A Lad in Distress (M/M) - Endless Plight - Complete - November 27th

Stories that have little truth to them should go here.
Bondwriter
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]Bradstick[/mention] I hope these homely chapters help discover the characters better.
[mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] Read and you'll find out!
[mention]Jb99[/mention] Thanks! The wait is over.
[mention]privateandrews[/mention] Peace and quiet are required with all this creative activity going on.

Thanks for commenting, guys, and enjoy this installment!

6. The Underground Dungeon


Shaun left Ted and Bill torment the surfer boys; he took the elevator to the lowest floor, which required a key to keep visitors away from TJ. The doors opened on a hall with a door in front. Shaun typed in the code on a pad, triggering the opening mechanism; he entered TJ’s lair, a large space with a cross, spanking benches, and a crossbar frame that allowed all sorts of suspension predicaments.

At the back, a large, heavy oak door led to TJ’s living quarters: a kitchen and living space, a large bedroom, and a bathroom. Shaun heard noise on his right coming from the cells where TJ’s guests stayed when he wasn’t having fun with them in the main dungeon. Bodies were moving—he couldn’t miss the nylon’s swishing sound—and TJ’s metallic voice.

“You’re luckier than your caged friend, my little pups. I want to try out some gear to protect a young man’s ass, and you won’t get bored spending all day like this.”

“That’s so kind of you, TJ,” Shaun said. “Did our young guests enjoy their night?”

What the cell featured deeply satisfied Shaun. Three sexy young men were tightly restrained in thick leather harnesses: Marty lay tightly hogtied on a cot, Sean sat strapped to an armchair, and Josh stood upright in a gibbet cage. TJ had removed the Marty’s and Sean’s hoods, allowing them to see and hear. The new recruit, strongly harnessed and dangling in his cage, had his skull still wrapped in leather.

“Overall, they’ve behaved, boss. The way you delivered them, the challenge was mild. The newbie tried to give me a hard time when I put him in clean clothes, but you know how persuasive I am: it didn’t last long. Doesn’t he look precious?”

The shiny purple Lycra covered Josh from his neck to the very top of his thighs, arms included. It hugged him tightly, and a single boot wrapped his legs up to his knees. Josh’s soft, milky thighs attracted Shaun’s eyes. He moved around the cage to see the boy’s plump bottom. The two globes pushed the gleaming fabric, enhancing their roundness. Josh’s bound hands pressed against his crack: TJ had used a purple single glove. The satiny fabric and its colour made its cruel effectiveness less obvious, but it was a fitting punishment for the scoundrel’s attempt at stealing Zach.

“He’ll be a nice addition to our stable. Once you’ve tamed him, we’ll have Ted and Bill launch his acting career.”

The two men discussed plans for the henchmen while Sean and Marty kept very still and quiet to avoid attracting unwanted attention. They heard of the other boys’ distress, which didn’t cheer them up after a night in bondage and TJ’s taunts waking them up.

The vicious guard had played his mind trick on Josh, delivering a two-hour lecture the night before. In his monotone and emotionless voice, he explained how pain was a great way to motivate and the various ordeals he thought best to castigate unruly captives. Marty knew it was an act; he’d been given the same speech, and TJ had never flayed him, although the man’s talk of skinning off victims had sounded credible. Marty could pick up TJ’s amusement when uttering his worst horrors; they triggered gagged protests from their new, unlucky companion.

“Can I give you a hand with your experiment?” Shaun offered after ten minutes of chitchat with TJ. He insisted on the learning quality of sensory deprivation.

“These two had a good night’s sleep. They might prove feistier than usual, so your help is welcome, boss.”

“I’ll set up a camera. We don’t have enough videos of our two guests. And you might use them for further analysis; I like your scientific approach.”

Sean and Marty knew their hosts; Shaun loved motivating his goons and made sure he got them in the proper mindset before enacting a punishment. When the devious director helped his hands, they had a hard time afterwards.

TJ had trained the two lads long enough so they’d obey him; Shaun’s help made the task quicker anyway. Sean wore a red onesie or singlet, but with long sleeves, such as Josh’s purple one, and Marty a bright yellow one. These suits made for poor camouflage if the prisoners managed to escape the dungeon and run away through the moors. They fit their wearers and made them look good, so they stayed on, while the leather harnesses were removed, and the boys got strapped to the spanking benches.

The two large trestles were made of cast iron, with holes drilled at several places to fix a lock or thread a rope. TJ wanted a change from the harnesses, so they used rope. The boys, their hands bound at the small of their backs, were led to the trestles one by one, their legs spread and bound to the trestle’s legs. TJ linked their collars to the front legs, keeping the victims folded in two at the waist.

The spanking benches had pulleys above them, and a remote-controlled winch allowed bringing a rope down, a large carabiner dangling at its end.

“A strappado will keep your arms out of the way for the first paddling, Marty. It will also make your stay at the bench uncomfortable, but this is what happens to disobedient prisoners.”

“Escaping is worse than misbehaving!” Shaun indignantly added. TJ snapped the carabiner, catching the rope binding Marty’s wrists in the metal buckle; a push on a button got the carabiner up again. Thankfully, it stopped before Marty hurt, but he was stretched taut nonetheless and knew it would soon make him feel sore.

“True. See, Marty, now the boss is mad. I won’t go easy on you. I’ll start with the breadboard; think about it while we prepare your fellow-student.”

Sean was put in the same dire predicament; his hands pulled upwards were the cherry on top of the sadist’s cake.

“Marty’s ass is round, but Sean’s has the oil drops. They’re still fleshy and supple,” TJ said. “I’ll get my first experiment with the singlets and the breadboard. I’ll set up a camera, unless you want to document the whole thing?”

“Please do, I’ll let you handle the first stage. I’ll go check on Josh; I’ve got things to tell him.” Shaun had socialized enough; he’d come down here to have a talk with his rookie captive.

The first whack meant the thin wood board had crashed against a bottom; the muffled scream that followed was Marty’s.

Shaun went to the switch in the wall that lowered Josh’s cage. The boy had to be able to hear him, and he needed to remove the hood too; he wouldn’t mind seeing rage or fear in Josh’s eyes. The cage was sophisticated: the front opened thanks to discreet hinges at the side. It was split in three parts: one for the head, one for the torso, and one for the legs.

Shaun unscrewed the fixture locking the top part, a network of thin metal strips running between steel circles going from his forehead to his feet. Shaun was reminded of a fencing mask, though the spaces between the strips allowed seeing underneath better.

Josh quivered; he was aware someone close by was messing with the cage. The slender fingers unbuckled his discipline helmet’s straps. The loosening relieved Josh, but then his hair got pulled as the man in front removed the leather out of the cage. The dim light made him blink for a few seconds before he saw Shaun’s snarling face. The man reached for Josh’s ears and removed the foam rubber plugs cutting him out from the world. The tape and the socks of unknown origins keeping him silent didn’t seem to bother his handler, whose coveting looks ran up and down the encaged shape.

“You’re not getting out. I just wanted a little chat. I need to keep you informed. After all, you’re going to join my household, and I welcome nice-looking guys who enjoy bondage. I was glad to have your friend Zach come and work with me. He’s an eager player and he’s got poise; he really shines in all the videos we shot. He’s got many talents, too. His scripts are promising!”

Shaun kept singing Zach’s praise, stressing his devotion to art and his will to see projects to completion.


TBC
Bradstick
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Post by Bradstick »

Fantastic chapter! I loved TJ introduction to the series, I have feeling we will be seeing more of him. I much as I love Zack, I’m quite excited to see what happens with Josh and the others. Will Ted and Bill be filming 5 young men rather than 2? If so, then TJ may need to help Ted and Bill, as with 5 subs, mistakes can be easier to miss with only two people keeping them bound. Can’t wait for the next!
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]Bradstick[/mention] The staff number is indeed an issue with more prisoners. How can the abductors handle all these captives? Thanks for commenting on the story, it's always motivating to have thorough readers!
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Post by cstone5725@gmail.com »

Oh thanks for the new chapter ,as alwats great and alwats keeping us in suspence now waiting fof the next. Hope plenty of ropes are used to bind the captuves up for a lonv time .

Wrists behind and welll gaggwd he he

Thanks its a joy to read , more ideas for tge tops who tie me lol
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] Thanks for the appreciative comment. Here is your weekly fix, and have fun. Just adapt these ideas, they weren't tried for safety! ;D

7. Offers that Can’t Be Refused

“You must be wondering what Zach’s performance has to do with you,” Shaun told Josh. “I’m going to offer you a similar position. You’ll train with experienced professionals, and you’ll have outlets for your talents. But before you aspire to join our exclusive program, we’ve got a little matter to settle: your break-in. I’m not a big fan of intruders, especially when they annoy my guests. I worked hard to get Zach in the proper mindset for a new movie, and now we’ve got to delay the shooting to ensure he gets back into the role. You fit the requirements to become part of our studio, but you’ll have to undergo the same training as your friend did before you’re skilled enough to play parts in Ted and Bill’s short videos, let alone costar with your buddy. But we have plenty of time!”

Josh mewled in his gag, begging to be granted the right to speak.

“The tape and socks will be your meal until this evening. I’ve given you enough food for thought, Josh. Now it’s time you get back to your punishment and think hard on your mistakes. TJ had you well hooded, so let’s get it back on.”

