Captive of my Teenaged Cousins - 18 Parts Complete (mm/m)

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Jason Toddman
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Xtc wrote: 2 years ago I'm glad you're continuing to post this one.
Thanks. :D

PART 5

There wasn’t much activity for a long while. I could hear the frequent turning of a page, the occasional replacement of one comic book with another, the fluttering of pages in the breeze, a small cough or shifting of feet, and that was about it. With that comic book folded across my face, I couldn’t SEE anything at all except for Brian’s stockings on either side of my head and a small portion of each of his lower legs.

The first warning I had that something had abruptly and unexpected changed was when Brian abruptly yelled out, “Hey, Ron! Over here!” and I could feel his body shifting slightly on my chest as if waving to someone.

“Hey, Brian,” I heard an unfamiliar kid’s voice calling from some distance well off to my right and apparently far behind me in the direction Brian was facing. “Sorry we’re late. Mom sprang some surprise extra chores on us before we could leave.”

“Who’s that with you and Mikey?” asked a second voice from the same direction and a bit closer. I could hear the sound of footsteps approaching as well now, but I couldn’t see a thing because the comic book on my face completely blocked my view.

“Aw, just some cousin of Walt’s,” replied ‘Mikey’. “Walt and Randy asked us to keep him company while they play Soccer and hang out with Dave and their friends.”

“Another tie-up freak, huh?” asked the voice Brian had identified as Ron. At about the same time I could see a pair of blue sneakers walk up to within a foot of my head and stop, and another pair of black sneakers stop right behind the first. “Well, better him than us, I guess. You play with him much, yet?”

“Naw, not yet,” replied Brian, who suddenly got up off my chest and stepped away from me at that point – leaving his comic book draped across my face.

“We wanted to wait for you guys,” added Brian. “You enjoy playing with the kids David ties up more than we do. Too often WE’RE the ones he’s got tied up!”

“Yeah, but we always take it easy with you guys,” replied the other boy who hadn’t been named yet. “You’re lucky we like you. But unless Dave said differently, maybe we can have more fun with the new kid.”

"He didn't say one way or the other," replied Brian. "We didn't tell him you were coming, but I doubt he'll mind. Or this kid either."

“Let’s have a look at him,” said Ron. I could see the feet closest to me shift to a squatting position, and then suddenly the comic book was yanked off my face. It took me a few seconds to adjust to the sudden glare. When my vision cleared I saw the two new kids more clearly.

Ron was about my age but some inches shorter than I and even more slender in build than Randy. He wore only blue jeans cut off at the knees and sneakers; no shirt. He had unusually (for the time) long black hair, gray eyes, and a rather dark complexion. I think he may have been Hispanic, but at the time I didn’t even know what a Hispanic was so I didn’t think to ask. He was squatting on his haunches looking down at me with interested amusement.

Behind Ron was another boy also my age, a little taller and broader than Ron, with dark brown hair like mine, hazel eyes, and wire-rimmed glasses. He wore a set of green shorts, blue sneakers, long tube socks with brightly-colored stripes near the top, and a plaid buttoned shirt that was completely unbuttoned. His complexion was as much lighter than mine as Ron’s was darker, and his face was literally covered with freckles.

“Hi,” Ron said to me with a wide, open-mouthed smile. “I’m Ron. This is Al,” he continued, indicating freckle-face - who stood behind Ron, bent forward hands on knees to peer down at me over Ron’s shoulder as if I were an unfamiliar form of wildlife. “What’s your name, and how’d you get here?”

I began to give Ron a quick run-down of recent events. By the way, this whole time Michael had remained seated on my belly reading his comic books as if he was all by himself – paying no attention whatsoever to me or the new arrivals other than a quick glance at one or another of us. So, seeing that I apparently had no objection to Michael sitting on my gut, Ron proceeded to step over me and seat himself knees down (rather than knees up as Brian had done and Michael still was doing) on my chest, hands on knees and grinning down at me as he shook his long hair out of his shiny eyes with a shake of his head. I continued with my story without missing a beat at this pleasant development and decided not to be as brief as I originally intended.

Somewhere along the way Brian grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him off me, and told him he was being rude and to put his comic books away. But Michael wasn’t off me more than a few seconds before Al apparently decided to make himself comfortable and took Michael’s place – also sitting knees up on my belly to put all his weight on me but sitting facing me rather than sideways as Michael had been doing. Michael had been rather light (maybe 90 pounds) and his weight not too noticeable; but Al must’ve weighed at least 140 and his weight was VERY noticeable the way he sat; but I found I didn’t mind at all. He looked past Ron’s shoulders down at me again at watched and listened with apparent interest. My story as a result became even more detailed than ever. In fact, I think I went back and mentioned some things I had neglected before. It may seem odd to most folks, but I was enjoying this new development very much.

But eventually my story came to its end to that point. At about the same time I noticed that Michael and Brian had wandered off somewhere. Looking around, I saw them behind some bushes removing their clothing and changing into black Speedos. Apparently uninterested in my story, they both went over to the pond for a swim. “We came here for a swim too,” admitted Ron, “but this is more fun. You don’t mind if we stay here for a while too, do you?”

“Not at all,” I replied a bit too eagerly, before blushing beet-red.

“Yeah, he’s Walt and Randy’s relative, all right,” snickered Al.

“You know them?” I asked.

“Sure,” replied Ron. “We live on the same road. We’ve known them since we started grade school. We’ve been playing tie-up-and-torment games with ‘em since I was six. Half the time we're the tormentors; the other half we're the tormented. But it's always been fun.”

It sounded like I had missed out on some pleasant experiences by living in a different area.

“You wanna torture him now, or wait a while first?” Al asked Ron.

“Let’s wait until we’ve a swim ourselves and cooled off,” replied Ron as Brian and Michael waded to shore with some loud splashes. The two immediately got up and ran out to the pond in the shorts they already wore – tossing off their shirts as they ran and whooping loudly. Michael and Brian stopped as the other two boys ran past them, turned around, and ran back into the water after them – leaving me staked out and alone.

At the same time, the sun had moved to a point where the trees were no longer providing me with any shade from my waist up, and I started to get quite hot. Also, the sun was pretty much in my eyes. Fortunately, it shone in the opposite direction of the pond, so I was able to amuse myself by watching the other four splashing and horsing around in the pond.

Eventually Michael and Brian waded back in and came back to my side. More gently than the first time, they sat down on me sideways without bothering to towel-dry themselves first – making loud squishing noises as they did so – and watched Ron and Al splashing each other with much laughter. They dried themselves as they sat and then prepared to re-dress. Abruptly aware that no one was obstructing my view this time, Michael casually took the towel he had just been using and dropped it on my face. Well, it got the sun out of my eyes.

I expected them to change behind the bushes where they had before. Instead, I felt them sit on me again; but this time I was feeling warm, wet, BARE skin! Holy Cats!

It didn’t last long though… the weight of one of them disappeared and then replaced in a few seconds with identical weight but the distinct feel of cotton. Then the other weight was removed and replaced similarly. Then Michael, who was the one on my chest this time, yanked the towel off my face and tossed it off to the other side of me and I watched them both finish re-dressing as they sat. They finished and stood up as Ron and Al came wading ashore to dry off.

These two also sat down on me sopping wet. This time Al was in front, sitting knees up as before and his feet on either side of my head, as he put on his shirt. Ron followed immediately after, sitting on my belly facing me but with his knees up instead of down as before. Then Brian and Michael followed suit, sitting on my hips and thighs facing forward and knees up as well. So now all four of them were sitting on top of me and putting all their weight on me at once.

All this took my breath away – figuratively as well as literally. It’s not easy breathing under such circumstances, let me tell you; but I managed well enough to not want a single one of them to get off me! Also, the way they were positioned put me back into the shade, as they helped cool me off while they drip-dried all over me.

