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

[blackbound]

I'd forgotten about Cameron! Another one for my "wish list" next to Luke

[Bondwriter]

[mention]blackbound[/mention] Luke gets his share of the fun, and there are still more days to spend playing in this adequate environment.

[Bondwriter]

The final chapter of this short episode, but the Great Tournament isn't over ...

The Great Tournament: New Alliances

Chapter 4 – On a Roll


The whole team agreed with Billy, the leader the moment required. Two guards had to stay behind: Fred and Owen volunteered. The eager warriors were soon back on the battle path, crouching and heading back to trap more Yellows.

“We found the best place to hide. At least ten people can fit behind that wall. Even if it’s more than one boy and they’re chasing one of us, we can jump on them and they’ll be bound before they can flee,” Ben strategized.

“We’ll move as a pack, and we’ll send pilot fish ahead,” Billy stated. “Ben and Léo, you’ll lure the Yellows this way,” he pointed to the right of the ruin.

Ben and Léo went on their scouting mission, moving stealthily and covering a wide area. Eventually, after moving close to the edge of the wall, where it turned to the lawn around the Hunting Lodge, they spotted yellow figures behind the foliage. Moving along the edge, Ben slowly veered inside the woods.

He hurried while remaining low, bending his knees. Léo kept up easily. They were a hundred yards from the wall. A quick glance over his shoulders gave Ben great satisfaction; Lewis was teaming with Keith and one of the Cubs followed along: Dylan, if Ben remembered correctly.

“Now!” Ben hissed between his teeth, starting his sprint. Lewis heard steps coming behind him, but thinking he hadn’t been spotted, he didn’t yell or make a sound.

“Heeeeeey!” Ben warned his ambushed friends in a measured voice.

The rest of the Reds were ready and darted out of cover at the perfect moment: the three Yellows saw them too late. With three captors per victim, the capture was swift, efficient, and quiet. Luke handgagged Lewis, who insisted on giving his foes a piece of his mind, though any specifics were lost in the muffling palm.

The Reds rejoiced and celebrated by binding their captives tight and then carefully tearing off their jerseys to get the longest possible strips.

“Let’s make three neat bundles. We can take them to the Club House with the other prisoners. Five of us should watch the camp, and the others can go in pairs to find a duffel bag. Once we’ve got equipment, it’s like we have won,” Billy summed up.

Lewis fumed, and so did Keith. He was usually the best at changing course in a chase, but he had fallen in a trap for beginners, and with Cubs to witness his blunder. The Reds’ good mood and lead in prisoner count annoyed him too. He regretted letting Lewis handle the strategy.

The three captives were brought back to their feet wearing their unlaced shoes and restrained with a network of tightly bound red nylon lengths; the troop led them back to their temporary camp. The boys kept as quiet as possible, but the Reds celebrated their success.

Their smiles disappeared after ten minutes of walk when they saw Fred on the ground, wriggling in his bonds. Owen, the black-haired Cub, had disappeared. And so had the Yellows.

Nicholas rushed to remove Fred’s gag, a yellow sock kept in by a strip cleave-gagging him.

“They took Owen! I went to take a leak and I must have gone too far, I didn’t hear a thing. That boy Nate managed to untie his wrists. When I came back, they’d already freed themselves, all of them, and they took me by surprise!”

The Yellows who’d just been caught smiled behind their gags at the prospect of the tide turning around. Billy was quick to recover from their discovery.

“Let’s split before they’re back and look for the loot bags. If we get our hands on Chloroform, we’ll have an advantage.”

“We’ll store the prisoners in the Club House, where we can see enemies approaching from a distance,” Luke suggested.

“Great idea,” Ben added. “Time to grab a bag. If Lewis is not carrying gear, it means the Yellows haven’t found a loot sack yet. There should be one closer to our own headquarters.”

The Reds were done talking; it was time for action. They lengthened their prisoners’ feet bonds so they could walk; Billy and his team would accompany the three captives and the other groups would spread a couple tens of yards apart to cover as much ground as possible.

Nicholas let Léo and Liam take the lead; their squad trio would be on the right side end of the line their search party formed. Shirtless and crouching, the Cubs went from cover to cover: the undergrowth and small trees.

They crossed a pasture, getting close to the Club House. Léo and Liam got down on all fours.

“There’s a clearing ahead, and it’s flat,” Liam whispered to the older member, who followed suit. They moved fast, Nicholas marvelling at how his young allies avoided twigs and advanced in complete silence.

After five minutes, Léo turned around, smiling.

“Look!”

Nicholas followed the finger pointing forward. A fluorescent orange spot stood a hundred feet ahead. The boys cautiously rose and headed to the centre of the clearing where they’d spotted what had to be a loot bag.

Nicholas imitated his teammates when they fell on their bellies. They’d entered the clearing and its tall grass. Coming from the adjacent side of the clearing, Stéphane and three Cubs showed up, bare-chested and wearing their jerseys around their waists.

Liam turned to his mates.

“Follow me!”

He sprung to his feet and rushed towards the orange bag, with Nicholas and Léo on his heels. The Reds accelerated their pace and saw Stéphane pick it up, then rush back inside the woods.

The three Cubs with him—Daniel, Dylan, and Jake—followed the group’s leader, running away from the attackers. Nicholas worried that chasing them could lead his group into the hands of more Yellows waiting in ambush. He was about to call his partners to quit the chase when Dylan tripped over a root. His friends were ahead and didn’t notice his fall.

Liam and Léo were on him, the blond French boy sitting unceremoniously between his shoulder blades and imposing a playful but effective handgag.

“Let’s bind him and rush back to the Club House. We need to warn them that the Yellows took one of the duffel bags.”

Dylan didn’t need his jersey removed, but it was torn adequately. He was given a proper demonstration of how to bind an enemy with his own clothes, a skill the opposite team had developed.

“Let’s get moving,” Nicholas sternly said once they had their charge on his feet. “We need to regroup and go after Stéphane.”

Dylan’s knees were hobbled with one of his jersey’s long sleeve. He didn’t hinder the progression. At the Club House, the news brought consternation to the rest of the Yellows.

TBC

[snowylocks]

I'm gonna hold of on reading this one, cuz you forgot chapter 4, I think.

[Bondwriter]

I'm gonna hold of on reading this one, cuz you forgot chapter 4, I think.

Thanks for pointing this out, and soory for those who've been spoiled. Problem fixed, chapter 4 is up.

[Bondwriter]

Here is the final chapter, for those who weren't spoiled last week. [mention]blackbound[/mention] I hope you like this ending. Rest assured more will happen in the future.

The Great Tournament - New Alliances

Chapter 5 – Twists and turns



“We’ll have to run after them, but we have enough manpower to go get the second bag too,” Billy said. “And someone will have to keep watch here. We can’t let these scoundrels pull the same trick again.”

Ben and his sidekicks would watch the camp; the rest would stay in the same groupings, with Nicholas, Jason, and Billy going after Stéphane and the loot. Sora and Fred would go hunting for the other bag. The Cubs and their mates listed the places to check. The team’s assumptions targeted the guard’s house and the small cave.

Sora and Fred decided to stay as a pair and started with the closest target: the little brick house where Sora tried to hide the day before. After three minutes, they arrived and approached stealthily. Fred entered first, but the assailants on each side of the door waited for both visitors to enter before grabbing them and administering a good dose of Chloroform.

Sora did shake and writhe in reaction to the attack, but the devilish narcotic didn’t give him enough time to break free. Consciousness returned gradually. His brain worked fine, but he needed to run the checklist. He was bound. Ropes. Cuffs around his ties. Frog-tie. Spreader bar. Wrists and elbows bound. Back to a tree. His shirt, removed. Mouth filled with a rubber bladder. Crapcakes, they’d done a good job!

Sora turned his attention to his surroundings. Fred was in a tight hogtie, his wrists and ankles wrapped in leather and padlocked around the same ring. He was also sporting a strap gag, one with a solid plug. Tyler was adding a strap to cinch Fred’s elbows. James and Owen wriggled in ropes, their feet and hands kept together. Stéphane appeared, pushing Nicholas in front of him.



They were in front of the house, a meeting point for the Yellows. Tyler guarded the prisoners along with Nate, the blue-eyed lad with shaggy dark blond hair. The boy spotted Sora had come to his senses and came to taunt him.

Shouts and screams echoed around them. Discretion was no longer in order, and the Yellows were performing the last catches.

Lewis’ boisterous appearance was further proof that the Reds’ demise was close and that much had changed during Sora’s involuntary nap. He and his sidekick Philip pushed Billy and Luke in front of them.

Less than half an hour later, the Reds had to admit defeat. Just two of the fourteen Reds had not been caught—Cameron and Jason— and the Yellows had both duffels bags and all the equipment.

“Billy, my good friend,” Lewis taunted, playing to his crowd of younger minds, “I admire your boldness and this blitzkrieg strategy of yours. You almost got me fooled, and for one moment, when you caught us, I really thought you could get the better of us. Of course, our cunning, our running speed, our nose for puzzles, and our ability to coordinate a large group made the difference. But I won’t bore you or my teammates with a detailed analysis of your failure. We’ve got to take these miscreants back to our headquarters to make our victory official. What should we do with them then?”

“We can practice knots and get them in really strict tie-ups so they can’t move at all!” Finley offered.

“I fink we may experiment ways to bind zem togezer,” Stéphane added.

The Yellows had a brainstorming session, designing creative uses for the gear available in the bags.

“That’s all nice and dandy, but we said we’d eat when we’re there, so let’s get moving,” Keith interrupted, earning Lewis’s frown. Nevertheless, the flamboyant general helped out hobbling the captives. Each Red was linked with rope to the one in front and the one behind, except for Billy and Nicholas, the first and last in line.

The Yellows bounced around them. The Cubs, emboldened by Lewis’s speech, gave Fred and Sora motivational smacks on their butts. Some of the Yellows, thankfully, had their hands full. Not only had they captured most of them in record time, they also had grabbed all the gear in the Club House. A cooler and a box full of food awaited the Reds.

The Yellows wore their opponents’ jerseys tied as trophies around their necks, as football scarves snatched from the rival club. The loud procession’s screams and taunts reverberated inside the wide tiled hall as they entered the Hunting Lodge.

“Time for food,” Keith said, opening the box and the cooler. The Reds were made to wait standing while the Yellows had their picnic and Lewis bragged about his strategic acumen. He polled his young followers on how to best use the game’s losers to practice their craft and tried to trade tricks between different generations.

They lingered at the table, fraternizing around the gourmet meals the Commander’s suppliers provided. Stéphane suggested they feed the leftovers to their captives, invoking the Geneva Convention. Lewis humoured his foreign friend, whom he found cute.

Billy and Nicholas were separated from their chain gang and brought to one of the large tables. They were spread-eagled on each end, their feet touching. They were wearing shorts only.

“Your plates, gentlemen,” Lewis sniggered, turning to the rest of the Reds.

The Saint Sebastian boys in the Yellow team appreciated the additional fun of having more people play their games. It made the meal move faster, and these tykes were sharp and fun to watch; they grabbed a captive, removed his gag, and forced him to take the salad or the crisps from Billy’s and Nicholas’s naked belly. The refilling coincided with a handgag, ‘just in case,’ Matt told the Cubs.