Shaun opened the middle part of the cage’s front. He loosened the straps pinning Josh to the back and tilted him forward. He stepped on a stool and slid earplugs to deafen the boy and slid the hood over the unencumbered head. It wasn’t made to measure, but TJ had selected one that matched the new guest’s measurements. He tightened the lace carefully, adjusting the dark brown leather layer so it encased skull and jaws fully. Only Josh’s nose remained visible when Shaun was done.

He pushed him back inside the cage and tightened the straps before closing down the front. The punished guest was surrounded by circles and strips of metal. His limbs were savagely united thanks to the single glove and boot. Shaun locked the cage and triggered the motor, hauling the contraption and its guest three feet above ground; he cast a last look to the fine ass and cock in display.

TJ’s ‘experiment’ with Sean and Marty caught the evil director’s attention again as he turned around. The dungeon master had switched to a rubber strip, which was reminiscent of a tawse. The sharp, cracking sounds tested the silencing powers of the boys’ gags. Their nasal moans were high-pitched and turned into long wails. It was too loud for Shaun.

“So, how’s your experiment going, TJ? They make lots of noise; don’t you think we should use more muffling wads and Gwen hoods to lock their jaws?”

“Of course, boss. I need to change their clothes after I’m done with Sean; I’d love you to hang out and help. You’re the gag master, after all.”

Used to TJ’s praise, Shaun didn’t reply and just watched how the boys’ buttocks reacted to the thick slat of rubber. He counted forty-two whacks before TJ stopped.

The tormentors removed the restraints temporarily to get rid of the singlets. Sean and Marty displayed their bare bottoms, giving them only a brief relief from their exacting predicament before their bum stuck upwards again.

Shaun oversaw TJ’s filming. The man had a knack for framing interesting body parts, but Shaun always had advice to give, which his goons enjoyed. The inflamed skin was shot from all angles.

“Their ass cheeks turned crimson. It’ll be a while before I can run another experiment,” TJ observed. “In the meantime, they can get some relief. And we should make them decent; you don’t want your guests to walk around in the buff.”

Shaun knew TJ well enough to detect a faint smile on his face, which his tone didn’t betray.

“No,” he concurred. “We’ve got to have properly dressed guests. This isn’t a perverts’ lair.”

None of the captives dared grunt through their plug gags. The devious landlord would make their life even more miserable if they reacted to his hypocrisy. TJ and Shaun had willing models to work with. Their arms were lowered again before their legs got released and satiny boxing shorts slid up. Sean shivered as the silky nylon caressed his butt, still warm and stinging from the whacking.

“We didn’t check if they’d sprouted a boner, but look, Sean likes being reminded his ass is red and hot.”

The ginger boy tented the dark green fabric, its high sheen making the slightest erection immediately visible.

“I’ve seen this often. This one,” TJ said looking at Marty, “gets a hard-on when spanked, but Sean doesn’t. He’s really hard when in contact with a friend—he’s a helpless, horny gay boy. But I can punish him by whipping his behind.”

“I’ll help with the scientific approach: let’s see who gets hard from being hooded!”

The prisoners braced for what was to come, almost regretting the big leather plugs filling their mouths already. Shaun got the gear ready on a small table, ready to enjoy another great gagging.

“You’ve deserved my attention, gentlemen. I’m going to assist my good friend TJ in making sure you are undisturbed for your penance and that you won’t bother him with unwanted noise. You know the drill, boys! We’ll even get you a gulp of water if you behave.”

“You’re really kind, Shaun,” TJ said, avoiding his more usual ‘boss,’ which wasn’t the preferred denomination in the presence of guests.

“This’ll save you time this evening. They then can go with the same gag until tomorrow morning.”

TJ left the room for his quarters, where he got a glass of water and the boys’ undies that he’d collected the night before.

“For their mouths,” he said, waving the skimpy nylon briefs, his nostrils flaring as if he was experiencing a fine, rare perfume. He handed them to Shaun and turned to his boss’s homophone.

Sean fought his urge to insult the two perverts, welcoming the prospect of water. TJ unbuckled his gag and pulled it out, and Sean stretched his jaws to let the intruding out.

Shaun brought the plastic tumbler to Sean’s lips and let him swallow its whole content.

“The boy was thirsty; I’ll get him another glass.”

TJ place his gloved hand over the gaping lips to comply with Shaun’s requirement that captives remain gagged at all times. Sean was boiling, yet the power these men had overwhelmed him. He obediently drank the second quart of water he was offered and didn’t fight the long, meticulous packing of his mouth; Marty’s underwear and two ankle socks—one of them his—ended up into his mouth. His jaws were slightly open, his cheeks bulging, his tongue compressed at its bottom.

TJ renewed his handgag while Shaun prepared a rectangle of Elastoplast, the five-inch-wide strapping tape he loved to seal lips with. The formidable adhesive effectively glued mouths and was waterproof, so less likely to be removed by an unrelenting tongue.

TJ removed his hand, pinching Sean’s lips between his thumb and index finger. He slid them away just when the tape was about to reach them. Shaun plastered the piece of tape all the way to just under his captive’s ears.

“TJ had you try out the nice singlets, but they come with matching hoods.”

Shaun displayed the dangling piece of thick, bright red satin.

“It looks mild, but the canvas and leather straps inside make a tight harness once fastened. It comes from my favourite supplier, Brightwell & Comfort. They got the best gear, and they’ve crafted your leather harness and most of the hoods we’ve blessed you with.”

He picked earplugs.

“You shouldn’t be disturbed by outside noise for at least twelve hours.”

He inserted the rolled down rubber foam, which slowly expanded, cutting Sean off from the outside world. The red hood followed. The design was devilish indeed, with slits in the satin to let silky ribbons out, some ending with a thin red plastic buckle.

Though the visible part looked thin, it was sewn onto much thicker canvas; once the zipper slid from his head’s crown to his neck’s lower end, the tailor-made device imposed a strong grip. Once Shaun fastened and buckled the straps, Sean’s jaws closed on the huge packing. The prisoner felt like he no longer had a mouth, and any noise was minimal. The crammed stuffing even promised to make an attempt at shouting hurt.

“Doesn’t he look handsome?” Shaun asked TJ.

“He’s a pretty boy, that’s for sure. The hood looks great. Can I put Marty’s on?”

“Of course.”

Marty had been wearing Gwen hoods for most of his stay in Shaun’s claws. Plus, there was no mirror to check what it looked like, so he wasn’t so eager for the change.

He took the glass of water obediently and let TJ squeeze Sean’s nylon briefs and two socks. Shaun took care of the mouth’s plastering, the nasty surgical tape promising discomfort as it approached his face. The strong plastic smell reminded Marty of the many gags they’d used on him, all worn for long periods, itching after a while and hurting like hell when one of the four maniacs handling him pulled it off violently. TJ slid the earplugs in, preventing the boy from hearing his foes talk.

A yellow piece of satin passed in front of Marty’s eyes, and the hood settled on his skull. TJ looked from all angles, tucking the fabric to achieve perfect symmetry. Knowing Shaun was close by, TJ made the most of the high-end accessory.

The straps were cleverly laid out: they reinforced the pressure on the jaws and ensnared the head, reminding the wearer of his helplessness at all times.

“Another fine hood,” TJ commented. “Easy to put on, but a tight fit nonetheless.”

TBC
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Post by Bradstick »

Fantastic chapter! I am loving this series! I love how Josh was completely unaware of the spanking the two boys were receiving only little distance away. Keep up the great work!
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]Bradstick[/mention] Reading your The Unwilling Mannequin story, which is very good by the way, I may imagine which aspects of the story you enjoy. I hope further misadventures will be to your taste!
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Post by cstone5725@gmail.com »

As always onw of my favorite stories on here along with the long journey .

Mmm great with josh now knowing he will be trained in tight bondage as punishment and all thd lads will be kept well secure.

Thxs keep up tge great work
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[mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] Thanks for the comment, and keeping the story on the first page!
Here is the continuation, I hope you enjoy it.

8. The Captive Prince



“We give our boys only the best,” Shaun snarled. “Sean and Marty have the most elegant hoods. Yellow and red are a great match.”

“Ketchup and mustard,” TJ nicknamed the boys in his deadpan tone.

“So, if you’ve got to interrupt your experiment in ass paddling, what are you going to do with these two today?”

“They’re still under punishment for escaping, so I’ll blindfold and leave them strapped to the benches. I’ll lower their arms—we don’t want an accident—and I will bind them differently for the afternoon. I think half an hour hanging by his feet will do Marty good.”

The two fiends went on discussing potential predicaments. Shaun eventually decided to take leave. It was mid-morning already, and he wondered how his favourite prisoner, Prince Abooboo, was doing. He climbed back to the top floor, typing in codes as he went back to his intimate, protected space—where he had stored Zach.

He found his guest as he’d left him. Shaun stopped the movie and slid on the bed close enough to remove the silk covering the prince’s head. He undid the blindfold and smiled at the prince, whose eyelashes fluttered as if waking up from a long, happy bondage dream.

“Missed me? I know, I’m a bad master, not really punishing you like your friends hanging in full sensory deprivation. Don’t worry, the blindfold will be back, and I’ll stuff your ears too for your next bout. I’m going to keep you imprisoned in tight silk; I ordered more outfits for your stay in my quarters. We’re far from done with you after that uprising, and you’ll get more of my benevolent care. Your friends, on the other hand, will likely be put in a world of silence and darkness.”

