Quite a Boarding School! (mm/mm) New! January 16th

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Bondwriter
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Quite a Boarding School! (mm/mm) New! January 16th

Post by Bondwriter »

There was a repost of the first chapters of this story in the archives by Lorddunmore. Let's get it all in here!

This is the first story involving bonds and gags as a major feature in the tale that I wrote in English. The initial version was rather smutty, much as the stories of mine in the adult section. Then I lost two-thirds of my naughty story to a computer failure, with only the first 11 chapters backed up on disk.
When I started posting on boards over a decade ago, I shared it with members who wanted a toned-down version with a continuation, using the setting to have more elaborate tie-up game stories. I was entertained to do so.

Twenty-six chapters were posted on the tugstories site. I'm glad to let you know that five years ago, upon the request from a Reader, I wrote ten more chapters.

I'll repost the first twelve chapters today, with 13-26 next week. Then there'll be the new stuff.

Quite a boarding school!

1. A quiet study hall

Lewis Fatbind raised his head from the paper on which he was writing tonight’s set of instructions. He looked over the study hall he was in charge of. Three lines. Two rows. Twelve boys studying hard, using every single minute of the fifty minutes period to get done with their homework, to get rid of chores, to be ready for play time.

They kept concentrated at what they were doing, as there were twenty more minutes to go before they would go out for the first evening break, go and have dinner, take the second break and play some sports, then go back to their house where tonight was supposed to be special. And they still had to keep their reputation as the elite of academic studies at Saint Thomas More.

It was most pleasing to Fatbind’s eye to behold once more the wonderful setup of his study hall. He had designed it all by himself. And he had yet another occasion to admire how efficient the whole design was. Steven and Mike, two usually cheerful ninth graders, endeavoured to trade discretely a sharp pencil against a red ball pen.

They had managed to communicate about the object of the exchange without attracting their prefect’s attention, but they would eventually get caught in the act. Fatbind never really understood why some would still try their luck when any motion was so closely monitored and there was no real hope to go unnoticed when he watched them over.

So Steven and Mike decided to give it a little try. But of course the hobbles were too short. Not until these boys had done something foolish would have it been possible to notice that they were not totally free. Their legs were tied to those of the chairs they were sitting in. And some thin chains linked to some string bracelet forbade any motion outside from their studying position.

And it all ended in the pen and the pencil falling to the floor. They turned to Fatbind, quite sure they had been spotted, and he gave them his nicest ‘I’m glad you’re asking for it’ grin. They melted. They knew it was not the time to give him an opportunity to exclude them from tonight’s planned games and entertainment. But it was too late.

Fatbind rose from his desk and came to stand behind the two culprits. Even though they had wanted to beg for mercy, the very wide strip of transparent adhesive tape plastered over each mouth would have prevented such an attempt.

“Am I too lenient? You think you can disobey? Or are you volunteering for a little stay in the extra study room?”

Yeah. Right. A little stay, Steven thought. That was their luck, being denied the evening games by having to spend the evening in the small, bare room with just desks and chairs. And now they were his pick.

“You need a little stay at the pole right now,” said Lewis as he untied them from their seats while cuffing their hands behind their backs. He helped them up on the room wide podium upon which his own desk sat prominently.

Mike loved to see the prefect’s body set into motion. His figure was always enhanced by sexy sportswear. Today, he had his ultra tight ultra shiny track suit on. His 21 year-old body was lean and wiry, very similar to Mike’s own, and Lewis was one his most prominent role models at the moment. What could be at play in the fascination the boy had for the prefect?

2. Punished!

Both boys complied with his demand that they climb on the scaffold. The poles were two vertical bars made of wood lengthily waxed. They were solidly anchored into both the ceiling and the floor and were used for the penance of unruly schoolboys who did not focus enough on their independent studies.

The offenders were trussed up to the poles where they had to stay for a time that ranged from fifteen minutes to several hours. They then had to make up for the missed study time, which meant they then missed the play time.

He started roping Mike to the left pole, carefully linking his ankles, his knees, his upper thighs, his wrists, his arms and his neck to the wooden bar. He immediately went and worked on his other patron.

Barely ten minutes later were both boys faultlessly restrained. No ropes were actually biting into their flesh, yet their immobility was total and their hope for liberation resting in the hands of the quite unpredictable Lewis. He still had to add:

“And, to top it all…”

He went to search his desk. Steven knew what that meant. Lewis presented him first the pear gags he had selected for them. He slowly peeled away the very sticky tape that ensured Steven’s quietness when in the study hall and asked him to open wide.

Steven stretched his jaws and let Lewis’s fingers in. They grabbed a big block of yellow Play-doh that had kept his tongue from moving since he had entered the study hall. Lewis carefully laid it on a piece of paper towel he had spread on the desk.

He then undertook to make the boy silent again and shoved the pear into his mouth where it would make as good a job as the dough in suppressing any possibility of articulate speech. The leather casing of the whole apparatus succeeded not only in covering his lips and most of his lower face, but also in immobilizing his jaws.

Fatbind always gave the pupils he trained the best, and this time again he gave the best to Steven and Mike. He left them utterly motionless and speechless as he went to free the six remaining students who had just obediently witnessed the show of two of their fellow schoolboys on their way to being disciplined; they could only be glad not to have been chosen themselves…

3. Lewis' background

Such a scene was possible because of past events, in which the current prefect was involved, which changed the fate of the Saint Sebastian house at Saint Thomas More School for Boys. In this house, one of twelve named after a famous historical character, on the two upper floors of the three stories building, Lewis Fatbind had started it all.

It was seven years ago. He was one of the one-hundred and fifty boarders who stayed all week, sometimes even over the weekend. To most of those kids, it was a golden and cosy hell. But it was paradise for young Lewis Fatbind. He shared a room with two other kids he had known for the last three years, Fred and Ben. They thought of their trio as one of indefectible friends. And to some extent, that’s quite what they became.

The three boarders were then in eighth grade. If the reality of puberty had never been verbally addressed, they knew enough and some little details had come up like shaving, using a deodorant and some strange noises when the lights were out.

Lewis took great pleasure in sharing the intimacy of his two friends, but started to realize that he also had feelings towards them that did not have much to see with noble friendship. He knew deep in his heart that either Fred or Ben was suited to become his very special friend. He had to find out which.

Fred had more delicate features, with an almost oriental face, wonderful cheekbones, nice long fluffy eyelashes underlining deep brown eyes and lips Lewis dreamed of kissing. His slightly dark complexion gave him a very appealing look. (Lewis’s adjective at the time was more like “yummy!”) Lewis chose to take his chance with him first.

Actually, Ben happened to have to leave for a couple nights. Some swimming competition out of town. It was the perfect opportunity for Lewis to check Fred out. They had a little conversation, and it turned out that Fred had gotten subtle hints of Lewis’s attraction to him.

He wasn't able to reciprocate his attraction, though: Lewis was very surprised to learn his two fellow-boarders had actually already become somehow intimate. The summer before, Ben and Fred had camped for over ten days in a little remote place Ben’s parents owned far out up a little valley. It was a wood, with a cabin in the clearing by the pond, which was in fact an artificial widening of a much smaller stream.

They cooked on wood fires and ran around naked or in tight swimming suits, jumping into the clean water and spending lots of time laughing and fooling around with each other. Ben of course loved swimming. Fred enjoyed watching his graceful body cut through the water. Nights were particularly pleasant. And it all ended, which put both kids through hell. It felt like the two weeks before school resumed were the longest they had ever lived in their life. And once back, they had yet to preserve their secret.

4. Caught red-handed!

The next evening, the young farmer’s son who went to swimming competitions came back to Saint Thomas More. As the three came to their room where they would spend the evening and the night, Ben seemed cheerful enough. He was proud to show them the gold medal he had won in the contest.

A sponsor awarded the winners some equipment. Ben had got five pairs of swimming goggles and a set of swimwear: ten swimming trunks, in the maker’s brand new Glidor fibre, which was designed to let the water flow as much as possible on the material to improve performances. There were various designs on half of them. It had the other advantage to make it extra soft and as shiny as it could get.

“Hey! Why don't you try them on?”

Ben was most willing to abide. He went to change behind the screen in front of the sink, put there to ensure some kind of privacy to he who was standing there. Lewis loved the mirrors, though.

He came back and this material was incredible! It got him to look just like a swimming champion… And the black pair he had picked contrasted very nicely with his great complexion. Both viewers admired the shapes of their roommate.

He turned around a few times, and finding it funny, began to swirl faster and faster. He stopped, and lost his balance slightly, he went back up to his feet then fell on his bed, knocking his bag off the bedspread. The contents of the bag spilled out on the floor. Even though in a daze, Ben cried:

“No!”

“What's the matter?” Lewis asked.

He jumped on what was so valuable to the dizzy boy. On the carpet lied two other medals and two other sets of swimming trunks made out of this glossy Glidor fibre. Lewis was quick to realize.

“Man! You thief! The other team's awards!”

“Come on, Lewis, this was just a joke!”

“Like stealing is fun... You cheated, you'll have to pay!”

“What do you mean? You’re going to turn me in?”

“Not really. But what would you do to a guy if he stole your medals and your prizes? You wouldn't want to get even?”

“Well, I don’t know… I guess i's never happened to me before. You're not gonna tell on me, are you?” Ben asked in a worried tone.

Fred was overlooking the scene, noticing Lewis' smirk. The older boy had his sharp teeth showing, proving he had something at the back of his head. Something that could range from the mischievous and cute to the right down nasty…

“O.K., O.K.! If I got caught, maybe I'd deserve a good spanking, and maybe I'd no longer be allowed to compete in this league’s championship.”

“I don't know about the swimming league, but we can take care of this first thing you're talking about, my boy.”

5. Punished?

Lewis used some weird language sometimes. Ben thought he understood what was going on. The joyful grin on Fred’s face, who did not appear threatening even seemed to push him to yield into what Lewis was about to suggest slightly more explicitly.

“Indeed you deserve a good spanking. I think it'd settle the matter between us.”

Ben had his usual defying sweet smile.

“What right do you have to discipline me, pray thee my dear Lewis?” he teased him.

“None. I’m going to have to let the concerned authorities know about what some people lacking of fair-play do to make fun of their opponents. They'll be real happy to learn about your pranks. I don't think they'll consider them pranks, by the way... I'd be quite sad to see you thus put down...”

“What! You’re blackmailing me!”

Even thought the talk could have sounded like it was heating up, Ben was expecting something fun to happen; Lewis wouldn't play the snitch, but he would go for some of his usual fooling around.

“That’s a nasty word, but I guess you could say that…”

Lewis sneered at the boy, like any villain in a gangster story would have done. But it was Fred who convinced the defiant roommate.

“I guess you should be glad to get off the hook with just a spanking…”

Something in the tone of the soft oriental looking boy told him he was sincere. It could be a code word for some weird activity: spanking… Did Ben mind Lewis fondling his buttocks? No, he did not, especially with Fred watching.

“OK, I’m ready for your spanking, whatever it is.”

“You seem to be dressed properly for getting your punishment.”

“Which punishment?”

“Your butt is to be spanked as many times as there are hands in the room. This makes it six for tonight.”

It was genuine surprise that showed now on the guilty boy’s face.

“You’re really going to do that?”

“It’s up to you. Take it like a man or some letter could end at the swimming league’s headquarters...”

Ben decided to “take it like a man.” But things had to be done the proper way. When Fred asked him to bend over, he protested.

“That’s total nonsense! I’m not supposed to let you slap my buttocks. You need to force me a little, if this is meant to be a fun game.”

Fred and Lewis looked at each other. What did he mean? A game?

“You’ve got to restrain me, to prevent me from screaming and letting know about your secret justice.”

Lewis frowned. It made his nose wriggle in an interesting way.

“You mean, we should bind and gag you?”

“Yes, kind of…,” the handsome swimmer replied.

6. First tie-up

It clicked fast in Lewis Fatbind’s mind. He did not like the ‘kind of’ too much and acted fast before Ben could change his mind. He bent down to the floor, where he picked up the swimming goggles. He removed the fifteen rubber straps, keeping a fastener buckled on each.

He was ready to get Ben in position for his spanking. He got him to put his arms behind his back. Two of the straps were used to weld each elbow to the opposite wrist. He then put the magic of the Glidor fibre to the test, by encasing his arms into one of the swimming trunks, a slow process that could be successfully attempted because of the stretchiness of this material which still kept its gloss.

The crotch of the swimming suit stretched over his interlocked forearms. The flanks of his swimming trunks kept his shoulder blades pulled back, as they exerted their pressures on the arms just under the shoulders.

Fred had not remained inactive. He had thoroughly gagged the culprit. He had first grabbed a couple of swimming trunks. As the boy had pulled out his tongue, he had used the first pair to imprison the pink bit of flesh in such a way that, when the whole Glidor/tongue apparatus would be put back into his mouth, it would be impossible for Ben to articulate a single comprehensible piece of speech.

But he did not think this was enough, and used the other pair of swimming trunks as a mask, holding its edges behind his head with one of the rubber bands. Two other ones were used to pull the crotch beneath the chin and exerting some pressure on his lower jaw. The Glidor material was carefully spread on his lower face, the rubber straps keeping it closely against his already smooth skin.

“What a good job you have done! Punished with the stolen goods, that's fun. “

Lewis was genuinely impressed by Fred’s thorough silencing of their prisoner.

He then had a peek on the remaining contents of the sports bag.

“A nose plug… It wouldn’t be too good an idea, would it? What about the ear plugs, though? Here they are.”

Ben was deafened by the two rubber pieces which were softly inserted in his auditory canals.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your bathing cap? Did you pick a black rubber one on purpose or was it the only model?”

As he did not really expect an answer, he just pulled it down over the teen’s head, totally covering his hair.

“How sexy! It really enhances your eyes. And that fabric on your chin! That’s a really nice dark green. Hey what's this roll of tape?”

Ben was set aback by the comments made by his summer lover. The wraps of tape that went around his head, from his chin to the top of the head now prevented him from even trying to open his locked jaws. Yet he was tingled by the handling he was getting. The Glidor was not going to let him hide his feelings for long.

They then stood him facing a chair. With two rubber straps Lewis tied his ankles to the front legs, keeping thus his own apart. Poor little Ben was about to receive the punishment he deserved for his misdemeanour. But Fred and Lewis had a closer look at the loot he got into trouble for. In the wonderful world of Lewis Fatbind, it happened that one size was Fred’s whereas the other was his.

They chose two plain pairs of swimwear, one black, the other dark blue. The lustre of the fabric made them glow. They were impressed by the shape they got from the Glidor. So was Ben, whose feelings were now unmistakable! Lewis came close to him. Then he was spanked.

Both captors went at it, each giving one blow to the Glidored butt cheeks. They were right in gagging him, because he did grunt quite a bit. He let them know he felt it, or at least he tried. The five fingers were applied six times, and six times it felt different to young Ben.

“Very good, my boy, now it is certainly imprinting on your mind: 'I shall not steal my opponents’ gear.' It’s almost better than having you copy it a few hundreds of times!”

His feelings were so weirdly mixed, with him being so intensely shaken by these strange treatments! And that little moment had just been a wonderful time! He still felt woozy from the care he had been given... He felt another thrill running from his toes to the roots of his hair. They untied him and a little cleaning time ensued.

Ben then was slowly ungagged by the dark boy. It took him a while to remove the rubber cap. He combed his wet hair. He ended up stimulating his oral parts. They eventually fell asleep after a couple hours, and the three of them made very sweet dreams.

7. The beginning of a new life

They woke up and jumped into the showers, still empty in these wee hours of the morning. They came back to vent out the room and put away any incriminating evidence, in the back of the big cupboard they used to put their clothes and sports equipment away. They felt quite safe at Saint Thomas More, because the discipline was self-imposed.

The boarders were offered a wide range of activities mainly in sports, games, and music. It was a school for rich kids, and it showed. The campus-like school was huge, well planted with tall trees, gentle hills rolling over so each building felt almost as it stood on its own, the various houses spread around a massive central neo Tudor construction.

Twelve of them, named after Catholic martyrs. Young Lewis had the fate to live in the Saint Sebastian house. The mild-mannered crowd boarding at Saint Thomas More enjoyed very good conditions, and they were provided a good semi-progressive education.

The administration was giving enough time and efforts so they had no occasion to have to punish any improper behaviour. The atmosphere was relaxed and pleasant, everybody wanting to look like they had a good time. Tons of fun activities and good moments spent with well-minded adults.

But in this large educators’ team, it happened that the person who was most concerned in the whole school by Lewis and his friends' nightly activities was actually the one closest to them. Travis Miller was the prefect of the Saint Sebastian boys. He had managed to get hired because he was a former student of Saint Thomas More.

He had fond memories (very fond memories!) of his years as a boarder there, and the university in the nearby city provided the classes he needed to achieve his ambition to become a personal physical trainer. He was to become one of the twelve residence prefects in charge of houses which consisted in the upper floor of each of the buildings laid out in the park.

Distances were important, and had to be taken into accounts in scheduling, because there were several minutes of walk at least between each location. Travis had not been appointed to the Henry 8th house, where the gym was located. He happened to be in the communications building, which proved to be a blessing later on, because it’s how he got acquainted with Lewis and his friends, and then they got to use the facilities…

It all started in the restrooms of the Manor, as the central building was called. Travis had just got done emptying his bladder, standing in front of a toilet stool. He could not be seen from the door or the urinals, and he had not turned the stall’s light on.

Sheer laziness. He was waiting for the last possible drop to fall into the bowl. As he thought he was getting there, he heard some kids coming in. He identified the three voices immediately as being those of Lewis, Fred, and Ben, the three nice kids who shared a room in his house!

Travis stood still and stopped breathing, slowly zipping up. He was not allowed to make a noise, if he wanted to enjoy their private conversation. That’s something he could never do, because the walls and the doors of the bedrooms were so thick that it was impossible to hear a normal conversation. He even wondered if screams could be heard.

But the kids he was in charge of were very mellow, and he did not have to worry about them fooling around too much. At least until this very moment when he eavesdropped on an interesting verbal exchange…

8. Eavesdropping

“Yes, Ben, I know it feels strange but I sometimes need to extend the game to daytime. I thought we had an agreement on that.”

But it was Fred who answered.

“Yes, this is just very unpleasant, Lewis! What fun is it to be tortured with rubber bands? It just hurts, it’s not any fun!”

“A protest? Well, OK, maybe this isn't cool. You are in your lucky day; I’m going to let you remove the rubber straps. Too bad, I thought it would be fun.”

He was surprisingly willing to have ears for their complaints. Ben was in full agreement with the decision Lewis had just taken, and was glad to feel his fingers untying the rubber. But his next replied sounded strange.

“But I hope tonight you'll treat us right, Lewis, and tie us up tight because we're being particularly nasty!”

“Don’t worry; I have something in store that'll make you regret to have acted as such sissies!”

Being over with their little business, they left the restrooms.

Travis was still standing with his legs apart. He could not believe what he had just heard. He mulled over the conversation he had been the unknown witness to; was it really what he thought? Or was it his wild imagination? What was to take place tonight among the three boys? He had to find out, and he knew how. He walked back to Saint Sebastian.

He fetched a wireless microphone in the studio’s storage room. He climbed up to the third floor. After having made sure no one could see him, he opened the boys’ room with his pass. He crawled down under the bunk beds and laid the emitter on the floor. He exited the room and locked it. He walked down to his own room, which was an office with a bed and a desk, where he spent his evenings watching over the dorm.

Travis' job was not too difficult. He made sure everybody was in their room in time, and most often he stayed the rest of the night in his own office. There were boarders coming in at different times, because they were involved in various activities taking place in all of the school grounds.

The idea was that they came to their room when they were done with school stuff, merely to shower and go to bed: the teachers demanded a lot of work and involvement from students at Saint Thomas More. The curfew was set at ten, and Travis just had a quick glance to see if there were no lights still showing underneath the doors.

Travis was just there to check the nights would be peaceful. Some kids came to talk with him about their school day, and he tried to be a reassuring presence in this school which size could be overwhelming. Twice since the beginning of the year — and they were in March — he had had to intervene, because once some kids had forgotten about time because they were so engrossed in some innocent but intense reading of some detective dime novels.

The second time, it was a student who was preparing extra hard for some test. Travis had it easy, he was conscious of this fact. He got the small receiver out of his cupboard and plugged the earpiece into it. He was ready.

He had checked as soon as Lewis and Ben had entered their room that his transmitting device worked properly. He heard Lewis first:

“Go and have your shower, quick.”

“Yes!” an excited voice had answered.

It worked. He put the earpiece down. He studied until it was about time for curfew, having decided not to invade the kids’ privacy until they were supposed to be nicely tucked under their blankets, having dreams of serious, well-meaning teens. The first words he heard were again Lewis’s.

“Ben, the towel…”

Travis looked in the hall, and saw the light being turned off. Or rather, made to look like it was being turned off. Clever lads! Until this day he had been fooled. But tonight it was going to change…

9. An evening to make sure

“O.K., Fred. It’s time to get things going. Tie him up.”

From the comments Lewis made and the advice he gave, Travis understood Ben was pinned down on a chair where ropes held him firmly.

“OK, now the special briefs. Good, this Glidor looks great!”

“Now it’s your turn to sit on it. Your butt between his thighs… Yeah! Try to get your navel touching his… All right! Now your legs a little back. Let me use this rope…”

“Ouch!”

“Oops… Sorry!”

Fred sounded lustfully enthusiastic.

“Now, I’m gonna silence you nasty little sissies!”

“Please!” Ben pleaded half-heartedly.

Travis could not really figure out what was going on just by hearing what happened. He was rather puzzled… Soon he heard the muffled cries of the twosome. To Travis’s ears, these moans of two teenagers in action were sweet music. Now was the time to take his chance.

He grabbed his pass and burst out of his room. In his other hand Travis held a pair of handcuffs, because he was no total rookie when it came down to these games — but that would be yet another story to be told. The face of the lightly freckled reddish blond was displaying a glimmer of impish lust, irradiating through his blue eyes in spite of the weak lighting provided by the halls' night lights. Even though they would have locked their door and left the key inside the bolt, he could still have used his pass. But they actually had merely locked the door and put the key away somewhere.

“Lewis?” Travis whispered, as he closed the door behind him keeping his eyes on the captor who turned his back to him. He got a kick out of the panicked then surprised look he read on young Fatbind’s face. Caught red handed! And the looks of the prefect were flabbergasting. He wore track suit pants and a nylon tee shirt underlining his muscular chest and his thin waist.

Travis had decided to make a job of the gym, so he had to be in the best possible shape for the longest time if he did not want to lose his professional credibility. Lewis was staring blankly, gaping, and trying to think of something to say. But the surprise had struck him enough that he obeyed when Travis ordered him to get in position to get his hands cuffed behind his back.

A roll of wide athletic tape resting on the desk came in handy to keep Lewis quiet. Travis could not afford to take any risks in handling this situation. He then had a look at Ben and Fred. The latter was riding the former who was sitting, tied on a chair. They rested cheeks to cheeks, gagged with glossy nylon that Travis reckoned nicely sophisticated.

“Well, what have we got here?”

He patted Fred on his shoulder. It made the pair writhe a little.

“Most excellent, my dear Lewis. I think your two friends can stay in here for a little while.”

He addressed personally the bound pair.

“You have no reason to be afraid. You’re just going to wait. Lewis, did you stuff anything in their mouth?”

The three gagged teens denied vehemently, which made Travis smile mischievously. He knew they’d be safe if he left them here for a half hour. Plus the fact he was carrying the little receiver with him.

“Then I guess you just have to be a little patient. But it seems you know how to entertain yourselves. Lewis and I must talk, and we can’t do that here. But I have a place in mind. Call if needed, I can hear you.”

He waved the little electronic device.

10. Explanations

He grabbed the cuffed boy, and once he had checked the corridor was clear — and why would it not be? —he led him towards the other end of the building. They entered his office, and Travis opened a smaller door to his small apartment. For security reasons he slept in the office to be available to the kids in the dorm in case of emergency.

But he had the use of the apartment, a three bedroom unit located at the other end of a hall to which a small door gave access. This hall was desert, because it only served, a laundry room, a dark room and a few other places used as storage rooms. They did not lack space in Saint Thomas More. He walked Lewis all the way down the hall, and then unlocked a new door to let him cross the threshold of his lair.

It was a very plain apartment. In the living room there was mainly a big rectangular wooden table. This apartment was used mainly on week-ends by prefects who came here to have little dinner parties; most of them enjoyed spending a little time inside the school walls on their free time, because it was like owning it to some extent.

Leaving the captive teen standing, Travis went to the adjacent room; through the open door, Lewis noticed it was a bedroom. But he did not see where Travis got the ropes he came back with.

“Climb on the table and lay on your back.”

Lewis did not move. He was a little shocked. He was scolded.

“Come on, quick.”

He eventually reacted and came to the narrow end of the piece of furniture, where there was no chair. He turned around to present his Glidor clad butt to the edge of the table. He tiptoed his way up in sitting position. From there, he raised his legs, bending them at the knees and brought his heels into contact with the edge of the table.

He pushed his way gradually towards the middle of the wooden rectangle until his rear was in the center of the diagonals. He lay on his back despite the unease caused by his cuffed wrists in the small of his back.

This did not last too long, for Travis spread-eagled him to the legs of the table with ropes. He then came to the side, looked downward and locked his eyes into those of the gagged boy. With their faces back to front, the captive’s look seemed even more surprised.

“I need to ask you a few yes or no questions, so the tape is going to stay on your lips for a little while. First, did Ben and Fred ever tie you?”

Lewis denied.

“So, you tie them up? That’s what I needed to know. And did they give you oral favours?”

Lewis Fatbind opened his doe-like eyes yet wider, while vigorously shaking no with his head.

“There's no hurry for you guys to get into this type of things. But I just wanted to know…You already can think of clever set-ups. That's why I want to have a nice little chat with you.”

Lewis nodded yes so Travis, having laid along his prisoner, removed the strips of tape…

“It’s not like you are allowed to interrupt, but I think that as I tell you my little tale, you may have precisions to ask. Nod if you need explanations. I will try to be brief…”

11. Making decisions

It was less than half an hour than they met again with Ben and Fred. Lewis was free of any manacles and left to talk. He walked towards them, and started to explain the situation as he untied them.

“We were not discrete enough. Travis knew all about us. He has a vision and I think it could suit us.”

Travis stayed in the background, showing Lewis was granted free speech.

“He allows us to turn Saint Sebastian into a 'tie-up house'. And he offers us to help us doing it so. Personally, I’m all for it!”

His gag having been removed, Ben was able to ask:

“What? He wants us to make the rest of the house our prisoners?”

The usually shy Ben seemed exhilarated by the idea.

“No, but since there are already the three of us, maybe we could find other boys who would be willing to play these kinds of games.”

Fred was stunned.

“Wow! Cool!”

“As you say, my dear. Travis suggested we should try to investigate as discretely as possible on the on-goings of this school. He thinks there must be others like us. He says that here, it hangs in the air.”

“What do you mean?”

“It seems a good share of the boys who come here end up playing games with ropes and ties, and they even sometimes become very good friends.”

“Is that right?”

“Travis met quite a few when he studied here.”

“Oh!”

There was surprise and excitement in Ben’s voice. Their talk went on for a little longer, making plans on how to attract new members in their little society. Eventually, Travis reminded them of his presence, cutting gently into the boys’ merry conversation.

“There will be time for deciding on how to do it. But it is getting late, and you should have been asleep for way over one hour. It is time to wish you a goodnight and go to sleep.”

Soon the teens were on their way to bed, their heads designing imaginative plans to get more people to play with. They all fell asleep smiling…

12. Breakfast story…

The next morning, the three friends were having breakfast at the same table. They discussed the ideas that had come to them overnight. Fred, for once, was rather enthusiastic about what he had thought about.

“Do you see who this guy Keith is?”

“Yes,” Lewis replied, “the short blonde guy we are in maths class with.”

“Cowboy? The cute guy with thick hair? The one who had to remove his earring thanks to the teachers’ harassing?”

Ben was a straight As student, especially in maths and science, but he hated when teachers picked on other kids for their looks, or for what they wore. He would have hated being picked on himself, but he did not have any extravagant taste, except of late for his underwear, but there was little chance the teachers would find out!

“Yes, him.” Fred smiled, which he only did when he was really happy. “Last year, I saw him do something which makes me think he might be interested in our games…”

He paused, enjoying the impatient look on his friends' faces as they were waiting for his tale.

“Tell us, come on!” Lewis said, as he was keen on knowing what it was all about.

“Well he bet with Jason…”

“You mean 'the Boar'?” Ben interrupted him.

“Yes, the Boar… So he bet him he could get out of handcuffs… Any kind! Jason's father is a cop, so the next week, he brought his father's handcuffs with. I was in the hall when Jason told Cowboy they could have the challenge. They planned to meet by the football field at four. So I was there a few minutes earlier. I hid behind the hedge.”

He paused for a second, and by the eager looks on his friends' faces, he knew he had to go on.

“I was there a little before four; the Boar and his friend Josh came in right after. Then Cowboy came along with Billy.”

“You mean his friend with the cap?” Ben said. He could not believe Fred was thinking of these two guys, for they both were boys he had looked up to, never daring to talk to them, but he wished he had. He was anxious to hear some more.

“Yup. The whole thing didn't last long. Cowboy asked to see the handcuffs, and then the Boar locked his wrists into them…”

“Like in front?” Lewis enquired, curious about the technicalities.

“No, behind his back! It took Cowboy less than two minutes to get rid of them. The Boar was pissed, I'll tell ya!”

Ben laughed. He hated Jason since he had bullied him two years previous because he got good grades, calling him a teacher's pet and beating him up cowardly with his pal Josh. Ben was no snitch, so he had not told on Jason, but he kept this sad event in the back of his mind, knowing he'd get his revenge one day or the other.

“I wish I had been there,” the smaller teen said, “but why didn't you tell us, Fred?”

Fred had a smile that was slightly embarrassed.

“I didn't know what you guys would think about this whole escapology thing…”

“Now we may talk about it!” Lewis stated proudly. “And we should certainly investigate this most interesting duo, isn’t that obvious? Let me tell you about the little plan I have in mind in order to find out whether they want to join our little club…”

Fred and Ben listened fervently, thinking how clever Lewis was to design such brainy plans…

TBC
Last edited by Bondwriter 2 years ago, edited 32 times in total.
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Post by Xtc »

I'm genuinely delighted to have this classic lodged here but I do wish it had been posted in smaller, more accessible chapters. Sorry to be a wet blanket but people only have so much time to devote to reading things on this site and elsewhere and I think it will put people of from embarking on the tale. That would be a shame because I read it several times in its original incarnation.
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Post by Jason07 »

Well I’ll be damned, I never thought I’d see this gem again! I recall reading this set of stories just about a decade ago. XDD Glad to see it still lives and continues to flourish! I look forward to it all the more!
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks, Jason. I'm happy people get a kick out of finding these stories anew.
@ Xtc: I almost posted the first 26 chapters at once. These stories were online on the tugstories site for over a decade. And it's been hard enough to get motivated to post that I don't decide to go for 38 weekly postings. I'll post the new chapters one by one, to get back into the serial mood. And I'll do two posts for the remainder of the already posted part.

13. Lewis' plan in action

The next Wednesday, after football practice, Keith walked back to St Peter, the house where his dorm was. He was by himself, for the coach had told Billy he had to go to the Main Office, which was located in the main building right in the middle of the school. Billy was his roommate and had been his friend for three years now.

They got along well. They had had a great football practice, and Keith was returning to his house satisfied with this autumn afternoon. They had won the game, and he had scored a few goals, which was enough to make him happy.

Now a good shower, getting rid of the homework, and they would have a fun evening with Billy. They had some talent with drawing, and they had gotten into drawing a full comic since the year had started. It was an adventure with a boy detective, his sidekick, and tons of villains whose main occupation seemed to tie up the detective and his friend.

He was thinking of how he would lay out his page with some new shenanigans by the villains, and was not really paying attention to what was going on around him. He just mindlessly followed the thin strip of cement that wound through the huge park, and was now reaching the undergrowth of a small wood that hid Saint Peter from the rest of the building.

Then, out of nowhere, three dark figures jumped on him. He had no time to react, and three pairs of arms had grabbed him. He had a flash of panic. He had not many enemies, but the few he had were some mean bastards. They all were policemen’s sons Billy and he had bet with and managed to relieve of a few pounds by showing them how he could not be kept by handcuffs.

They both were escapology specialists who prided themselves on getting out from many difficult tie-up positions. It was dark so he could not make out who his assailants were. But by the smell, and the size and build of the three kids holding his limbs and hand gagging him, he knew they were not the Boar or any of the other unsavoury bullies.

He did struggle, but to no avail, for very soon he felt rope encircling his wrists. That would be child play to get out of, but then his elbows were forcefully tied with another strand of soft but thick rope. The hand covering his mouth was removed, and he started insulting the attackers: “Lemme go, you b…mmmph!” This latest profanity was muffled by a ball of soft material that was packed inside his mouth.

Then two strips of tape got plastered over his lips, making his attempts at insulting his muggers futile. He tried to kick them, but now his arms were bound, they had little trouble in immobilizing his bare legs with coils of rope snugly wrapped at strategic points. In two minutes at the most they had him trussed up.

Keith was wondering what was going on. He was not frightened or shocked, since it was far from being the first time he was bound and gagged. And he knew by the way it had been done that these guys knew what they were doing. There had been no brutality but skilful technique put into overpowering him. The knots were not overly tight, and he felt them a bit. Three to four minutes to get out, he assessed. But he was dragged inside the wood, where he was made to stand against a maple tree, and more rope was used to truss him up.

He felt the three pairs of hands threading rope here and there, and (was it because of the darkness?) fondling his bare legs and his torso rather warmly. He still had no clue whatsoever as to the kids' identity. And he did not like their silence.

Not a word had been spoken; still they had perfectly coordinated their efforts so he soon was the regular guy in distress tightly tied to his tree. They did not draw the new ropes excessively tight, but still, having his arms behind his back was rather uncomfortable. And it would make escaping slightly longer than usual.

The three figures went back hiding behind a bush, as Keith was already feeling the rope work to find a way out. It had not been a minute when he heard someone coming on the path, whistling a Django Reinhardt tune. Billy! He moaned into the tight gag, but his friend apparently could not hear a thing!

The wind was against him, and he could wriggle and grunt all he could, Billy got seized as he had been. He heard a short struggle, a yell that was quickly muffled, and two minutes later, Billy was stood on the opposite side of the tree, and the three mysterious boys set to wrap him in ropes as they had his friend.

Billy had not suspected anything, but as he had been grabbed by surprise, he had suddenly realized that it was not by chance that he had been summoned to the Main Office. The secretary had looked at him in surprise as he had showed up after practice, wondering what he wanted; some administrative mistake, certainly, but nothing that had alarmed him. So he had walked back to Saint Peter joyfully, in a similar state of mind as his friend's ten minutes before.

He first had thought Keith had gotten friends to pull some prank on him, but when he got pulled over towards the tree, he saw that his friend was already there and apparently well trussed up. Once the three “villains” were done taking care of Billy, threading ropes behind Keith so the two sets of cords were each tying up a different boy, a torch was lit up, revealing to Lewis, Ben and Fred's eyes the result of their efforts.

Lewis spoke up. “So we were told you were escapologists? I've always wondered how these tricks worked… I guess you're going to show us!”

The only reply was two disgruntled grunts from the two truly upset boys. The remark from Ben did not soothe their anger.

“Aren't they cute in their little footie kits? And there's not much they can do about us… Ha ha!” Keith and Billy now knew who was making fun of their sportswear. It was this shy kid whom they knew from maths class. And his two friends, who seemed content in watching them wriggling ever so slightly in their football kits.

It had to be said also that at Thomas More, the football uniforms were rather unusual, due to the mass purchase of Adidas kits twenty years back, which had allowed the team to wear out of date sportswear for the last fifteen years. The Beckenbauer shorts were very short shorts, not that Keith and Billy minded seeing too much having their thighs bare, or for that matter seeing their team-mates' legs. Of course there were some sniggers from opponents when they had to play outside, but as they kicked butts on a regular basis, the sniggers usually turned into moans.

“Indeed they are!” Fred added, “and how much time should we give them to try and get out?”

“Fifteen minutes seem reasonable if they are any good…” Lewis gloated. “Let's leave them on their own device for now. We'll come back later to see how they extricated from this utterly debasing predicament. But I highly doubt it!” He chuckled, and the three friends moved away.

