Gentlemen's agreement (M\M) Chapter 1-8

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Gentlemen's agreement (M\M) Chapter 1-8

Post by Deleted User 5033 »

“Hey, Anders...Yo Ders, wake up!” My barely conscious mind struggled to process the words. With herculean effort, I managed to open my eyes, which slowly adjusted to the light. Or I should say, rather quickly adjusted to the lack of light. The room was almost pitch black; looking out the window to the right, next to my bottom bunk, I saw that the sun had not yet even appeared on the horizon. I flipped my sheet off of my bare chest to make room for my arms to move, and rubbed my eyes, then looked over to the left to see my roommate Jon kneeling over me.

He was grinning that charming, boyish, confident smile. He had clear smooth brown skin, which matched his big dark eyes, buzzed coarse hair, matching the stubble on his strong jawline, and handsome, masculine features. His grin opened up into a smile as he chuckled, showing pearly, straight teeth. “It’s time.” He said victoriously, in his smooth baritone voice, giving the top of my blond hair a tousle, before rubbing and playfully shoving the faded side of my head, and face.

My eyes widened, partly in surprise, mostly in an attempt to awaken myself further. Not sure that ever works. “Now?!” I ask, incredulous. “What time is it? Are...we doing this before you go to work?” I looked at him again more closely, and confirmed my suspicion. He was in his tattered, paint stained working jeans, timberlands, and underarmour t-shirt that stretched tightly across his strong, powerful frame, with a bandanna tied around his neck; his usual work attire for the maintenance he did at our college.

“Yup.” He said matter-of-factly, smirking again. “Deals a deal, Ders.” He reminded me. He was right, of course. It was a matter of honor, of pride between us men; bargains are upheld, and words are honored. “You remember that stuff I brought home last night? Said a buddy gave it to me?” He said, gesturing towards our small closet. I sat up against the wall, next to the window, and kicked the sheet off of me; it was hot anyway, and I was sweating. I rubbed my face attempting to.I don’t know exactly, whatever it is exhausted people try to do in the morning. Finally, I looked him in the eye and somewhat sheepishly answered “Yeah…” I was about a head taller than Jon (thank you, Viking blood) but less broad. I was more lean, and him, more broad, but both of us were strong, and muscular. We had wrestled a lot before, and I had an advantage due to my long reach, leverage, and flexibility, which he matched with sheer power and solidity. However, I, as I sat there in just my tight black Calvin Klein trunks (a splurge, but worth the investment), exhausted, and on the losing end of our arrangement, felt very much at a disadvantage.

I broke eye contact and looked down at his powerful chest instead. He likely noticed this sign of weakness, and chuckled. His laugh was somehow comforting, reassuring. There was always a genuine wholesomeness to Jon...even when he woke you up before the crack of dawn to collect on a debt. My eyes widened somewhat, as he lifted my head up with his strong calloused hand gently grabbing at my jaw, with his thumb on the top of my chin. As my faded blue eyes locked with his deep brown eyes, I expected some kind of heart to heart message, encouragement, or forgiveness, such was the warmth of the gesture, and happiness on Jon’s face. “Open.” He said firmly, all the while still as bright and chipper as ever. Ah, yeah…that makes more sense, he is just enjoying this.

In his left hand, he held a pair of his grey hanes boxer briefs, clean, thankfully. I submissively opened my mouth wide, barely able to keep my eyes open as he unceremoniously, but not roughly packed the underwear into my mouth, stuffing with his left hand and keeping my jaw open with his right. I sighed slightly as my jaw began to ache with the pressure. Jon responded with a chuckle, and a pat on the cheek that might have been endearing had I been in a better mood. But that sigh was all the struggle I was going to put up. This was a matter of honor.
Lemme explain.

Jon and I are dear friends. We talk for hours at a time, often about nonsense. We are both rather laid back, have similar interests in various fandoms and realms of study, workout together, and have thoroughly enjoyed rooming together this past year. On the surface, we appear to be confident, relaxed young men, not particularly rowdy, almost old fashioned in how we conduct ourselves. We live by a standard of honor, and integrity, which mostly boils down to ‘don’t be a jerk’ and ‘help folks who are weaker than you.’
However, below this clean cut, boy next-door exterior is an ocean of testosterone in both of us, flooding into our male ego at a moments notice. Surges of adrenaline demand grand gestures of strength and bravado. Honor demands it! So how do we hold back this tide of masculine energy? Simple. Challenges.

This particular challenge had been a long time coming, over a semester. We were both enrolled in summer school currently, and working at our college as well. We waited till one week in to check our grades from last semester. The man with the higher gpa for that semester was the winner. And the loser? Well he got to be the winner’s captive for the weekend. No escaping, not even struggling without permission, no complaining, total compliance, and whenever, IF ever freed, you were to be the personal slave of the winner. (We decided to wait a week to check the grades, just so we had time to settle in, and get books and such for the summer classes.)

We had checked last night, Thursday, just before Jon went to bed. By about 10 points on a final, I lost; an entire semester of hard work lead up to this disappointment. But! Fair is fair. Jon worked just as hard, and the better man won. Begrudgingly though it may be, I accepted my captivity, and whatever else he had planned for me. Though I hadn’t expected him to start at 4 in the morning!

“Got some big plans for your first tie, captive.” He said, excitedly somehow without a hint of mean-spiritedness. Have you ever wished someone were less nice, and charming, so you could feel better about being angry with them? That’s Jon. “And permission granted to struggle. If you get out of this tie…” he began as he pulled up a roll of black duct tape and began unpeeling it. “You’ll have earned a day of freedom!” he said with a smile.