Zach’s tie-up, which was designed to be long-term, wasn’t the worst one he’d experienced. He’d dozed off, or floated at least, until Shaun’s naughty grin and taunts brought him back down.

“I’ll blindfold you and plug your ears for up to eight hours before I come back. Then you might have a sip of water, who knows? Just think of how it would be to spend days, even weeks as my captive, swathed and clad in the finest silks, turned into a doll wrapped in ribbons and scarves, with lingerie and all sorts of clever, restraining gear! If you want me to forgive you for your escape attempt, you will have to prove your worth.”

Shaun was done explaining; he slid thin pieces of rolled ribbon silk inside Zach’s ears and added tape to keep them in. He used the initial blindfold folded in two instead of four and wrapped Zach’s head from his forehead to his chin.

The five following days confirmed Shaun had told Zach the truth. One day was spent trussed to a bed poster, a classic position that allowed much tormenting. The next day, Zach hung under the bed; Shaun removed the mattress for the trussing up, the captive being hauled up with ropes through the gaps between the slats. Thankfully, he was held in a bag with pouches for his arms kept down his sides. His legs were tightly tied together too. And the two scarves keeping the packing in had been topped with a white silk hood, which highlighted Zach’s fine features.

The next day, the young man visited a closet that stood in a recess at the back of the room. Bound standing and wrapped in silk, he was hot and sweaty after a few hours. Although the door wasn’t airtight, he felt breathing was more difficult as the day went by. The big silk ball, which Shaun had anointed with his seed before cramming it in his captive’s mouth, and the many silk bands and scarves that covered it didn’t make his stay inside the crammed space any more comfortable.

Thankfully, Shaun enjoyed playing with his toy, and he got him out of the closet for a couple hours to change his underwear and gag before sticking him back for an untold duration, left to his anguish and hard-thinking.

Day four saw Zach spread-eagled on the bed, his limbs held by ropes at all joints, and his head mummified in silk. The four-inch wide ribbons applied on his skin had one side coated with gummy material that made it stick. This new gizmo had saved Zach a couple hours in the unrelenting spread-eagle, Shaun using winches to make it really tight. But he’d played with them before.

The silk tape was new. He filmed the whole thing while Zach sat on a stool, his arms in a silk single glove. Shaun had prepared by looking at books, vintage bondage art, and even contemporary enthusiasts who used similar material. He had a 3D model of Zach’s head made to check what was possible. Applying his new knowledge, Shaun got many shots of Zach, the top of his cheeks bulging, his eyes fluttering, and his nostrils flaring. The rest of his head was covered with shiny silk: blue, white, red, green, black—Shaun tried them all.

The fifth day, the imprisoned prince spent the morning hogtied on the carpet and the afternoon ball-tied on the bed. The long, strenuous silk bondage alternated with costume changes: Shaun tried all sorts of devious bloomers and multilayered setups that trapped the young man’s genitals within gliding fabric. Some had holes to pull the cock and balls through, imprisoning the shaft in a gliding sheath that a fingertip’s soft caress could take over the edge. Once a drop came through the coatings, the severe master stopped and got Zach back into his excruciating predicament, adding a long silk band to make it more memorable.

The routine changed on the sixth day. Shaun had Zach out of the long and dull tie-ups. He walked him to a room on the same floor, blindfolded this time. The boy recovered his sight and identified the contraptions that made it a gym: a rower and an indoors bike with all the fixtures required by Shaun’s malevolent intent.

The devices were adapted to trap their user into exercise. They required special gloves and shoes, but Shaun took his time before having Zach spend energy on the machines. He fed his charge a large plate of warm pasta and a baby bottle of apple sauce.

The princely treatment revived Zach and fuelled his next four hours locked to the exercise bike. The gloves had plates covering the wearer’s palm with a thin metal bar on the outside; they fit to grooves on the handle that locked when the hand made contact and required a key to remove.

He wore white bloomers made of seven layers of thin satiny silk arranged to maximize the gliding, slippery effect. A white silk shirt hugged him from neck to navel and enhanced his shoulders. The black kid leather gloves coming up past his elbows made for a pleasant contrast to Shaun’s eye. Seeing the youthful body writhe on the saddle as he got the wheel turning got the director awestruck.

He filmed his model lovingly for the next hour, changing the saddle’s and handlebar’s height to get different muscles to work. Zach felt life coming back to his limbs; he was also quickly tired, but his supervisor didn’t let him dawdle. The bike had a screen displaying miles ridden, and Shaun intended to reach fifty.

The close watch wasn’t the only motivation: Zach’s kinky underwear also brought a pleasant stimulation to his aroused member. Though he never managed to orgasm, he was hard constantly, and his cock’s tip was surrounded with slimy dampness.

Shaun took him down the bike after three hours. He cuffed Zach’s wrists and ankles and fed him baby bottles of porridge and fruit juice. They moved to the adjacent bathroom, where the silk-clad prince’s handler stripped him off, had him relieve himself, showered him, and got him dry so he could do what he liked most: playing doll with a beautiful young man.

The next pair of underwear was as fancy as the previous one, but the cut and the sophisticated design aimed at getting Zach’s shaft brushing against his stomach. They also lifted his balls so they wouldn’t get stuck between his thighs. He realized the benefit as Shaun locked him to the rowing machine.

He had to row for four hours, with Shaun disappearing at times after having set quantitative targets that made slacking off impossible. The afternoon of rowing left Zach exhausted and made him sweat out all the liquid input he’d been mercifully granted at lunch.

At least, inflicting hunger was not on the agenda. Zach got another meal: some mush that tasted like puréed meat and potatoes. His keeper pampered him in the bathroom, having him undress and refresh before donning clean clothes—silk pajamas—for the night. Shaun brought him back to the bedroom, where he mummified him on the bed like the first night he’d taken him to these princely quarters.

The days went on. Shaun spoke mainly of Zach and the projects he had for him. Occasionally, the director gave news about the other captives, always mentioning that Josh was doing fine. The exercise sessions had more breaks, with Shaun overseeing more intense periods, though never over one hour and a half.

Zach was fed at regular intervals with quantities matching his bodily requirements and activities. The relative material comfort, Shaun’s mild manners, and the knowledge his friends were doing fine got Zach through the captivity with less anxiety. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang of anguish, wondering about Josh, and having doubts about Shaun’s trustworthiness.

TBC
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Post by cstone5725@gmail.com »

Oh oh wow such detail i love it. The 5 dats of different restraints and the detail made this chapter the best yet . Poor lad loll

Cant wait to hear what happened for the five days with josh and the others to catch up .

Gagged tight and tied well i hope no choice he he

Great work thxs
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Post by KidBlink »

Oh! Yay, forced workouts!

I can't wait to read what it will be like when Zach and Josh meet again
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Post by Bradstick »

Great chapter, I loved the all the different bondage positions Zach had to endure. Can’t wait to see what the other endured while Zack had his 6 days of bondage.

Also the whole exercise bondage was super hot and I loved that!
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] Glad you liked this chapter. It's a nice week of fun for Zach, isn't it? Nice outfits too.
[mention]KidBlink[/mention] Bondage exercise is hot, as long as performed so the participants may safely be stored away afterwards.
[mention]Bradstick[/mention]
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Post by cstone5725@gmail.com »

Yes totaly agree after exercise cleaned up new clothing snd put away tightky in storage no choice .

Very secure and mppphhh
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Post by KidBlink »

[mention]Bondwriter[/mention]

Naturally. Storage is VERY important.
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]KidBlink[/mention] [mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] [mention]Bradstick[/mention]
Here you go, people, a new chapter is up.

9. Getting Josh Up to Speed


Zach’s fear about his friends was unjustified: the abductors had no intention of harming their precious merchandise. TJ, Ted, and Bill had as much desire to keep Shaun’s enterprise going as the chief officer himself. The first five days were harsh on the recaptured guests, the two surfers, and the meddling bartender. Even though they weren’t aware, the five young men were closely monitored to prevent health hazards.

Josh was thrown in at the deep end—metaphorically of course, considering Shaun’s liking for a drowning character. He spent his first three days in the gibbet cage, taken out once a day only for hygiene and feeding purposes. TJ remained emotionless throughout, and the captured boy mulled over Shaun’s words and the prospect of a long, eventful captivity.

For the next two days, Josh was taken out of the gibbet cage during the day. He was Gwen-hooded, as were Sean and Marty, all wearing their matching singlets, and spent hours bound to a pole on a platform. He could see and hear; TJ was glad to perform for his audience. He’d put soothing cream all over his charges’ reddened buttocks held in pull-up diapers for the night

Sean’s and Marty’s bottoms were still bright pink, which TJ documented with his video camera. He kept a colour scale next to them to remain consistent with his approach.

Josh watched his guard slid sexy, tight, and hugging Speedos up the two unfortunate prisoners’ legs before he added satiny shorts.

“These old-school soccer shorts are much thicker than what you’ve worn so far. With swimwear underneath, my hypothesis is you’re better protected and your asses should be red, not turn crimson.”