Even though speech was impossible, Keith and Billy soon realised the major mistake the kid who thought he was a reincarnation of Oscar Wilde and his cronies had made. They had left each other's knots within reach of both boys' hands. So less than two minutes later, the ropes' grip loosened. And from there, in one minute at the most they were released from the tree.

They hopped a little so they stood back to back to untie the ropes holding their arms; another two minutes and they had the use of their arms. Then, each of them got rid of the gag; as they removed the ropes wrapped around their legs, they whispered.

“Are you OK Billy?”

“Yeah, no sweat. This is just a bunch of amateurs.”

“Yup!” Keith replied.

Of course, this was not entirely true, but they would not admit the other boys knew their stuff after they had screwed up big time at the last minute. “Is it time for some payback?”

“You bet, Cowboy, we've got all we need here!”

It wasn't easy to see in the dark, but Keith saw Billy waving the coils of rope and the stuff that had been used to gag them.

14. The tables get turned all the way around.

They moved stealthily towards the three other boys, led by the sound of their voices.

“OK!” Lewis was saying “They've got seven more minutes to get out. But I doubt they do. Man, this was a lot of rope we used on them!”

“This has worked really well!” Ben cried out excitedly. “This was fun!”

“OK guys, I'll be right back…” Lewis stated. And he walked inside the wood, heading inexorably towards Keith and Billy. He stopped two feet from them, and turned around a bit. From the noise they heard, they knew Lewis was relieving his bladder. Two silent figures approached him, and he had barely zipped his fly that a hand got clamped over his mouth. It was Billy's, as Keith had grabbed his ankles and yanked them.

They softly brought the flabbergasted Lewis down, and jumped on him with the ropes. Billy quickly stuffed his mouth with the nylon balls that he then trapped inside his mouth with his favourite white handkerchief (that was clean, should we say), while Keith had restrained his ankles. Next they took care of his wrists and elbows. They had to put all their weight into keeping Lewis down, for he was bucking and squirming like crazy. But then it soon was hopeless for the leader of the gang.

They were just done trussing up Lewis when the other two boys came over, preceded by the light from the torch. Too bad for Keith and Billy it was dark; otherwise they would have enjoyed Ben's incredulous look, and Fred's disbelieving eyes.

“Hey! What did you do to Lewis?” Ben exclaimed, forgetting all of a sudden that they had just indulged in kidnapping two of their fellow-students within the last twenty minutes.

“Ah! Ah!” Billy laughed, “We just showed him how you should truss a guy up properly when you're serious about it!”

Fred was awestruck. “But… but… how did you escape?”

Lewis grunted noisily, thus seconding his friend's question.

“You don't expect us to tell you how, do you?” Keith answered while patting Lewis' head, knowing he would annoy him a bit further. “Escapologists don't give their tricks away! Now, could you tell us what this was all about?”

Ben and Fred went into explaining what had been going on for the last few weeks in Saint Sebastian house, while Keith and Billy asked many questions on the details of the story. No one bothered getting Lewis out of his uncomfortable predicament, in spite of several groans and mphs that meant he wanted out, each of which was followed by a little pat on the head from Keith.

“That's why,” Fred concluded “you should come and see Travis tomorrow. Then, if you want, you could move to Saint Sebastian after the autumn break, and, well, we could play together…”

“What do you think, K.?”

“It sounds good to me!” Billy replied enthusiastically. “Now, should we untie Lewis?”

Ben was prompt in replying. “Uh… No, just his legs, maybe, we're going to walk him to the house!”

It was the first time Lewis was at his mercy, and he was exhilarated by the prospect of taking him back to the house bound and gagged.

“MMMmmmbbblmmm!!!” Lewis mumbled angrily.

“OK, see you tomorrow!” Fred said as he pushed the infuriated Lewis in front of him, as the five boys parted for the evening…

Once the two small groups were twenty feet away, the two football players could no longer hear the bossy kid's protests.

“Quite a gag you've used on him Billy…”

“Oh yes! And I think there's much more fun in store for us…

15. Welcome party

It was early November, and it had been three weeks since Keith and Billy joined the group. After the initiation had proved their expertise when it came to tying knots, they met Travis, along with Lewis and his mates. They would move in to Saint Sebastian after the break. But they all stayed one extra day before they went home for one week. Travis had managed to set up an “Initiation to mountain climbing” on Saturday. No one had questioned the validity or the usefulness of such an activity, and so they all stayed in Saint Sebastian House for the session.

Philip was a bit nervous when he ended up with his five new “friends.” He was aware that if there was no mountain climbing planned, some initiation was, and ropes would be as much involved as in mountaineering. Only that they'd be used a bit differently. He was both looking forward and dreading this moment.

He knew two of the boys a bit better than the three others, for he was in Ben's class and he had spent a weekend at his place working on a science project; Fred had been there too, and it had been quite a fun time; they got the science project out of the way on Friday evening, and they had the rest of the weekend to go take walks, play videogames or basically fool around. The fooling around had actually been some practice of escape artistry. Philip didn’t tell Ben and Fred straight away he and his brothers had trained quite a bit escaping ropes, and he had then impressed the two friends.

As Ben and Fred challenged the black-haired boy to try to escape first, he had complied and let them get him in a hog-tie. But as they didn't know he was already a trained player, they had not tightened the rope too much. In ten minutes he was out, and grinned to Ben when he had removed the piece of tape mock-gagging him: “Who's next?”

The sleight-of-hand he had displayed in trussing poor Ben down on his chair, and the quite muffling and mouth-filling gag that had left him speechless was evidence of previous misdeeds. The rest of the evening had been spent in telling stories of the boys' various tie-up games.

They had naturally thought of him for their little troop, and had asked everyone on the following Monday at the weekly meeting. As he was a member of the football team, Billy and Keith knew him a bit, and though Philip was not the most outspoken player, he had some wry sense of humour that usually was right on target. Billy had frowned imperceptibly at Keith's mention of how good Philip's shorts looked on him; he agreed, for their team-mate had a square build, a really nice butt and nicely muscled hairy legs but this clothing detail had gotten the discussion rolling onto another item that was on the meeting's agenda.

As they were to have their first full day session, they had wondered whether they should adopt some uniform for their club. Ben suggested the football kit first. He knew about the endless supplies; everyone knew about it, with all the jokes about the players' outdated looks. Lewis didn't say peep, as the idea of everybody's legs showing was compelling, but as he had himself made fun of the footie kits, he couldn't really say it out loud. Everybody raised their hand for the vote, so Lewis pretended he reluctantly agreed by raising his own.

“Yeah, well, it might be more practical for playing…” he noncommittally said.

And so were the six lads clad in black and yellow nylon, ready for twenty-four hours of fun. There were only eight people staying in the huge estate: the custodian at the entrance, a mile away from them, Travis and them. They were chatting as they waited for the prefect in the “screening room” on the first floor of Saint Sebastian.

Philip didn't want to get paranoid, but he was throwing nervous glances, wondering when the little ceremony would start. Lewis' comments over the last few days about 'hazing', 'trials', 'initiation rites' made him want this moment to be over as soon as possible. His piercing blue eyes scrutinized the little group, waiting for any hint of them coming at him.

Travis eventually walked in. He wore his regular school uniform, but didn't comment about the outfits. He thought it rather cute they had chosen to be dressed like this but as he had had no say in the choice he did not want to comment on it. No need to ruin how the whole thing was turning out.

“Let's kick off this little day of fun with a film!”

He inserted a tape in the VCR. As the film started, he heard some bickering from Lewis but he did not have to get involved.

“Lame! A black and white picture!”

“Why don't you shut up, Lewis? You're being lame,” Billy replied. He was always annoyed at this kind of comment he found stupid.

It was an old French movie, the War of the Buttons.

“Subtitles!” Lewis groaned.

“Wish I'd brought a roll of tape…” Billy whispered.

Soon the major drawbacks Lewis had pointed out were forgotten, and the merciless feuds of two rival gangs of country lads mesmerized the six boys. Or at least five of them; Philip felt a bit uneasy when the audience burst into laughter at the misfortune of the guys made prisoners. Just before the final scene, seeing the two leaders, Lebrac and l'Aztec making peace in the boarding school they'd both been sent to as a punishment, in a memorable pillow fight, Travis had gone out unnoticed.

Lewis stood up and turned the lights back on.

“Philip, it's time for your official initiation. Stand in front.”

Lewis and the newbie soon faced each other, with the four other boys surrounding them. Lewis handed the new recruit two sticks.

“Philip, you must show us how you can use this piece of rope, and demonstrate how you can make a cross out of these sticks using a lark's head, a clove hitch and a square knot.”

Philip had reviewed almost thirty knots in anticipation of this moment, and he was asked to perform something barely worthy of a cub scout? It took him less than two minutes to hand out the result. The bound sticks went from hand to hand, everyone nodding and approving the job.

Fred had rolled the ball for the next phase.

“What's the first rule?”

“Never cut off circulation.”

“What's the second rule?” Keith asked.

“Never cut off breathing.”

“What's the third rule?” Billy enquired.

“Always be considerate of others. No blood shall be shed.”

“What's the fourth rule?” Ben finished.

“Never do a half-hearted job.”

There was silence. They all exchanged looks, and with Fred behind him and Billy and Keith by his sides, it was tough for him to look at everyone. Philip reviewed his replies in his head. He had not flunked, had he? He was puzzled. Lewis broke the silence.

“So, what do you think, my fellow knot-tiers?”

“HE'S IN, HOORAY!” they all shouted.

Philip beamed, which was unusual. Lewis looked at him and he felt quite special. They all embraced him and patted his back. Was that it? Philip could not believe that it had all gone so fast.

“OK, lads, time for action!” Lewis roared.

Philip was only half-surprised by the ten arms that grabbed his four limbs and prevented him from protesting, Ben's hand covering his mouth. He struggled nonetheless, and managed to kick Lewis in his balls as he had not taken hold of his left leg strongly enough.

“Ouch! You bastard! You're gonna pay for this! Up to the dorm, lads!”

Philip felt lifted up and taken outside the room, wriggling and giving off muffled curses.

“Watch out, Phil, we wouldn't want you to get hurt falling in the stairs, I want you in shape when I get back at you… So quit squirming!” Lewis snarled.

Keith felt like taking advantage of the situation to make fun of Lewis, but part of the initiation meant they had to stick together. There would be other opportunities to ridicule the “leader”.

Soon they were in Lewis and Fred's room. They laid Philip on the bed and seized the ropes that were on the desk.

“Spread-eagle time!” Ben joyfully squeaked.

It didn't take too long before Philip was stretched over the mattress, forming a perfect X, with Ben's sweaty hand preventing him to beg for mercy.

“Time for the gag, before the real crap starts. Would you mind taking care of silencing the little rebel, Freddy dear?”

“Not at all, this'll be a pleasure.” Fred grinned as he approached with tape and scarves in his hands…

16. A busy evening begins.

Phil's mouth was full of the flimsy material, a compact ball of silk being held in his mouth by the black silk in which it was rolled that was tightly knotted at the nape of his neck. Fred then stuck strip after strip of the wide white tape, first criss-crossed then horizontal, to conceal his lower face under the soft sticky material.

He gazed intently into Phil's eyes as he worked with care, smoothing the tape and caressing his face with his nimble fingers, letting him know with a grin he was in good hands. At least until the torture part would begin.

Meanwhile, there were other busy hands as ropes at the elbows and knees were tied to the bed frame, restraining the boy undergoing the initiation a bit further. Phil's shirt had been removed, so he was only wearing the regulatory Glidor briefs and the tight black shorts above.

The two layers of gleaming material didn't allow him to preserve his modesty, especially since the predicament he was in had him all worked up. No one commented on this, since it was one of the untold rules that it would be in poor taste to do so. Lewis could not help breaking the silence.

“His legs are bloody hairy, lads, aren't they? A regular chimpanzee, isn't he?” he said as he pulled on Phil's hairs at the calves. He sneered at the grunt he got.

“Come on, Lewis, wait a bit for us before we get mean!” Billy scolded. He had a hard time with Lewis making fun of others' looks. The work went on in silence. Soon they were all done.

“Ben, you're up to start the first test,” Lewis said before turning to Philip. “He's going to study your ticklishness. We want to find out your most ticklish spots. It'll be useful later on.”

Philip had endured quite a few tickling tortures at the hands of his younger brothers, but the five pairs of eyes that turned towards him with smiles on the faces saying “We're going to revel in the show” made him a bit uncomfortable. He gulped as much as his crammed mouth allowed and braced for the ordeal.

Ben approached, a long feather in his right hand that he brandished as Arthur waving Excalibur after he got it out from the anvil. With Keith and Billy on the right side of the bunk bed, Lewis at the footboard and Fred at his sides, the young swimmer sat on the mattress next to the spread-eagled victim. He leaned towards his face and aimed for his right armpit. The tickling started, from his armpits down to the prisoner's feet.

The ten minutes that followed didn't really yield Philip's most secret ticklish body part, since he more or less squirmed like a worm the whole time, though it got really worse when Ben got down to his helpless soles. He stopped once in a while when he thought the boy was about to choke, but the respite was short, and another bout of tickling ensued.

Keith nudged Billy and pointed out discretely that Philip's face turning red wasn't the only physiological reaction to the torment he had to endure.

“Look,” he whispered to his friend's ear. They both refrained from giggling, wanting this moment to be serious and important. It did look important to Philip anyway.

As a newbie he felt good even though these guys acted mercilessly; they were actually taking very good care of him. He remembered his brothers trussing him up to a chair for hours without paying him a lot of attention, merely checking the ropes were not getting loose and gloating a bit about his helplessness.

After much squirming and twisting along with the customary muffled groans, Lewis stated research was inconclusive, but that the subject seemed tickle-sensitive nonetheless. A quick “Everyone on him!” triggered four more boys to pounce on the tightly restrained victim, all holding a feather in their hand. The torture got more intense yet. Billy signalled truces every two or three minutes; these were moments when Philip had the time to recover slightly, but also to dread the upcoming round.

Not to mention to stare at the good looks of his playmates; he was experiencing some very weird mixed feelings of intense well-being and anguished expectation of the next assault. After five or six rounds - -Philip wasn't able to count - - the “research subject” heard a voice coming through an endorphin-induced haze.

“Research has proved the subject capable of undergoing the treatment,” Lewis assessed in a doctor-like voice. “Now it is time to show him some other possible therapies.”

“But of course, doctor,” Billy grinned.

“Who will demonstrate?” Keith asked in an ingenuous tone, finding Lewis' role-play quite entertaining.

“Will you?” The self-claimed leader asked turning to the latest initiated recruits.

“Sure!” Philip's football team mates agreed.

“We're going to show you the classic kneeling hog-tie,” Keith started, “it's an effective way to subdue a reluctant patient. First of all, let's make sure the prisoner is relaxed enough. Billy?”

“Indeed, Dr Keith,” his friend agreed flashing a wide grin.

They gently massaged Philip's limbs for a while.

“Do you think the patient's apparent relaxed state is normal?” The pixyish blond asked mischievously.

“It's nothing unusual, Dr Keith. It's a normal physiological reaction.”

Philip blushed and smiled at the same time.

“Remain professional, lads, you wouldn't want to embarrass our patient, would you?” Lewis scolded.

“You're right. He seems relaxed enough, so let's untie his legs.”

Philip would have died with embarrassment in other circumstances, but he felt OK with these comments, that were not scornful in the least. He still let out a grunt to express some disapproval, but everyone in the room could hear it was half-hearted.

Straddling a thigh each, Keith and Billy unknotted the ropes at the knees, and untied them from the bed frame also, folding them in two neat coils. They used one to lash his ankles once they'd gotten down to freeing his lower legs from the spread-eagling ropes.

“As you may notice, at no time the patient is allowed to kick or buck,” Billy commented, enjoying the improvised medical theme.

They then retrieved the ankle ropes, using the five or six-foot lengths to lash three turns of the white cotton cord above his knees and at the top of his thighs. They then threaded the ends between his legs that they lifted slightly from the damp mattress.

They proceeded to their captive's arms, removing the restraints at the elbows, and then sitting on the upper arms before taking care of those at the wrists.

“Could you assist us in disposing of those ropes, Dr Ben?” Billy asked in a serious tone.

“I could indeed.” Ben playfully answered, untying and coiling the pieces of rope that had stretched Philip's arms as Keith and Billy went on with their demonstration.

They had gotten back to the bed's sides, keeping their grip on the prisoner's wrists. They looked at each other before plunging their eyes inside the prisoner's whose gaze was going from one boy to the other, a faint grunt asking what was next.

“Sit up, dear patient,” Keith explained.

Philip abode, feeling his arms being gathered behind his back with his wrists crossed. He felt the rope encircling them, three snug turns of the thick soft rope with the cinching and knotting that came next let him know he would not use his hands for any sign language purposes until someone would untie them.

Philip would have certainly not fought his captors, for he was revelling into what was happening to him, but he thought he couldn't have had he wanted to. He remembered letting his brothers tie him up, pretending he was resisting a little, but this time, Keith and Billy's moves were skilled and strangely smoothing. He went with the flow of the two considerate and skilled friends.

He was turned back on his stomach.

“Let's now restrain the patient's legs. Thoroughly.” Billy announced to his audience.

Keith grabbed Philip's ankles and lifted them in the air; Billy threaded the two ends of the rope lashed at the lower sides below his knees, leaving them dangle there.

“Time to fix the patient's ankles,” Billy said as he grabbed the ropes just under Philip's butt; he got them around the lashing restraining his ankles, Billy's nimble fingers pushing the thread on each side of the turns of rope.

“OK, bring his ankles down, Keith!”

Philip knew what was going to happen. He'd better not resist so it would move on to the next step faster. On top of it, there was this strange comfort in being handled by Billy and his blond friend. Keith pushed the legs down until the balls of Philip's feet made contact with the hem of his shorts.

Billy tied the two ends of the rope he had in hand in a solid square knot, making it impossible for Philip to unfold his legs. He then went back to the knees, gathering the two dangling threads and turning them around, both above and below; and with the remaining length he cinched and knotted the lashings that encircled Philip's knees; then there was just a tight little buckle tightly knotted.

“Good. We're going to get our little hog-tyee on the floor for the next step.” Billy said as he turned to the three boys watching.

He then grabbed Philip's knees and spun him around across the bed; Keith held the boy's shoulders and accompanied the circular motion until Philip's doubled-up legs were off the mattress. He then pushed gently as his friend lowered the knees to the floor. He then swiftly came to join Billy; each boy seized a shoulder to lift their captive and lower him onto the rug in a kneeling position.

Keith and Billy sat on the edge of the bed facing their “patient”, who noticed he was not the only one experiencing the normal expected reaction they'd been talking about. Not to mention the ministrations he had been given had cooled him down in the least. So much for making fun of them, with the ball of nylon crammed into his mouth. And his cheeky smile had very little chances to get caught by the two companions.

“Now time for your arms,” Billy said, grinning mischievously at his prisoner.

He found the middle of a twenty-five-foot-long rope and placed it behind Philip's neck. Both ends were passed under his armpits and gathered behind his back.

“Go get the rope, Keith.”

The blond boy kneeled behind Philip and caught both ends. The two partners in crime then threaded the long rope symmetrically from rear to front and back. Five minutes of weaving the long strands of rope around the arms, the chest and the torso made Philip's upper-body a neat package; coils and criss-crosses made it impossible for the prisoner to lean much, either back or forward. He was forced to remain kneeling by the intricate rope work the two friends had skilfully knitted his body in.

Though the position was far from being comfortable, Philip was awestruck at the mastery displayed by his friends. He knew already of their eagerness to win on a football field, but he was now aware of the talent they had for restraining someone. What could possibly come next? Were there more thrills in store to arouse this new feeling of trust and surrender in him?

17. A busy evening continues.

“What about his gag, Dr Keith? Do you think the patient is quiet enough?”

“I'd say Dr Fred did a good job. Call out for help or insult us, prisoner!”

“Mmmmblmm!” Philip desperately mumbled without any clarity as to what he meant, which did not prevent his new friends from trying to guess.

“Hey! That's not nice calling us such nasty names!” Lewis said before deviously adding, “We'll have to punish you.”

“Come on, Lewis! Cut him some slack!” Ben defended the bound and gagged recruit, “he's calling out for his mommy!”

They went on imagining what the well muffled shouts meant, Philip feigning despair as they made snider and snider remarks.

“Good gag, lads,” Billy commented. He fetched something in Ben's desk drawer.

“Just to add a smart touch.”

He sat back in front of Philip who looked at the black piece of material he held. He soon understood what it was for; Billy put his hands inside the tube-like piece of shiny stuff and pulled it over his head.

“Lewis made this lower face mask out of the Glidor swimsuits Ben got from the swimming team's sponsors.”

It was essentially the back panel of one of the black swimming briefs that had been sewn back at the hip seam and apparently carefully adapted with stitches here and there. It stretched tightly from just under his nose to his Adam's apple. A rubber loop dangled in front, which Billy pulled on top of his head, tightening the mask below his chin, with black nylon now pulled taut over the white tape.

Billy lightly brushed the lips covered by the many layers of various materials, sending a thrill through Philip's spine, overpowering him completely.

“Nice! Now you've got ten minutes to get out of this mess,” Lewis explained, “if you don't, we'll move on to another remedial therapy.

His five companions cheered Philip all along, encouraging him and giving him advice, but in the end it did no good. No twisting loosened the ropes, the knots were completely out of reach, and the soft white cotton network imprisoning him was much too thorough.

“Your time's up,” Lewis stated proudly as if he'd been the one responsible for this masterful display of skills. Being the next in line for the next round possibly made him this cheerful too. A knock on the door was heard as Lewis released the knots of the thread linking his wrists to his ankles, keeping Philip kneeling.

“Lads,” Travis said as he poked his head through the door, five pairs of eyes turning to him curiously, “dinner will be ready in half an hour. Everything all right so far?”

“Yes, thank you!” he heard from five merry mouths, the sixth one grunting an equally enthusiastic approval.

“Don't be late, then,” Travis said as he slowly closed the door.

“We won't,” Lewis piped, “I shall show you younsters how one can work fast. Therefore, Phil, you're going to help me demonstrate the 'pole tie'. Fred, Ben, I'll need your assistance.”

He turned to Keith and Billy; his grin conveyed the message he was taking up the challenge of being up to the level of their performance.

“This is a nice tie-up to cure any feistiness the patient may still be afflicted with,” he asserted.

To make his act different from his opponents', Lewis conducted the operation in silence. A few gestures, nods, and glances carried his instructions to Fred and Ben. It didn't take ten minutes before the task was properly performed. They had managed to release Philip from his previous bonds while getting him into others, so that he eventually stood against the bund bed's seven-foot high foot, still as carefully woven in a new web of white cotton rope.

“Done!” Lewis said, “Aren't you boys impressed?” he asked, turning to Billy and Keith.

“Uh, this looks O.K.,” Keith replied, torn between fairness, which meant admitting the rope work was good, and his competitive spirit, making it hard to admit to Lewis he'd done well.

“OK?” Fred said with his eyes widening, “This is masterful, just look at it: the symmetry's perfect, the rope stretches just as it should, the captive is thoroughly anchored to the pole...”

Lewis brushed off any remotely negative comment by pretending he hadn't heard anything. He stood face to face with Philip, looking straight into his eyes.

“The best assessment will be performed by the prisoner himself. Release yourself from this top-notch entrapment, my friend!” he ordered, cheekily winking at Philip whose “mmph!” was a reply to the taunt and the ambiguous non-verbal message.

“This Lewis loves acting all grown up,” Billy thought, “he's annoying indeed, but this is really excellent. Phil can barely move a tenth of an inch. All these coils of rope are just neatly laid just at the six best places to restrain him, and the final criss-crosses of rope look great. This tie-up is inescapable!”

“Do get out of this, dear patient! Erm, not much to improve on the gag, you lads did a good job,” he said to Keith and Billy, further annoying them with this unexpected display of fair play. He slightly pinched Philip's shoulder, with a gaze implying he was performing some cruel and unusual torture.

“MMmmph!!?”

The poor pledge only got a few laughs in return. As he tried to escape, Billy and Keith encouraged him whereas the three others were commenting on how hopeless this all was. This verbal joust stopped as the given ten minutes were up, Philip having achieved no significant improvement over his captive situation.

“Time for dinner!” Lewis announced. “Doctors Fred and Ben, will you prepare the patient so he comes with us to the dining room?”

The two henchmen came up to the prisoner and released him from the pole.

Once he was freed from the endless yards of rope, his arms still bound behind and a one-foot hobble limiting any excessive movement from his legs, the little troop set off to the prefects' quarters, where Lewis had first been informed of the creation of their club.

“Come in and have a seat,” Travis greeted them. A large bowl of steaming soup stood on the table that had been set for seven guests.

“Cool! Pumpkin soup,” Ben exclaimed.

“Yuck, nice there's ham and cheese also,” Lewis said looking at the rest of the food on the table.

“Your mom would be proud of you frowning upon the food that's being served to you, no doubt,” Billy moralized, taking the opportunity of picking on Lewis. He had been brought up to be a pleasant guest, and to decline the second helping, but not to refuse rudely anything that was on the table.

Fred and Ben sat Philip at one end of the table and proceeded to restrain him to his chair. Then they removed his gag. Meanwhile, the other boys helped the food and took their seats.

“So, Philip, how has the investigation gone so far?” Travis inquired.

“Fine, fine. My friends know how to tie a knot,” Phil conceded.

As everybody started chatting about the ceremony, Lewis saw to it that Phil ate, spoon-feeding him his dinner as he had his own.

“Keith and Billy's kneeling hogtie was good,” Lewis said.

“You did O.K. with your pole tie,” Billy admitted. These praises were sincere, but remained a bit half-hearted. There was still some issue between Lewis and the “newbies”, but they had to behave in front of Travis.

The meal was quickly eaten, in an overall cheerful and friendly atmosphere.

All of the boys would have traded this weekend against nothing in the world. When everybody was done with dessert --apples, Philip's having been crammed in his mouth by Lewis to everyone's delight until he helped him out-- Keith and Billy offered to do the dishes, which Travis gladly accepted. This was not only to act polite, but because they knew what came up next. Travis turned to Philip.

“For the last step, the recruit has to display his knots skills on a real subject. Who do you want for a model, Philip?”

Philip remained with his mouth slightly open, as if in shock of the news. He quickly recovered, though, and turned to the friend who'd fed him dinner. The corners of his mouth slightly curved upwards in an almost imperceptible feral grin.

“If Keith and Billy are cleaning up, I guess, uh, Lewis, I'll try my luck on you.”

“This has nothing to do with luck, it's all about skills,” he replied.

He slowly stood up and released the black-haired boy from his chair. The authoritative and know-all tone got a smile from the boys back at the sink as they looked at each other; but nobody said anything about Lewis' condescending words. Travis moved on to giving instructions:

“All right, Philip. Show us how you tie someone to a chair. Lewis, let's pretend you were knocked out. He's got two minutes before you struggle.”

Lewis sat on the chair that had hosted his now captor. He closed his eyes, pretending he was unconscious. Philip grabbed his waist from behind, making sure he was up against the back of the chair, and dragged his arms over the highest rung.

With one of the short pieces of rope at hand, he wrapped his wrists around, threading the cord around the lower rung before pulling it back between the wrists and cinching the existing loop tight. He then kneeled in front and quickly restrained his ankles in a similar manner.

“I might need some more rope later on,” he said as he grabbed a longer one that was on the table and wrapped Lewis' arms just below his shoulders.

“You'll have to go and get some,” Travis said, “and the two minutes are up, so you'd better be sure he won't escape.”

Lewis painstakingly lifted his eyelids, playing the part with heart.

“W... Where am I?”

Keith and Billy chuckled at the poor acting, whereas Ben and Fred looked admiringly at their leader, who was making so much effort into making Philip's initiation a success. They expected he'd be out of the ropes in no time.

“Well, well, well... It seems the little snoop is coming around,” Philip smirked, Billy amazed by his villain impersonation. From the football club, he never had seen this side of the new recruit. Philip grabbed a couple of paper towels from a pile in the middle of the table. Lewis, right on cue, said the expected line in an outraged tone.

“Untie me this minute, you filthy rogue, or elsmmmmphmmbllm!”

The cellulose ball crammed into his mouth muffled any further protests. Once a scarf cleave-gagged him, it was there to stay.

“I'm not done with you,” Philip said, after binding his knees together.

He rushed back to his room to gather the supplies that had been left behind and that he could use. His hands were full when he came back. Keith and Billy were done with the dishes, so everybody was commenting on Lewis' squirming and wriggling.

Philip drew near, an inquisitive look on his face. The ropes held good; he ran his fingers over them to check which ones had loosened. He just tightened those around the upper arms. He took some coils out of the lot he'd brought back; he made a thick belt at the waist, wrapped quite a few turns around his thighs and under the seat, and tied each elbow individually to the chair. A few shorter ones were used to link and reinforce those already there. An eventual plastering of the lower face with tape and the fitting of the Glidor mask completed the job.

“See if you can get out of that, Lou,” Philip said, “before the crocodiles are released and come to devour you. Then I'm sure you won't meddle with my business anymore. Mwahaha!” He played an excellent villain.

Travis started the timer on his watch.

“Come on, Lewis,” Keith said, “a king of the knots like you should get out of this in no time.”

Such comments were made throughout the ten minutes allocated to the escape attempt. They obviously infuriated the prisoner, who put all his might into trying. However, as Travis declared the ten minutes over, Lewis had only managed to loosen the rope around his left wrist a tad, and would have needed much more time to get it out of it.

“You may set him free, Philip,” Travis stated.

One by one, Philip untied the ropes, coiling them neatly as he went. He removed those tying his wrists last, leaving Lewis handle the gagging set-up himself.

“That was quite a tie-up,” the freed prisoner acknowledged, “uh, you passed the test as far as I'm concerned, Phil. What do you think, lads?”

“That you're a lousy escape artist?” Keith smirked, “No, seriously, Philip can tie knots.”

All the others approved, cheered up and greeted Philip, who had seldom experienced such bliss, and such a feeling of belonging.

“You passed the test with flying colours,” Lewis concluded, “and it's getting late, so you boys go to bed now. Curfew in twenty minutes. You'd better get some rest to be in shape tomorrow. You'll need to be.

All six boys walked back to their rooms, and the jokes and the promises of revenge fainted within minutes. Travis was glad to see that all lights were out and everything was silent long before the announced time. They all lay in their bed, thinking of what the next day would bring.

TBC
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Carnath
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Post by Carnath »

Awesome new story. I love these kind of teen gangs capturing each other ;)
The Brotherhood
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My Bondage Academia

If you want to support me and allow me to commission more illustration and write more story, you can donate to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/carnath_gid
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks, Chloroboy. More games in the following chapters...

18. A crazy night

The room Keith and Billy slept in would be theirs after the break. After putting on their pyjamas and slipping under the eiderdowns, they had talked for a little while, as they both were really glad to have moved to Saint Sebastian, and all the great fun it promised to deliver; but they had quickly fallen asleep, not willing to compromise the next day's adventures by antagonizing Travis. They had whispered their hopes and plans for the big day, and soon drifted off into slumber.

A couple hours later, the door slowly opened, and three figures tiptoed their way into their room, the dim light of the hall's night lights forcing them to be very cautious not to bump into anything if they wanted to achieve their goal without waking anybody up. Their hands were quite full of the required wares, and their plan had been carefully plotted. They were already one third successful, but they needed to get this rate up to one hundred percent. The ghostly figures eerily glided through the almost complete darkness towards Billy who was peacefully sleeping in the lower bed.

Half an hour later, Keith was jolted out of his slumber by three pairs of hands grabbing him. They were real flesh and blood, and didn't belong to supernatural creatures. Three headlamps were turned on, casting their dim light over the shape of the boy dreaming of victories at football and TuGs and basking in the glory along with Billy. From there on the three boys moved very fast. They threw the quilt away so as to have access to their target. They pinned him face down, with his ankles and wrists in a tight grip, and a hand covering his mouth with its counterpart clutching his long hair at the back of his head. The person handgagging him whispered his warning. His voice gave his identity away as much as his tone did: “And three down! Please do not give us any grief, we have once again proved our superiority over you lousy football players. Darn, is it your skin that's greasy or do you drool when you sleep?”

Keith twitched around, offended by the remark, but the grip tightened, and Lewis counted to three. Keith was lifted from the mattress, and lowered down in the bed below. It was still slightly warm from his previous user, but it was empty, which meant Billy had already been taken care of. Lewis and the two other boys, whom Keith imagined rightly were his goons Fred and Ben jumped over the bed sitting on his calves, his lower back, Lewis sitting in the tight space left between Keith's and the bedhead. He didn't release the pressure, though he knew there were very few chances his prisoner would call out for help. Lewis had to admit --though only to himself-- that the latest recruits were no wimps. Thinking of which, he didn't want to leave the blond boy's brothers in TuGs on their own for too long.

“OK, let's wrap up Blondie into a tight little bundle. His cronies could catch a cold waiting for us.”

There was a grunt from Keith, who wondered what they had done to Billy. He tried to break free again, but he was no match against three opponents. He'd have his revenge on these cowards later on.

They had to exert all of their skill and coordination as Keith didn't really submit and wait, but they were well trained, and knew how to handle the situation and their captive. So ten minutes later he was well trussed up, with the proverbial rings of rope at the ankles, knees, waist and shoulder, his hands tied palm to palm. A ball of cotton and a scarf silenced him too.

“We're going to take you now, so don't twitch around too much, or you might hurt yourself,” Ben's voice meekly advised. Once again, he was certainly forced to run Lewis' plan. Keith quickly understood why he was being told this, as he felt an upwards move. They had tied rope handles from the circles at his ankles, waist and shoulders, so they could carry him face down as some piece of luggage. Indeed wriggling and having one of them let go of the rope would certainly turn out badly for him. He had no taste for getting a broken nose, so he relaxed and this time decided to make it as easy as possible for his captors.

They carried him down the corridor, their back turned to Travis' room, and once on the landing, after having cautiously opened and closed the swing doors, which was no small feat with a long bundle in tow, they stood Keith up. The group no longer was on some wood floor, but on tiles that did not creak. Lewis took a key out of his pocket, and opened the door Keith knew was this of a large storage room for the cleaning staff. Bowing to Keith, and letting his arm swing to show him in, Lewis emphatically announced: “Make space for his Highness Cowboy the Umpteenth, King of Prisoners, Emperor of Captives, and Duke of Losers!”

Fred put a hand on his shoulder and the trussed up lad obediently hopped into the storeroom.

He could not see his fellow prisoners right away; fifteen feet away from the door, a heavy red curtain hung. Keith thought he could see it moving ever so slightly. It could be stirred by what or who was behind rather than by the little air moved by the door that was softly closed behind the little troop. Lewis stepped in front of Keith, whose motion was rather hampered by the thorough binding.

“A bunny rabbit, yes, why not, though I have other things in mind for you, my dear friend, things that will be much more in character. But for now, let me introduce to you the two other members of the cast.”

He went into a precious series of moves that had him whirling around, grabbing the curtain and pulling it off to reveal not only a trussed up Billy, as Keith expected, but another captive yet facing his captured friend.

It was difficult to identify him at first glance, for his face was hidden by what looked like a big horse head. Nevertheless, who else but Philip could be underneath the tight black and yellow footie kit? Billy had been stripped of his pyjamas' jacket, and he had been equipped with a dark blue satiny cap that bore pointed ears and horns.

Both boys were tied to some thick lead pipes that went from the floor to the ceiling. There were two rows of poles in all, five feet apart from each other, and Philip and Billy were face to face at the furthest end. This left four pipes to which Keith could be bound.

“My, my, Puck, you're unreformable! You had to turn our good Philip Bottom into a donkey. As if he couldn't make an ass of himself without any help,” Lewis gloated.

It clicked right away into Cowboy's head, as he joined the reproving grunts to Lewis's mockery, that these were some of the props used the year before for a staging of A Midsummer Night's Dream. So Billy was Puck and Philip was Nick Bottom. Considering Philip, Keith thought he was aptly named, and that it certainly was no coincidence that Lewis had gotten this idea.

“One good thing for our two actors is that they don't need to know their lines, do they?” Lewis remarked. A cross of white tape covered Billy's mouth, and Lewis moved next to him to examine the adhesive bandage.

He patted Billy's head gently, “Good little devil, you didn't try to remove it, you understood you wouldn't be able to call anyone anyway.” He turned to Cowboy whose eyes were blazing with anger. “Not to worry, my blond little friend, this is a makeshift gag, to remind these nice fellows that we caught them and that they have to abide to our rules. Not to say that making sure they do not talk to each other makes it less likely that they help each other to get free. I say less likely, because I must say we did a good job to start with, didn't we lads?” He turned to Fred and Ben who smiled approvingly.

