of the boulder, so he knew he'd have no trouble climbing the last bit, but he wanted to rest on the harness and enjoy the view for awhile before setting himself back on horizontal ground. He absentmindedly brushed some of the chalk of his hands onto his shorts before reaching behind his back and closing the chalk bag that hung there on a thin belt he wrapped over the harness.
Duncan wasn't looking forward to lugging the rope and anchor gear back to the cabin and briefly contemplated leaving them there for tomorrow. But he could lose his gear that way, and climbing rope wasn't cheap at all. Still, there was no rush now, nobody waiting for him at the cabin that was all his for three whole weeks, and nobody expecting to hear from him until he returned home from his trip. Life was simple and good, he decided as he spread his arms out wide and placed each hand on top of the boulder behind him.
Without warning, his wrists were grabbed and quickly pulled together. Facing the wrong way and hanging from his harness, Duncan could only try to push out with his feet, but the harness fought against him as his own weight kept him from getting decent leverage. Before he could think, he felt metal around his wrists and discovered he couldn't move them apart or pull them toward his body. He attempted to turn his head to confirm that his wrists were cuffed and locked to the anchor, but hands roughly grabbed his head and a sickly sweet-smelling rag was shoved in his face.
The rag wasn't wet, but Duncan guessed the chemical was somewhere inside the folds of cloth. He thought he knew what it was, but he didn't pass out right away. He supposed chloroform didn't work like in the movies, all instant and such. Indeed, eventually things started to blur slowly. With his legs pointing the wrong way in the harness and his hands restrained, he couldn't do a thing to remove the rag held strongly in front of his mouth and nose. After a bit longer, he didn't much want to fight anyhow. Things got darker and his struggles lessened as his tired and sweaty body began to go limp. The last thing he thought before blacking out was, I wonder who was crazy enough to climb the hard side of this boulder without a rope?
Duncan's Unplanned Hike (m/m)
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Duncan's Unplanned Hike (m/m)
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slider40337
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Part II
The light slowly returned, though not as brightly as before. Duncan blinked a few times and felt his climbing harness digging into his seat. Strange, he thought, I must have bumped my head on the rock and gone a little woozy.
Duncan went to check his head, but found that he couldn't move his hands. Shaking a few more cobwebs out, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back, crossed at the wrists. Upon trying to get his feet against the rock, Duncan also noticed that they were tied together and bent up and further tied, putting him into a hogtie hanging from his climbing harness. Duncan also noticed that some more rope was wrapped around his bare chest and tied to the belaying rope, keeping him upright instead of flipping upside down like this position would naturally do in the climbing harness.
He was about halfway down the boulder, a few feet out from the rock because it was inverted slightly as it went down, and noticed that he was only hanging from one end of the rope. He looked up but couldn't see where his GRIGRI could have been attached to. Attempting to holler up to see if anybody was up there, Duncan noticed something else. His mouth was filled with something soft and pliable but he couldn't spit it out. Duct tape had been wrapped around his head, enough times that he couldn't get his lips apart even a bit. He squirmed and pulled against the ropes, but they were tied well enough that he wasn't going to be going anywhere.
A bag, his own, sailed down from the top of the boulder. For a moment, he worried something would break, but remembered that nothing in there was breakable unless whoever was up top had put his phone inside. Duncan looked down to where it landed, seeing a second pack nearby as well. This one was more full though, since Duncan's had space for the rope he was currently hanging by.
Without so much as someone leaning out to look, Duncan felt himself being slowly lowered. Whoever it was knew what they were doing though. In fact, thinking back to earlier, this person definitely knew what they were doing. The face Duncan had climbed was a low 5.11 climb, but the other side was either a high 5.11 or low 5.12. Impossible for an amateur and a challenge for even an experienced climber. Whoever it was absolutely knew climbing and climbing gear.
As he touched down, Duncan noticed that it was definitely dusk instead of afternoon. He must have been kept out for awhile as whoever it was made preparations to lower him. Fighting the ropes again, now on the ground, Duncan found them just as secure as before with the tension of hanging added. He grunted into the gag, but found that almost no noise came out. He certainly wouldn't be getting anybody else's attention out here in the mountains away from roads and beaten trails.
The rope and anchor also fell to the ground, leaving likely nothing left up there but his captor. He briefly considered trying to roll or crawl away, best as possible while hogtied, but he realized that he'd be dragging an 80 foot rope securely tied to his harness which could be easily grabbed to stop him. Duncan lie still and watched his captor climb down.
He wore blue gym shorts with a black stripe down the side and down-climbed like an expert. From the back muscles Duncan could see, the captor was every bit as strong as Duncan, possibly stronger. With the evenness in strength, Duncan saw little possibility in fighting back as long as he had rope on his arms. His captor likely new this. The other climber, looking like a college freshman or sophomore, seemed a couple years Duncan's junior.