My heart began to race a bit with excitement, but I tried to calm myself down. I was a wiry, stubborn, flexible escape artist, to be sure, but Jon knew this. He was methodical and practical, and knew me well...and he had been planning. Jon matched all of my cleverness with practicality; even within our losses, we had a sort of meta game, which went back and forth, seeing if we could subvert punishments via escape, or find some loophole. We had a fairly constant leapfrog, going back and forth learning new ways to predict and counter each other, but more recently, we learned to never underestimate one another. Our punishments reflected this, as it had been over a month since one of us had actually escaped.

“Hands into fists. Tight.” He said calmly and commandingly. I complied immediately. Even if I hadn’t been the loser, Jon just had this effortlessly dominating, comforting presence. Though I would never let him know that. He tightly wound the tape around my fists until I was left with two inarticulate masses, a far cry from the thin, dexterous escape artist tools my hands usually were. I gulped slightly; already I was at a massive disadvantage. Jon noticed this minute sign of nervousness, and smiled, giving me a pat on the arm as encouragement. “I want you to give me your best escape attempt. I have seen what you can do man!” He said assertively. I nodded, gaining a bit more confidence. Maybe my tiredness had been making me emotional...yet another advantage Jon had taken. All the more reason for me to focus, and be on my A game though!

I was surprised when he put the tape down. I was certain that he would finish off the underwear gag that was bursting out of my mouth, but no. Perhaps he knew that I wouldn’t spit it out, but still; leaving any part of the restraint unfinished simply wasn’t done. I felt almost disrespected, but decided to calm myself down. This is Jon...there must be a reason. Something I am missing.

“So my friend works at a factory that does a lot of packing. Asked him for a few things…” Jon said, his voice trailing off as he walked to the closet, distracted by what was inside. He produced a large roll of industrial pallet wrap, and slid something into his pocket that I couldn’t get a good look at. He also picked up the old military backpack, where we kept our usual supplies for disciplining prisoners; ropes, bandanas, tape, etc. As he walked over to me with a confident smile, I looked at him calmly, but defiantly. I breathed deeply, and mentally steeled myself for what I assumed would be a very thorough, and total immobilization.

I was right.



First post here, and I would very much appreciate feedback. Please let me know your thoughts on the content, as well as the formatting. The story is fictional, but based loosely on real people and events.
Last edited by Deleted User 5033 4 years ago, edited 5 times in total.
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DeeperThanRed
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

I think you did a fantastic job for your first story here. Your writing is fluent and easy to read.

I liked Jon and Anders already. They both seem like very nice dudes on top of being good looking. (And we can always use a bit more racial diversity in TUGs)

While the tone itself was playful, there was still some competition and tension between the characters and it was fun to read. Great underwear gag and use of tape. I'm looking forward seeing what this "total immobilization" entails.

Looking forward to see more of your work!
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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Post by Xtc »

Welcome to the League of TUGs Writers. Nice, unfussy start that allows readers to exercise thoer own intlelligence. I look forward to the next part.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Ey, thanks folks. I was going back and forth with how much of a slower pace I should go for at the start. I settled on this, because I thought it would set the stage, get you familiar with the characters, and hopefully build up expectations. Really glad that seemed to be the case. Thanks for the feedback folks :)
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Chapter 2

“UP!” Jon grunted, giving me his best (and very convincing) drill sergeant impression. Having woken up some, and gotten my blood and adrenaline pumping from the excitement, I stood bolt upright, and at attention. Jon and I both had friends and family in the military, and our challenges had increasingly been influenced by military standards and aesthetics. I was now his POW, or a subordinate being disciplined by a senior officer. I held my head up high, and looked slightly beyond Jon as I calmed my breathing, and awaited punishment.

He paced around me slowly, as if inspecting me, as he pulled out a pocket knife, and put it, open, on the desk behind me beside our bunk bed. He was now behind me, unpeeling the corners of the pallet wrap, and breathing down my neck. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt his presence behind me, and his hot breath on my neck and back, as the slightly sticky pallet wrap echoed in the otherwise silent room. He was trying to get a rise out of me, I am sure. I steel myself, resisting the urge to squirm, or cower, or lash out and fight. Resisting the fight or flight response is tricky, but I kept my cool. Jon just chuckled, and unpeeled the pallet wrap proper, letting out a slight ripping sound.

“Relax, slow down your breathing. That’s it, slump your shoulders. I know you like to expand your chest when you get tied. Not gonna happen this time, Ders.” He spoke calmly as I followed his instructions. I released as much tension as I could, exhaled, and made myself small, making me feel off balance somehow, and more submissive. As I exhaled, he wrapped the first loop of pallet wrap around my shoulders, arms and chest, squeezing them together and matting down my chest hair. I noticed him pause, and couldn’t figure out why for a moment. Then it hit me as I exhaled again, and he started wrapping once more, going lower down my torso. He was only wrapping once my lungs had emptied, and my chest was at its thinnest. He was going to allow me no looseness or wiggly room.

I furrowed my brow at the realization, but decided it would be best to cooperate; I took long pauses before inhaling, which I did quickly, to let him wrap more frequently with fewer breaks. He worked efficiently and aggressively with the wrap, giving my whole torso an average of six or seven wraps, causing the clear wrap to appear almost milky as I looked down at it. He finally stopped at my waist, wrapping just under the fancy Calvin Klein logo on my trunks, and just above my taped fist. He then grabbed his pocket knife, and sliced neatly through the pallet wrap, holding the end of it in place on my side while he dropped the pallet wrap and picked up the duct tape. With his teeth, he peeled at the tape, placing the strip on the end of the wrap, sliced it and smoothed it, sealing the torso.