Sean and Marty pleaded and complained with gagged moans, which left the strict disciplinarian cold. He started with a ping-pong bat. Josh wondered about the man’s sexual orientation. He didn’t betray any feelings towards his charges, positive or negative. He treated them like cattle—like objects, even. He didn’t ogle the bums and didn’t touch the young men unless he restrained them.

He evenly delivered the fifty-whack series to both raised asses. After the beating, TJ then freed the two boys’ legs and slid their shorts down mid-thigh to record his experiment’s result. He set his tripod to get the best framing of the spanked young men’s buttocks. They were worthy of the attention: they’d acquired a darker pink hue. He got the shorts back up and cuffed the ankles to the trestle’s legs, so he could go for another series.

“I’ll use the riding crop, mainly to see if welts appear as much with shorts as on bare flesh.”

This time, Josh perceived pain in the gagged grunts that followed the leather crop making contact with the satin-clad bums. The fifty strokes delivered to each recipient came at regular intervals, making the whipping a hypnotizing show for Josh. TJ set the crop down when done. He hurried to unveil the butt cheeks and repeated his data gathering, looking closely at the LCD viewfinder.

The experimental scientist left them to their sorry fate, Sean and Marty folded in two over the trestles, Josh roped to his pole. He disappeared into his quarters, his tripod and camera at hand, probably to analyse his recording. The prisoners traded gagged grunts; Josh hadn’t had much time to get acquainted with Zach’s fellow-prisoners, but having company felt good. Josh felt a pang of shame, realizing he found the two twinks hot, especially outfitted with the kinky singlets, the gloves, and the hoods. Red and yellow. Bright. Shiny. Revealing their shapes and curves.

In the evening, he was put back into the cage in full sensory deprivation. The next three days held similar schedules: Josh would be taken out, bound to the pole or to a wheelchair, and made to watch TJ torment Sean and Marty. On day six, the ruthless guard had performed the data-gathering to assess various fabrics’ protective effect on bums, but he had other projects. TJ wondered how many clothes-pegs could be pinched onto one man’s skin and which areas were the most sensitive; he aimed to find the ultimate pinching zone, one where it would be unbearable.

TJ was creative with the contraptions to restrain his subjects tightly so they wouldn’t move at all when he pinched the pegs on while keeping access to sensitive areas such as the scrotum or the head. Nostrils, ears, short hair, and eyelids were locations of choice to install an uncomfortable clamp.

The spread legs, the raised bottoms, the boners under the Speedos all made the days go by quicker for Josh. He felt aroused all the time. Had Zach been at his sides, he’d have almost liked the situation—as long as TJ made him the audience, not the show.

It was one week after he’d been kidnapped when the routine evolved again. In the morning, TJ prepared his prisoners by feeding, cleaning, and dressing them. He had them wear the cleaned-up singlets and the matching single gloves, boots, and hood. TJ had them in a line with Marty first, Sean second, and Josh last, which had the bright colours going from yellow to purple. After linking them by two feet of chain going from one collar to the next, TJ towed the troop outside the dungeon. Three inches of chain hobbled them, but he led his group accordingly, taking in their hampered walk. They didn’t travel far away.

The underground room they entered was roughly the same size as the dungeon, but it was a gym. There were bikes and walking treadmills. They started with a more modest exercise, though.

In a corner stood a pole; a wheel capped it, mounted on roller bearings. TJ undid the locks and linked their neck chains to the wheel three feet above.

“The landlord wants his guests in shape,” TJ said sternly, “and we’re going to start slow, after all this idle time you had. You’re going to walk around, a fine carousel, until I tell you to stop. Get going!”

Those last words, etched in his memory, triggered Marty into initiating the motion. The boys walked around the pole really close to it, taking small steps and sharing each other’s presence closely.

“I’ll let you go at your own pace. You’ll even get a dashboard to see your progress.”

TJ pressed a button on a remote control, and a screen wedged inside the wall lit up. A dial gave their speed, and a counter had the heading ‘Target.’ TJ fiddled with the remote, and ‘5 miles’ appeared under it. A third counter displayed ‘Speed.’

“It’ll take a few minutes to get the speed right. The target distance will decrease, so I’ll let you smart guys figure out your estimated time of arrival. When I’m back, I’ll see how well you’ve performed. You should get more demanding but realistic targets in future exercises.”

TJ withdrew after his explanations. The captive trio trudged forward, the electronic counter letting them know they were walking at 1.3 miles per hour, which was slow and meant they had a long way to go. They didn’t know whether accelerating was a good idea. Marty deliberately slowed the pace down; he knew TJ and his taste for progress. The lower the baseline, the better.

The coach came back when they started the final tenth of a mile. He stood next to them, his eyes focused on the screen, not saying a word. Once the screen flashed with ‘Target achieved,’ TJ fetched the trolley he’d brought inside: it contained four plastic pouches and items that Sean and Marty identified immediately as feeding gags.

“You reached your destination. You were too slow to my taste, but not slow enough to skip the meal.”

Josh understood the gist of what he meant. TJ undid Josh’s hood, removed the tape and underwear filling his gob, and replaced them with a large transparent rubber oval, like a huge dummy teat with a groove for his teeth. He hung a pouch to the pole. A tube dangled. He inserted it in the rubber piece between Josh’s teeth.

“Suck on it; you’ll get a nice mush to give you strength for your next walk.”

Josh gave it a try. It worked fine; the gag blocked the front of his mouth, but there was enough space to get the sweet mush in his mouth and swallow it comfortably. While he saw the pouch deflate slowly, Sean and Marty were fitted with the feeding gear. They eagerly gulped down the grub.

The guard disappeared again, and his charges slowly emptied the bags of their nourishing porridge. They grunted to each other once done, TJ showing no sign of coming back.

After a long wait, he returned without saying a word and set changing their feeding gags. He applied the tailor-made mouth plugs that were the least uncomfortable when Gwen-hooded—at least from Sean’s and Marty’s point of view: they’d experienced many sorts of packing for endless hours, and the leather or silicone mouth fillers were the most bearable.

Earplugs preceded the passing of the bright satiny hoods that hid their hair, locked their jaws, and made expelling the plugs impossible.

He crouched at Josh’s sides.

“I’ll lengthen your hobbles. Eight links instead of six. You’ll go faster.”

Josh looked at the screen while their trainer programmed it with new targets. Seven miles this time.

“With long chains you should go faster. I expect you to reach 1.7 miles per hour. Ready? Steady?”

He didn’t say ‘go,’ but the finger snap was enough to get the trio moving in a circle, the three teammates checking the counter at every lap. They were slightly above speed: Josh paid close attention to how the others moved their legs, trying to be on step with Marty, who eyed the dial to ensure they were above target, though not too much. TJ would probably have them perform the same ‘walk’ several times in the days or weeks to come; there was no need to set unwanted expectations. Marty focused, aware his fellow-prisoners’ welfare relied on his performance.

TBC
KidBlink
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Post by KidBlink »

Bless Marty and his thoughtfulness
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[mention]KidBlink[/mention] The boys all work hard at pleasing their hosts!

10. In the Limelight


A few floors above, Mark and Paul were also exercising. Ted and Bill had a keen eye for the male body, and after a few days of strict bondage to retaliate for the intrusion, the two esthetes decided to improve their prisoners’ looks.

The first week, they’d devoted only a couple hours to physical activity. Then endurance gave way to sustained efforts such as pull-ups cuffed to a bar above their heads and push-ups or sit-ups while locked to rings in the floor

They got better food, as did the other prisoners. Ted and Bill were interested in learning skills that could be used later in life. In fact, they’d have loved to be personal trainers in a gym. They relished having docile subjects to practice on at Shaun’s. Having complete control meant they could measure the outcomes and check at what speed and after which exercise the proper muscles developed.

Mark and Paul were restrained tightly and heavily muzzled, but at least the unrelenting tie-ups that kept them immobile for the first forty-eight hours now saw more breaks and changes. Recovering sight and hearing had also changed their situation.

They could now trade looks, which boosted their morale. They also discovered Ted and Bill’s online acolytes, which didn’t cheer them up. It explained the hoods and eye masks they wore whenever filmed; their kidnappers kept their identity secret. Ted and Bill had made up various fibs they repeated over and over to their audience. The helpless surfers cursed the time they accepted Shaun’s invite on a dating site. Ted told the online watchers Mark and Paul were trust-fund babies who had been accepted as boarders.

The two goons exposed their guests’ alleged kinks and fetishes for various colours, fabrics, or sex games. The guards rang so sincere that the prisoners’ gagged complaints sounded like thankful praise.

The kidnapped surfers also discovered after their days in sensory deprivation that the online people had gotten well acquainted with them. Unbeknownst to them, Clothes-pegs, strings tied around their balls, and changes in clothing had all been the result of polls and suggestions by the devious kinksters in Ted and Bill’s online community.

Once rid of their earplugs and wearing dark glasses to complement the Gwen hoods protecting their identity, they saw some of the men on the screen even addressed them using microphones. The crew was creative and seemed to know each other. They rivalled in delivering stories featuring Mark and Paul in which the two young men fell in the claws of unsavoury characters who kept them fully incommunicado and delighted in designing predicaments.

As the days went on, the activities became more varied and the members’ participation more intense. Some put Mark and Paul very ill at ease. One curmudgeon123 offered to broadcast his webcam and show his own prisoner. He was bound the same way they were, bound to a pole..

