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

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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]gaggedfeety[/mention] Competitors know what happens to them when on the losing side. The wicked cubs might fall on the wrong side and get a taste of their own medicine.
More on Sunday!
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Post by blackbound »

We can only hope. Several of them need to be taken down a peg.
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[mention]blackbound[/mention] Eventually, they should be!
They help keeping our heroes on their toes, and we may be grateful to them for it.
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Post by Bondwriter »

And here is your weekly instalment, dear readers!

The Great Tournament 2: Second Round

Chapter 9: New Friends?

“Hey! Our guests are here!” Dylan, a wide grin brightening his face, rushed to Philip, who was the first in line.

“We’re almost done fixing dinner! You’ll sit with me, won’t you?”

The boy had black thick hair and a dark complexion, likely from a Pakistani or Indian background. Philip had a hard time reconciling Dylan’s welcoming attitude with the behaviour he’d endured in the afternoon.

The ninja at Philip’s sides handed the leash to Dylan.

“I’ll let you handle your new friend,” he said.

“We’ll manage,” the boy said, puffing up his chest.

Two long outdoors tables to accommodate thirty people, with benches on each side, were filled with yummy food: pâté, cheese, bread, melon, and bottles of water and soda. The captives feared a trap and being denied food and drink again. The Cubs picked their guests, and the tormentors from the afternoon were now kind hosts.

They laughed as their prisoners sat cautiously on the hard benches. The friendly atmosphere puzzled the guests, but they accepted the food and cola drinks their diminutive handlers gave them. Billy sat next to Luke, who asked what kind of cheese he wanted in his sandwich, pointing to the various, exotic kinds on the table.

All the Saint Sebastian lads had someone attend to their welfare. Of course, they were warned not to speak, and the Cubs made sure to keep them handgagged while they chewed and get the plug gags back in when they were done.

They traded looks of relief as their minders had them stand and move to the campfire a few tens of yards away. Owen and Finley got down on all four, a box of matches in hand, and set fire to the pile of dry branches that lit up almost immediately.

Logs were set in a circle around the fire; the Saint Sebastian guests were made to sit cross-legged on the grass in front of them, and the Cubs used ropes lying on the trunks to bind them.

“You’ve got the best seats for the show!” Dylan told Philip, patting him kindly on the head. His guest looked at the ground, afraid his real thoughts could be read in his eyes.

The sun had disappeared behind the huge trees a hundred yards west of them, but it was still daylight.

Owen and Finley had been appointed to run the show. They started inviting the various sixes to tell of the day’s feats. The narratives were self-aggrandizing and didn’t report about their preys’ vulnerabilities, but the re-enactments ended with some of the Cubs playing the part of their audience members.

The captive audience had to endure the show until Owen suggested a rodeo contest.

“And for this, we’ll need three volunteers to play the calves,” he announced, looking at the prisoners. The twelve boys cast puzzled looks but stayed mum.

“No volunteers? We’ll have to pick them, then,” Finley said, moving towards the prisoners. He pointed to Keith, Stéphane, and Matt.

“We’ll need pairs from the den to compete.”

The thirteen Cubs in the audience raised their hand. Finley selected six of them, pairing sixes together.

“Usually, those who play the cattle start free, but the Commander said we should keep you restrained at all times,” Finley explained. “Each pair will have to get you from your comfy sitting position to a tight hogtie that should keep you restrained for fifteen minutes. You must make it difficult for the binders; efforts and struggles will be rewarded.”

The competitors dragged the contestants closer to the fire so they would be in full sight.

“You have three pieces of rope only to immobilize the calves,” Owen said, handing out a big mass of rope to the players, who were whispering to each other, planning.

The Cubs stood next to their ‘calves,’ waiting for Owen’s signal.

“Ready? Steady! Go!”

The two Football Players and the Soldier got grabbed by the duos who were to get them in a hogtie. They fought hard, but the little blighters worked methodically. Their hands bound behind their backs made striking back almost impossible.

Keith fought the hardest; his nickname being Cowboy, he wasn’t keen on being treated as a calf. His flailing legs almost got one of his assailants off his back, but the second Cub sat on his thighs. He kicked the boy’s back with his heels, but this only made the smaller lad lean back and put all his torso’s weight on Keith’s legs.

The other boy sat between his shoulder blades. Keith felt the one pinning his lower limbs slide backwards until a shorted bum rested on his calves. The two leaned forward and got a loop of rope around the top of his thighs.

The audience—prisoners included—were given a lesson in hogtying. The pair worked fast and reacted quickly to thwart Cowboy’s every move, whereas the other contestants were less efficient and had to start over some bonds.

Keith was bundled up tightly after four minutes and forty-four seconds, according to Finley’s timer. The two other pairs weren’t as good: it took six minutes to restrain Stéphane, and Matt made his mates proud, being the last to be hogtied.

“While they get their fifteen minutes to escape, Alex and Dylan will be hogtied by Nate and Léo, who’ve been the fastest. The show must go on,” Owen said, pointing to the Cubs who’d bound Matt.

He brought more rope from a pile nearby. Philip and Lewis rejoiced; Dylan was the chubby bastard who’d first tortured them. Nate and Léo were fast, and they managed to get the lad in a hogtie even faster than with Keith.

“Great act, guys,” Finley congratulated them. “We still have time. I’ll say you should gag him also.”

Dylan tried to protest, but his complaints were smothered by the crowd’s boos and Léo’s right hand clamping over his mouth ruthlessly.

“Can someone give me a sock?” the cute French lad asked.

Luke threw him his balled-up socks first. Nate gave a hand, and soon Dylan’s gob was full of stinky footwear secured by his own neckerchief.

“Two more minutes to go for our guest,” Owen said, pointing to the three struggling older boys. “Wait, wait … The footie guy got his wrist out.”

Stéphane had managed to pull his left hand out from the rope manacles. He fought like crazy as Finley started the countdown.

“He’s got thirty seconds to release himself! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!”

The crowd joined him, putting extra pressure on the contestant, who felt his second wrist slip out from the ropes. His ankles were bound to his thighs, not his wrists, unfortunately, which meant he failed the challenge by the time the boys reached zero.

Three Cubs redid the ropework to secure his arms while Nate and Léo hogtied Alex. The gathering came to an end with a sing-along.

“It’s our den that binds and gags! Keeps our captives very sad …”

Out-of-tune voices bellowed the anthem, glorifying their den’s ability to restrain, silence, and punish opponents. The bound guests were fascinated by the younger lads’ cohesion and motivation.

The Commander and six ninjas showed up as soon as the song was over.

“Thank you, Owen and Finley. You’ve followed the schedule, spot on time. Alex and Dylan took part in a game?” he remarked as he looked at the hogtied shapes on the ground.

“They did, Commander, and they shamed their six by coming in last. Can we keep them bound overnight?” Owen asked.

“Sure, but inside a tent. It might get chilly later. First, I’ll ask you boys to give the agents a hand preparing your new friends so we may take them to the manor safely. Then you’d better get in your sleeping bags quickly. Agent 14 will stay by the fire in case there’s an emergency, and he’ll act if he hears ruckus.”

The lads’ weak though agreeing replies sounded defeated, betraying Agent 14’s reputation as a tough watcher.

The fifteen lads got busy helping cuff their guests under the ninjas’ supervision. Once back in their chain gang’s configuration, the twelve teenagers followed the Commander, with five ninjas at their sides. They heard the plans the Cubs had for Alex and Dylan, asking Agent 14 for his approval.

The trip to the dorm went flawlessly with a quick bathroom stop before our heroes were brought to their cots, lying on their bellies. Everybody was grateful for this position, which spared their spanked and whipped bottoms.

“As I did with your younger new friends, I’ll stress the importance of resting,” the Commander pontificated, “so you may seize any opportunity to turn the tide tomorrow.”

His advice wasn’t needed; he’d barely left and switched the light off that the twelve boys drifted away into slumber after their taxing day at the hands of the new contestants. Two of his goons stayed to oversee the prisoners.

Lewis recovered from this tough day with sweet dreams; they were blurry but featured his friends Ben, Fred, and Philip in a more enjoyable setting than being tortured by wicked little boys. Noise around him woke him up, but he kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the moment. A hand poking his chest got him to open them. Luke, the black Cub, was standing above him. His smile was genuine and friendly. He wore a bright orange shirt.

“Hey, Boy-Scout, time to wake up! I’m in charge of getting you ready!”

The boy released him from the cot, cuffing his hands behind his back. Lewis looked around: all twelve teenagers were being handled by the Cubs. Some had orange shirts like Luke’s, but Lewis counted five wearing light grey ones and five others wearing flashy light green ones. The ninjas stood at each end of the dorm, which convinced him to let his minder perform the task without struggling.

The routine was the same as with the ninjas. The twelve Sebastian boys—the two French lads could be considered part of the team after the shared ordeal—ended up clean, fed and watered, and dressed in straitjackets, standing in the large hall on the Manor’s ground floor. The fifteen Cubs stood behind them, chatting merrily among themselves about their charges. No spanking or hitting so far. The Cubs fell silent when the Commander entered the room.

“Congratulations, boys, you’re ten minutes early. There will be time for questions about today’s game, to make sure it’s clear for everyone. It’s complicated, so bear with me.”

“Yes, Commander,” Owen barked, getting an approving nod from the masked leader.

“We need three teams, so you’ll play in sixes. We also have three teams of prisoners, so there’s one for each six. May the Eagles come up?”

The five boys wearing very light grey silk shirts came to the front.

“Meet Alex, Daniel, Dylan, Tyler, and Liam. Their six will play Hens or Chickens.”

The boys frowned.

“Don’t worry, this doesn’t mean we call you cowards. It will just be your role for today’s game. The Mongooses, you’re up!”