The dusk light reflected off the captor's shorts as he neared the bottom, shadows being cast by the rocks on his body. With a graceful hop, the young man jumped down and walked over to Duncan with a grin on his face. “We've got quite a hike ahead of us,” he said, “Better get ready to walk until midnight.”
The light slowly returned, though not as brightly as before. Duncan blinked a few times and felt his climbing harness digging into his seat. Strange, he thought, I must have bumped my head on the rock and gone a little woozy.
Duncan went to check his head, but found that he couldn't move his hands. Shaking a few more cobwebs out, he realized that his hands were tied behind his back, crossed at the wrists. Upon trying to get his feet against the rock, Duncan also noticed that they were tied together and bent up and further tied, putting him into a hogtie hanging from his climbing harness. Duncan also noticed that some more rope was wrapped around his bare chest and tied to the belaying rope, keeping him upright instead of flipping upside down like this position would naturally do in the climbing harness.
He was about halfway down the boulder, a few feet out from the rock because it was inverted slightly as it went down, and noticed that he was only hanging from one end of the rope. He looked up but couldn't see where his GRIGRI could have been attached to. Attempting to holler up to see if anybody was up there, Duncan noticed something else. His mouth was filled with something soft and pliable but he couldn't spit it out. Duct tape had been wrapped around his head, enough times that he couldn't get his lips apart even a bit. He squirmed and pulled against the ropes, but they were tied well enough that he wasn't going to be going anywhere.
A bag, his own, sailed down from the top of the boulder. For a moment, he worried something would break, but remembered that nothing in there was breakable unless whoever was up top had put his phone inside. Duncan looked down to where it landed, seeing a second pack nearby as well. This one was more full though, since Duncan's had space for the rope he was currently hanging by.
Without so much as someone leaning out to look, Duncan felt himself being slowly lowered. Whoever it was knew what they were doing though. In fact, thinking back to earlier, this person definitely knew what they were doing. The face Duncan had climbed was a low 5.11 climb, but the other side was either a high 5.11 or low 5.12. Impossible for an amateur and a challenge for even an experienced climber. Whoever it was absolutely knew climbing and climbing gear.
As he touched down, Duncan noticed that it was definitely dusk instead of afternoon. He must have been kept out for awhile as whoever it was made preparations to lower him. Fighting the ropes again, now on the ground, Duncan found them just as secure as before with the tension of hanging added. He grunted into the gag, but found that almost no noise came out. He certainly wouldn't be getting anybody else's attention out here in the mountains away from roads and beaten trails.
The rope and anchor also fell to the ground, leaving likely nothing left up there but his captor. He briefly considered trying to roll or crawl away, best as possible while hogtied, but he realized that he'd be dragging an 80 foot rope securely tied to his harness which could be easily grabbed to stop him. Duncan lie still and watched his captor climb down.
He wore blue gym shorts with a black stripe down the side and down-climbed like an expert. From the back muscles Duncan could see, the captor was every bit as strong as Duncan, possibly stronger. With the evenness in strength, Duncan saw little possibility in fighting back as long as he had rope on his arms. His captor likely new this. The other climber, looking like a college freshman or sophomore, seemed a couple years Duncan's junior.
The dusk light reflected off the captor's shorts as he neared the bottom, shadows being cast by the rocks on his body. With a graceful hop, the young man jumped down and walked over to Duncan with a grin on his face. “We've got quite a hike ahead of us,” he said, “Better get ready to walk until midnight.”
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Part III
Mike eyed the hogtied climber on the ground in front of him. He wondered if the guy even recognized him. Probably not, but then again the chloroform was likely still wearing off. The guy hadn't tried to roll away while Mike was downclimbing, so that was a positive sign that he was already getting a bit submissive. Either that, or he knew that Mike would be able to grab any part of the 80 foot climbing rope still tied onto the captive's harness and pull him back in easily.
Checking the right pocket of his blue athletic shorts, Mike found and pulled out the handcuffs that had been in there. He had to get this guy ready to walk, but that meant making sure he wouldn't try anything. Mike flipped his captive over and slapped the cuffs onto his already bound wrists, making sure to loop the cuff chain through one of the accessory loops on the back on Duncan's harness. It would be helpful for his hands to be locked in addition to the rope, and keeping them secure against he harness would further the restraint.
Next, Mike looked at the long climbing rope, one end still securely tied to the front of Duncan's harness. Mike wished that he could make Duncan pack it up, but didn't trust his captive yet with free hands. Mike grabbed the rope close to the harness, ran a length up Duncan's chest and looped it a few times around the guy's neck. Duncan made angry gag sounds but Mike just knotted it off. It took a couple minutes to coil up the remaining rope length, as well as to pack the anchor straps and such into Duncan's bag.