The webcam was straight in front of a boy standing against a concrete post. The white walls surrounding him gave no clue as to the location. The boy wearing a tight tracksuit had been trussed in a secure web of white cotton ropes.

A man, not taller than the trussed-up character, though bulkier, appeared in the frame. He had a balaclava on.

“Meet Tim, Paul and Mark! He’s my neighbour and he enjoys being kept bound and gagged. He’s played with his friends many times, but he says I’m the best knot-tier he knows, so he comes back to stay at my place all the time.”

The boy shook his head, his eyes rolling.

“Considering the risks this day and age, I indulge in his little fancy. He’s safer with his trusted neighbour than with the riffraff he could meet online.”

The shaking head and the gagged moans caught Mark’s and Paul’s attention. Was this pervert really helping his young neighbour? What if Ted and Bill belong to a brotherhood of kidnappers?

The webcam zoomed in on the captive. His looks alerted Mark. He couldn’t be eighteen! The thought made his stomach churn. Happy with his introductions, curmugeon123 cut his webcam feed, and the chat window went to the foreground. The gleeful perverts advised to keep the boy prisoner longer, since he had moved and made too much noise. The man now gloated in chat.

Ted and Bill pulled a request from the long to-do list of suggestions. They removed the boys’ bodysuits to leave them in just a thong, their forearms stuck to each other in a rubber arm binder. Their feet were inserted into a single boot, and they had to hop in circles. The cameras lowered to get the best angles on the genitals going up and down.

“Hop, little bunnies,” S0ckGagL0v3r cheered in the chat. Ted and Bill clapped their hands to give the boys a proper pace. The audience was ecstatic and requested more modelling and action, though of course they still wanted to get a feed of the captives when stored away for the night.

These invisible men ordered fancy clothing to make new scenes possible and the posture and deportment lessons got more frequent. They had to don the garments and accessories delivered for them to the manor. Shoes, boots, socks, and stockings, all sorts of mind-boggling lingerie, pants, shorties and shorts, shirts, gloves, waistcoats, and jackets enhanced the boys’ shapes. Some of Ted and Bill’s patrons were keen on monitoring the lessons.

Mark and Paul had swimmer builds, the former taller and the latter wirier. The manufacturers of the made-to-measure clothes had experience in making models look thinner and frailer. The explicit pouches girding the boys’ loins were more incongruous, which got praise and appreciation from the fans.

“I’d love to have that ass and fine prick to play with,” said BDMasterS3x.

“These little birdies have too much freedom, they should be put back in their cages!” advised SternBinder.

Ted and Bill never took longer than five minutes to reply; Ted was witty and snappy, and he made a big show using people’s ideas to further dominate Paul and Mark. It was a crowdsourced game that had the two lads compete after one week of taxing captivity.

Hooded fully, with only holes for their nostrils, their arms in a reverse prayer stuck between their shoulder blades, three inches of chain hobbling their ankles, the boys were to race together. Ted and Bill designed a course. The winner would become the main protagonist of a milking video; the loser would spend twelve hours in complete sensory deprivation, tightly mummified inside a leather sleep sack.

They would each perform three timed runs through a course with plastic steps half a foot high. They were to step on them while a switch recorded their passing. It would have been a nonissue had they not been wearing high-heeled boots. The kinky black bloomers didn’t hamper their moves, but their footwear did. Three inches of slack between their feet wasn’t enough to climb even small steps; with the tightly laced boots, it became perilous.

The two friends tried their best. When the mikes were off, Ted and Bill lectured them on how to perform. They’d punished them for slow reaction or noncompliance always under the guise of enacting members’ suggestion.

Mark won the race, beating Paul’s best score by one second. The two traded sad looks, the winner unable to enjoy his victory, since it meant his friend’s defeat. Mark was quickly bound to a chair and watched Ted and Bill get Paul into skimpy briefs. They harnessed his torso and slid a tight Lycra body tube from his feet to his neck before lacing him inside the leather sack.

They laid him on a bench and set a pillow to hold his head before strapping the sleep sack to the bench.

“He’s got a leather plug in his mouth. Let’s give him something tastier.” Bill grinned.

He stepped in front of Mark’s chair, silk scarf in hand.

“We’ll start the reward. This will make for a good punishment gag foundation.”

The whole day had brought arousal to Mark, much to his dismay; he couldn’t resist Bill’s wrist for long. He wailed as semen gushed out, Bill squeezing the shaft to get all the liquid out; Paul shouldn’t miss a drop.

Ted and Bill contributed to the scarf’s gooiness off-screen. The gag would be severe, but it was always the highlight of the performers’ narrative.

Paul had a face mask clamped to his lower face and chin. They removed it, careful not to rub the eye mask off, and squeezed the cummy silk ball inside his gob. Ted sealed Paul’s lips shut with tape and Bill filled his ears with wax. The discipline helmet came back on. They used straps to pin his head down, the back held by the pillow’s compressible foam. Immobility was total.

Ted and Bill gathered sex toys to keep on ‘milking’ their cow. The door clicked, and Shaun entered.

“Your guests are having the time of their life, aren’t they?”

“Sure they are. You missed putting young Paul to bed. He’s lost a bet and he’ll spend some time regretting it. Mark’s going to be milked, though, if you want to partake.”

“With pleasure. Everything’s going fine. All our guests are well taken care of, and once we’re done and this one can’t hear us,” Shaun said, pointing to Mark, “we can discuss moving to stage three.”


TBC
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Post by Bondwriter »

11. A Quiet Household


Ted’s hands became more flexible since he’d started working for Shaun. His fingers grew nimbler from practicing card tricks; he had long periods of time to occupy, living at his workplace. His job had him perform what he is the most proficient at: tying knots.

That morning, Josh was getting the benefits from a well-trained henchman: Ted was trussing him up to a chair in the large kitchen. He had planned on using twelve coils of the twenty-foot-long ones. Josh didn’t volunteer, but he didn’t fight when Ted and Bill took him out of his cell earlier. The prisoners had all slept under TJ’s supervision, and they caught some sleep, for once.

It was the first day of household training for Sean and Marty, monitored by Ted and Bill. The two goons felt generous and let Josh watch his peers train to become useful domestic guests.

“I’m not sure we’ve tamed you as we did with the two others,” Ted whispered in his ears as he dragged the shackled captive towards the piece of furniture. Once he had Josh sitting, he restrained the wrists, hands palm-to-palm, the elbows, the shoulders, and then the lower limbs at all joints; Ted didn’t forget the torso, wrapping a belt around the waist and a chest harness to pin his captive to the chair’s back.

Josh eventually had his gag removed. Bill was done feeding Sean and Marty, and he ball-gagged them to change them into their maid costumes.

The trio disappeared in the adjacent room, leaving Ted with his prisoner to feed. He reiterated the warning about remaining silent and brought spoon after spoon of the lukewarm mush to Josh’s lips. Josh knew the threats weren’t idle, and he needed whatever energy the small meal provided.

“Glad you’re settling in. I hope you want to follow Sean and Marty’s example and help out. I’ll have you exercise later on.”

Josh fumed. He believed a rescue party would come; he’d rationalized that people outside Shaun’s mansion knew of the unwilling residents—he found Zach, after all—or that the goons would eventually screw up; the prisoners often spent long periods alone, and if they could release themselves from their bondage, fleeing the doomed place seemed feasible. Until such an opportunity arose, he endured the torments, if only to keep his fellow-prisoners’ morale up.

“I’ll keep you hydrated, and I have a surprise for dessert.”

This didn’t bode well; Josh knew how they liked teasing them. He drank the water and stretched his jaws open when ordered to open up.

“Shaun asked me to gag you with Zach’s underwear. He made sure ‘Abooboo’ soiled his knickers as needed so you get a taste of your boyfriend.”

The underwear felt still wet, its odour telling of man juice. Ted put his hand on Josh’s lips.

“Nice present, right? But it’s not filling enough. What about having one of Mark’s socks to make the packing more worthy of you?”

The sock smelled, but it was an ankle sock made of thin fabric, making the packing serious but bearable.

“Now have one of Paul’s!”

The cute, brown-haired and blue-eyed surfer was also who had the smelliest footwear of their lot. The wadding was now massive, and the apt fingers pushed it all in, packing the cheeks and leaving no space free.

“A cleave gag and a hood, for elegance, and to be sure you don’t have the audacity to ask a question.”

The silk tie Ted used to trap the mass was long enough for two turns, biting at the corners of Josh’s lips. The devious captor tightened the ends until the silk bit into the cheeks. Ted had a look before he continued.

“This should keep you quiet. But silence is one goal, elegance is another one …”

He held the thin leather hood respectfully and gently slipped the gleaming layer over his captive’s forehead. Ted then pulled the mask part and buckled all the discreet straps that make the contraption a welcome addition to the gag underneath, immobilizing the wearer’s jaws further. The slow, relentless lacing turned the contraption into a vice clamping Josh’s skull from all angles.

Ted looked at the outcome, check for visual uniformity from all angles. He’d developed a keener eye filming their captives on behalf of fetishists who had peculiar demands to see details up close, usually curvy man shapes enhanced by clothing or the victim’s frightened eyes above a tight leather mask just like the one he’d just laced. He had a better feel of the tension and effects the accessories created. He used his polishing sponge and a soft wool piece to give the swathed head impressive reflections.