I expected them to start tickling or otherwise torturing me at once, but they were content to just rest and dry off for a while. Al sat there bent forward with his arms resting on his upturned knees, which were directly over my face and dripping water right onto my face and glasses and into my eyes.

Once they were ready to begin, Al took my glasses and dried them off for me before setting them aside for safe-keeping. Then the four of them tickle-tortured me. Even Michael and Brian were suddenly enthusiastic about it, and tickled me as vigorously as any of the other boys had. And since I wasn’t gagged this time, my cries of help, cries for mercy, and gales of wild laughter practically echoed through the nearby woods. Naturally I thrashed around in my bonds too, but this was as unavailing as ever. Breathing became even more difficult than ever since Ron and Al were still sitting on top of me while they tickled.

They didn’t relent for at least fifteen minutes, though they gave me short breaks every couple of minutes to let me catch my breath somewhat. Finally though my pleas for mercy became more strenuous and my endurance threshold was finally being exceeded. I was literally gasping for air when they stopped.

In fact, Al got the impression I was hyperventilating; he grabbed the small pillow my head was lying on and held it firmly down on my face – not enough to suffocate me but simply to make me breathe my own exhale and slow my breathing down.

Just as my breathing was returning to normal (or as normally as could be expected while two heavy boys straddled my chest and belly), I heard some whispering above me. There was a short, silent pause. I was about to ask what was going on and to please get the pillow off my face when suddenly I heard plopping noises in the grass to either side of my head. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could just make out a set of bare knees – facing toward my feet. While I was figuring this out, I heard giggling directly behind me, felt bare ankles suddenly bracing my head so that I could not turn it away to either side, and saw nothing but darkness as the pillow suddenly settled softly but very firmly down on my face. Now I was hearing laughter from several boys at once, and suddenly I knew what was going on…

One of them was sitting/kneeling on the pillow – and on my face!!!

I gave out a yell (considerably muffled, of course – I could barely hear it myself) and started to struggle. Naturally this aroused more laughter – and aroused me too in a different way – and produced no constructive results. Of course I didn’t mind quite as much as I let on, but any self-respecting boy had to put up appearances. Fortunately I was not gagged; I would’ve passed out in jig time if I were. My nose was blocked (and felt like it was being squashed flat!) but I could get enough air by breathing through the sides of my mouth (the resulting noise bringing even more laughter). Either it was one of the smaller boys doing this or he was not putting all his weight on me, or it seems to me my mouth would have been blocked too. However, the weight on my forehead was enough so that I was starting to see stars. But whoever it was didn’t seem to think of this and stayed put while I struggled.

I was having fun but decided too much fun at once could kill me. So I did the only thing I could think of that would take the pressure off… I abruptly went limp, held my breath, and ceased to move as completely as I could manage.

This apparently alarmed the others (as I’d intended, of course) and the weight was immediately removed. However, my head was spinning, stars were swirling, and the sun was shining right into my eyes again before someone placed my glasses back on my face. So I couldn’t make out who had been sitting on my face – and I never did find out who it was. From the giggling sound I heard though, I think it was probably Michael, who was the smallest and lightest of the four.

The boys (one knelt on either side of me while the others were standing bent forward hands on knees) looked down at me with concern, but I quickly assured them that I was all right. Of course I could have feigned distress and gotten them to untie me had I wanted to, but I didn’t want that any more than they did. Later on I learned that Ron knew mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and was about to try it on me. Oh man… if I’d only known THAT I might’ve kept pretending that I’d passed out. What a lost opportunity!

And so the fun continued. Ron knelt on my chest and gently but repeatedly slapped my face – alternating this by squeezing my face between his thighs (nicely well-padded compared to those of my lanky cousins). Al bounced on my belly and clamped my nipples with clothes pins he found in the backpack David had left there (I’m sure they were being used for the exact purpose David intended). Brian got some magic markers from the same place and scrawled numerous doodles on my legs. And Michael continued to tickle my feet. These four activities (especially Ron’s face squeezing) performed on me all at once made me feel very… stimulated. And it showed, as one or another of them gleefully pointed out once every few minutes!

And then… it was time for lunch!

By now all of us had dried off in the hot sun and dry air, and we were getting hungry. David had packed a lunch for me as well as Brian and Michael, and Ron and Al had apparently brought their own brown-bag lunches as well. The others dug into theirs - continuing to use me as their picnic table – but of course I was left tied up and could only watch (drooling) as the others ate theirs. Finally Ron took pity on me and hand-fed me a sandwich (holding mine close to my mouth in one hand while he held his own sandwich in the other). The food (except the potato chips) had been stored in a picnic basket with ice, so that the sandwiches and sodas were still fresh and ice-cold when we ate. For dessert, we had chocolate bars.

It is an interesting experience eating lunch while staked down and with one boy your size knees-down sitting on your chest, another knees-up sitting on your belly, and two smaller ones on your legs. Most people might not find that experience particularly enjoyable, but I did – immensely. Ron fed me carefully, and made sure none of the soda slopped onto me. However, the others were rather messy eaters and got crumbs, condiments, and dribbles of soda all over me. Add in the magic marker scrawls all over my legs and I was quite a pathetic sight. All in all however, it was a pleasant rest break.

I wondered what fresh torments the others had planned for me in the afternoon, however.

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Jason Toddman
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PART 6

“Say, how long have you been kept tied up without a break, anyway?” Ron suddenly asked me. “Your wrists are starting to look kind of red. Do they feel all right?”

Up to now I hadn’t noticed any problems with circulation, but I waggled my fingers and tried to move my feet just to make sure. My fingers seemed maybe a bit numb, but only a bit. The ties were very secure but not so tight as to cut my circulation very much; I still felt quite comfortable overall and said so.

“I still wanna know how long you’ve been tied like this,” insisted Ron. “We’ve been here three hours, and you should have a break after four at most.”

“It’s been about five by now,” said Brian, taking a quick look at his wrist-watch. "He got staked out two hours before you two... finally... showed up."

“That’s too long,” said Ron. “It’s break time.”

“David said nothing about breaks,” said Michael.

“He probably figured he didn't have to. He probably thought you knew enough by now NOT to keep someone tied more than four hours at a time no matter how comfortable he says he feels!” replied Ron in a scolding kind of voice. “You know the rules. No more than four hours at a time without a break. We always insisted that this applied to you. Applies to Jason too, even if he IS a newbie.”

I recalled that Ike and his friends had similar safety rules concerning me, only in their case it was closer to two hours rather than four; though that might have been because I was much younger at that time. However, I was having so much fun and felt so comfortable that time-limits hadn’t occurred to me at all in this case. In fact, I actually began to protest as Ron and the others began to untie me. Mainly I suppose because I wanted them to keep sitting on me too.

“It’s not like it’s for all day,” said Ron as he untied my wrists. “I like your enthusiasm. Mikey and Bri usually cry and wanna be let go after only one measly hour, let alone four.” I could see the two younger boys (who were untying my feet) bristle a bit at this, but they said nothing. “Anyway, we have a hard and fast rule: break-time at any sign of swollen hands or feet or after four hours – whichever comes first. No more ties that day for the victim if the first happens; minimum 15-minute break if the second with a re-tie IF the victim volunteers for it. No drafting of victims more than once a day.”