“Ok,” Mike said, turning back to Duncan, “I'm going to untie your feet now and you're going to stand up. If you try anything, just remember the long rope tied to your neck and think about how far you'll get.”
* * *
Duncan moaned into the gag. If his feet were being untied, then he was really going to be made to walk. That also meant he could get lost and be unable to find his way back to the cabin, should he manage to evade his captor later. After the muscular captor worked at the ropes a bit, Duncan found he could extend his legs. A couple minutes later and he was able to move them freely.
With some difficulty, Duncan got himself up to his feet, his hands still securely tied behind him. He turned to see his captor putting on a black tank-top with orange stripes down the side. A sudden flash of memory hit Duncan, of the guy in the same outfit on a bouldering wall at a competition the previous winter. So that's who it is, Duncan thought, It's Mike, the guy I beat out at the top rope section of the championships!
Duncan started to panic. This was going to be more than some sort of climber's prank for sure. Mike had won both lead climbing and bouldering and had been pissed that Duncan had beat him out in the third category. It had nearly come to blows right there in front of a crowd, but now they were in the middle of nowhere and Duncan was helpless.
The weight of Duncan's pack on his shoulders brought him out of his thoughts and back to the moment. Mike came around and clipped the waist and chest straps on the pack, so even with Duncan's arms tied the pack was secure in place. Duncan looked down at his still strapped-on climbing shoes. Hiking would be murder is those. He looked up at Mike and tried to make as sad a look as he could manage with his face half-covered in tape. Mike followed Duncan's repeated gaze downward. “Ok,” Mike said, “Since we've got a full day's worth of hiking ahead of us, and your hands aren't coming loose for any of it, I suppose you can wear your hiking shoes instead.”
Mike had Duncan lift up one leg at a time to change out the shoes, then clipped Duncan's climbing shoes somewhere to his pack in the back. “You're going to go in front,” Mike said, “That way I can keep an eye on you. Remember, most if your climbing rope is in your back, but I'm holding the part that goes right to your neck. Try to run and you'll be on the ground before you know it.”
Duncan moaned and looked down at the ground. He tried a few more times to pull at the ropes on his hands, but there wasn't any movement there. Mike indicated a direction and Duncan started walking.
The sun eventually went down, bathing the whole area in the pitch dark of night without any artificial lights around. An LED flashlight clicked on behind Duncan and illuminated the path ahead. For a moment, Duncan had home that someone might see him in the flashlight. Even if that happened, however, Duncan would just look like a hiker gripping the bottom of his pack, and the light was pointed at the ground so the tape on his face wouldn't be visible from any sort of distance. Duncan resigned himself to the walk, knowing he was stuck for a good while.
The nighttime mountain air grew chilly, causing Duncan to shiver a bit despite the physical activity. His exposed shirtless body seemed to bleed heat as he walked, and he couldn't even so much as wrap his arms in front. He doubted Mike would be in the mood to let his arms go either, since that is what it would take to get a shirt on.
The moon was quite high by the time Mike tugged on the neck rope. “We're going to rest here until sunup,” Mike said, “It's four or five hours away, so I'll be taking a bit of a nap and want you secure first.”
Mike dropped his pack and opened it, pulling out four 12 inch tent pegs. Mike dropped them on the ground and stood Duncan under an overhanging tree branch. Mike then removed Duncan's pack. The cold air on his back made Duncan shiver even more. “Aww, a bit chilly?” Mike asked, “Guess you picked wrong with climbing shirtless earlier.”
Duncan wondered if he was going to be tied out to the tent stakes, since that would let his hands go at least long enough for Mike to let him get a shirt on. Mike didn't say anything more, however. Duncan felt the rope untied from his neck, but it still remained tied to his climbing harness. Mike then threw it over the hanging tree branch. The captor then tied Duncan's anchor straps to another small tree trunk several feet away and attached Duncan's belay device. A moment later, and the rope was run through it. The belay device would remain locked, and if Mike pulled the rope through it'd stay where he pulled it.
Mike then had Duncan lay down and proceeded to redo the hogtie from earlier. Duncan wondered if he was going to be hung up like earlier, but then remembered the stakes. Mike pounded those into the ground all around Duncan, centering him right underneath where the rope hung from above. Duncan was then roughly flipped onto his back and his tied limbs, which hurt a lot. Duncan grunted in protest, but Mike just laughed. “Don't worry,” he said, “You won't be on your hands for long.”