I looked down quizzically; this wasn’t as efficient and effective as Jon would usually seal something. There had to be more coming. I then scoffed a bit at the thought, since I was standing there with my hands and torso more or less completely sealed. “You good?” Jon asked seriously. I took just a moment to soak in what was happening, to breath, flex, stretch, whatever. Not to stall, but to be honest; I knew he didn’t want me hurt...just dominated. I noticed that breathing was not uncomfortable, but it did feel similar to straining or stretching your muscles against bonds. It was gonna be a lot of effort to struggle when even breathing tightened the wrap, but I would be ok. I grunted into the underwear soaking up my saliva, and gave a short nod.

“Good. Cause I have a lot more planned.” He said confidently as he picked up the pallet wrap again. This time, he began wrapping diagonally, from my stomach, up over my left collar bone, covering my shoulders and up to my neck, then wrapping it around my right forearm, horizontally across my stomach, then angling it back up over my shoulder again, completing the process about four times. This explained the single piece of tape sealing the pallet wrap from before; if he was just going to wrap more around my, no need to waste lots of duct tape (for which I am certain he had plans for later.) He then repeated the process on the other side, wrapping up my right collar bone and shoulder. Finally putting the pallet wrap down, he picked up the roll of black duct tape, and wrapped it in ‘bands’ around my stomach, just above my waistband, then under and above the widest point of my chest, efficiently sealing the pallet wrap cocoon around my torso.

He gave my back a hearty pat, saying “Good start, eh?”, to which I grunted. “Hm...let’s see if we can’t adjust that gag a bit.” He said as he grabbed my jaw from behind me with his right hand. Grabbing the underwear stuffed in my mouth with his left hand, he lifted up, prying my mouth open, then pulled out and rotated them, so that the dry cloth that had been jutting out of my mouth was the first part that went into my gaping maw. I grunted a bit in frustration and discomfort as he wrestled his underwear deeper into my mouth, methodically pushing and twisting it so that it fit juuuust right. Since the front half which had been in my mouth before was now soggy, and clamped down from my teeth, he actually managed to fit the whole pair of boxer briefs in my mouth, though it left my mouth open so wide that I couldn’t close my lips.

He patted my cheek, which were full to bursting, and said “There...much better. You know I coulda used some dirty ones, right?.” I groaned, before nodding in response. Jon was efficient, more than devious, but he also liked to get in your head a bit. Remind you that he COULD be devious, and just might be if you don’t show some respect. “Good. Don’t think I’ll be needing to though...you’ve been good so far.” He said with a chuckle, before leading me over to the pole of our bunk bed opposite the desk, and leaning me against it.

“Stay steady, and relax your leg muscles. I’ll keep you from falling, trust me.” He said in his calm, commanding voice, as he began winding the pallet wrap, first around my trunks and taped fist, then little by little down my muscular legs. True to his word, as he wrapped, he was more slow paced, and methodically, gripping my legs steadily to balance me with one hand as the other moved the clear shiny restraint, passing it to the other hand and grabbing with the now free hand back and forth, not compromising my balance for a faster tie. Luckily for him, it wasn’t too slow, as he didn’t need to work around my breathing. I let my legs relax as much as possible, and as a result of not flexing them or struggling while they were wrapped, my legs were very snugly tied.

Thankfully, he had been more lenient with the wrapping around my crotch, though it wouldn’t matter, as he resumed tying bands of duct tape, now on my lower half. First, around my hands, at about the level where my trunks ended, then above and below the knees, then finally around the ankles, all while keeping me securely against the pole, and balanced. He smoothed out some tape as he inspected (and clearly admired) his handiwork. All I could do was blink, and laboriously breath, as I watched and awaited my captor’s next move.

Satisfied, he locked as with me. My pride must have flared up, because subconsciously, I began staring him down intensely, challenging him. To what, I’m not sure. Quietly, he returned my stare with equal intensity, though his face was calm, and almost cocky, while mine was defiant and frustrated. After what must have been mere seconds, but felt like an hour, I thought the better of it, and settled down. Once more, I broke eye contact and looked down at his chest as my face relaxed. This time though, it was a deliberate decision; he won, and this was not unreasonable. It was better to just submit, show respect, and move on.

I sighed, defeated, at least on some level. I still intended to struggle, but only once he was finished; once he let me. He gave me a pat on the arm with his right hand, giving me a little shake and then rubbing my shoulder. With his left hand, he once again lifted my chin, so my eyes met his. His smile faded slowly, and he seriously, though calmly asked, “Good?”

Perhaps it sounds simple, or minimalistic, but there was a whole wealth of meaning in that simple one word question. I closed my eyes for a moment; “Focus” I said to myself. “Breathe” I thought, as I inhaled slowly. As I exhaled, I opened my eyes and locked them with his own. I had an intensity to my face again, but not an antagonistic one. I gave him a brusque nod, which he met with his usual smirk, ever so slightly more devious than usual this time. “Good.” He said, letting go of me and picking up the military backpack.

“Cause I am still not done.”
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

This story is seriously underrated. Jon is such a great dom, both playful and caring at the same time. Mummification was very throughout, underwear gag is great and it's not even the end.