Ted turned to the door, warned by steps and metal fetters clattering. Sean and Marty were resplendent in their male bondage-maid outfits. Their leather shorts were designed to be the focus point; the codpiece-like cut allowed room for their genitals and made them a tantalizing sight for the target audience.

Boots came up to their knees, wrapping their worked-out calves and heels, forcing their instep, the leather showing their roundness. The satiny waistcoats stopped an inch under their rib cages, leaving their belly buttons exposed.

From the back, the shorts displayed their tight cut more obviously; even the single gloves keeping their forearms together, their hands against their cracks, couldn’t conceal the intoxicating plumpness. The top layer was a second skin that highlighted the youthful bodies.

Their heads were also Gwen-hooded, and their eyes darted towards their new friend. Bill was behind the pair.

“Keep looking forward,” he scolded. “I told you to parade for me, not for your hopeless friend. Get to the back of the room. Yes, the wall in front of you. Touch it with your nose and wait without moving. If you behave, we’ll keep your corner time short.”

“They look amazing,” Ted praised, adding ropes around their ankles to make them stay put. “They must be grateful to have sponsors who’re willing to have the best clothing tailor-made for them.”

“I wish they strutted more convincingly. It’s not like we didn’t exercise.”

“It’s all about incentives. Let’s put some stakes to your lesson.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Bill didn’t try to hide how disingenuous he was in stating his concern, which sounded fake and sent Sean’s and Marty’s minds reeling. Their noses touching the white wall, they listened to understand how bad it was going to be. Having things to do appealed to them, if only so that time would flow faster, but if performing chores meant severe punishments for the twenty hours a day they weren’t useful to the household, the activity was less attractive.

“Nothing too harsh. They’re already under strict watch most of the time,” Ted replied, as if reading his captives’ minds. He sounded sincere. “We’ve used the stick often; maybe it’s time for a carrot? There must be a privilege they’d like to see granted.”

“Better food?”

“Why not. What about allowing them to fuck each other? It’s a nice reward for two horny runts like these, and it’ll make a great video for their fans.”

Sean and Marty refrain from grunting in disapproval, none having any interest in becoming a porn star.

“I approve. They’ll have to listen and obey your orders perfectly.”

“True. And even if there’s no penalty, they know I can always make one up if needed.”

The gags muffled the gulps; Sean and Marty knew the sadistic handlers would exploit any flaw in their performance. They listened to Ted and Bill extolling the merits of discipline and wondering about the proper duration of time-outs if they had to intervene on the spot. The maids held on, focusing on immobility and keeping their noses in contact with the partition.

Josh couldn’t take his eyes off the bondage fetish show he had to himself. The two fit boys standing at attention, arms rigidly held behind them, and their heels making their calves muscles stick out—had Josh been in less of a pickle himself, he would have certainly relished the scene without reservation. His gaze attracted his keepers’ attention.

“Our new recruit likes the show,” Ted mocked. “He’s slowly getting it. Maybe we can make something out of him.”

Josh disliked the hunks discussing him, but his dark stare just goaded them in.

“We know he’d love to take part in a sex orgy with Ginger and Gimp. They’ve stayed nose to the wall long enough, and for once, they didn’t squirm. Let’s get them started.”

The staff needed an outfit change: the goons undid the ropes binding their prisoners’ ankles, leaving their legs hobbled by inches of chain. They traded the single gloves for long gloves that covered their elbows and a pair of shiny, stainless-steel manacles, wide bracelets that contrived their motions.

“Your first mission is to move around carrying a tray. For this first lesson you just need to practice walking with the tray in your hands. You’ll bring glasses from the table to the rack next to the sink. There are six of them. You’ll start bringing them one by one, the two by two …”

“And three by three,” Bill’s accomplice joyfully completed.

The servants tackled their fastidious task, closely watching themselves to avoid a fall that would no doubt send them back to smell the wall in the best-case scenario.


TBC
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Post by KidBlink »

I can't wait for all of the boys to meet again
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]KidBlink[/mention] Some of the boys are back as they do each Sunday.

12. Lessons & Games


Walking with their heels and calves clamped by tight leather wasn’t easy, but Sean and Marty managed to cross the fifteen feet from the table to the sink by taking tiny steps. The counter hosted their trays; they picked up the glasses with both gloved hands. Thankfully, their digits could move despite being taut inside the kid leather.

It took time, but Josh started enjoying himself. His tie-up was strict yet strangely bearable. Watching the two servants kept him distracted. The parade lasted, but the attention remained away from him, so he let his eyeballs feast on the luscious bodies made mesmerizing by the sophisticated outfits.

Their instructors ordered Sean and Marty to repeat the exercise. The gagged audience noticed how the two maids seemed to move faster or at least more fluidly. Their motions to pick the glasses up and set them on the hard surface seemed smoother too.

“You did well with this first exercise, boys,” Ted assessed when they set their final tray on the table.

“Nothing fell, but it’s not yet the level of sophistication we expect. Your steps should be more regular, your shoulders should roll more, you should be walking in a straight line,” Bill explained.

“You’ll just go back and forth with the tray on your fingertips.”

The two wards had their trainees put their hands in a praying position and spread their fingers to set the trays onto their erect digits.

“Keep steady, and don’t drop it. We’ll have today’s run without glasses, but it doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be clumsy.”

The deportment lesson lasted; the costumes made the two servants the obvious focus of attention.

“That’s it. Heads up, eyes to the horizon, and start walking in sync.”

Neither Sean nor Marty could follow the contradicting orders, but they focused enough to pick subtle messages from the corners of their eyes and match their steps. They walked back and forth for what felt forever; the three men watched, engrossed by the display, and soon the two who could move their hands were clapping to give the maids the beat.

Josh couldn’t deny the young men had great physical abilities. To his great shame, he would have liked to join Sean and Marty.

“They’re learning fast, aren’t they?”

“They’re naturals. I’m sure Abooboo’s friend wishes he helped them.”

“He’ll get a chance one day, if he proves obedient enough.”

The henchmen liked their job, and it begat more ideas.

“Do you think they can balance folded napkins on their heads?”

“Let’s try!”

Sean’s and Marty’s walking became more cautious once the two fiends had laid the napkin. The smooth, polished leather was slippery for the carefully ironed cotton. It took seven journeys before a trainee dropped the load on his head: Marty lost track of the rhythm and helplessly felt the cloth slide down.

“My, Gimp,” Ted reprimanded. “You’ve got to improve. Let me help.”

He picked up the napkin and set it on the boy’s head; the hood made it more difficult to feel the load, and Marty trusted it was on top. Alas, his guards were treacherous. The folded cotton square flashed past Marty’s eyes when he took his first step, triggering Bill’s instincts.

“Ginger is doing fine, but Marty is back to his old tricks.”

“Give him a chance,” Ted pleaded and picked up the napkin.

Marty held perfectly still, his nostrils flaring, while Ted set the cloth down at the very top, where it was less likely to drop. The journeys resumed; balancing something on their heads made them stiffer. Bill was about to advise taking ampler steps and rolling their shoulders, hoping Marty—or Sean, he wasn’t prejudiced—would fail their task, when hard heels tapped a peculiar beat on the tiles. Shaun soon arrived.

“You’re starting with deportment lessons, I see,” he said. “They look good.”

“They’ve been at it for a while, and they’re getting the gist of it,” Bill explained.

Shaun, draped in his silk costume, stood next to Josh, patting his head.

“You’re having a good time watching our little trollops, aren’t you? What about removing their hobbles and having them walk legs free and make them a sexier sight? And filming them wouldn’t hurt.”

Shaun’s tone remained even, but his goons heard the subtle reproach. Ted stuttered but decided to shut up. He grabbed his camcorder and searched the best angle through his viewfinder to film the pair.

“The whole mansion is doing fine, then,” the landlord stated. “TJ has the surfer boys and Abooboo under close watch in the library. Things are getting back to normal, and we can envision resuming serious filmmaking. I’ve written a new script, but it’s a little early to discuss it with the actors. And long conversations aren’t much fun for our guests,” Shaun said, smiling at the bound and gagged young men.

“What about a reward for young Josh? He’s behaved. Sure, he couldn’t do otherwise, but he’s been a good sport. And it’ll be provided by our enticing staff. Ginger! Gimp! Come over here!”

The maids minced their way to Shaun and Josh. The director looked at them and decided to start with Sean.

“Kneel down!” he ordered, pointing at Josh’s Lycra-clad package. With their hands bound in front, kneeling was possible, but Ted and Bill framed the redhead and helped him down to his knees. The tray dropped, and Sean grabbed it when his pointed-up fingers felt the silver platter lose its balance.

Ted and Bill took the trays out of his and Marty’s hands, casting a dark, warning look to let them know of the perceived failure, but they didn’t dare interrupt Shaun.

“Young Josh has been kept away from his Abooboo for long. He’s full of hormones and lust. I’m sure it’ll be child’s play to get the horny pet aroused.”

Josh blushed, ashamed to feel his dong growing just from the man’s speech.

“We’re a house where magic happens. Will you get the wand?” he asked Bill. The henchman smiled and rushed to the next room to bring back a long vibrating wand.

“We’re also a house of challenges and achievements. If you can’t hold it for five minutes, you lose,” he told Josh, before turning to Sean, “and if you don’t get him to cream his swimwear in five minutes, you lose.”