Once the captive swallowed his modest meal, others wiped his face and got his muzzle back on. The chain work proved efficient. Once half of the prisoners had eaten, Matt offered to replace the ‘plates.’ Sora and Luke got the job. The suggestion got the Yellow Cubs ecstatic, and they busied themselves with the job at hand. They’d gulped down large amounts of cola sodas, and the sugar and caffeine got them rattled.

Philip proposed a workshop involving ropes and total immobilization, with performances filmed to document their talent. They had two cameras they could use with two tables to work on the prisoners faster.

Nicholas was first: Keith watched and helped Alex and Finley make the best possible ball-tie. Nicholas witnessed his friend’s ability to train others in skills he actually mastered. His forearms were held closely together and pulled against his trunk, his knees on his chest, the balls of his heels pressed against the gleaming red shorts. The two apprentices followed the lesson enthusiastically and tightened the setting until the victim became a tight bundle.

Ben was bound along with Léo. They faced each other, sitting on the ground, and the older teen had his legs tied together with ropes around the French boy’s thighs, above and below his knees. Léo’s ankles were bound outside and below Ben’s knees. Thankfully, he didn’t reach the younger boy’s crotch with his feet, which would have been improper.

The two prisoners had to lean into each other. Collared and forced to stay bent down, they rested their heads on each other’s shoulder. The unlikely couple got taunts.

“Too bad you’re gagged, Léo, or you could kiss your boyfriend,” Dylan taunted.

Each round of prisoners got a new position, and the immobilizing goal was reached every time. The boys all paid full attention to the task, having past experience to build upon.

The captives were left on the tables and the Yellows decided to take a break under the mid-afternoon sun. They sat on the lawn, sipping beverages. Any previous feud was lost in the spur of the moment, and the team brainstormed on how to have further fun with the Reds, without any apparent concern that half of them were their usual mates. The boys spoke loudly and boisterously as they discussed the possibilities.

“Let’s bind them in pairs. We’re generous enough to let them have a friend to share their ordeal. I’ll have Luke and Liam bound sitting face to face and embracing!” Alex said.

The group got ready to enact their ideas; they’d have gone on, had Jason and Cameron not showed up trying to sneak inside the Hunting Lodge while the Yellows were having their break. The chase was short. Jason fought hard, but Philippe, Matt, and Stéphane brought three Cubs with them. Thirty seconds later, he headed into a dead end with thick shrubbery on all sides.

He faced his assailants, flexing his spread knees, ready to jump. He launched an attack, pushing two Cubs aside, but four other boys jumped on him, taking him rolling down. Six bodies and twelves arms all took a spot around him to hold his limbs. The overall weight and strength were too much, even for a hunk as Jason.

His attackers frogmarched him handgagged and with strong, unrelenting armlocks keeping him in line. Alex and Lewis handled Cameron with the rest of the group around to thwart any rebellion. They pushed their catches inside their lair.

“We’ve got two more guests, boys,” Lewis announced proudly. “And we’ve got four hours before the game is up. We’ll use them fully!”

The grins and the canine teeth on the Yellows’ faces had the Reds regret losing so easily.

End of the episode.

[blackbound]

I like these stories no matter what happens but thanks for thinking of me!

[Bondwriter]

[mention]blackbound[/mention] You're welcome! Luke being an eager player, he should be involved in further shenanigans, on both sides of the ropes.

[Bondwriter]

I'm happy to start posting a new five-chapter episode telling of our Saint Sebastian boys' summer adventure. Enjoy!

The Great Tournament 4: Dark Forces

Chapter 1: Victors, Spoils …



The Yellows had an exhilarating afternoon. The motley crew had fought together, vanquishing the game’s trials and the threat of defeat. The victory brought them joy as well was captives to play with. After forcing some of them to eat food from other prisoners’ bellies like human plates, the winners had decided to spend the afternoon learning from their counterparts. The team’s Cubs and Boy-Scouts mingled and traded tie-up tricks.

The Reds endured relentless taunts and inescapable bonds. They could only fume and hope the Yellows would make a mistake. One of theirs would escape, maybe? Ben, Billy, and Nicholas looked at each other. They were hogtied on one of the tables, their faces two feet away from the others.

Philip had shown the Cubs how to stuff mouths properly, and the boys were fast learners. They crammed three tightly rolled socks into each of their prisoners’ mouths, adjusting inside so they could close the lips for the taping that ensued. Billy had insulted them during the procedure, but his harangue was short-lived and the footwear crammed inside his gob stopped it dead in its tracks.

The worst for the three Saint Sebastian lads was their opponents’ attitude. They giggled, laughed, and burst into loud laughs whenever one was foolish enough to protest through their gags. The brats seemed to be even more joyful during the hogtying. The lads had their limbs united in pairs tightly linked to their bodies. Their folded legs would give them cramps after a while, and the bonds linking their knees to their forearms had them arched back, soon an unpleasant position.

Nicholas recalled the afternoon. The tykes, led by a gleeful Lewis, had gotten him into a ball-tie after having silenced him properly. Alex measured Nick’s head and picked one of the top-notch inflatable gags within the loot chest. At least he avoided socks or underwear crawling with germs. The ropes around all his joints, their tightness, which left some slack for circulation but prevented any movement, had him trapped, as well as ever. His treacherous Saint Sebastian companions had practiced enough to check the Cubs’ ropework.

Nick spent two hours in this strenuous position, his heels pushing into his crack, his calves melding with his thighs, his forearms welded to each other. The Yellows provided the rest of the Reds with a similar fate. They used many difficult positions: binding a leg with an arm, forcing them to bend over—creativity was encouraged.

Nicholas relaxed early on, which helped to endure his imposed immobility. Eventually, they were done with everyone and ready to start over. Nate was in charge. He decided Nicholas should be hogtied on the table along with his friends; he supervised the move, his goons holding fast to their victim’s limbs.

Thankfully, they didn’t trade the inflatable gag for another gross piece of underwear. They did think a stinky wad was needed. The Yellows removed their shoes and sniffed each other’s feet to find out whose socks smelled the strongest.

Philippe won easily, which made Nick shudder. He’d been treated with Philip’s footwear in the past; it had always motivated him to fight his bonds. Because of the foul stockings, he’d even managed to escape some tie-ups through brute force alone. Nate, holding the garment at arm’s length, brought it under Nicholas’s nostrils. With cotton cord, he fixed it onto the inflatable gag.

“Grmmmrphh!”

“We can’t have little rebels, can we?” he asked his friends.

They all shook their heads.

Nate pumped twice on the big, pliable rubber bladder, which made the pressure even higher. Hogtied face down, Nick was soon joined by Ben and Billy.

Philip took the youthful crowd to have some fun with Sora and Jason, making sure everyone in the Red team got his share of unpleasantness.

The hogtied trio communicated through fluttering eyelids fluttered and soft moans. They watched the Yellows, who weren’t very disciplined or organized. At some point, they took Fred, their handsome fellow-boarder, outside to pin him to the ground next to an anthill with honey in his belly button.

The whole ordeal didn’t last long: the famed anthill Daniel remembered from the summer before couldn’t be found. Fred got spread-eagled on the lawn, long tent pegs making formidable anchors for the ropes at his wrists and ankles. The Cubs, revealing their evil side, decided to tickle-torture him after adding to his gag; Fred got sweaty socks with viciously tight turns of duct tape to trap them in. The muffling apparatus had muffled his inextinguishable laughter.

Back in the Lodge, the hogtied threesome was still sharing their feelings of helplessness. It was of course more fun than solitary confinement and sensory deprivation. The Lodge was a beehive. Throughout the afternoon, the Yellows were in and out, binding and gagging the Reds, relaxing or chatting with their new friends about non-TUG-related topics.

This lack of focus and attention didn’t mean the trio had a chance to escape their bonds; when on their own, they’d contorted like worms over the table to reach each other’s knots, but they never managed to pick at them in any significant manner.

It earned them a reprimand from Stéphane, whose face they hadn’t seen much during the first four days at camp—tape or fabric had covered his mouth most of the time. His mischievous grin told of his enjoyment.

The trio witnessed Sora being taped, Jason being turned into a tight ball, Luke being frog-tied and having his own socks crammed in his mouth. The Cub prisoners weren’t treated more humanely; their peers were keen on making the bondage tight. Ethan was the subject of a shibari demonstration, a harness of coarse rope pinning his arms to his sides, with a mean crotch-rope and a stinky sock—Philip’s—to sniff as a final layer of a gag already featuring heavy packing and lots of tape.

Owen was put in a nasty predicament: his right leg was bound to that of a chair, his left one folded in two, ropes around his thigh and shin keeping it pinned. His arms were in a reverse-prayer position, high between his shoulder blades, the ropes woven tight to imprison them. Nicholas wondered if the glistening in the boy’s eye could be a tear.

Of course, Reds and Yellows perceived time differently. To the poor Reds, the afternoon seemed to drag on and on, whereas the Yellows felt like it was over before it even began.

“We’ll prepare our captives for the Commander’s inspection,” Lewis said, having raised his hand. “Let us help those wretched creatures look good.”

A discussion ensued; the Saint Sebastian boys were growing fond of their younger teammates and let them make the call. Alex, Dylan, and Nate told of the friends’ circle, which entailed binding the captives together at the shoulders; with five or more, you could have them in a circle. For the twelve Reds, a kneeling hogtie would offer the best result. Of course, they would be linked at the knees.

The large carpet in front of the fireplace would welcome this circle. One by one, the Reds were brought by ecstatic opponents, creating the human sculpture. The rug featured large white rings with crimson in between. The Cubs picked the circle that would allow to position all their guests kneeling around it.

Lewis’s babbling throughout annoyed the Reds, some more than others. Billy was the target of many private jokes, the chatty opponent unable to pass an opportunity to mock the boy who’d defeated him so many times. Billy couldn’t wait for the next time he would gag Lewis. The other Saint Sebastian lads wearing red had different reactions: Ben and Fred were Lewis’s friends; they’d developed an ability to screen out his idle chats. Sora and Jason had endured many of his rants and were less triggered by the boastful opponent than they used to.

Eventually, all the Reds kneeled on the rug, buttocks on their heels, their arms all pinned to their bodies by tight harnesses.

“They make a nice figure. Good job, team!” Lewis cheered. The Yellows stood in a wider circle, looking at their defeated opponents, grinning and smirking.

“The losers kneeling at our feet. Can we dream of anything better?” Alex said.

“Pulling their hair with tweezers to test their gags would be sweeter,” Philip added.

The Cubs had an uneasy laugh. The dark boy was always one notch higher when it came to cruelty. Finley, a brown-haired boy, was putting his glasses on after wiping them with his jersey; he realized some of his team members were missing.

“Where are Dylan and Marc?” the twelve-year-old asked.

The Yellows looked at each other. They’d taken breaks, the groups shifted through the afternoon, and they all tried to think of the last time they’d seen their missing teammates.

Finley ran outside the Lodge to see if they were on the lawn, where they’d chatted earlier on. No one in sight, but a troop flag stood out, stuck in the ground; an envelope hung from a string at the top. He ran to tear the letter from the stick, rushing back inside.

“There’s a note!”

All eyes turned to him.

“Will you read it, then?” Lewis prompted.

“Sure. ‘Dear Yellows, congratulations for winning the first part of this game. It was tough, and you didn’t lose hope even when the odds were against you. Alas, you forgot to remain disciplined and stopped being on the lookout. It was child’s play to abduct your friends. They’re now somewhere on the estate, safe from rainfall. You’ve got until noon tomorrow to find them.’”