Kudos.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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Post by Xtc »

This has been very carefully written. Good narrative style. Fine descriptions but also enough of what was behind the actions (fellings, etc) to stop it being in any wa dry. Bravo, Sir.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Chapter 3

I grunted, wide eyed as I was twisted and then heaved off the floor, Jon swiping the back of my knees with his left arm, and catching my falling torso in his right. He had a goofy grin as he carried me back to the center of my bottom bunk. He was probably amused at my nervous breathing; nothing quite like being manhandled by a brawny fella to remind you just how helpless being mummified makes you. On the plus side, I noted that I could wiggle forward and backwards some as my bent body rested in his strong arms; not much give, but it was something.

“Heeeave.” he grunted, tossing me onto the center of my mattress, chuckling as I moaned in alarm mid-flight, and bounced upon impact. He tore off the sheet I had been using as my only blanket, and threw it on the ground, then pulled the pillow out from under my head, bopping me in the face with it before tossing it into a pile with the sheet.

“R-hhy?” I ‘asked’, trying to convey ‘really’ without enough tongue movement to make an L sound. He smiled, more proud of himself than he likely should have been, and pulled out the longest rope we had. Cotton. White. Dirty and worn from frequent use, but still incredibly strong. Like a white boa begging you to underestimate its’ grip. He deftly unwound ‘boa’ and found the center loop (byte), looking me up and down, admiring his handiwork again, perhaps.

There was that distinct soft thud as he flung the loose ends of the rope off to the side, out of his way. He pulled from the byte of the rope down the doubled coils, seemingly judging distance, before tying a simple knot, leaving an almost lasso -like loop. “You know...you’re tied pretty good, Ders.” He said matter-of-factly. This was leading up to something, it had to be. I rolled my eyes, and nodded in agreement. He wasn’t wrong. “Yeah...and you know, I kinda like when you’re all tied up. You know that?” My eyelids lowered, but I was going to be compliant. “Yhshr” I said with a very thick ‘hanes accent.’ He smiled, somehow understanding I meant “yessir.” Guess he spoke ‘underwear gag’.

He placed the makeshift lasso over my head, resting the knot above my sternum, just between my pecs, and fed the byte down to my mid back. “So, Ders,” he began, as he mounted on top of me. “I figure, if I like having you tied so much, I better tie you REAL good. Ya know?” he said, as he separated the strands of rope from the knot on my sternum, bringing both ends, one at a time, towards the loop at my back, and pulling them through it. I sigh a bit, and nod in agreement, as he patiently, methodically pulls at the loose ends, letting the tension tighten the byte, which becomes a triangle at around my shoulder blades. He tugs the loose ends till he is satisfied he has made a tight enough chest harness. “Glad you see it my way buddy.” he says with a smile. I can’t help but chuckle, and shake my head.

Content with the tightness of the makeshift harness, he gives my hair a playful tousle and slides off of me. While I am glad to be rid of the weight, I know it is only temporary, as he slides under the bed. While I have a moment with nothing to really visually stimulate me, my tired, baggy eyes wander outside, to see the first orange and purple shards of sunlight tiptoeing up over the horizon. How long has this taken so far? What time is it? Jon has work at around 5:30, right? My thoughts are interrupted by a gentle, but decisive tugging on the ropes of my chest harness. Jon is tying me down to the bed.

Once he finished with the knot under the bed, Jon climbed on top of me again, his eyes focused, and serious. Grabbing the loose ends of the rope from either side below the bed, he formed a byte in both strands, leaving about a six inch loop in both. Then he tied the bytes together in a square knot firmly over my belly button, with two small loops leftover. Then it was back to underneath the bed, then mounting me and tying up top, again and again, wordlessly and efficiently making his way down my body. I looked on with a mixture of excitement, admiration, and dread at the prospect of trying to wriggle free of both this cocoon, and net of ropes.

“You know Ders, I know you’re a hard worker. Proud. And most of all, stubborn.” Jon said as he finished tying part of his rope net around my ankles, giving a decisive tug to ensure the knot held firm. “I respect that.” He said as he looped the loose ends of the rope around the support beams at my feet, leaving about one third of the rope left. “Of course,” he said, locking eyes with me, “I am just as stubborn." With the remaining rope, he fed the loose strands through the loops left behind by his square knots at my ankle, and pulled them taught, making yet another pulley. He then fed the loop deliberately and patiently through the loops of each knot, above and below the bed, till finally he got to the first knot underneath me, and presumably tied the loose strands to the beams at the head of the bed.

I looked down nervously at the web of rope my captor had weaved for me, and suddenly a new sensation flooded over me; ‘Am I…helpless?’ I thought to myself. Jon stood up, and with his hands on his hips, looked over and admired his handiwork. I felt like a hogtied calf about to be branded, staring up at the cowboy, my new owner, helplessly. Jon wiped bit of sweat from his brow and nodded in approval. He had worked hard for this tie, and planned it carefully, and it showed. He deserved to be proud...heck, I was proud FOR him.

Surprisingly, he reached his hound out, and slowly pulled his underwear out of my dried out mouth, and threw it over towards our laundry hamper. I tried to relax my aching jaw as I waited for his next move; he surely wasn’t going to leave me ungagged. “So” he said quietly with a smile. “Think you can escape?” At the challenge, a flood of testosterone, blood, and pride surged through my body, but I tried to keep cool.
“I’m not giving up. I’m gonna keep struggling.” I said sternly. Jon chuckled.

“That’s not what I asked, but that’s what I wanna hear. You ready for your last surprise?” He asked as he squatted down next to me, leaning towards my head. All I could do was clench my jaw slightly, and try to control my breathing. All this energy inside me had nowhere to go...just had to be patient, and keep that energy for the struggle to come.