He handed the wand to Sean.

“On your knees. Ready? Steady? Go!”

Sean knew how to flick the vibrator for maximum effect, though he hadn’t practiced that much on Josh. The bulbous knob throbbing under the nylon called for release; the redhead acted oblivious to the penalty his friend could undergo and moved the silicone end to achieve top arousal. It took two minutes of the titillating contact to hear a moan coming from behind Josh’s gag.

The feedback triggered Sean into adding pressure and moving the thing faster. Eventually, he shifted the wand to his left hand, his leather-gloved right one clamping around Josh’s member, seizing the sleek Lycra. In thirty seconds, the game was over. The white spurts that seeped through the swimwear told of Sean’s victory.

“Marty won’t be the only one to spend the afternoon in a forfeit tie-up. Our cages are put to good use,” Bill remarked.

“That’s what they’re for. Will you get our two losers a quick lunch and take them for their afternoon rest?” Shaun asked.

The staff knew the question was rhetorical; they tackled their tasks.

“I’ll supervise Ginger and have him fix us sandwiches,” he said as Ted made porridge in the microwave for Josh and Marty.

While the lunch preparations were underway, up in the library TJ oversaw the final touches to the procession he was about to lead down to the dining room. He was cautious with the surfer boys, who were well-built and hence potentially dangerous.

“I’m sure after the morning spent bound to your chairs, you’ll enjoy taking a few steps.”

Zach had his Prince Ali costume on, the sexy version; Mark and Paul had white satin shorts that Shaun had them try out planning for his movie. Shackles held their limbs and kept them linked to each other.

TJ tugged on the leash clipped to Zach’s collar and the chain gang started its journey. It was short and eventless, but they were welcomed warmly by their colleagues nonetheless.

“Hey, TJ,” Ted greeted. “You’ve smelled lunch getting ready?”

“I did. Why have these two eaten already?” he asked, pointing at Josh and Marty.

“They’ve lost their trials and got a forfeit, so they don’t eat with everybody.”

Zach traded looks with Josh. They both were fine, at least. Zach felt like screaming and insulting Shaun for his depravity, but he knew this could lead to even worse treatments—upon Josh’s head rather than his.

“What’s the forfeit?” TJ enquired.

“Gibbet cages. They’re handy for doling out a punishment without wasting time.”

To Shaun’s delight, his henchmen praised his facilities and equipment; they talked about how the cages achieved subjugation. Having committed employees filled the entrepreneur with pride. Zach watched his friend being taken away, and then he was made to sit.

TBC
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Post by Bondwriter »

I forgot to post on Sunday.

13. Brainstorming


TJ and Shaun sat the three new guests down while Sean was bringing a tray with food. He’d set the table, focused on his mission, aware the three fiends lay in ambush and that a false move would cost him.

“You’re a natural, Ginger. I wonder if we could have you feed our three guests once they’re properly roped up.”

What Shaun deemed proper was full immobilization in ropes; Zach spotted the captors’ celerity and wondered whether Shaun and TJ were competing with each other to see who was the fastest at binding his boy. Of course, Shaun took care of Zach first; he could only hope that the ropes wouldn’t be bound as tight as usual, and that he’d be left on his own. But what about Josh?

Zach’s mind drifted away for a few seconds, Sean’s outfit grabbing his attention and taking him out of his dark thoughts. A pang of guilt assailed him in the wake of his excitement.

Shaun and TJ grabbed food and filled their plates. Ted and Bill soon joined them.

“I guess our caged birds won’t fly away,” Ted laughed.

“They won’t sing much either,” Bill added, triggering more snorting laughter from the whole table. The men made small talk, sometimes commenting on their bound and gagged guests. They never ran out of tales of behaviours they had to correct after having handled a set of prisoners on their own. They enjoyed talking shop.

“I had to hogtie the surfers last night,” TJ said, pointing at Paul and Mark, “since they can’t be bothered to respect my requirement for complete silence.”

Paul had let a moan out as the wash mitt and soap rubbed against his skin, and they’d indeed paid his sigh back with a sleepless night. He’d actually snoozed part of the morning, strapped to an armchair, which was as comfortable a tie-up as could be in this house.

The captives had to endure more boastful narratives in which their keepers depicted themselves as lion tamers handling the cruellest, most vicious beasts. At last, their captors consented to feeding them. Sean helped Ted, Bill, and TJ, who stood behind the prisoners and removed their muzzles. They were kept handgagged until the waiter came and offered a morsel. The prisoners had to chew with a hand covering their lips nonetheless.

The food wasn’t bland porridge, thankfully. The three young men would have loved a second helping, but none was proposed; the hands stayed on their lips while Sean himself was fed while sitting on a chair.

The meal’s end meant a gag. Shaun told his goons to go for full head mummification with earplugs and a leather mask to blindfold them.

“I just can’t get enough of the swimming cap and tape combo,” Shaun confessed. “Now we can talk without being heard. Last night, while TJ was hogtying his surfer cuties, I drafted a new script for a film. It would be a waste not using these fellows’ fine shapes and features in an artistic endeavour worthy of their beauty.”

Ted and Bill were all ears. They liked the online performances; using their models for a more ambitious project seemed a natural move. TJ wasn’t as enthusiastic, but he still dutifully listened to his employer while trussing up Sean to his seat.

“It opens on Abooboo shackled in his cell, being visited by Jafar. Foreigners have come to town, and they struck the vizier’s eye. ‘You’ll have company, my pet,’ he tells Aladdin. Then, the two foreign emissaries stroll through the market. They get whisked away, one rolled inside a carpet after being bound and gagged, the other ball-tied and stuck into a large clay jar.”

The smiles on his audience’s faces gave him confidence.

“Of course, we’ll have many shots of all the binding and gagging.”

“With scarves?” Bill asked.

“Of course, the more elaborate stuff comes up afterwards.”

“We could have them restrained with stuff that’s at hand at the market,” Ted suggested.

“Good idea,” Shaun said, scribbling on his notepad. “Their kidnappers would be men dressed in long black robes, ghostly beings that are used to acquiring young men and enslaving them. The two envoys get out of their carpet and jar and discover Abooboo. They’re to become his companions, an old prophecy made at Jafar’s birth telling that men from the West would threaten his most cherished possession and that they would bring an army to steal it from him. Jafar thinks keeping them in his jail will prevent them from raising an army, and his sadistic instincts have him put them through all the ordeals he knows. That’s where we’ll use special effects. Drama is boosted by graphic violence!”

His assistants nodded in agreement.

“At the very last minute, they get rescued. But are they, really?” the creator wondered.

“The genie could take them inside his lamp for an eternity of bondage,” Bill offered.

Shaun’s eyes opened wide and a cruel smile widened, a perfect Jafar impersonation.

“Most excellent idea,” Shaun hissed, jotting it down on his notepad. “That’s one more set we could conjure from our existing ones with added backgrounds and new, inexpensive props. Our boys will be a nice addition too, considering we have many. Those who’re not the main protagonists will make for an interesting background, strapped to a column or in strappado as a warning to others.”

The creativity workshop lasted well into the afternoon, fuelled by coffee and brandy. Shaun gathered more ideas and suggestions in his notebook.

The guests were released from their chair-ties, shackled, and taken to the various exercise areas. Their regained sight and hearing. The two hours flew by for the captives, who were able to let out their pent-up frustrations for a moment. None of the trainers looked at them too closely, all reliving the conversation with Shaun and ogling the soon-to-be actors. Muscles rolling under spandex and gagged grunts told of their efforts.

They dressed the guests up in schoolboy uniforms before bringing them back to the large living space and its table. The same sturdy chairs would welcome them for the evening. The gathering was cheerful; Shaun and his henchmen recounted the same anecdotes for the umpteenth time.

The captives appreciated the day’s mellow mood. Though the unwilling guests had not had any reprieve from their captivity and had even been punished with the gibbet cages, they received no whipping. Their abductors’ taunts as they reminisced past ordeals weren’t too mean. They just elicited muffled protests as intended.

Before they all went to bed, Shaun requested a parade; his goons obliged and shackled their charges into a chain gang. The boys had to walk around as on a carousel for ten minutes.

“Keep straight and have a proper gait. It’s not a cohort of zombies I want to see.”

Thankfully, Shaun tired quickly of giving a deportment lesson, and they split for the night. He would take Zach to his bridal suite. The devious man winked at Josh when he grabbed Zach’s arm.

Shaun took his time disrobing, washing, and dressing up his guest before he spread-eagled him on the canopy bed. Prince Abooboo was very enticing in his kinky silk underwear hugging him and sheathing his cock in gleaming material.

“Now for the nighttime gag.”

He got rid of the many layers and the swimming cap. A pile of scarves slowly filled Zach’s mouth. The mouth brimming with silk got sealed with more scarves of various widths, all cleverly and severely knotted on Zach’s nape, each reinforcing the previous one’s grip.

“You know I need my beauty sleep.”

Shaun lay at Zach’s side, propped up on his elbow. His other hand slid over the boy’s bare chest.

“Time for a bedtime story, Prince Abooboo. I want you to have sweet dreams.”

His smirk contradicted his words.