“As we had to leave them on their own for a while, we kept safe, didn't we? We wouldn't want to break the rules, would we, Cowboy?”

Keith nodded, rather surprised at having been called by his name rather than by some derogatory nickname.

“So, what role should we give you in our little play? Let me think…” Lewis caressed his chin thoughtfully, and frowned as if he were racking his brains over a very complicated problem.

“Hmmptmf!” Keith said, but Lewis, who'd perfectly understood it meant “Knock it off!” looked quizzically at him, his wide doe eyes more innocent than ever.

“Humputtuf? I'm afraid there's no character with this name.”

“Oberon?” Ben suggested.

“Nah. Puck's Oberon's servant, isn't he? That wouldn't work with these two. Plus Oberon is a King; well, the King of Fairies, but what about having our straw-haired short friend play Titania? Queen of Fairies? Quite adequate if you ask me.”

The frustrated grunts accompanied the silly teenage sneers that followed the taunting. Of course, this sort of innuendo by Lewis was a perfect example of the pot calling the kettle black, but it was perfectly in character. It was even surprising that following the sneaky attack he had not called Cowboy a coward. He and Billy were getting used to his weird sense of humour, and Philip was catching up fast.

Actually, Titania was the only character they'd thought about, since it was the only costume there was at hand. Lewis had a very clear idea of what he wanted when they had gone to gather the costumes from the theatre's dressing room. Why Lewis would want to enhance his plan with fancy costumes, only he knew. It matched his taste for sophistication, though, and now it was clear it added to the humiliation of the newbies. Fred picked a long green silk tunic from a shelf, and soon Keith wore the garment, bare chest underneath, and he had joined his friends, next to Billy and facing Philip. The pole tie was thorough; there was just a little slack at the elbows, that he would exploit were they given an occasion to attempt escaping.

The fiendish trio led by Lewis, explaining they had to make sure they would remain very silent, went on applying their knowledge in the art of gagging. Well-stuffed mouths, tightly sealed lips were covered by tight silk scarves wrapping the lower faces inescapably. A small cushion was put behind Cowboy and Billy's heads, and the scarves were then tied once more behind the pole, preventing them from looking at each other. The donkey head was put back over Philip's head, so none of the three prisoners could look at another's face.

“Good, very good,” Lewis sniggered, “but not enough of a challenge yet… Let's give them a bit of a harder time, lads, we wouldn't want our regular Houdinis to get away too fast, would we?”

More rope was displayed, and Ben, Fred and Lewis each went to a prisoner. They did a few turns above the elbows with the middle of the rope, then cinched it together in a figure eight, before they pulled both ends over a pipe that ran just below the ceiling. The three captives wondered what was next, especially since their tormentors were strangely quiet. But as their right legs were freed, the left one being solidly tied back, and that their right ankle was grabbed and lifted, it all became painfully clear what was to happen: Billy's ankle was linked to Keith's elbows, Keith's to Philip's and Philip's to Billy. There was no slack in the ropes, so letting one's foot drop even a little put strain on the partner's elbows immediately.

“You're so well tied up that you could actually go back to sleep, but you see, our little assault aims at having you a bit tired tomorrow. I want to win the game, you see. So now you've really got to try to escape if you want to catch a little sleep before morning. You know me, I'm all for fair play, so from now on we aren't going to touch the ropes. One of us will stay to guard you, and we'll take turns. I'll take the first shift. Who's next?”

“It's me,” Ben said, less than enthusiastically. He saw this as a strange way to gain an advantage, since they wouldn't get a good night of sleep either. Lewis' plans had always been fun so far, so suggesting otherwise had been out of question.

Hence Fred and Ben withdrew. Lewis pulled a comfortable armchair in front of the two rows of poles, to keep a keen eye on his captives. He made conversation with his three guests, his oral skills allowing him to find the most disparaging taunts. Being prevented from replying to his ceaseless babble, all three boys focused on trying to escape. Keeping one's leg up indeed made it all the more difficult. But the subtle twitching and squirming reached its goal, and the various coils of rope were all yielding some slack, a little at the time. Lewis was reminding them that they would have to stay tied to their poles for at least the thirty-sixth time when Ben came to relieve his friend.

Ben sat in the armchair, with Lewis closing the door with a last whisper in which the words “pathetic” and “hopeless” were combined in yet a fresh ungracious manner. Ben was much less talkative, and he managed to find some sort of blanket after ten minutes, that he pulled up over himself. Being able to watch only from the corner of their eyes, Keith and Billy couldn't see how sleepy he looked when he came in. But his breathing soon betrayed the fact he had fallen asleep. So much for safety.

Billy suddenly felt his elbows pulled upwards. He groaned from the discomfort, and looked ahead; at least Philip could see his annoyed look, even though he could not respond. But soon he felt some slack in his elbows. Philip's ankle was out of the rope, and he saw some rope hanging down, as Philip had managed to extricate himself from the most crucial knots. Keith had picked up on this too, and he made sure to keep his ankle up not to hinder Philip's escape.

It took less than three minutes before Philip pulled off his donkey head. He didn't remove his gag, but went straight to Billy to untie his ankle so he could put his foot down. Philip and Billy then set on freeing Keith, and five minutes later, they removed their gags. Philip cast a glance to the form sleeping in the armchair.

“Shall we?” he asked with a mischievous smile.

“Heck, yes!” Cowboy said, coiling some rope back, and about to pounce on the unknowing Ben.

“Hold on, we're not going to fall as low as Lewis. There are better ways to get even. Revenge is a dish best eaten cold. Let's go to bed, we need to be in good shape tomorrow.” They silently went outside and back into the dorm.

So it was only at four thirty, when Fred came to replace Ben, that the escape was noticed. They thought it best not to wake Lewis up, since he'd asked that they do so to set the prisoners free to take a picture, not to see they'd fled away. And who knew what he would have them do?

19. A morning of fun

“Today you're going to be spies for two rival corporations, lads. A new device has been designed that could change the world as we know it. This water-fuelled engine could solve all energy problems on earth, and the first company to market it will thrive for decades. The plans were hidden in Saint Sebastian house by the inventor. It consists in five separate sheets that need to be gathered to build a prototype.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lewis sniggered.

Travis pretended he had not been interrupted. He looked at the six contestants sitting in a circle in front of him in the TV room they'd started their little ceremony the evening before. All in their football uniform, their rucksacks orderly laid next to them, ready for the first big battle.

“You were hired as 'consultants' by the two biggest corporations in the world, Microtough and Commander Electric. It is of vital importance that they acquire the machine first. You know you've got to get the plans before other 'consultants' to get the reward from the company. You may bring others under control by pulling out the scarf stuck in their waistband. Once your scarf is taken, you 'faint' for thirty seconds. No cheating on this. The person who gets captured counts up to thirty before he moves or does anything. There's no actual sanctuary until you report to me with all five sheets. My room is the transmitting room, once at least one guy comes in with the five papers, the game's over. The whole team doesn't have to report, but extra points will be given if you do. Any questions?”

“Uh, yes… Can we go anywhere in and out of the building?”

Billy wanted to make sure the strategy he'd talked about with his friends the night before would be fair play.

“No place in the building is out of bounds as long as a door is not locked. No going outside, though, limits have to be set for a first game. Of course, no hitting or kicking, you've got to use your wits, but otherwise, you may do whatever you want. Our 'Geneva Convention' rules that prisoners should be well tended, so no one should suffocate or bleed, but I guess that's it for rules.” Travis added with a faint smile.

The morning had been busy. Breakfast in the prefects' quarters had been quiet; meaningful looks were exchanged but no mention of the previous night events had been made. Keith expected some innuendo from Lewis, who was unexpectedly cheerful and pleasant. This made it yet more suspicious. Each boy had a rucksack with their individual lunch, six coils of rope, and some sort of first aid kit: gauze, cotton wool, and surgical tape. Plus a few scarves just in case.

“Everybody ready? The Microtough team is Billy, Cowboy and Benedict, the Commander Electric Crew is Lewis, Fred and Philip.”

“He! He! They're not with Microtough, they're just Microp…” Lewis tentatively taunted.

“Come on, Lewis!” Travis rebuked him. “Bear with me until I'm done. You have fifteen minutes to discuss a strategy. The game starts when the bell rings.”

Billy looked at Philip. He was surprised at the teams, for he had thought it would be the newbies against Lewis' crew. They had discussed The Plan with Philip the night before. A stare in his direction and an appropriate facial expression got the question of the possible betrayal across. Philip made sure no one was looking, and made the sign with his thumb and index finger into an O, and mouthed the words “No worries, mate.” Now he'd have to trust Ben not to defect to the other side.

“OK, lads, you have until dusk to complete the mission. If no team manages to find all five parts of the plan, I'll count five points per piece you have, plus three points per prisoner if you've made any!”

“Let's go my team,” Lewis said as he stood up, “we don't really need all this time to establish plans ensuring a victory, but the faster we crush our opponents, the better.” Billy, Benedict and Keith just gave Lewis some mean looks. He could brag all he wanted, they would have him pay for such arrogance. They knew Lewis well enough; Billy grinned inwardly thinking of his face if they could get his plan to work. The “Microtough” team joined to set a course of action. Keith and Ben turned to Billy, waiting for ideas. “You heard how points would be counted? So, what really matters at first is to...”

Travis left the room and went back upstairs, looking at the timer on his watch to make sure he'd ring the bell in time.

Fred followed Lewis' instructions, and as the bell rang, the team split in search of the plans. He was to go back to the TV room, as they all assumed that was one place where Travis would have hidden one; Lewis was to investigate the dorm, and Philip the second floor classrooms. There had been little discussion about splitting up; if it was more dangerous, it could ensure a quicker win by fulfilling the mission faster. Once they'd have the papers, they'd take care of the other team.

The halls were eerily silent, and Fred put one foot before the other slowly but steadily, being perfectly silent himself. He reached the door to the TV room, and pushed it ajar; he stuck his head inside. The coast was clear so he entered and started searching. After five minutes, he found a plan inside the DVD sleeve of the movie they had watched the day before. That was an easy one. He put it in his rucksack and headed back upstairs, where they were supposed to meet in the second floor bathroom twenty minutes after the split.

He was going for the doorknob when he saw it turn. He barely had time to throw himself inside a little offset two feet left of the door. He was invisible from someone who wouldn't step in completely inside. Holding his breath, he heard steps muffled by the carpet. Benedict got within his vision range, turning his back to him. A leap and a good aim at the scarf trailing from the shorts waistline, and the deal was made. “Got you!” he whispered to his friend, who reluctantly “fainted”, and lay face down on the floor.

Fred removed Ben's rucksack from his shoulders and got some ropes out. No need to waste his own supplies. He bound his hands behind his back and stuffed a balled up scarf in his mouth before plastering a couple strips of tape to seal his lips. Having counted aloud as he proceeded, both boys knew that Ben was to regain his senses.

“And now we need to put you away for good,” he said as he helped Ben to stand up. He led him towards a closet at the right hand side of the room despite a feeble attempt at resisting, grabbing a chair on the way. He undertook to bind him to it inside the closet, with swift and precise gestures. Once Ben was closely united to the piece of furniture, he finished the job by tying a scarf over his taped mouth, “So you can't spit it out, my friend.” He patted him on his head. “Stay here, I'll be back soon, once we've found the plans and we've turned your little friends into roasts!”

He closed the door, plunging Ben into darkness. Checking his watch, he saw he was late already for the appointment, so he rushed out the door, much less cautiously than he had entered.

Fred saw the two figures from the corner of his eye, but it was too late: he had stepped outside the room with Billy and Cowboy on each side, flattened against the wall, their rucksacks in one hand, and Keith had already snatched his tail away. There was a quiet “Darn!”, but the rules meant he could not warn his friends that he'd been caught, so he got on his knees and lay down. Hands tied behind his back, a quick gagging, and there were still fifteen seconds to go, so Cowboy and Billy caught Fred under his armpits and dragged him back inside the TV room.

“Where did you hide Ben, you bastard!” Cowboy asked. Billy hushed him. “As if he'll answer, the yellow-livered fiend... And I think I know...”

He went to the closet, which was the only possible hideout in the room; as he approached some faint sounds could be heard, and they definitely were of the mmphing kind. Billy opened the door triumphantly, revealing a squirming Ben.

Ten minutes later, Fred had taken the place of his friend. The three accomplices had managed a very well coordinated job, the former prisoner entertaining his liberators with his ideas of what he would do to Fred on their return, with of course the rest of the team well trussed-up. Fred was less than thrilled by the idea of getting his butt warmed up by a masterly spanking, and he wasn't sure Ben bluffed.

“We'll see to this in time, Ben,” Billy laughed, “but for now we have to win. We've got two plans with the one Cowboy found in the ancient Greek vase in the entrance hall and Fred's. Three more to go, but we've got to be careful; I'd be surprised if our prisoner hasn't gone missing already.”

“We gotta stick to your first idea, Billy, and go for the prisoners. Once we've got all three of them, it'll be easy to search the House.”

“Right Cowboy, d'you think we should torture Fred to find out where his mates are?” Ben proposed with a big grin on his face.

“Nah,” Billy replied, “it would be a waste of time, and he could lie, and if they're up on something, they'll have moved anyway. You'll have your fun when we win. For now we'll do as we did first, you'll scout the place, Ben. We found out they'd split, so we might stick closer, so they won't have time to tie you up if they catch you. Let's go.”

Meanwhile, in the second floor bathroom, decisions were being made.

“This damn fool must have gotten caught,” Lewis pondered, “so it's time for Plan B.”

Philip looked at him intently, mesmerized by the feral grin that brightened up Lewis' handsome face.

“We need to be extra careful and display the ancestral sense of strategy the Fatbinds possess.”

Philip didn't ask how he would act accordingly, not being a Fatbind; yet he wondered.

“We have to design a cunning ruse to catch them little blighters. We've got one of these bloody sheets only: I rightfully assumed Travis would hide one behind the Saint Sebastian painting at the entrance of the dorm, I mean, the arrows pointed to the good direction, didn't they? We may safely assume our opponents got at least one too. We also still have plenty of time, so we can't lose. Here's how we're going to manage...”

Ben was dutifully playing his pilot fish role. Tiptoeing his way along the hall on the second floor, he moved forward, ears and eyes wide-open to detect any unfriendly presence. He reached the landing, after checking no one was ambushed behind the swing door; as he had gone across the whole floor without any unpleasant encounter, he was now to proceed to the dorm. He started climbing the steps, unaware that he no longer had protectors tailing him...

It had all gone very quick. As he turned a corner, Keith had felt a hand clamping over his mouth and pulling him backwards, another one ripping his scarf from his shorts. “Sweet dreams, my prince,” the mocking voice of Lewis had hissed in his ear almost inaudibly. He was then dragged inside a classroom, where Philip was waiting for his team leader.

Lewis maintained the handgag while Philip, sitting on his thighs, took care of binding wrists and ankles. He was barely done when the thirty seconds were over. Keith started mewing inside his captor's hand, in the hope that Billy, who was a few feet ahead of him, would hear he had gotten caught.

“Our Cowboy is being quite the rebel, Phil! Do him a favour, and tie the knots tight, he could hurt himself if he twists around too much.”

“No worries, Lewis, we'll restrain him properly, we wouldn't want anything nasty happening to him.”

And indeed Phil handled a thorough trussing up, while Lewis held his head, his mouth well shut and any call out for help reduced to some desperately subdued mewing.

They then sat him up, Lewis still holding his grip.

“I'll need a hand silencing the little scoundrel; he's going to try yelling for help.”

Keith indeed had half a second to shout “Bil…” at the top of his lungs as Lewis removed his hand. Then he realized that getting Billy to come would be tantamount to having him rush into the lion's den. It was too late for regrets anyway, and he could only hope that Phil's swift move to cram a ball of material inside his mouth had been enough to make his yelling go unnoticed. But still, steps of someone running outside the door were heard.

“Billy!” Phil yelled, in a very good impersonation of Cowboy's husky voice, which had started cracking a few months previous. Lewis and Keith turned to Philip, who had never demonstrated this particular talent. Philip smirked, and both he and Lewis were already standing when the door flung open.

Billy boldly entered the room, ready to take on both foes at a time. The three fighters froze, feet apart, knees bent, arms wide open, as if defending the ground in a basket ball game.

“Two against one, Billy Boy, but watch out, Phil, his special friend is our prisoner; this could make our brave Billy much more motivated!”

Lewis turned towards his own teammate and winked, and this split instant of inattention was the only hope Billy had to try his chance. He dove towards them, aiming at the scarves that were hanging down between their legs just above knees height. His left hand caught Philip's scarf and he felt it coming, but Lewis' slipped out of his grip.

He was face down on the floor, and Philip kneeled down next to him, knocked out, as Lewis had already pounced on him and caught the scarf that had been jeopardized by the audacious move.

“Sorry, but you're no match for any of us, least of all two!”

Lewis was already at work, gathering Billy's wrists behind his back. Billy felt something was wrong, somehow, and voiced his concern: “Your scarf didn't come off, are you sure that...”

“Hush! You've fainted, do you remember?”

This prompted Lewis into gagging him following the common procedure. His elbows were now being looped with rope. And the moment he “came to his senses” coincided with Philip's recovering, and his giving a hand to Lewis. So he soon shared Cowboy's fate.

“Now is time to make a decision, Phil. Shall we go and free Fred, or manage to capture the last of our young Microstuff miscreants.” The need for advice was purely rhetorical, as Lewis went on elaborating on his scheme. “I'd say that Ben is the chivalric kind, and that he would certainly rush to rescue his friends in distress... So, will you please, Phil?”

A grin lightened the latest recruit's face. “Indeed Sir, I will…”

Ben knew the call came from the second floor. If Cowboy needed him, it meant another one of the Commander Electric team had been captured, and the idea of gloating over a helpless Lewis or of handling a powerless Philip warmed him up. As he got into the main second floor hall, he found none of the expected frantic activity following one of his fellow fighters' feats. He moved forward with all his senses wide-awake, asking in nothing more than a whisper: “Cowboy? Billy?”

He had passed the bathroom door when he heard it being slammed open. He didn't linger on to find out who it was and sprinted forward, only to fall, twenty feet further, into the tight embrace of Philip who had stepped from a dark recess.

His arms were locked to his sides by a grip that he could not fight, and then he felt the soft rubbing of his scarf being dragged out of his shorts. He quit struggling, as the rules required.

“I'd never have thought this would be this easy! All three of these Microjerks! We've won, let's get him together with his friends.” They kept him standing as they imprisoned his arms behind his back with ropes, then marched him into the classroom, on the floor of which Keith and Billy were writhing, sitting back to back.

“It seems our Cowboy and his cow were making an attempt at escape,” Lewis commented as he approached the pair. “And they might even have been successful had we not come back in time.”

Keith's left hand appeared from behind his back, but such impetus was cooled down by Lewis' cautious approach who grabbed the fist with two hands and went into what Keith had to admit was a rather well done arm bar. He grunted in pain as he ended up facing Billy, his head touching his knees, and Lewis looping his wrists together in rope again. Then Billy's bonds were checked out and tightened since he was on the verge of freeing himself also.

Ten minutes later, the three Microtough consultants were properly bound and gagged, rather tightly tied to chairs.

“I'll finish the job, Phil, go get Fred, he must be somewhere between the TV room and here.”

“Yes, General!”

Billy could not help giggling under the various layers that composed his gag, which drew a scornful look from Lewis. Philip left, and Lewis went back to his charges, having pulled a roll of duct tape from his own rucksack.

“I don't take in too kindly at being mocked by losers, and we'll see who gets the last laugh. Let's make these appendages of yours helpless to start with,” he said as he wrapped their hands with the grey sticky stuff. He then reinforced the ropes at the ankles, knees and elbows with tape. This time, escape would take much longer, if it were possible at all. “This is all settled, now, victory is ours.”

Fred and Philip entered upon this triumphant statement. Fred beamed at the sight. He focused on Ben. “I wonder who's in for a masterly spanking, now?”

20. A suspenseful afternoon

A gale of mirth erupted, the three stooges being all too glad to be done and successful.

“Let's count the sheets we got. I found one myself, Travis had put it behind the Saint Sebastian painting in the dorm; did you find one too, Fred?”

“Yes, it was in the DVD case of the picture we watched yesterday; but they stole it from me when they caught me. They had another one too. Have you searched their rucksacks yet?”

“Not thoroughly, we just grabbed a few of the needed supplies to restrain them.”

The bags were grabbed and investigated again, and Fred let out a successful “I found one!” He looked at the piece of paper he'd extracted from his friend's bag, and his smile disappeared. “This is not the one I found in the TV room.”

Ben felt awful at having allowed them to get the plan so easily. He'd been so happy to spot it behind a tapestry depicting a Biblical scene on the top landing, with merely a millimetre of paper sticking out.

“I'm positive they put mine in Cowboy's backpack when they took it. Maybe they hid them on themselves.”

Some patting went on to make sure it was not secured underneath their jerseys.

“Maybe they put it in their underwear?” Philip suggested.

“Knowing the disgusting habits of these filthy scoundrels, it wouldn't be much of a surprise,” Lewis sniggered as he went on checking whether the shorts contained the plans, which drew some protests from the prisoners.

“Mmmmblnndpfffvmt!”

“I doubt you're in a position to call me a “dirty pervert”, my cattle guarding blond friend. But I must say this is an interesting display of bravery, or should I say bravado? For if you don't have the plans here, it means you concealed them somewhere else, and we'll have to torture this hideout out of you.”

His face had assumed the most devious expression Lewis was capable of, but all of a sudden he turned into the mild benevolent little angel, the face he fooled teachers with when he didn't have his homework ready to be handed out and made the most extravagant excuses that they (almost) always bought.

“But we wouldn't want to inflict incomparable pain to our little band of thugs on an empty stomach, would we, hey, lads? Let's have lunch, it's noon already.”

The lunches were taken out of the rucksacks and sandwiches and crisps were drained down heartily, with taunts and rejoicing for the easy victory. Being done with what he had packed, Lewis grabbed Billy's backpack and removed the food it contained. He sniffed the sandwich.

“Chicken, tomatoes, pickles, and a hint of marmite. Some people find it gross, but I must confess I like it myself. I'd say the cheese is Stilton.” Billy was not exactly impressed by Lewis' olfactory examination, since they'd prepared their sandwiches at the same time and next to each other. But his contemptuous retort was lost in the wadding of the gag.

“Billy, my friend, I know you're a sensible boy. You're not brash as young Cowboy here, and you're someone who'd accept defeat if confronted to it. The unpleasant situation you and your friends are facing can stop very quickly, if you let us know where the plans are. Are you willing to talk?”

An energetic shaking of the head and some muffled insult were the reply.

“I'll take it you mean no.”

Billy nodded, never letting his eyes leave Lewis' intent stare. His captor grabbed his chin between his thumb and index finger.

“That's too bad, for how would one want to eat with a gag in his mouth?” He took a bite, then turned to his henchmen, “If you're still hungry, soldiers, there's more food to be eaten. Let the spoils go to the victors!”

The three captives stoically took in the fact that they would have no lunch.

“No protest? No arguing? No funny and entertainingly annoyed grunts? The losers are playing it hero-style, lads!”

There was some laughter, followed by the chewing noises and appreciative comments of the three boys leisurely enjoying every bite of their captured enemies' lunches.

The last crumb of food having eventually been swallowed, Lewis went on designing tactics for the afternoon.

“We have two of the five pieces, and our sneaky opponents hid two others. This means there's one final plan to be found. So, what should we start with? Finding the remaining plan or extorting the location of those that they managed to put away?”

“Actually,” Philip said, “if we keep the other team captive until dusk, we win anyway.”

“Yes,” Fred added with a meaningful grin towards Ben, “there are lots of fun things we could do to our prisoners until then...”

“Indeed, my friends, indeed, but we cannot satisfy ourselves with a half-win. I'd say that crossing the threshold to Travis' office with the five sheets AND three prisoners in tow would be the ultimate achievement. And the sooner, the better.” He paused, taking a concerned expression. “Of course, when a cigar and a swig of brandy cannot follow a meal, a substitute can be obtained by having a pleasant session of torture. And who knows, maybe we'll even get our tough customers to talk a little. Don't we need to loosen up a bit after such an eventful morning, crowned by such a pleasant outcome? Let's get the scumbags ready.”

They took care of Keith and Billy, leaving Ben on his chair for the time being. The two friends ended up tied up back to back, sitting over a small stool. Their elbows got intertwined, with their hands bound in front of them. More rope held them at the shoulders, and one long piece of rope was looped around Billy's wrists, taken above their shoulders, tied around Keith's wrists, down between his thighs and back up between Billy's to be wrapped again around his wrists. The two threads were then used to link the rope to the one at their shoulders so it could not slip easily. Lewis frowned upon Philip kneeling down to tie their ankles together.

“Huh, how are we going to tickle their feet if they're bound like this at the ankles?”

“Excuse me, but you had talked about torture, not tickle torture, so let me finish this and I'll show you.”

It was unpleasant having a subordinate not follow guidelines; at the same time, a good subordinate could be taking welcome initiatives also. Once their ankles were tied together, Philip finished his job by wrapping ropes high on the thighs, and threading them underneath the seat to prevent Keith and Billy from standing. He then blindfolded them.

“My brothers are kind of sadistic, so I've had to learn to endure pain. I'd say Billy's got the information we need; Billy, last chance, are you willing to tell us where you hid the plans?”

A head shaking let him know it wasn't the case. Billy wondered what was about to happen. Lewis, to show he was involved, repeated the question. He had seen where this was heading, with Philip moving towards Keith.

“He's being stubborn, Phil, you should get started on Cowboy.”

Philip grabbed a wick of thin hair at the temple and pulled on it, eliciting a grunt. He then pulled slightly harder, which got Keith to twitch a bit, as a low moan filled the room. Billy could feel the vibrations course through his body, and he felt awful. What the heck were they doing to Cowboy?

Lewis moved closer, within reach of Keith's other temple. He grabbed the hair and yanked it really hard for a split second. The muffled scream came more from surprise than from pain, but Billy now felt all queasy, wondering whether the game was not going totally wrong.

“Going to let Cowboy suffer, Billy? We're only at level one, and if we get to ten, well, he might faint for good...”

Keith shook his head no, so his hair brushed against Billy's who understood the message, and also shook his head accordingly. They'd stand whatever evil tortures would be performed on them.

Lewis didn't feel too good as they kept on trying to get their blond hostage to grunt and squirm for another ten minutes, which put Billy in a dilemma. He’d rather spill the beans and have the opponents win than having Cowboy suffer. To Lewis also it was clear: taunting a bound and gagged captive was fun; inflicting pain was a whole different matter.

“Maybe you should stop for a while, Phil, we're not supposed to draw blood, and this most interesting ancient Asian technique you're using will eventually get us to this most unpleasant point.”

Philip looked puzzled: he was just using the technique his brothers used to get him to tell them where he'd hidden their shoes overnight. That usually was the last way they used. Confessing too early on induced being called a wimp for days on end afterwards.

“Should we move on to Ben?” Fred asked eagerly.

Lewis knew that Fred had some uncanny interest in “taking care” of Ben, and keeping the troops' morale high was paramount to the success of the mission.

“Yes. You guys may handle the little weasel, I'll seek the remaining plan, and I bet that sweet and brave Billy must have made a lousy job at hiding the papers, so I'll be back with all three missing sheets in a jiffy.”

Philip didn’t like the idea of having his new friend away from him already: “I'll come with you Lewis. We'll be more efficient, and Fred can take care of the prisoners by himself, since we've tied them up so well.”

Billy was glad to hear Lewis accepting and Fred approving; having the unsuspected devious torturer move away from poor Cowboy was a temporary relief, and it got the prospect of losing to disappear momentarily. He heard the door closing behind the two villains. Fred didn't waste time into turning to Ben. The snide comments and the various noises allowed Keith and Billy to understand Ben was being released from his chair, only to be brought to a nearby table. All this time, they twitched a bit, feeling the ropes slacken. It had been an utterly stupid move from Lewis not to use duct tape as previously, and his leaving so fast certainly amounted to a mistake.

Knowing knots of the rope linking their bound hands were somewhere around Keith's shoulders, Billy lowered his hands as much as he could. He didn't dare grunt, in case Fred would hear them, for it seemed he was quite busy with Ben. But he knew Cowboy would get the clue, and felt the vibrations through the rope emitted by fingers rubbing and searching the rope. Then it stopped, but Billy faintly heard the sound of a knot being unfastened. Then the whole rope loosened. The knot was undone. Twitching a bit, the rope just below their shoulders slipped upwards and soon no longer held anything. They both lowered their blindfolds ever so cautiously, so they could peek at what was going on. By now, Fred his back to them, was engrossed into preparing Ben for a “masterly spanking” by tying him face down to the table's length, feet tied to the table's, butt sticking up, and repeating the various ideas his captive had proffered in the morning, pointing out how much fun it was to have the tables turned around on his friend.

Keith was first to get his hands out of ropes; he slowly entangled his arms from Billy's and bent down to release the rope linking their ankles. His roped legs didn't prevent him to jump to his feet, and a single leap got him behind Fred, and in possession of the treasured scarf. There was a soft “Damn!” uttered, and Fred fell forward, lying down over the bound Ben. Billy had joined Keith, hands and feet still bound, but he grabbed Fred's wrists so Keith could bind them. They moved on to gagging him with the scarf they'd grabbed. Following the adrenalin rush caused by their escape, they had not counted up to thirty, but it was surprising they had time to tape his mouth and tie his ankles and elbows before he “woke up”. He must have counted to thirty really slow.

“Mmmrmmmmpt!” Keith said, winking at Billy, who had had the same “Get a room you two!” comment come to mind. They both chuckled in their thick gags. Keith untied Billy's hands, and they peeled off the tape, spitting out the soggy wads with a sigh of relief.

“Damn, this was some serious gagging!” Keith said. “Let's get Ben free and scram.”

Ben looked only half-happy of having been saved from what was turning into a fabled masterly spanking, nevertheless the idea of getting some payback on Lewis and friends cheered him up. After having stuffed the tangled ropes and all of the gear lying around in the rucksacks, they framed Fred and dragged him outside the room, once Keith had stuck his head out to be certain the treasure hunters were not around.

“Where should we go?” he asked.

“Follow me,” Billy replied, walking only two doors away. He turned towards the trio, and looked at them. He then stuck his hand inside his shorts and fumbled around.

“Hey, you're not going to flash in front of everybody?” a concerned Keith asked.

“Nah,” Billy said as he triumphantly withdrew his hand, holding a key.

“Tah-dah! Lewis's pass, the one that allowed him to imprison us last night in the storage room. Actually, I'm glad he didn't realize I'd pinched it after we broke free.”

“You went into our room!?” Ben said, “If he’d found out, he'd have really tortured you guys, then.”

“Let's get in,” Billy ordered, pointing to the prisoner. There was a short corridor, and another thickly matted door that wasn't locked. Then they entered a meeting room meant to host twenty people at the most.

“We’re safe here, guys, as you need the key to open the latch on the door outside. Plus even if Fred squealed like a stuck pig he most likely wouldn’t be heard.”

Fred frowned and shivered, wondering what would happen with three enemies and no hope for rescue. Billy chuckled.

“I see fear in your eyes, Fred,” Keith took over, “but I bet that Billy has got other plans in mind than us having our way with you.”

“Really?” enquired a slightly disappointed Ben.

“At least at the moment,” the pixyish blond grinned.

“I think we're all as hell-bent on having Lewis lose, even more than winning ourselves, but of course we'll win! I think I might have some idea of where to look for the last plan, if our elite platoon hasn't found it yet. But it's been only half an hour, and if they seek it at random, they might not find it in time anyway. Just one thing, Ben, where did you find your piece of the plans?”

“Behind the tapestry at the top of the stairs in the west wing.”

Billy beamed as he turned to Keith.

“And what's on this tapestry, Cowboy?”

It all clicked in Keith's mind.

“A poor reproduction of a Caravaggio painting depicting a scene from the Bible! I think I see a pattern.”

“Exactly. We'll go together, so we'd better tie and tape down our friend Fred so he's not tempted into following us. What do you think of this?” he asked, pointing at a seven-foot high coat rack in the corner.

“Perfect, let's get to work...”

They were really getting good at teamwork, for they made a really good job trussing up the poor Fred to the thin metal pole, first with ropes, then reinforcing the mesh of rope with tape in strategic places. Keith then untied the scarf holding the tape and the muffling wad in, and removed the gag.

“No need to suffocate you.”

“Thanks,” a truly grateful Fred admitted.

“You're welcome, but you still need ‘a makeshift gag, to remind a nice fellow that we caught him and that he has to abide to our rules’, is this how your so-called leader said last night? Ben, will you?”

Ben approached with a wide rectangle of glimmering white surgical tape, that he smoothed lengthily over his friend's lower face.

“OK, people, we're ready to kick some butt, and having a superiority in numbers, muscles and brains, this will be a cinch!” Keith roared.

“Yes, we'll win, but let's not underestimate our opponents, Cowboy, you see where it lead Lewis,” Billy pondered.

They went out, leaving Fred behind, who squirmed a bit before he understood he'd better wait to be freed by whomever anyway.

They heard Lewis and Philip before they saw them.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, don't be daft. It's a piece of paper, so why would Travis hide it in a flush tank?”

“He said we were looking for the plans of a water engine, and a flush tank is full of water, so I thought...”

“Please, just leave the thinking to me, my friend.”

Keith and Billy smiled, as Ben rolled his eyes.

Lewis went on: “I found a plan behind a painting, so the others should be behind paintings, shouldn't they? I'll finish the entrance hall, so go investigate the south wing gallery.”

Uh oh, the little trio thought. This was where they were standing, so Philip would be heading their way. They didn't need to utter a word, though, as Ben crouched behind a large wooden chest, and Keith and Billy found shelter behind the long hanging curtains opposite of each other. The dim squeak of sneakers over the tiles came closer. Keith felt the motion of the curtain moving as Philip passed him, totally unaware of the threat. The first hint he got from the presence of a foe was the scarf being pulled away, a split second before a hand was clamped over his mouth. Then three pairs of hands worked on quickly, and as he'd been rendered helpless and mute, at least for a solid ten minutes, the three assailants left him hogtied on the cold floor.

Keith softly opened the door to the first floor bathroom, and pulled six paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink. He handed two to each of his allies, who looked at him quizzically. He lay the ones he had on the floor and stepped on them; he started gliding towards the corner, without making the least noise.

Impressed by the clever trick, Ben and Billy followed him. Peeking behind the corner, Keith got a full view of the entrance hall. Lewis was at the very end, which was a solid hundred feet away. He turned to his friends and signed and mouthed what he'd seen. Then he saw Billy concentrating, taking his breath and...

“Lewis, I found it!”

Billy's impersonation of Philip's voice wasn't as good as the one Philip himself had made of Keith's. But with the hall reverberating, and the confidence Lewis had in having his opponents out of the way, it worked nonetheless.

Lewis turned on his heel and rushed towards the south wing. As he turned into the gallery, he heard some mumbling, and saw three black and yellow figures standing ten feet away. He stopped as he could, the rubber of his sneakers screeching over the tile, and in a rather agile motion spun around to resume his running towards where he came from. Keith had been the quickest to realize Lewis had spotted them, and had burst out into a martial “Ah Yah!” as he went into chase mode.

Halfway through the hall, as they reached the plush wool carpet that covered the middle of the hall, he went for the Rugby Tackle. Having gained speed over his target, and being almost at his side, he dove, his arms wide open, aiming for the waist. From there, letting himself fall to the floor, he slid his arms along Lewis’ legs, solidly grabbing the scarf at the same time.

Lewis put his hands in front to break his fall, as he was cut in his run. He had barely touched the floor, though, that he twisted and squirmed to stand up again. Keith was a bit dazed by the speedy action, but he hung with both hands on to the scarf, that weirdly pulled ahead. Then Lewis managed to stand up and run.

“Lewis!” Billy bellowed, “You're out, Cowboy got your scarf.” Lewis froze, and turned around. Keith was standing up, waving his trophy high in the air. Here was the scarf, at the end of which a pair of satiny shorts glimmered. Lewis looked at the other team ruefully; not only had he been caught, but he was standing in just his underwear.

The two prisoners were tightly secured, so the Microtough team marched them upstairs to join Fred. Lewis had been hobbled at knees and ankles, some foul play being possible. Billy bawled Lewis out on cheating, while Keith was still toying around with the shorts, by tugging on the scarf which was sewn to the shorts waistline. Using it like a yoyo, he managed to have the shorts taking a life of their own, like a puppet. He was even making them talk.