“Yessir.” I said respectfully in a quiet voice. It was all I could manage. Jon nodded. He could see I was getting frustrated, and chomping at the bit. He decided to return a kind of respect, and moved quickly and decisively, reaching into the military backpack. “Open.” he said. I complied. “Had my buddy help me make this. Just for you, Ders.” Jo said, pulling out a pallet wrap ball from the pack, a bit smaller than a baseball, with a hole drilled or punched through it, and nylon cord threaded through the hole, knotted on both sides, and seemingly melted slightly to fuse with the wrap. A diy ballgag.

He pushed the ball into my open mouth without a fuss, the widest point of the front of it poking through my teeth, and the height of it being enough to keep my jaw in an unrelaxed state, but not so tall that I couldn’t press my lips together. My face began to grow red with embarrassment. To tell you the truth, the underwear should have been more humiliating, and was more tight, and dried out my mouth. But no...the boxer briefs were a tool that had other uses that Jon had co-opted from on practical purpose to another. This ball was designed specifically to keep me shut up, and make a show of it; nothing else. Something about that incensed me...but also excited me. Those two feelings were multiplied when Jon lashed the two strands of nylon cord together behind my head, a bit looser than I expected, but certainly enough to keep the gag firmly in place.

“Underwear was just to dry out your mouth. Heard these can make people drool a lot, and I don’t wanna come back to a mess.” Jon said dryly. I grimaced a bit as I tested the limits of the gag, rolling it around ever so slightly in my dried out mouth. Sure enough, I did begin to feel a little trickle of spit forming in my mouth, but not enough to stop me from feeling parched. Jon then undid his bandana, and tied a sort of cleave gag overtop the ballgag, though he mostly let the cloth press against my teeth, and stuffed it instead between my lips, the edges of the bandanna touching my gums. “That should keep a bit more in too.” He said, still under the guise of doing this all for purely practical reasons. “And finallyyy.” As he said that, he picked up the roll of black duct tape, and spent a solid 2 minutes slowly, methodically tearing strips off, and plastering and smoothing them over my mouth, jaw, and face. I let out a low, guttural “Mmrrrphm.” as if to confirm to both of us that, yes, I was in fact gagged.

Jon pulled out his phone and checked the time, then smiled. “Noice...got a few more minutes.” He then wrapped duct tape around the soles of my feet, and pulled out some twine, cut it, and thoroughly bound my big toes together. Because I was certainly going to escape mostly with those! Finally he walked over to his closet, and pulled out a long, thick black beanie. He walked over to me very slowly with his arms crossed, and a smile on his face. Quite simply, he was proud of a job well done. My feelings as I looked back at him were more complex. Part of me wanted to thrash in anger at my wounded pride; part of me wanted to beg for release; still another part of me looked back at him with respect. Begrudgingly, the final part won out.

With a sigh, I nodded my head at him, as a sort of weak sign of deference, and respect. What other gesture was I supposed to give in my current state. He understood my meaning though, as his face brightened and his smile widened. “You submit?” He asked. It may seem strange to have asked that question at this point, but rest assured, there is power in having your captive say they submit, not just experience it. Caught off guard by the question, I let out a small laugh, but then nodded my head. “Good…you gonna put up a good fight?” He asked, his voice rising in volume and intensity. Whether he could see it or not, I smiled, and gave him a decisive nod. “Good man. And good luck buddy,” he said, walking over and pulling the thick beanie over my whole head, down to about my lips. “You’ll need it.”
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Post by Veracity »

Really like your style. Nice work.
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Post by bondagefreak »

[mention]SkinnySnorlax[/mention] Hey there! Welcome to the forum, mate!
Just finished reading chapter one and two and really enjoyed what you're written so far.

This is fantastic stuff.
Quality of the writing is on par with some of the forum's best works, so it' s a pleasure to have an author or your caliber join our ranks! Hope you decide to stay with us for a long time.


As for the story itself, this scene really hit the spot for me.
“Hm...let’s see if we can’t adjust that gag a bit.” He said as he grabbed my jaw from behind me with his right hand. Grabbing the underwear stuffed in my mouth with his left hand, he lifted up, prying my mouth open, then pulled out and rotated them, so that the dry cloth that had been jutting out of my mouth was the first part that went into my gaping maw. I grunted a bit in frustration and discomfort as he wrestled his underwear deeper into my mouth, methodically pushing and twisting it so that it fit juuuust right. Since the front half which had been in my mouth before was now soggy, and clamped down from my teeth, he actually managed to fit the whole pair of boxer briefs in my mouth, though it left my mouth open so wide that I couldn’t close my lips.

He patted my cheek, which were full to bursting, and said “There...much better. You know I coulda used some dirty ones, right?.” I groaned, before nodding in response
I have a serious thing for underwear gags, and was positively thrilled to see Jon take care of properly stuffing Anders' mouth and making sure they were crammed real good inside his yapper.

There are quite a few guys on here who I'd love to gag with my boxers.
Pure gold.

Keep it up, mate!
Looking forward to seeing where this goes.
FOR A LIST OF ALL MY WRITTEN WORKS, CLICK HERE: BONDAGEFREAK'S STORIES

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[quote=bondagefreak post_id=34692 time=1563159648 user_id=73]

"This is fantastic stuff.
Quality of the writing is on par with some of the forum's best works, so it' s a pleasure to have an author or your caliber join our ranks! Hope you decide to stay with us for a long time."

Woah, thanks, that means so much coming from a veteran of the forums, and from what I have seen, a skillful and popular writer.


"As for the story itself, this scene really hit the spot for me."