“Anything else?” Keith asked.

“That’s it. That’s the message,” Finley replied.

“They’re being kept in a building,” Lewis said, stepping in for this crisis, “and there are buildings on the estate.”

He crossed eyes with Billy, whose gaze seemed to be saying, ‘It’s always nice stating the obvious.’ Lewis had to stand to the occasion.

“By now, we’ve explored most of the estate, even though we don’t know all the nooks and crannies.”

“We do,” Nate boasted.

“There are ten of us. We need groups, and groups that don’t split. Only leave your mates as a last resort, when you retreat. Three pairs and one group of four to keep the fort. Let’s get our fellow-Yellows back with us this evening.”

TBC

[Bondwriter]

A new chapter. Hope it pleases!

The Great Tournament 4: Dark Forces

Chapter 2: On a Mission

The Cubs deferred to Lewis’s assurance.

“Shouldn’t we have more teams looking for our captured friends?” Stéphane asked. “There are lots of us. We could even recruit some Reds. It isn’t fair they stay resting while we run around.”

“I agree with Lewis,” Philip said. “We should guard the Reds. Freeing some of them is not safe,” Philip explained and pointed at his red-wearing fellow-boarders. “We’ve played with these guys enough times to know they will turn against you. The game requires it. Three teams are enough. The estate is not that big and we have to search the buildings. Going in pairs makes it easy to flee in case ninjas attack.”

Keith approved, and Stéphane eventually agreed, realizing the Saint Sebastian crew had many stories to tell. Billy looked at his blond friend with inquisitive eyes and got a wink in return. Something was afoot, but he would have to wait to find out what.

The Yellows picked the teams next. Lewis paired with Alex, Stéphane with Nate, and Matt with Daniel. They shared the areas to explore, listing all possible locations. Philip and Keith had three Cubs to assist them: Tyler, Jake, and Finley. The older boys decided to have pairs watch the captives and look outside in case the Commander and his minions had further shenanigans in store.

Wearing backpacks with water and torchlights, the three rescue groups headed their ways. Lewis found out his partner was talkative like him. He was smart enough to whisper, but he tried to impress the older playmate with memories of past games.

“This is like a game we played last fall,” the cute boy said, walking stealthily on the trail. “The Den masters kidnapped Owen and we had to find him. We were in a large factory, and it was kind of spooky.”

Lewis enjoyed the tale. For their young age, the Cubs sure had enjoyed cool games.

“We scouted the place for three hours. You know what? They had stuffed Owen in a closet, and they had gagged him so well that we walked in front of the hideout three times before Luke said he heard something. We had a good laugh when we saw Owen pleading. He’d grown mad at us not hearing him, and he was all red and sweaty from trying.”

“We had adventures like yours. I remember inviting my friend Philip to stay at my place for the weekend. I had my cousins visit for the afternoon. They’re eight and ten, and they were going to stay a short while only, so I didn’t bother introducing them to Philip. Plus, he’d lost a bet and he was supposed to stay bound and gagged for twenty-four hours. I don’t like to interrupt punishments, so I kept Philip in the walk-in closet in my bedroom. My cousins wanted to play video games; they’d complain to my parents if I didn’t let them have their way. It took them over an hour of gaming before they heard something.”

“Were they surprised to find you had a prisoner in your room?”

“At first, a bit, but they were curious about the knots and the gag, surprised how effective they all were. They learned a few knots before they had to go home. My cousin Percy even ran an experiment; he gagged Philip and tried to make him even quieter than before. My friend has a big mouth, and little Percy managed to cram two small handtowels!”

Lewis remembered this weekend fondly. Later when the brats had gone, the evening had turned particularly frantic for the poor bound-and-gagged guest. Lewis wouldn’t tell these details to the boy, and he told him another anecdote, the time Keith had been prevented from warning Billy of his impending capture. Of course, Lewis paused every now and then to focus on their mission, pricking his ears to the muffled calls of a gagged victim.

The two other rescue teams were sharing similar anecdotes while pursuing their quest. Daniel had stories about Dylan, whom they were looking for; it turned out Daniel had been prisoner of Dylan’s bonds in many games and had vivid memories to share. Matt relished the narrative; the boy loved describing the tie-ups he was ensnared in, and he seemed very fond of explaining the ins and outs of silencing a prisoner.

“After all the times he tied and gagged you, you still want to help Dylan?”

“Of course, he’s my mate!”

The guard’s house was empty. They called out and listened, not wanting to walk past their prisoner. Next on their checklist was a small cave. It was dark inside, but the torchlight made an inspection possible. They entered slowly, on the lookout.

The soft, faint hum wasn’t the wind howling: it came from Dylan, who was trussed up in ropes and whose lower face disappeared under many layers that were probably trapping some wadding inside his mouth. They had to untie him quickly, in case ninjas would come. Better safe than sorry.

Stéphane and Nate got along fine, though sometimes, the French boy had trouble understanding his partner’s whispered words; Nate was super cautious with his feet and walked silently. He still loved telling stories, even in whispers; Stéphane heard how Luke once made up a sleepover invitation to sneak Nate into his bedroom unseen from his parents. Luke restrained and gagged Nate and challenged him to escape or manage to warn anyone in the house.

Nate was wary of being found in a hogtie with a hundred feet of ropes holding him tight and having to explain what had happened. After a night of captivity, he was ready to be freed and did try to get someone to hear his plea; Luke’s skilled gagging had ensured he stayed that way for the remainder of the weekend.

Nate recalled the event fondly, which impressed Stéphane. Their tour went fine. The stable was empty, but they found Marc inside the barn. He wasn’t concealed at all—he was tightly bound to one of the twelve poles supporting the building.

“You’re quite helpless,” Stéphane joked, “and the people who tied you up did a thorough job.”

His friend’s body was on full display, the ropes pulling the shiny jersey and shorts that enhanced his shapes.

“Mmmgrmm! Mmmph!”

Marc sounded desperate, so Nate removed his gag, although Stéphane wouldn’t have minded taunting him further.

“Phew. Thanks lads. The ninjas have been gone for hours, and I was worried no one would come rescue me.”

“We have your back, teammate,” Nate reassured, tackling the untying.

While they freed him from the ropes—which they coiled carefully to take along—Marc told of the ninjas’ abduction. When he was taking a leak in a bush, he was grabbed and chloroformed. He’d woken up bound, gagged, and hooded. The ninjas marched him to the barn, where they took their sweet time binding him to the central beam, removing his hood, and gagging him with one the inflatable plug gags, which they pumped up until the bladder was solid as a rock.

“We couldn’t hear you from outside,” Stéphane said. “These toys sure help to keep someone silent.”

The trio jogged back to the Hunting Lodge. They found Matt and Daniel on the way.

“We’ve heard the others blow the whistle! Lewis must have found Dylan.”

Steps came towards them; three torchlights turned to the noise, casting a yellow circle on the three boys moving towards them. Lewis and Alex were frogmarching Dylan, whose arms were still immobilized behind his back.

“Hey,” Lewis greeted in a low voice.

“Hmmph!” Dylan called. Why hadn’t they freed him? Alex read the surprise on his fellow-Yellows’ faces.

“Dylan here is being ungrateful. We removed his gag when we found him and were about to untie him, but he kept complaining. He could thank us, but no.”

“Ungrateful twerps can wait a bit before they’re released,” Lewis added. “It’s safer to prevent any sound, and young Dylan here was much too willing to give us a piece of his mind, complaining about the ninjas being rope fiends and all …. The socks went back in, and we’ll give him another chance once inside the lodge. Let’s go.”

Although they were less than five minutes away, they hurried; now they would have to set up a watch and wait for the Commander to come congratulate them on their victory. They glided on the trail, their sneakers’ soft soles making the faintest squeak, the commando moving in stealth mode. They still joked in whispers and soon they proudly entered the Hunting Lodge, having saved the day and ready to welcome their teammates’ praise.

Alas, there were no Reds in sight, only five Yellows rolling on the floor, trying to get rid of their bonds. Keith and Philip seemed the most advanced, the short blond boy undoing a knot keeping his dark-haired friend’s wrists together.

“Darn, Keith,” Lewis said kneeling at the golden-haired lad’s sides. “I didn’t think leaving you for one hour would have you practice your escape artistry.”

The rescue team started to release all the other boys. They were held in cuffs and locks, which made the immobilization faster and more effective.

“They were like ghosts!” Jake said when his mouth was freed from the leather plate and the silicone shape. “I didn’t see them coming.”

Finley told the same tale: he didn’t know what happened; they’d been chloroformed right away.

Lewis freed Dylan: they would need all hands on deck.

“I think they were ninjas,” Philip said. “I saw black shapes, and I think I recognized voices I’ve heard in the barn the other day. But then I was knocked out too, and I woke up all bundled in ropes, a sock stuck in my gob.”

“Why did they free the Reds?” Daniel wondered.

“We’ve been so excellent that the Commander and his henchmen have decided to give the losers another chance, testing our skills at making prisoners, keeping them, which hasn’t been stellar so far, and retaking them, which we should tackle quickly,” Lewis opined.

“With much less gear,” Philip regretted. “They took our loot.”

“We still have some,” Alex remarked. Though being equipped hadn’t proved useful in their quest, they’d salvaged some gear at least.

They heard rattling at the door. Alex rushed to open it. He saw a dark shadow dash away, already too far to chase. The man had left a package at the bottom of the stairs. The Cub picked it up and took it to his friends waiting in the entrance hall. An envelope was taped at the top.

Lewis opened it and unfolded the paper sheet.

TBC

[Xtc]

It's good to see this magnum opus being continued.

[snowylocks]

Was just planning to join the patreon to get more of these, and here you go posting them for free ! Thanks !

As always, inventiveness bordering on genius makes for an entertaining read. Also appreciate how even though the cast has grown beyond even my ability to keep track, you still retain those little flashes of characterisation for the original cast, like Phil being a bit of a sadist and Keith and Billy being boyfriends. Maybe in order for the cubs to become just as familiar, they'd need a solo series.

[Bondwriter]

[mention]Xtc[/mention] Glad you enjoy this tale that has gone on for over fifteen years!
[mention]snowylocks[/mention] Glad to see you around! The page's purpose isn't to make exclusive posts, but to spread the editing costs, which make the stories more readable. The Simon story written this week will come to this board too!

[Bondwriter]

Chapter 3 Exploring at Dusk


“Dear Yellows, we’ve decided to give the game a boost. You’ve done well so far, but our camp doesn’t want the trainees to grow complacent. We’ve freed the Reds, but some of my men have captured them back, and they are easy to find, usually in the open. You have until 10:00 tomorrow morning to capture as many of the Reds as you can. Look out, they’re eager to imprison you too. Signed: the Commander.”

Lewis looked up at the group, beaming.

“I told you! This clever man realizes that we love challenges and that it will be even sweeter to have the Reds under our control if we’ve really fought to catch them.”

He opened the cardboard box: the game was rigged indeed, as they got a new supply of ropes, tape, and even chloroform. He cheered, imagining how the Reds were going to benefit from the gift.

Lewis inspired the group; his friends enjoyed seeing him play his part. The Cubs were in awe, and they got in high spirits, wanting to scout the estate right away. Victory could be theirs again, and they gathered behind their new leader. Philip found it cute; he also liked these lads’ support. Some of them belonged to the hardcore TUG players tribe, as he did. It made him eager to go back outside and get chasing.