Mike tied some shorter ropes to Duncan's knees and then secured them to two of the pegs, spreading Duncan's legs apart wide. Mike then did the same treatment on Duncan's shoulders to the other two pegs. Duncan was stuck in place on his back. “One last touch,” Mike said, “And you're good for the night.”
The younger climber grabbed the rope near the belay device and did a pull-up on it. The resulting force pulled Duncan's midsection up off the ground. Mike then reached over with one hand and pulled rope through the GRIGRI, ensuring that the slack was well taken out. When he let go, Duncan dropped a small bit, but was still essentially off the ground, hogtied, and held face up by the four ropes to tent stakes.
Duncan grunted into the gag, annoyed since his head would flop upside down if he tried to rest his neck muscles. “Don't worry,” Mike said, “You need some rest too.”
With that, Mike shoved Duncan's pack under his head, giving him some measure of relaxation. Duncan felt gratitude for a moment, than anger as he realized that Mike was wearing his sweatshirt. Duncan tried to say some bad words through the gag, but it just came out as angry grunts. He squirmed against the ropes too, but his hands were still as secure as ever so he wasn't going anywhere. Mike curled up near Duncan on the ground and rested his head on his own pack. “Sleep tight,” Mike said, “We have another few hours hike in the morning so you should get some rest.”
Duncan tried his hands again to no avail, and resigned himself to being stuck there. He shivered in the cold, his thin shorts offering little protection as his only article of clothing.
Mike eyed the hogtied climber on the ground in front of him. He wondered if the guy even recognized him. Probably not, but then again the chloroform was likely still wearing off. The guy hadn't tried to roll away while Mike was downclimbing, so that was a positive sign that he was already getting a bit submissive. Either that, or he knew that Mike would be able to grab any part of the 80 foot climbing rope still tied onto the captive's harness and pull him back in easily.
Checking the right pocket of his blue athletic shorts, Mike found and pulled out the handcuffs that had been in there. He had to get this guy ready to walk, but that meant making sure he wouldn't try anything. Mike flipped his captive over and slapped the cuffs onto his already bound wrists, making sure to loop the cuff chain through one of the accessory loops on the back on Duncan's harness. It would be helpful for his hands to be locked in addition to the rope, and keeping them secure against he harness would further the restraint.
Next, Mike looked at the long climbing rope, one end still securely tied to the front of Duncan's harness. Mike wished that he could make Duncan pack it up, but didn't trust his captive yet with free hands. Mike grabbed the rope close to the harness, ran a length up Duncan's chest and looped it a few times around the guy's neck. Duncan made angry gag sounds but Mike just knotted it off. It took a couple minutes to coil up the remaining rope length, as well as to pack the anchor straps and such into Duncan's bag.
“Ok,” Mike said, turning back to Duncan, “I'm going to untie your feet now and you're going to stand up. If you try anything, just remember the long rope tied to your neck and think about how far you'll get.”
* * *
Duncan moaned into the gag. If his feet were being untied, then he was really going to be made to walk. That also meant he could get lost and be unable to find his way back to the cabin, should he manage to evade his captor later. After the muscular captor worked at the ropes a bit, Duncan found he could extend his legs. A couple minutes later and he was able to move them freely.
With some difficulty, Duncan got himself up to his feet, his hands still securely tied behind him. He turned to see his captor putting on a black tank-top with orange stripes down the side. A sudden flash of memory hit Duncan, of the guy in the same outfit on a bouldering wall at a competition the previous winter. So that's who it is, Duncan thought, It's Mike, the guy I beat out at the top rope section of the championships!
Duncan started to panic. This was going to be more than some sort of climber's prank for sure. Mike had won both lead climbing and bouldering and had been pissed that Duncan had beat him out in the third category. It had nearly come to blows right there in front of a crowd, but now they were in the middle of nowhere and Duncan was helpless.
The weight of Duncan's pack on his shoulders brought him out of his thoughts and back to the moment. Mike came around and clipped the waist and chest straps on the pack, so even with Duncan's arms tied the pack was secure in place. Duncan looked down at his still strapped-on climbing shoes. Hiking would be murder is those. He looked up at Mike and tried to make as sad a look as he could manage with his face half-covered in tape. Mike followed Duncan's repeated gaze downward. “Ok,” Mike said, “Since we've got a full day's worth of hiking ahead of us, and your hands aren't coming loose for any of it, I suppose you can wear your hiking shoes instead.”
Mike had Duncan lift up one leg at a time to change out the shoes, then clipped Duncan's climbing shoes somewhere to his pack in the back. “You're going to go in front,” Mike said, “That way I can keep an eye on you. Remember, most if your climbing rope is in your back, but I'm holding the part that goes right to your neck. Try to run and you'll be on the ground before you know it.”