The orange-wearing Cubs came to the front and turned to watch the Saint Sebastian boys and the last Cubs, those wearing the fluorescent green shirts.

“Luke, Ethan, James, Léo, and Sam, you’ll be the Foxes for today’s game. The Green Jays, your turn, you’ll be the Vipers today.”

The five remaining lads came forward and turned towards the restrained older boys.

“The Vipers are Owen, Nate, Finley, Cameron, and Jake.”

“I think I know this game, Commander,” Léo said. “I’ve played it with the den I belonged to last year.”

“Good, you can explain it to your friends.”

The little blond boy took a solemn tone, focusing on his words.

“We called it Hens-Foxes-Vipers. It’s like cat and mouse, but with three teams instead of two. Hens can catch vipers, vipers can catch foxes, and foxes can catch hens by touching them, making them prisoners. They all have a camp, usually a tree, to which they bring the prisoners, who have to stay there touching the tree. Two caught boys can make a chain from the tree so other teammates can free them by touching their hands. When we played it, the winning team was the one with most prisoners.”

He turned to the Commander, who nodded approvingly.

“Thanks for your clear explanations, Léo. Did everybody understand?”

The Cubs approved with affirmative replies and the Saint Sebastian boys nodded they did.

“Now, this is the basis for today’s version. You may wonder how you’ll be involved in this,” he said, looking at the straitjacketed players. “I hope you won’t be miffed, but you’ll be props for your younger playmates. They did a great job yesterday, after all, so they get the most active part. You’ll be kept at their camps, which are trees like Léo said. You’ll be bound with ropes only, so they’d better make it snug and effective.”

He paused, looking at the proud Cubs.

“When a Cub is freed by his teammates, they can pick one of the prop captives as extra loot. They can also take a Cub prisoner to their base camp, which is different than the tree you’ll be assigned. Once the Cub prisoner and the loot are in the base camp, they can’t be rescued by their Cub friends. The base camps are the Hunting Lodge for you Foxes, the Club House for the Vipers, and the Farm for the Hens. They’re two-hundred yards from the tree-camps, so transporting the loot or the Cub prisoner brings more danger.”

He had one of the Cubs repeat the instructions to make sure the game’s purpose was understood by all.

“There are two stages in the game, then. You Cubs are bright enough to get it. You’ll have to balance attacking the other teams and defending your camp, but I’ll leave all this strategy for you to think about.”

Lewis was thinking hard, looking at his friends; he would be with Ben, Billy, and Nicholas. He had detected a flaw in the rules. The Commander wasn’t done.

“The game starts with the bell ringing. The Hens will be guarding the Football Players.”

He called out the names of the team members, who all sported black satiny shorts.

“The Foxes will be guarding the Boy-Scouts.”

He called out the patrol members, who stepped forward, welcomed by Luke, Ethan, James, Jay, and Léo. Lewis couldn’t help but wonder whether the twerps were waiting for the grown-ups to be gone to start tormenting them. They acted cuter and more benevolently, which had to be a ploy.

“And the Vipers will have to protect the Soldiers.”

The four boys, with their brown shorts and thick ankle boots, stepped towards the six they’d been paired with. All eyes were on Jason, his six feet and bulky frame impressing the young ones.

TBC
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Post by gaggedfeety »

Sounds like it'll be an interesting game!! It sounds like it might be a little more difficult for the Cubs, I'm wondering if that's a good thing or bad thing ;) :twisted:
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]gaggedfeety[/mention] The set-up seems intended to have players likely to be either captors or captives. Wait and see ...
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Post by Bondwriter »

Here is this week's chapter!

The Great Tournament 2: Second Round

Chapter 10: New Day, New Game

“Agents will lead you to your camps. You’ll have to bind your loot with rope only, though you’ll have them collared and chained to the tree, but each will have the key to his lock around his neck, so opponents can snatch them easily. Let me see,” he said, looking at a small notepad, “I think this is it for rules. All clear?”

Lewis nodded shyly, not wanting to attract attention; the tykes wanted to get started anyway. He traded looks with the boys standing at his sides, Ben and Billy; the latter had a twinkle in his eye, which Lewis interpreted as the common understanding of the loophole he’d spotted in the game. Billy’s wink confirmed it.

Lewis traded a last look with Philip when the Football Players were taken out. His team—or patrol—soon followed, framed by the five buoyant lads and three ninjas, one ahead to show directions and two others a few steps behind. The Boy-Scouts looked at each other; despite the leather concealing their lower faces, they looked much happier than the evening before. Lewis winked enthusiastically at Nicholas and Ben, so they’d know he had another great idea.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the spot where they’d captured Philip on the very first day. The tree was twenty yards from the path. What looked like a pool lane line on the ground made a circle thirty feet in diameter. Bags surrounded the trunk.

“The bags contain ropes and stuff to bind and gag your prisoners. One bag has their shirts and neckerchiefs, which you’ll put on them instead of their straitjackets. We’ll stay to watch you perform the rope-only tie-up. Watch out, if your prized loot escapes, it’s your job to chase and catch him. We won’t help.”

“Don’t worry, Agent 14,” Luke bragged. “We’ve got the situation under control.”

The Boy-Scouts played their role fully: Nicholas tried his best to thwart the Cubs when they picked him first to be imprisoned next to the tree. But the lads started with his legs, frog-tying him tightly, sparing no rope to unite his calves to his thighs. They coordinated flawlessly to remove his straitjacket. Jay and Ethan held his left arm, Léo and James the right one. They used a ruthless armlock he couldn’t break without undergoing major pain.

Luke had the shirt ready. “Don’t struggle, unless you want your whole team to start the game with blisters on their bums!”

Luke’s knee between Nick’s thighs could easily crush his balls. With a brief, explanatory push, the younger boy made this clear. The threats were enough to suppress an unwanted struggle and dress him up easily; the Cubs even got his arms in the dreaded reverse-prayer position.

Ben and Billy didn’t get a chance to resist either. The trained Cubs thwarted all attempts at getting a limb free. Both ended up at the bottom of the trunk, kneeling, thighs spread open and their ankles tied to the top of their thighs, their arms cruelly pulled between their shoulder blades.

Lewis enjoyed the show. He struggled even more, which got Jay to administer three loud smacks to his bottom.

“Keep going like this, and we’ll have your arse turn to a nice crimson.”

The sudden attack made the tie-up model more docile for a couple minutes. Once in the frog-tie, the odds of overcoming the group of eager gaolers dwindled to a single digit.

“Let’s make sure they can’t run away,” Ethan said, taking leather collars from one the bags. Soon, the Boy-Scouts had three-inch wide leather bands around their throats.

Luke took a long rubber strap with D-rings attached to it and wrapped it around the trunk. His accomplices got pieces of chains and padlocks from the bag. They repositioned the Boy-Scouts so the D-rings would connect with the fewest possible links.

“We’re done with them for now. It’s time to think of going after some Hens,” Ethan said.

“Zis game is cool, but we can’t win if we don’t free a prisoner. We also need to get caught!” Léo explained.

The strategical subtleties of the rules became apparent. The bell tolled in the distance.

“The game’s started! We need to find where the Hens are and stay away from the Vipers, at least until we decide to have someone caught,” Luke said. “But maybe we find some of the loot first. In the other games we played at the manor, it usually wasn’t too far away from our camps.”

The five boys started raking their surroundings, keeping in a line and in sight of each other to avoid a capture away from a friendly witness. The thicker bushes were searched thoroughly. After a couple of minutes, Jay froze and raised his fist. “Got one!”

The Six gathered around him; a cart was hidden in the shrubbery with a large chest and a canvas bag on it. The chest had ten picnic boxes: crisps, biscuits, an apple, a piece of local baguette, and a round bottle of yellow soda.

The canvas bag contained two leather harnesses with tons of D-rings and ten padlocks, all with their keys inserted. Three strap gags were in a separate box.

“Man, the plugs are bigger than usual,” James rejoiced. “Let’s leave the gear here. It’s well hidden and it’s really close to camp. We have all we need to hunt in our rucksacks already.”

Lewis saw them making their find and returning with beaming faces.

“Great, we can handle transportation better,” he heard Jay say. “And we’ve got food too.”

The Cubs checked the older boys were still as tightly tied up. Their ropework had held well; they could go hunting without fear of escapes.

“Maybe we should start attacking, then?” Ethan wondered.

“Yes,” Luke said. “Let’s find some Hens, it’s high time!”

“We need to be very quiet,” James said.

“We can gag you if it helps,” Jay offered.

The Six chuckled and let their prisoners simmer. Lewis fought, as did his friends, but these lads had gotten their knot badges cum laude. Hopefully, time and wriggling would bring a solution.

The five orange-wearing Cubs duck-walked along the path to conceal their flashy shirts among the foliage, their rucksacks full of gear. Jay led the group; he was the shortest and his keen eye had proved useful in previous games.

Jay had attended the Easter camp and was well acquainted with the estate. He stopped when he heard voices in the distance. They were faint, but a high-pitched one sounded like Daniel’s, the neighbour who’d gotten him to join the den. Jay had his four mates get down on all fours.

Hiding behind a small hill in the field, they progressed over a carpet of dead leaves and sticks towards the sounds’ source. Behind a tree, Jay found a camouflaged bag. The Six quickly detailed rope, six cuffs, and three padlocks with their keys inside. They stuffed their rucksacks and resumed their walk. Once they’d bypassed the bump, Jay saw bright whitish spots moving in the distance. He and his friends stopped.

They began crawling. Jay spotted three of the clear spots moving away: yellow and fluorescent green clothing.