The Yellows started to pack for their new adventure.



Dylan being freed, he joined Philip and Tyler’s team. The boys took off from the Hunting Lodge, the black-haired Saint Sebastian lad leading his crew to the left. Philip spotted the crimson jerseys from a distance despite the evening’s dimmer light.

The team laughed as they came close to their targets. Two captives faced a tree: Nicholas and Luke. The former stood forearms together and bound to the tree with turns of rope uniting the rest of his torso; the latter kneeled, his knees bound to his partner’s ankles, his face stuck an inch from the other boy’s arse.

“You’ve gotten in trouble with the ninjas,” Tyler said, stating the obvious. Dylan was moved by his friend’s predicament.

“Poor Luke, you’ve got to watch another boy’s butt. Does your friend have gas?” he asked Philip.

“The Reds are vile,” the older boy replied. “No doubt this specific one stinks as much as the others.”

Luke and Nicholas groaned and tried harder to escape the ropes, but the ninjas had worked effectively. No flaw allowed a hopeful prospect. They had to endure the taunts about their hygiene, or lack thereof.

“That’s a nice pair we caught. Let’s pack them up and lock them in the Hunting Lodge. We’ll bring them new friends soon.”

The trio tackled the move, using the cuffs and locks that they’d packed to immobilize their preys’ limbs while they removed the ropes. Hobbled and chained, the two boys were marched the short distance to the Lodge.

Philip intended to make the captives safe. They entered the main room to discover another team had already brought a trophy in: Matt, Daniel, and Jake held Jason, whom they were binding to a chair. The Yellows gloated as Luke and Nicholas followed the same fate under the hyper kids’ control, hell-bent on achieving the perfect bondage.

The Reds witnessed the whirlwind helplessly. The young maniacs took turns to rope their limbs and link them tightly to the chairs, knotting the rope far from any prying fingers. Even these eventually got ensnared in a devious net made with their shoelaces.

Philip went over Jason’s bonds with Matt, who inspected the two other Reds, adjusting the tie-ups to thwart their escape attempts.

“That’s a start. We’ve got more of our foes to find, let’s go!”

Both teams rushed back outside, Matt taking his towards the Club House and Philip’s heading to the farm. The sun was about to set, and seeing under the foliage became more difficult. The bright jerseys were a good idea now; they’d be easier to spot with torchlights.

Philip, his henchmen on his heels, walked at a brisk pace; he loved the game and his role in it. Playing at night would make it easier to reach his objectives.



Keith joined Stéphane and Nate. They had been tasked with checking the guard’s house. This time, it featured someone. Owen was bound standing, his chest harness tied to a ring in the wall. He wore his own inflatable gag, which fit perfectly and had been inflated adequately. He was happy to see someone, even opponents, who would take him away from the forlorn building.

He called from behind the rubber bladder, but his finders didn’t pay attention. They released the rope pinning him to the wall and lengthened his legs’ bonds so he could walk.

“Too bad for you, Owen. We don’t let our captives escape too far away,” Keith said. Owen had been caught by ninjas and he’d seen what Keith had done during the attack; he protested the blond boy’s boastfulness and tried to warn his friends of Keith’s treachery.

“Mmmhmmh!”

“I’m afraid our instructions didn’t mention letting our competitors annoy us with whining and complaints, so the gag stays on.”

“He could warn his fellow-Reds who haven’t been caught,” Nate remarked.

“Indeed,” Keith smiled, “and we can’t have that, can we?”

Owen still tried to get someone to hear him talk, but he found no support. The silent troop framed him and marched him outside.

“You’re going to be with your friends again, and zere is light in the Hunting Lodge,” Stéphane comforted him.



Matt and his crew reached the Club House in record time, stopping to recover their breath before entering. They remained quiet but not enough that someone didn’t hear them and called through what had to be a thick gag.

The locker room was empty. They went to the lockers and followed the noise. Matt opened a metal door, which, thankfully, wasn’t locked. He beamed—how could he not with the display Sora offered? The many turns of duct tape mummifying his body almost hid his jersey’s colour. It also hid his lower face, and his surprise and pleading could only come through his eyes. He tried; Matt was his friend, after all.

“One of these Reds is hoping I’m merciful,” the lanky boy said. “I’m afraid we’re here to win, not to be nice to the other side!”

They grabbed Sora from the locker.

“I’ll undo the tape around his legs,” Daniel offered.

“Don’t bother,” Matt replied, “Sora is an expert at hopping. A true bunny!”

“Mmmrgrmmph!”

His moan didn’t save the mummified teen from being sentenced to head back to the Lodge the hard way. Just getting out of the Club House was taxing. Matt was glad to see his friend fret a little, but he didn’t want to dawdle. He sat Sora in a wheelbarrow he’d spotted. Pushing it, he and his henchmen went back to their headquarters.



Three hundred yards away, Lewis and his partner Alex headed to the cave and were about to add to the livestock. They were still two hundred yards away when they spotted a display clearly the result of the ninjas’ work: a Red tied to a tree. They headed his way; getting closer, they realized there were two Reds tied face-to-face.

“So Fred,” Lewis greeted the boy bound to the trunk, “our hosts didn’t seem to think they could leave you on your own. I’m sure a blond French boy makes you feel less afraid as night falls!”

Léo was bound facing, his arms bound on each side so he embraced the lean and muscular boy.

“It’s a joy seeing you Reds bond together so well, but we’ve got a victory to claim and we’re going to take you with us. Don’t do anything stupid, . I’ll have to call back my friends; they’re really eager to spank a naughty loser.”

The wadding and tape didn’t stop Fred from cursing his buddy Lewis, who smirked.



Keith got out from the guard’s house followed by indignant moans. His devious plan was working fine. Thanks to the chloroform, he would manage to immobilize three boys in under fifteen minutes.

Outside, he stopped Nate and Stéphane, who were framing Owen. He pointed at Nate and showed him the curve in the path ahead.

“Scout the place stealthily. I think I heard something.”

Nate was too eager to act to doubt the order. Keith then could strike and pounce on Stéphane, chloroformed was in hand. Cuffs at his wrists, a coil around his ankles and a balled-up hankie in his mouth held in by a scarf, Keith could stalk his next victim. The Cub didn’t suspect anything; Owen watched the scene, flabbergasted, realizing something was wrong and that treason was afoot.

Keith reinforced the lads’ bonds and completed their gags before he dragged them back inside the guard’s house, inside the chimney where they were even less visible; their grunts reverberated more, though. Once he’d taken ten steps, he could no longer hear the hum coming from the gagged captives. It was time to join Philip and see if he’d managed to do his share of the job.



Philip took thirty seconds to admire his handiwork: Tyler and Dylan were masterfully trussed up lying on a straw mattress in the stable. One in a hogtie, one in a frog-tie, and he’d reinforced their gags, stuffing their mouths with balls made from handkerchiefs trapped using scarves.

“Mmmrgrph!”

“Whine all you want, brats. You said it yourselves, there are turns and twists in our games. Splitting you apart to kidnap you was so easy. I loved the look on your face when you found Tyler trussed up, Dylan.”

Philip cast a mocking laugh and disappeared, leaving his two victims to assess their bonds. He’d worked fast and in the dark; Tyler and Dylan squirmed to get closer and try to escape.

Their captor walked cautiously up the path until the fork and inside the woods to an oak tree where he was supposed to meet Keith. He didn’t have to wait long. His partner-in-crime was soon at his sides, moving so stealthily he detected Keith’s presence only when he whispered in his ear.

TBC

[Bondwriter]

I hope some of you enjoy this story. Here comes the penultimate chapter.

Chapter 4: News Get Broken


Lewis had found a kindred spirit in Alex. The Cub enjoyed taunting the captives, and he had an extensive vocabulary to do so. He was a keen player also; he’d put forward his idea as they headed back to the Hunting Lodge.

“Don’t you think we should keep our prisoners close to the Lodge but not inside? We could conceal them in the shrubbery, and it’s almost dark. Not keeping all of them inside the Lodge means that if the Reds attack, they won’t save all their friends.”

“Very good point, Alex. You think strategically, and with a few more years of practice, you could be almost as good as me. Now, how do you think we should proceed?”

The boy was pleased by his older teammate’s consideration.

“Binding them standing against trees is out of the question. Even without a torchlight, they could be spotted easily. They need to be on the floor, hidden by foliage.”

Fred and Léo groaned, thinking that making noise could attract someone who—maybe—would release them. It spurred their captors to make a better job. They got away from the path to find a place that was out of sight. They had their prisoners sit and ball-tied them, their arms around their knees with their wrists bound around their ankles. The binders used their torchlight at intervals, and only when necessary, but ensuring solid knots.

The two accomplices checked each other’s ropework and both improved on their partner’s. They completed their restraining by adding a scarf over their prisoners’ gags, which covered their nose too and dampened the relentless attempts at warning of their presence.

“Sorry, losers,” Lewis taunted. “We’re going to let you cool down. It shouldn’t be too cold tonight, but squirm all you want to keep warm.”

Alex sniggered and led the way to find new victims to abduct.



Keith and Philip reported on their feats and checked their inventory; they still had plenty of equipment to handle their perilous mission. They heard foliage rustling and saw a bright spot ten feet from them: Marc, the tall brown-haired French lad, whose jersey made him visible at night.

“Marc,” Keith whispered. “Have you spotted any Reds?”

The newcomer had lost his team and was relieved to find Yellows. He approached but became aware something was amiss once it was too late. He didn’t pay attention to Philip stealthily moving around him, and he remained ignorant of the chloroform on a pad until it was plastered on his nostrils, a strong arm encircling his chest.

Keith seized Marc’s wrists and stepped on his feet to immobilize him. The chemical was impossible to fight against, and catching a whiff before he started struggling sealed his fate. Seeing stars and a rainbow, he fainted.

When he got back to his senses, tactile aids informed him what had taken place: his elbows and wrists were together, his legs were folded in two, and his heels pressed on his butt. Before he could utter a word, a hand covered his mouth, clamped tight to seal his lips.

“The little blighter is waking up, Keith. Time for his gag.”

This detail couldn’t be overlooked: stealth surprise and treachery were incompatible with shouts of indignation and calls for help. Keith had a serious ball of fabric, a sock inside a handkerchief, to fill the big gob. Yanking his hair hard got Marc to open wide, allowing his captor to muffle his shouting as it started.

The sealing with electrical tape, which Philip saw fit to complete with two vertical turns to make a chinstrap, concluded any bargaining he could have attempted.

“You’ll understand later, friend,” Philip reassured him, “but for now it is important you remain still, unheard, and unseen. You’ve been a good sport. We’ll take it into consideration to dole out awards and punishments.”

“Just be patient and wait for us,” Keith added. The two kidnappers pussyfooted away, crossing off one more boy from the long checklist of those to seize.



Liam witnessed the whole scene. He loved squatting, crawling, and spying on opponents. Adequate scouting and observation had always paid in their games. In this larger one, it was even more fun. A large crowd playing made for more targets; the size of the estate provided space and featured enough nooks and crannies to hide. At night, it was even easier.

Liam, Billy, and Ben had been released together by the ninjas and formed a team. The goons left a duffel bag full of gear before they rid them of their bonds.

Billy had led his teammates inside the woods to gather their wits in designing a strategy. First, he had them remove their jerseys. They rubbed their torsos with dirt to darken them; even at night, the clever leader suspected their skin would be easy to spot.