From the work of yours I have read, I figured you would like that, haha!

"There are quite a few guys on here who I'd love to gag with my boxers.
Pure gold."

I am sure there are many on here who wouldn't mind that!

Thanks for the encouragement and feedback, hope you like the rest!
Ps, I don't think I understand the response\quoting mechanics on this sight, haha
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Chapter 4

“Alright looks good buddy! ” Jon said with a playful pat to my stomach. As I groaned, he leaned close to my face, and whispered gently, “If you need to get out, for any reason, just shout. Hakim is the only guy in earshot, and he already told me he wasn’t doing anything today. You can blame it all on me when he asks for an explanation.” I nodded and grunted in the affirmative, having absolutely NO intention of involving anyone else in this matter, but appreciating the care. “Alright, heading out to work. Wish me luck, ya sausage!” and with that, and one last playful shove to my face, Jon was gone.

I slowed down my breathing as much as I could, and took stock of my situation. Through the beanie, I could see a bit of light pouring out over the horizon, but could see nothing, especially in the still dark room, clearly. I also noticed that I was quite warm, and starting to sweat. Double edged sword, I suppose; I would be working up a tremendous amount of body heat in the coming struggle, but the sweat should help, at least with the pallet wrap. Speaking of which…

I tried wiggling back and forth, then bucking up and down. Whatever give was left in the pallet wrap cocoon had been Mostly eliminated due to the rope pulleys securing me firmly to the bed. I wouldn’t be able to crease or wrinkle any part of the wrap, though Jon had been so thorough, that would have been difficult anyway. Almost as a technicality, I tried to stretch out my fingers, and as I figured, they were helplessly stuck in their cages of tape and pallet wrap. I let out a low groan as I pulled specifically against the net of ropes, testing the limits of how much I could move them, and move within them. I could lift my knees maybe an inch off of the bed at best, and pull from my shins, finding very little slack, though the edge of one coil of rope was very near my heel; that might be the only part that I can get loose at first.

As I slumped my knees back down, already feeling a slight burn in my thighs and abs, I realized another level of immobilization that I hadn’t thought of till now; the bed. I hadn’t thought about it till trying to lift my knees, but my weight, combined with the rope harness had pushed me into the soft padding of the mattress. If I tried to lift parts of my body only slightly, the bed would also rise up, causing more friction if I were to try to loose any coils of rope off of me. I grunted, and made a mental note; I would have to reserve myself to lifting each body part as much as possible, and then struggle. It would make the work much harder on my muscles, but be more efficient. With a tie like this, I couldn’t afford to cut corners. Jon certainly hadn’t.

I felt the mental weight of my situation creep up on me. I had been completely overpowered, and that gets to you. But I was not prey; I knew I had to do two things. First, I had to attack this problem, methodically, one piece at a time. I remember a buddy of mine in the rangers who I had hogtied, and how he deliberately, almost obsessively worked at the loosest, weakest part of the secure tie, eventually breaking free due to his perseverance. He let his frustration fuel him, channeled it productively, and escaped in impressive time.

Second, I needed to stay calm. I would use my frustration, but not let it overwhelm me. To that end, I had one advantage. While I was surely more accustomed to being the one doing the restraining, I had to admit, being bound was relaxing, almost meditative. It was almost paradoxical that I would use the hypnotic aspects of bondage as a means to aid my escape, but my aggressive, young male ego won out over my smaller submissive side.

I focused on my breathing, which was limited via the tape and thick warm beanie. The room was hot, but quiet, and peaceful. The warm orange light of the sunset just barely peeked through the window. All this combined with my almost anesthetic bonds allowed me to quickly calm my mind, even while my heart was pumping, ready to break free. I reminded myself I had Jon’s whole shift to break loose, about six hours. Just needed to calm down a bit more. Just a biiiit more...breathe. I closed my eyes for a moment…
And when I opened them, the room was filled with yellow sunlight. I jerked; I must have fallen asleep! How long was I out!?

* * *

Shorter chapter. Had planned out more after this, but this felt like too good of a point to stop. I also wanted to really get at the mental aspects of tying, and being tied. Let me know what you think, folks!
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

You did an amazing job at reflecting Anders's thoughts at being tied up. How helpless he is just makes the bondage even more impressing.

And it's cute that he fell asleep at the end. Wonder if Jon has a surprise for him when he comes back.

Thanks for the steady updates, I know it's not the easiest thing.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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Post by bondagefreak »

[mention]SkinnySnorlax[/mention] Don't worry about the shorter chapters, those are great.
Generally speaking, most readers on here prefer shorter updates to really long ones.
Shorter, more regular updates is definitely the way to go on here.

And yeah, I have to agree with [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention]. Jon certainly did and excellent job at mummifying Anders up. Being one of the few guys on here who has quite a bit of experience with pallet wrap and duct tape mummification, I can tell you have experience in that field as well.
Either that, or you've been doing lots of reading ;)

Fantastic update, man!
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention]
Thanks for the kind words, boss, as well as the frequent advice. I will definitely keep that tip in mind, and it should work well, since the next few major events in the sequence come in short bursts.