“Football Players,” he whispered to his friends. “We’ve found the right camp! The Hens left only one guard but they’ve already made prisoners.”

The stealthy approach continued for ten minutes. The five boys got within forty feet of the tree to which five standing Football Players were tethered. Owen and Finley had gotten caught by the Hens. A detail made them chuckle: they both had strap gags on. Owen had his arm stretched between two of the older boys, Finley holding his hand tight and waving the other one around to shoo their guard away.

Dylan was keeping the prisoners, though it took a while to identify him standing with his back to the intruders. The thick black mane and his voice gave him away. The Foxes signalled to each other; Luke raised his hand and counted down to three with his fingers. The boys leaped from behind the ferns hiding them.

“Tag!” Luke said, tapping Dylan, who was busy taunting his seven prisoners, on the shoulder.

“Shit.”.

Owen and Finley looked at the whole Six that had launched their assault. Free of bonds, they were nevertheless held by the rules and could only be released by a teammate. Their strap gags and mouth-filling plugs denied them the right to comment on their opponents’ actions.

The Football Players, collared and chained to the tree, their hands crossed on their chests and harnessed in yards of rope, could only admire the surprise attack. Keith, who faced the spot where they emerged, had spotted them a while back but the vegetation had barely moved, and he only saw the bright orange when they stood up.

Cowboy witnessed Dylan being swiftly cuffed. The lanky 12-year-old looked dejected.

“Shouldn’t I stay free when made prisoner the first time?”

“Hush,” Jay replied. “We’ll release you once we’ve brought you to our camp,” he said, snapping the lock shut and trapping the caught player’s wrists behind his back.

“I’ll make sure you don’t call for rescue,” Luke said, sliding a rolled scarf inside Dylan’s gob.

Léo was his at black friend’s sides, tape in hand. He did three turns around the prisoner’s head. He looked at his Six friends, silently wondering what they should do with Owen and Finley. Ethan and Jay put their rucksacks down and pulled out coils of rope. The Mongooses, or the Foxes for this occasion, had agreed without speaking a word. Before the two Vipers could make a move, they were assaulted and brought to the ground.

“Grrnnghhmm!”

“Don’t complain, we’ll stick to rope-only so your mates can free you easily,” Luke explained as he got Owen’s forearms bound together and tied his wrists tight to the opposite elbows. “And since you’re snakes, you’ll be able to writhe around together.”

Philip had the best view of the show. He admired the boys’ ingenuity: they placed the two boys lying on their bellies, head to tail. They folded their legs, picking up their feet.

Finley’s ankles were bound together, but Owen’s legs were bound around his thighs only, above his knees. They stuck each of his ankles against his teammate’s bound ones and roped them together. They added a coil around their calves, leaving them face down, their feet sticking up.

“You’ll have to stick together,” Ethan said. “As for us, we shouldn’t stay here too long,” he added, looking above his shoulder. Thankfully, their swift attack hadn’t caused any loud screams. They were grateful the Hens had gagged their prisoners; it was a grey area in the rules, but it was welcome.

“Agreed,” Luke said, casting an eye on the Football Players’ bonds. “The Vipers will come release their teammates, and we can’t do much against them if the Hens haven’t neutralized them like our two friends here,” he said prodding Owen’s flanks with the tip of his shoe.

Jay and James framed Dylan; the Foxes could head back to their camp. Their tactic this time was different. James walked a hundred feet ahead, making sure the coast was clear, waving his Six they could follow. They walked the various stretches at a brisk pace, wanting to secure their take as soon as possible.

“One of us will have to get cot,” Léo whispered to Luke. “In zis version of the game it’s indispensable to bring the prisoners back to our base camp.”

The quartet discussed and strategized in low voices. Dylan listened closely, the rules making the game much trickier than he’d first understood. The walk took ten minutes, and they happily saw their four prisoners still frog-tied, leaning against the tree.

“Still here, my little Boy-Scouts,” Luke taunted. “Would you rather have your noses flicked or your ears pulled?”

TBC
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Post by Bondwriter »

The Great Tournament 2: Second Round

Chapter 11: Foxes on the Prowl

“We’ve brought you company,” Luke said, pointing to Dylan. Unseen from the new prisoner, he gestured James to get one of the plug gags. The squat, rugged boy rushed to the cart and its loot, bringing back one of the formidable muzzles.

“Before we go catch more of your friends,” Luke told Dylan, “we’ll take on your idea of gagging prisoners! You did this to Owen and Finley—it’s only normal we return the favour.”

Léo and James got the plug into Dylan’s mouth once Luke removed the tape and the now soggy hankie. He then freed Dylan’s hands.

“You need to touch the tree. Make yourself some space, we’ve got loafers sitting there already,” Luke said. The Six checked the Boy-Scouts’s bonds; Nicholas got the rope around his wrists tightened, but the three others hadn’t made any progress during the forty-five minutes they’d been on their own.

“Not exactly Houdinis,” Jay sneered, “though this one was on his way to freedom,” he said, pointing at Nicholas. The Cubs laughed at the dark looks they got in return.

“Time for ze next stage,” Léo said, “so we can take Dylan to our base camp.”

The Six checked their rucksacks and emptied some of the loot found on the cart, grabbing a couple of plug gags. They passed the prisoners’ tree again to head to new adventures. Lewis wriggled once again in search of a knot, stung by the twerps’ arrogance.

“Ethan will guard you. And don’t worry, Dylan, we’ll get you a friend soon enough,” Luke announced.

“Another Hen,” Ethan said, flapping his folded arms, “cluck, cluck, cluck!”

“Another chicken,” James taunted.

The merry quartet left their fuming prisoners and took the path veering left when they reached the fork fifty yards away.

“They must be close to the farm,” Jay whispered. “I’ll walk up front, just follow me. I’ll go where camped at Easter—the Vipers should be there. If they are, I’ll pretend I’m alone and let them catch me. Otherwise, I’ll check out the clearing just before the farm.”

“The one where the Eagles kept us pole-tied?” James inquired.

“Yup.”

“We’ve acted fast. I’m sure the Vipers haven’t released Owen and Finley yet, which means we should encounter only three of them at most. We can outrun Cameron, Nate, or Jake anytime,” James added.

“Yes, they’re all slow,” Luke confirmed. “We’ll be super quiet when we come free you, so be on the lookout.”

Jay walked a hundred feet ahead. He got out of the path and into the woods at the point where a slope appeared on the right. His friends followed, retaining visual contact at all times. They were getting close.

The three Foxes heard someone running and ducked immediately. Nate was chasing Jay, who made a good job pretending he was running for his life, shifting directions often. They lost track of the two runners, but they soon heard a triumphant ‘tag!’

Luke took the lead, looking around. The coast was clear, so they duck-walked towards the likely location of the Vipers’s camp. When they reached a large trunk strewn over the floor, the camp was fifty feed ahead. They spotted the bare legs of the soldiers through the foliage; the camouflage shirts did make them less visible in the forest.

Nate was pushing Jay in front of him. They were speaking in low voices; Jay was clever, trying to avoid being gagged.

“Rucksacks off, Mongooses,” Luke whispered. “We’re attacking from all sides. If Nate gets too close, we can always tie him up. We just need to make sure he doesn’t touch us with his hands. I’ll make the cuckoo sound to give the go.”

The treacherous idea made Léo and James smile. The three Cubs quietly laid their luggage down before deciding who was to go where. Léo would attack from the left, James from the right. Luke pointed forward to let them know he would crawl towards a bush that was close to their target.

He managed to get twenty feet from the camp tree Jay was standing in front of. The Soldiers stood bound and gagged, attached to the trunk by their necks as the Football Players had been. Jay was chatting with Nate; they were in the same school and in good terms. Jason was the current topic, as Jay asked whether it had been difficult dressing him up and binding him in ropes.

Nate didn’t even turn around when a cuckoo sang behind him—Luke was really good at making bird sounds, which he’d worked on a lot to get his nature badge. The sounds coming from Nate’s left and the flashy orange got his attention. Léo came to rescue his friend! Nate ran towards the scrawny blond boy, who grabbed the thin trunk of a poplar, using it to shift his trajectory swiftly.

Nate had been totally oblivious to Luke and James and raced away from his prisoners, while the two Foxes both touched Jay’s hand.

“Great! We need to lasso in Nate and make sure he doesn’t touch us,” Luke said.

“There’s a bag full of rope there.” Jay pointed at a canvas bag. They grabbed long coils from the Vipers’s gear. For a moment, they wondered if Léo had gotten caught by Nate or someone else, but they soon heard steps coming. It was their teammate indeed.

Luke leaped behind a tree, keeping an eye on the chase. Standing still behind the big trunk to keep his shirt from showing, he looked at James, who’d done the same, sheltering behind the bulky Jason and Marc. Jay had let his coil of rope fall to the ground and gotten back into his ‘prisoner’ position, a hand touching the bark between Marc and Matt, the other stretched for his friend to touch.

“Quick, Léo, you can rescue me!”

The blond boy was within reach; he touched Jay’s hand and spun around the tree quickly. Jay followed and so did Nate, only to be stopped dead in his tracks by James’s lasso—it fell over Nate’s shoulders and slid to his waist before the hidden attacker cinched it tight.

Luke rushed to help and wrapped his lasso the same way below Nate’s shoulders. Jay and Léo were back too, laughing at Nate’s flabbergasted face.

“Hey! What the hlllmmmmpgrmmm …”

“Hold him tight so he can’t use his hands, James,” Jay said while holding his captive’s hair tight to secure the handgag.

“I know just how to,” Luke said, picking the dropped coil of rope lying at his feet. He kept a tight grip on the lasso holding Nate’s forearms pinioned to his sides, and threaded the rope between his left elbow and his torso, running it across his back and threading it again between his body and right arm.