These Reds hadn’t moved much in the three hours since their release, staying put and observing what was going on. Being close to the fork offered a central viewpoint; the gentle hills and the thick underbrush made for great hiding spots. They spread around to cover more ground, the hooting of owls being their rallying cry. Billy suspected they were the only Reds freed, the rest of their friends still hostages somewhere.

They saw Yellows on the paths and pounced. They started ensnaring their victims in ropes, their ears pricked up to avoid a surprise attack.

The felonious Yellows came to themselves, but neither of them felt an urge to shout. The Reds triggered a proactive gagging nonetheless.

“No need to explain,” Billy said, sliding a foam rubber ball inside Keith’s gob. “I think I know what’s going on. Needless to say, you’re in deep trouble.”

His teammates were impressed by Billy’s style. They proceeded to silence Philip as tightly using a bag with grain and tons of plastic tape to seal it in.

“We need to move quickly. Ninjas could be after us,” Billy warned his mates. They got Keith and Philip on their feet and headed to where Liam had seen them binding another Yellow.

Marc was glad to see torchlights approaching but wondered whether they were from friends or foes. Three Reds framed his most recent abductors, and a sharp blow delivered to Philip’s bum caused him to grunt.

“We’ll take him along. Maybe we could trade him later on,” Billy decided.

Marc’s legs got released, and he joined the other Yellows. Ropes around their necks kept them ten inches apart from each other.

“They bound him tight,” Liam remarked. “He’ll be glad to know the traitors were arrested.”

“Mrrgrm?!” Marc asked.

“Billy will explain later, but we’re moving.”

They headed to the path with Liam in front, always in sight. He waved to keep still and the group froze. Two Yellows walked on the path. Ben went to Liam’s side, chloroform wads in hand. They tiptoed to the path, their targets a few yards away with their backs turned. The unsuspecting Yellows went down easily. A hoot from Ben summoned the rest of the group to tie up Dylan and Tyler at wrists and elbows.

“Don’t gag them right away; I have a few questions.”

The boys soon recovered from the chloroform to find themselves at the hands of the enemy. The group retreated to the woods, the Yellow Cubs handgagged.

“Before I let you speak, I’ll tell you what I think happened.”

The boys stood in a circle, their torchlights pointing to the ground barely illuminating their faces. Billy’s attracted all eyes.

“Philip has gone rogue. It’s likely you were the first to fall victim to his deception. He had one of you go check on something, and when you came back, the other had been put to sleep?”

The Cubs nodded, the hands on their mouths moving along.

“Why did they betray their team?” Liam asked.

“It’s a secret move by the Commander. Am I wrong, Keith?” Billy shot at his bound friend.

Keith could lie to other teammates, but he couldn’t lie to Billy. He nodded.

“The game is either too fast or too slow, and the people behind this camp decided to spice it up. I’ll take it you got a visit this afternoon? I saw you take a few breaks together. No doubt some ninjas pulled you away, with the Commander waiting to talk to you?”

They approved.

“He made an offer you couldn’t refuse: playing the secret menace or the equalizers or whatever name he called the role he had for you: capture anyone and everyone. I’m sure he buttered you up, praising your TUG skills. Only you could make the game a unique experience by betraying your teammates and friends!”

Billy’s keen sense of observation hadn’t been dulled by his captivity. Both culprits nodded, keeping their eyes down as their friend scolded them.

“And instead of working something out with the other Yellows, or us, your friends, and tell us the game was rigged, you went along!”

The traitors sincerely tried to apologize, to no avail, their garbled talk being laughed at.

“You won’t get away with this. You know me,” Billy said. “Betraying your team is wrong. Philip, you made it even worse for yourself by having Dylan and Tyler escape from your bonds. Did you bind and gag the little guys that were with you, Keith?”

Playing the double agent had been fun, but Keith didn’t like the reprobating tone. He endured and nodded; Billy proposed locations until the captured traitor confirmed they were in the guard’s house.

Billy looked sternly at his crew, the peculiar light casting shadows that made his features graver.

“We need to defeat the Yellows and we need to thwart the Commander’s half-baked plans. Why does he meddle with a game that was going fine?”

“Well, we did get released,” Ben remarked. His friend had higher moral standards.

“We’re going to turn this situation around once and for all. There are other Reds roaming the woods, and we can surprise the Yellows with our camouflage. We’ll have to split; Stéphane and Nate need to be picked up. I’ve got an idea on how to keep our Yellow prisoners from being rescued by their mates.”

Even the captives listened to Billy’s plan in complete silence. The boy was bent on revenge and victory and he conveyed his mood to his teammates, who felt the night would be theirs.

TBC

[frankburns]

[mention]Bondwriter[/mention]

I most certainly am enjoying it.. Your tails are 'right up my street'. I have followed the tail of the school from the beginning. And your other stories. Most of which I have copy/pasted to my removable disk. (yes I know I don't normally comment- SHAME ON ME!) I have no idea how you manage to keep track of the kids. You must keep copious notes as to who is in what team etc.

[Bondwriter]

[mention]frankburns[/mention] Thanks for the positive feedback. I have notes on the characters, but they aren't this detailed. The characters build up as the stories go. The original Saint Sebastian lads are the first I used in a long fiction, hence I have a good grasp on them. Last chapter for this episode coming on Sunday!

[Bondwriter]

Chapter 5. Aftermath


The rising sun’s rays darted on the estate. The night had been long, but at dawn, Billy’s cleverness had prevailed. They had a few Yellows disabled and made helpless, and their relentless night hunt gained them further control.

The first strike, storming the Hunting Lodge, tipped the balance in their favour; they freed Nicholas, Luke, and Jason. Matt’s team came to store Ethan and Cameron, but they picked the wrong time and got nabbed easily by the incensed Reds.

Some highlights included catching Lewis, whose flabbergasted face had his foes rejoice; Billy was glad to put a literal sock in the talkative boy’s gob, which Luke and Nicholas sealed beyond his lips with tape.

They eventually found Fred and Léo, who’d been left bound and gagged in the woods, though the rescue team passed their location twice before their calls for help were successful.

The Yellow captives, growing more and more numerous inside the Hunting Lodge, showed signs of impatience and made attempts at untying each other’s bonds.

“We want none of this,” Ben told Stéphane. “I’ll save you from fidgeting.”

The smiling teen waved a coil of rope, which he hogtied his French opponent with. When the last Yellow team was back, both were now gathered in a single room. Two Yellows featured more prominently: Keith and Philip kneeled on the end of both long tables, their fellow-Yellows bound to chairs around them.

Billy moved towards the two Saint Sebastian students, who cast worried side glances. He stood between them, placing a hand on their shoulders before he spoke.

“We’ve won, and despite much treachery. We could have called for a truce last night, but we know you Yellows are vindictive brats, so we had to grab you before you could listen to our offer. If you turn it down, we’ll wait until ten, four hours from now. But we’d rather have you participate in our workshop.”

The competitors watched Billy, wide-eyed.

“See these two wretched scoundrels?” he said, pointing at Keith and Lewis with his thumbs. “You thought they were your teammates, that they would fight with you, but what happened? They betrayed you, and if we hadn’t stopped them quickly, they’d have tricked more of you.”

The Yellows traded looks, waiting for the offer.

“We caught them, though. Now it’s time for the traitors to endure retaliation from all the other players. If you agree to a truce, you can join our enforcement squad. You’ll be able to provide ideas and act them out if they’re picked by the group. Until ten o’clock, there will be two groups only: the traitors and the punishers.”

Billy’s henchmen removed the Yellows’ gags one at a time, having them call for a truce and accept the Reds’ offer. Of course, Lewis tried to ask questions and set conditions, but Billy was prepared.

“You may choose to wait as you are. You may even join the turncoat faction and get the same treatment as our two friends here.”

Lewis knew when he was beaten and acquiesced, wanting the focus of attention to turn to someone else. He solemnly swore he would abide.

“Now, let’s have breakfast and discuss how to best punish our double-crossers …”

The meal was welcome, and tongues got untied too. Friends told of the previous night’s adventures, but with Keith and Philip at the same table, though kneeling on it rather than sitting at it, the conversations turned to how to retaliate against the two renegades.

A lot of brain power fuelled the elaborate scenarios; the convicted felons listened to tales in which they were whipped, tickled, submitted to unbearable noises or smells, left on their own outside, helpless, with honey to attract insects. Billy didn’t intervene, knowing the group would come up with a suitable solution. He savoured his breakfast, winking at Keith, who didn’t find it amusing.

“We don’t have much time,” Alex summed up, “so let’s go for strict tie-ups. We can vary the tortures afterwards.”

“We’ll spank them,” Luke cheered.

“They’ll pee their pants when we’re done tickling them,” Liam joked.

The Yellows who’d fallen prey to the double agents got the privilege to do the tie-up. Stéphane and Nate took care of Keith; Dylan and Tyler managed Philip. It was no easy task, not because their charges made any unwanted moves, but because they got lots of advice and pressure from the audience.

The prisoners got pulled down from their tables and had to stand facing chairs’ backs. Their arms were bound in reverse prayer position, which started a discussion on the captives’ flexibility. The hall was unusually noisy with the executioners’ comments on how they should leave the bums uncovered for maximum spanking effect or how they should fold a leg in two to display a bare sole and submit it to intense tickling.

The chest harness and the belt, which doubled as a crotch rope, were bound to the chair slats at the back. The tightened ropes kept the boys standing on their toes with their heels slightly up.

The ropework around their legs got extra attention. The turns from the top of the thighs to the ankles, five in total, were tightly cinched but also bound to slats or rungs, pinning the boys against the furniture and making their yellow-shorted bums stick out.

“Now, you’ve all given advice. Why don’t you have a look yourself?” Billy suggested, “You may of course add a rope or tape if it makes it easier to punish our culprits.”

The procession started, everyone eager to check the tie-up, not feeling skimpy on using more ropes to achieve immobility. Billy caught Lewis’s hand gesture telling him he wanted a word. They stepped aside.

“Billy my man, I’ve got to ask, what’s with the tyrant posture? I mean, Keith is your friend. I’m sure Philip is enjoying himself, but the cowboy? He must feel lousy.”

“To tell you the truth, I didn’t think we would reach this point. The whole game is designed for encounters and big moments, but there’s no real competition. No rankings or scores. I wanted to see how much they’d let us send a wrench in their plans. I’d expected the ninjas to put an end to this stage, but they’ve let us proceed. It was fun, though, and I really liked it when we caught you after we neutralized your sidekick Alex.”

“We’d been robbed of our victory!”

“It’s settled now. I was kind enough to let you participate in the punishment.”

“Fair enough. But you don’t mind Blondie being put in the hands of little maniacs?”

“He was the one who betrayed you, but go save him from his punishment, be my guest.”

Lewis paused.

“I’ll pass. I’m sure Philip will be grateful I smack his arse!”

Nicholas led a team that improved on the captives’ gags. Sweaty socks had been collected, as well as rolls of gauze, tape and scarves. The gear allowed for head mummification, leaving only the eyes and nose uncovered, though footwear—the smelliest they found—stuck to the prisoners’ nostrils.

“We can start a first round of torture,” he said, smacking Philip’s buttocks. A line formed and the boys all delivered their five-finger present, some gasping when they hit the butts particularly hard and their hands stung. The gagged protests increased in frequency and volume. Lewis hoped Philip wouldn’t get the reaction he usually had in their intimacy, which wouldn’t be too proper for the young teammates. He delivered his share heartily and didn’t go easy on Keith’s bottom.