Duncan moaned and looked down at the ground. He tried a few more times to pull at the ropes on his hands, but there wasn't any movement there. Mike indicated a direction and Duncan started walking.
The sun eventually went down, bathing the whole area in the pitch dark of night without any artificial lights around. An LED flashlight clicked on behind Duncan and illuminated the path ahead. For a moment, Duncan had home that someone might see him in the flashlight. Even if that happened, however, Duncan would just look like a hiker gripping the bottom of his pack, and the light was pointed at the ground so the tape on his face wouldn't be visible from any sort of distance. Duncan resigned himself to the walk, knowing he was stuck for a good while.
The nighttime mountain air grew chilly, causing Duncan to shiver a bit despite the physical activity. His exposed shirtless body seemed to bleed heat as he walked, and he couldn't even so much as wrap his arms in front. He doubted Mike would be in the mood to let his arms go either, since that is what it would take to get a shirt on.
The moon was quite high by the time Mike tugged on the neck rope. “We're going to rest here until sunup,” Mike said, “It's four or five hours away, so I'll be taking a bit of a nap and want you secure first.”
Mike dropped his pack and opened it, pulling out four 12 inch tent pegs. Mike dropped them on the ground and stood Duncan under an overhanging tree branch. Mike then removed Duncan's pack. The cold air on his back made Duncan shiver even more. “Aww, a bit chilly?” Mike asked, “Guess you picked wrong with climbing shirtless earlier.”
Duncan wondered if he was going to be tied out to the tent stakes, since that would let his hands go at least long enough for Mike to let him get a shirt on. Mike didn't say anything more, however. Duncan felt the rope untied from his neck, but it still remained tied to his climbing harness. Mike then threw it over the hanging tree branch. The captor then tied Duncan's anchor straps to another small tree trunk several feet away and attached Duncan's belay device. A moment later, and the rope was run through it. The belay device would remain locked, and if Mike pulled the rope through it'd stay where he pulled it.
Mike then had Duncan lay down and proceeded to redo the hogtie from earlier. Duncan wondered if he was going to be hung up like earlier, but then remembered the stakes. Mike pounded those into the ground all around Duncan, centering him right underneath where the rope hung from above. Duncan was then roughly flipped onto his back and his tied limbs, which hurt a lot. Duncan grunted in protest, but Mike just laughed. “Don't worry,” he said, “You won't be on your hands for long.”
Mike tied some shorter ropes to Duncan's knees and then secured them to two of the pegs, spreading Duncan's legs apart wide. Mike then did the same treatment on Duncan's shoulders to the other two pegs. Duncan was stuck in place on his back. “One last touch,” Mike said, “And you're good for the night.”
The younger climber grabbed the rope near the belay device and did a pull-up on it. The resulting force pulled Duncan's midsection up off the ground. Mike then reached over with one hand and pulled rope through the GRIGRI, ensuring that the slack was well taken out. When he let go, Duncan dropped a small bit, but was still essentially off the ground, hogtied, and held face up by the four ropes to tent stakes.
Duncan grunted into the gag, annoyed since his head would flop upside down if he tried to rest his neck muscles. “Don't worry,” Mike said, “You need some rest too.”
With that, Mike shoved Duncan's pack under his head, giving him some measure of relaxation. Duncan felt gratitude for a moment, than anger as he realized that Mike was wearing his sweatshirt. Duncan tried to say some bad words through the gag, but it just came out as angry grunts. He squirmed against the ropes too, but his hands were still as secure as ever so he wasn't going anywhere. Mike curled up near Duncan on the ground and rested his head on his own pack. “Sleep tight,” Mike said, “We have another few hours hike in the morning so you should get some rest.”
Duncan tried his hands again to no avail, and resigned himself to being stuck there. He shivered in the cold, his thin shorts offering little protection as his only article of clothing.
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Part IV (Conclusion awaiting sequel!)
Duncan's eyes shot open, blinded by the dawn's light. He'd kept dozing off and waking up through the night, the semi-suspended position and chilly air against his bare torso making sleep difficult to achieve, but he must have finally fallen into something like sleep. For a few moments, he clung to hope that it had been a bad dream and tried to sit up, but the ropes on his shoulders prevented the movement as they had all night.
Suddenly Duncan felt himself drop a few inches, right onto his hands (still bound behind him). He grunted angrily into the gag and squirmed, but his bound knees and shoulders still prevented anything but the weakest of thrashing. “Save your energy,” Mike said, busy untying the rig that had held Duncan up all night, “If we move quick, we’ll get to our destination by noon, and you don’t get any food until then.”
The captive moaned, his stomach already reminding him of fairly severe hunger. He was pretty thirsty too, and remembered that he hadn’t used the bathroom since climbing the previous evening. He’d definitely start feeling dehydration soon, but wagered Mike didn’t care much about that either. Indeed, Mike simply packed up the excess ropes and stakes and got Duncan into the same situation as before, leading him by the neck rope with his hands still tied.