“He’s getting agitated,” Luke commented as Nate tried to kick James.

James gave his ring of rope some slack as Luke pulled on the newly set piece of rope, which brought Nate’s elbows together. He let go of his first lasso.

“Pick the rope up, Léo, and do his wrists! Watch out, don’t touch his hands!”

James crouched and wrapped three turns around the victim’s thighs, just above the knees. He did a tight square knot before cinching the rope. The remaining ends went to the ankles, which he bound together sturdily too.

Between Jay’s handgag and hair-pulling, Luke’s painful tugging on his elbows, and his restrained legs, Nate had little space to fight his attackers. He moved his forearms around, but Léo got his right wrist in a manacle, which he pulled on to impose an armlock.

James took the other end of the rope cuffing Nate’s wrist and looped it around the left one. Léo and James tightened it gradually until both of Nate’s wrists were together, and they made turns around both.

Luke did a couple extra turns around the elbows and wrapped the remaining length around the Viper’s torso, cinching the ropes between his arms and chest before knotting them off.

James and Léo finished off with a square knot and tied the end to the rope binding his elbows.

“Get something to gag him, please. He’s drooling like crazy, it’s gross,” Jay asked.

James ran to the rucksacks and returned quickly, a plug gag in hand. Nate managed a short shriek before his mouth was full of rubber and his assailant buckled the strap behind his head.

“One notch tighter,” Luke advised. “He’s made it tough for us.”

Nate kept grumbling and grunting.

“We didn’t cheat, my friend. You didn’t touch us, did you?” Jay asserted, wiping his wet hand over Fred’s shirt. “We’ve come to get some loot, and you were in the way. Calm down or we won’t leave the gag’s key around for your friends to remove it.”

This got Nate quieter. The four Foxes turned their attention to the ‘loot.’ They discussed which one looked best, and Fred won. Léo advocated for taking Jason because he ‘liked to torture him yesterday,’ but the others pointed out it could be dangerous having such a formidable hunk to transport.

They settled on Matt, who was the skinniest of the bunch. Luke picked the key hanging from his neck and removed his tether.

“I’m afraid we can’t stay too long, Nate,” he said. “Your loser friends should be back soon. We’ve got to get the loot and our first prisoner to our base camp, you see. By the way, I hope Owen and Finley managed to get out of their bonds eventually. Otherwise, the boars or the wolves will come and eat you.”

This got chuckles from his teammates, who gathered their stuff—Matt included—and left for their camp.

The Saint Sebastian boy couldn’t help but admire the four lads. They’d played smart, though he wondered about them breaking the rules. He’d focused on other loopholes in the Commander’s instructions.

They marched him cautiously for the full five hundred yards separating the two camps. Jay was scouting ahead of the others and their precious bundle. The forest was eerily silent.

Ethan waved at them when they got in sight of the camp.

“We made it safe,” Jay told him upon arrival, “and I’m glad you didn’t get a Viper attack.”

The others arrived and rejoiced. Matt traded looks with his friends, who were in a strenuous position, frog-tied and tightly kept against the tree. There was a white-shirted Cub touching the tree, plug-gagged, which made sense.

“They’ve behaved, even Dylan.”

“He didn’t complain?” James asked cheekily.

“Not at all. But I was getting worried something had happened to you. Now, we should hurry and secure our little chick and this piece of loot in the Hunting Lodge. Let’s use the cart. Loot boy is used to royal means of transportation.”

Matt recognized a member of the gang who’d tormented him the day before; he cast a dark look towards him.

Ethan ran to the cart and brought it back.

“It’s only mid-morning, so a bit early for lunch, but we could use the harnesses on these two.”

Some of the Foxes were eager to use the sophisticated gear, whereas others wanted to save them for another occasion, since Dylan and Matt were soon to be out of bounds for their opponents.

A compromise was reached. Ten minutes later, the cart started for its destination, its flatbed occupied by Dylan, ball-tied with seven long pieces of rope, wrists wrapped around his legs and bound to his ankles, and Matt, who wore a harness and had his ankles cuffed and linked to the belt around his waist. Ethan and Léo pulled the cart as Jay opened the way to bar any surprise attack. The convoy moved briskly and was at the threshold of the Hunting Lodge within three minutes. The Cub opened the door, making sure the Lodge was empty.

“It looks like we’re the only ones playing,” Jay said. “Are the others sitting some place and waiting?”

“Don’t complain,” Ethan replied. “This means we’re likely to win. I just hope that with three Vipers down, Luke and James won’t fall in a trap.”

“Against Cameron and Jake? They should do OK. There are still four Hens on the loose, but they won’t attack. There is no prisoner to free.”

Léo was busy undoing the straps hogtying Matt.

“Zis one is big. We can’t carry him inside.”

“Right, give me a hand, Ethan. We’re leaving Dylan bundled up. It would be a shame to remove such a fine ball-tie.”

TBC
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Post by blackbound »

Man, Luke is a menace and tactical genius. Is he really unstoppable? Guess we'll find out.
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]blackbound[/mention] The Cubs were fun to imagine, Luke being a good one. You'll see what happens next, then ... I should have replied sooner and avoided hence to let the story go to page 2.


The Great Tournament 2: Second Round

Chapter 12: The Wind Turns


The Foxes brought the grumbling Hen to the back of the hall. Léo held Matt’s arm and had him hop. They set Dylan on his back over the large table. Jay fetched a bag from the cart and took more rope out. They attached coils to the net already ensnaring the bound and gagged Cub, having them go under the table to pin him at the very centre.

“We know you like to wiggle around, Dy, but it wouldn’t be safe, would it,” the mischievous Jay commented.

Matt enjoyed the show; the boy was a bit skinny to his taste, but his friends were cute. When the tykes were done and turned towards him, he felt a pang of anguish at the hungry stares.

“How to bind the big boy?” Léo asked.

“Tight!” Ethan replied, getting Jay to chuckle.

“Indeed! Let’s hogtie him behind Dylan, it’ll be faster.”

They seized Matt and had him hop to the table, where he had to lie face down. His upturned nose was less than a foot from Dylan’s bottom. They brought his feet to his bum and locked the cuffs to his harness. They then used ropes, threaded through the D-rings, to pin him to the table. They took a few steps back to admire their handiwork.

“It looks good, and they’re secure,” Ethan boasted.

“Yeah, they’ll be there when we come back with more prisoners,” Jay replied.

“The big boy is looking at your bum, Dylan. Don’t gas him!” Léo joked.

“Just keep still, boys. We’ve got to go, but once we win, we’ll have lots of fun together,” Jay laughed, leading his group outside the hall.

He peeked before stepping outside the Lodge’s door. Still no one. The convoy could go back to the camp, but the cautious Cub still walked some tens of feet in front.

Ethan and Léo followed, keeping mum and pulling their cart. The future looked bright for their Six. They saw Jay raise his hand and disappear among ferns. They left the cart on the path and hid behind big trees.

Running steps.

“A Hen!” Jay said.

Ethan and Léo stepped out of their hiding trees as the racing boy reached them. It was Alex, who tried to slow down and jump into the woods, but landed in Ethan’s arms.

“Tag!” he whispered in his ear.

“Darn,” the caught boy said.

Jay joined the group, with a grin from ear to ear.

“This was so easy. Why did you Hens decide to split? This is a silly tactic!”

“It was Liam’s idea; we’re hunting for loot and trying to find the camps before we attack … ”Alex whined.

“We did the same … an hour ago! Now, how come you didn’t see the other Foxes? They’re two hundred yards away at the most!”

“I saw them, but I bypassed your camp. We fear the Foxes, don’t you know?”

“True,” Ethan observed, “too bad there were three more Foxes ahead! I guess you’ll have to be with the five of them now.”

“He can pull the cart,” Léo offered.

“Good idea. No funny stuff, Alex, and we might take it easy on you,” Jay said.

The convoy arrived at the camp within a couple of minutes. Luke and James quit tormenting Ben and Lewis, which had kept them occupied for the half hour their teammates were gone.

“Nice catch,” Luke praised when they reached the camp. “We can go get another piece of the loot. Soldier or Football Player this time?”

“I wouldn’t mind one of the lads in their nice footie kits,” Ethan said, “but we’ve handled most of the Vipers, and their camp is a bit closer. Everyone is OK to go pick another one of them Soldiers?”

Ethan got a consensus.

“Who will guard the camp? I wouldn’t mind a little action this time,” Luke said.

“I’ll guard the prisoners,” Léo said. “Are you gagging Alex?”

“Please, no,” the captured Hen pleaded. “I swear I won’t say a thing to my team.”

To Lewis’s and his teammates’ great surprise, Luke agreed.

“OK, but you can’t say a word before they’re in the circle.”

Jay and Ethan looked miffed; but they knew Luke and Alex went to the same school and that their parents were acquaintances. Luke always protected the younger Cub.

“I swear, Cub’s honour,” Alex replied, making a V with his right hand, solemnly placing his left palm over his heart.

It was enough for the quartet to leave Alex and Léo on their own. With their rucksacks replenished with gear, they set to catch another Soldier.

The two Cubs chatted quietly, but Léo’s attempts at extracting information from their new captive didn’t get very far. Alex knew the less he said, the better it was.

“Well, zen, I need to pee. Don’t do a stupid thing, Alex, you’ve sworn!”

Alex promised he’d play by the rules again. Léo had to be far away to relieve his bladder.. As soon as the French boy was out of sight, Alex turned to Lewis, the closest Boy-Scout, a coy grin brightening his mug.

“The Commander didn’t say anything about not releasing you, did he?”

A sneaky, treacherous lad! Lewis couldn’t believe his luck. He nodded furiously.