Once they’d all amply assisted to making the bottoms warmer, the tickle torture took place. Luke suggested they’d be bound otherwise for better access.

They quickly picked the tables to spread-eagle the sanctioned quislings, who lay on their backs with ropes pulling them apart at wrists and ankles, but also at knees and elbows. The untold challenge to have them pee their shorts was on most tormentors’ minds.

The boys experimented with the tip of a scarf, their fingers, feathers, and torn plastic bags to see how much each item made their preys squirm. Keith and Philip howled through their gags in tears and possibly having a hard time to breathe. Lewis called for a break, but the relief was short-lived; the betrayed leader soon brought his thumb down to get the ordeal to continue.

They didn’t pee their pants, having had very little to drink for a while, but they sweated heavily and felt dizzy. Lewis noticed Philip’s shorts were flat; tickling was indeed a punishment.

When it was nine, Billy advised to have a last go before they took the captives to the Manor and see what the Commander wanted done with them. The exhausted captives didn’t resist once released, though hands kept them still and their wrists got cuffed behind their backs. Tykes kneeled at their feet to hobble them for the walk.

“We’ll take the traitors back to their leader!” Billy said.

The boys cheered, even those in the Red team, who were among the loudest. Keith and Philip were actually mortified. Billy stepped in front of them.

“He’ll know we can’t stand turncoats!”

He leaned forward with a crowd of boys roaring in approval behind him.

“Hang on, boys,” he reassured Keith and Philip almost whispering, “I needed to play this card to talk to the Commander. Keep acting like you’re really mad, especially with the ninjas.”

The boys looked back quizzically; the fact that Billy had a plan calm them down a little. There was no shortage of volunteers to hobble them for their march to the manor, and they were all needed. Playing their part accordingly, the hostages weren’t cooperative, and many hands had to hold their limbs while arranging the ropes.

They squirmed and tried to escape their keepers’ grip through the twenty minutes needed to get to their destination. A welcoming committee was waiting for them. It was five to ten, but the group was expected. The Commander stood on the front stoop, a small stone stage that had room for the leader and six of his henchmen.

The Cubs marched the captives in front. The older boys followed, the red and yellow jerseys alternating in both groups. Billy recommended to spread evenly to make it known from a distance they’d made a truce. As they walked the last few metres in front of the small stage, Billy stepped ahead to stand out as the group’s spokesman.

The Commander smiled. He took one step forward and his men took one back.

“The rabble-rouser in chief! Billy, the Saint Sebastian dorm’s virtuous leader. What have you got to say?”

“You tried to mess with the game!”

“Well, you certainly gave the game a different outcome. You can’t deny it was fun,” the Commander argued. “The game is what the players make of it, no matter the incentives. You seem to be making it hard for your friends.”

Billy didn’t stay disconcerted for long.

“We haven’t interrogated these yellow-livered scoundrels, but no doubt they got promised some benefit. They betrayed their team, and now they pay the price. No team can be declared winner: the Yellows won the first part, and without your intervention the Reds couldn’t have turned the situation around.”

“Did you have a good time? Wasn’t this night a great moment?”

Billy had to admit he’d enjoyed himself.

“You’d have never gotten a chance without help,” Lewis added.

“Gagging you sure was a highlight, blabbermouth,” Billy smiled.

The crowd cheered.

“So, no hard feelings,” the Commander concluded. “Let’s take a break after these adventures. We’ve prepared a feast inside. Why don’t you forgive your friends and allow them to partake?”

Although the captives got freed, dark looks persisted for another half-hour. Eventually, setting the table and fixing food in the huge dining room got all the campers together. The Commander sat at the table, listening to the conversations around him. The room became very different from the quiet environment that past outfits and accessories created.

There was no hurry to get back to the game. The boys mingled and talked while having a bite. Recollections of the previous night’s perils were the favourite topic. The meal saw more changes in groups, which allowed some of the lads to tell the same story twice. The Commander was amused by the bubbly crowd.

Once they’d eaten dessert, the Commander stood up.

“I heard what you had to say. We’ll get you new outfits for rebooting the game. And you may tell us what you expect. Follow me.”

Ninjas appeared from behind the drapes to lead the group to a room at the end of the hall. They entered a renovated room, with smooth white walls and ceilings and plush carpeting. Clothing racks lined along the right-hand wall.

“The teams you formed had a good mix of players, so we want to develop these interactions. Hence we’ve provided each and every one of you with a custom-made Boy-Scout uniform. With red and yellow shirts, as you see. You may put them on.”

Each hanger had a label with a boy’s name. The jerseys and shorts flew, and much smarter boys stood in front of the Commander ten minutes later.

“You look perfect,” he said after reviewing the troops. “I’ll get some help and we can move on to exploring what the game should be about.”

The boys broke in a circle, admiring the uniforms. The shorts and shirts were cut in shiny but solid silk; the Yellows had dark green shorts, whereas the Reds had charcoal grey ones. A whistling arose.

“Let’s get it going!” the Commander’s voice boomed, cast from several speakers.

A dense mist came down from the ceiling.

“Once you wake up, you need to escape and rescue as many of your friends as possible. I hope you do well.”

The smell in the air gave away its nature: chloroform! Billy barely heard the last words; he’d dropped to his knees as he understood what was going on. The Commander’s wishes were the last he heard before he fell into a dark pit, unconscious and vulnerable.

End of the episode

[Bondwriter]

Hey! Happy New Year from Saint Sebastian. Here is the Christmas special, chapter 1 of 3.

Quite a Boarding School: Festive Season

Chapter 1. The Show Must Go On

The snow blanket covering the Thomas More school grounds deafens the three boys’ steps. On Christmas Eve morning, Philip, Lewis, and their friend Luke slide through a hole in the wall behind the Anne Boleyn House. The branch running above the wall also helps to get in and out easily; thankfully, this entrance is far from the road, hidden by trees and foliage; only a few students know about it.

“The path is clear,” Lewis whispers in his leader tone.

Luke looks up to him. They met six months before during their summer camp in France, and Lewis had Luke over for a weekend stay in October. Luke lives an hour away from Lewis’s. The thirteen-year-old with a Kenyan background shares his views on how to handle captives and his will to win when playing TUGs.

He arrived on Saturday morning, wearing a clean, shiny tracksuit that matched his host’s clothing. Lewis’s parents were on their way out, and they talked with Luke’s mom, which annoyed the boys, but they waited patiently; they had to be seen as trustworthy teens who may be left on their own.

“Lewis’s friend Philip is doing his homework upstairs. He’s quiet and tidy, too.”

The boys’ parents left—eventually—after having praised their sons for their good behaviour. Lewis took his guest to his room, where Philip was supposed to doing schoolwork. The predicament he was in would have made studying difficult: his arms were useless for writing, bound behind a chair’s back, and the blindfold covering his eyes prevented any reading.

The gag filling his mouth would have made an oral presentation a string of mumbles.

“Philip lost a wager last night, so he’s the one to be used as a welcome gift. He’s yours for a nice tie-up. You remember Phil. He’s sneaky, so make sure you do everything by the book.”

A huge smile lit up the young Boy Scout’s face.

“Hmm. I’ve got stuff, but maybe you’ve got restraints I can use? I’d like to do half-hour challenges,” Luke said and turned to Phil. “If you can’t get free within that time, you’ll stay our prisoner longer. And since I’ve worked hard on my knots, you’ll be my prisoner forever!”

Indeed, Philip remained in the younger boy’s claws through the morning, getting an inescapable pole-tie in the attic after his stringent chair-tie—facing backwards. The hogtie that followed had flaws; to Luke’s dismay, Philip wriggled out of his bonds in less than thirteen minutes.

The young guest talked Lewis and Philip into holding a three-man competition of a racing game on the console he’d spotted downstairs. They agreed after some discussion that the top two winners would pair to handle the loser.

Luke regretted his offer: the fiends were skilled with a joystick, and he was last in all five races.

He spent the afternoon struggling in the rope-only tie-ups the two friends concocted. They eventually let him go and had dinner. More challenges and games ensued that evening, the three boys taking turns being the tie-up models.

Luke was very happy when his mom picked him up the next day. They’d spent a good part of the morning planning for another time together.

Lewis and Philip would stay at their boarding school until Christmas Day and Luke could come as a guest. Foreign students and pupils with parents abroad would stay there, too. The school was a perfect place—when emptied of teachers and prefects—to abduct dormmates and keep them away from eyes or ears. They set up a plan while doing escape challenges, each in turn. Once gagged, the victim remained part of the conversation through binary requests and moans of approval or rejection.

Six weeks later, the three mates are wearing thick jackets, long johns, and Speedos under their trousers, plus gloves and hats. They all carry rucksacks full of gear for their expedition. Lewis masterminded the scheme; they’ll set up detention spaces through the estate in the morning. Lewis and Philip are expected at Saint Sebastian’s to join Sora, Matt, and Nicholas. Luke will hide in ambush to abduct all three one by one without attracting attention. The thrill of the hunt and the prospect of having captives to entertain soon have them forget the cold’s bite.

Lewis and Philip show their young friend around. They enter Anne Boleyn’s Hall with the pass they snatched from Travis, their prefect. They show all the places where their games took place, and they set up two classrooms on the ground and first floor to detain captives. They attach ropes to chairs so that neutralizing their victims and putting them in a severe chair-tie won’t take time.

They then go to the cricket field’s Club House. They leave coils of rope and rolls of tape concealed inside a locker in the entrance hall and wrap coils at strategic spots to wall bars. From the vending machines, they get chocolate bars, chips, and warm drinks.

“We’re not behind schedule,” Lewis says, giving a look at his watch, “but I’m looking forward to catching Matt or Nicholas and having them squirm for a while.”

“Sora wriggles more, and he makes funny noises when his mouth is taped shut,” Philip reminisces.

“I hope we have time to torture them for a while,” Luke contemplates.

The trio is out soon heading to the gazebo: they can temporarily keep a captive in the storage room underneath; they’ll need to move the prisoner to the Club House or Anne Boleyn’s, which are partially heated.

They exit the semiburied space under the cast iron shelter. Done with the preparations, Lewis and Philip can head to Saint Sebastian’s Hall and mingle with the other lads, with Luke hidden at the bottom of the stairs. They’ll lure one of the residents outside, grab him, and rush him to one of their storage locations.

Lewis and Philip aren’t the only ones on the prowl, though. Ben and Fred have let everyone know they’ll spend time at Ben’s grandparents with some of the Cubs—now Scouts—they met the summer before. But they thought that it would be a great Christmas gift for the foreign students who’d spend the holidays far from their families to get at least an epic TUG thrill.

They’ve entered the estate, bringing in Nate, a cute former Cub with shaggy blond hair, blues eyes and winning smile. He’s close to Ben’s grandparents, and the two friends already had him at the family farm, along with Keith, Billy, and Owen. They played the TUG version of Risk to decide who the two riggers would be.

Owen and Keith won. They bound the four other boys, starting a weekend of tie-up challenges interspersed with bouts of tickling and various olfactory punishments and contests, which saw the teenagers sniff underwear and socks worn by their peers.

Both Nate and Owen are old enough to endure the Saint Sebastian boys’ tough treatments, and both are seen by their friends as worthy allies in a kidnapping mission. Billy and Keith got along with Owen and think mentoring him will have him become a better TUG player. Owen is enthusiastic about learning, winning, and handling captives.