It sounded like these kids were as responsible about each other’s safety as my brother and his friends were about mine… except about that part about limiting drafts to once a day. In my case, breaks of about 5 to 10 minutes were often followed by another re-tie whether I liked it or not. I can recall many days where I was tied up by Ike and/or his friends for twelve hours at a time or longer in a day altogether (particularly during sleep-overs)… though I minded less as I got older and didn’t mind at all by the time I was 10. By the time I was 12 I usually wanted to be kept tied longer than my captors did, but because leaving me left tied while unsupervised was verboten almost from the first, I didn’t often get my way! An early incident where an older kid found me tied to a tree badly sunburned and covered with bug bites made my brother insistent on supervision (he’d had a lot of heavy explaining to do and never wanted to repeat THAT experience), and I was never left unattended since.

Ron and Al finished untying my wrists and checked them over after helping me to sit up (I was a bit wobbly from the long tie-up and the two other boys hadn’t finished my ankles yet so I appreciated the help). My wrists seemed fine to me but both Ron and Al insisted rubbing them to restore the circulation anyway. Well, I had no objection to that of course so I let them. Sure enough, I definitely felt better when they were finished. Brian and Michael hadn’t bothered doing the same for my ankles and was about to rub them myself, but Ron and Al jumped in to take care of them too.

“We’ve had a lot of practice doing this,” Ron told me.

“It helps that our moms own a massage parlor,” added Al. “We give them THEIR massages.”

Lucky moms! I decided to risk asking them for a back and shoulder rub.

“Okay!” they replied with no hesitation whatsoever. “We were going to anyway to make sure you don’t get cramps. That happened a lot until we started doing this.” And so they rolled me over onto my stomach and removed my glasses so they wouldn’t be damaged as I lay my head down on the grass. Then Ron sat on my back and gave me a shoulder rub while Al sat on my tush, facing my feet, and gave me a leg rub. Ever seen a dog that was being petted by two or three kids at once? That’s how good I felt!

“We don’t sit on our moms of course,” Al told me. “But we do get better leverage this way, and I think we do a better job this way too.”

Who was I to argue? I felt wonderful!

“This would be easier and more effective if you weren’t wearing these pants though,” Al continued. “If you’ve got shorts on underneath, and don’t mind undoing your pants, this will work a lot better.”

“Uh… I’m wearing briefs,” I told him. “But they’re dark.”

“Makes no difference to me if you’ve got no undies at all if you don’t care,” Al replied with a chortling kind of laugh.

I thought about it – for maybe a second – and then said okay. Ron took his weight off me so that I could rise up enough to undo my pants and pull them down. I could push only so far without getting up onto my knees but Al said that was sufficient. Meanwhile, Ron turned around facing Al, sat down on my shoulders, and gave me a back rub while Al seated himself on my butt and massaged my legs some more.

I felt so blissful that I actually started to doze off when I felt Al’s weight disappear. Then I suddenly felt someone’s hand give my butt several hard smacks! I tried to get up in surprise, but Ron’s weight still held me down. “Take it easy,” he told me. “I’m just giving you a butt rub, okay?”

A butt rub?! I’d never heard of a freaking butt rub before! But as he proceeded, I suddenly realized that my butt WAS rather sore from lying on it for several hours – especially with the weight of up to four other boys pressing it into the hard ground! It felt just like a shoulder rub – just lower down – and it felt pretty good too.

“Ready for more play time?” Ron asked me, still straddling my shoulders. I turned to look at him, but all I could see of him at the moment were the sides of his feet.

“Sure,” I replied with enough enthusiasm to bring a laugh.

“Okay, but we’re not staking you back out,” he told me. “Kick your pants off and then put your hands behind your back.”

“Kick my pants off?” I asked with some alarm. “What for? What are we doing?”

“Just do it, will you?” asked Ron with a weary-sounding sigh. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to do anything to embarrass or hurt you. There’s no one here but us, and it’s not like we want you to drop the briefs too in case you had you-know-what in mind.” Though I probably didn't figure out what he meant until later, I felt relieved.

I complied, so that now I was wearing only my dark briefs (which looked no different than black Speedos in any case from any distance except for the hard-to-see-anyway opening in front). I expected him to tie me with some rope. Instead I felt the cold, hard metal of a set of handcuffs as I heard them being clicked shut around my wrists. I thought at first he must’ve brought his own handcuffs, but then realized that Walt and Randy had left the handcuffs and leg cuffs that they had brought me here wearing (because they didn’t want to be seen carrying such things to the Soccer game, I eventually realized).

Ron got off me and helped me to turn over and sit up. “We’re going to take you for a walk,” he told me as he put my glasses back on me. “I guess we should’ve had you put your sneaks on first. Well, we’ll do it for you.” So he dressed one of my feet and Al the other.

“Phew,” said Al. “You should wash your shoes more, like Walt and Randy do.”

“They just do that because their aunt washes them,” said Brian.

“That’s only partly true,” said Ron. “They also make sure they’re clean so that it’s not so bad when they have them tied over their faces.”

That puzzled me a bit at a time. I found out what he meant later. For now let’s just say that afterward when I spent time with my cousins I was always wearing the cleanest sneakers possible!

Once the sneakers were tied on, the leg-cuffs quickly followed. Al and Ron stepped on each side of me to help me up, but rather than set me standing they had me get on my knees. Then, just as one of them was putting that dog leash on me again, I saw Michael and Brian wading ashore from the lake. While I was being massaged, they’d switched back to their Speedos to take another swim. Brian stopped beside his clothes to put on his socks and sneakers. Michael continued walking toward us. Neither changed back into their clothes this time but wore their wet Speedos.

“Why’d you bother to change out of those before if you were just going to go swimming again?” I asked them.

“It was too chilly to wear wet Speedos before,” said Brian. “But it’s hot out now.”

Michael continued walking until he was behind me and I could no longer see him. I was about to ask where he was going and why I was still on my knees when the sensation of a small, wet body climbing up onto my shoulders (with a wet squish) gave me the answer. I was going to give Michael a piggy-back ride. I wondered if anyone else would want one! I could probably carry Brian a long while too, but I wasn’t sure how far I could carry Ron or Al while cuffed and hobbled. But as I thought about it, I decided it’d be fun to try!

Michael got mounted and clasped my face between his small, wet thighs, while his wet body and legs moistened the back of my head, neck, and upper back and the front of my torso. Then he clasped his hands together right under my jaw to hold himself steady (he was slippery when wet). Despite the cooling effects of all this and clad only in my undershorts and sneakers, I was feeling warmer rather than cooler.

Once he had a secure seat, I was helped to my feet like an ailing camel (in fact, they now proceeded to call me “Camel”) by Ron and Al, while Brian took the leash and began to lead me down the same path Ron and Al had originally come down (and which David, Walter, and Randy had gone up when they left). Hobbled, cuffed, and ridden by a small boy (who seemed less small the further we went), I felt like a camel now too!

We hadn’t gone far when I suddenly felt a sharp whack on my butt! Then another one. I also heard the distinctive sound of towels being whipped around, and realized that Ron and Al were both behind me. I suddenly realized they were towel-whipping my buns when two more whacks assaulted my legs from behind. A couple more whacks assaulted my bare lower back. OW! Now I knew why they wanted me to shuck my pants! OW! Now I had no protection at all! OW! I even felt some whacks on my upper back, which seemed awfully close to hitting my rider; yet despite several close calls either Michael was never struck once or he was enough tougher than I that he didn’t yelp like a slapped dog like I kept doing. Anyway, although this was not as enjoyable as some of the rest of it, I didn’t try to put a stop to it; overall this was too much fun for me to be a spoil-sport.

After several minutes of walking at the pace limited by my hobbles, we came to another small clearing. This one was much closer to the street because I could see houses past some of the trees, and the clearing itself was dominated by a very large maple tree holding the largest and most well-built tree-house I think I have ever seen outside of the Disney movie Swiss Family Robinson. At sight of it, I was concerned that our procession might be seen by other people. I didn't mind private humiliation in front these guys, but out in public view was a different matter altogether!