“We're Lewis shorts, and we have to stand his stinky self, but we make friends with his underwear, which is always the finest, he wouldn’t wear the regulatory Glidor ones, no, he’s too good for them! We're glad Lewis's not too well endowed, so our front seam doesn't risk to be torn off...”

Ben laughed out loud, as Lewis himself was mortified. He had victory at hand, and now, unless Fred had escaped and managed to trick three people at a time, he had lost. And his fine silk briefs had been made fun of, because of a all so subtle hint of trim satin lacing, which he had not asked for, but that's how these were made. And Keith had not failed to call him a sissy. And kept making fun of his manhood. And his little adjustment with the rules had been discovered. So he was, to say the least, quite miffed.

As they reached the corridor to the room where Fred was kept, Billy stopped. He took the key he'd now put away in his back pocket and opened a closet. He took two pieces of paper out.

“The odds for finding them were nonexistent, Lewis. Not without YOUR key.”

“Mmmmpllmtrghmmph!” Lewis roared, now very mad at Billy.

“Cheating? Not that I know of, the rules were ‘any door that's unlocked’, and I just unlocked it. And if you want, you may complain to Travis later on that the pass you own was filched from you. Unless, of course, you're not supposed to have it in the first place....”

Lewis blushed under the heavy gag. Travis would not be happy at all were he to learn that some students owned keys of the building, especially passes. He nodded.

“So, this means you're not going to make a fuss of this little inconvenience?”

Lewis nodded again. Billy playfully patted his head.

“Good boy. Glad to see we can get some fair play through your head.”

Sadly enough for Lewis, Fred was exactly in the state he'd been left in. While Ben and Keith released him from the coat rack so he'd join his friends, Billy searched the rucksacks.

“So we've got four of the plans. And I know where the fifth one is!”

“Do you really?” Ben asked incredulously.

“Think about it: Fred found one in the case of War of the Buttons; Cowboy got one inside the Greek vase in the entrance hall. What’s on the vase, Cowboy?”

“Ulysses tied to the boat’s mast so he doesn’t get drowned by the mermaids?” Keith smiled, proud both of Billy and of having understood earlier on what he meant. “Ben, what’s on the tapestry, the copy of the Caravaggio’s?”

Ben racked his brains for a second, picturing in his mind art that was so familiar that he barely noticed it.

“Oh, this is this scary picture with Abraham about to slay Isaac…”

“And our very own Lewis found his behind the Saint Sebastian painting upstairs in the dorm. I guess there’s some pattern in Travis’ choice for hideouts…”

Lewis was now quietly fumbling at being outsmarted by Mr Perfect. Indeed the plans were not hidden at random, and he knew what Billy was about to reveal.

“What other piece of art featuring restraints is there in the building?”

“The Prometheus poster where he’s chained to a rock, in the Greek class!” Ben yelped.

“Billy, I’m glad to be your friend,” Keith simply acknowledged.

So the little troop set off for another journey through the House, Lewis followed by Philip and Fred, pieces of rope linking the coils wrapped below their shoulders. Keith was leading the “chain gang”, pulling Lewis behind, and having more puppeteer fun by bringing his shorts to life, and having them use words such as “bombastic”, “minuscule” or “fraudulent”, which brought lots of good-hearted laughter from Ben and Billy who followed. Even Lewis, who’d never admitted it of course, thought it was wittier than expected from Cowboy; to save face he cursed in response, which only triggered Keith into finding more outrageous remarks.

Of course, Billy was right: the fifth piece of the plans was in the Greek class that was not locked, another clue from Travis that had been overlooked by Lewis. Ben unstuck it from behind the frame that held a copy of the Gustave Moreau’s interpretation of the myth, with Prometheus waiting for his liver to be eaten out.

“Thinking of it, this is a bit creepy,” he said as he hung the frame back in the light of a late autumn afternoon sun. He turned to the window, gazing at the big red disk that was still far above the horizon. “Talking of creepy, should we have some fun with them,” he pointed to the three captives, “until dusk? I’d say we’ve got a full hour at least.”

“That’s quite tempting, especially for the one who tortured Cowboy,” Billy said casting a nasty look towards Philip.

“No worries, Bee, I reacted more from surprise than from pain. I think we should rather validate our win by going to see Travis. But I’d like to offer them a deal.”

Three pairs of eyes looked at him intently, wondering what devious offer would be made.

“I agree, lads, they put us through some really rough stuff, and we have barely had them captured for half an hour.”

Fred grunted.

“Yeah, except you, Fred, but if you’re the sorest loser of the bunch, you can’t really complain.”

Ben frowned; Keith caught his eye and winked, unseen from the others, to let know he was kidding.

“So I think we should go upstairs so Travis declares us the winners, and let him know that the Commander Electric consultants pay a forfeit by being our captives until this evening’s meal. By the way, we have to decide whether we rat on little cheater Lewis about his tricked shorts and scarf.”

He stepped in front of Lewis and locked his eyes into his.

“Should we?”

Lewis timidly shook his head no.

“We’ve got a problem, then; how are we ever going to explain you lost your shorts? We can’t put them back on with the scarf hanging.”

Billy knew Keith was having his revenge, because it would have taken three seconds to remove the sewn scarf. But it was Ben who picked up on the idea that was building up.

“Let’s remove Fred’s and Phil’s shorts. We’ll claim they are trophies, just like in the French picture!”

“Nice thinking Ben, I’dn’have thought of this myself,” Keith said, feigning surprise. He turned back to Lewis.

“Is this a fair deal?”

Well, yes, it was a fair deal, according to Lewis. It had to be a bit after four, and dinner was at five thirty. Plus, he had already paraded in his briefs, so a little company would lessen the humiliation. He nodded.

“How do you strike a deal with a bound and gagged guy? You can’t shake hands, he can’t spit on the floor, he can’t promise anything… I know!”

He extended his hand one foot from Lewis face at chest level.

“What the French call the ‘baisemain’. Just kiss my hand please.”

Lewis stared at him wide-eyed, but as the stare kept on, he eventually complied, bowing to Keith. Ben rushed into having Fred promise in this highly entertaining way, and so Billy collected Philip’s oath.

They stepped triumphantly into Travis’ office. The prefect smiled as he lifted his eyes from his anatomy books, and saw the three winners framing a procession of keenly restrained players. In briefs. Ben solemnly advanced to the desk and handed out the plans.

“Mission accomplished, Travis. Though our competitors didn’t make it easy for us. As they were rather feisty, we had to restrain them a bit. One question the team had: what about a reward?”

“Doesn’t knowing you saved the world is reward enough?”

“Oh yes, it makes us quite proud, but then it’s more like a favour then. We have a couple issues to settle with Commander Electric.”

“So?”

“So, if we could have them at our disposal until mealtime as agreed with them, it would be nice.”

“I guess the spoils go to the victors, in a way,” Travis said, “and it seems you’ve already gotten their assent, so I have no reason to oppose.” The fact he repeated Lewis’ own phrase was a source of much mirth for Keith and Billy.

“By the way, I had a question about mealtime,” Keith said. “Isn’t it the custom in Saint Sebastian that on Saturdays, the meal is a late supper rather than dinner?”

Travis kept a straight face and played along.

“Yes, of course. Between nine thirty and midnight, you choose your time. I had also planned a late tea, so you may proceed to the prefects’ room.”

They all went, and Travis distinctly saw the merriment in the winning team’s eyes, and the annoyance in the losing one’s; plus the wide unbelieving stares of those who’d got tricked by witty, wicked rivals.

TBC
Bondwriter
Centennial Club
Centennial Club
Posts: 575
Joined: 6 years ago

Post by Bondwriter »

Two more chapters in this riveting tale of teenage tie-ups.

21. Revenge at teatime, and later on

The six players sat in the prefects' room. Three of them had very little chance of falling from their seats, as they had been carefully secured to them.

“These scones are the best, it's a real shame you can't have a bite,” Ben said.

He elicited the usual annoyed grunt from Lewis only, his partners having given up on resisting after the defeat. They just had to hope that there wouldn’t be too much of a payback. Philip in particular wondered whether he would be inflicted some pain in retaliation of his interrogating Cowboy rather roughly.

“This feels great, especially when we had to skip lunch,” Cowboy added, throwing a mean look towards Lewis, “How do you think we should get even for what they did?”

Billy swallowed what he had in his mouth before he spoke. “I don’t think they all deserve the same punishment. Little Freddy already spent a good part of the day trussed up; he didn’t get much time to upset us.”

“He almost gave me a spanking!” Ben protested.

“Yeah, almost. He didn’t go all the way through, though. Phil tortured Cowboy, it’s more serious.”

Philip’s blue eyes were pleading.

“It wasn’t that bad, Billy, I survived,” Keith said matter-of-factly. He looked deep into the culprit’s eyes. “I know exactly how I can pay Phil back.” The smile that ensued uncovered Keith’s white teeth, giving his face a none too reassuring appearance. He then turned towards Lewis.

“But our efforts should focus on the leader, I guess. The mastermind, the brains behind all their futile attempts at fooling us. I must say, he almost succeeded. Through cheating, of course. What usually happens to cheaters?”

“Feathers and tar?” Billy suggested. Lewis’ following grunt got wholehearted laughs from the winning team.

“If we were at the farm, I’d have all that’s needed,” Ben asserted, “but we’ll have to find something else for here. Something similar, but without making a mess.”

“You’re right, the cleaning would be left to us,” Keith said. “Talking of cleaning, I think I have an idea for Lewis.”

This time, the plea was unheard, as it was conveyed only through Lewis’ big doe eyes.

“We have four to five hours before supper. That’s plenty of time to have fun.”

“Yes, we could remove Fred’s legs hair with tweezers!” Ben cheerfully offered.

“This’d be fun, but it means we’d have to work; I think winning allows us to get some rest; especially since we may turn our prisoners into... servants.”

This time there were muffled protests from the whole losing team; this wasn’t in the rules! Of course, this was only the first time they’d had such a long game, and the aftermath of a defeat had not been discussed yet.

“Our rooms need cleaning, so this could be a mission for Phil and Fred, and I think Lewis could take care of many things in this very room,” Billy mischievously proposed. Ben looked at him quizzically.

“But how are they going to clean up if they’re all tied up?”

“I’ll show you,” Billy replied.

Philip was their first guinea pig; after Billy had experimented and tried a few things, he had gone from being tightly trussed up on his chair to standing hobbled and unable to assault anyone without risking a fall. His hands were linked by rope, and as Billy had pointed out, if left to his own device, he could certainly succeed in escaping. So Ben and Keith would be in charge of monitoring the activities of the two house cleaners, with their legs hobbled and their hands held by cuffs made of rope. A chest harness was woven, to link the hand above, and to their thighs below, so they could not wave their arms around too briskly. Once they were done outfitting Philip, they took care of Fred. Then came Lewis’ turn.

“The jobs I have in mind for him could be a bit messy, so we should find him some protection. Ben, could you get the apron in the cupboard under the sink, please?” Billy asked.

So Lewis soon wore the nylon apron that had to be some remain of a cleaning lady from decades ago. Once the rope harness was threaded and knotted, Lewis no longer had any possibility to remain his dignified self.
“Sure, we don’t want him to get stains on his jersey or his pretty undies,” Ben giggled.

The dark looks he cast over to his captors bore the promise of revenge to come, but as it was implied anyway, it would have been stupid not to enjoy the moment.

“Mmmppphmpht!”

“Sorry, you don’t make sense,” Billy replied, pretending he had not understood Lewis say he’d pay for it.

The three winners gathered at the end of the room, and plotted how they would take their punishment from there, unheard from the captives, but not letting their eyes off them. One never knows.

Gathering brooms they handed to Philip and Fred, Keith and Ben lead their charges back towards the dorm, in which they would clean up.

“Your first task, Lewis, is to tidy up the supplies we used for the game. Pick up the rucksacks, and empty them on the table. Then sort out everything. I want coils of rope perfectly rolled up, and scarves well folded, and so on and so...”

Billy settled in an armchair some ten feet away; he picked up a news magazine and laid back for a comfortable read, as Lewis thrived to achieve his task while being thus hindered. The mere fact of having to bend over to pick up the bags that lay on the floor was no small feat. Then coiling the long rope with very little scope in motions was no leisurely walk either. The occasional “Is everything OK?” or “Will you manage?” were of course rhetorical and getting a taste of his own medicine certainly was what took the biggest toll on Lewis’ nerves.

He was still at it when the four other boys came back into the prefects’ room. To Lewis’ utter surprise, Philip and Fred were free. Billy feigned surprise also.

“Did they manage to get free by themselves?”

“No,” Keith answered, “but their penalty’s over. Phil agreed to carry my stuff for the rest of the football season.”

“And Fred will do my bed until Christmas,” Ben said.

Lewis didn’t know what to think. His teammates had gotten a rather lengthy forfeit, but it was all very mild. He had envisioned hours of tickle torture, or worse, when the deal had been made in Travis’ office, not these wimpy retributions. What would he get? Having to shine Billy’s shoes for a month? He turned towards his personal tormentor, his eyes asking the question, with an enquiring grunt to reinforce the message.

“Lewis, my friend,” Billy replied in a reassuring tone, “you’re not going to be submitted to an everlasting penalty. This is not worthy of your talent and genius. But the next three of four hours will be yours to demonstrate we are even.”

“What has he been doing for all this time?” Keith asked.

“He was tidying our supplies. Are you done with this, footboy?”

Lewis shook his head angrily. Having to be the butt of lame jokes for a whole evening was a complete injustice, especially as his accomplices had gotten off the hook quite easily. As he turned back to the newcomers, he heard the ropes he had tidied falling. Keith sported an angelic smile; he looked genuinely sorry.

“Oh, my mistake, I’m really clumsy, I should have been more careful putting down the ropes we used on Fred and Phil,” he apologized.

“Don’t worry, Cowboy, our servant will pick it up.”

Knowing there was no way out, Lewis abode. It was a while later when all the equipment was carefully put away in the rucksacks, neatly coiled and folded. Billy came for an inspection.

“Nice job, Jeeves. Time for you to fix our supper.” He checked the menu held by a magnet on the fridge’s door. “Turnips, carrots, onions and potatoes to peel, and some steaks. You should get started soon. Guys, should we play Risk?”

And the little crew gathered around the table, as Lewis toiled to get the stuff inside the fridge. His restraints made any task much more difficult; it seemed it took the longest time to do things he hated doing anyway. Meanwhile, the rest of the gang was really getting into the game.

“Hey, waiter, bring us something to drink,” Ben ordered. Lewis turned towards the table. For a moment, Billy felt a pang of guilt as tears were filling Lewis’ eyes - then he noticed the onion in his hands. Ben was the one who pointed this out:

“Does poor little Lewis feel bad? Is he mad he lost? Or does he want his mommy?”

They laughed, and it was indeed not sadness that could be read in the big wet eyes, but a lust for revenge. He paused on his task, got glasses to the table and fetched a bottle of soda in the fridge. He dawdled back to the table and started helping his patrons. As he turned away from Philip, who revelled in his winning Kamchatka from Ben, a resounding smack could be heard as Philip’s hand hit Lewis’ satin-clad butt and a surprised rumble more from the spanked waiter. Then there was silence. Five pairs of eyes turned towards Philip, who understood he’d just done some sort of faux pas.

“Uh, sorry, I didn’t mean to... I mean, uh, it was just too tempting.”

Fred, always the mild, cheerful one usually, cut in sharply. “There was no need for this. You should’ve asked. A prisoner should be given fair warning.” Philip didn’t see everybody exchanging conspiratorial glances. After all, two prisoners are always better than one for a gang of TuGGers.

“Yes,” Billy took over, “like you’ve tortured Cowboy, and he kind of forgave you, but this time, you’re going to get it good, Phil. Let’s tie him up!”

Three irate players pounced on Philip, Lewis desperately making way for them, trying not to spill soda on the floor that they’ll make him clean up afterwards. The rucksacks were not too far away, and soon Philip was sitting on his chair and in no capacity to stand, the ropes coiled around his arms and torso, and his feet on the table.

“What do you think, boys, are fifteen minutes of tickle torture enough of a penalty?” Billy asked. Everyone nodded. Ben unlaced Philip’s shoes and socks and swiftly tied his ankles together.

“Who wants to start?” he asked.

“I’ll go first,” Billy replied. “I’ll go easy enough on you, since you didn’t betray us; but sadism has got to be punished . Especially if you inflict pain on Cowboy.” The last remark drew a big smile on Keith’s face, as well as a little blushing.

Lewis was stunned; the mention of Philip’s loyalty to Billy was a big surprise. What did it imply? Did he lose because of Phil?

His attention was quickly pulled back to the show that went on under his eyes. Philip was squirming helplessly under Billy’s relentless finger work. This went on for ten minutes with Philip getting very red in the face. Then it was over. Billy turned to the rest of the gang; Ben took his turn, teasing his victim with some baby talk. Then Keith took his turn.
However, Fred declined the offer. “I’m not chickening out, guys, but I think he had enough.”

“Fine,” Keith replied, “Why don’t you dress him up like Lewis, Fred? I think our waiting staff could do with one more hand anyway.”

“Right, give me a hand, Ben?”

Fifteen minutes later, a new game of Risk had started, since one of the players was gone, and two busy cooks struggled with fixing the meal. Getting help cheered Lewis up, especially from the newcomer, whom he was rather keen on. Not mentioning that it alleviated the weight the situation had put on him. He wondered how he’d have managed cooking the veggies without getting burnt had not Phil been holding the pan’s handle. It was nice teamwork indeed.
Before it was time for supper and Travis came, Billy spoke up.
“We hope this will be a good lesson, Lewis. Next time you won’t come into our room in the middle of the night on the eve of a big game to kidnap us.”
Keith took over. “Cheating will never ensure a one-hundred percent chance victory. Especially against the three most talented TuGGers this school has ever known!”

“You bet!” Ben added.

Supper went fine, as the meal was really well prepared, everything cooked to perfection. Travis remarked on the waiters’ efficiency and discretion as they stood by the table. Once the meal was over for their patrons Lewis and Philip got sat at the table as they now could get their share. Ben trussed them onto chairs next to each other. In turn, one of the two boys’ hands was untied, as the other had his gag removed, and they were instructed to feed each other. The rest of the group had a lively chat on how the game had gone down. There was some boastful embellishment, of course, as everyone tried to emphasize his role in the events. “And then, I jumped from quite a distance, silenced Phil, grabbed his scarf and tied his elbows with a single hand!” Keith said, standing up and waving his arms around to show how he’d done.

As the washing and cleaning up had been completed by that evening’s staff, it was high time to go to bed. As Travis left and wished them good night, Ben moved to the hobbled pair to eventually free them.

“Hold on,” Billy said, “we still have a matter to discuss. Do free Phil, but leave Lewis alone for the time being.” The long-term prisoner was beginning to find the whole thing stale.

“We got kidnapped last night by three rascals who thought they’d win today by denying us sleep. We may have gotten even about today’s game, but last night still needs a little discussion.”

Lewis sighed in his heavy gag; this got Keith’s attention.

“You didn’t think the queen of the fairies wouldn’t get back to you on this, Lou?”

“Mmmprmmgllmph...”

This time the annoyance carried through, but it didn’t get any positive feedback from the victims of the previous kidnapping.

“Don’t fret, Lewis, your cronies will join you,” Billy said, looking at Ben and Fred, hoping they’d agree, since a three against two match could yield unexpected results. However, he didn’t have to worry too much, since the culprits seemed willing to abide.

“Uh,” Ben replied, “You’re not gonna be too rough on us?”

“Nah, you know us,” Keith said, which was maybe not the best way to reassure the penitents to be, “We just want to make sure you guys will stay nicely in bed tonight, so a few ropes would help to ensure we sleep well.”

“Hey, you can’t leave us on our own all night like this!” Fred protested.

“Well, we didn’t say you’d be on your own. Technically, if the three of you are in the same room, it hardly qualifies as ‘on your own’.”

“You’re right Keith, but I volunteer to be their ward if need be,” Philip offered.

“You don’t mind spending the might with three hardened criminals?” Billy asked.

“I’ll manage. If they’re restrained well enough, I guess I don’t have much to fear.”

The grunt from Lewis qualified as a threat if judged only on the tone.

“Then, Lewis, I’ll have to keep an eye on you in particular,” Philip said with a mischievous smile.

“I’m not sure Travis will approve, so we’ll have to smuggle Lewis without being seen,” Billy explained, “So could you divert his attention while we bring our friend inside his room, Keith?”

“I sure can. I’m sure he’ll be glad to discuss tomorrow’s activities anyway.”

Keith disappeared, and once the coast was clear, the skilled Cowboy having taken Travis out from his room, the rest of the gang made their way to Lewis’, Ben’s and Fred’s room. Philip followed Lewis closely, a hand on his shoulder; Billy couldn’t make out what the ominous whispering inside the bound and gagged prisoner meant, but it seemed it made him a little bit less reluctant. No escape attempt was made, and they reached the room safely.

“There’s only three beds for four people, so I’d suggest we get these two birds in the same nest,” Philip said, pointing to Fred and Ben. There was only some very half-hearted protest from the latter, hinting at Ben snoring and moving around a lot in his sleep.

“I don’t snore!” Ben protested.

“And we may make sure he doesn’t move around too much either,” Billy added.

When Keith entered the bedroom ten minutes later, he found Ben and Fred facing each other, on their side, on the top of the bunk bed. Their hands were tied up in front, on their chest, a network of ropes guaranteed they wouldn’t fall, and tape plastered over their lower faces prevented any loud outburst; they had ten inches separating them, “so you’re not disturbed by Ben wiggling around,” Billy had reassured Fred.

Keith wondered whether Philip needed help in trussing up Lewis for the night, but Philip had declined the offer. “I can handle him by myself, don’t worry,” he replied. Slightly puzzled by the way Philip eyed the remaining captive, Keith and Billy retired nonetheless.

“Sleep tight, guys, and Phil, be a gentle bed bug!” There was a chuckle and some muffled greetings from the occupants of the room. Keith and Billy, exhausted by the eventful day, went to their own room and soon were asleep.

The next morning, they leaped out of bed rather early; there was only some very small hint of dawn coming as Billy looked out the window. They quickly agreed they’d like to check how things had gone in the other room. As they entered stealthily, the show was quite entertaining. Philip had used the single bed to spread-eagle Lewis in it, and he was also lying in it.

“Uh oh,” Keith joked, “There was no big need to free one mattress for him.”

Fred and Ben’s predicament had been slightly worsened, as rubber caps and blindfolds had been added. Billy got to the one who was on the outside, Ben, and removed them both. The swim cap concealed some earplugs.

“Our Phil needed you deaf and blind, on top of being mute, apparently,” he stated. “Why so?”

Keith pulled the quilt covering Philip and his prisoner tied on his back. Nestled on the prisoner’s left, Philip had a leg between Lewis’ and an arm draped across his shoulder. He turned around slowly, his eyes still sleepy.

“It’s Sunday; can’t you let us sleep in a little?”

“Sleeping in would be OK, but we won’t let you cuddle all you want. We’ve got tons of things to do. Travis is having a Hojo Jutsu workshop! Let’s set the prisoners free.”

As Lewis got released, Billy couldn’t help but notice how silencing the gag was: a big, soggy material wad was extracted once Philip was done removing the layers of scarf and tape.

“Wow,” Keith exclaimed, “It seems Phil wanted you to shut up! I wonder why.”

It was tough to know if Lewis blushed, since his face was red from the heavy gag, but Philip’s face did take some rosy hue.

“Uh, what’s Hojo Jutsu?” Lewis asked, getting the unwanted attention away from him?”

“It’s some form of a medieval martial art…”

“Medieval! Sounds like fun,” Ben peeped in, as he’d been freed by Billy and was now taking care of Fred himself.

“It’s a complicated technique meant at restraining an opponent with ropes…”

“That you’ll explain us with your usual eloquence and amazing sense of persuasion, Cowboy-san,” Lewis said rubbing his wrists Philip had just untied.

To Billy, there was something fishy. “All right, how come Fred and Ben are blindfolded with their ears plugged, and Phil ends up using Lewis as a pillow, after having him gagged so heavily? And you guys didn’t even put your pyjamas on?”

Philip blushing was even more obvious this time, but Lewis, totally free by now, jumped out of bed. He stood up and stretched, pulling on his black jersey and tugging a bit on his black shorts’ hem, that he’d come into the room without. He looked straight into Billy’s eyes.

“Had you stayed here, you would know. But you wanted to spend the night with your friend,” he claimed with a leer that made the innuendo quite clear, “Now we’ve paid our due, and I’d say it’s time for a quick shower before we head to breakfast, isn’t it lads?”

Everybody agreed, and Billy dropped the subject; there would be other occasions to confirm the hypothesis he could make. And Lewis was right, the punishment was over.

And so went the day, joyfully and without any ulterior motives from any of the participants. The martial art workshop Travis and Cowboy ran was the source of much learning, and the escape challenges of the afternoon got lots of heavy discussion on knots and roping technique.

They left each other at the end of the afternoon, happy to go back home but also eager to see each other soon.

“Please do not weep, Billy, I know how sad you are of seeing me go, especially since you’ll have all this time to fancy what’s going to happen when I get my revenge,” Lewis grinned just before he hopped into his parents’ car.

Billy rolled his eyes. “At least we’ve got one week to draw and have some fun together,” he said to Keith. They got into Billy’s father’s car, and set off into the sunset towards other adventures; but they’d be back to Saint Sebastian, and this thought warmed them up.

22. More in store

The little gang was back to school, and on the first evening spent again in Saint Sebastian, they gathered in the prefects’ room, which had now become their official lair, since it was remote enough from the rest of the dorm to keep a veil on their activities. The topic on the agenda was recruitment. The goal was to have a whole dorm of TuGGers in September, and they still had to double their number. Putting up signs was not an option, and getting in touch directly was a bit risky. The way the original trio had recruited Keith and Billy could work, but there would be a problem if they targeted the wrong person.

“I could always have some doodles with a tied up character in the margin of a notebook?” Keith suggested.

“Of course, but as in the direct approach I exposed earlier on, it’s important to feel the ground beforehand,” Lewis said. “The Houdini Challenge Technique, which I think we should refer to as the HCT among ourselves, can then be tried on the target subject. Have you thought of someone in particular?”

“Keith, when you’re talking about doodles, you think about this guy who actually saw some sketch you’d done in physics class this afternoon?”

“Exactly, he saw my boy detective sketch, the one tied on a chair, and when I caught him looking, he blushed and looked away.”

“Your talent is indeed precious, Cowboy, and if it turns out he’s one of us, songs of praise will be sung to your glory in this house for ages to come!”

“Hmm, I’m glad for once your flowery speech is not full of threats of revenge,” Keith replied.

“Do not overestimate my kindness, Cowboy, recognizing one’s adversary’s worth is not tantamount to letting him off the hook at no cost. All good things come to those that wait. By the way, Phil, do you think we should demonstrate to our friends the hogtie we tried out last week?”

“Uh, sure?” Philip replied.

“You guys spent some time together last week?” Ben wondered out loud.

“Yes, we did, but our blonde buckaroo and his cap-wearing friend did the same, didn’t they? Tallyho, I have a Phil to truss up, and no time to spare! Gather the ropes, Fred.”

Without further ado, the demonstration took place. As Lewis gloated over the helpless turkey Phil had become a while later, the group felt whole again. The evening then glided on joyfully, with the boys reinstalling themselves in the House’s routine.

Keith entered the prefects’ room two evenings later with the widest grin on his face, having summoned an exceptional meeting.

“I went for the old Houdini trick, and it worked! I think I scored for number seven!”

“Following my advice is always a good idea”, Lewis said, striking a triumphant posture, “I’d even got to say the wisest call that can be made.”

Billy sighed silently.

“Yes, yes,” Keith went on, “I’ve got the handcuffs bet on with Matt.”

“The vaquero’s sayings infer that the physics class lad interested in his restrained art is named Matt,” Lewis stated.

“Actually, they infer that he’s found a new candidate,” Billy corrected.

“Will you please let me finish and stop bickering?” Keith protested, none too eager to go into a lengthy and boring semantics discussion. “The bet is on for tomorrow at four, by the cricket field. Are you in for helping me to check Matt out?”

There was a short staring contest between Billy and Lewis, who quickly yielded.

“Go ahead, Billy Boy, expose your plan. I’ll work out the flaws so as to finalize a well laid-out scheme…”

It didn’t take long for the six official club members to plot how they’d take care of Matt. They were getting some experience in handling their recruiting.

The next afternoon, Matt came to the meeting place, unaware of the five pairs of eyes detailing every single one of his moves. He was cheerfully greeted by a buoyant Cowboy.

“Hey Matt! Glad you made it! You’ll leave ten quids lighter than you came!”

“You’re quite sure of yourself. Is this a scam, with tricked handcuffs?”

“Of course not! Skill, skill and more skill, this is all I need. Just have a look at the cuffs, if you want to make sure.”

Keith handed the steel bracelets for inspection. He couldn’t help but notice Matt’s interest. This was promising if he had to be recruited. He would be a nice addition to the team, if his ability to play TuGs was as good as his looks. He was well groomed, and his upturned button nose made him look curious and on the look for adventure. The shiny steel bracelets were carefully examined; then Matt turned to Keith.

“They seem genuine. Should I put them on you?”

“Yes.” Keith turned around and got his wrists in the small of his back. “Go ahead.”

Matt put the handcuffs on, and Keith spun on his heel once again. The only sign of an escape attempt Matt could notice was his shoulders twitching lightly. He almost forgot about the bet in the next two or three minutes as Keith engaged into playful chitchat. Matt couldn’t believe his luck as he gradually found out about the interest Keith had in restraining activities. Of course, there had been games with his cousin George, not to mention the exchanges he’d had with his friend from across the sea, but finding out about someone else in school was great. Not to mention that if he understood correctly, Keith wasn’t the only one in Saint Sebastian to indulge in tie-up activities.

“So, you mean you’ve got friends to play games in which you tie each other up?” Matt asked, slightly sceptical.

“Indeed,” Keith replied, and brandishing the unlocked handcuffs under Matt’s nose. “And having proper escaping skills does help to win!” he grinned.

Matt was flabbergasted. “How did you do this?”

“Did Houdini give his tricks away to the masses? I don’t think so,” Keith replied solemnly.

“You and your friends learn these skills from each other?”

“Yes, we do, but I think I’ve let you in on too much already. Our activities are very secret, and no one should know. Now you do, but let’s make a deal: I won’t collect the ten pounds if you promise not to tell anyone.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Matt agreed. He was proud to be trusted for his silence, but a bit frustrated not to be offered more. He decided to try his luck.

“Hmm… won’t you give me a first lesson in escape artistry?”

Keith pretended to ponder on the decision to be made.

“Well, I’m not sure... But since you’ve already promised, I guess... Do I really have your word that you won’t let anyone outside our little circle know?”

“Not knowing who’s in your ‘little circle’, I guess I shouldn’t talk to anyone anyway. And yes, you have my word.”

“OK, hands behind your back then.”

It was Matt’s turn to offer his wrists to Cowboy, who’d grabbed a three-foot long piece of rope from his pocket. A swift looping and knotting of the white material quickly imprisoned Matt’s hands in the small of his back.

“Hands-on learning, you’ve got to try and get free all by yourself. Fast!”

Darn! This was weird; there was no way for Matt to reach the knot, however hard he tried, however much he squirmed and wriggled. He smiled at Keith, but this smile betrayed his anguish. Keith picked up on this.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to use your distress to do nasty things to you. But let me introduce to you a few friends. Lads, do come out!”

And out from nowhere, Matt saw five boys coming out. Not actually from out of nowhere, but from behind trees and around the corner of the building he and Keith were standing next to.

Matt easily identified all of the boys Keith had summoned. Four of them were in his science classes. He realized that they all belonged to the pupils he’d nicknamed; everyone he deemed of interest got a mental nickname, known only from Matt. There was “The Cat”, the lean, supple boy who moved gracefully, whose name was Fred; his buddy Ben, or “Happy ”, for this lad was always cheerful, and his features made him think of a Disney dwarf; “The Brooder”, Phil, who never said much except for a few sarcastic remarks when there wasn’t too big of a crowd around him; “The Whiz Kid”, Keith’s friend Billy, who was good at every subject, but also good at sports, and apparently gifted with arts too; and last but not least, “Il Divo”, Lewis Fatbind, who wasn’t in any of Matt’s classes, but who was a celebrity all around Saint Thomas More. Who else could get out of any situation with a sharp tone, and a vocabulary the legend said exceeded those of the English teachers? Though a few pupils would have liked to beat him up to bring him a few pegs down, no one had ever dared. They knew he’d relentlessly and verbally harass them for the rest of the time they’d be pupils in the school.

Plus the vocabulary stuff wasn’t the only legend that was being told about Lewis. Matt had heard from students in lower forms some stories about magical powers he’d have. Maybe their imagination and Lewis’ very remote resemblance with one of J.K. Rowling’s character – he did have a faint scar on his forehead, a remnant of an unfortunate fall in a sandbox when he was three, and his hair was black, but he didn’t wear glasses – combined with his ability to go through tons of dire situations had gotten impressionable kids to make up some lore, which Lewis had never tried to repress. His vanity was always quite pleased when he was told that some of the younger kids wondered if he could really make someone flunk a test just by looking at him.

So here they were, all these interesting characters, gathering in front of him. It was a bit embarrassing to have twelve eyes looking at you as you were stuck with your hands behind your back. Six faces staring, expressionless. Even Keith, who’d been so bubbly, was now silent.

“Uh, well...” Matt was trying to find something clever to say.

Lewis turned to Billy, and almost imperceptibly signaled he was the one to go on with the interview.

“Matt, we’ve all heard Cowboy telling you about us.” He paused. Matt was starting to find this a bit creepy.

“Uh, yes, but I promised not to tell anyone...”

“Yes, you did. And, since you did, we think we’re safe with you knowing about the members of the club. You will have to repeat the pledge too.”

A quick glance at Lewis indicated it was his turn.

“The oath you took with the fair-haired vaquero was a good commencement, but we, as an underground organization, need to hear it loud and clear. So repeat the phrase: ‘I vow never to let anyone know of the secret society of the tie-up boys of Saint Sebastian. I understand I’d suffer the strictest of retaliations if I did so.’ And please make this loud and clear.”

It seemed it was also a memory test, since it was rather long, but this was no issue for Matt, who voiced the expected promise in a sincere and convincing tone. He controlled his usually fast-paced delivery to bring the expected solemnity into his statement. He’d been making eye-contact with everyone, and he looked anxiously at his assessors once he was done. The sombre faces hung on for two seconds, then radiating smiles illuminated all six faces as ropes and scarves got removed from pockets and he was overcome by his peers who dragged him to a nearby tree to which he soon was trussed up thoroughly. This lasted for a little while, with taunting and excited explanations; then he eventually was freed.

“You still have to go through initiation,” Philip asserted boldly, “but you half belong to the group now.”

Seven boys got back to their evening regular schedule in quite a cheerful mood that evening.

It turned out Matt was able to join the group two weeks later for a weekend at Ben's grandparents. They had a farm not too far away from Saint Thomas More. It was less than two hours of driving, and the boys jumped out from the two cars that had carried them on a short stretch of motorway and then for a much longer time, though certainly for not as much of a distance, on winding countryside roads. Ben's grandparents' house was a big L-shaped brick building, with bow-windows in front and on the left and three wide chimneys solidly turned towards the sky. This was nice indeed, but what was much nicer was that five hundred yards away, once they'd walked through the woods, there were three cottages where they were scheduled to stay. The cottages were rented to tourists during the summer, but they were quite empty at this time of the year.

They put down their bags into the first cottage; they had to have dinner, and so they'd get back to the main building. Ben's grandmother had cooked quite a copious meal, and she was quite pleased to see Ben's friends devour the ham, the stew and the pies. She and her husband had wholeheartedly agreed on having their grandson and his friends come to make the costumes for the school's Christmas play. This was quite a pleasant crowd.

Ben's grandfather was particularly impressed by the boy with his dark hair and his amazing proficiency when he spoke. Overall, the elderly couple was glad to see how polite all these boys were, and how much they seemed to get along. Ben was the most cheerful of their grandchildren, and they weren't surprised he gathered a merry crowd of boys at his boarding school. Quite a boarding school gang, indeed.

Actually, Matt was really getting into the general cheerfulness of this late autumn family-like evening. So it was almost like a surprise when, a bit after nine, once they'd gotten back to the cottage, they'd gravely gathered around the hearth in which logs were brightly burning. There was no avoiding the initiation - the moment had arrived. The ritual went on for the next three hours; it was conducted with as much enthusiasm as the ones of the other members of the band; then, exhausted, they all went to sleep.