No direct experience actually! But I have definitely carefully observed vids of it, haha. It reminds me of building a wall, setting a foundation and then building on top of it, in addition to the standard principles of good tying. So since you're familiar with it, any advice for Ders's escape attempt? Unless of course you want him to stay tied! :lol:
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

[mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention]
Lol, glad you enjoyed that too! All that time and attention working himself up for this big escape and then....ZZZZ

Maybe it was kinda cheating, but Ders is basically me, so his thoughts are basically what I would think. But I think about bondage a loooot, haha

Keep an eye out for more! Commented on your story '12 trials of Hector', btw, really enjoyed it.
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Post by bondagefreak »

[mention]SkinnySnorlax[/mention] Nope, definitely no advice for Anders 8-)
He's screwed and I hope he stays mummified. With Hakim being not far away and Jon at work, my mind can't help but conjure up a series of delicious possibilities for the next chapters. Anyways, wherever you take us, I'm sure we'll have fun.

As for the mummification, then it seems like you've been watching the right videos.
I don't mean to brag, but none of my mummification victims have ever managed to escape of free themselves of their gags. I'm a slow mummifier. Usually takes me well over an hour to mummify the little guys who've become my regulars, but the result is completely and utterly escape proof. Just as is should be ;)
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention]
Don't mean to brag? Pfft, why not! You've got a perfect record of the IMPORTANT task of sealing up subs! They need a lot of structure and guidance, as I'm sure you know :lol:
Ders is stubborn tho, and I thiiink he might have some tricks up his sleeve. But will it be enough to break out of Jon's thorough bonds?
To be continued, haha
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Chapter 5

I had no context to tell me how much time I wasted. If Jon got back from work before I freed myself, he would either undo all my progress, maybe more strictly, or tie me up in some other, equal duanting restraint. Well, I had tried calming down, and look where it got me! This was time for action! ‘You gonna put up a good fight?’ his voice echoed in my mind. I angrily growled my curse-laden affirmative into my gag(s).

I knew I had to start with my feet, specifically the rope harness at my ankle. Thank goodness he wasn’t somehow able to cinch the ropes. Because of my being a pallet wrap mummy, yeah, but you know...silver linings. I grunted- for the first of many, many times since Jon left- as I lifted my feet and legs as much as I possibly could, wiggling my feet back and forth slowly, methodically, trying to pull a coil of rope, ANY coil, closer to my heel. Surprisingly enough, the tape on my soles and even the twine around my toe, which Jon added more as ‘salt in the wound’, were making this more difficult. I imagined how amused this would make him, and let out a low growl.

While I focused most of my physical energy on the harness at my legs, I decided to be as efficient as possible, and work on pretty much the only other thing I could, my gag. Like everything else binding me, this was a layered affair. Between the boxer briefs earlier, and the thick bandanna gag, and the thick pallet wrap ball lodged in my mouth, there was essentially no chance to get my tongue, or any spit at the sticky stuff. This would just be wiggling my lips, and tugging as much as my already strained jaw allowed. Luckily, even without saliva, I was sweating onto the tape! ...Because of the growing levels of summer heat in the stuffy room, and my physical exertion, yes, but again; silver linings.

I worked myself into almost a trance-like frenzy, going over and over the same tasks like a madman. What’s that quote about doing the same thing over and over, and being insane? Some dumby probably wrote it, because I knew that I had to keep up with these repetitive struggles and wiggles if I had ANY chance of escaping. Finally I worked coil of my ankle ropes down to the wide point of my right heel, and yipped a bit in excitement. I know, a monumental achievement, right?

Finally with some headway, I rested, and breathed deeply through the now sweat stained beanie which partially covered my only unsealed airway, but only for a moment. I gently, tenderly lifted my feet off the mattress, stretched them forward as much as possible, and brought it back down, before pulling my legs back towards me and repeating the process. I was going to try to roll the coil of rope off of my heel using the mattress as a point of friction. I had to take it slow, and be careful though; if the rope brushed against the mattress while I was stretching my leg forward, it would almost certainly slide off my heel and back around my ankles, leaving me a square one again.

Meanwhile, I had made some progress my lips away from the tape. Much of the gag was still plastered to my stubble, cheeks, chin, jaw, etc, but at least one part of my mouth had some autonomy now, something virtually no other body part could boast. But I knew I couldn’t wiggle my cheeks, jaw or chin like I did my lips; I would have to find some other way to use them if I were to make any headway. I tried using them to compress the cleave gag resting on my teeth, even pushed at my ball gag, trying to rotate it up or down, seeing if that could pull the bandanna, but no dice.

I tried a different approach, one that I liked a good deal less. Since the ball gag was keeping the bandanna taught, and harder to maneuver, why not pull back on it as much as possible? So I did just that, and grunted, yet again. I got my tongue, which had been pressing up on the back of the ballgag till now, underneath it, which instantly loosened the nylon chords that held the ball, and let it drop deeper into my mouth. I sighed as I began the work of tunneling my tongue deeper, under the gag and to the front of it, where I applied as much pressure as I could to pull it deeper in. I practically gagged on the....gag (Ok, English is limited here, how else am I supposed to say it?) but could feel the bandanna relax ever so slightly. I worked at it with my lips, and felt it ever so slowly bunching up, and pulling away from my teeth. This could work!

This went on for several minutes, maybe an hour or more, with me grunting, sighing, and “MMPH!”ing like a crazy person, working tirelessly at these repetitive, near hopeless tasks...but I did it! I got the rope around my ankles off...well mostly. It was now dangled somewhat loosely around the soles of my feet. I would need a bit more slack to get it completely off, and it NEEDED to get completely off. Not even because the whole escape depended on me getting out of these ropes, no. My PRIDE demanded that this impudent coil that had troubled me so much be dealt with severely! To that end, I needed to do essentially what I had done with the ballgag; tighten one bond to make some slack for another.