Hours passed and Duncan lost track of distance and time. Being hungry and thirsty didn’t help with matters either. Occasionally his fingers would try to find a knot to with on, but he’d either give up soon or his fingers would touch the handcuffs and he’d be reminded that getting the rope off wouldn’t help anyhow. Even if Duncan did somehow get his hands completely free, he doubted that he’d be any sort of match for Mike in his tired and hungry state.
Sometimes Duncan would start to slow, but Mike would simply yank the neck rope and force Duncan to get his pace back up. His captor eventually removed the sweatshirt and tank top as the day grew warmer, leaving them both shirtless in their shorts. Try as he might, even the occasional attempt to shout or speak through the gag didn’t get any response except a quiet chuckle from Mike.
“One thing, before we go any farther,” Mike said.
His captor then went around behind Duncan and rummaged through his pack. Mike then walked back in front of Duncan, holding his phone. “I can’t have anybody potentially tracking you, after all,” Mike said, casually tossing the phone in a random direction as hard as he could.
Duncan watched in despair as his device disappeared into the brush, but Mike didn’t give him time to think as the neck rope was again yanked to force Duncan to continue walking.
After a long while, they arrived at a medium-sized cabin build into a hillside. Duncan could hear what sounded like a road nearby with some traffic sounds. He surmised that Mike had taken him a certain way to avoid any chance of discovery by others in the area. He saw a door leading directly into the lower level, as well as some lower windows that indicated a basement even below the cabin’s lower floor. This felt like bad news, as a basement would be a good place to keep him without chance of discovery. Duncan figured it was his last shot, but he’d take it. The captured climber ran full tilt at Mike, intending to knock him over and make a break for the road. He must have been slower than he’d thought, because Mike was ready and stopped Duncan cold with a hard fist to the stomach. Even Duncan’s toned abs couldn’t absorb the blow and he fell over in pain.
“I’d punish you for that,” Mike said, “But what’s next will already be bad enough. Besides, I have as long as I want to make you suffer.”
Duncan was then roughly pulled to his feet and dragged in the back door, through another door, and down dark stairs into a dark basement, only faint light from curtain-covered windows illuminating the room.
Mike pulled Duncan’s pack off and threw it into a corner, then dragged Duncan into a bathroom where a chain hung from the ceiling. Mike locked a rigid metal collar around Duncan’s neck and padlocked it to the chain. “I’m going to untie your hands and reapply the cuffs in front,” Mike said, “You have ten minutes to do your business and wash up before we move on. If you mess with the gag, there will be consequences.”
Duncan relished some use of his hands, and first used the toilet right away. He noticed that the chain to his collar wasn’t long enough to permit sitting, but he managed anyhow and then cleaned up as best as the sink allowed since the chain wasn’t long enough to let him go into the shower. He considered his situation and thought cooperation was the better choice at the moment, since even successfully knocking Mike out wouldn’t unlock the collar around his neck.
Mike then came back, took Duncan’s harness away leaving him in just his shorts and Under Armour, and then reapplied the handcuffs behind Duncan’s back and some manacles to his legs before unlocking the collar from the chain (but leaving it on). Duncan walked slowly, hobbled by the chains, as Mike pushed him into a windowless room in the basement. Duncan couldn’t see much but Mike had likely planned and didn’t seem to need light. Duncan was shoved up against a metal pole somewhere in the middle of the room and his collar was clicked to something. He couldn’t move his head up or down or away from the pole anymore. He then felt his hands uncuffed and recuffed behind him around the pole and heard another lock click shut by his hands. Something was attached to the cuffs because he couldn’t pull his hands toward the pole…they were forced away from it out behind him. A few more sounds near his feet left his ankles on either side of the pole and also held rigidly in place.
“Don’t worry,” Mike said, “You’ll get some food soon. We just have to change your gag to one that’ll let you eat. If you make a sound, I’ll knock you out again so I can apply it in quiet.”
Duncan nodded acknowledgement as best as he could and stayed still as Mike cut off and removed the duct tape and rag from his mouth. Wanting to express his hunger and thirst, Duncan remembered the warning and decided to stay quiet instead. Mike then brought out a double-sided sports mouthguard with a tube through the middle with some sort of blue putty stuck all into both sides of it. Duncan then shivered as he felt it inserted into his mouth and his jaw forced shut around it. Mike then put a ratchet strap under Duncan’s chin and over his head and tightened it, forcing the captive’s mouth closed around the mouth guard. Duncan felt what he’d feared, as the putty in the mouth guard started to harden. He was thankfully able to breathe through the tube, but it wasn’t enough space to let any sound out more than quiet whimpers as Duncan’s mouth was solidly frozen in place around the mouth guard. It’d take some time and his hands to get that mouthguard out now, but he’d have to open his jaw first. Mike made no move to undo the strap holding Duncan’s jaw shut either, but instead approached with a tube of superglue, which he applied to Duncan’s lips. Duncan tried screaming as Mike held his lips shut for the glue to harden and seal, but even his screams only emerged as muffled grunts through his gag.