For the first night they'd do with the three bedrooms upstairs in which there were mattresses and blankets. They'd explore the two other cottages the next day. Vows had been made as to not having any nightly attack on their first night, since there was a game the next day that would require all of their energy. Soon everybody was asleep underneath the thatch roof.

TBC
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Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

Thanks for the re-post. Things are coming along nicely.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Bondwriter »

23. Waking up shocked

Matt looked up his watch in the dark. It was 5:30. He had woken up abruptly, wondering if it had all been a dream. But he was in his sleeping bag, and he could hear people sleeping next to him. He shared the room with Lewis and Phil. So it was for real. Two weeks previous he'd have never imagined this could really exist. But the fact he could be out in the countryside with his newly made friends, the little ceremony they'd performed the night before… He had passed the knots tests, and then they'd all used him to display their tie-up skills.

He'd had his fifteen minutes of glory when it had been his turn to perform a tie-up. He had chosen Keith as his assistant for his own demonstration, and had managed a convincing hogtie; of course, the football champ and seasoned escape artist had managed to get out from the ropes. Still, it had taken over a quarter of an hour, during which Matt had paced back and forth in the room and gone into a little speech. He’d cracked lots of blonde jokes that got lots of laughter from everybody else; Keith was the only fair-haired member of the gang, so he didn't get much support from the other players.

Turning on his side and rolling into a ball, Matt went back into a hazy slumber, with vivid, very weird dreams as one gets early in the morning.

He found himself piloting a plane. It went spiralling across the air, gradually turning into a kite, which made the experience yet even more pleasant... till he suddenly got drawn back into a world ruled by the laws of gravity as he felt bodies landing on top of him. He couldn't yell in surprise as a hand was clamped over his mouth.

“Don't move,” Lewis whispered, “we wouldn’t want to hurt you. At least, I don’t… As for my friend Phil, this might be a completely different story!”

As Lewis removed his hand, Matt felt something pressing against his lips. He opened his mouth, thinking this was still part of the initiation, and his mouth was filled with a small round bag full of small grains.

“Wheat. This interesting cereal in its heavy-duty little sack should fill your oral cavity nicely and prevent you from articulating any intelligible speech, not to mention avoid the annoyance of having you squeal and disturb the peaceful slumber of our little friends.”

Matt was stuck in his sleeping bag, and anyway, with someone straddling his calves and Philip sitting on his hip, he couldn’t move. Lewis had grabbed two ribbons that he pulled behind his neck. A first knot was tightened, before the two threads were wrapped around his head again and eventually bound on his neck, grabbing a few thin hairs in the process.

“This should prevent you from warning the rest of our little party. Fred, Phil, help me out with his arms!”

Matt felt two bodies sliding along his flanks; then the sleeping bag was yanked down to uncover his torso, and allow access to his arms, which were seized and stoutly pulled behind him. He was waiting for his wrists to be tied; instead, his elbows were circled by a loop of rope. They were not pulled together, but the three accomplices handled him to get the rope going back in front of him over his chest.

A belt made out of rope was similarly wrapped around his waist. Once the ropes were securely pulled and neatly knotted, his arms were trapped against his body. The sleeping bag was pulled back, and the six hands were soon threading and cinching an intricate rope network that had Matt turned into a dry sausage ten minutes later.

“My fellow kidnappers, I should pay tribute to your outstanding skills. This would be deemed by many a tugger quite an achievement; we’ll have to make sure this is not the last accomplishment we experience over the course of this day. It’ll be short, since sun has not risen yet and will set early this evening; nevertheless, we may make the most of it and make an everlasting impression on our opponents. There’s no need for me to remind you of the degradation they had us suffer the last time we had a weekend game. Today we’re going to wash away this insulting defeat in ropes and tape!”

Matt had now gotten accustomed to Lewisian mannerisms. Though he understood all of it, he still wondered what he meant. He’d thought the game would start with everyone gathered, as he’d heard in the tale of the previous full-day game that had been told quite a few times, with many embellishments and at least three very different versions. However, they all started with a kick-off meeting with Travis. Why had he not been told anything about this time being different?

“Time to get going…” The three partners in crime all grabbed Matt by the ropes trussing him up. Phil took him at chest level, Fred at the waist and Lewis at the feet.

“We’ve designed a clever, safe and sound way to haul our prisoners around, and you’re being lucky enough to experience it first-hand, Matty boy! Aren’t you glad? Oh yes, needless to say to a bright lad like you that you should keep as motionless as possible to avoid any possible unpleasant mishap.”

Hmm, this was just like the way Cowboy had been carried around the night they’d kidnapped him along with Billy and Phil. Now well aware of the Saint Sebastian lore, Matt could prevent feeling panic and he was able to anticipate a bit; still, he had to wait to know what Lewis was holding in store for the latest recruit.

They went down the stairs, crossed the room and went outside; the cold breeze lashed his face, but Matt kept warm in the sleeping bag. He did not long for being taken out from the feathers and nylon lining: he had gone to sleep in his new uniform, to conform to the outfit his roommates had deemed proper for the night. He never imagined he’d have to stand this winter morning in his smooth satiny short shorts, and just a nylon jersey on his back wouldn’t be quite the easiest condition to handle. Having no shoes wouldn’t help either.

The journey went on. They knew where they went and didn’t need to talk, which puzzled Matt even more as every minute took them further away from the house they’d spent the night in. He didn’t dare move, and he relished the feeling of this weird and new way to travel. It was rather comfortable. Had he not been the victim of a vicious kidnapping, and the focus of some unnerving Lewis plot, he’d enjoy the ride. Soon his questioning got to an end, as he heard the creaky sound of a rusty doorknob being turned.

The procession entered a small building. It smelt of wood fire, with a faint scent of dust mixed with the humidity there may be in a building left on closed and unheated for a few months. It reminded Matt of the hunting pavilion of his uncle Spencer. But well, now it was him who’d been hunted.

“Let’s stand him up,” Lewis ordered, breaking the unsettling silence. At last, maybe Matt was about to be told what was actually going on. They got him to stand on his feet, his back propped against a wide wooden beam that rose in the middle of the small tiled room. It was a bit more than a hunting pavilion, with doors in the back of the room telling of more living space behind; a fire was roaring in a granite hearth. Philip fulfilled his unspoken wish.

“You wonder what’s happening to you, hey? This is no hazing or any such boot camp bullcrap. This is the real thing. A few things you should know about yourself: you’re a very knowledgeable and precious scientist. You know a very important secret. We must make sure our enemies don’t learn this secret from you. So we keep you in a small park, well hidden before a team exfiltrates you this evening. We don’t know if you can be trusted…”

He was interrupted by Matt’s angry mmphing, but he didn’t flinch and quickly went on with his emotionless speech.

“No, our side can’t trust a scientist as valuable as you. So before you’re flown to a safe destination, we need to keep you close to the landing strip where your plane will land tonight.”

Fred took over the little tale to kick off the game.

“We’re supposed to keep you unharmed, which makes Phil very sad.”

Phil flashed his pearly white teeth in a grin that was a bit disquieting to Matt.

“Yes, a prisoner, a pair of pliers and a corroded saw will always make Phil the happiest of special agents.”

It was time for Lewis to end up the speech his goons had started.

“But do not fear! We know how to tame our interrogation specialist. It is not this easy to manage to curb his impulses. You’ve got to understand that our Phil derives some uncanny enjoyment from handling our captives in, say, a rather rough manner. I personally don’t like to prevent my colleagues from indulging into their peculiar habits, however strange and messy they may be; however, we need to deliver an unblemished package to our customers. Hence we’ll be content in restraining you in such a way that you can’t escape us. It’s also our duty to ensure you do not make verbal contact with our little group of antagonists. So you’ll remain gagged too. Fred, could you show our forlorn scientist the secret?”

Fred approached with an envelope that he ripped open. He took a piece of paper out and unfolded it. Going at great length into demonstrating that he did not look at it, he brought it one foot from Matt’s face. The ‘captive scientist’ read: Scientia non habet inimicum nisp ignorantem.

Matt knew a bit of French and some Japanese, but he was not well-versed in Latin. “You’ve got three minutes to memorize the secret,” Fred stated. It had to do with science and ignorant people, but the boy focused on everything in the message, quickly making up mnemonics to be sure to remember the proverb. As Fred took the piece of paper out of his sight range and threw it in the fire, the sentence was thoroughly engraved inside Matt’s mind.

Lewis had taken some toast and a thermos flask of tea out of rucksacks that were already in the little house when they came. Breakfast was eaten by all four boys, Matt being fed by Philip once his gag was removed. The talk was on the necessity to thwart any attempt from Ben, Keith and Billy to gain access to the prisoner and the confidential information he held. Fred turned to Matt.

“Can we count on your cooperation? Are you on our side?”

It was clear to Matt that he was not to yield if he wanted to get any respect from the gang. Not only this, but not resisting would spoil everybody’s fun.

“You must be joking. There’s no way scumbags like you will manage to keep me prisoner. If the others don’t free me, I’ll manage to esc…mmmph!”

Lewis’ hand kept him from finishing his sentence.

“A feisty lad, isn’t he? So much the better!”

As breakfast was over anyway, Philip and Fred took care of their prisoner. The little grain-filled bag was jammed inside his mouth anew, and Phil strengthened the set-up with some duct tape over his lower face. As their friend was busy silencing the captive, Fred and Lewis used more rope to tighten the helpless bundle to the post against which he was leaning. Their job done, they took the proverbial steps back to admire their handiwork; Lewis held a Polaroid camera in his hand, the flash bulb cast its blinding white flash over the powerless package.

“Time for going on with the plan. This should convince our foes we’re not kidding,” Fred gloated with a menacing voice.

“We leave you with Philip, so no funny stuff! Don’t give him any reason to try his kind of tricks on you…”

Lewis and Fred left. Phil bent over one of the bags and stood up again, holding a hunting knife in his hand. He stepped close to Matt, the tip of the blade inches only from his eyes. This wasn’t exactly the best part of the game to Matt, but he knew he was safe. Still, he stared wide-eyed and grumbled the loudest “Mmph!” the thorough gagging allowed him to cast.

“We’re on our own, Matt. I think we should have fun.”

It was the first time Matt was actually alone with Phil, and he wondered to what extent this was all a game to his gaoler. At least his current situation didn’t require him to engage into any conversation to find out if this was just a lark.

A few hundreds of yards away, three innocent—well, not exactly innocent, but at least unaware—boys were enjoying some peaceful rest while downstairs, two conspirators, oddly barelegged for the season and enfolded in thick jackets were busy laying down their scheme; it was supposed to be faultless, and once all the details had been taken care of according to the plan, they moved on towards the stairs. They climbed quietly, eager not to have a board creak so they would not disturb the ongoing slumber of their rivals.

As the door flung open to give way to Lewis and Fred, Philip was lengthily describing a torture used by the pirates in the seventeenth century, which consisted in nailing a part of the intestine to a tree. He didn’t get to finish his explanation.

“We should move on. Everything’s set; it’s only a question of minutes now before they get on our trail. Let’s get our precious asset out of his gift-wrapping so he doesn’t slow our progression down.”

A fire alarm! Keith heard the fire alarm, he had to react. He had to get all of his friends out of the building. But someone was calling him. It was Billy, but his voice wasn’t betraying any panic. What was going on? The alarm stopped.

“Keith! Wake up, I think something’s up. It’s nine already. We were supposed to all get up at eight. There’s no time to lose, Lewis must have played one of his tricks again. The alarm clock is his signature.” His friend’s voice was slightly drowsy, but Billy’s determination was transpiring and got Keith out of bed in a jiffy.

Ben, Keith and Billy soon were downstairs. They’d gotten into track suit pants and put on thick woollen sweaters. They spotted the envelope, the cups and the toast. While Billy rushed over the envelope and tore it open, Ben filled the cups with the content of the thermos flask that was in the middle of the table.

“I think you’d better throw this liquid in the sink and make some fresh tea. With water from the tap,” Keith calmly suggested. Ben looked at him, puzzled. His unspoken question got a reply. “Lewis laced our tea with something last night. We’d never oversleep on a major TuGs day, would we? And you’d have woken up as they moved around. They drugged us. I suspect this tea must have some drug in it too.”

Billy had scanned the content of the envelope, and didn’t let the other two go into lengthy arguing.

“They’ve got Matt. The game has started.”

Billy handed the Polaroid to his teammates. It showed Matt in his electric blue sleeping bag, tied to a post and his face tautly duct taped. They had not gone through the pain of writing anything on the white space underneath the picture, but the letter, in Lewis’ handwriting, was fairly detailed. As Ben was going to boil some water in the kitchen, Billy read out loud.

“Dear worthy adversaries,

I hope my aunt’s alarm clock did not hurt your precious eardrums too much. It’s quite a loud and annoying ring, isn’t it? It was needed to get you out from such a deep slumber, you lazy bums!

Wouldn’t you know it; you’ve been launched into some thrilling adventure once more. You, as secret service agents for the Evil Empire (yes, we are on the good side yet again) have been informed of the will of a scientist from our camp to move to your country. He’s supposed to make contact with you and reveal classified piece of information; our mission, which we accepted enthusiastically, is to prevent him from meeting you before a plane comes and takes him back to our fatherland this evening at four.

We keep him within the limits of The Farm. One of yours knows exactly what these are. In case of encounter and conflict, the resolution will be done according to the usual MO, i.e. scarf in the waistband. No cheating allowed. If you don’t have the confidential data by four, you lose. Which means you won’t have the required information.

Tightest regards,

LF


It could be typical from their fellow tugger, but this note still drew some indignation from its recipients.

“How could he?”

“The nerve this guy has! He’s the one who cheated!”

“Using sedatives… This is SO uncool!”

This righteous anger soon died down as Billy steered his fellow secret agents into drawing a plan. They focused on the Polaroid. Ben tried to explain where the building where it had been taken was located. He then fetched an Ordnance Survey map from a cupboard. This map was detailed enough to show his grandparents’ farm and all the land around to a level low enough to make up a strategy. They gathered around the table and pulled their wits together while sipping tea and nibbling on toast and bacon.

Long before the group of plotters were even analysing the data he’d left behind to mislead them, Lewis was stirring his group forward through one of his inspirational talks.

“Like chess, my friends, we need to be two, three or even four moves ahead of Billy and his ilk. Move forward, Matt my lad, if you dawdle and delay us, I’ll have to leave you into Phil’s clutches, and you do not have any desire to see this happen. Or do you? Maybe you’re into pain?”

The grunt this elicited brought much mirth to the little band of thugs.

“Hey, this means he’d love to be in my clutches, you’ve got to find another threat, Lou!”

They walked on. Ten minutes previous, Matt was taken out from his nylon sarcophagus. Not one, but two jackets made of polar fabric were put on him, once the tightness and general quality of the knots pinning his arms to his sides had been assessed. A pair of thick woollen socks wrapped his feet and calves before he was fitted into his shoes, which they’d brought along. He managed to kick Fred in the shin, but it only resulted in having a piece of cord used to hobble him at the ankles, with not more than two feet of slack.

“Nasty, nasty, nasty…” Lewis commented. “We’ll have to take some special measures.” He had a long white scarf in his hands, and topped the already efficient gag with it. He faced Matt, and moved a lock of thin brown hair out of his eyes. He adjusted the white fabric so it was just under his nose, and moved back behind his captive. The two ends of the scarf were tightened; Matt was grateful for Lewis managing not to pull any hair in the process.

Lewis kept the two ends of the scarf in his hand.

“A mad little pup has got to be kept on a tight leash. Move on.”

And here they were, with Fred opening the way and Matt in tow, feeling the relentless grasp of Lewis Fatbind on the scarf’s ends. Phil was more or less by his side, and the black-haired, blue-eyed torturer wannabe cast carefully acted glances every once in a while. Glances that reminded Matt of how his two-year-neighbour eyed the ice-cream box the day he unfortunately took it out. With someone thirteen years older and over two feet taller, being the ice-cream box felt strange.

But wasn’t the whole situation strange? Kidnapped by lads in outdated footie shorts, being moved around an estate in which neither the outfits nor the trussing up were at risk of being seen by unwanted eyes? Taking a walk through the woods, the bushes and shrubs scratching his knees, the freezing air numbing the little skin that was exposed; this sure was different from the average Saturday watching TV or playing computer games.

They soon reached a pavilion, not that different from the one they’d left a quarter of an hour before. Fred took a key out from his coat’s pocket and unlocked the door. Matt felt a jerk on his gag indicating he was to proceed inside. Once he’d crossed the threshold, Lewis let go of the white cloth. He took a look at his watch, as Fred and Phil framed him, a line of three adversaries facing as menacingly as possible the bound and gagged Matt.

“End of part one, Mr I-know-a-secret-but-I’m-not-going-to-tell. Not that we’re going to leave you that many opportunities to use this potty mouth of yours. At this very minute, our opponents are being deeply bothered by the alarm clock I got from Aunt Charlotte. Loudest one I ever came across indeed. As they’ve had some benzodiazepines last night, fools that they are, waking up must be, say, a little problematic. But no doubt the realization that the game has started already will pump a little adrenalin into their systems.”

As Lewis revealed his devious scheme, Matt took in his surroundings. It was the same lay-out than the place he’d been taken to just before. No wood fire here though. It was warm enough nevertheless, as a large radiator cast its heat from the nearby wall.

24. Up and running

While poor Matt was both ogling and being taunted by Fred in the secluded building at a comfortable distance, Lewis’ senses in the air of this grey foggy morning were on the lookout for any clue as to what the energetic trio was up to. He gestured to Phil what he could make of the behaviours he observed and the few words he heard. The wind was against him, but he managed to take in that things were going according to plan. With clever motions of his hands, he was telling Philip that his scheme was well designed, and that they were doing exactly what he’d said they would.

“OK, stay outside in case something goes wrong, Billy; Ben and I will go and explore,” Keith said.

“Yeah. Nothing brash, though, K. Lewis must have something planned.”

The sign language translated Lewis’ glee to Philip as his opponents were on what he knew was a way to defeat. He accompanied the actions that ensued with silent explanations. Ben was opening the door, then entering, followed by Keith; Billy was taking a few steps back, looking around for any hint of foul play.

Lewis chuckled inwardly, rather proud of having so well chosen his hideout. He could see but he couldn’t be seen. He then indicated that it was time for Philip to make his move.

The next fifty-three seconds saw a flow of actions. Philip leaping out of his position, screaming; Billy taking off, making a split-second decision to flee away rather than follow his friends and get trapped inside the pavilion; Philip smoothly adapting his running style to his target’s; and last but not least, Lewis rushing with a key to the door out of his pocket and locking the door, making Keith and Ben prisoners of the building.

They dashed towards the entrance, but it was too late, and as Keith grabbed the doorknob, and pulled on it, he could only notice the door had been locked. He cursed and yanked on the knob. The merry snigger he heard behind the door could belong to one person only.

“Thank you for this brilliant display of vocal annoyance, Cowboy. Curious birds just get trapped inside the cage! I’ll come back to the bold explorers later on. For now, wait a bit.”

They could hear steps moving away. Keith yelled some threat of very unpleasant retaliation in case they laid hands on Billy, but the only reaction he received was some delighted laughter. He turned to Ben.

“Don’t worry, Keith, there’s another way out. I’ll show you.”

Billy had been running for a few hundreds of yards, and Philip kept at the same distance. In his eagerness to lose his pursuer, the chased boy didn’t notice how the woods’ configuration slowly took him back where he came from.

Some hills planted with shrubbery on his right drew a curve, which had him follow an unwanted path back towards the pavilion. In such an occasion, the straight line was preferable, if only to take the hunter far away from his starting point.

So he was bemused, but only for an instant, as he felt the scarf stuck in his waistband swiftly pulled out. The following snigger was only too familiar; Lewis had ambushed him cleverly, waiting behind the big oak tree for his prey to be within reach. Billy dropped on his knees, as the rules required. Philip came to a halt also behind, panting. Of course, Lewis lost no time in handling the situation.

“Now that we’ve caught the strategic leader, our plans towards victory should be facilitated… But we have to treat this very special take properly; the rest of our scheme is dependent upon him remaining our prisoner until our final triumph.”

To Billy, being knocked out meant having to stand the verbose and pompous adversary without more than small disapproving grunts. He felt the hands of his opponents getting busy with rope.

They first tied his wrists and elbows. It was rather loose, but Billy knew the Saint Sebastian way well enough to realize this was only very temporary. Some hobbles around his knees and ankles were tied by Philip, whereas Lewis took care of the gagging.

A thin silk scarf with a big cotton ball knotted in the middle was crammed inside his mouth, the two ends tied over his neck. The wadding was substantial, and it kept his mouth open. Several strips of sturdy tape forced his jaws together and utterly sealed his lips. In such a game, gags are of crucial importance to gain an advantage over the opponents by preventing the prisoners to bring any assistance through a call or a warning. It was not overlooked once again.

They stood him up, and with a long piece of white cotton rope, Lewis made a chest harness. The middle of the rope was laid on the back of his neck, both strands coming down in front, being pulled underneath his armpits before being crossed at spine’s mid-length to go back in front. Lewis held the two strands and pulled them down, offering the ends for Philip to catch between his thighs.

The blue-eyed acolyte grabbed the rope and pulled the threads up in his back. Lewis held the rope so it would pass between Billy’s legs without catching anything in the way, lest, heaven forbid, it deprives the prisoner of his manly attributes.

Philip threaded the ropes through the X in the middle of the back, looped them and knotted them, before he had them pass through the one over his neck. He then went back under the armpits and made several turns around his chest. A knot was eventually tightened.

‘The torso harness,’ Billy thought, ‘basic but always an insurance to a successful tie-up. I imagine what’s coming up next.’

And indeed there was no surprise, as his wrists were untied only to be crossed and seized into a square lashing. This ended with the two ends of the lashing being fixed to the cord running over his spine, and finally knotted out of reach between his shoulder blades.

At least there had been a relative silence as this had all gone by. Billy knew better than to grunt and to give some satisfaction to Lewis. But his lack of uttering any sound, albeit muffled ones in any case, did not stop Lewis to go into his usual blathering.

“I must confess, Phil, that this catch doesn’t leave me impassive. This one major third of our rival team is no small step towards victory. If their squad was to be considered a duck, it would be a headless one by one…”

“Or a lame duck,” Philip added, quite pleased with participating in the witty chatter that aimed at ruining an opponent’s morale. The chuckle from Lewis confirmed that this teamwork was successful. They went on back and forth, while they pushed Billy in front of them, heading to the place where Fred was keeping an eye on Matt.

Speaking of whom, the captive scientist had found a flaw in Phil and Fred’s rope work. The loop encircling Matt’s right wrist had a little slack in it. Twisting and trying to get free usually meant the ropes tightening, but for once it felt different. With Fred being engrossed in the pixel pixy’s adventures, and ironically attempting to free a princess, the boy bound to his chair in front was finding a way out.

Keith had followed Ben to the first floor of the house. There was a window that they could open, and it was not high enough that they could get hurt while jumping out. Ben flung the window open, but to his horror and dismay, a lock had been put on the handle that kept it shut.

“Bastards! They’ve thought of everything! Fred knows these woods and all the places well indeed.”

They tugged and pulled over it, trying to break the small lock. But it was no good. Its diminutive size didn’t make it any less sturdy, and it held. To their dismay, they could hear Phil and Lewis walking past the pavilion. Keith was about to burst into angered screaming, but Ben hushed him with a sign.

“There’s nothing Lou wants more than hear you tell him off. What would Billy do in such an occasion?” he whispered.

“He would make a stern face and say something like ‘let’s not get worked up and we’ll come up with a solution .’”

“Yeah,” Ben said repressing a laugh. “This seems like good advice. Let’s think for a bit. We’ll kick their butts later on, once we’ve rescued Billy and Matt…”

Sadly enough, it was the very opposite that was taking place at the very time these words were uttered, as Phil used a switch he’d torn of a hazel tree to goad Billy into moving ahead. He was not aiming to hurt, as Lewis’ supervision made any inhuman cruelty risky; plus Billy would either tell later on, or would be in a position to pay him back sooner or later.

Phil was skilled enough to get interesting sounds both from the green wood making contact with the nylon-covered flesh and from the well-stuffed mouth, which of course brought much mirth and cheers from the pair of torturers. They soon were at the door of the pavilion they’d planned to use as a jail.

They entered, and Fred didn’t even raise his eyes. He was entirely focused on getting his little character through the maze and traps that took him closer to the end of his quest. Lewis caught immediately the look of surprise on Matt’s face. As surprising as it seems from a tightly restrained lad kept tied to his chair, Matt had frozen in the middle of some move. ‘Typical hand in the cookie jar attitude,’ Lewis thought. He took a few steps towards the chair, his keen eye noticing right away what was wrong. The right hand was free.

“It’s a bit early to part from us, Matty boy,” he tittered as he snatched the wiggling wrist and began a short work of securing it back to the ropes. “We’re such a nice company after all.”

Matt sunk in his chair, feeling his hands once again inescapably bound. Lewis then turned towards Fred, a stern look of reproach on his face.

“You’ve got to decide which game you’d like to play best, Fred. We can’t let them win because you’re into your babyish entertainment.”

“Uh…” was the cleverest reply Fred could find. He’d meant to pretend he was not paying attention to his ward, in a deceitful manner, perfectly —and a bit vainly— aware that Matt was looking at him; the two-by-three-inch screen had eventually gotten his full attention, though. And this was a behaviour his team could not put up with.

As Billy raised his eyebrows in an appreciative manner, Lewis decided he wouldn’t have a display of discord in front of his enemies. His chest puffed up, taking his most general-like stance, he spoke: “I think you should go with Fred to pick up the remaining fruits from the tree. I’ve planned this well enough so that even you two can handle the next episode by yourselves. I’ll take care of young Billy here. It’s always a pleasure to add to his discomfort. And he’s such a nice sport, we’ll have a lot of fun together... won’t we, Billy.”

The only reply he got was a head raised higher and dark eyes casting a dark look.

“Woo, the dignified angry look number twenty-two! My favourite one indeed!” and turning to the others, “Go in peace, my friends, knowing I’ll have as much fun here with Mr. Grand and Noble as if I were in your delightful company…”

Meanwhile, Keith and Ben’s brainstorming session had not yielded this many productive results. They had gone from wondering about how to get out to trying figuring out what Lewis and mates had in store. They were gathering as much twisted and devious thinking as they could. Ben was a big fan of the FBI profilers featured on the telly in these American series. So he’d suggested thinking like the criminals. So far, they just imagined that the plan was to get them all well trussed up and to enact some nasty revenge for last time’s exactions. But this wasn’t such a major breakthrough in Saint Sebastian expertise.

They quit making bold and innovative assumptions as they heard some sort of noise. The key had been turned into the lock. They looked at each other. This was of course most certainly a trap. They came closer to the door, Keith indicating that Ben stay away as he’d check what was going on. He cautiously opened the door.

Of course, this brewing drama had no influence over Lewis’ enthusiasm into weaving a neat network of white cord to restrain Billy into the —now— infamous ball-tie. Right where Fred had sat just a few moments before, he’d spread a small, thick woollen blanket over which he’d gotten Billy to stand; then he’d prepared the set up by looping and lashing several lengths of rope, roughly around all the joints. Once it was all neatly arranged, he pressed on his TuG fellow’s shoulders to get him to kneel. Billy gave a bit of a fight, but there were already way enough ropes so as to hinder any resistance. It was too bad, but he had to yield to his captor’s will.

From there, Billy’s fate was soon settled. The loops were carefully entwined and knotted, and Billy’s legs were doubled, his heels touching his butt, his knees stuck to his chest.

“Billy Boy and Matty Boy, both prisoners of the dreaded, ruthless, internationally feared Lewis Fatbind. Sweet! Swell!”

Lewis clapped his hands and went into a little dance owing to some North American tribe as well as to the antics of the likes of a Mick Jagger or an Iggy Pop. His uncomfortable position prevented Billy from enjoying the visuals, but he got all the little shouts and yapping. Matt was mesmerized — by Lewis, of course, but by his handiwork especially. The ropes were symmetrically knitted, turning Billy into some piece of art.

Keith was mesmerized too. By a show somehow similar to the one Matt was witness to. Ten yards from the open door, he could see Philip tied to a tree. Not exactly the best ever pole-tie there had been in their little band of players, since they’d experimented quite a bit with this particular figure, but it was well into the upper range. Keith waved to Ben to come over. So, here they were, on the threshold, wondering how Phil could have ended up from imprisoning Billy to being a captive himself.

They stuck their heads outside, checking if some of their foes were around. The coast was clear. Having another look at each other, they moved out in the cold of the winter. The sight of Phil, wearing a thick jacket maybe, but barelegged on a day when temperature was just barely above freezing, inspired some compassion. Plus of course, Keith could make the assumption that Lewis’ team had experienced some disagreement, and that freeing Phil could get him to switch side.

This was a bit naïve, but how could Keith have guessed? It had all gone so fast, not even two hours since the moment they’d woken up at nine, with the misdeed performed. Lots of guesses and assumptions had been made. And Phil’s desperate mmphing was so convincing...

He approached circumspectly, his senses on the look out for some movement around. Ben stayed close, unconsciously searching the protection of his rash team mate. The blue eyes were pleading and both Ben and Keith were in no doubt that some of Lewis’ intrigue and unsavoury conduct towards these of his own side. Both boys empathically neared the victim of such treachery, now willing to rescue him from the evil ways of his peers.

Keith did see Fred behind the tree, but it was too late. The wide trunk had concealed him until they were two feet away from the –supposedly – bound boy. Fred was holding on to the ropes that encircled Philip, and when he let them go, the whole network dropped to the ground. Keith, whose racing skills had gotten him great admiration from most his fellow football players, did turn on his heel and attempt a quick escape. But his attempt failed, as he felt Fred’s hand holding on to the scarf tugged in his trousers’ waistband. He went down on the mattress of damp and cold leaves strewn across the soil.

Ben had not fared much better. He didn’t have Keith’s quickness, and was even slower into realizing they’d been fooled. Phil pounced on him, encircling his arms in a tight embrace, and lowering himself until he reached the small of his back of his hands, while preventing him to use his hands for defence.

“Got it!” Philip shouted eagerly as he ripped the scarf away, causing Ben to faint, almost literally this time. The capture was no small feat, and the woods echoed with the laughter and triumphing remarks from the captors, as they got into trussing up mode.

“Curiosity killed the Keith!”

“Little Ben felt bad about his poooor friend Philip!”

“We win again! We win again!”

“I’d rather say ‘they lose again, they lose again!’”

Keith was fuming, as Ben still wondered where it had all gone wrong. The ritual binding ended with big balls of cloth pressed into their mouths, and a solid layer of tape to seal their lips. They were put back up on their feet, and unceremoniously pushed ahead towards a celebration of their foes’ victory.

“It’s a sure win, and we’re not even halfway through the day!” Fred commented as they heard the bell of the village’s church striking eleven in the distance.

Lewis’ face had seldom displayed as much contentment as when they entered the pavilion ten minutes later ; he was still taunting Billy and Matt, but quickly diverted his sniggering towards the two bound and gagged newcomers.

“Ooh! Ben and Keith themselves! The potential rescuers! The deliverers from evil! The trump that saves the day! Foiled again. Deceived by wits and careful planning. Fooled by the brains of their opponent. This is sweet.”

He turned to his henchboys.

“And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.”

Ben was maybe the only one of the four bound and gagged boys not to get the irony of Lewis' reference to Henry V. Using an inspirational speech to celebrate victory was somehow useless. And Lewis was a solid six weeks late in his schedule, since they were nearing Christmas, and Saint Crispin's day was on October twenty fifth. But the speech delivery did get the expected effect, as it was followed by many a cheer and rejoicing. After a good five minutes of the three winners laughing and booing their helpless opponents, Lewis took a grave and important tone.

"My friends, my friends, let's remain gallant and let's give some credit to our opponents."

His unctuous, smarmy tone did nothing to calm the anger Keith felt. He tried to kick Lewis with his hobbled legs. But his hampered move was swiftly dodged by the orator, who took a rebuking tone.

“Now, now, my yellow-haired livestock-keeping friend, this is definitely in very bad taste to turn against the winners. This is indeed a display of quite a lack of fair-play. But not to worry, I think I have a way to teach you how to help you see the errs of your ways.”

“Mmmmph!” Keith complained, trying in vain to get across the message that this result had been obtained through much treachery.

Philip guffawed. “Should I go get the accessories?”

“Please do. This is a lesson they won’t forget any time soon. Fred and I will solve the temporary inconvenience of having left our guests’ lower limbs too mobile.”

As Philip climbed upstairs, Lewis restrained Keith’s knees and ankles, and Fred took care of Ben’s. Once he was done, he turned to Matt.

“Well, Matt, you should be glad you’re not included in Lewis’ plan. You’ll witness how revenge is a dish best served cold, as he always says.”

“Well, I didn’t coin this proverb…” the object of such an effusive admiration modestly admitted, “but yes, we have a score to settle. I’d bet they bragged to you about turning us in maids last month. Well, we had to find a proper way to get even.”

A series of mmphing grunts ensued. Mat and Billy had caught what was coming from the corner of their eye, but it was plain obvious to Ben and Keith, as Philip royally descended the steps, waving a bundle of pink material.

“Sometimes, having girls in your acquaintances and in this case in your relatives can prove to be helpful once in a while.” Lewis stated. “My cousin is part of a sports-supporting girl squad, which Americans would call ‘cheerleaders’. She lent me some outfits.”

Keith and Ben’s eyes got wide open with horror.

“After all, being considered an eccentric, or even worse by your own cousin was well worth seeing the interesting look on your faces, my friends.”

More sniggering from his cronies ensued. Of course, the expressions on all four faces were priceless, even though Billy was turned face down and it saved his look of annoyance from being seen. But the three other could fully envision the pink shiny nylon that the costumes were crafted with.

It took all three of the captors to handle Keith properly. He put as much of a struggle as he could, and he did manage to get a few restrained blows to hit their target, but a very apt teamwork did yield the expected result. Thirty minutes later, they’d rid him of his navy blue track suit and replaced it with a tight pink bodice and skirt. They even had added a pair of flat-heeled patent leather pink shoes. The ropes had been applied simultaneously, to hinder any escape or as much struggling as possible.

They took care of Ben, and then of Billy, who was almost relieved to be put into such shaming clothing since the ball-tie was becoming unbearable. The three prisoners ended up standing in a line, facing Matt.

“Some intensive labouring was required from us, but the general effect our toiling created is definitely enough of a reward. Why shouldn’t we have a bite to gather some strength again before we go into more punishing of our losing opponents?”

Lewis’ suggestion was well-received by Fred and Phil, and they went to sit at the table. Fred took their picnic out of the rucksack.

‘A curious feeling of déjà vu,’ Billy thought. ‘I just hope it will end up as well as it did when we played the treasure hunt last month in Saint Sebastian.’

He tried to reassure himself as much as he could, since the situation was dire. Twisting around a bit, he felt no flaw in the way the ropes had been laid around and knotted. Just enough slack to let the blood flow freely, but none to allow for undertaking an escape attempt. The months of training were now bearing some results. Still, as he was not one to surrender, he kept on trying. Sometimes the weak point was not obvious and needed some time to be investigated and found. That’s what Matt had just experienced, and he hoped he would be able to go through before Lewis’ keen eye found out how he could still bring the victory to the other side.

At the table, the spirits were high. A festival of wit was taking place, with Lewis setting the bar high, of course. His latest fancy was to pose as Oscar Wilde, and he was good at playing the part. The others did not succeed as well, but they went for it nonetheless, which could only be very annoying for the other party, standing in their ludicrous pink shiny outfits.

“Should we feed our captives, Lewis?” Fred asked.

“No, why should we? Look at the unpleasant looks they cast down on us. Why should they be fed as they’re already fed up?”

The guffawing of male teenage voices at their most stupid erupted. The prisoners stood stoically, as there wasn’t much else to do.

Lunch was eventually over, and the infernal trio rose and gathered around the bound and gagged ‘cheerleaders’, bumbling as a cloud of bees around a pot of honey. Philip picked up a bag he had tossed down when he’d brought the costumes.

“What would cheerleaders be without their pom-poms?” he smirked.

He set to work and fixed the big fluffy accessories to the ropes that went above his prisoner’s shoulders. Once he had thus added insult to injury, the ‘leader’ delivered another one of his speeches.