“This is our tree-house,” Michael told me. “Well, David built it, but he lets us use it too. Nobody else comes out here except David and his friends… well, except mom and dad. It’s because mom and dad come out here when they want us for something that we didn’t come here sooner, but they’d be away this time of day and it’s nice and private otherwise. This is where we’ll play if it rains. Want to come inside to check it out?”

“Sure,” I replied. Michael and Brian sure seemed to be a lot friendlier since Ron and Al showed up and helped to break the ice.

Ron undid my handcuffs so I could more easily help Michael dismount, and then re-cuffed my hands in front of me. Despite this, it wasn’t too hard to climb the ten-foot ladder leading up to the tree-house. The steps were close enough together so that the hobbles didn’t impede the climb. The handcuffs would’ve been a different matter but for some hooks someone had set into each rung that I could hook the handcuffs around. I learned later that this was precisely their intended purpose; apparently I was far from the first (or the last) 'prisoner' to enter that tree-house in handcuffs (or ropes)!

It was indeed a very nice treehouse; no wonder Michael and Brian were proud of it even though it was David (with a little help from his friends) who had built it. It was as large as a standard living room, furnished with old but sturdy furniture, and the walls, floor, and ceiling were solid and waterproof. There was even a regular door (with lock) leading in and an old window (with glass and shutters) on each of the other three sides. There were also shelves on each side loaded with books, magazines, and comic books. There were no beds, but there were three cots with solid enough frameworks to tie someone to (as I found out another day) and sleeping bags (which proved to be somehow modified into something resembling crude sleep-sacks, as I also eventually discovered).

After showing me around a while, the boys decided it was time to go back to the pond where David and the others would be expecting to find us. I thought they’d have to pass the tree-house anyway, but apparently they went up another path I hadn’t noticed that branched out from the main one close to the pond.

When we gathered at the foot of the tree again, it was Brian who climbed onto my shoulders as my hands were re-cuffed behind me. He was heavier than Michael of course, but by this time he had dried off so slipperiness was no longer a problem. Michael led me along with this leash this time, but Al and Ron still towel-whipped me all the way back to the pond.

Once there, I expected the older boys to free my hands so I could ease Brian off my shoulders to the ground. Instead, they lifted the boy off my shoulders themselves and eased him to the ground. Then, as the two smaller boys ran into the pond, Ron and Al took the leash off my neck and – with one on each side of me – took my still-bound arms in firm arm-locks and began to escort me straight toward the pond.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I asked nervously.

“We’re taking you swimming!” they replied together as if they’d rehearsed the line.

“But I can’t swim hobbled and cuffed like this,” I said with growing alarm and began to struggle a bit.

“Don’t worry, we’ll help you!” said Ron.

“Trust us, will you?” said Al with a wide grin. “We won’t let you slip and drown.”

“Though we might dunk your head a few times and hold it under a bit if you make any more of a fuss,” said Ron.

“But won’t my cousins get mad if these cuffs get rusty?” I asked frantically.

“Of course not! This isn’t the first time they’ve gone swimming with the wearer!” said Al. “Walter and Randy oil the things every time they’ve gotten wet!”

“I still don’t think I want to go,” I told them.

“Okay, you asked for it,” said Al and Ron together again; damn, but I think they DID rehearse it! Ron grabbed my glasses and casually tossed them onto a towel that lay there. Al did the same with his own glasses, and then the two frog-marched and then quite literally dragged me right into the water for a swim! I yelled and struggled like I was going to my own execution, but it was of no avail. To be fair to the others though, I didn’t fight as hard as I could have; I wasn’t really serious in my reluctance and they knew it or they probably would have stopped. In any case, they didn't take out further than walking depth; I was always able to feel the bottom with my feet whenever standing erect - though usually I floated freely with Ron and Al close beside me.

It was a nice swim too. Ron and Al stayed with me every minute and kept my head above water (they never dunked me as they’d said they’d do). Brian and Michael splashed water on me with wide sweeps of their arms several times though while I was helpless to defend myself... the little jerks! We stayed in the water for quite a while before we all returned to shore. Then, without even pausing to dry off, the four of them led me back to the tent stakes and tied me back down as I had been that morning. Then, with all of us still dripping wet, Ron knelt/sat on my belly again and all four of them tickled me without mercy for what seemed like forever.

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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 7

The afternoon wore on but remained hot enough even in the shade by the time Walter, Randy, and David returned for me. They were all in an extremely good mood. Not only had they clobbered the opposing team in their soccer match, but the losing team had lost a bet and had to buy the winners pizza. They had then engaged in various other activities with various friends in their Soccer team; normal everyday activities that is – as far as I know David was the only other team-member who played what are now called TUGs with them, though there were a few other boys in the area (like Ron and Al) their age or younger who were in on them too.

These three exchanged greetings with the five of us, and then all three promptly sat on top of me; there was certainly nothing unusual about this anymore. Ron and Al joined in too, so now there were FIVE boys on top of me. Brian and Michael were the only exceptions; they went off for another swim instead. Just as well; I was literally covered from the neck down anyway and the only place left to sit was… well, you know… I needed that clear to breathe!

However, my reprieve was short-lived. After splashing around for a while with Brian, Michael came back ashore and he… well, you can probably guess what the little jerk did (and I was sure by then he was the one who’d done it before)! Everyone had a good laugh out of it too; even me, I suppose, once my mouth was uncovered. The pillow was under my head this time, so it provided enough cushioning so I didn’t get a headache. I could still breathe okay, though I tended to hold my breath as much as I could anyway for reasons that probably don’t bear (or need) explaining.

Then, once Michael had had enough, Brian decided the act deserved an encore! *Sigh!*

But no one else did it; that might have been too much even for me if one of the larger boys did that to me too - under those conditions anyway.

Shortly afterward, Al and Ron announced that they had to go home, so they made their farewells and walked off up the same trail Walter, Randy, and David had just come down. Shortly after this, Walter and Randy decided to take a quick swim and stripped down to the Speedos they were wearing underneath. They immediately took off; leaving me with David and his brothers. David was sitting knees up on my chest, and this time he had his shirt off to reveal a positively gorgeous body underneath. I was so busy looking at it that I almost didn’t notice when he asked if his brothers had treated me okay.

“Oh! Yeah!” I replied quickly; immediately lifting my eyes higher than I had been. “They were shy at first, but once Al and Ron showed up they were very friendly.”

“That’s good,” said David. “You’ll be seeing more of them, I imagine. More of ME too.” And he snickered when he said THAT. I was too dumb to be suspicious, however.

Shortly, David said it was time for him and his brothers to go home. So they made their farewells as Walter and Randy waded to shore. David, Michael, and Brian packed up their gear (except the blanket that I still lay on) and walked off up the same trail they had taken me walking earlier. “See you guys later,” David called to us cheerily as he waved goodbye to us. However, later would turn out to be sooner than I thought.

Meanwhile, Walter and Randy sat down on me with more wet squishing noises clad only in their Speedos and from then on had my full, undivided attention. They didn’t tickle or otherwise torment me though; we were all pretty tuckered put by then. They just sat and drip-dried all over me and we talked until the heat and the warm breeze dried them off.

It was well past six but still pretty warm outside when my cousins decided that it was time for us to head home. After putting their clothes back on (they’d been wearing only Speedos up to then) they untied me from the tent pegs and then immediately rolled me on my stomach to put the handcuffs and leg cuffs on me.

“Hey, wait a minute!” I protested. “I’m still in just my underwear!”

“Yeah, we noticed that!” said Randy in that smirking tone of voice he often had.

“But I can’t walk back to your house like this,” I continued as they finished binding me and helped me to my feet. “What would Aunt Yvette think if she sees me like this?”