“So, if I untied you, you could go and warn my friends I’ve been caught?”

Lewis agreed. His mates saw an opening, at last.

Léo’s return interrupted the questioning. He held a bag in his hands and put it down, out of Alex’s reach.

“You’ve been good,” he told Alex. “I’ll have a little walk, but I won’t be far away.”

His demure attitude hid something. Alex wondered about the bag’s content and the sudden need to ‘have a walk’ when there were prisoners to torture instead. Well, he couldn’t get out of the circle, but the Boy-Scout could. Once Léo was far enough, Alex kneeled next to Lewis and reached for the knots keeping his arms in the taxing reverse prayer.

Lewis’s arms tingled as circulation came back. The lad worked fast, so his ally could run away if the French Cub was back. The lad even unlocked the gag with the key hanging from Lewis’s neck. A thread of drool dribbled over his shirt, yet Lewis let out a faint “Thank you.”

“Can you go get the bag for me? I can’t get out of the circle.”

“Sure.”

Lewis jumped to his feet, holding himself to the trunk as he was a bit dizzy; he slowly went to get the bag. He spotted, on top of ropes, tape, scarves, and three vials marked ‘Chloroform.’ He pretended to stretch, bag in left hand, and he crossed his arms behind his shoulders, picking one of the vials. He slowly walked towards Alex, displaying his best benevolent and friendly persona.

He handed the boy the bag and let him kneel to study its contents. Lewis got his neckerchief off his neck and slowly opened the vial, tilting it to let its content drop on the cotton. Ben and Nicholas were on the right side to see him. They held their breath.

“Hey, the Commander said there wasn’t much loot, but there is even chlorofrMMmmgrmmmmblll …”

Lewis held tight; having forty pounds on his opponent meant the fight was short-lived. The boy soon dropped at his feet like a rag doll. Lewis was about to free Ben when he saw the blond twerp in the distance. He stood, hiding behind the trunk. The little blighter didn’t have a clue that Alex had betrayed the Cubs. Léo saw Billy, Ben, and Nicholas from the side. He wasn’t even wondering about Alex, thinking he was still in front of the Boy-Scout he couldn’t see.

When Léo saw his fellow-Cub lying on the ground, it was too late. The older boy had pounced on him already, bringing the sickly Chloroform fumes to his nostrils. Lewis’s hand held in a tight arm-lock, and Léo had to surrender to the power of narcotics: he saw a whirlpool flash before he fainted.

Lewis crouched to untie Ben, which went quick. He then kneeled next to Nicholas.

“Free Billy first, you’ll remove your gag later!”

Once the three Boy-Scouts were freed, Lewis tackled binding the two Cubs, who would soon wake up from their artificial slumber. He did their wrists with rope at the small of their backs first, then their ankles. He heard the click of his friends’ gag locks opening and moans of relief.

“Darn, Lewis, I can’t believe we got this lucky,” Ben said.

“Standing at last,” Nicholas said, stretching and recovering from the long time in their excruciating frog-tie.

“I’m not for narcotics,” Billy said, “but this time … It’s a nice thing to have. They went down in less than a minute, the two of them. Without a noise too. Congrats, Lou, well done. I couldn’t see much, but I like what I see now,” he sighed, looking down at the two Cubs, bound hand and foot.

“If we believe this ‘Commander,’ they should wake up soon, so let’s welcome them back with a nice gag.”

“I wish it was the other guys in their Six,” Nicholas added. “There are scores to settle with yesterday’s bastards. Luke and this son of a bitch Ethan!”

They let steam off for a minute or two while picking scarves and tape from the bag. Alex and Léo didn’t wake up fast enough, so Ben decided he would help. He grabbed Léo’s chin and pushed a consequent but not overly big ball of cotton inside his mouth. Billy had the roll of tape, and he delicately stuck strips to seal the sleeping boy’s lips.

Nicholas had unknotted Léo’s neckerchief and folded it in a band that he wrapped around his lower face; the tightening coincided with the boy coming back to his senses. There was no bout of screaming and struggling, just dark looks.

Alex got his mouth stuffed and taped too, but he recovered quicker and delivered a flurry of insults that the thick mass of cotton swallowed entirely.

“Now, lad, I think you should be polite with your elders, especially when they’ve got you trussed up and gagged,” Lewis smiled.

The rest of his patrol agreed, all eager to get some revenge on the Cubs.

“With all those vials of narcotic, we should be able to kidnap all of the little blighters,” Nicholas said, feeling at last having the upper hand in the rigged game they’d been made to join.

“From what we heard, the Football Players are close to the Club House,” Billy said, “and some Cubs are restrained over there.”

His three teammates knew what they had to do. They filled bags with all the gear they needed and set off.

“You should still be here when we’re back, you don’t want to miss our initiation rites!”

“Grmmmrmmm!”

“Grmmmph.”

TBC
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Post by Bondwriter »

Two chapters for this final instalment.

The Great Tournament 2: Second Round

Chapter 13: Getting the Upper Hand

The four Boy-Scouts treaded lightly on the path, savouring their newly found freedom, their senses on alert; the Cubs still outnumbered them. They walked the five hundred yards separating them from their destination without hearing or seeing anything suspicious.

They spotted their friends’ jerseys through the foliage and quickly crouched for a stealthy approach. The only Cubs in sight were two bundled-up ones squirming at the feet of the Saint Sebastian boys tightly bound to the tree.

It took the arriving boys less than five minutes to remove their friends’ padlocks and bonds. The freed teen boys stretched their limbs to recover from the hours bound against the bark while their saviours turned around, scrutinizing the surroundings for coming opponents.

“I’m glad you came and saved us,” Keith cheered. “Let’s get away and trap the other ones,” he said, coiling the ropes he’d removed from himself and cramming them in his rucksack.

“You will come with us,” Lewis told Owen and Finley. “You’d better behave, or I’ll let Philip handle you.”

Philip stepped over the bound pair, a rope in hand, and flashed the two Cubs his widest grin.

“I’ll give you a hand, Lou. These naughty Cubs can always use a lesson in knots.”

Owen and Finley were highly impressed; they didn’t struggle when Stéphane, Philip, and Lewis got them to their feet and hobbled their ankles to march them back to their camp. The walk was eerily silent, and so was the countryside. The absence of wind made them aware of the least creak under their shoes.

Léo and Alex were still wriggling on the floor when they got back, trying to release each other’s wrists.

“I knew we shouldn’t linger on. See? They’re about to pull a Houdini. We can’t have it, can we?” Lewis triumphed as he redid the knots better than the first time. “We’ve got four of them, and there’s one in the Hunting Lodge with Matt. It’s time we free the Soldiers.”

Keith and Sora volunteered, letting their friends secure the Cubs. The duo had vials and rags at the ready, as well as ropes, cuffs, and padlocks. They tiptoed to their destination, but no one showed up. The building was empty, save for the two restrained boys at the back of the hall. Dylan was ball-tied and supine; Matt lay face down, his head close to Dylan’s bum.

“Hey Matt, you found something interesting to look at?” Sora laughed.

“Grmmrtrmmmmfmmrmmm!”

“Yes, I’ll free you!”

Sora worked hard and fast. Keith looked at Dylan, picking the knots that kept him pinned to the sturdy piece of wood first.

“We’ll take you with us, young man. I’m sure my teammates will be delighted to have you join our group,” he said, his grin worrying the thirteen-year-old.

Dylan had time to imagine who would be glad to see him once back at the tree. Framed by three teenagers, he pictured the boys he’d kept trussed up the day before. Each of them could be planning their own retaliation.

Things looked bright for the Boy-Scouts. On its way back from the Hunting Lodge, the group heard screams and loud curses that ceased abruptly. When they arrived at the tree, the six Saint Sebastian lads that stayed behind were busy trussing up three bold Foxes. Luke was getting a kneeling hogtie, though some argued it was technically a ball-tie too.

Léo had gotten a new tie-up involving a stick that went at the back of his knees and to which Philip had bound his wrists.

“Hey, how is it going, Matt?” the knot-tier greeted. “I’m just done shutting up this French pipsqueak,” he said, finishing the square knot of a scarf over the boy’s nape.

Nicholas and Billy had taken good care of Luke; they had packed a sock in his mouth and wound the grey roll of duct tape three times around his head. Keith and Sora brought Dylan in Philip’s line of sight, who stared at the lamb brought to the slaughter, running his tongue over his teeth.

The boys then turned to Sam. “You’ve sealed your fate that afternoon in the Lodge, boy,” Nicholas snarled. “If you thought we’d never get the tables turned on you, we’ll have to show you, shan’t we?”

“I won’t let you down when you teach this one a lesson,” Philip said, a twinkle in his eye.

The Saint Sebastian boys all longed for revenge, and they had very accurate memories of who had done what.

“You Cubs will have to pay the price for being so arrogant,” Philip stated dryly. “I’ll stay to guard you with my friend Lewis. There are still three of us to free and more annoying little pests roaming the estate to abduct.”

The rescue party got equipped and ready. After making sure Lewis and Philip could fight back an attack, they left at a good pace.

Nicholas spotted motion to his right a short distance after the fork. He turned to Billy, pointing at the foliage. The orange spot was unmistakable: Ethan! They could settle a matter or two with him, all alone in the woods.

They split to get a clamp on him from both flanks. When Ethan became aware of their presence, it was too late. He couldn’t believe he’d missed them as they jumped and brought him face down to the ground.

Ethan identified his captives from the day before. He’d had his fun with them. They didn’t look like they were about to run away when he’d last seen them, though. He sensed the lust for revenge as they kept him in a tight arm-lock and clamped a hand over his lips.

The boys crammed a big ball of—clean—fabric inside his gob and used a coil of thin rope to trap the wadding inside.