“Though our scheme was expertly crafted and capably executed, I still am awestruck at how fast we managed to prevail. I definitely wouldn’t want to put the blame on any weakness of yours, and I’d much prefer reflect on our sense of tactics and apt coordination. Nonetheless, our fair-play shouldn’t prevent us from experiencing some communal celebration, my friends and I. And as it was customary in Ancient Rome, our triumph should coincide with a parade of the prisoners that were brought back from the battlefield. You’re in no condition to parade, are you lads? I guess not. But you may dance and cheer us up with some enthusiastic chants. They will be muffled, indeed, but they might be a nice accompanying tune for this afternoon of great achievement. I suggest you sway as your bonds allow, and sing ‘Lewis, Philip and Fred are our masters, praise be to them.’ Will you please entertain us this way?”

The three prisoners looked at him with equally surprised looks. This was dumb! Were they expected to do that?

“Oh, you will sing, my little birdies, you will sing. Will you be so kind as to get the items that will ensure an entertaining performance, Phil?”

Crouching down on the bag that seemed an endless supply for opportunities to humiliate their prisoners yet further, Philip then stood back up holding three six-foot long satin ribbons, as pink as the rest of the outfits. They were fast dealt to each of the captors, who went into a ribbon-tying contest. The length was sufficient to do three turns around the lower face. Care was given to the activity.

“It will look nicer than the tape.” Fred commented as he meticulously swathed Ben’s lower face in the thin, supple and soft material, making sure each layer didn’t form any crease, and that it would hold no matter what.

“Yes, it will. And no only does it beget an aesthetic effect that will be most pleasing to the eye, but I think it also bears some interesting acoustic enhancement, as our cute cheerleaders –or so I was told- are also accomplished singers.” Lewis added as he was also wrapping Keith’s jaws with glimmering satin.

“Mmmmbllmm,” his patron reacted.

“What did I just tell you? Young Keith is eager to display his vocal talents. Doesn’t the pink add to the intensity of his green eyes?”

They were done with adding insult to injury. The ribbons had been tied in big bows; Billy’s was tied on his neck, Ben’s under his ear, and Lewis had knotted the bow over Keith’s mouth, just under his nose. He turned to Philip and winked.

“Should you get the baton for our unruly friends?”

He then had a look at the frightened look of the three gagged boys. The loud moans confirmed that there was genuine concern over the turn of events. Though he’d have enjoyed causing further distress, Lewis enjoyed even more a good play on words.

“Oh, you might be misunderstanding me, girls. I’m not referring to the baton that the riot police could use to crack the skull of protesters. Of course, considering that you played such a nasty trick on me dressing me up as a maid, you know deep down that you deserve to incur my rightful wrath. But I don’t derive any uncanny pleasure from inflicting pain…”

“No, you don’t.” Philip confirmed, having gone to the back of the room to get the stick he’d used to coax Billy all the way to the pavilion they were now all gathered in. “But, well…”

“You do?” Fred asked.

“We all know our Phil has some taste for whipping or flogging his helpless foes. But he’s also a civilized being, able to master his dark leanings and obey the rules. So, his baton should be seen as this of a conductor. Music, art, these are the fields that we are into this very afternoon. I’d say that he’s unlikely to inflict any unsavoury treatment upon your sorry behinds, unless… Unless, of course, you do not perform in a satisfactory manner.”

And thus the “performance” started, with the three ‘conductors’ laying out the ‘score’ as the three defeated boys had to comply with their every whim. The sentences they had to mmph changed and were all occasions to praise the merits of their captors, whereas the ‘choreographies’ they had to perform ranged from preposterous to demeaning.

Billy rationalized that it would have to end at four, as had been said in the letter Lewis had left for them in the morning. It had to be soon, though he feared that the delight their predicament occasioned to Lewis and his pals could get the ordeal to last longer. He took comfort in sharing this awful punishment with Ben and –of course- Keith.

Lo! The three victors had gotten much too engrossed into debasing their opponents. They should have paid more attention to the new recruit, whom they had completely forgotten, even though he was never more than six feet away from them. Matt came back to their mind when they heard a voice, youthful yet mature, pronouncing what could have been a magic formula. Sadly enough for Lewis and his friends, this magic formula signed the end of their triumph.

The six words they heard sealed their fate for the day: “Scientia non habet inimicum nisp ignorantem.”

TBC
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Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

Nicely done.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
snowylocks
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Post by snowylocks »

These stories are rather sweet and nostalgic in a way. Really like all the characters.
Bondwriter
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Post by Bondwriter »

Hey Snowylocks. Glad these stories bring back memories.

Here are the last chapters posted on the old site. Next week there will be material that has never been posted, with the introduction of new characters.

25. Chasing the Cold Winter Away

The words that resounded in the room froze the ongoing entertainment for a couple seconds that seemed to last for an eternity. Lewis had jumped on Matt swiftly, hand-gagging him while mumbling some uneasy justification.

“He didn’t say the exact phrase that… Erm… I mean… It’s too late anyway, and…”

The uneasy look from Fred, and Phil rolling his eyes in disapproval convinced Lewis that there was no way out of this one. He removed his hand from Matt’s mouth. There wasn’t much more to say. The new recruit had gained control over the whole setup. Lewis didn’t voice it out loud though. Pride prevented him to say anything more. An awkward silence lingered on for a few seconds, until Matt realized he was expected to take over.

“I think the captive scientist managed to get the secret message through. Now, why don’t you release the other side’s cheerl… uh, secret agents.”

Philip and Fred reluctantly set off unknotting the ropes that bound the three prisoners, as Lewis undertook to untie Matt.

“I thought we had gagged you thoroughly enough, Matt,” Lewis said as he removed the piece of tape that still clung to Matt’s cheek, and then rid him of the small soggy bag that hung pitifully.

“I managed to chew off the ribbon that kept the bag in my mouth. From there, wetting the tape to spit the thing was child’s play.”

“I’m utterly glad the bag was sewn solidly and that you didn’t manage to rip the little sack with these sharp little teeth of yours, my friend, for if these grains had emptied in your throat… I can’t imagine how distressing this would have been for us.”

“Yeah, and lethal for me! Thanks for your concern over my safety,” Matt sniggered, “but you would’ve acted fast, no? And I made sure I chewed the ribbon only.”

Billy, whose gag had also been removed, kept a stately tone to voice out his reproach.

“Really, Lewis, such safety matter should be thought of before. I also wonder about the use of sedatives to make sure you could kidnap Matt without having to meet any resistance from us…”

“Nothing in the rules forbids it,” Philip protested, coming to his friend and mentor’s rescue.

“Then the rules need to be changed,” Ben piped in.

“Yes,” Keith added, while putting his tracksuit on, “we haven’t covered all possibilities in the rules, but this definitely falls under cheating in my book.”

Lewis draped himself in a lordly silence, hoping his accomplices would take on themselves to get him out of this unpleasant situation. Sadly enough for his Highness, they didn’t counter the attacks that went on.

“Yeah, disabling your opponents with drugs is sneaky, not to mention dangerous,” Billy scolded. “I hope the three of you are not too surprised that this evening will be revenge time. And tomorrow, we should play an honest Capture the Flag, basic, no cheating. And we should change the teams too.”

Keith darted his green eyes on Billy, puzzled by such an announcement.

“Yes, K., I like being on your team and stuff. But these are games we’re playing. If it goes on like this, we’ll have two rival gangs, and with Lewis’ taste for drastic measures,” he said while looking at the great doe eyes wide open with indignation, “I’m afraid it will end up badly.”

“Not at all, my friend, not at all! I will confess to being a bit on the competitive side, but I’m a good sport too. Our small deceitfulness was just meant to enhance the game by having you in charge of rescuing the poor victim of a ruthless kidnapping, that’s all.”

He paused, and saw his audience was listening. His nature had to take over, and even in a position of defeat, his bluster had to go on.

“Isn’t it ironical that the poor kidnap victim actually saved the day for skilled, seasoned TuGGers like you, Ben, Keith and Billy?”

A wide grin revealed his white teeth as he pointed to each of his opponents in turn. The shrug from Billy prevented Keith from getting into some more verbal joust; then Ben took the boys back to some more immediate concerns.

“My grandparents will soon be waiting for us for dinner. Of course, you’d planned to free us to get there soon anyway?” he asked, turning to Fred.

“Of course we had!” Fred replied, with so much self-confidence that it sounded fishy. It was more than likely that it had not been part of the actual plans of the winners.

The pavilion was cleaned up of all traces of their coming, and they took a walk through the darkening woods. The cold and foggy air smelled of dead leaves; distant coal and wood fires could be sensed also. Billy thought they were into winter for sure, even though the action-filled day had taken their minds away from any earthly concerns. The little troop stopped at the cottage they had slept in the night before. They dropped their equipment; they made sure they were presentable for dinner and headed to the farm’s main building.

Keith and Billy were trying to come up with something to warn Lewis and his cronies of what they could expect on their way back, but it was Ben who spoke out.

“Don’t you guys think you’re off the hook. I think this is a perfect occasion to give Matt an idea of what an after-game is like.”

Matt who’d been rather quiet and keeping to observing what was going on under his eyes, did approve.

“I sure would like to test the techniques I learned today for restraining someone on a chair.” The ensuing chuckle resounded ominously in the misty forest, which dusk didn’t make too welcoming.

“A pink skirt!” Keith said. “A pink skirt!” He then repeated these words a third time, but the tone had subtly changed from entertained to threatening. As they reached their destination, Lewis had trouble hiding his concern. He knew he’d somehow made the other team quite eager for payback, and he also knew they were as creative as he was. The pleasant whiff of the rustic cooking that assailed him as he entered Ben’s grandparents’ house soothed his anguish temporarily.

Ben’s grandfather did notice that his grandson’s flamboyant friend was not as bubbly and effusive as the day before. There wasn’t much talk anyway, except for some discussion of them making the costumes —Ben didn’t like to lie, but it was for a greater good—and taking a long walk through the estate.

After an impressive amount of food was swallowed, three of the boys proposed to help cleaning up the table and doing the dishes. The very subtle nod from Billy a few seconds before this kind offer wasn’t noticed by the couple of elderly guests, but Philip, Fred and Lewis picked up the unspoken message.

After politely parting, all seven boys walked back to the cottage. This time, the silence was ominous. Sombre thoughts were running through the head of the trio who, just a few hours before, thought this would be a day of complete victory.

The seven lads entered the cottage, with very different mindsets.

“I think some of us should change before we go on,” Billy said, pointing at the cheerleaders’ costumes. “How do you think we should exert our victors’ rights, Matt?” he then asked.

“Erm… Should we really have them wear these?” Matt said, looking contemptuously at the pink outfits, and nonchalantly pushing the hair that fell in front of his eyes.

“No payback, uh?” Keith wondered, concerned about the tenderfoot’s ability to get into their games.

“Oh, yes, I’m all for a payback,” Matt replied in a laugh that didn’t do any good to soothe the three defeated boys’ anxiety. “It’s just that we could show a little more creativity than using their own ploy.”

“You’re not going to have us in the nude?” Lewis’ alarmed voice meekly enquired.

A frank and joyous laughter welcomed his question.

“Of course not! To please my own little fancy, I’d want you to wear the regulation shorts and socks, and your school uniform’s white shirt.”

Philip, Fred and Lewis looked at him, puzzled.

“Fast!” Matt ordered with an authority that he had not displayed thus far. Soon they were standing in a line, the white shirts impeccably tucked into the shorts. The mix of styles did not confer them as much ridicule as the girly garb, but it did look somehow inappropriate.

“Hands behind your backs,” Matt commanded. He was immediately obeyed. Ben, Keith and Billy were quick to tie the crossed hands. More rope at the elbows and at the shoulders, and most possible resistance was hampered.

Matt came closer to Lewis, whom Keith had bound. “It’s impressive how one can be brought down a peg or two in such a short time.”

“I’m just displaying some sort of fair-play. I know to admit I lost, and you won’t be able to thwmmmmbllMMM!” he protested vehemently. But Matt’s graceful hands muffled his reply mercilessly.

“I don’t think I want to hear any more of this logorrhoea,” he said, insisting on the last word, infuriating Lewis who just mmphed even more eagerly and shook his head. But Matt’s hands had a firm grip on his head.

“This is getting fun; Ben, would you bring some stuff to gag such a big mouth?”

“Sure,” Ben replied, “I can even give you a hand.”

Lewis was now showing some obvious signs of rebellion, and as he tried to kick Matt to have him let go off of his head, Keith grabbed his thighs, and quickly looped his ankles with a short piece of white rope, while commenting:

“Yes, I can understand your frustration, Lou, but guess what? You lost, and you don’t have much of a say in what Matt decided for you.”

Ben had gathered the necessary items for their silencing endeavour.

“OK, free his mouth, Matt, so I can get this inside,” he said bringing a substantial mass of white cloth to Lewis’ lips. The hand being removed strangely caused Lewis not to want to open his mouth anymore.

“If you’re going to be difficult,” Matt said while pinching Lewis’ nose. Lewis didn’t want to submit easily, which was even more enjoyable. But one can only hold one’s breath for so long; he had to eventually open his mouth, though he tried to keep jaws locked, just parting his lips. Matt immediately covered his mouth again.

“Don’t be daft, Lewis. I’m not into suffocating boys, but the longer it takes, the harsher the whipping will be!” And he removed his hand, the brown eyes widening in awe.

“Whippmmmmph!” Lewis tried to complain, which allowed Ben to stuff the ball of material inside Lewis’ gob.

“Nice one, Matt! Great trick!” Ben piped.

“Who told you it was a trick?” Matt said as he tied a silk scarf over Lewis’s mouth to prevent him from spitting the gag out. He turned to Ben and winked. He then had a look at the two other prisoners. They looked straight in front, pretending they were not aware of what was going on. Matt knew enough now to understand that the apparent lack of reaction certainly hid some surprise; but displaying it would give too much glee to their opponents.

“A good conductor should ‘sing’ properly too…” Matt sniggered, looking intently at Philip to remind him of the nasty part he'd played a few hours earlier; but he still wouldn’t budge. Keith was reassured by Matt’s ability to get into the general spirit.

Matt then took a roll of tape to put the finishing touch on Lewis’ gag. The two other captives gave way less trouble to the little gang, not wanting to aggravate their situation. Keith and Billy were now standing in front of the little party; they just enjoyed the show, which was very entertaining, as Philip and Fred were equally reduced to silence. They then eagerly listened to Matt as he got on disclosing his plans on what was to take place next.

“As I said earlier, I'd like to see if I've learned something from being tied up today. I had way enough time to think of a few things before I got rescued!”

“Hey, that's not fair, we-”

“Hold on, Kay, the sarcasm wasn't intended for us...”

“Thank you, Billy; I had three hoodlums to look at. I must say I had time to visualise them in interesting positions. But I don't know for sure who I want to see in which. So I guess a little game is in order to decide who does what. I want to try out the ball tie. It seems to be the most unpleasant one, so the first to lose will have to go with it. Then a hog-tie, and lastly a nice, taut chair tie is in order.”

“And what game are you going to have them play to decide who gets which?” Ben asked.

“Oh, enough of wits for today, we'll go for plain skills this time. Could you please get a goblet, a pitcher of water and a salad bowl from the kitchen, Ben?”

“Right away, Matt!” Ben had no clue what these would be used for, but he was quite eager to find out. The three competitors-to-be stoically waited, wondering whether Matt would get them drenched in water, entertainment for which this was not the best season.

“I don't have anything too fancy in mind. I'm just curious to see how you handle moving around with your hands in your back. And a goblet in your hands.”

As Ben came back, Matt took the salad bowl from his hands.

“Can you put the goblet on the table and fill it with water?” he asked as he himself crossed the room and set the bowl at waist level on an empty bookshelf. “Don’t fill it to the brim; our contestants need a doable task.”

As he neared the three-quarter full glass, Matt took a permanent marker from his trousers’ pocket. He crouched to have his eyes level with the water and carefully drew a thin line to mark how the glass was filled. He stood up and, looking intently towards the three bound and gagged contenders, he launched into a lively speech.

“From what I know, the little Saint Sebastian club has practiced escape artistry a lot. This is all fine and dandy, and it is a much needed skill in case you do get caught by thugs. But we need to also train to move around while in bonds. Say for instance, you have been captured by terrorists, and the only way you’ve got to stop a ticking bomb is to fill the water bowl over there to disconnect the firing mechanism…”

The never-heard of mechanism got a sigh and a very visible roll of eyes from Lewis.

“Lewis? You think this isn’t serious? You may go first, then. That is, once your hobble has been loosened a bit… The one with most water brought over three trips wins.”

Keith had already understood what was expected from him and he was kneeling to lengthen the rope between Lewis’ ankles.

“Perfect,” Matt commented, “three inches it’ll be. Enough to allow some walking, and to require some attention.”

He had grabbed the glass of water and put it between Lewis’ hands.

“Got it? A firm grip on things? Nice. Then go ahead and don’t spill a drop!”

If there was one skill Saint Sebastian boys had developed over time too, it was to read the facial expressions on a face that was half-hidden by various layers of clinging material. And concentration could clearly be perceived on Lewis’ face. He took some small steps, and was obviously focusing on not tilting the glass. His slow progression was followed by cheers and advice from the viewers.

“Yeah! You’re almost there!”

“Nice strut, miss!”

The sniggers were not the cause of a single grunt. Lewis was aiming towards the bowl, which he reached slowly. He twisted and wriggled again to avoid having a single drop leak out, and poured the content of the glass in the basin. He turned around and cast a defiant look towards his captors before heading back to the starting point.

He went for two more perilous journeys, but he didn’t flinch at the mockery and calls.

“Ben, could you get a funnel and three empty water bottles?” The host obliged, and Matt poured the content of the salad bowl inside the first bottle.

It was then the turn of Fred, and Philip came last. But as the three bottles were lined up, they all had a rigorously equal level.

“It’s a tie!” Matt said as he turned towards the competitors. “I’m not surprised, of course…” he smirked at them. “But this won’t do. We need a first, a second and a third. So, let’s add another constraint: time.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, “you said the clock was ticking. So let’s have the biggest volume of water per second win!”

It was an approval from all the audience. Even Lewis and Fred nodded somehow. They’d noticed Philip had been particularly slow, so maybe they could actually avoid being the one who’d end up ball-tied by a gang of vindictive opponents.

So they took their turn again, with Billy using the timer on his watch to record the performance of them. This time, a little water was spilled, but as Philip was called to get ready, the volume of water in the bottles was almost similar. Both Lewis and Fred had managed to go a bit faster than the first time around, and still manage not to get much water on the tiled floor.

Once Philip was given his first glass, he surprised everybody by a bold move; holding the glass with his left hand, he covered the top as much as he could with the right one. Then he leaped. In five leaps he had crossed the room, whereas the two others had taken cautious mincing steps! Using the same strategy for his two other crossings, he turned towards his two opponents, a look of triumph in his eyes.

Billy transferred the liquid the black-haired boy had managed to salvage, as Ben frantically wiped the puddles that had formed with this second run. Billy scribbled down a few figures, to get the final results of the little test. His grin was admiring as he turned towards Phil.

“Quite a clever tactic there, Phil. Of course, coming up last, it was easier to assess, but this was clever nonetheless. You took five times less than your mates to do the job, so even with much more water spilled you’d have won anyway.”

Turning towards a wider audience, and eager no to lose a bit of Lewis’ likely reaction, he went on. “So the results are: first Phil, as I just said, then Fred, and last but not least… Lewis!”

“The perfect guinea pig for my ball-tie experiment!” Matt joyfully added.

Of course, the general mirthful atmosphere was not exactly shared by all. As always in similar cases that were getting to be frequent, Lewis used a technique to rationalise what was to happen: he was already thinking of how he’d get his revenge even before he’d been wronged.

And was he actually wronged. The trussing-up that followed proved to be expertly and rightfully performed, with Ben, Keith and Billy providing some excellent advice concerning the web of ropes that proved Lewis was flexible enough to touch his chin with his knees while having the balls of his feet brushing his buttocks.

He soon had the company of a hogtied Fred a couple feet away, and Phil overlooked them from the chair to which he was carefully united with taut, snug rope.

Matt wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Blimey! This is quite a chore to take care of our friends. I feel like going to bed, untying them seems much too tiresome for me doing it today.”

The concerned grunts that ensued told him his tone had been convincing enough. Lewis and Fred, in particular, were buying his bluff and now relied on the other members to explain this wasn’t to be done. It took a while before Billy made clear that they wouldn’t be left like this for the whole night, enough to pour some more taunts and mockery upon the prisoners’ heads. A little longer was taken for comments on the technique used by Matt to truss up the three opponents, and they were eventually released. There were sighs of relief.

“Goodness, Matt,” Fred whined, “that was TIGHT…”

There was a faint smile over Matt’s face, and he took his most innocent look, with the little frown he knew was considered cute to utter a naïve. “Really?”

Lewis, recovering from the stringent ball tie, was stretching and had decided not to let his feelings take over. He yawned, and said, “Well, this wasn’t too bad. For a neophyte, I mean. I think we may call it a day. Of course, let’s declare a truce until eight tomorrow morning, and the planned Capture the Flag.”

Seeing the suspicious looks from Ben, Keith and Billy, Lewis looked at them wide-eyed both, his mouth slack and his lips twitching.

“Why? You don’t believe me, do you? This makes me very, very sad.” His tone carried the message as much as his face did.

“Mmh,” Keith replied, “But of course we do! But I’ll lock the bedroom door anyway.”

“If this may comfort you,” Lewis sighed.

Some idle chit-chat went on for a bit longer, and they all got back to where they had slept the night before. Lewis made the solemn promise Matt would be able to enjoy a peaceful night, and soon everybody was sound asleep.

The next morning, Lewis was first to wake up, and he eagerly went downstairs, to fix breakfast for everyone. He opened the curtains, only to discover a leaden-coloured sky, and a steady rain falling. He cursed to himself and got to making tea. Once everything was ready, he went back upstairs, opened the doors to the rooms, and taking a few steps back to the landing, he took his breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs: “GOOOD MOOOOORNING!”

Chuckling from seeing the motionless bodies covered in blankets being animated by his trumpeting voice, Lewis added with a sugary tone, “Breakfast is ready, boys! And we have a long day ahead, don’t we?”

Various insults and threats ensued, but Lewis was already merrily hopping back downstairs. The rest of the Saint Sebastian party soon joined him, but they were none too bubbly until after a healthy breakfast. Then the poor weather was discussed.

“Do you really think the Capture the Flag game should be on?” Matt asked.

“I can do with the cold, but the rain…” Fred replied.

The boys all voiced out a similar concern, since none of them felt like spending time getting soaked by the cold rain while being trussed up to a tree. While their reluctance to go outside was discussed, Phil’s mind wandered around as he pictured himself tied to a tree wrapped in a long rubber mac and boots, just wearing his shorts; he smiled. Lewis spoke last.

“If it was only for me, I wouldn’t see any inconvenience in having some outdoors fun. We aren’t made out of sugar, after all. But I’m more than willing to submit to the majority decision. I hope we can reach some consensus on how we should occupy ourselves until this evening when we get back to Saint Sebastian.”

“This cottage is a bit small for a chase or anything that involves running around.” Keith stated.

“Yeah, we’d have to think of something…” Billy contemplated, his frown revealing he was thinking really hard.

“Let me see,” Matt said as he rummaged in shelves lined besides the chimney, “Isn’t this a Risk game? Aren’t you all players? We might make a variation up.”

“One that involves tie-ups?” Ben asked, puzzled. “Like last time when Lewis and Phil watched us playing.”

“Not like this,” Matt said, “if they didn’t play in the first place and were already tied up.”

Phil didn’t interrupt Matt to retell how it had actually gone down. He thought it wiser to prod him into moving on in his explanation. Fresh ideas were always interesting.

“How would you play, then?”

“We can make it simple. I mean, we’re seven, and the game can be played by six people at the max. So, we could have a two-team game, and every time a country’s won, then the team that loses has a hostage tied up.”

“Hum, this might work,” Billy approved. “Then can the prisoner be freed by regaining the country?”

The discussion went on for ten minutes, with everyone pondering over the implications of the rules they were making up. Eventually, they decided that the teams would be made according to their first names’ alphabetical order, which meant Ben, Billy and Fred would face Keith, Lewis, Matt and Phil. The rules implied that the potential hostage would be designated before the dice would be rolled in an attack, and that the goal of the game was to capture three players of the other team.

In their eagerness to get started, what would then happen next was not discussed. Some people on each side had actually thought about this, but they didn’t raise the question as they had ulterior motives on their minds.

The two parties sat around the table and three boys faced four. Each side received half of the deck, and they started placing armies on the territories they had gotten. The strategy had to be somehow different, since their objective was not to conquer a particular subset of the board but to defend each territory from being seized. Hence the repartition of the armies on the particular territories was the object of much thought and whispered confabulations.

The forces were quite evenly spread, and it seemed obvious that luck would keep on playing a major role in the rest of the game. Eventually, both sides were lined facing each others at the table and the first round started.

There were a few provocations and taunts, but overall everyone was focused on the ongoing game. It took seven turns of minor losses before the dice decided to have a territory captured by the smallest team. As Phil had been designated to be the hostage, the temporarily winning trio set to grant him an honest and serious chair tie.

Fifty feet of rope were sufficient to guarantee he wouldn’t be able to move, and three scarves and a couple feet of white surgical tape ensured he wouldn’t be able to advise his team mates. The ten minutes it took to enforce the penalty got some snide comments uttered, but Lewis paid more attention to the board than to his friend’s ordeal, since he was up against Billy, and if he could live with being a victim of bad luck, he at least didn’t want to make a poor move.

The game went on smoothly and quietly. Both sets of belligerents managed to get some reinforcements. Billy’s team did get more, thanks to having the right cards dealt to them. It was twenty minutes later that Siam was lost by Lewis and his two partners. It was Keith’s turn to be tied up; he ended up trussed up to the supporting pole ten feet away from the playing table.

There was more boisterous boasting this time, as the web of ropes was woven around the pole and its associated boy, and sighs and sniggers from the other side, kept rather low-key as Lewis had signalled to Matt that there was a flaw in their opponents’ defence.

“You see, Kay,” Billy said in his most ominous villain voice, “it’s showing respect to an opponent to bind him tightly; it shows you consider he would be able to run away before he gets fed to the alligators!”

The moan that followed meant that the joke was not considered funny, but with a ball of cloth previously stuffed in his mouth by Ben, Keith had to just take this belittling humour without any protesting. The game could go on, as he was now solidly bound and gagged, and in no state to part from the pole soon.

Lewis and Matt rejoiced over the fact that Billy had apparently missed the fact that Kamchatka was quite vulnerable. As he launched the attack, Lewis looked at Billy who blanched.

“You’re really adamant on joining Keith in his ordeal? You wish you’d volunteered instead of the poor chap we’re about to bind?” Lewis asked, pointing at Fred with his chin, as he was the one to become the hostage would they lose the battle.

There were some fierce dice rolls in the next minutes, and Fred sighed as his fate was eventually sealed. He frowned at Billy who sported a victorious smile. The battle had weakened the opponents’ position in Asia, which meant winning Ural in the next round would certainly be easy.

Aware of Fred’s frown at a team mate rejoicing about him ending up trussed up like a chicken, knowing Lewis and Matt would certainly not go easy on him, Billy discretely winked to let him know his smirk was caused by the opposing party. A quick glance towards the board signalled Fred that the game was the cause for his good mood. His sacrifice would be short, hopefully.

As it had been discussed beforehand, there was now a choice to be made for the conquerors of Ural. They could either make a prisoner or free one of theirs. The choice was quickly made, as Lewis turned towards his two friends who had fallen prey to the rigorous tying up performed by their enemies.

“Do not take it wrongly, my friends, but it would appear that it’s more important to make prisoners so we can get a quick victory. Your stoically remaining captive will ensure that Matt and I are able to roll out my clever strategy until the three little weasels are properly captured.”

The protests were dampened by the gags, but Philip really tried to get his word across, which was a complete failure. He had seen that things did not look too bright for his team on the board, and he would have liked to point out where they should use reinforcements to secure their positions better. Alas, his concerned mmphing did not yield the expected result.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, my friend, I know you can show some patience. I promise you that once we win, you may pick any of our captives to have your fun with.”

Matt and Lewis displayed some sleight of hand as they made short work of restraining Fred on a chair in a custom similar to the one that had been used on Philip; they made promises of a much tougher future for their next prisoner. Ben and Billy said nothing, letting the bragging go on, as they had realized that unless the dice were really against them, they’d end up making a captive in the next round.

Lewis was now certain that the tables were being turned, and he even offered himself as the next hostage as he sat back to the table. Twenty-eight seconds went on before he regretted his chivalric move. When Ural was attacked, he crossed his fingers that he’d be luckier than Ben and Billy with the dice.

This wasn’t sufficient, though; he couldn’t cross his toes to give him the extra luck he needed. A five being higher than a four, and a four being higher than a two, the swift attack was successful. Ben used his acting talent to look genuinely sorry for Lewis. But his enthusiasm in managing a well-crafted ball tie later on disproved any real feeling he might have had. Neither did his initiative for a thorough and well muffling gag. Two scarves were balled up and crammed into the flamboyant leader’s mouth.

Billy approached with what would be the finishing touch on the silencing compound. Sticky tape and a roll of gauze to mummify his head completed the set-up, framing the boy’s face with regular, symmetrical patterns.

“So, Matt, I guess the game is over. We won. We didn’t decide on this particular situation, and maybe you can still save the day.” Billy announced. Matt knew that any deal with his Saint Sebastian friends was risky, but it was tough to chicken out if he was offered to free his team mates. He listened to what Billy had to say.

“We’re nice guys, so it’ll be no surprise we offer you to play on. Every time you win a battle, it’s your call to have one of us tied up or one of your friends freed. Of course, if you lose one, you know what’s in store for you.”

This sudden change in rules triggered some muffled questions and reactions; Matt could not make out whether they were reproaches to the antagonists or encouragements for him to go on. He chose the latter, and locking his eyes into Billy’s, he agreed to keep playing.

Oblivious to what could only be interpreted as protests coming from Lewis, who now realized that not discussing the aftermath before the game started was a poor move, Matt sat back at the table next to Philippe who, for obvious reasons, had not stood up to witness the balling up of Lewis.

He’d had time to analyze the board, and was appalled by Matt falling into Billy’s trap. His desperate grunts apparently bore no effect on Matt who was oblivious of his warning. They now had at least two highly vulnerable countries, which meant that Matt’s freedom should be short-lived. Sadly enough for their team, Phil’s analysis was correct. Less than thirty minutes later, Matt had gotten united to the remaining supporting pole, wrapped in rope and his full mouth sealed by numerous layers of tape and cloth.

At this point only could Ben and Billy mention what was to happen next, as they released Fred from his chair tie.

“Now that we won the day, what should we do with our prisoners?” Ben asked. Billy lengthily caressed his chin with his long fingers.

“Do you think they have any intelligence we might need, Ben?”

Fred answered the question, as his Ben was busy disposing of the spittle-covered piece of cloth he’d just removed from his friend’s mouth.

“I doubt very much they have anything interesting to say. Best thing to keep busy is to leave them bound and gagged and torture them, if you ask me.”

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought of this myself,” Billy hypocritically stated, “but this sure is an interesting idea.”

As Ben came back, he noticed the signs of discomfort Lewis displayed, as he was holding his position on the cold tile, the strictness of the ball tie starting to get its toll. Ben moved to the table, and after having gone around his chair and casually patted Philip’s head, he started picking the armies, the cards and the dice, and he soon had the table tidied.

“I hear you, my friends,” he said as he put the box away in its dedicated cupboard a few feet from the table, “let’s start with their general. Give me a hand, it’ll be easier to handle him once spread-eagled over the table, don’t you think?”

Lewis had mixed feelings about their sudden attention. He was relieved to get a more comfortable position, especially since he was wondering when nasty cramps would start kicking in, and he knew it was a matter of minutes, but it was likely that they would show some creativity in whatever torture they would come up with.

They untied the ropes that kept his knees to his chest and his ankles to his butt, and let him stretch over the hard cold floor for a few minutes. They then picked him up and frog-marched him to the table. Facing the shortest side of the table, he was bent at the waist so his chest would touch the varnished wood. Fred and Ben picked up his bound ankles, lifted them and pushed him forward so he would fully lie over the table.

The little winning trio undertook their knotting endeavour quite joyously, addressing in turns the prisoner they were working on and his three brothers-in-ropes, who could only squirm and grunt dejectedly as the possible torture scenarios were dealt with one by one.

Once the legs formed an immovable Y, with five rings of ropes wrapped on each and anchoring him to the piece of furniture, they similarly took care of his arms. Lying face down on the wood, he was powerless to react to the comments being made.

“Nice butt, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, these shorts give him a nice figure!”

“Look how it’s sticking up, like if our Lewis wants a spanking…”

“Mmmmgrmmlll!!!”

There was very little wriggling around to accompany this complaint. The ropes prevented any move outside the stretched out position.

Billy turned to Ben, who’d referred to the spanking.

“This is tempting. But wouldn’t it be more fun to tickle him for a while?”

“Yeah,” Fred said, “Lewis can take pain better than tickles. Tickling would be fun.”

Ben smiled. “I’d say let’s go for both, but majority rules. D’you know where he’s the most ticklish?”

“I bet Phil does!” Fred replied.

The three inquisitors turned towards Phil, who writhed uneasily on his chair as the bonds allowed.

“Do you?” Billy asked Phil, who neither nodded nor shook his head.

“Mmmrphhtphhhmmm…”

“Darn,” Ben sighed, “he’s going to give us his ‘I’m not a traitor’ act. Not much choice for us, hey?”

Billy thought that he actually knew from previous games where Lewis was the most ticklish. Ben and Fred had to know too. But torturing it out of Phil was indeed a better way. Ben didn’t need a prompt, he’d come close to Phil, and slowly approached his open hand towards his chest.

His fingertips brushed ever so lightly the nylon-covered chest, and once he’d gotten some reactions, his hand moved slightly south. Alternating between the flanks and the belly, he managed to get Phil to writhe around. Ben and Fred joined him, and soon the sounds of the muffled laughter and of the creaking chair filled the room. They stopped as Phil’s face turned crimson, and they asked him the proverbial question.

“Ready to talk?”

Philip was recovering, and once his heavy breathing got more regular, he looked at them defiantly and shook his head. The victors exchanged some meaningful glances; a new bout of tickling ensued. It led to a similar result, which caused Ben to suggest a change in the interrogation technique used. He fetched some pheasant feathers in a cupboard, while Billy and Fred untied the legs from the chair, leaving the ropes at ankles and knees, and then removed shoes and socks to have an easy access to the prisoner’s soles.

While they got Phil to almost suffocate in a record time, he still stubbornly refused to give up. The look he got from Lewis, helplessly laid on his table, was quite grateful.

“No use wasting our time with this one, he’ll pay later on. Let’s get to Lewis and find out for ourselves.” Billy declared.

Armed with a feather each, the three executioners turned back to Lewis. They had some fun tickling the inside of his thighs and his flanks, which were sensitive areas, but seen the position he was in, they could not get to work on what they knew would yield the most results, namely the spot just underneath his navel. After having him wriggle ever so faintly with the confines of his restraints, Ben suggested to get him in a position in which he’d be more fully exposed.

They soon made a decision: the balcony overlooking the room would make an excellent anchor for ropes to suspend him. The work was carefully divided, and they got to the task which left Lewis on tiptoes, wrists and elbows tied and raised above his head, a rope harness wrapping his torso, and ankles, knees and thighs equally restrained. His wrists were linked to the balcony by a rope which bore very little strain as most of the weight was supported by two ropes tied to the rope harness. Though it looked impressive, it would be possible to keep him like this for a little while. Cramps in the shoulders and arms could appear, but it was quite unlikely.

The position thus unwillingly adopted by Lewis was then extended to his team mates.

“Quite a nice bag we’ve hunted!” Fred said as they were eventually done with tying all four opponents in their vertical position.

“I’ll say, they’ve got quite a precious position, like ballerinas with their feet arched like this!” Ben exclaimed.

Of course, this new row of taunting didn’t please its recipients. But the torturers’ laughter covered the objections dampened by the gags. Keith’s comment on ballerinas not usually dressed in nylon shorts and jerseys were none too intelligible.

“Hey, it’s already half past one!” Fred exclaimed.

“Time flies when you’re in good company…” Billy added.

“Some lunch, maybe?” Ben suggested. He acted on his offer and headed to the small kitchen to get the food he’d been given the night before.

The three captors sat at the table. Billy wondered out loud whether the place where Lewis had laid should be disinfected, which caused a reply that sounded like the threat of a dire payback, but the tone was more ominous than the actual verbal message. This concern for sanitization did not yield any actual cleaning action; the food was put into disposable plates anyway. Once done with their frugal meal, the three boys thought of the prisoners.

“Yeah,” Ben said, “I guess we should have them get some marmite sandwich and crisps. We’re not barbarians.”