“She won’t see you, because she’s not coming home tonight,” Walter informed me. “I guess we forgot to tell you. She decided to stay with your mom for the weekend and come back late tomorrow. So we have the house… uh, all to ourselves tonight.”

I didn’t notice that little pause at the time. I’d remember it clearly later though.

“Great!” I replied. Last night I would’ve said this in a sullen mutter under my breath. Now though I said this with enough enthusiasm to make my cousins laugh.

“What about my pants though?” I continued. “Can you grab them for me?”

“You got clean pants back at the house, don’t you?” asked Randy.

“Uh, yeah!”

“Got anything important in these?” asked Walter. “Wallet, money, keys?”

“Uh, no!”

“Then you can leave ‘em here.” He replied simply as he put the leash around my neck. “Ain’t nobody going to find them out here ‘cept David and the others, and THEY won’t bother ‘em.”

“I’ll go fetch your glasses though,” offered Randy. He ran over to where Ron had tossed my glasses (Al had of course already taken back his own before he left) and brought them back while Walter helped put my sneakers back on. But instead of putting my glasses back on my face, the two boys made me kneel. I quickly guessed that I was going to be a camel again, but wasn’t sure which one was going to be my rider. It was Randy.

I should mention that I had caught up with them somewhat in the size department since that first time I visited when they wrestled with me. Back then Randy was a few inches taller than me but about the same weight, while Walter was moderately taller and heavier than Randy. I’d say that back then I was 5’ 0” and 120 pounds, Randy was 5’ 5” and the same weight, and Walter was about 5’ 9” and weighed about 140 pounds or a little less. Now, at 13, I was 5’ 6” and weighed 170 (though that included some excess fat), Randy was also 5’ 6” and weighed at most 130, and Walter was 5’ 10” and weighed maybe 150. So though they were one and two years older than me they were no longer bigger, heavier, or stronger than I - though I still couldn’t have taken either alone in a fight. I now outweighed Randy by 40 pounds despite being no taller, and though he could out-do me easily in either boxing or wrestling, I was able to carry him on my shoulders – if not as easily as I carried David’s younger brothers before – without staggering and falling from his weight.

So away we went back to their house… Randy riding on my shoulders (after putting my glasses back on me so I could see) and carrying a small paper bag he’d brought with him, while Walter led me along on a leash. I began to start a conversation about something – I forget about what, now – when Randy interrupted me. “Wait, I have a little surprise for you.” He said to me with that smirking tone of voice again that – along with the distinctive sound of something being taken out of a crinkling paper bag - set my internal alarm ringing loudly inside my head.

Before I could ask about – and likely object to – Randy’s surprise, I suddenly saw a dark object abruptly being draped across the front of my face, pulled in tightly to press against my mouth, and rapidly and expertly fastened by straps and buckles at the back of my head. “What the fhaaa - *UCK!* I went before all ability for coherent speech was abruptly taken away from me. My subsequent MUMPHs were drowned out by laughter.

Randy had placed some kind of muzzle gag on me! It completely covered my mouth but left my nose unobstructed for easy breathing (as long as I didn’t catch a cold!). It didn’t interfere with my glasses, and was held on by straps that ran along the sides and top of my head and buckled in back. It must’ve been difficult fastening it on the back of my back while riding my shoulders as it was right in front of his belly, but that limber grasshopper managed it quickly and efficiently.

I tried to say “Come on, you guys. Enough is enough. Take this damned thing off me.” All I managed were a few grunts that simply got laughed at. So I gave up sullen silence as I continued to be ridden and led along the homeward path.

But my ordeal for the afternoon wasn’t over yet. Just as we reached the end of the trail at Aunt Yvette’s backyard, about 200 feet from the house, we stopped and Randy climbed off. He stayed behind me and out of sight and suddenly I heard that paper bag crinkling again. ‘Uh oh, what now?’ I thought to myself and began to turn around, but Walter forestalled me by suddenly reaching out and snatching the glasses right off my face.

My attention was momentarily diverted by my older cousin as my younger cousin got right behind and – quite literally – pulled the wool right over my eyes. Before I knew it I was not only bound and gagged but blindfolded too! I mumphed quite insistently, but this got me nowhere of course.

Walter and Randy each locked one of my bound arms in theirs and led me into the backyard in a fashion identical to the way Ron and Al had dragged me into the pond for a swim. I assumed that they were taking me directly to the backdoor of their house and so put up no resistance; I just wanted this prank of theirs over with.

After a seemingly long journey through total darkness, we abruptly stopped – and a moment later I felt one of the handcuffs being taken off my left wrist. “Good, we’ve reached the doorstep,” thought I. But someone’s hands were still firmly holding mine in theirs and behind my back, and suddenly someone else’s hands were pushing me gently but insistently backward. I felt my back hit something solid and rounded and rough on my bare skin, and then my wrists were pulled back well behind me and the handcuffs closed back around my left wrist. I tugged, and found my wrists fastened together and immovably wrapped around a tall cylindrical object.

I had been handcuffed to a tree!

Oh my God! Don’t leave me tied to a tree all night! Not in my underwear! PLEASE!!!

I tried to say all this, but of course all that could be heard from me were mere grunts. All I heard from them was more laughter… merry rather than derisive, which gave me some hope at first that this would not be a long-term prank. This hope began to fade though as I heard their footsteps retreating in the grass, and I mumphed more strenuously than ever.

I was just resigning myself to a night of lonely Hell in the backyard when I heard a strange squeaking noise somewhere in the same direction my cousins had gone. I was still trying to figure out what it was when I felt myself being sprayed by a powerful jet of cold water. Now I knew what that sound had been: the garden hose being turned on.

“Time for your bath,” Randy yelled practically in my ear as I felt the spraying subside. The next thing I knew, I felt two sets of hands using sponges and brushes to scrub all the parts of my legs and body that they could reach like I was an automobile at a car wash – or a DOG!

“This is how we used to wash mom’s collie dog,” said Randy, confirming my suspicions. “We even had to tie it to this tree to keep it from running off!”

I’d been muzzled, led on a leash, and petted like a dog today. Now I was being washed like one too. If they tried to feed me dog food too, I was going to BITE somebody!!!

“Nice doggy!” I heard Randy’s voice close to my ear, and then someone’s hand patting and rubbing the back of my head. Grrrrr!

“That dumb kid just had to use a magic marker on him; didn’t he?” asked Walter with a growl in his own voice as he or Randy scrubbed my legs vigorously. It felt nowhere near as nice as Al’s leg massages earlier.

“Yeah,” replied Randy. “We should be making HIM wash Jason off!”

Didn’t it occur to them to just let me wash MYSELF off, for crying out loud?! In a bathtub? Indoors? Like a human being?

“Well, he’ll get his comeuppance, won’t he?” said Walter, mysteriously.

“Yeah,” laughed Randy with his jackass bray.

Suddenly they hosed me down again. Then they removed one of my handcuffs, turned me around, and re-cuffed me so that now I was hugging the tree again with my chest instead of my back. Then they hosed me again. And scrubbed my back and the backs of my legs. And hosed me off some more. Then they undid (finally) both my handcuffs. They toweled me dry – rather roughly but thoroughly. All this time they were oblivious to my grunts of pure outrage. Then they led me away again – free of handcuffs but still hobbled and blindfolded and with my arms in solid grips.

They sure took their tie-up games seriously.

I was led to the doorsteps and aided in stepping into the house. I was led to where I knew the laundry room was and felt the leg cuffs being removed. “Okay, take off that wet underwear and hand it to me!” Walter told me when we reached it. I objected, but Walter said, “Just do it! We aren’t looking! The light’s not even on in here.”