“You’re Ethan, then,” Billy whispered. “We’re going to bind you now, and we’ve all dreamed of some payback for yesterday, so don’t make it worse for you. Don’t add any demerit to your tally … unless you want to offer yourself as gift.”

The unambiguous talk got Ethan to comply, and they got his arms box-tied thanks to the abundance of ropes.

As the pack marched him towards the Farm, the boys spotted a small crowd to their right.

Jason, Fred, and Marc were being released by the rest of the gang. Nate was till writhing in his bonds, as were Owen and Finley. A bound shape lay at his sides: Jake, the guard who’d faithfully kept watch. He had been treacherously put down by Keith and a pad of chloroform..

Some recovering and taking charge of the Cubs later, the rescue party could declare victory and return to the clearing they’d made their camp. Owen, Finley, Ethan, and Jake—the Saint Sebastian boys were slowly clearing the field.

Halfway through, Nicholas and Billy spotted a bright spot: a Hen’s shirt! They chased the boy, who heard them coming immediately. But they spaced themselves to be able to attack from different angles and cover enough field if the runner shifted course abruptly.

The boy just wasn’t fast and tough enough for the two better-trained teenagers. They caught him as he tried to climb down and up a large ditch. The muddy bottom made the boy slip. His chasers had jumped straight across the other side and grabbed his shoulders to pull him up.

Because he was a younger one and hadn’t personally tormented his captors, he got a mild treatment: cuffs behind his back and decent hobbles for walking.

The return to camp was triumphant. The Cubs knew who they dealt with and complied, progressing at a cautious pace. Cameron fell on the honour field as they made their way back; he felt a duty to fight when he saw the older teenagers detaining so many of his den. It was his second year as a Cub, but the first in this peculiar group, so he kept a low profile. Being last to be captured put one in the spotlight.

Jason snatched Cameron effortlessly, handgagging him while picking him off the ground, leaving the boy pedalling in the air. Fred was close by with a coil of rope that he wrapped around the boy’s ankles, hampering his struggle.

Rather than using the nifty contraptions, they used a ball of cloth, tape, and scarves to keep him quiet. Fred didn’t remember the boy, who had made himself discreet, a looker gone unnoticed. He had to be of Caribbean descent, or one of his parents was black. He had long eyelashes and big dark-brown eyes.

“You’re all set,” Fred smiled as Jason made sure the wrists couldn’t be unknotted. They got back to the Boy-Scouts’s tree cheerfully.

James had been added to the tally; left alone, he went for a suicide mission. The camp’s defenders didn’t even use the narcotic, enjoying the vindictive boy’s struggles as they immobilized his limbs. His insults and scorn ended up with his mouth filled with a sock held in by very thin rope that bit into the corners of his mouth and a sturdy swathing of tape to tidy the whole thing.

Once all the older boys were together, Billy stated it would be wise to move the captured Cubs to the Hunting Lodge, which would be easier to defend against the remaining ones. Two convoys in a row took place, the cart coming in handy to bundle the trussed-up Cubs on its flatbed.

A debate arose once all the captives had been transferred: should the nice ball-ties and hogties be left as they were, or should the Cubs spend a while in the large hall in more sustainable tie-ups?

Nicholas counted the Cubs and decided to go hunting for the last remaining one; Jason and Sora joined him.

Philip convinced a couple of his friends to enact swift and punishing discipline. Billy stood in the middle of the informal circle they’d made at the back of the room, watching the prisoners lying on the two large tables.

Pointing to his own lips and the ceiling, he gestured his dormmates that they were likely being recorded or even filmed. He made sure Philip had picked up on it.

“I hear you, Phil, we all have strong feelings towards the boys who spent a full afternoon torturing us yesterday. I wouldn’t mind whipping Ethan’s bum to a deep crimson or pulling Luke’s hair so he sheds tears. We’re the Saint Sebastian boys, though.”

“You’re right, Billy,” Lewis added. “After all, they’re competitors in this game, so we could show a little sportsmanship.”

“It’s true, my friends,” Philip approved, no worse than his friends at putting on a show. “We should spend a relaxed afternoon and get acquainted with our new friends.”

The atmosphere was genuinely friendly when they moved the Cubs to chairs, drawing a wide circle so they could see each other.

“I think we’re going to talk. I bet you Cubs have already interrogated a gagged prisoner? It takes longer than speaking, but we always find out what we want in the end,” Billy explained while binding Liam’s arms behind the chair.

Chapter 14: Back in the Saddle



The last Cub was brought back by Jason and Nicholas, who’d chased the frail kid for less than a minute. He looked afraid when they grabbed him; Nicholas felt merciful until he remembered the eyes and the face belonging to the boy who the day before had smothered him with a smelly sock. Sam. He could teach the lad a lesson.

“You’re lucky we’ve decided not to be too hard on you. Since you’re the last one standing, and we’re the good guys, we don’t seek revenge.”

Sam heard his captor’s words, but his deeds didn’t match them. The ropes binding his arms in a tight reverse-prayer position bit his skin and began hurting soon. Nicholas didn’t mind the twerp suffering.

The Saint Sebastian boys had all joined the act, talking to the Cubs in serious and supportive voices. They would have a fun competition of bound boys racing or going on a scavenger’s hunt.

The three hunters were puzzled when Billy freed Sam from the reverse-prayer position. Billy’s eyes and tone were enough to inform them of the ploy.

“Since we’ve finished early, we could thank our new friends for welcoming us at their camp last night and have them play sports and games!”

Nicholas tried to hide his frustration from not getting revenge, but he acquiesced for the greater good of the group.

Gathered around the tables, they talked at length of the possible competitions, asking their charges for approval.

“You prefer hopping to crawling, don’t you Dylan?” Philip asked, fighting to conceal his true feelings.

And so the afternoon went, with the Saint Sebastian gang having the boys jump, crawl, and writhe , keeping a score on who did best. They even took a break to have the Cubs drink, though the gags stayed off only as long as needed to have them chug down water.

Billy showed Philip and Nicholas his scoreboard. As if by magic, Luke, Ethan, and Dylan had scored the worst.

“We’ve had a fun afternoon, lads, haven’t we?” he asked in his best master of ceremonies voice. Gagged grunts approved. “To complete the afternoon, we’re going to take you all to the barn and store you away for your den masters or something …”

The older boys adapted the bonds for the walk, making the young boys’ hobbles the same length. Dylan, Ethan, and Luke got chest harnesses.

“You’re our guests of honour, and since you three ranked last in the competition, we’ll have you display our talent for punishing tie-ups. But you’ll see when we get to the barn.”

The three lads felt more at ease now, but a glance from Billy sent a chill down Luke’s spine. Was vengeance in the air?

The line of fifteen boys progressed on the path, held a foot apart by ropes around their necks. There were light taunts, but no whipping or spanking. Jason pulled the cart behind, loaded with all the content of the various bags that had been collected in the morning, including miles of rope.

Tying the Cubs to the beams in the barn turned out handy. The first twelve got a classic standing pole-tie, woven with care and made to look good as well as to restrain. They had the ninjas’ perfect work to compete with.

The three ‘losers’ were last. Philip brought Dylan to a beam and had him face it.

“Bend over,” Philip ordered.

Keith was ready and at his sides. He grabbed Dylan’s bound wrists and pulled them up towards the beam as the boy folded at the waist. Philip kneeled, coil in hand, and pushed Dylan’s ankles closer to the pole, where he bound them. He had more rope for the knees and waist, which he encircled tightly and pulled tight against the wood, immobilizing the kid in a painful and humiliating tie-up.

Ethan and Luke got the same treatment, and they got comments on their protruding butts. Philip was about to spank Dylan, whom he’d come to check on once they’d trussed up all fifteen Cubs, but Billy’s frown stopped him.

“I’m sure you and I will have lots of fun together another day,” Philip hissed, leaning so only the penitent would hear him.

In the distance, the bell tolled. The Saint Sebastian boys looked at each other. The ‘Commander’ should pay them a visit soon; they hoped they earned some time left unbound. They gathered in the middle of the square, feeling strength in numbers.

They didn’t wait for long. The sound of boots outside preceded the man in black and his goons. They didn’t say a word and, in a line, looked at the bound and gagged Cubs. The Commander, going around the square, stopped in front of the successful kidnappers.

“At last you don’t disappoint me. I’ll say passing on an occasion for revenge is a bit weird, but to each his own taste. You’ve done well this morning, and you managed this afternoon, so you’ll get a break. We’ve set up sleeping bags in the Hunting Lodge. Oh, there’s also a meal waiting for you.”

“Is the game over?” Billy asked, worried.

“Why would it be? I told you another one started tomorrow.”

“Are we going against the little kids again?” Lewis wondered.

The Commander liked the teenagers gagged better, but he kept his word.

“This will be different again, Lewis, but I don’t want to spoil the fun. Enjoy your evening, lads!”

End of the episode
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Post by Xtc »

Will there be long to wait for the next story?
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]Xtc[/mention] With the many sagas going on, I can't give a date, but it's definitely high on the list. The Saint Sebastian lads should get a chance to get better acquainted with these ruthless Cubs.
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Post by blackbound »

I couldn't agree more.
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Post by Bondwriter »

Rest assured that they will have further adventures!
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Post by blackbound »

Bondwriter wrote: 3 years ago Rest assured that they will have further adventures!
Still hoping these new adventures are upcoming!
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Post by Bondwriter »

blackbound wrote: 3 years ago
Still hoping these new adventures are upcoming!
As a matter of fact, I wrote a sequel last week; it's a smaller episode, but it'll be posted once it's edited. It shouldn't be too long.
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]blackbound[/mention] Here is the new story. Five chapters coming, and here is the first one!