It took a long time before they got to Lewis, who was last in line – well, he was first also, but they started on the other side. Removing the gag, feeding the captive, gagging him again, it was no small task. When they eventually got to the verbose leader, who’d had to remain silent or misunderstood for over two hours, the removing of the gag brought some very different reaction. His three friends had patiently waited and had not made a fuss, but, wouldn’t you know it, Lewis did let his anger come out noisily.

“You, bunch of barmy wallies! You’re getting your revenge in advance for the punishment you’ll receimmmmph!”

“Lewis, my friend,” Billy said as he crammed the wadding back into Lewis’ mouth, nodding to Ben to get on with the tape, “your reasoning is flawed. We’ve been able to give you some payback all the time. But since you won’t learn your lesson…”

“No lunch for you.” Fred sombrely concluded.

It was already quite late. They had time for one last game only. It was Ben’s idea. He grabbed a length of rope, and faced the four tied up boys, who were starting to feel a bit sore from standing with their arms stretched above them. He tied a big know at the end of the 5-foot long length of cord. He crouched down and started swinging the rope from left to right and back. The knotted bit passed close to the prisoners’ feet.

“OK, first one to get hit by the rope gets a ball tie!” Ben chirped.

Fred and Billy watched this interesting after-meal exercise with interest. Ben was a fair rope-swinger, as he kept the pace even and made sure the rope stayed close to the floor. It made the jumping to avoid it an even better show, since the prisoners got into the groove and managed fairly well to avoid the cotton snake trying to bite their legs.

“How much do you bet Lewis’s going to lose again?” Billy asked Fred.

Coincidence or not, this comment almost coincided with Philip not able to get away from the rope’s path. He got the final ball tie on a blanket spread over the tiles at his friends’ feet, and a short tickling session followed, before everybody was eventually released.

A discussion on the dishonesty of Billy’s team was loudly carried out as the boys all got busy collecting their stuff and tidying the place they’d been gracefully lent. They wondered if they would have another game in the evening once they’d be back to Saint Sebastian, but they eventually decided against it, since the weekend had been knotty enough.

They thanked Ben’s grandparents wholeheartedly; they greeted Billy’s and Philip’s fathers before they got into the two cars that were to take them back to their beloved House. After a few minutes, four of the seven boys actually dozed off, and they didn’t party all night long once they were back to the dorm.

It had been a fun weekend.

“Good night, lads,” Lewis said before they retired to their private quarters, “it’s been fun, and I’d bet there are more fun times like this ahead. Thanks to Matt for new ideas. I hope we have more new members to our club to have even better games.”

They all hoped this wish would come true. And little did they know that it would…

26. Risk Management

The next morning, Lewis was first to wake up, and he eagerly went downstairs, to fix breakfast for everyone. He opened the curtains, only to discover a leaden-coloured sky, and a steady rain falling. He cursed to himself and got to making tea. Once everything was ready, he went back upstairs, opened the doors to the rooms, and taking a few steps back to the landing, he took his breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs: “GOOOD MOOOOORNING!”

Chuckling from seeing the motionless bodies covered in blankets being animated by his trumpeting voice, Lewis added with a sugary tone, “Breakfast is ready, boys! And we have a long day ahead, don’t we?”

Various insults and threats ensued, but Lewis was already merrily hopping back downstairs. The rest of the Saint Sebastian party soon joined him, but they were none too bubbly until after a healthy breakfast. Then the poor weather was discussed.

“Do you really think the Capture the Flag game should be on?” Matt asked.

“I can do with the cold, but the rain…” Fred replied.

The boys all voiced out a similar concern, since none of them felt like spending time getting soaked by the cold rain while being trussed up to a tree. While their reluctance to go outside was discussed, Phil’s mind wandered around as he pictured himself tied to a tree wrapped in a long rubber mac and boots, just wearing his shorts; he smiled. Lewis spoke last.

“If it was only for me, I wouldn’t see any inconvenience in having some outdoors fun. We aren’t made out of sugar, after all. But I’m more than willing to submit to the majority decision. I hope we can reach some consensus on how we should occupy ourselves until this evening when we get back to Saint Sebastian.”

“This cottage is a bit small for a chase or anything that involves running around.” Keith stated.

“Yeah, we’d have to think of something…” Billy contemplated, his frown revealing he was thinking really hard.

“Let me see,” Matt said as he rummaged in shelves lined besides the chimney, “Isn’t this a Risk game? Aren’t you all players? We might make a variation up.”

“One that involves tie-ups?” Ben asked, puzzled. “Like last time when Lewis and Phil watched us playing.”

“Not like this,” Matt said, “if they didn’t play in the first place and were already tied up.”

Phil didn’t interrupt Matt to retell how it had actually gone down. He thought it wiser to prod him into moving on in his explanation. Fresh ideas were always interesting.

“How would you play, then?”

“We can make it simple. I mean, we’re seven, and the game can be played by six people at the max. So, we could have a two-team game, and every time a country’s won, then the team that loses has a hostage tied up.”

“Hum, this might work,” Billy approved. “Then can the prisoner be freed by regaining the country?”

The discussion went on for ten minutes, with everyone pondering over the implications of the rules they were making up. Eventually, they decided that the teams would be made according to their first names’ alphabetical order, which meant Ben, Billy and Fred would face Keith, Lewis, Matt and Phil.

They quickly cleaned and dressed into proper Saint Sebastian attire to be ready for the upcoming activities. Ben added wood in the fire to ensure they would be comfortable. Though even if not running around all the time, they were bound to be involved into some action.

The two parties sat around the table and three boys faced four.

The rules implied that the potential hostage would be designated before the dice would be rolled in an attack, and that the goal of the game was to capture three players of the other team. This would make for the difference in numbers between the two teams.

In their eagerness to get started, what would then happen next was not discussed. Some people on each side had actually thought about this, but they didn’t raise the question as they had ulterior motives on their minds.

Each side received half of the deck, and they started placing armies on the territories they had gotten. The strategy had to be somehow different, since their objective was not to conquer a particular subset of the board but to defend each territory from being seized. Hence the repartition of the armies on the particular territories was the object of much thought and whispered confabulations.

The forces were quite evenly spread, and it seemed obvious that luck would keep on playing a major role in the rest of the game. Eventually, both sides were lined facing each others at the table and the first round started.

There were a few provocations and taunts, but overall everyone was focused on the ongoing game. It took seven turns of minor losses before the dice decided to have a territory captured by the smallest team. As Phil had been designated to be the hostage, the temporarily winning trio set to grant him an honest and serious chair tie.

Fifty feet of rope were sufficient to guarantee he wouldn’t be able to move, and three scarves and a couple feet of white surgical tape ensured he wouldn’t be able to advise his team mates. The ten minutes it took to enforce the penalty got some snide comments uttered, but Lewis paid more attention to the board than to his friend’s ordeal, since he was up against Billy, and if he could live with being a victim of bad luck, he at least didn’t want to make a poor move. Plus if he used the time gained by Philip’s sacrifice to study enough to get an advantage, so it was not time lost.

The game went on smoothly and quietly. Both sets of belligerents managed to get some reinforcements. Billy’s team did get more, thanks to having the right cards dealt to them. It was twenty minutes later that Siam was lost by Lewis and his two partners. It was Keith’s turn to be tied up; he ended up trussed up to the supporting pole ten feet away from the playing table.

There was more boisterous boasting this time, as the web of ropes was woven around the pole and its associated boy, and sighs and sniggers from the other side, kept rather low-key as Lewis had signalled to Matt that there was a flaw in their opponents’ defence.

“You see, Kay,” Billy said in his most ominous villain voice, “it’s showing respect to an opponent to bind him tightly; it shows you consider he would be able to run away before he gets fed to the alligators!”

The moan that followed meant that the joke was not considered funny, but with a ball of cloth previously stuffed in his mouth by Ben, Keith had to just take this belittling humour without any protesting. The game could go on, as he was now solidly bound and gagged, and in no state to part from the pole soon.

Lewis and Matt rejoiced over the fact that Billy had apparently missed the fact that Kamchatka was quite vulnerable. As he launched the attack, Lewis looked at Billy who blanched.

“You’re really adamant on joining Keith in his ordeal? You wish you’d volunteered instead of the poor chap we’re about to bind?” Lewis asked, pointing at Fred with his chin, as he was the one to become the hostage would they lose the battle.

There were some fierce dice rolls in the next minutes, and Fred sighed as his fate was eventually sealed. He frowned at Billy who sported a victorious smile. The battle had weakened the opponents’ position in Asia, which meant winning Ural in the next round would certainly be easy.

Aware of Fred’s frown at a team mate rejoicing about him ending up trussed up like a chicken, knowing Lewis and Matt would certainly not go easy on him, Billy discretely winked to let him know his smirk was caused by the opposing party. A quick glance towards the board signalled Fred that the game was the cause for his good mood. His sacrifice would be short, hopefully.

As it had been discussed beforehand, there was now a choice to be made for the conquerors of Ural. They could either make a prisoner or free one of theirs. The choice was quickly made, as Lewis turned towards his two friends who had fallen prey to the rigorous tying up performed by their enemies.

“Do not take it wrongly, my friends, but it would appear that it’s more important to make prisoners so we can get a quick victory. Your stoically remaining captive will ensure that Matt and I are able to roll out my clever strategy until the three little weasels are properly captured.”

The protests were dampened by the gags, but Philip really tried to get his word across, which was a complete failure. He had seen that things did not look too bright for his team on the board, and he would have liked to point out where they should use reinforcements to secure their positions better. Alas, his concerned mmphing did not yield the expected result.

“Phil, Phil, Phil, my friend, I know you can show some patience. I promise you that once we win, you may pick any of our captives to have your fun with.”

Matt and Lewis displayed some sleight of hand as they made short work of restraining Fred on a chair in a custom similar to the one that had been used on Philip; they made promises of a much tougher future for their next prisoner. Ben and Billy said nothing, letting the bragging go on, as they had realized that unless the dice were really against them, they’d end up making a captive in the next round.

Lewis was now certain that the tables were being turned, and he even offered himself as the next hostage as he sat back to the table. Twenty-eight seconds went on before he regretted his chivalric move. When Ural was attacked, he crossed his fingers that he’d be luckier than Ben and Billy with the dice.

This wasn’t sufficient, though; he couldn’t cross his toes to give him the extra luck he needed. A five being higher than a four, and a four being higher than a two, the swift attack was successful. Ben used his acting talent to look genuinely sorry for Lewis. But his enthusiasm in managing a well-crafted ball tie later on disproved any real feeling he might have had. Neither did his initiative for a thorough and well muffling gag. Two scarves were balled up and crammed into the flamboyant leader’s mouth.

Billy approached with what would be the finishing touch on the silencing compound. Sticky tape and a roll of gauze to mummify his head completed the set-up, framing the boy’s face with regular, symmetrical patterns.

“So, Matt, I guess the game is over. We won. We’re supposed to take care of you too; but we like playing, and to make it a bit longer, maybe we can let you try to save the day.” Billy announced. Matt knew that any deal with his Saint Sebastian friends was risky, but it was tough to chicken out if he was offered to free his team mates. He listened to what Billy had to say.

“We’re nice guys, so it’ll be no surprise we offer you to play on. Every time you win a battle, it’s your call to have one of us tied up or one of your friends freed. Of course, if you lose one, you know what’s in store for you.”

This sudden change in rules triggered some muffled questions and reactions; Matt could not make out whether they were reproaches to the antagonists or encouragements for him to go on. He chose the latter, and locking his eyes into Billy’s, he agreed to keep playing.

Oblivious to what could only be interpreted as protests coming from Lewis, who now realized that not discussing the aftermath before the game started was a poor move, Matt sat back at the table next to Philippe who, for obvious reasons, had not stood up to witness the balling up of Lewis.

He’d had time to analyze the board, and was appalled by Matt falling into Billy’s trap. His desperate grunts apparently bore no effect on Matt who was oblivious of his warning. They now had at least two highly vulnerable countries, which meant that Matt’s freedom should be short-lived. Sadly enough for their team, Phil’s analysis was correct. Less than thirty minutes later, Matt had gotten united to the remaining supporting pole, wrapped in rope and his full mouth sealed by numerous layers of tape and cloth.

At this point only could Ben and Billy mention what was to happen next, as they released Fred from his chair tie.

“Now that we won the day, what should we do with our prisoners?” Ben asked. Billy lengthily caressed his chin with his long fingers.

“Do you think they have any intelligence we might need, Ben?”

Fred answered the question, as his Ben was busy disposing of the spittle-covered piece of cloth he’d just removed from his friend’s mouth.

“I doubt very much they have anything interesting to say. Best thing to keep busy is to leave them bound and gagged and torture them, if you ask me.”

“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought of this myself,” Billy hypocritically stated, “but this sure is an interesting idea.”

As Ben came back, he noticed the signs of discomfort Lewis displayed, as he was holding his position on the cold tile, the strictness of the ball tie starting to get its toll. Ben moved to the table, and after having gone around his chair and casually patted Philip’s head, he started picking the armies, the cards and the dice, and he soon had the table tidied.

“I hear you, my friends,” he said as he put the box away in its dedicated cupboard a few feet from the table, “let’s start with their general. Give me a hand, it’ll be easier to handle him once spread-eagled over the table, don’t you think?”

Lewis had mixed feelings about their sudden attention. He was relieved to get a more comfortable position, especially since he was wondering when nasty cramps would start kicking in, and he knew it was a matter of minutes, but it was likely that they would show some creativity in whatever torture they would come up with.

They untied the ropes that kept his knees to his chest and his ankles to his butt, and let him stretch over the hard cold floor for a few minutes. They then picked him up and frog-marched him to the table. Facing the shortest side of the table, he was bent at the waist so his chest would touch the varnished wood. Fred and Ben picked up his bound ankles, lifted them and pushed him forward so he would fully lie over the table.

The little winning trio undertook their knotting endeavour quite joyously, addressing in turns the prisoner they were working on and his three brothers-in-ropes, who could only squirm and grunt dejectedly as the possible torture scenarios were dealt with one by one.

Once the legs formed an immovable Y, with five rings of ropes wrapped on each and anchoring him to the piece of furniture, they similarly took care of his arms. Lying face down on the wood, he was powerless to react to the comments being made.

“Nice butt, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, these shorts give him a nice figure!”

“Look how it’s sticking up, like if our Lewis wants a spanking…”

“Mmmmgrmmlll!!!”

There was very little wriggling around to accompany this complaint. The ropes prevented any move outside the stretched out position.

Billy turned to Ben, who’d referred to the spanking.

“This is tempting. But wouldn’t it be more fun to tickle him for a while?”

“Yeah,” Fred said, “Lewis can take pain better than tickles. Tickling would be fun.”

Ben smiled. “I’d say let’s go for both, but majority rules. D’you know where he’s the most ticklish?”

“I bet Phil does!” Fred replied.

The three inquisitors turned towards Phil, who writhed uneasily on his chair as the bonds allowed.

“Do you?” Billy asked Phil, who neither nodded nor shook his head.

“Mmmrphhtphhhmmm…”

“Darn,” Ben sighed, “he’s going to give us his ‘I’m not a traitor’ act. Not much choice for us, hey?”

Billy thought that he actually knew from previous games where Lewis was the most ticklish. Ben and Fred had to know too. But torturing it out of Phil was indeed a better way. Ben didn’t need a prompt, he’d come close to Phil, and slowly approached his open hand towards his chest.

His fingertips brushed ever so lightly the nylon-covered chest, and once he’d gotten some reactions, his hand moved slightly south. Alternating between the flanks and the belly, he managed to get Phil to writhe around. Ben and Fred joined him, and soon the sounds of the muffled laughter and of the creaking chair filled the room. They stopped as Phil’s face turned crimson, and they asked him the proverbial question.

“Ready to talk?”

Philip was recovering, and once his heavy breathing got more regular, he looked at them defiantly and shook his head. The victors exchanged some meaningful glances; a new bout of tickling ensued. It led to a similar result, which caused Ben to suggest a change in the interrogation technique used. He fetched some pheasant feathers in a cupboard, while Billy and Fred untied the legs from the chair, leaving the ropes at ankles and knees, and then removed shoes and socks to have an easy access to the prisoner’s soles.

While they got Phil to almost suffocate in a record time, he still stubbornly refused to give up. The look he got from Lewis, helplessly laid on his table, was quite grateful.

“No use wasting our time with this one, he’ll pay later on. Let’s get to Lewis and find out for ourselves.” Billy declared.

Armed with a feather each, the three executioners turned back to Lewis. They had some fun tickling the inside of his thighs and his flanks, which were sensitive areas, but seen the position he was in, they could not get to work on what they knew would yield the most results, namely the spot just underneath his navel. After having him wriggle ever so faintly with the confines of his restraints, Ben suggested to get him in a position in which he’d be more fully exposed.

They soon made a decision: the balcony overlooking the room would make an excellent anchor for ropes to suspend him. The work was carefully divided, and they got to the task which left Lewis on tiptoes, wrists and elbows tied and raised above his head, a rope harness wrapping his torso, and ankles, knees and thighs equally restrained. His wrists were linked to the balcony by a rope which bore very little strain as most of the weight was supported by two ropes tied to the rope harness. Though it looked impressive, it would be possible to keep him like this for a little while. Cramps in the shoulders and arms could appear, but it was quite unlikely.

The position thus unwillingly adopted by Lewis was then extended to his team mates.

“Quite a nice bag we’ve hunted!” Fred said as they were eventually done with tying all four opponents in their vertical position.

“I’ll say, they’ve got quite a precious position, like ballerinas with their feet arched like this!” Ben exclaimed.

Of course, this new row of taunting didn’t please its recipients. But the torturers’ laughter covered the objections dampened by the gags. Keith’s comment on ballerinas not usually dressed in nylon shorts and jerseys were none too intelligible.

“Hey, it’s already half past one!” Fred exclaimed.

“Time flies when you’re in good company…” Billy added.

“Some lunch, maybe?” Ben suggested. He acted on his offer and headed to the small kitchen to get the food he’d been given the night before.

The three captors sat at the table. Billy wondered out loud whether the place where Lewis had laid should be disinfected, which caused a reply that sounded like the threat of a dire payback, but the tone was more ominous than the actual verbal message. This concern for sanitization did not yield any actual cleaning action; the food was put into disposable plates anyway. Once done with their frugal meal, the three boys thought of the prisoners.

“Yeah,” Ben said, “I guess we should have them get some marmite sandwich and crisps. We’re not barbarians.”

It took a long time before they got to Lewis, who was last in line – well, he was first also, but they started on the other side. Removing the gag, feeding the captive, gagging him again, it was no small task. When they eventually got to the verbose leader, who’d had to remain silent or misunderstood for over two hours, the removing of the gag brought some very different reaction. His three friends had patiently waited and had not made a fuss, but, wouldn’t you know it, Lewis did let his anger come out noisily.

“You, bunch of barmy wallies! You’re getting your revenge in advance for the punishment you’ll receimmmmph!”

“Lewis, my friend,” Billy said as he crammed the wadding back into Lewis’ mouth, nodding to Ben to get on with the tape, “your reasoning is flawed. We’ve been able to give you some payback all the time. But since you won’t learn your lesson…”

“No lunch for you.” Fred sombrely concluded.

It was already quite late. They had time for one last game only. It was Ben’s idea. He grabbed a length of rope, and faced the four tied up boys, who were starting to feel a bit sore from standing with their arms stretched above them. He tied a big knot at the end of the 5-foot long length of cord. He crouched down and started swinging the rope from left to right and back. The knotted bit passed close to the prisoners’ feet.

“OK, first one to get hit by the rope gets a ball tie!” Ben chirped.

Fred and Billy watched this interesting after-meal exercise with interest. Ben was a fair rope-swinger, as he kept the pace even and made sure the rope stayed close to the floor. It made the jumping to avoid it an even better show, since the prisoners got into the groove and managed fairly well to avoid the cotton snake trying to bite their legs.

“How much do you bet Lewis’s going to lose again?” Billy asked Fred.

Coincidence or not, this comment almost coincided with Philip not able to get away from the rope’s path. He got the final ball tie on a blanket spread over the tiles at his friends’ feet, and a short tickling session followed, before everybody was eventually released.

A discussion on the dishonesty of Billy’s team was loudly carried out as the boys all got busy collecting their stuff and tidying the place they’d been gracefully lent. They wondered if they would have another game in the evening once they’d be back to Saint Sebastian, but they eventually decided against it, since the weekend had been knotty enough.

They thanked Ben’s grandparents wholeheartedly; they greeted Billy’s and Philip’s fathers before they got into the two cars that were to take them back to their beloved House. After a few minutes, four of the seven boys actually dozed off, and they didn’t party all night long once they were back to the dorm.

It had been a fun weekend.

“Good night, lads,” Lewis said before they retired to their private quarters, “it’s been fun, and I’d bet there are more fun times like this ahead. Thanks to Matt for new ideas. I hope we have more new members to our club to have even better games.”

They all hoped this wish would come true. And little did they know that it would…

TBC
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Carnath
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Post by Carnath »

Still loving it.
I thought the sedative was a great idea. For a fictional story, that is :)
The Brotherhood
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My Bondage Academia

If you want to support me and allow me to commission more illustration and write more story, you can donate to my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/carnath_gid
snowylocks
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Post by snowylocks »

It's like Enid Blyton writing GID fiction. :)

(is it just me, or does some text repeat in the last chapter ?)
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Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks for the comments, Chloroboy & Snowylocks. As for the text repeating itself, I can't quite figure out the issue. I'm glad people enjoy the story.
From now on, I'm posting episodes that haven't been posted before. They feature more characters yet.

27. Celebrations

The weeks whirled by, bringing the boys closer to the Christmas break. Some evenings were scheduled, as for most clubs in the Saint Thomas More School for Boys, to celebrate the holidays before everybody would join their families.

The Saint Sebastian boys were having some last tie-up workshops before their own celebration, on the eve of their departure. Work was often performed by the same pairs, or groups of three, and a special-themed Christmas party was to be thrown, with Santa Claus getting to bind his elves. This had been discussed earlier on, around Halloween. It was decided, with Travis in attendance, that the boy with the best school reports would play the parts of Santa Claus; Billy had convincingly argued that they should base the evening on the Dutch version.

It told of Sinterklaas, or Santa Claus, but also of Zwarte Piet, or Black Pete, who was Santa’s sidekick who rewarded good boys and took naughty ones away in his sack. Having no special interest in playing the role of an elf, Billy had argued that his own background, with ancestors in the Low Countries, would see more possibilities. Only one person to handle all the group was too little. Everybody agreed; Lewis was confident that Fred would be his companion, but Billy also reckoned he would be among the two best students of their House.

When the school reports came, two days before the little event was to take place, a meeting took place after school in the Prefects’ room of the dorm. It was of course Lewis and Billy who had the best school reports. There was some bickering about who should be Santa and who should be the bad guy; Lewis argued that he would make for a better Black Pete, whereas Billy thought his background gave him the right to play the traditional Dutch character.

Travis didn’t let the debate swell for too long.

“I don’t see why you’re arguing, the one with the best average gets to choose.”

Such wisdom met popular approval, and a more detailed comparison of the reports gave Billy the right to make a decision.

“You’ll be a nice Santa, Lewis. Ho! Ho! Ho! Let the verbose Santa garrulously travel the sky over his bombastic sleigh.”

Lewis was miffed at not having scored the best, and not having Fred as a sidekick. Phil would have been even better, but he knew in advance his friend didn’t stand a chance in academic matters. The challenged leader cast a dark look at Billy. He would have to pair with the pompous twit. Lewis had sometimes acknowledged his fellow club member’s qualities, but still, he’d have preferred someone else to enact his grandiose plans.

There wasn’t time for long exchanges anyway, as the winners had also earned the right to be the evening’s models. The rest of the gang jumped on them and roped them the right way for a few revisions on hogties. Phil and Matt were particularly ferocious in their tickling, with Philip twisting Lewis’s nipples to have him howl through the rubber bladder full of dough that had been used as gag wadding, and the five layers of tape and scarves sealing his lips shut and locking his jaws.

Keith saw to it that Philip didn’t come close to Billy, but they’d had the discussion before, and Billy hated having Keith argue in his favour during club games. So he let Matt tickle him, with tickles that soon were more like fondling. Matt’s goal was to see Billy’s shorts inflating, and his handling, his villain talk and his description of Billy’s plight reached their objective.

The next evening, Lewis and Billy met in the Prefects’ room. They were intent on planning a revenge worthy of the previous evening’s happenings. The unofficial club hall had been booked just for the two of them so they could plan the next day’s celebration. Without an audience, Lewis turned out to be bearable, and Billy without Keith was similarly easier to deal with than when he was with his friend.

After fifteen minutes, both boys were quite complicit; the next hour saw lots of note-taking and planning, and they spent another two hours checking the equipment they needed was available. They went to bed way after eleven; Travis had granted them a longer curfew. Lewis fell asleep with the scenario they had designed rolling out in his head in Technicolor.

The next day, all the club’s members were very excited after tea, at five thirty. They gathered in the attic behind the dorm. It had been decorated with a few garlands, and the Christmas tree that was on the landing had been brought inside. It was reasonably warm, so the elves were wearing their costumes. They’d all been instructed to have green stockings and long-sleeved T-shirts.

Lewis was wearing the school’s Santa costume, with red coat, fake belly and sack over the shoulders. Santa bound the elves’ wrists behind their back one by one, with Zwarte Piet picking gagging material from his boss’ sack and stuffing their mouths with red or green scarves, cleave-gagging them with red ribbon, and doing an X over their lips with two pieces of tape, one red and one green.

“Now we have a quiet audience,” Santa said from behind his cotton beard, “My good friend Pete here will assess whether you’ve been nice or naughty. Listen carefully to his instructions, your fate depends on them.”

Their fate had been decided the day before by the two accomplices, but it had to be introduced in what Lewis called a ‘playful and engaging manner’. Billy agreed with Lewis that time.

Billy had rubbed some burned corked over his face, but he didn’t go any further into enacting Zwarte Piet as a stereotypical black guy. Billy’s own experiences had given him an awareness of diversity. His role-play was more on the abducting qualities of the character.

“I will lay my magic hand over your lips, and you will have to answer my questions honestly. I will then know if you’ve been nice or naughty, and I will deliver you my label. Those who will fall into my sack will see what entertaining ways I use to punish naughty boys and help them to mend their ways.”

He headed to Philip. Travis didn’t attend, so the nature of the questions the two event organizers had thought of were slightly explicit. As the answer didn’t matter much, they felt safe in doing so without anybody breaking down in tears.

“Have you wanked more than once a month, Phil?”

“Mmmh mm mf.”

Philip saw no point in lying, though masturbation was seldom spoken of in the large group, there had all confided in each other about their specific and techniques, as usually happens in all-boys dorms. There had been a few group wanks then and again, but it was a by-product of their true passion.

Billy tied a red ribbon around his neck. He moved on to the next boy in line.

“Ben, did you steal swimwear this year?”

“Mmm,” Ben replied, using the code requested to answer yes and no question. This had been the start of their adventures, so it belonged to the club’s lore. The number of swimwear pieces got higher every time the story was told.

Billy tied another red ribbon around his neck.

He laid his hand on Keith’s head.

“Nice boy, good.”

He tied a green ribbon around his neck. He went to Fred and Matt and deemed them nice too.

“The nice boys are going to be taken to the toys factory by Santa. The naughty boys are going to stay with me so I may show them what role they are to have in our play.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho! Follow me, my lads.”

They had been spared the humiliating questions, but was there another ploy Lewis and Billy had in store? They walked in a file behind the cheerful Santa, who was ringing a bell as he bellowed encouragements to go faster.

“Well, my naughty boys, for tonight’s game, you will have to be turned into baubles. This is Christmas, we have garlands and trees, but no baubles…”

Billy took out the rope from a bag they’d put there the day before with Lewis. He undertook to get both of the ‘naughty’ boys into tight ball-ties, starting with Philip. Threading, lashing, just like at practice, but it always felt much better in an official game.

Their timing was proper; as Lewis entered, asking if he was done, Billy was tying the final knot behind Ben’s back, which would make him a tight ball as his fellow boarder was already.

“I’ve got the others blindfolded in the hall. Let’s haul them up.”

Pulleys had been installed, with electrical motors. The build was sturdy, and it had mostly been handled by Travis. Two hooks at the end of the wire came down when Lewis pushed on the switch.

“You’ve done their harnesses as we said, right?” Lewis asked.

Billy had an impatient nod and a shrug. Lewis passed the hooks through loops Billy had made in the boys’ backs. The switch was reversed, and the boys were lifted from the floor. There were grunts as it wasn’t very comfortable, especially at the beginning, once they were no longer touching the ground, Billy’s careful rope work relieved them from most of the strain. The motor stopped when their heads were at their friends’ eye level.

“Just perfect, two very cute little trinkets. Should we wrap their faces for this festive occasion?”

“Of course, Santa. Naughty boys should at least be well-groomed. Then maybe they’ll behave and won’t require any handling by me next year.”

Zwarte Piet fetched more tape and swim caps to wrap their head in an artful lay-out of red vinyl tape and ribbons of various colours. It could have been Easter, as Philip’s and Ben’s heads were skilfully swathed in a symmetrical network.

“All ready for the elves… You look lovely, dears, don’t change anything.”

Lewis went to bellow his ritual cry, followed by “Time to get in, my faithful elves, and time to find which bauble is who, from our two young punished boys.”

The gang entered in single file, guiding his steps upon those of the boy in front. Except of course for Fred who led the way; he was familiar with his whereabouts, yet the blindfold made him weigh any of his moves cautiously.

“You’re getting warmer, Fred. You may hurry up, the others. Not too bad Keith…”

The coaxing lasted until all of the boys had eventually found the location of the two baubles. They used their nose, ears and sense of touch to assess who was who. Matt took a little longer to find the group.

Then they gathered replies, going from one boy to the other, and confusing them with double negations in questions they had to answer in the customary binary way.

The grunts the boys kept emitting in reaction to the faces brushing against their ball-tied bodies didn’t help much to locate them as they were really close to each other.

The blindfolds were removed, and the elves couldn’t but acknowledge Zwarte Piet’s artistic talent.

Then the elves were freed.

“We’ll release you so you may have your share of the fun with Philip and Ben. If you’re charitable and feel the Christmas spirit, maybe you could free them so they join us for some punch.”

Santa had taken out bottles of fruit juice which he mixed in a large pitcher. He was glad to see that the Christmas spirit didn’t make the elves lose all sense of the gang’s values.

“I’m not sure,” Matt said, “It’s not obvious at all that they have learned their lesson. They might not even be grateful for a kind gesture like this.”

“Yes, once they’re stuck as they are with their mouths well shut, we know they can’t strike back.”

So it was another hour of cheers –and some playful jeers– before the baubles were taken down. They didn’t have to wait for long to get their revenge as no one wanted to stop the party. An improvised hojo-jutsu workshop enabled Phil to get back to Matt in a rather nasty way.

The night was short but full of vivid dreams for all; they were sad to part the next day, with Lewis rationalizing that two weeks wasn’t this long after all.

Of course, the Saint Sebastian boys did get to spend some time with at least one of their friends; nevertheless they all eagerly returned to school. The first few weeks of January also saw the coming of two new members into the little club, Nicholas and Sora. Having crossed the ocean to get a proper education in England, both boys had been convinced to join Saint Thomas More School for Boys and get their accommodation in Saint Sebastian. No luck was involved. They had inside connections, and this had been planned almost since the beginning of the club.

The integration process was going smoother and smoother; after less than a month, it seemed that Nicholas and Sora had always belonged to the gang.

Sora had gotten to know about Saint Sebastian through Matt. They had met a few years before when Matt had visited the South of the United States. He had entered a major comic books convention more or less by chance, where he had gotten acquainted with Sora. They had exchanged letters afterwards, and Sora had visited him the summer before. Matt found out the hard way about Sora's taste for tape. His bubbly dark-haired friend was quite the expert on all things tape-related. He was quite enthusiastic to join the group, and having like-minded friends helped not to feel homesick.

Nicholas had been a pen-friend of Keith for a while. He’d been raised on a big farm in Argentina, and he had to go to boarding school before he would get a higher education. Six months of subtle lobbying had convinced his parents that a British boarding school would be the best. His parents didn’t know about the skills that he’d developed with his friends on the farm the summer before, when along with his cousin Tyler and their friends, they had played a two-week long series of games.

However, these skills would certainly be quite useful for joining the Saint Sebastian House. They had allowed him to pass the initiation with flying colours, as had Sora. His experience had taught him how to bind a proper knot and how to best silence a feisty prisoner. The fact he’d been on the receiving end quite a few times had actually honed his ability to be a worthy tugs player.

The snow was falling outside; it had been since noon. Both newcomers were in the club’s dedicated room behind Travis’ quarters, their faces almost stuck to the window pane their breathing was fogging the glass; they didn’t get tired of this most exotic show.

“Crapcakes! This is some super awesome show! Kidney pie doesn’t beat a good shrimp gumbo, but this is WAAAYYY better than the thunderstorms that scare me pooless!”

TBC
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Post by Veracity »

New chapters? Hooray!
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Happy to know there are people expecting the new stuff. So here is more of the never before posted content!

28. Attacks

Lewis smiled inwardly at the amazement the newcomers were experiencing. He had entered the room unnoticed along with Fred and Keith. Soon Phil and Ben joined them; they made some noise, which broke the spell the two American boys were under.

“What’s happening outside?” Ben asked, unable to fathom what could be so fascinating with dusk falling on the park.

“Our good friends from across the pond have been mesmerized by this spectacular display Mother Nature offers their simple souls, I reckon.”

Nicholas went on thinking really hard of something clever to say, but he didn’t have Lewis’s gift of the gab; English not being his mother tongue, it didn’t make it any easier to engage in a verbal duel. He didn’t need to actually find something clever to say, as they were interrupted by Billy entering the room dripping wet. They all turned to him; they could see right away something was wrong.

Keith jumped on his feet, rushing towards his best friend. He could see how upset Billy was. Even Lewis just stayed mum; the red eyes and the sniffing meant tears. Too bad the atmosphere had suddenly frozen down, stopping him from seizing such an opportunity to bring Billy down. Hands-on experience had proved Lewis was slowly getting the idea that payback was a bitch indeed, and that sometimes shutting up was not only safe, but also necessary not to antagonize the other lads. Listening for a bit could prove tactically sound.

Billy looked up, now more and more aware of being the centre of attention. Keith stood by his side, a supporting hand on his shoulder. He’d have hugged him, but this was a bit too wimpy for the audience they had. He didn’t know how to break this awkward moment, but he was lucky enough to have Ben take care of this in his good-hearted way.

“Uh, did you fall in the snow, Billy?”

Billy looked at Ben, all the sadness of the world plastered over his face for a furtive moment. He turned around, displaying the back of his light blue winter jacket, on which ‘poofter’ had been written in big red letters. Nicholas and Sora were well versed enough into the British vernacular to understand the implication of such language. The latter didn’t take it too kindly to such bigoted attacks and let his indignation overflow with his original expletives.

Lewis came next to Billy and laid a hand over his shoulder.

“It’s not time for pointless anger, Sora. If there’s something here at Saint Sebastian we don’t do, it’s talk when we should be acting. So let’s think quickly, and act swiftly!”

Sora was still in awe of Lewis. His talking annoyed him, at the same time he admired Lewis’s poise. And if there was a team that was to pick his brains to find a clever way to retaliate against some bullies, he could be counted in.

A creative brainstorming session took place, with revenges involving honey, insects, water, entombment and thrashing. Billy put an end to the flow of torture projects.

“Knock it off, lads. There’ll be plenty of lawful ways to get back to them. No need to fall as low as them.”

There was a short discussion; Billy eventually got his way, sure to crush the cricket ass-wipes with his school reports. There were doubts as to the potency of such a defeat, but wisdom prevailed, and it was decided to send a delegation to let them know that any further attack would be strongly retaliated against.

The next day, Billy and Lewis stepped up to the Boar and two of his goons who were leaning against a wall in the shade. Billy got his little speech out quickly; the boys looked at him with wide eyes, surprised of being told they were bullies, that they were wrong, and, final provocation, that any aggression would bear dire consequences for them.

The older boys looked at them incredulously, wondering if they should just go and punch the little git, but not feeling any solidarity from their mates, they stood still. The rest of the gang was in the background, and they outnumbered the cricket players.

Lewis and Billy turned around, with their mission accomplished.

In the mind of Jason ‘the Boar’, Billy’s little speech triggered a will to counter-attack. He convinced his friends Donovan and Mark to play a good prank on one of these poseurs at Saint Sebastian. This was exactly the type of entertainment that befitted his two friends, so they planned a crude ‘initiation ceremony’ for Billy’s blond friend, who was too good at sports not to have the bullies jealous.