Not having heard the click of a light switch, I decided to take their word for it. So I took off the wet underwear and handed it to him. I heard him open a laundry basket and what presumably was my underwear hastily tossed into it. Then I heard a cupboard opened and something pulled out and handed to me; a clean, dry set of underwear. Walter didn’t bother to tell me to put it on; I simply did it without coaxing.

“Need to make a pit stop?” asked Randy. “I might add that this is the only opportunity to get one for a long while; probably until morning.”

I wanted one regardless. I hesitated only because of the lack of privacy, but my cousins swore that they weren’t watching and that the light was off regardless. I decided that I had no choice but to take their word for it… but it was sure humiliating (which was undoubtedly the whole idea). At last my hands and feet were free so I needed only minimal assistance – mainly with finding the toilet and the paper, as of course I was blindfolded. I finished as quickly as I could while being thorough enough to not need a repeat anytime soon.

“Okay, off we go again,” said Walter as two arms gripped my own again and hustled me along out of the bathroom to the stairs, up the stairs, and down the hallway. Talk about Deja vu! I expected to be turned right into Randy’s room, but instead we turned left and entered Walter’s. A light was clicked on, but of course that didn’t do ME any good. I was taken further into the room a few feet and then stopped.

“Turn around,” bade Walter. I did so. “Back up a step,” he continued. I did so. “You’re right in front of my bed. Sit down.” It never even occurred to me that it might be a prank to make me fall on my butt to the floor. I trusted my cousins even under these bizarre circumstances not to trick me... at least, not in a way that could hurt me while I was helpless. So I sat without hesitation and landed on a soft mattress as I expected. “Lie down and don’t move!”

Of course I knew by now what to expect next – more or less. But instead of my hands being handcuffed together at the headboard and my feet on the other head, my arms and legs were spread as far apart as possible into a wide X and I was tied spread-eagled to the four corners of what felt like a twin-sized bed – still blindfolded and gagged. And then, to make things even worse, they put a set of headphones on me and I was forced to listen to some radio station playing nothing but Gospel Music – at nearly full volume!

NO! NO! ANYTHING BUT THIS! HAVE MERCY, YOU GUYS!!!

And then – I heard them walk away, click off the light, and close the door behind them.

“Hey, wait a minute! I’m hungry! Don’t I get something to eat?!” I thought into the dark silence. But silence was my only reply from without, and hymn after god-awful hymn ringing through my eardrums within.

Every so often I heard snatched of muffled conversation from downstairs, but could not make out anything distinctly through the 'music'.

Then, after an Eternity in Hell hearing praises to Jesus, I heard the bedroom door open and then close, and dimly heard a click of a light switch and then footsteps approaching. A single heavier body (wearing boxer shorts and socks from the feel of it) climbed up onto the bed and on top of me in a sit/kneeling position as I lay there listening to Amazing Grace. From the weight, I figured it must be Walter; it WAS his room and it was too heavy for Randy – yet somehow it didn’t quite FEEL like Walter. The thighs against the bare skin of my chest felt smoother and thicker.

Mercifully I felt someone’s hands yank off those accursed headphones from my ears (the last words I heard were, appropriately enough, 'saved a wretch like meeee') and toss them aside. Then I heard a familiar voice tell me, “I hope you got plenty of rest. It’s probably all I’m letting you have tonight.”

It was David!

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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 8

I ‘mumphed’ to David through the muzzle-gag; trying to virtually beg him to take the gag and blindfold off of me. Of course, all that came out were incomprehensible noises as the gag effectively rendered speech impossible. Although I’m sure even an utter moron could not have possibly failed to understand the message I wanted to convey anyway, David acted serenely oblivious to my wishes.

Well, the wishes I just stated, anyway.

“Sorry, Jason,” I heard David’s voice say to me. “I think you look kind of cute the way you are now, and it’s nice to not have you spoil everything by talking too much.”

MUMPH! I don’t talk too much!!!

“No, the gag and blindfold stay on for now,” he continued. “Some things are best left unheard, and some other things are best left unseen.” He added mysteriously.

I suddenly felt his hands and fingers gently rub along my ribs and chest and thought he was about to tickle-torture me. But it was only mildly tickling. Instead, it was a gentle caress more like a light massage than a tickle. His unseen fingers played gently all around my chest, sides, shoulders, arms, and neck – and what few parts of my face still remained uncovered by the gag and blindfold. Sometimes I felt him shift his weight and then his fingers massage my thighs as well. My treacherous groin noise to the occasion, as if hoping to get its share of the attention. It got a gentle laugh from David and a few light flicks from his forefingers, but to its (my) disappointment that was about all it got!

David had a point about some things left unseen. Because of my partial sensory deprivation, my already sensitive sense of touch was considerably heightened all over my body. His light and skillful finger caresses threatened to give me an orgasm, and I started thrashing around in my bonds like I was being electrocuted. Between the skillfully tied bonds and David’s body weight pinning my abdomen down however, I couldn’t move much. But I could move enough so that the sensation of his body weight pinning me down thrilled me even more. And the way his caresses progressed indicated to me that he found my attempts at bucking underneath him to be exciting too.

I think this is the first time in my life that I imagined someone doing something like this while riding me somewhat further down than on my belly – but unfortunately THAT didn’t happen! I would have surely exploded in my underwear if it had; but it would’ve probably been worth it.

Gradually his caresses turned into deliberate tickles, and my moans of pleasure turned into giggles of muffled laughter followed soon enough by louder muffled pleas for mercy. When he relentlessly tickled my underarms (fully and unavoidably exposed by my spread-eagle tie to his questing fingers) I began whining like a dog to get him to stop. I guess that satisfied him because he finally stopped with a gentle laugh that I found much more pleasant than Randy’s sardonic braying donkey laugh.

Though David stopped tickling me, I continued to whine like a begging dog in hopes he’d take my blindfold and gag off; I wanted to see him and talk to him, darn it! I especially wanted another close look at that nice body of his – especially if he was shirtless; I was perhaps instinctively certain that he was.

“Got to pee or potty?” he asked me, at least deigning to find out what I wanted.

I shook my head no; though if my cousins hadn’t given me that bathroom break I’d have probably already wet myself in the excitement of the last few minutes.

“Hungry?” he asked. Well, I was, and nodded my head slowly enough to indicate that this wasn’t my first priority.

“Hmm…” went David, as if thinking about it. As if the next question wasn’t so obvious!

“Want to be alone?” he asked me then.

WHAT?!! NOOOOOOO! I shook my head as vigorously as I could.

I guess he decided he’d been cruel enough. “Want the gag off?” he asked me.

YES! I nodded vigorously.

“Want the blindfold off?” he asked.

YES again.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll remove one and ONLY one. Which is it? Nod your head for removing the blindfold and shake your head to remove the gag.”

Well, maybe he HADN’T decided he’d been cruel enough. My God, what a tough choice: To talk to a beautiful boy I could not see or see a beautiful boy I could not talk to!

I finally decided a picture was worth a thousand words and nodded my head.

True to his word, David reached down to remove my blindfold. It took him a few seconds to undo the knot that Randy had tied in it, but he managed it. He removed it only partway at first – thoughtfully giving my eyes time to adjust to the light so that I wasn’t dazzled by the glare. I was dazzled; not by the glare but the sight of him on top of me as my eyes adjusted to the light. I got an excellent close-up view of his upper body because he was putting my glasses on my face (he’d brought them into the room with him) at the same time before straightened back up to rest his hands on his knees.

As I thought, he was shirtless. All he wore were gym shorts (not boxers as I’d first thought) and a pair of tube socks; the same ones he wore before (I recognized the pattern formed by some of the grass stains from when I saw him previously).

“Better?” he asked me. I nodded my head vigorously.

“So! What would you like to talk about?” he asked with a grin.

*Groan!* Everyone was a comedian. Still, I tried my best. I *mumphed* and nodded my head toward him. I wanted to know more about him.