Quite a Boarding School

The Great Tournament: New Alliances

Chapter 1 – The Meeting in the Meadow



Billy finished dressing up and looked forward to a morning of surprises and fun. Sleeping unrestrained allowed him to rest, and his mood improved after talking to his friends in the evening: the other Saint Sebastian boys and their two French additions, Marc and Stéphane. They all had overcome their initial fears of being kidnapped; as for the Cubs’s cruelty, Philip argued that submitting captives to stringent ordeals was part of the game anyway.

Each boy told his tale of torment, exaggerating the younger boys’ ruthlessness. Nicholas, for instance, recalled the butt paddling he got from Luke; Sora and Jason told of the honey spread on their bellies to attract ants. This led them to retire from the large quarters next to the dorm around midnight.

The ninjas woke the boys up at seven. Billy was surprised they didn’t restrain him. They just gave each of the twelve boys a thin canvas bag and told them they had to be ready by half past eight; Billy found his clothes for the day inside, a bright red footie kit: jersey, shorts, Speedos, and long stockings. The jersey even had his name embroidered on the chest. After showering, he put the clothes on, which were once again tailor-made—they fit tight while remaining comfortable and allowing easy motion.

He laced his black sneakers and jumped to his feet. As Billy left one of the five large shower stalls, he ran into Lewis, who was sporting the same outfit, though in a bright yellow. The close cut and the nylon’s shining enhanced his talkative friend’s curves; Billy wondered if his own figure was improved too. They went downstairs to have breakfast in the large dining room. Keith, Stéphane, and Nicholas were already there, spreading butter and jam on bread, and sipping chocolate milk or coffee. They were discussing the coming day and the implications of their jerseys’ colours; Nicholas’s was red, whereas the others’ were yellow.

“See, they’ve got the same colours,” Keith said when the newcomers entered.

“You’re smart fellows,” Lewis praised. “You’ve understood they split us into two teams. I hope the Reds get it through their head quickly that they’re going to be defeated by the Golden boys.”

He performed a two-second belly dance to show off.

“What’s nice about your yellow costumes,” Nicholas replied, “is that they won’t show when you wet your pants!”

The back-and-forth went on as the other boys trickled in. Philippe, Marc, and Matt wore yellow kits; Ben, Sora, Jason, and Fred were dressed in red. Billy reminded them of the time. They all finished their bowls and toasts and headed to the hall.

Spot on time, two ninjas appeared rather than the army of men in black the boys had expected. The two young men led the group outside. They walked towards the barn but veered to the left on a large pasture. At the top of a mast, a large pennant waved. It was split horizontally, the top yellow and the lower half red. A square knot was embroidered on it, the bright white silk thread contrasting with the colourful background.

The Commander and three ninjas stood in front of the flagpole. The Cubs were heading there from the other side of the meadow, the two groups gathering for an assembly; the tykes wore red and yellow football uniforms too. The two gangs met under the guards’ looks. The younger boys smiled and waved. Having a reputation to maintain, the Saint Sebastian boys amiably greeted them and turned to the Commander, the master of ceremonies.

The man’s grin grew behind his hood when he saw the campers’ obedience and politeness. When all eyes were on him and the only noise was a fly’s buzz, he opened his arms warmly.

“Good morning and welcome, lads. It looks like the weather will be pleasant today.”

A cloudless sky and a brisk morning air had greeted them, but the pounding rays would soon warm it up.

“You’re going to play a more basic game today. You’ve no doubt noticed we’ve made the teams in advance by having you dress up in two distinct colours. They will make it easy to see who’s on your team. This is handy, for today your aim is to spot the other team and make them your prisoners.”

His audience welcomed the simple setup with bright smiles.

“Both lairs are at the same distance from here: the Red team will have its headquarters in the Club House, and the Yellow team in the Hunting Lodge. It’s where you’ll store your prisoners. The first team to get ten captives inside their lair wins. Otherwise, the team with most captives by six this evening wins. If neither team has any captives at that time, both teams lose.”

The boys whispered among themselves. The Commander paused until they stopped.

“You will find your picnics in your respective camps, but not the bags of tie-up gear. We placed three duffel bags around the estate with all the Chloroform, ropes, tape, cuffs, padlocks, and silencing devices you may need. Your first move in the game, then, will be to find the gear and then devise clever ways to catch players from the other team. Any questions?”

Léo, a short, thin blond French Cub raised his hand. He wore a red outfit.

“Yes?”

“Is zere a trick to catch the prisoners?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like pulling a scarf in ze waistband.”

“No, it’s simple. You have to overpower your enemies or put them to sleep. Your team will have to plan the attacks. Now, I suggest you split up and get together with your teammates. I know getting acquainted yesterday was on the rough side; I hope you’ll be wise enough to avoid bickering. It’s in your best interest to rely on your teammates. Reds to my left, Yellows to my right.”

The crowd moved, the two colours drifting apart. Billy shook hands with Luke and offered him a genuine smile; he got a sincere one in return. No insults or frowns were a sign it would be a fun time. Billy reviewed the Commander’s words, picturing a way to get a head start.

“Are you ready, gentlemen? The game starts when the bell tolls, which should be any moment now.”

Naturally, Lewis set himself as the Yellows’s leader. He started jogging towards the Hunting Lodge, which got Billy out of his thinking; he turned to his teammates.

“Follow me.”

TBC
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Post by blackbound »

Hmmm, it just says ten captives, not ten captives from the other team............
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[mention]blackbound[/mention] Of course, rules are made to be interpreted! I hope this next chapter pleases the readers!

Chapter 2 – Speed Attack

The other Saint Sebastian boys and the two French guys got the message; the Cubs followed without contesting Billy’s leadership. He jogged to the end of the meadow. A hedgerow hid them from the Commander. He turned to address the troop.

“No time to waste. The Yellows expect us to go to the Club House. Lewis is predictable. He’ll run to their camp and grandstand on how to make prisoners. My idea is to go fast and strong. We chase them now, we catch them, and we bind them before they’ve got any gear.”

“But we have no gear either. How are we going to bind them?” Luke asked.

“They’ve got clothes and shoelaces, which will make for bonds and gags while we get the loot bags,” Billy replied.

Luke’s eye glimmered.

“Great idea!”

“Let’s split in four groups of three; we’ll stay within sight but I’m sure Lewis will have the tykes search the surroundings of the lodge, thinking the loot bags are there. Luke and Sora, you’ll come with me. Nick, you’ll take Léo and Liam with you. Jason and Fred, you’ll pair with Cameron and James.”

Billy’s determination and mastery got the group heated up. They jogged as the Cubs told of the hiding places and best ways to get close to the Hunting Lodge without being seen. Nicholas removed his jersey and tied its sleeves around his waist. His fellow Red players did the same, hoping their natural skin colours would blend in with the landscape better.

The four groups went different ways when they got to the woods; they agreed that a dense, concealing coppice would be their meeting point and hiding spot along with the captives they managed to snatch. Billy let Luke take the lead: the day before, he’d proved he knew the area better than most. The black boy acted as a silent scout, very proud to have two older boys following him.
They ended at the exact opposite from where Billy got caught the day before, on the other side of the clearing where the Lodge stood. The woods ended in a soft slope. Underbrush grew in a clearer spot, allowing the abducting trio to hide lying down on their bellies. They spotted yellow clothes moving tens of yards from them.

“They’re looking for the loot,” Billy whispered, almost bragging he’d guessed right. What was more remarkable, these Yellows apparently were on their own, even if not far away from each other.

Philip was heading towards the ambush. The other Yellows were nowhere to be seen. Philip crossed the clearing’s edge and walked up towards the hidden Reds at a good pace. The boys let him come as close as possible. Billy hoped the bushes were thick enough to conceal their bright red clothes.

They got lucky. Philip didn’t see them until Luke seized his ankles. Sora was on his feet and clamped a hand over the surprised victim’s mouth before he could try to warn his friends. They toppled Philip and Billy collected his arms behind his back, locking them with his hold.

Luke sat on the Yellow’s calves and removed his shoes and socks, throwing them to Sora, who quickly removed a shoelace and gave it to Billy. Sora wrapped the other one around Philip’s ankles and lifted his hand, which the victim tried to exploit.
“Helgrmmmmgrmmmm!!!”

The sound fainted as Sora crammed a big stocking inside Philip’s mouth. Billy tightened his grasp, which helped Sora insert the whole thing and use the other stocking to keep the stuffing in. Sora sat between the prisoner’s shoulder blades, grabbing his arms. Billy grabbed Philip’s wrists and used the long, thick cotton shoelace to bind them together.
Luke tore the jersey off, surprising the others.

“He won’t glow as much, and we’ll have more bonds.”

Sora and Billy helped him out, while underneath Philip wriggled and moaned in his gag. They used a strip of yellow nylon around his elbows, then one around his knees.

“Let’s move him away,” Billy said, grabbing one of the prisoner’s shoulders. Sora grabbed the other and Luke held Philip’s knees.

They checked the coast was clear and picked him up, heading away from the lodge through thick underbrush.

Three hundred feet away, behind a small mount, Nicholas and his new friends were on the lookout. They’d seen Yellows in the distance and noticed they weren’t exploring as a group. The small squad hid crouching behind a big tree and waited for a prey to come along.

Léo was lying down, slightly to the side, checking the path climbing towards them from the clearing. He raised his hand when he spotted a Yellow coming: Marc, another Frenchie. Léo had his shoelaces at hand, ready to pounce and bind his compatriot.

They all heard the steps approaching. Liam was eager to attack, despite being short and scrawny.

“You’ll handgag our victim,” Nicholas had whispered in his ear. “I’ll hold him.”