“If you’re good, you might get solid food in a couple weeks,” Mike said, “But until then, fresh glue goes on daily.”
Duncan now fully realized how helpless he was, captured and silent in an unknown cabin and not due back home for another few days. “Now,” Mike said, “Your first lesson will be to understand that you have no freedom anymore. To reinforce this, you’ll spend time in this position. A long time. We’ll start with twenty-four hours and then return here every time you don’t cooperate.”
Mike held up a cup of water to the gag tube, which Duncan eagerly sucked up, before disappearing behind. Duncan heard a winch click and his hands were pulled even further back, forcing his back tight against the pole. “You look nice and uncomfortable now,” Mike said, “See you in twenty-four!”
Mike left and shut the door, the sound of a couple unnecessary locks clicking shut resonating through the room only accompanied by Duncan’s muffled screams behind sealed lips and an immobilized mouth.
Duncan's eyes shot open, blinded by the dawn's light. He'd kept dozing off and waking up through the night, the semi-suspended position and chilly air against his bare torso making sleep difficult to achieve, but he must have finally fallen into something like sleep. For a few moments, he clung to hope that it had been a bad dream and tried to sit up, but the ropes on his shoulders prevented the movement as they had all night.
Suddenly Duncan felt himself drop a few inches, right onto his hands (still bound behind him). He grunted angrily into the gag and squirmed, but his bound knees and shoulders still prevented anything but the weakest of thrashing. “Save your energy,” Mike said, busy untying the rig that had held Duncan up all night, “If we move quick, we’ll get to our destination by noon, and you don’t get any food until then.”
The captive moaned, his stomach already reminding him of fairly severe hunger. He was pretty thirsty too, and remembered that he hadn’t used the bathroom since climbing the previous evening. He’d definitely start feeling dehydration soon, but wagered Mike didn’t care much about that either. Indeed, Mike simply packed up the excess ropes and stakes and got Duncan into the same situation as before, leading him by the neck rope with his hands still tied.
Hours passed and Duncan lost track of distance and time. Being hungry and thirsty didn’t help with matters either. Occasionally his fingers would try to find a knot to with on, but he’d either give up soon or his fingers would touch the handcuffs and he’d be reminded that getting the rope off wouldn’t help anyhow. Even if Duncan did somehow get his hands completely free, he doubted that he’d be any sort of match for Mike in his tired and hungry state.
Sometimes Duncan would start to slow, but Mike would simply yank the neck rope and force Duncan to get his pace back up. His captor eventually removed the sweatshirt and tank top as the day grew warmer, leaving them both shirtless in their shorts. Try as he might, even the occasional attempt to shout or speak through the gag didn’t get any response except a quiet chuckle from Mike.
“One thing, before we go any farther,” Mike said.
His captor then went around behind Duncan and rummaged through his pack. Mike then walked back in front of Duncan, holding his phone. “I can’t have anybody potentially tracking you, after all,” Mike said, casually tossing the phone in a random direction as hard as he could.
Duncan watched in despair as his device disappeared into the brush, but Mike didn’t give him time to think as the neck rope was again yanked to force Duncan to continue walking.
After a long while, they arrived at a medium-sized cabin build into a hillside. Duncan could hear what sounded like a road nearby with some traffic sounds. He surmised that Mike had taken him a certain way to avoid any chance of discovery by others in the area. He saw a door leading directly into the lower level, as well as some lower windows that indicated a basement even below the cabin’s lower floor. This felt like bad news, as a basement would be a good place to keep him without chance of discovery. Duncan figured it was his last shot, but he’d take it. The captured climber ran full tilt at Mike, intending to knock him over and make a break for the road. He must have been slower than he’d thought, because Mike was ready and stopped Duncan cold with a hard fist to the stomach. Even Duncan’s toned abs couldn’t absorb the blow and he fell over in pain.
“I’d punish you for that,” Mike said, “But what’s next will already be bad enough. Besides, I have as long as I want to make you suffer.”
Duncan was then roughly pulled to his feet and dragged in the back door, through another door, and down dark stairs into a dark basement, only faint light from curtain-covered windows illuminating the room.