Two days later, Keith was done with an indoor football practice at the gym. He’d been given the key; he and his team were allowed to access the gym to train. As he was locking the entrance door he heard the rush of a herd. He jumped to his right, trying to pass them on the side, but he was half a second late and the arm of a big guy prevented him from getting his break.

The three attackers weighed four or five times as much as Keith; the way they seized his limbs immobilized him almost instantly. He identified the hand gagging him as this of the Boar! Adrenalin kicked in high.

They brought him down. They were equipped with ropes. They were no Saint Sebastian boys, but the sheer number of coils and the tightness with which they were tightened around the blond boy’s lithe body soon had him a helpless bundle. He could do nothing against the hands that then seized his head to cram a dirty jockstrap in his mouth.

Keith wasn’t too much into underwear; he’d had to endure such gagging before, but it never had felt as nasty as now. Many turns of duct tape were wrapped around his head. Once again, two turns out of three didn’t serve a purpose in making the gag effective, but with fifteen turns he was reduced to silence nonetheless.

Someone had snatched the keys from Keith; they opened the door and bundled him inside. The door was locked behind them.

“So, you Saint Sebastian lads think you’re so special you can come and taunt us, and that we will just sit like idiots and wait?”

“Mmmf Grmph!”

Keith had witnessed the scene from a distance and that the Boar’s statement reflected reality well.

“Well, then, you’ve got another thing coming. I hope you don’t die of fear during your night here, Goldilocks. There’s a rumour the gym is haunted.”

There were rumours that most building at Saint Thomas More were haunted, where there were many occasion to tell scary stories. But for now, ghosts were the least of Keith’s worries. They were dragging him to the wall bars. There had been a few times with Billy, Ben and Matt when they’d played in the gym and had used them for exactly the same purpose Jason now had to bring him next to it: to tie someone up to them.

In a tugs club contest, the Boar wouldn’t have scored much for style. But he had enough mind to know how to use brute rope force to immobilize. He didn’t tell his mates, but he had tied his legs up many times when at home. And he managed to get a good roping that got him through the night without slipping off.

These experiments had to see with his punishment of choice for the cute and lively blond boy. With his tracksuit pulled tight against him by the ropes, Keith looked even cuter. They bound him facing the wall bars, with threats to his backside made repeatedly as they wrapped him in a second network of ropes, pulling him against the bars this time.

There was enough space so his face fitted between two bars, so it didn’t crush against something hard. His head wasn’t fixed to anything, which at least would make it bearable if the idiots really intended to leave him a whole night bound and gagged inside the gym.

It appeared they had made up their minds, as they wished him a good night. The light was switched off, doors were locked and silence and darkness reigned over the large hall. The temperature was reasonable, but it wouldn’t be warm enough to sleep comfortably.

Keith had relaxed and managed to use the ropes binding him as a support to relieve the strain and not add to discomfort that could turn into pain. He was slowly drifting away for what would be a short moment of sleep when the creaking sound of the gym’s door hinges got him fully awake. The bound boy wasn’t superstitious, but he was in the dark in a large place. The sound of the steps he heard was definitely this of a human being. The smell and the voice identified their owner to Keith. The Boar was back.

“Hey, Keith. The others think you’re getting a super nasty punishment. But you can’t stay like this all night.”

Keith was puzzled. The voice hadn’t changed much, though there was no sneering. Jason wasn’t showing off to a complacent audience, as were his buddies from the gang of cricket bullies.

“It’s too risky leaving you on your own all bound and gagged like this. I’m going to get you in a sleeping bag, and you’re just going to have your mouth taped. Then I’ll bind you like this again tomorrow morning, and we’ll pretend you took the whole punishment. My friends will think I’m a real boss.”

He released Keith from the ropes that held him against the bar. He had a sleeping bag, two actually, and he stuffed Keith, bound hand and foot inside, once he’d unbound his wrists and tied them along his body.

Keith had trouble reconciling what was happening with the scenario he’d initially been a victim of. The sheer difference in mass made it vain for Keith to struggle, and the Boar was rather cautious in his handling. He took more time; Keith felt the older boy’s hands linger over some specific spots as his thighs or his buttocks. Tens of questions popped to his mind that he wanted to ask the kid, who acted like he was as gay as a monkey in a banana tree. The Boar didn’t leave him ungagged for long and once the stuffing had been taken out of his mouth his lips were quickly sealed with tape; when he tried to lick it wet to remove it, the Boar clamped his hand over his mouth.

“Hush! You can’t speak a word now. If you don’t behave, I’ll gag you just as before and possibly worse.”

Considering the Boar’s remorse had to do with safety, he doubted Jason would carry his threat out, but there was no need to try. Keith was now more comfortable; he suddenly wondered why none of his friends had yet showed up. He would have been missed at the dorm. But it had been hours now, and still no one to come to the rescue.

On the other hand, he remembered that they didn’t have the key, so maybe there was a search party. With the kidnapper settling inside his sleeping bag, it was more difficult to try something, especially screaming, as there would be very little time before he would be gagged, and Jason hadn’t displayed any reluctance at silencing him so far.

With the hood pulled over his head, lying on his back over the hard floor, the thick padding of the sleeping bag warming him up quickly, and exhausted, Keith fell asleep.

He was left bound to the wall bars at eight the next morning. The Boar had extended his kindness to overseeing a bathroom break before he’d pinned him to the wall again, which Keith had taken without making a fuss. He was to be released soon, and he was planning a few moves ahead, when he would gather with his friends in the Prefects’ room.

So he was found by the first years fifty minutes later. There were a few sniggers, but he was quickly released; he ran back to Saint Sebastian, having barely time to put his clothes on and run to the Anne Boleyn Hall where he had his first class of the morning. As he rushed outside, he fell on Billy.

“Keith! Weren’t you staying at Anne Boleyn’s just so you could work on the project for the math class?”

The boys both rushed to the said building, while clearing up the situation.

“Nope. I was kidnapped by the Boar. Who happens to be quite the fruit in the loom, if you want my opinion.”

“The Boar! But we have solved the issue with Lewis!”

“You just gave him a reason to enact one of his kinky fantasies. The swine knows his craft. He might also have a tie-up radar…”

They reached Anne Boleyn’s and split to get to their different classrooms.

“This calls for a meeting in the Prefects’ room.”

“Sure! I’ll tell the others.” Less than one hour later, all the boys knew they were summoned for an extraordinary meeting that evening.

They were all there five minutes before the official starting time. Keith started telling his previous evening’s adventures. There was some indignation, but Keith had a reputation for bravery; he had honestly not been prey to despair or any negative emotions beside a little initial anger.

What he emphasized, though, was the Boar’s taste for bonds and gags, and his devious leanings towards fondling bound boys. Billy was outraged; others smiled, as they had guessed already what Keith was aiming at.

“So this would be a major target for an initiation. Let’s acknowledge something, boys: the Boar had planned his kidnapping well. He’s managed to fool you into believing I was going over at Anne Boleyn’s, he’s come prepared and with a plan. And he had gathered enough information to pick me up like a flower.”

There was a heated discussion to decide whether the Boar was a ‘total bastard’ or possibly ‘a guy who may be nice once you know him’. Anecdotes of his bullying feats were laced with examples of times when he had behaved not so badly.

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Keith interrupted them all, “as there’s one solution and one only. We have to kidnap him. Flawlessly. For forty-eight hours. And we must make sure this teaches him a lesson or two, so we’d better have some things to keep him busy and entertained!”

This idea was quite consensual. The faction that had sided with Billy for the peaceful resolution of the previous conflict was now wondering how many strokes of the slipper could be given to a pair of buttocks before blood was drawn, which was prohibited by the Code.

It was a festival of ideas, some rehashed from the previous meeting, but what happened then was that an actual project was born. A team was appointed to get Jason to vanish with nobody worrying about it, one was in charge of the abduction, and one was to organize captivity. Lewis and Billy would ‘liaise’ so the whole thing would go smoothly.

TBC
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Post by fratboydanny »

Thank you for posting this story! I am only through Chapter 12 but do I ever wish I had attended this school.
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Post by Bondwriter »

Hey Fratboydanny! I also wish I had been in such a school.
Here is this week's chapter.

29. Retaliation

Jason was looking forward to his weekend. The cricket team was going on a ‘retreat’. It meant there would be a little practice, but what attracted him most was the partying with his buddies. He wondered if he could manage to have one of the lower form boys who belonged to the team ‘initiated’, as these little moments sure were a lot of fun.

A boy whose name he didn’t know had given him a note before the last class; it came from Toby, one of his most fun cricket friends. He was to go to the bike shed; he supposed there would be some beer or possibly a stronger liquor to kick off a week-end of fun.

The Boar hurried to the shed but he couldn’t see Toby once he got there. There was a space behind the building where sometimes people went to smoke. He went there silently to try and surprise his mate. There was no one there though. He came back, willing to wait for a while. He wouldn’t stay for long, though. They were to gather at five thirty to board the mini-van that would take them to the retreat.

He was wondering what he could do while waiting; he didn’t smoke, he hadn’t brought a book and he didn’t have beer to get things rolling. Plus he never did this without his buddies. He was wondering if it was safe to catch a quick wank; the place was remote and private enough that he could do this without being caught. Lots of horny ideas assailed his mind and he was about to fall into temptation when, coming from nowhere, hands and straps seized him and pulled him to the ground before he’d realized he’d had a little issue with gravity. The Boar was a solid mass of flesh. At fifteen he was five feet eleven inches and a solid thirteen stones. Not exactly a lightweight. Yet as he started struggling he felt that bodies were massed upon him and belts or straps had been passed around him; they all tightened and as he tried to kick he felt his legs were bundled together with restraints at ankles and knees, and across his thighs too. His arms had been seized and locked by two people.

As he tried to yell, a hand came over his mouth, clamping itself over it and preventing him from delivering his favourite tirade of insults and threats. This was a rather small hand, and the bodies piled upon him were numerous but not ponderous. He was being assaulted by a bunch of younger kids. In a flash, he saw the many episodes when he’d knocked off a tray at lunch or pushed a kid out of his way, and all these times when he’d made the other boys’ lives miserable.

“Mmmgrmph!”

“Not a peep, the Boar. Your goose is cooked. Resist and you’ll suffer.”

He wouldn’t let the little gits talk to him like this. He kept on shouting, but the hand held fast, and more belts tightened around his chest and arms this time. The hand eventually left his mouth. As he drew in some air, a ball of cloth was crammed in swiftly. He knew how to gag someone but he was surprised it worked on him that well. Then a school tie was used to cleave gag him, it pulled tight against the corners of his mouth and the knotting pulled the material further inside.

Jason struggled even more, but his motions were now severely limited. A blindfold was tied across his face; he realized he was bound, gagged, blindfolded and in the hands of an angry team of boys.

“You’re all ours, the Boar. You’re going to pay for your crimes. Pissing people off cannot go on forever. At some point, when they’re really pissed off, they get back at you!”

He counted five pairs of hands picking him up. As he was lifted from the ground, he stopped squirming; being face down, a fall would be harmful for his nose. They laid him down on some boards. It was wood. When he felt he was moving forward, he knew he was on one of the carts the sports department had to carry equipment across the various fields on the school grounds.

Jason heard steps accompanying his progression, but no voices. His kidnappers remained silent. He hadn’t been able to identify the voice that had spoken to him. These were school boys, and considering the number and the obvious preparation they’d put into it, they didn’t intend to let him use his weapons of choice, Right Fist and Left Fist.

He tried to identify his location and his destination. They were heading towards the gym if his sense of orientation didn’t betray him. It was the gym indeed, the sound of the doors flapping was unmistakable. It took him two weeks in the past, when he himself had kidnapped Keith for the night in the gym. The Saint Sebastian Boys! They were the ones who sought revenge. Keith’s little boyfriend had come and given him orders because he couldn’t stand a few taunts.

There were more hands to pick him up. He was put with his back over the wall bars and the roping started. As ropes came to encircle his limbs and torso, pulling them taut against the bars, the belts and straps that kept his legs together and his arms pinned to his sides were removed. There was no hope to escape their grip. He groaned and grunted.

His assailants remained silent, but a chuckle here and there told him that they were having fun. He was having mixed feelings. He’d dreamed of being tied up really tightly, yet his school status didn’t allow him to be put down by lower forms boys.

When every single one of his joints was linked to the bars, with more turns in between, he was trapped against the bars like a fly caught in a spider web. He heard shuffling feet fading away, and some whispers; were they going to leave him here? Would he have to endure what Keith had been promised?

The gym fell quiet but there were still people around him. His blindfold was removed. In front of him stood three ghostly figures; they were boys, or they looked like it, but they had hoods made of pillow cases with holes for their eyes, which he didn’t see anyway.

“Jason the Boar! For much too long you’ve been able to go unchecked, and you’ve taunted, pushed, insulted and hit many boys. At last justice catches up with you, Jason. It’s time for you to repent and we are the kind souls who are going to help you out with this.”

“Mmmph?”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Billy said, “The judgment has already been passed. We’re the executioners. At this very moment, a mini-van is leaving the school. Your friend Toby really thought you had the stomach flu so he’s quite glad you didn’t come along and contaminate them.”

“Mmmrf! Mmml?”

“Your parents think you’re with the cricket team and vice-versa. But in fact, you’re going to spend the next forty-eight hours in our hands. Feel how well you’re restrained. Do you think you can escape?”

Gagged as he was, Jason didn’t understand he was asked an answer.

“Groan once for yes and twice for no. When we ask you a question, you’d better answer quickly so we don’t think you’re making fun of us. Do you think you can escape?”

“Mmm. Mmm.”

“Much better. Maybe with a little time and effort we can turn you into something decent. Your first trial will be to stay here peacefully and think about all those you’ve wronged. We’ll help you to complete the list when we come back in an hour or so.”

The three hooded shapes left, and the light was turned off, leaving Jason in the dark, with his brain in full overdrive mode.

Jason had all the faces of the boys in Saint Thomas More churning in his head; complete silence helped him to focus. Some memories of his hooded judge’s words came back to him. The voice music was the same as this of the obnoxious little Billy, which confirmed his suspicion that he was getting payback for his taunting of the boy and the kidnapping of his friend.

Jason settled down. So far he’d been handled by pros; he squirmed and found out that none of the ropes bit into his flesh. He’d always thought making it a little tighter was great at preventing motion. Yet he couldn’t hope to find a way out.

The silence ended up being deafening. Jason could hear his heartbeat; then there were creaking sounds, among which the distinct rattling sound of chains dragged over the floor. The lights all turned on at the same time. Ten feet ahead of him, Jason saw two shapes wrapped in ropes and chains. They wore some kind of hood; he could only suspect from their build and height that they were Alistair and Geoffrey, his fellow cricket players who’d helped him out with Keith’s kidnapping. The three hooded boys were at their sides.

The same boy spoke again. It was Billy, now the Boar was sure of it. He’d taunted him because he found him cute; his flirting manner wasn’t the most obvious and got very little positive results, but he now was into his hands, bound gagged, and with two of his friends in some intense distress. They were trussed up from the shoulders to the knees and they had to mince as they were pushed forward.

“Geoffrey and Alistair, the Boar. You can’t hear them, we’ve gagged them way too tight, but they also have their ears plugged and they can’t see through the blinding hoods. So to speak, we’re among ourselves. You may pretend that they’re not here.”

Jason grunted a feeble ‘yes’.

“Their fate is in your hands, the Boar. They’ve been caught twenty minutes ago by one of our team of operatives. We can release them if you agree with our terms. These are simple. You will have to endure two days, well, forty-five hours and a half now of being our captive. Not a moan, not a whine, not a defiant gesture. Not that you’ll be able to do much protesting as we’ll keep you bound and gagged most of the time. If you prove us you’re not a wuss or a snitch, we might let you go in peace. If not, we’ll find you another time anyway.”

Billy had managed to get a much colder voice over the last few sentences. Jason was shaking. Shaking with lust as the disciplinary announcement had gotten him very, very stiff. Thankfully his jockstrap kept his things well in check. Or so he thought.

“So, are you willing to accept to pay for the crimes of these two scoundrels too?”

This was some kind of a dare. The unwritten code of honour was that you stood for your friends.

“Mm,” he loudly snorted while nodding emphatically.

“Good. You didn’t chicken out from the beginning.”

Billy stood still as the two other masked boys pushed the deaf, dumb and blind captives out.

“They’ll be left with a bag on the head, and they’ll never be able to tell who kidnapped them. We’ve already taken a few embarrassing pics that will be sent to a selected list of contacts if they squeak; it should be enough to ensure their silence once their gags are removed.”

He took a few steps forward. His face was now a foot away from the Boar’s.

“As for you, you’ll have time to repent. We don’t intend to have you idly stay trussed up as you are. Your willingness to redeem yourself by serving us will also be tested.”

Steps resounded and a file of boys entered. They were not masked. From the bottoms, shorts and legs, Jason knew the first two opening the way were the boys who’d taken his friends away. Matt and Philip. They were followed by Lewis, who had a celebrity status at Saint Thomas More, being famous for long wordy rants castigating his peers for their words of actions. He had fierce enemies, but his gift of the gab had sometimes made Jason and his mates back off.

He was followed by the two American kids, Nicholas and Sora. Their gait mimicked this of the rest of the group. Keith was next, along with the two boys who hung out with Lewis, Ben and Fred. They were nine, he had accepted to face them alone.

Billy removed his hood and joined his friends.

“The origins of your nickname have been lengthily investigated by our little group, the Boar. I think that it has to do with your rustic sense of hygiene as much as your tendency to rush straight ahead into others in some rather unpalatable ways,” Lewis started, very quickly annoying the Boar, “So count this day as a blessed one, my friend, for we’re going to straighten you up a little, if I may.”

“I don’t know if you may,” Keith smirked.

“You’re right, my cattle-keeping friend. Re-educate, rehabilitate… Anyway, all of us have decided to commit time to your improvement. You will have to write down confessions with Billy and myself to start with. You will then learn how to cook for us with Matt and Phil. The others will take turns binding you in different ways that help you to repent. Any wrong move or failing of doing what we tell you will result in a cut of the crop over your plentiful derriere and an extension of your captivity. It would be a bit tricky, but a nice challenge nonetheless, to manage to push it to four days. Don’t goad us into choosing such a solution.”

There was another nod. Jason had never been this excited. Lewis’s words were darts that sent him a shot of adrenalin every time more dire things were supposed to happen to him.

TBC
Last edited by Bondwriter 4 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by blackbound »

Does taking your friends' punishment really mean anything if you're looking forward to it that much? I think I'll give the boar a pass this time. :lol:
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Post by Xtc »

Going well. It's a shame abut the Amercan bodyweight, though; a true Brit would weigh himself in stones! :) (190 pounds would be "twelve stone, twelve" or "nearly thierteen stone" in weight.) He would, indeed, have been a big lad!
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but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Bondwriter »

Yes, Blackbound, how can you punish a masochist? ;)
Thanks for the heads up, XTC. Always a concern, and I use the anlo-saxon equivalent I know. By the way, which unit do you use for distances, like describing a room? Feet only? Do people give distances in yards?
This is worthy of an entry in the writing threads by US/ UK English specialists.
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Post by Xtc »

Yes, [mention]Bondwriter[/mention], it is a minefield.

Americans weigh people in pounds but the Brits usually use stones and pounds (14 pounds = 1 stone) exept that officials (hospitals, etc.) use kilos. "He weighs about fourteen stone six".

Distances are usually stated in miles but can (rarely) be stated in km. Measurements of rooms can be in feet and inches or metres (just to be difficult). The height of people is almost invariably given in conversation in feet and inches (12 inches = 1 foot) such as, "He's about six-three tall" or "she's about five foot-four" Yes, not always "five feet-four" Again, official heights are given in centimeters (171 cm) or, more correctly, in metres (1.71 m). Being Brits, of course, we always use a "." as a decimal point and never a ",".
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
Bondwriter
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Centennial Club
Posts: 575
Joined: 6 years ago

Post by Bondwriter »

Thanks for the information, XTC. Here is another chapter.

30. Brain Washing

And so it started. He first had to spend three hours with the two masterminds of the group. They released him from the wall bars and marched him into a room that was used for storage. They had set up a desk, with chains attached to its legs and frames. Billy and Lewis got help from the others for the transportation, as it was out of the question that Jason could use brute force to get out of his bondage and take them on. If they were to display the strength of a well-coordinated group, there could be no flaws in their handling of the captive to crush any hope of rebellion. Once he was held by chains linking his ankles, knees, wrists and elbows with just enough leeway to allow writing, the rest of the gang left and Jason was alone with what seemed to be the group’s leaders.

“Other less chivalric opponents would have beaten the crap out of you at this point. We’re going to draw on more subtle techniques, and get you to empty your bag and confess to all of your misdeeds. We have a file and a list of names of those you’ve wronged or harassed, and you’d better be exhaustive in the recording of your reprehensible behaviours since the term started. If we notice discrepancies between your list and the one we’ve drawn, then there won’t be any mercy shown in punishing your crimes. Let’s say that your large and muscular buttocks are at risk of being unable to sit for a few days, if you see what I mean.”

Billy smiled, and Lewis chuckled.

“Oh, yes, large wild porcine friend, I’ve been told you like cricket and so do we. Some of our goons love to swing bats and hit fleshy targets…”

“But we hope it won’t come to that. Now, you’ll list the names of those who might be bearing some grudge and the reasons they may have ill feelings towards you; the more details, the better. We’ll decide upon the best penalties so you may atone for these sins of yours. Remember: no magical being in the sky that you talk to in your head will assess the sincerity of your repenting. We’re quite real, and you’re in no position to flee any ordeal we choose to inflict upon you if you try to dodge your responsibilities. There’s paper and pen, so you’d better start, you have one hour and a half; considering our list, it won’t be too long to complete yours. And watch your spelling.”

Jason’s mind was reeling; with the mastery that had been on display so far, the list his kidnappers claimed they held had to be genuine. He went back in time, remembering all these conflicts and aggressions since they were back from the Christmas holidays.

He started by listing all the first forms’ names he knew; they had been a particularly easy target, so they all had something to complain about as he’d at least verbally abused even the stoutest of the boys. Then he had more boys in higher forms he’d made fun of for their effeminate appearances. Considering he had landed in what seemed a nest of homos, they had certainly been asked, if they didn’t belong to the group.

As he wrote down the names, places and dates to the best of his recollection, he couldn’t help but feel like a total jerk. Most of these boys he’d actually wanked upon repeatedly; his seducing technique had proved rather ineffective. He could only hope this time he would be able to make friends with these boys. Laying down his dumb treatment of other boys on paper made him feel terrible. He scribbled furiously, and he’d covered four pages by the time Billy announced his time was up.

The two boys had presided over his toiling, busy filling notebooks with lines themselves. Now Billy picked up his papers; he read it with Lewis at his sides. They pointed to the paper now and then, making small muttered comments he didn’t fully understand.

“Now we see that your crimes can be put into three categories: those when you abused boys verbally, those when you abused them physically and also all of these crimes you committed against yourself by being unpleasant to your peers and not trying to please. Your sacrifice for Alistair and Geoffrey has somewhat redeemed these wrongdoings, but more might be needed. Write down how you think we should punish these three types of faults.”

Jason was provided with more paper, but not more advice. He was at a loss to suggest ways to be forgiven, as he first thought about it. His mind quickly drifted away to being the gang’s captive. These thoughts got him to tent his shorts quite hard; under the table, he couldn’t be seen, thankfully.

He first made a list of those he would apologize to. Then, visualizing himself handled by the many boys, roped, gagged and hobbled, his submissive fantasies kicked in and he gushed out two pages of possible tie-up torments he would be willing to be submitted to. It was a wide catalogue of positions and predicaments; when Billy and Lewis picked his copy up one hour later, they were quite elated at the willingness to be the subject of strict tie-ups. His eagerness to get his buttocks warmed up with a cricket bat was duly noted too.

They couldn’t believe how obedient he was, not offering any resistance and approving all of the edits they suggested for his final draft. Billy even wondered if there was complete sincerity on their captive’s part. The fact they got everything in writing was what mattered, though.

They called their friends who gathered around Jason who’d been left shackled to his desk. Billy announced that their captive would be bound and gagged at all times except for the moments when he’d be given some water, that he would be a mannequin for their tie-up experiments and that strict discipline would be applied. Some of the lads in the group seemed pleased with the idea of reddening his bum, and all seemed to be intent on checking he would act as instructed.

The American lads were put in charge of him for the night; once again, the whole group assisted them to get him into another storage room, where the gym mats and gymnastics apparatuses were stored. He’d been hauled by six of the boys holding some part of the network and carrying him as he was face down, looking at the floor at the end of their arms. He’d remained still, not wanting them to drop him, even from two feet high. Then he was left with the two foreign students who had arrived in January.

A newbie has to be taught the ways of the school, and asserting his power over newcomers had always proved a winning move for Jason, as it got them to fear him from the very start. He hadn’t confessed to this in writing, but these were two cute boys whom Jason had fancied. The Argentinean was not very tall and he was wiry; he had actually pushed back against one of Jason’s rebukes, and he’d decided not to retaliate physically, because the lad seemed rather feisty, and god only knew what weird combat techniques these foreigners mastered.

The other one was an exuberant guy. He was quite a chatterbox, and he did reply to his taunts. This had escalated until Jason had become very abusive, going full ‘your mom’ mode. It had worked well, and he’d managed to get the boy to enrage. At no moment Jason felt threatened; he defused any attempt at striking back by making himself even bigger and puffing up his chest. The silent stares and the frustrated looks were the wages he earned for terrorizing others.

He remembered vividly his skirmishes with the boy from Texas, or some place in the south of the U.S. He’d also alienated the South American lad with dumb xenophobic comments that always got his friends to have a good laugh. The two boys were now in charge of him; they struck a conversation, acting as if he weren’t there.

“OK, Nicky, this is the first time I have carte blanche for a full-fledged mummification. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

Jason spotted the rolls of duct tape piled up upon one of the gym mats; he counted eight of them.

The lanky Argentinean boy picked up a roll and kneeled, ready to tape the larger boy’s ankles.

“Crapcakes, Nicky, that’s amateur stuff.”

“Why?”

“We want to wrap him from his neck to his feet in tape; it’s easier to start at the top, especially since working on his legs might cause him to lose his balance. Once we’re done taping him, we should have him lie down. It’ll be safer and faster to start from the top.”

The boys started working on Jason with two rolls, which they crossed at strategically-located points to make their taping look symmetrical. They held on to him; having thus two good-looking boys taking care of him, and being ignored as they discussed the technicalities involved in restraining him aroused Jason greatly.

“This is how Philip and Lewis got you to spend your initiation night, wasn’t it?”

“Yup. They did it tight too.”

“They’re good at taping you pooless, aren’t they?”

The boy with the curly hair, whom he’d called Gator boy because he lived in the South, looked at his handiwork carefully.

“We haven’t done badly either. That’s why I like duct tape. It sure makes for very subdued captives if you use it properly. Let’s have him lie down so he doesn’t fall on his face.”

“You’re too kind, Sora. He didn’t have these scruples when he called you names,” the cropped-hair boy said.

“Yes, yes, but having to deal with a bleeding nose is too much of a hassle.”

They sat over a mat a few feet away from Jason’s lying form.

“Initiations were fun. But I like games better. “

“Oh my god! I sooo agree with you on this one. I mean, there was a pooload of cool stuff during initiation, like the gagging experiments and the taping up; but the games are the best. Especially when you’re in the winning team.”

Jason had to endure a half hour of a story told by Sora, the US kid, who was really enthusiastic to tell his tale as if he were commenting something that took place under his eyes. This was quite a story, too. Jason pricked up his ears when he told of an ambush they’d laid for Fatbind. Apparently they’d managed to seize him without any of his buddies hearing it.

This is when they got to talk about gags. They argued about the most effective ones; as they couldn’t settle over what really made a gag work, whether it was the mouth-filling or the lisp sealing, they decided to run a practical experiment; they kneeled over his bound form and turned him around so he lay over his back. They got busy untying the tie holding the wad of hankies inside his mouth. Sora picked up the soggy cotton ball; Nicholas clamped a strong hand over their prisoner’s mouth.

“We need fresh stuff to put in his mouth,” he told his accomplice.

Sora looked around. Then he hit his forehead, struck by a revelation.

“I know…”

He removed his shoe and peeled of his white cotton ankle sock.

“It’s not exactly fresh, but it’s a bit drier than the hankies soaked with our friend’s saliva.”

There was a bit of a struggle, but one raised finger from Nicholas made it clear to Jason that there would be retaliation if he persisted. He eventually parted his lips and swallowed the ball of cotton; the smell was strong and the taste in his mouth acrid. Yet, his boner was throbbing, well kept in check by the turns of gray tape.

The thin hand covered his mouth again. For the first time, Sora spoke to him.

“Try to call out for help, Jase.”

Jason hated this nickname; he complied with the order and grunted.

“This is still rather loud, Sora.”

“You’re so right. Let me deal with this small issue.”

The second sock was removed. Jason was made to open his mouth, and the four sets of fingers worked over his head and mouth to force the smelly sock inside the captive’s mouth, which was open wider and with stinky cotton filling every nook and cranny of Jason’s large gob.

“Try again, Jase. You really want your friends to find and rescue you, otherwise you’re going to stay within your little gray cocoon for a few days. Not very comfortable…”

“Or convenient. No food. No bathroom.”

“Mmmmmmm…”

The sound that came out through his nose was faint; it was a quiet humming that would indeed have been imperceptible by someone a few feet away.

“Much better. Tape, Sora?”

“Indeed. A pooload of tape, but only once we’ve put the rubber swim cap on him.

“Mmmmph?”

This allows for putting tape all over his head. Not only will he look the cutest, but he will certainly be the quietest! Then we can torture him without Lewis or Billy finding out.”

“Mmmph?”

They did a fine job with his head; he could feel how careful all the moves were, how each turn was thoughtfully planned, and the grip of the adhesive material tightened around his skull. Their conversation resumed and this time, there were exciting tales of games they’d played at someone’s family house in the countryside. It was difficult imagining the scene, as this was no doubt the umpteenth retelling of this episode and he didn’t have much clue about who the boys were and what it was all about; it sounded like a game where they made prisoners from the other team and tried to get theirs released.

“Like, the way Lewis looked at us when he realized we’d captured all of his team. He was sooo mad! This was so much fun turning the tables on him.”

“Yup, plus we did quite a good job binding him kneeling to the tree.”

“Oh my God, he was really mad, then. This is quite a nasty way to spend two hours, by the way.”

“I’ve been bound like this for longer,” Nicholas bragged.

“Yeah, but you’re the ultimate champion in holding long and strenuous positions.”

Nicholas puffed his chest slightly. He was someone at this school.

“Speaking of which, should we change our prisoner for a more difficult tie-up?”

“Nah, unless you want to hang him by his feet.”

“Great idea!”

There was a jerk from the body lying over the bed, but to no avail.

“There’s just nothing to hang him from in here. We’ll do this later on with the others.”

Jason had to endure even more threats and ‘old war tales’ from the two newbies, who seemed to fit in well with the rest of the Saint Sebastian boys. They had made more friends in three months than he had in four years. They eventually took out sleeping bags and lied at his sides. He didn’t really sleep. He dozed off, but he couldn’t help waking up with a jolt every time he realized he was mummified from hair to toes. Then he took in the soft breathing of the peacefully-sleeping boys who framed him and he could relax until the cycle started over.

It was the rest of the gang that woke him up when they entered the room speaking loudly, laughing and even, God forbid, swearing. The bodies of his night guards stirred slowly around him. There were grunts and moans from the boys who’d have liked to sleep longer; as for Jason, he was quite happy to be released at last, if this was the plan.

Matt and Philip approached him with scissors. They carefully cut the tape that clung to his skin. Jason felt weak, he was thirsty and he needed to pee badly by now. He let them cuff his wrists and ankles and add hobbling chains that they linked with small silver padlocks.

“All right, chaps, we’ll take care of getting him ready for a whole new day of fun!”

Philip’s tone bore some threat in it. The way his lips curled up, displaying his canine teeth made his smile frightening. The boys pushed him without encountering much resistance to what now was visibly a former bully. They went to the bathroom; they entered a stall; Matt lowered his briefs as Phil helped him to sit. He looked at them sheepishly, waiting for some last word before they would let him handle his business privately; they kept staring at him silently.

After two short minutes, which of course felt an awful lot longer to Jason, Philip turned to his friend.

“Well, he won’t go, so we’d better move on.”

He shook his head violently. Some of the strips had been removed, which made some motion possible A hefty plastering still sealed his jaws; having him suck all night on the socks the Americans had crammed inside his mouth. He couldn’t tell them to leave…

“Wait,” Matt said, “he’s just giving us the cold shoulder. Well, lad, we caught you, we get to monitor you all the time. All the time! Even when you lay down your little pile of poo. So go for it, we don’t have all morning.”

Blushing under the tape, Jason closed his eyes and let his sphincters relax. Man, this wasn’t cool. But he couldn’t wait, and he was starting to think that those who were tasked with keeping him over the day wouldn’t offer another bathroom break. The unwanted noises accompanying his excretions got the others to chuckle. Nothing was said, and they had him stand and bend over before Phil wiped his ass.

He was brought to the sink, staggering with his shorts between his knees. They got him in the nude, still doing their job one limb at a time; Philip had a riding crop; he would certainly use it without hesitation. His abductor then meticulously washed his hands. He grabbed a small towel, wet it and put some shower gel on it before he rubbed Jason’s torso. He cleaned his dick too.

Matt had shorts and a jersey to dress Jason up. Black and gold, such as were all the other boys. He was left hobbled, but this was perfectly comfortable. They marched him outside and through the large gymnasium. There was a small space in the hall that had a stove and fridges, which were used to make sandwiches and sell drinks at big games. They got some orange juice, an apple and a piece of bread.

Matt removed the gag; Philip was making stern recommendations before the last of the strips was removed and the wadding could be spat out.

“No funny stuff, lad. One single sound and you skip a meal. Let me tell you, we’re the nicest ones of the gang. If you happen to be in Keith’s hands, it’s likely you won’t be able to get anything to eat. He’s hell bent on enacting the nastiest possible revenge.”

“Yes, so actually, not having anything to eat will be the least of his worries. Keith’s liking for removing hair with tweezers, however…” Matt said as he ripped the strip gluing Jason’s lips together.

The Boar was more like the Pussycat now. He opened wide, obediently waiting for Philip to feed him. When his feeder thought he’d had enough, he crammed a piece of fabric in his mouth.

“I need some prewash for my underwear; it’s not too clean, I’ve wanked in them a bit, but nothing too bad, not more than nine or ten times.”

Expecting Jason’s reaction, Philip clamped his hand over his captive’s mouth.

“Oh, no! It stays in. I’m sure you like it.”

“He does,” Matt said, looking at the bulge in the shorts. “What should we use to make sure he can’t spit your fine briefs out?”

“Tape; it’s fast to put on and it works well. Sora had a rubber swim cap, can you retrieve it?”

Matt dashed out, and fifty seconds later he had the headwear in hand as he stood next to Phil, who was whispering words to his captive’s ear while keeping him handgagged and apparently enjoying the reaction from the boy, his wide eyes and muffled wails.

Two pairs of hands well coordinated can achieve a lot, and Jason remained handgagged while Matt put the cap on. Then the wrapping started again. His hands were eventually cuffed in front.

“Good, I like you better all hobbled and gagged. Now lad, it’s time for us to have breakfast. Put the kettle on for some tea, get some juice from the fridge and get some bread in the toaster. There must be marmalade too. You’ll serve us breakfast over there.”

Philip pointed to a small table in the corner that could accommodate up to six people. He and Matt sat down while Jason toiled with all the appliances; he was not too well versed in household chores, and he certainly would no longer make fun of people who performed them. He had a tea pot ready, which he brought along with cups he got from a shelf.

“Not much awareness of proper etiquette, boy,” Philip said, taking his riding crop. “You should have gotten the cups, the milk and the sugar first. Then the juice, then the toast and at last the teapot! Go get the rest.”

Jason spun on his heel; the swishing sound warned him of the stinging cut of the crop a tenth of a second before it hit, sending sparks up his spine.

“And don’t dawdle!”

Philip kept on harassing him throughout his breakfast. He managed to use his horse whip another three times. Jason couldn’t fight back, so he endured. They were eventually satisfied with the meal.

TBC
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Carnath
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Post by Carnath »

Still loving it :)
The Brotherhood
The best human pilot in the galaxy
My Bondage Academia

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