Marc saw his assailants too late. Liam jumped on the stunned boy’s back, locking legs around his waist and going for his mouth. Léo was already surrounding the Yellow’s calves with tightening laces. Nicholas crashed into the French boy, who was roughly his size though a bit bulkier.

Nicholas wrapped Marc’s wrists with a shoelace, cinching it tight. He told Léo to remove the captive’s shoes and socks. Liam held fast, his hand sealing the older teenager’s lips shut. Nicholas and Léo came to the help, the former sitting at the small of Marc’s back and the latter on his butt to pin the captive down. Léo handed the socks to Nicholas, who leaned forward, holding Marc’s head and filling his gob with his own stocking.

Nicholas wasn’t surprised at Marc’s attempt at screaming. But it was brief, high-pitched, and too faint to resound in the woods. Liam used the second sock to cleave-gag the victim, pulling tight on the ends before tying a square not on his nape.

“Let’s get him to the meeting point,” Nicholas ordered, getting his squad on the move.
They marched—or rather hopped—the captive to the nearby destination; Liam and Léo tore his jersey off on the way, arguing it would make him less strikingly visible. Nicholas told the Cubs to get long bits to restrain prisoners.


TBC
Last edited by Bondwriter 3 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by bondagefreak »

[mention]Bondwriter[/mention]
I just started reading this and as usual, I am at a loss for words about what to say.

Your style is unique and inimitable.
The pacing is fast (much faster than my own writing) but your words still manage to spin fantastically vivid imagery.

As you know from my comments on my other works, I love the rigorous gags, the bondage-work and the amusing shenanigans the Saint Sebastian boys also seem to be getting mixed up into.


I love how crafty, devious and devoted some of these guys are.
And yet I also admire how they seem to follow a certain honour code and don't let themselves get carried away too far.


The atmosphere your universe paints is what I enjoy most though.
There is a certain innocence about it and even though some of the predicaments could qualify as cruel and fierce, I find myself associating the word "FUN" to all of your stories.


Thank you for sharing your talent with us.
You are truly the gift that keeps on giving ;)
FOR A LIST OF ALL MY WRITTEN WORKS, CLICK HERE: BONDAGEFREAK'S STORIES

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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention]
Thanks a lot for the comment! I enjoy hearing positive things about the stories. :)
Though The Boarding School saga started as a smutty story, the feedback when posted on the boards in the mid-aughts led to the saga. The characters that came along were modelled on board members, or at least who they said they were.
The boy-scout novels of my youth were an inspiration, with groups living their adventures far from monitoring adults. With everyone involved liking both ends of the ropes, in an environment with lots of room and a good supply of tie-up gear, it's always fun having the characters run around for another adventure. And ending up bound and gagged at some point.
As for the writing, Nicholas is a great help, and he makes it snappier and clearer with his thorough edits.
It's nice knowing the team efforts please the target audience!
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Post by blackbound »

They certainly do, though I can't lie - still waiting for Luke to get his. :lol:
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Post by nchlsh »

Being portrayed in a story by one of your favorite writers is great motivation to help! Glad you guys are liking it. And don't worry, there's enough revenge to please supporters of all teams!
Bondwriter wrote: 3 years ago @bondagefreak
Thanks a lot for the comment! I enjoy hearing positive things about the stories. :)
Though The Boarding School saga started as a smutty story, the feedback when posted on the boards in the mid-aughts led to the saga. The characters that came along were modelled on board members, or at least who they said they were.
The boy-scout novels of my youth were an inspiration, with groups living their adventures far from monitoring adults. With everyone involved liking both ends of the ropes, in an environment with lots of room and a good supply of tie-up gear, it's always fun having the characters run around for another adventure. And ending up bound and gagged at some point.
As for the writing, Nicholas is a great help, and he makes it snappier and clearer with his thorough edits.
It's nice knowing the team efforts please the target audience!
I write and edit stories: https://www.deviantart.com/nchlsh
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Post by Bondwriter »

I got lots of feedback this week. Thanks, friends. Here is this week's instalment of The Great Tournament: New Alliances.



Chapter 3 – Stealthy Abductions



Ben followed the Cubs: Owen knew the area like the back of his hand, and Ethan was stealthy, going down on all fours to scout the potential hiding spot to trap a prey. The brown-haired boy removed his jersey and tied the sleeves together around his waist too, hoping to be more difficult to spot. Ben didn’t get lost in watching his peers, though.

They reached a stone wall, the remnant of an ancient building. There were two walls, actually, since a corner had subsided, the rest of the house having disappeared. It made a good hiding place. Cracks in the wall gave a view of the other side.

They saw Nate approaching in his jersey’s golden glory. The dirty blond mop of hair and his big blue eyes made him look cute. The twelve-year-old was wary, searching for loot bags or foes on the prowl. The boy didn’t know this location, which was a classic trap when playing around the Hunting Lodge. As he passed the corner, six arms grabbed and dragged him behind the thick stone screen that would hide him from his teammates. No sound was uttered.

“You’d better behave if you don’t want to suffer the consequences,” Ben whispered.

The captive nodded and proved docile, though his abductors still held him the whole time. Owen removed the boy’s socks—the agreed-upon gag for this situation. They removed his jersey before binding his wrists with one of his shoelaces. They hobbled him with the other one. Owen gazed through the stone cracks to make sure no other Yellow was coming, and they started to walk with their prisoner.



Jason enjoyed the game; being the leader of younger boys and having a handsome dormmate as his assistant felt great. The tykes were cute, and Fred wasn’t the worst looking of the Saint Sebastian lads. Cameron had a dark Caribbean complexion and big brown eyes that sparkled when he tied a knot. He didn’t say much. James was a lanky, ginger thirteen-year-old with striking green eyes and very light skin. His thick, dark eyelashes didn’t match Jason’s idea of redheads but made for a fascinating sight.

Of course, the bulky fifteen-year-old had only fleeting looks at his squad members; he remained focused on making their trap work. James had brought them to what he called a bombshell hole. It was twenty yards wide and around ten feet deep in the centre. The three hunters lay down on the sides, only their heads peering over the edge. They’d even cut branches with dense foliage to hide behind.

Alex and Finley appeared from the left, chatting softly. They were poking the bushes around with sticks in search of the duffel bags to start their hunting mission. The pair headed towards the stalker boys, which got their adrenaline up.

Jason turned to his acolytes, signalling with his hands he would handle Alex and they would take care of Finley. The two searchers kept prodding with their cut branches, coming closer and closer to the burrowed hunters. The terror in Alex’s eyes told Jason they had hidden very well indeed. The other ginger stopped dead in his tracks when a mountain of flesh leaped from the hole, extended two large arms closing around the frail body, and pulled him back inside the hole, any scream muffled by Fred’s palm. Jason cast a glance at his accomplices, who pounced on their target.

James grabbed Finley’s ankles and made him topple. Cameron collected him inside the hole, a quick handgag saving them from a long shriek that could have warned potential rescuers. Jason took control over his own catch; he turned Alex on his belly and sat at the small of his back, a huge hand holding two thin wrists, the other one silencing the victim, who did his best to fight the beast and make himself heard.

Cameron had planned ahead and removed one of his stockings, which he swiftly inserted between Finley’s lips. James picked a stolen shoelace and immobilized the victim’s ankles with two turns and a knot. With the other piece of cotton string, James moved up the brown-haired boy’s thighs to handle his wrists.

“His other sock!” Cameron asked in a whisper, and after receiving the stocking, he used it to secure the packed footwear. He straightened Finley’s eyeglasses.

The Cubs went to watch how Jason and Fred trussed Alex up.

Fred removed Alex’s shoes first; James couldn’t resist tickling the bare soles, throwing the boy into a fit. Jason kept his tight grip but shushed his partners, reminding them the enemies were nearby. The two Saint Sebastian lads applied their trade fast to impress the younger ones. Soon, Jason, Fred, and their new mates had their captives hopping back to the convened spot.



Jason’s squad arrived at the same time Billy and his gang did, framing the bound and gagged Philip. Sora and Luke cheered their pals silently with thumbs up for managing a double catch. They whispered what they should do next. Jerseys were torn, and six boys had a brainstorming session on how to best restrain the three prisoners.

Nicholas, Liam, and Léo joined them fifteen minutes later, dragging Marc in tow. James got out of hiding once certain the visitors were allies and waved to them to come inside the bush. Behind a branch stood a path that led to a patch of lawn ten yards ahead where three hogtied or frog-tied boys squirmed, casting nasal whines. The sock wadding and the cleave had been reinforced with torn sleeves that became over-the-mouth scarves.

Philip’s cheeks bulged: Billy had added a piece of torn jersey to the wadding to shut him up better, which delighted Luke and James. They all helped restraining Marc, who was tall and athletic and needed special care to prevent an escape.

Ben’s patrol got back soon after. They carried Nate, all bound and gagged, and dropped him with his friends, who were all severely restrained with shoelaces and their own torn footie kits. The Cubs were busy camouflaging the bright-coloured shorts with ferns folded at both ends and stuck under the shorts’ waistband and up the legs. They needed many, but the dark green eventually hid the bright shiny nylon.

Nate got hogtied while his captors discussed what to do next.

“The Yellows have split to get the duffel bags and the gear, but they’re likely to regroup,” Billy explained, grabbing Nate’s chin and looking into his eyes. “That’s what Lewis planned?”

His authoritative tone worked on the relative stranger, who nodded.

“It’s been less than one hour. We should go for a second wave. We’ve got four of the twelve Yellows in the bag already.”

“Yeah, Billy,” Sora agreed. “We catch four more and we’re close to an awetastic victory!”

“Six more,” Nicholas, better at math, corrected his friend.

TBC
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