Ben and Fred have similar views, and they’ve seen the cute Nate handle prisoners; he’ll be of help. They’ve worked their plan in total secret, as did all the others.

Lewis steps out of the space under the gazebo only to back down immediately, turning to his mates, a finger on his lips.

“Ben, Fred, and a blond Cub are coming from the bird-watching hut,” he whispers to his teammates.

“They’re either going to the cricket field or to Saint Peter’s,” Philip observes, having taken a peek.

“Luke, follow me,” Lewis orders. “Phil, we’ll deploy to the sides. You know how to remain unseen.”

The trio unfolds; they walk on the lawn, staying under the cover of the coppices, shrubbery, and trees the grounds feature plentifully. They keep some hundred feet apart, following the other three-boy team to the Club House.

Phil waves to explain they should meet at the back door; Lewis agrees.

“When you come in through the back, you’re straight inside the locker room, but there’s a wall hiding the door. It makes a surprise attack possible.”

The commando regroups behind the building. Philip made sure no lock was on the door inside when they came there earlier; they sneak in.

“Before we can attack your friends,” they hear a voice chirping behind the wall, “you owe me one escape challenge.”

Fred and Ben agree sourly; Lewis, Philip, and Luke understand what’s going on and freeze. Philip points at the door; they sneak back outside without a sound.

“How long should we wait?” Luke whispers when they’ve walked far away enough from the building.

“How fast is Nate?”

“He’s good. He goes over the bonds a few times before he launches the timer, but he lays them fast at the beginning.”

“Five minutes?”

They agree and tiptoe back to the door twenty feet away once the time is up. They slip through the door, blessing the maintenance crew for the well-oiled hinges that make their stealth entrance possible.

“Okay, the bonds are good. I’ll shut you up now.”

Philip slides to the wall’s end and peeks beyond. He shows the OK gesture to his accomplices behind him; Nate has his back to him—it’s going to be a piece of cake.

Fred and Ben are lying face down on benches; they aren’t gagged yet, and the former spots Phil’s head.

“Nate, behind you!” Fred warns, which has the younger boy smile.

“Nice trick, but I won’t bite. I’m going to shut this yap of yours, though, it’ll save you from mrmmmrbbblrmmmm!”

Fred’s alert triggers the three intruders into action; even if Nate had reacted to the warning, his fate was decided already, as he is no match against three skilled assaulters.

“Now, young man, you’ve got to learn to respect our friends.”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Lewis? You were supposed to come in late this afternoon.”

“Let’s say that I’ve managed to feed you wrong intelligence over the last couple months. I didn’t think you would be here at all. I’ll hold the twerp. Gag our friends before they become unpleasant,” Lewis asks his two henchmen.


TBC

[Bondwriter]

Chapter 2. Morning Catches

Phil and Luke follow the order gleefully. The bags Nate left open, filled with worn socks, swimming caps, tape, and many scarves of all makes and sizes, provide the two acolytes with all they need to silence the struggling hogtied boys, Ben and Fred.

Ben gets worn Speedos packed in his mouth, which Luke seized as soon as he spotted them. A quick sniff confirmed it was Nate’s. Luke has a knack for forcefully opening his victims’ mouths; having experienced it before, Ben lets him stuff the folded nylon to avoid getting his hair yanked.

Nate fights, but Lewis’s grasp is strong; he keeps the blond boy in an armlock that results in pain if resisted. With a handgag over the boy’s mouth, Lewis him down.

“Watch how Luke and Phil finish the job for you. Then, you’ll get a taste of being bound by experts firsthand!”

The two henchmen laugh as they plaster layers of tape over their prisoners’ mouth to trap the Speedos and socks in. Philip wraps wide electric tape, a red one, five times around Fred’s head. He turns his victim on the side and grabs his face, looking into his eyes.

“You’ve come to meddle in our plan. We’ll have you regret it, of course,” Phil sniggers.

The two dormmates are handled satisfyingly; the attackers can turn to helping Lewis out. Nate hasn’t stopped struggling, but he hasn't managed to yank a limb free, and the handgag held firm, allowing him to cast very few insults, just a buzzing sound echoing in the room. It resounds with Fred’s and Ben’s pleas, delighting the trio who is getting them under their control.

Nate gets his own masterful hogtie. He’s nimbler, and his legs are folded until his sneakers’ heels press against his bum. They do his arms tight too, though they don’t give him the reverse-prayer he forced on his own victims. His forearms are bound close and his elbows almost touch, which isn’t much better.

“We should store them somewhere they won’t be found if someone comes,” Lewis reflects out loud.

“The hamper is big,” Philip snarls.

Luke can’t help but laugh. He rushes to help out, assessing the canvas hamper’s content: jockstraps, sweaty socks, and jerseys.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Lewis says, “but now we’ve got you, we’d better make sure you keep still while we kidnap our friends.”

Fred and Ben are put inside facing each other, lying on their sides. They make room and stick Nate between them, face up.

“Have a great afternoon, lads,” Philip greets before Lewis slams the hamper’s lids shut and locks them.

“Even if you free yourselves from our ropes, which I doubt, you can’t get out!” Lewis brags.

The trio leaves the locker room and heads to the lounge to assess the situation. It went well but not quite according to plan.

“We’ll have more captives to handle, which means we must act faster. We can’t just leave them with the laundry until the evening while we go abduct our mates,” Lewis states.

“Luke and I could keep them here while you go over there on your own,” Philip elaborates, “and you bring one of them back here using your charm. It’s easy. We’ve got to grab Nicholas, Sora, and Matt; if we ambush one, then it’s just three against two. We can store our prisoners in the maintenance building and retrieve them once the two other boarders are subdued.”

Lewis is beaming from his goon’s strategy, which has Luke feel good about their prospects. The black boy also looks forward to getting their captives out of the hamper to have fun assisting a proved sadist like Phil.

“Excellent plan, Phil. I’ll pack a rucksack and get going. I’ll tell our dormmates that you’re coming in later. I have an idea to get them here.”

They return to the hamper and open it, revealing three squirming bodies that haven’t gotten nowhere near breaking free.

“You’ll have company,” Lewis comforts the bound boys. “I trust you to be creative with our friends. Ben and Fred deserve the best, and the blond cutie pie is worthy of good bonds,” the leader extolls the guards he leaves behind.

“We’ll keep them good, and don’t worry, they won’t call out for help,” Luke winks at Lewis.

The optimist competitor heads out for another swift victory. The fog almost lifted one hour ago, but it is growing thick again. His steps on the snow crunch ever so faintly. Mist helps for stealth, especially when you know the estate’s every nook and cranny.

Alas for Lewis, the fog also conceals another trio: Jason, aka the Boar, who recruited two Cubs, Liam and Finley. They’ve had a reunion back in September at Liam’s grandparents’ farm in the country. An old building which was remodelled in a detached house proved a good location to hold knot-tying workshops.

They thought of a Christmas caper back then; when they came back to school, it was known the foreign students would stay, with Travis supervising. Matt would spend Christmas Eve with them; Philip and Lewis also signed up to come and keep the lonely students company.

Jason got the idea from Liam. Finley was stuck in a ball-tie and still had fifteen minutes for his attempt. The younger boy asked the Boar what Saint Sebastian was like; the tales the Cubs heard about the place made it a mythical location they all dreamed to visit.

When the older teen told about Christmas plans, Liam joked it would be fun to kidnap those who stayed; the idea stuck with Jason, who decided to build a three-man squad to make Christmas Eve memorable for his friends.

Phone calls and emails allowed the three allies to conspire and get inside Saint Thomas More by noon. Jason took the lads around the school, keeping to the outside walls or fences and hiding as much as he could, especially from Saint Sebastian, where the boarders would likely be.

The trio has foreseen an encounter with one or two of them and thus carry all the equipment to neutralize the unlucky lads. They pass the bird-watching hut and take the narrow path going through bushes that lead to the main grounds, which offers a sightline on the gazebo and most of the buildings: Saint Peter’s, Saint Sebastian’s, Anne Boleyn’s and of course Thomas More’s.

Jason halts his troop, a hand raised and a finger on his lips. The soft wind blowing towards them carries cologne smell; he knows it’s Lewis. Liam and Finley soon hear the sounds of steps on the snow. Their time has come; they hide on the path’s sides and wait.

Lewis is startled; three pairs of hands surge from the shrubbery. Jason’s right one lands on his mouth and keeps his surprise silent. His legs are already being bound by nimble fingers. Cubs! The Boar has gathered a team, and he kept it secret from them. What a devious, dastardly dormmate!

“I didn’t expect you so early, Lewis, but we need to start with someone. Don’t worry. My friends are trained to be fast and effective,” the former bully whispers in his ear.

They are indeed; his wrists were sneakily wrapped in rope before he could do anything, and one of the diminutive attackers is wrapped around his legs, binding them in ropes. The other one gets his elbows together once the six turns of white cotton rope become sturdy handcuffs.

While Jason’s hand unrelentingly muffles Lewis’s protests, his knees and ankles are trussed up and cinched. A final rope ensnares the top of his thighs, the tracksuit pants clinging to his muscular flesh. The two boys stand up, showing their victim their merry mugs. He recognizes Liam and Finley.

The victorious smiles remind the older teen of the summer workshops and games. Finley has a cute, cheeky smile. He wears thick glasses; he’s got big blue eyes and short brown hair. His smile veers on the ominous as he presents socks and rags to Lewis; Liam is holding the tape roll.

Lewis tries a shout when Jason lifts his hand, but the fiend knows how to handle the move; he sticks his thumb inside Lewis’s mouth and yanks his jaws open as his accomplices cram the worn socks and underwear. He removes his finger, and Liam plasters Lewis’s lips shut with surgical tape. Three turns cover the lower face, going around the teen’s head and making the setup sturdy. The scrawny twelve-year-olds is always keen on applying strict gags.

“Good job. Let’s get him to a safe place. We’ve spotted warm places, Lou. You’re lucky we don’t leave you out there freezing, trussed up to a tree.”

Nothing shames Lewis more than a condescending opponent.

“Mmmmrgrmmphmmbbllmm!?!” he blushes.

Jason bends his knees, positioning himself to get the captured wanderer on his shoulder.

“He’s got moss on his feet—he comes from the cricket field. We’ll put him in the art classroom at Saint Peter’s. I’ve got the key.”

The Cubs are impressed.

TBC

[Bondwriter]

Final installment!

Chapter 3. Snowmen and Christmas Trees

Jason and his young henchmen take slow steps to make as little noise as possible. With the bound Lewis across his shoulder, he leads his crew on a short itinerary that mostly keeps them under the cover of foliage.

They’re soon on the second floor of Saint Peter’s. The classroom feels warm despite the heating being lower than usual. The Cubs search inside Lewis’s rucksack. It’s filled with goodies: rope, tape, scarves, four leather cuffs, three bits of chain, and locks.

They have their captive chair-tied in less than ten minutes. His leather cuffs wrap his wrists and ankles; two bits of chain go around a rung, fixing his bound limbs to the wooden furniture.

“I’ll bet you didn’t come alone,” Jason comments, gazing outside the window towards the cricket field and the brick building next to it: the Club House has intermittent lighting, meaning people inside are triggering the automatic switches in the halls.

“Your goons will join you soon, don’t worry,” he snarls.