“Me? Oh! You want to know what I’m doing here?” he asked.

I nodded. Close enough.

“Walter and Randy invited me over after we finished our Soccer match!” David told me. “We all saw how you looked at me when we met and…” (My face must’ve blushed deep red at this point) “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you. Anyway, we thought we’d spring a little surprise on you. I made that gag you’re wearing myself, you know. Yeah, I saw something like it in some magazine I once found sticking out of someone’s trashcan and figured it’d be handy to use on my brothers. Hope you enjoy it as much as they have.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of THAT remark and couldn’t respond to it anyway other than to grunt wordlessly. On the other hand, I felt strangely excited to be wearing something that David had made himself – no matter what it was.

As David was telling me about himself, his brothers, and my cousins, he sat up on my belly and pulled his socks off and tossed them on the floor. Then he stood up and made to pull his shorts off. I became instantly excited… could it be?!...

Not quite; he was wearing a set of Speedos underneath. Still, I thought as he sat back down – knees up this time – that the view was improved. Though David was about 5’ 4’ and weighed about 130, putting his whole weight on me was not at all uncomfortable thanks to my lying on a soft, yielding mattress this time rather than on hard, somewhat bumpy ground. In fact, it was quite enjoyable.

At about this time I heard the doorbell ring downstairs, but David seemed unconcerned. I could hear someone casually go downstairs to answer the door but could hear nothing else until someone came walking back up the stairs just as casually… though there seemed a strange effect like there were two people coming back up. But it was hard to tell and I heard nothing more, so I thought it was nothing and forgot about it for a while.

David was telling me how he got into tie-up-and-torment games with my cousins and later his kid brothers when Walter and Randy abruptly walked into the room. Both were also wearing nothing more than Speedos as they walked over to the bed and sat on me behind David, who moved up to sit/kneel on my chest to make room for them. Walter was carrying a six-pack of cola and a stack of paper plates. Randy was carrying a large box of pizza that had apparently just been delivered; which answered the minor mystery of who had rung the doorbell. I wondered inanely if Randy or Walter had answered the door dressed in only his Speedos. Anyway, Randy got on my belly and gave David a slice of pizza on a paper plate, while Walter sat on my thighs and handed him a can of cola.

“How are you guys doing?” asked Randy, biting into a slice of pizza of his own.

Fine,” replied David before swigging down some cola.

I stared upward at Randy with pleading eyes and began to drool. Then I began to whine.

“What’s the matter, Jase?” David asked with a goofy grin on his face as he took another bit of his pizza. As if he didn’t know. Feed me, dammit!

“I think he wants you to squeeze his face between your legs,” said Randy. “He LOVES it when WE do that!”

Stinking traitor! But then, when David (giggling merrily) proceeded to do just that, my resentment toward Randy’s lack of respect for my dignity (yeah, I know how kooky that sounds under the circumstances) faded. I even forgot I was hungry and thirsty for a while even while I watched those three greedy pigs scarf down pizza and chug those sodas. How on Earth did Walter and Randy stay so thin if they often ate like that?! They were eating more than I normally would, for God’s sake!

Seeing that I wasn’t likely to get any food or drink if they didn’t share some with me soon, I mumphed through the gag again.

“Now what do you want?” asked David, not unkindly.

“I think the sight of us eating is bothering him,” said Walter.

“Should I blindfold him again?” asked David.

“Naw, just sit on his face like your brothers did!” said Walter. “That’ll quiet him down.”

HUH??? I *mumphed*even more frantically than ever in case David took Walter’s suggestion seriously. Apparently he did, for he got up, turned around while still on his knees, pulled off my glasses to keep from damaging them, and proceeded to come back down. *MUMPH!* *MUMPH!* I went, but it was to no avail.

David settled slowly but firmly down on my face… to the near-hysterical laughter of Walter and Randy. Although heavier than his two younger brothers, David’s weight was less uncomfortable by itself than theirs had been because I had a thicker pillow under my head and a soft mattress between that. But at the same time, I was gagged and breathing was totally impossible while he was doing this.

However, David wasn’t ignorant of this. He sat only 10 to 15 seconds at a time before giving me a breathing break for a few seconds and then sitting back down!

It was scary and exhilarating at the same time. All the same, I wanted it to stop. With all that pizza he’s eating, what if he starts passing gas?!

*Mumph!* I went again.

“If you complain one more time you’re going to get some sore balls!” warned Randy.

Huh? Sour balls? Candy?

I went “Mph?”

WHACK!

*MUMPH!!!* OWW! No, he meant sore balls all right! He whacked me in the nuts!

WHACK! Randy went again in response to the previous cry. Somehow I managed to choke back another muffled yelp for fear he would keep this up so long I’d go insane.

Meanwhile David kept bobbing up and down gently on my face like a yo-yo before finally having some compassion on me and stopping. He turned back around to resume sitting on my chest – knees up this time to put all his weight on me.

“Still hungry?” David asked me. I hesitated to answer; suspecting a trick. But he seemed honestly sympathetic and concerned now so I tentatively nodded in the affirmative.

David removed the muzzle gag from my face and then replaced my glasses.

“Want something to eat?” he asked me.

“Yes. Please!” I replied; waggling my jaw to get the numbness and soreness out of it.

David held up the last remaining (and by now rather cold) slice of pizza to the mouth and let me eat. Behind him, I heard Walter and Randy whispering to each other. I suspected they were planning some new devilry to torment me. I was right, but didn’t find out what it was until the next day.

David gave me a fresh can of soda to drink from (Bracing my head up with his hand so I could drink without getting slopped on) and fed me the remaining pizza until it was gone. With all the excitement, my appetite was satisfied with the one slice (which was large).

“Well, let’s go see to our other guests,” suggested Walter as he got up. Randy nodded in agreement and followed as Walter opened the door and stepped out of the room.

Then Randy paused at the doorway and turned to David.

“Coming?” Randy asked him.

“Be with you in a few minutes,” replied David. “I’m going to make Jase a little more comfortable first.”

“Okay,” replied Randy as he stepped out.

“Walter said there are other guests?” I asked David just as he got up off me himself. “What other guests? Who’s here?”

“Brian and Michael,” replied David as he went to the foot of the bed and pulled off the sneakers I was still wearing on my feet. “I told Brian to get a pizza here around nine o’clock, which he did. Meanwhile I brought Michael here with me, bound and gagged like you were when Walt and Brian brought you to the pond this morning. We tied him to Randy’s bed and played around with him a bit before I came in to see you. Brian brought the pizza while I was with you. I imagine he’s been tied to Randy’s bed beside Michael ever since, and that Walter and Randy are tickle-tormenting them right now.”

Now that he mentioned it, I could hear what sounded like muffled screams coming from somewhere, and some occasional laughter from Walter or Randy.

“Before I join them, here’s something of mine to think of me by,” said David… whereupon he took his discarded shorts and wrapped them around my head! My muffled protests went unheeded as he secured the shorts so that they could not be shaken off. It was tied in such a way that I could get some air through my nose, and I could breathe through the thin, porous fabric easily enough… but I didn’t really want to more than I could help! The shorts were grimy and soaked with sweat and – since it was the seat that was pressed against my face – it stank of various odors best left un-described. In addition, he stuffed one of his dirty socks into my mouth and gagged me with the other! Nowhere near as effective as the muzzle gag had been, but effective enough to keep me relatively quiet from the other room.

I could dimly see him through the fabric as we waved to me. “I’ll be back in an hour or two,” he said to me cheerfully as he clicked off the light. Then he closed the door gently and I was left alone.