Mike pulled Duncan’s pack off and threw it into a corner, then dragged Duncan into a bathroom where a chain hung from the ceiling. Mike locked a rigid metal collar around Duncan’s neck and padlocked it to the chain. “I’m going to untie your hands and reapply the cuffs in front,” Mike said, “You have ten minutes to do your business and wash up before we move on. If you mess with the gag, there will be consequences.”
Duncan relished some use of his hands, and first used the toilet right away. He noticed that the chain to his collar wasn’t long enough to permit sitting, but he managed anyhow and then cleaned up as best as the sink allowed since the chain wasn’t long enough to let him go into the shower. He considered his situation and thought cooperation was the better choice at the moment, since even successfully knocking Mike out wouldn’t unlock the collar around his neck.
Mike then came back, took Duncan’s harness away leaving him in just his shorts and Under Armour, and then reapplied the handcuffs behind Duncan’s back and some manacles to his legs before unlocking the collar from the chain (but leaving it on). Duncan walked slowly, hobbled by the chains, as Mike pushed him into a windowless room in the basement. Duncan couldn’t see much but Mike had likely planned and didn’t seem to need light. Duncan was shoved up against a metal pole somewhere in the middle of the room and his collar was clicked to something. He couldn’t move his head up or down or away from the pole anymore. He then felt his hands uncuffed and recuffed behind him around the pole and heard another lock click shut by his hands. Something was attached to the cuffs because he couldn’t pull his hands toward the pole…they were forced away from it out behind him. A few more sounds near his feet left his ankles on either side of the pole and also held rigidly in place.
“Don’t worry,” Mike said, “You’ll get some food soon. We just have to change your gag to one that’ll let you eat. If you make a sound, I’ll knock you out again so I can apply it in quiet.”
Duncan nodded acknowledgement as best as he could and stayed still as Mike cut off and removed the duct tape and rag from his mouth. Wanting to express his hunger and thirst, Duncan remembered the warning and decided to stay quiet instead. Mike then brought out a double-sided sports mouthguard with a tube through the middle with some sort of blue putty stuck all into both sides of it. Duncan then shivered as he felt it inserted into his mouth and his jaw forced shut around it. Mike then put a ratchet strap under Duncan’s chin and over his head and tightened it, forcing the captive’s mouth closed around the mouth guard. Duncan felt what he’d feared, as the putty in the mouth guard started to harden. He was thankfully able to breathe through the tube, but it wasn’t enough space to let any sound out more than quiet whimpers as Duncan’s mouth was solidly frozen in place around the mouth guard. It’d take some time and his hands to get that mouthguard out now, but he’d have to open his jaw first. Mike made no move to undo the strap holding Duncan’s jaw shut either, but instead approached with a tube of superglue, which he applied to Duncan’s lips. Duncan tried screaming as Mike held his lips shut for the glue to harden and seal, but even his screams only emerged as muffled grunts through his gag.
“If you’re good, you might get solid food in a couple weeks,” Mike said, “But until then, fresh glue goes on daily.”
Duncan now fully realized how helpless he was, captured and silent in an unknown cabin and not due back home for another few days. “Now,” Mike said, “Your first lesson will be to understand that you have no freedom anymore. To reinforce this, you’ll spend time in this position. A long time. We’ll start with twenty-four hours and then return here every time you don’t cooperate.”
Mike held up a cup of water to the gag tube, which Duncan eagerly sucked up, before disappearing behind. Duncan heard a winch click and his hands were pulled even further back, forcing his back tight against the pole. “You look nice and uncomfortable now,” Mike said, “See you in twenty-four!”
Mike left and shut the door, the sound of a couple unnecessary locks clicking shut resonating through the room only accompanied by Duncan’s muffled screams behind sealed lips and an immobilized mouth.
It's good to see this one back on several fronts. It is an unusaul setting for a TUG story and is very well written. Also reminds me how mad climbers are - but not as unhinged as potholers!
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
but little Speedos always rule.
This is one of my favorite stories from the old site, so I’m so glad to see this again. I always was hoping to see it continue.
Great story, I love very tight and long term bondage. Plus the pictures give an extra thrill 
I'm glad this storry is back.
And I'm already curious how this story will continue. In particular, I wonder how this type and gaging will lead to further treatment of Duncan. I am totally curious about what Duncan in Mark's mind has done to get the treatment we have seen so far.
This layout expects a lot of excitement in the continuation of "Duncan's unplanned hike"
And I'm already curious how this story will continue. In particular, I wonder how this type and gaging will lead to further treatment of Duncan. I am totally curious about what Duncan in Mark's mind has done to get the treatment we have seen so far.
This layout expects a lot of excitement in the continuation of "Duncan's unplanned hike"
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Deleted User 122
Great story and a very different setting! I like it! I love the mouthguard bit