Lewis grumbles, but Finley tightens an additional scarf over the gag.

“Our bags are ready. Let’s go, Jase!”

The trio dashes out hunting for more preys; Lewis assesses his bonds and realizes that once again he’s in for hard-fought captivity. He thinks of his teammates. Are they going to hear Jason and his committed friends enter the building? Can they put up a fight, being just two?

Within a stone’s throw, Luke and Philip entertain themselves with their three captives, blissfully unaware of their leader’s fate. They have moved Fred and Ben from the hamper back onto the benches, supine and ball-tied. The pair of abductors undertake trussing Nate up before deciding whom to tickle first.

Philip makes trips to the hall to get stuff from the lockers: stuffing for gags, restraints, whipping or tickling implements. On his third one, though, as he turns around the corner, Jason and two shrimps he brought along seize him. They use zip ties to immobilize his limbs in thin, cruel plastic bands that bite into his skin and Jason crams a rolled-up sock in his mouth.

“He’s neutralized. Let’s handle his teammates.”

After leaving the helpless boy lying on the floor, they walk down the hall and enter the locker room. Luke spots them as he’s hogtying Nate on the concrete floor. He has barely time to stand and face his attackers before they’re upon him and use their tried-and-true skills to make a prisoner helpless. Coils of rope pile up on the floor; they’re put to good use, as are socks rolled inside sneakers, which look like Ben’s. He hasn’t the smelliest, feet but it saves on using their supplies, which don’t feature more pungent footwear anyway.

Luke struggles, but coil after coil, wrapped and pulled, slowly ensnares him in an ineluctable web. The three turns of vet wrap around his head will keep Ben’s sock inside his mouth.

“Let’s take them all back to Saint Peter’s. We’ll store them with Lewis upstairs,” Jason says.

“Mgrmbllm?” Luke wonders.

“Your mighty leader fell into our hands. We’ll have presents galore for our Saint Sebastian friends!”

They spend the next ten minutes freeing Ben and Fred from their benches while keeping them restrained and under control. Philip gets roped up to the school standards with white cotton rope instead of plastic.

“Watch out,” Jason advises as he and his crew put the last touch to their chain gang, “there might be others in Lewis’s team.”

The chain gang progresses slowly. They don’t go far and soon enter the building, detecting no sign of a human presence. They climb the stairs up to the room where they stored their first captive.

Lewis hasn’t managed an escape; Liam and Finley inspect his bonds, proud to see their knots held. They’re eager to get more practice, and for Jason this is the perfect time to do so.

While the keen learners handle the chair-tying, he keeps watch at the door, ready to thwart an assault coming from the hall. A joyful half-hour of rope-craft ensues, and then another fifteen minutes to improve on the detainees’ silencing: Luke and Philip get bigger mouth packings and Jason brings out the swimming caps to fully mummify their heads with three makes of tape: silver, surgical, and electric.

Ben, Fred, and Nate aren’t as severely gagged, but they get additional scarves nonetheless.

“They’re all set, Jason. I think they can’t get out without any help,” Finley boasts.

“This should hold them. They won’t have to wait for long. Snatching our targets in Saint Sebastian’s will be child’s play. Then we may prepare them for a Christmas Eve they’ll never forget!”

“Some of them can play the turkeys, hogtied on the table,” Liam suggests without any pretence at humour.

“Hrmmmph!” Philip warns.

“Grmbbll,” Luke threatens.

Jason rallies his troops. They fill rucksacks with gear to catch and trap their last victims. Rushing downstairs, they laugh at the good trick they just pulled on their peers. The cold bites their faces as they exit.

“We’ll jog to Saint Sebastian’s to keep warm. Follow me this way. We won’t be seen,” Jason cheers his troops up, pointing at the path going through coppices.

Tens of feet away, two shapeless white masses refrain from chuckling; they can see their targets very well, though the Boar is right that he can’t be seen from Saint Sebastian’s. The two hunters have trailed their targets; concealed behind snow suits that blend in with the snowy landscape, Billy and Keith have been waiting for Jason and his younger friends.

Billy also plotted to be there when they found out three months ago some of their dormmates would stay at Saint Sebastian’s for the holidays. Lewis and Philip even offered the boys to spend Christmas Eve with them; Billy and Keith suspected some trick, which motivated them even more.

The white overalls they procured a couple weeks ago make them look like two polar explorers; the three boisterous rope warriors who came out of the building have no idea they were spied on. Billy presses a few keys on his cell phone and pats Keith’s shoulder. They prod on, trailing the game that’s heading straight into their trap.

The trio quiets down as they pass the gazebo. They are now in sight of Saint Sebastian’s. Behind them, in the misty dusk, the prowlers make no noise; their plan underwent last-minute changes, but so far, it’s developing as Billy schemed.

When Jason’s gang enters the building, Billy raises his hand; he and Keith get the gear from the small rucksack strapped to their front, under the overalls. They lift their feet and step carefully to prevent the telling sound of crushing snow.

The double door opens on a hall at the bottom of stairs, where modern fire and safety regulations required placing another door.

It just closed, pulled by the well-tuned spring mechanism. Billy and Keith stay at the right distance, expecting it to open any moment. Steps running down the stairs announce the two Cubs fleeing their attackers. The door swings on its hinges and the younger boys rush into their captors’ arms.

“Good evening,” Billy hisses, embracing Liam, whom he spins to get in an armlock.

“Welcome!” Keith greets Finley, who threw himself into his arms. A judo move takes the younger boy down onto his belly; Keith’s mastery saves the runner and his eyeglasses from harm. Finley can’t fight Keith. Straddling the younger boy, ropes in hand, Keith turns him into a sausage in no time.

“Almost done with this one, Billy.”

“Same here,” Billy replies, tying Liam’s elbows with one hand, a knee pinned at the small of his back to press the scrawny boy against the wall. “The little blighter is flexible, at least.”

The attackers’ words trigger protests from the tricked competitors; they're short-lived, as the walking snowmen are well equipped to muffle them. Clean socks fill the small yaps and tape covers their lips.

“My, lads. Didn’t Jason tell you provoking us would cost you?” Keith sneers, putting the boy’s glasses back on now he’s gagged to standard.

“Let’s go see what happened to Jason.”

Keith pulls the door open and has his charge hops towards the stairs, followed by Liam and Billy.

They reach the landing where Nicholas, Matt, and Sora are completing Jason’s trussing up. The tall boy lies unconscious on the wooden floor, though he shows signs of waking up.

“Your plan worked, Billy,” Sora thanks his friend. “I’m glad you had some Chloroform left!”

Matt cinches the ankles’ rope, awaking the Boar.

“What’s going on? Where am grmmbbllm?!”

Nicholas clamps his hand on the boy’s mouth.

“We’re just making you our prisoners—and soon the decorations for our Christmas party,” Billy explains, “and props don’t talk.”

Sora comes to assist his dormmate, a massive cloth ball in one hand and a shiny duct tape roll in the other. Jason struggles while the Cubs watch helplessly.

“I picked up on all of you setting your attack and planning on coming for a surprise Christmas visit. To be frank, Keith and I first thought of abducting you,” he confesses to his three friends, standing up and putting Jason on his feet. “Now that all the visitors have been made harmless, we can start preparing our party! Who is coming with me to pick up the others in Saint Peter’s?”

The five boys get very busy over the next two hours. The “rescue party” that Matt leads into Saint Peter’s finds chair-tied boys with eyes opened as wide as saucers. The seasonal greetings don’t amuse the prisoners, and being told of their role for the evening elicits muffled insults.

The chain gang takes a moment to set up. The captors remove the prisoners’ trousers.

“In just your undies, you’d better not dawdle when we take you to the Prefects’ room,” Sora warns as he slides Lewis’s tracksuit pants down .



And thus the boys head back to the Saint Sebastian boys’ lair on the top floor, a docile flock that follows orders to find themselves in a heated building quickly.

The large room that hosts their festivities soon has a Christmas tree and a Nativity scene, which get their guests involved.

They built poles on wheels in the fall, and one of their designs hosts Liam, trussed up to play the Christmas tree; he’s dressed in a green long-sleeved jersey and brown trousers, and garlands and baubles are fixed above the coils of rope. The decorators even put a little star on top of his head.

The Nativity starts Lewis as the Messiah: he’s nude save for a pull-up diaper, and spread-eagled in a large cradle. His wrists and ankles are cuffed and locked, with tough but discreet restraints. Sora stuck a dummy in his gob and knotted a wide ribbon on his nape, keeping the mouth-filling plug in until a rescuer would come.

Finley is Joseph and Philip plays Mary. They’re bound on their knees, arms in a reverse-prayer position. Philip’s blue veil and Finley’s fake beard are the main props to characterize the boys; they’re wearing shorts and jerseys only, but the headwear does its job to identify the character. It barely conceals the thick gags underneath.

Jason plays a shepherd; Nate is the sheep he brings to worship the new-born saviour; rather than having him across Jason’s shoulders, they have the boy sitting on them, his legs intricately bound to the shepherd’s arms, his thighs locked around the tall boy’s gagged face; his wrists are kept at the small of his back in rope.

Nate wears a white wool cardigan as a sheep costume, though the shepherd’s nylon shorts are not in line with historical realism. Jason’s bare except for them, which makes a fine sight. Nicholas and Billy concocted a rope network that enhances the muscular body.

Fred, Luke and Ben play the Wise Men; they’re dressed in footie kits with short capes and fake beards on top. Their arms are kept together behind them, their elbows almost touching and they stand in a line. The eight-foot long broom stick going between their ankles forces them to keep that way; the elegant turns of rope weld their limbs to the piece of wood.

“Crapcakes, it took us some effort, but it’s worth it,” Sora says once Billy decrees they’re done.

“Definitely,” the gang leader confirms, standing over Lewis, stretching his arm towards his face to flick baby Jesus’s nose. “Lewis is hopeless, but that’s why we love him. Our initial plans when we first talked about Christmas were to surprise you with an attack, lads,” Billy says, turning to Nicholas, Sora and Matt, “and when we heard Philip and Lewis volunteered to stay with the poor, estranged foreign students, we knew we’d have fun.”

Gagged wails from come Lewis and Philip.

“You bet,” Keith laughs, “You were game from day one, and consider yourselves lucky, we had worse plans in store for you. Do you want to know about them?”

The protests stop.

“Congratulations, Jason,” Billy praises, “You managed to get your squad in without us having the least knowledge you would come. Ben and Fred had spoken many times about it, unaware Keith or I were around. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t stealthy enough.”

“It’s funny,” Matt says, “Lewis disturbed your plans and we spotted you going into Saint Peter. Keith and Billy had gotten overalls from the maintenance room and it really made them difficult to spot in the snow, so they spied on you. We just headed back to Saint Sebastian, waiting for anyone coming up the stairs.”

“We saved some Chloroform from this summer,” Nicholas confesses, “which came handy when Jason showed up.”

Lewis protests this attack to rules.

“Mggrmmm!”

“No fuss, please. We’re going to take pictures and videos of this magical Christmas pageant. If you all cooperate, then we’ll free you for a meal and more games. You want to have a nice Saint Sebastian Christmas, don’t you?” Billy tells his captives, beaming.

End of the episode.

[Carnath]

Always fan of this story. I hope to read more soon

[Bondwriter]

[mention]Carnath[/mention] Glad you enjoyed this episode. There are many others to be told, not to worry!