Using my heels, I dug into my bed, and pushed myself backwards as much as I physically could, significantly tightening the harness at my chest, and tightening it at every level other than my feet. I kicked up, and pushed my legs forward repeatedly, tossing the loose coils towards my toes, making good progress of short ‘hops’ of the rope. Until the rope got stuck near my big toes. What? With this much slack it should have cleared my...toes. My TIED toes.

The rope had rested on the knot of the rough twine, and stuck there. No...I refused to allow my bound TOES to be the roadblock to my freedom! I sweared to God and my ancestors that it would not be so, and with an inhuman growl of frustration, kicked up and forward as hard as I could...

[mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention] [mention]bondagefreak[/mention]

With a 'to be continued' like this, I should attach a file linking yall to 'roundabout'. (You're a nerd if you understand that)
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Post by tieddude »

Great story so far! Love the style.
Mmmph
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Post by bondagefreak »

SkinnySnorlax wrote: 4 years ago I would need a bit more slack to get it completely off, and it NEEDED to get completely off. Not even because the whole escape depended on me getting out of these ropes, no. My PRIDE demanded that this impudent coil that had troubled me so much be dealt with severely!
Haha! This bit made me smile.
The impudence of the coil just had to be dealt with ;)
Smart writing, mate.

Anders' struggle is palpable in these latest scenes.
Very intense. Felt like I was there with him, sitting across the room and watching his "progress".
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention]
Glad you enjoyed it boss! And I bet you would have enjoyed it even more if you WERE sitting across, watching him struggle, haha. Was honestly curious to see your reaction, considering the fact that people escaping even part of their bonds doesn't seem to be something you have seen firsthand in a while ;)
But on a serious note, I wonder if one of the reasons that resonated with you is because you're a dom, and an alpha. Ders is based very much on me, and I lean strongly in that direction as well. On the occasions where I did let a buddy tie me up, (someone who I respected.) I didn't just try to get loose; I attacked the rope, metaphorically speaking. I wonder if dom types are motivated more by pride, and subs more by fear, or frustration, or...doing what they're told, haha.
Thanks for the feedback as usual, sir.
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Post by Deleted User 5033 »

Bonus

Jon leaned his hand on the dirt rake he had been using, and took a breather. He had been tilling and planting in the whole front garden of the college for a good three and a half hours, getting it nice and presentable for when the next semester rolled around. Sweat had rolled down his whole body in glistening pearls, and particularly into his eyes. He almost regretted how he had used his bandanna. Almost.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and opened up his gallery, smiling peacefully as he did. Before he had left Anders, Jon snuck in a pic, since there was just enough light. Jon found the shiny, trussed up package, lit by the red light of the rising sun rather artistic, if he did say so himself. And he did.

He sent a quick text to Hakim, their neighbor, who should be getting up about now. “Hey, could you get to work doing research for that group project? I left my book in your room. Don’t mind my roommate if you hear some grunting, or stuff rattling around a bit, said he was doing some kinda new workout?” That should ensure Hakim stayed in his room, but didn’t get too suspicious. Hakim was a good student, but not particularly curious, or motivated, so Jon had no reason to believe he would be checking up on the captive. “K” was all the response he got back.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he chuckled, and got back to work. He was a strong man, with a lot of endurance, and a hard worker. He liked the exertion, and the simple honesty of working with your hands. But most of all, Jon liked how work cleared his head, and helped him think clearly. Like about Ders, for instance.

‘My viking captive…’ he thought to himself. “How much progress can you make.” He then mused to himself out loud. He then chuckled. ‘If any.’ He knew that Ders was the night owl, and had usually only just gotten up by 12 when Jon got off work. He would be way off balance, and with that beanie keeping him toasty and insulated from the light, he wouldn’t be surprised if Ders slept the whole way through his shift!

‘Then again, he is a stubborn fella…’ He was legitimately excited to see just how much progress Anders could make. Truth be told, he liked it when the tall, muscled Nord struggled, got so close to freedom, but failed, due to some time limit or sheer exhaustion. What he had never experienced, however, was Anders simply give up. At this thought, he smirked. He wanted Anders to fight hard, and give it his all...and lose.
He wriggled around his toes in his damp boot socks, visualizing a few ways the tools might be useful. ‘Only if he doesn’t escape before your shift ends.’ He thought unconsciously. His eyes widened slightly, and his work pace slowed down, but never stopped. Was there a chance that Ders would get fully loose? From THAT tie? No...impossible. Right?

The thought, or more specifically, that vacuous uncertainty around the thought of Ders’ escape, excited him. The thought of such a worthy opponent filled him with a renewed strength, and he increased his already impressive work speed. On some level, it felt right to give it his all, as he felt certain Anders would be doing.

Plus, in the likely event Ders didn’t escape, the extra sweat in the socks could be useful for...something.

***

Just a bonus while I finalize future chapters. Though, in all honestly, I just kinda started missing writing Jon. Hopefully this whets a few palettes. [mention]bondagefreak[/mention] [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention]
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Post by DeeperThanRed »

It's always nice seeing more of Jon, he's a very charming fellow. Easy to see why Anders is so fond of him.

Also, I really liked the small things Jon uses to tease his victim further, like sending someone who can't find him. And that comment about socks.

Great chapter that shows you don't need constant action in a good story.
25-year-old bondage enthusiast who likes cute guys, underwear, and bondage, preferably together.

You can reach my list of written work here: https://www.tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?p=38808#p38808
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Post by cj2125 »

Love this story! The description of bondage is amazing and I love reading Ander's inner monolgue! Even though not much happens plotwise, is nice to see an entertaining description of what Ander's goes through while stuck :D
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