“You remember the story I told you once about a thief called Josh who broke into a benevolent king’s palace to steal his royal property? And he got caught and sent to a very strict jail. Today I’ll tell you how the good king strived to rehabilitate the scoundrel. He submitted him to strict discipline, intending to tame him fully. A subdued young man with his good looks would be purchased at a high price by a slave trader. Good merchandise is always in high demand.”

As he pronounced his last sentence, his hand patted the silk-clad member.

“My tale gives you a boner, Abooboo? What a naughty boy you are! After keeping Josh imprisoned long enough, the king had decided to cast him away to a faraway land, one of moans and squirming, as a gift for a sultan he knew and who appreciated keeping handsome male captives in his harem. His fancy had to be kept secret, and his slaves had to remain a secret. Hence, the sultan binds and gags them thoroughly—all of the time. It doesn’t make you softer, my prince,” Shaun said, kneading the now erect prick.

He went on describing lengthily a scene in which Josh was gagged—this made the bulk of the ten-minute tale—and strapped to a sawhorse. That’s when Zach exploded, which had his captor grin.

“I guess that’s enough stories for tonight, Abooboo,” he said, rubbing Zach’s nose tip with his index finger.

Shaun pulled the sheets up and used his boy’s arm as a pillow, breathing in the clean armpit smell before drifting into slumber.


TBC
KidBlink
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Post by KidBlink »

Nice!

Random question, because you have two Sean/Shaun's. Do you ever mix them up when typing out a chapter?
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Post by Bondwriter »

[mention]KidBlink[/mention] The distinct spellings help to have a mental image, and I don't get too confused with this pair of nouns. It's more common to mix the captive's name for the captor, and vice versa.
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Post by Bondwriter »

14. Morning Relief


Zach slept, though fitfully, mulling over Shaun’s tale, wondering whether the fiend had connections to whisk Josh away and deliver him to another maniac’s claws. It was still dark outside when Shaun switched the light on.

“You’re awake. Let’s get going, then.”

Ten minutes later, the landlord was dragging his prisoner behind him, holding a leash clipped to his collar. Zach was heavily gagged in silk; Shaun added a wide scarf to Zach’s overnight assortment as an over-the-nose layer.

“I’ll show you how kind I am,” Shaun whispered as they entered a room. The blindfold fell off. They were in the Cave of Wonders, the large room where Zach had first been kept. A boy, probably Paul judging from his build and carnation, was strapped to a column. Through the two-way mirror, Zach spotted one of the boxes, and he wondered whether it contained a fellow-prisoner.

The sight in front of him caught his attention: Josh lay supine strapped to a cot, muzzled, but he was comfortable enough to sleep—his eyes were closed. He was wearing sexy swimwear, and Zach suspected a morning boner.

“I’ll have you enjoy your friend’s company for a couple hours. What about a sixty-nine?”

Without waiting for an impossible answer, Shaun had his charge straddle the cot and sit on his friend’s stomach, which woke the sleeper up.

“Mrmm?!”

“I’ve brought you a playmate. You’re going to sniff each other’s crotch, which should get you in a good mood! We have a movie to shoot afterwards, one for which you aren’t needed today. If you win the wager, you’ll be allowed to watch in reasonable bondage. You may refuse to take part and call dib on the gibbet cages. So, I will have Abooboo lie face down so your snouts align with your boners. Both of you must make the other squirt his load. I want to find wet underwear when I’m back—and not with pee!”

Shaun helped Zach down, bringing his nostrils above the Lycra-clad package. The stain and smell told of wanking from the night before. These perverts loved milking the captives; his own cock was marinating in copiously creamed silk.

Shaun fetched rope and got his prince into a hogtie, knees spread out so his boner rubbed against Josh.

The door shutting off seconds later told the prisoners Shaun had left.

“Mmmgrmmbllm?!” Josh asked.

“Mrmmmgmr,” Zach replied.

The heads started moving. Both could perceive manly smells, with only a hint of ammonia. Their gagged mouths rubbing against each other’s young members added to the olfactory stimulation, and the pairs of underwear filled up. Their own moans aroused them as they nuzzled each other and did their best to provide pleasure despite the bonds.

Semen gushed out in spurts, six and nine getting a whiff of the fresh discharge they’d provoked, each revelling in his own orgasm. Zach and Josh recovered, taking deep breaths through their noses, inhaling the intoxicating scents. They felt relaxed and dozed off, never fully unaware of each other’s presence. This blissful state lasted much longer than was usually allowed under Shaun’s roof.

They got intimacy—of sorts, considering the room featured a silent, captive audience—but steps announced a change. The door opened and the four-man squad entered. Zach raised his head: Mark and Paul were in tow, leashed, adequate models for a male lingerie catalogue or one featuring expert rope rigging. Thin, clinging shorties and Gwen hoods were the favoured local combination for boys to wear.

“Good morning, boys,” Shaun greeted. “We’ve got a shooting today, a serious one, and the crew will be here soon. You’d better not give us any grief while we get you prepared. You’re not to communicate with the crew, unless one of us is present,” he said, broadening his arms to encompass his fellow-tormentors, who spread across the room. The boxes were opened, revealing Sean and Marty without a blindfold on, which meant Josh’s and Zach’s ecstasy had had witnesses. Shaun looked at the fetish models he held at the ends of leashes.

“You never worked in one of my creations. You must know that actors will be compliant and quiet. Above all, they must see to it that the movie ends up according to my vision. Lots of it doesn’t depend on you, and that’s why the technicians are involved. They have to focus on the work at hand and won’t be bothered by whiny divas. So when you’re not acting, you wait. Not a move, not a sound. Is that clear?”

Paul and Mark nodded. Shaun looked at the others and requested the same acknowledgement. The morning routine got tackled by the enthusiastic quartet, who took their guests downstairs to TJ’s quarters, where their dressing rooms would be the time of the movie. Breakfast, hygiene, dressing up, alas! It had become a common occurrence for the six young men.

Zach and Josh were the first to be brought back up on set. This time, free from a blindfold, he recognized the room and saw the halls leading to it,. It was the market square where he’d already shot scenes for Shaun’s movie. The place was brimming with activity.

Shaun had told the crews assisting his many fetish endeavours of his specific acting method. Bondage movies had to look real, and the anguish and discomfort had to look real, so having the actors bound and gagged all the time during the shooting was meant to have actors focused and ready when a change in schedule occurred.

On top of the five crew members, there were three men dressed in middle-eastern garbs, whom Ted and Bill greeted. They’d been extras in previous features, but they had an acting role as merchants this time.

Ted and Bill strapped their charges to armchairs featuring a ‘Z’ and a ‘J’ printed on their canvas backs. The chairs couldn’t fold, and their tubes were made of steel—inconspicuous immobilizing devices. The straps on the armrests disappeared into its thickness, pulled inside by a clever mechanism that tightened their grasp when triggered by motion. Thankfully, the smart contraption slowly released its grip if perfect immobility was achieved.

The legs, strapped to each other, were folded under the thin layer and held in a leather cuff linked to the seat’s bottom. The goons lifted the headrests, and after adding the silk straps that also tightened in reaction to motion, they knew the audience wouldn’t make itself noticed.

Zach could see the chairs, two on his left and three on the other side, with Josh to his immediate right. Marty, Mark, and Sean joined them one by one. Ted and Bill eventually brought Paul, who wore his costume. In this first appearance, he wore a long robe to protect his body from the scorching sun, as did the locals. Zach noticed Paul wasn’t gagged; it turned out his mouth was stuffed with a small silk ball. Bill unlocked his handcuffs, and Shaun walked him through the set, rehearsing the scene with him.

The crew was still busy cabling the lighting and equipment, no longer bothered by Shaun’s bizarre shootings; the plentiful acting troop was bigger than usual, which made for a more perplexing show, but the pay was good and the hotel first class. To top it all, the days weren’t long, so they overlooked their employer’s quirks.

Ted and Bill had also donned their costumes. They were dressed in black robes cut to make them into ninjas, which the hoods concealing their identities clearly referenced to. They stayed on the sidelines while Shaun gave Paul his cues.

Zach looked intently at the young actor: what had they threatened to do to him or possibly to Mark to have him so pliant and docile? The first shots had Paul walk around freely around the market. His robe followed his gracile steps, highlighting his limbs underneath. He was to act concerned and talk to shop owners. They redid the scene countless times; the performer’s enthusiasm didn’t dwindle. In their chairs, the audience had their eyes riveted on the thin, gleaming fabric flying around the lithe, muscular body and the young man’s winning smile.

The director deemed he had all the takes he needed, so they moved on to the next scene, in which Paul would get pulled away behind a tent, bound, gagged, and rolled inside a thick carpet. The men would then put him on their shoulders and take him away unseen. Shaun wanted shots from various angles, which made the whole shooting lengthy for the audience. The action was good, but they stopped all the time and started over. Poor Paul got the huge balled-up rag crammed inside his gob and his wrists manacled with hemp rope eight times.

Between each take, Shaun gave instructions for the next one, Paul listening and nodding. They looked professional and focused on their scene. After three hours, they undertook rolling him in the carpet, which they didn’t redo as many times, and Paul was spun around like a dirty sock in the washing machine three times only.

Ted and Bill made swift moves: their online experience taught them how to move efficiently in front of a lens. They had learned how to stand aside a captive when being filmed, and they showed off their knotting skills, working with wide but controlled gestures. Shaun admired how good they looked on his monitor.

TBC
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