Mercifully he had not elected to repeat the Gospel Radio torture, so I promptly fell asleep to await his return. Not even the occasional gag-muffled scream or one of Randy’s braying laughs disturbed me while I remained alone. Fortunately, he must’ve forgotten his threat (?) not to let me get any more rest that night.

He rather made up for it a bit later though!

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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 9

The first warning that I was no longer alone in the room was the by-now-familiar sensation of someone kneel-sitting on my stomach. I woke up just as unseen hands removed David’s gym shorts from my face. However, even with them gone I could not see very much. My glasses were off, and the room light was off as well. The only light was the light of the moon shining in though the open window on one side and the light of the hallway light shining though the crack left by the closed bedroom door on the other. But from the blurred silhouette I could see so close to me, I was sure that it was David.

“Have a good sleep?” asked David’s distinctive voice, proving me correct. “I hope so, because now that really IS all the rest you’ll get!”

“What time is it?” I asked, unsure if I wanted it to be earlier (leaving David more time for whatever plans he had for me) or later (leaving him less).

“Just past midnight,” came the answer. “I left you alone for two hours, though I peeked in every few minutes to make sure you weren’t having trouble breathing with those shorts tied to your face. But you slept so peacefully that I don’t think you noticed even once.”

“I didn’t,” I admitted. “Thanks for checking to make sure, though.”

“Well, it’d be no fun tormenting a victim who’d passed out, now would it?” he answered with a faked edge of impending villainy in his voice.

Before I could reply David raised his knees into a squatting position to get them out of his way (and incidentally putting more of his weight on my belly) and began tickling my armpits. My words were choked out by my laughter.

David stopped tickling me. Then he inched forward until he knelt-sat upon my chest and stroked my face. He simply smiled down at me but didn’t say a thing for a long while. Then he moved even further up my chest until the front of his Speedos was literally touching the tip of my chin.

“Guess what we’re going to do now,” he said to me.

“Wh-wh-wh-wha-what?” I asked nervously, staring directly at his Speedos with my eyes as wide as saucers feeling like they were bulging as much as what they were looking at!

“You’ve been tied four hours, so it’s time to give you a break,” David told me as he abruptly got up off me with a laugh. The cruel son of a …

“If I set you free all at once for a while, will you promise not to try to avoid a re-tie; or will I have to settle for leaving you with only one limb untied at a time?” he asked me as he stood beside the bed.

“I promise; no avoidance,” I told him with unmistakable honesty. I think I was hoping he’d sit on my chest again and this time do what I thought he was going to do for real. I had never done such a thing before but had thought about it a lot recently, and I was very curious about what it was like.

David untied me and helped me sit up in case I got dizzy or wobbly from being tied so long, but I enjoyed his assistance rather than needed it. He turned on the light and inspected my ankles and wrists, and asked me if I felt numbness anywhere. I didn’t, and we were both satisfied that I was not bruised nor had rope-burns that were deep or raw.

David was not as stringent with his prisoners as my cousins seemed to be. He allowed me to go take a bathroom break unescorted (at least past the bathroom door) or unassisted, and I took a quick sponge-bath, brushed my teeth, and put on some deodorant to freshen up. I learned later that he extended his kid brothers the same courtesies when he tied them up too and insisted that the other boys do the same when THEY had his brothers visit or 'kidnapped' for a sleepover.

“Are Walt and Randy going to be re-joining us tonight?” I asked David as we walked back up to my older cousin’s room.

“Naw,” replied David. “They’ve got Brian and Michael for company while I have you. Don’t worry though; they’re not as hard on them as they’ve been with you. They’ve given you the works because you’re new and because you won’t be around all the time to play our games with. Besides, more likely than not your cousins are the ones who are tied up right now. Want to peek in and see?”

So we looked in. Sure enough, it was Walter and Randy who were tied onto the bed rather the two much smaller boys. All four wore nothing but Speedos (not counting the ropes and gags worn by Randy and Walter). The ties the smaller boys selected were different than anything that had been used on me so far. Randy and Walter had their hands tied together at the head of the bed, but their legs had been arched over their bodies and their feet together to the head of the bed as well. It was not quite a hogtie, as their feet were tied to the top of the headband about thirty inches over their heads, but it was stringent enough to look uncomfortable all by themselves with their legs held suspended over their abdomens. However, their situation was even more stringent in that the smaller boys were sitting on the back of the larger boys’ legs near the knee, putting added pressure on their spines. Both Randy and Walter were sweating heavily and their faces were flushed. The smaller boys were also gleefully spanking their captives’ fannies with ping-pong rackets held in their hands. And some odd-looking gags were tied onto Walter and Randy’s faces… and those things looked very familiar. I took a closer look…

“Are those my sneakers tied onto their faces?” I asked incredulously.

“Yep,” replied Brian, looking back toward me and bouncing up and down on Walter’s inner thighs, eliciting some patient groans. And so they were; the insides tied over their mouths and noises so that they were forced to breathe the foul air inside (which of course was possible only because of the other small openings elsewhere.

“They were the smelliest things we could find,” put in Michael cheerfully as he swatted Randy’s defenseless behind with gusto.

Walter looked at me with a glare that promised dire vengeance on me the next time he was free to get his hands on me! I gulped audibly.

“Don’t worry,” David said to me as we backed out of Randy’s room and re-entered Walter’s. “It’s all in good clean, dirty fun. No one gets hurt, and Michael and Brian get to be on top as often as not so they have at least as much fun as we do.”

That was good to know; I had commenced to wonder how Michael and Brian hadn’t become emotional basket cases from being tied and tormented every day by other boys so much bigger than they were. It’s so much different somehow when the captors are smaller and younger than you are – even when the tie-ups and torments are the same. Being a captive of smaller boys just isn’t as scary as being captive of older ones… even when the younger ones are strangers and the older ones are trusted friends or relatives. At least, that was true when I was a kid myself.

We returned to Walter’s bed and I lay in it for David to tie me back down. But he bade me to turn over to lie on my stomach rather than my back. Straddling my back, he removed my glasses because of my awkward position and then tied my hands separately to the sturdy metal posts of the bed, and then did the same to my feet while sitting on my calves. Once he was finished, he put that muzzle gag back on me; silencing me for the duration.

Once he was finished with that, David got something I could not see from the top of a drawer and sat down on my thighs facing forward. I wondered what he planned doing from way over there when I suddenly felt my underwear being pulled down!

What the Devil?! He – he wasn’t going to do what I was thinking, was he? I had been muzzled like a dog, leashed like a dog, walked like a dog, bathed like a dog… was I about to get something else doggie-style too?!

I am unsure to this day whether it was fright or eagerness which I felt more. In any case, the results weren’t what I was expecting. Instead, WHAP! I felt and heard a smooth, hard object spank me in the butt! I mumphed into my gag as loudly as I could. This got me no sympathy, just another WHAP! And another… and another…

“What the Hell are you doing?” I tried to cry out through the gag. Tears were coming to my eyes; half blinding me.

“This is my favorite torture to use on Walter and Randy,” explained David – evidently guessing the meaning behind of my muffled yelps. “Spanking them with the same hairbrush their mom used to spank them when they were little kids. As you can guess, they didn’t like that too much.”

I could imagine. My Aunt Yvette was a tall, thin, but very strong woman. As a girl she made a living pounding the heels onto shoes with a mallet! She had a very strong arm at that time still; I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had won a round of Ring the Bell at a carnival. For that matter, she is in her mid-80’s as I write this (2010) and still goes bowling twice a week and still wins games against people half or even only a quarter her age! Her bowling balls are said to go so fast down those lanes they get speeding tickets. Okay, I’m kidding about that last, but I’m not kidding when I say her spankings must have been harsh affairs. No wonder my cousins were well behaved around her – if ONLY around her! In contrast, my mom wasn’t so robust and the one time she spanked me (I was 5) hardly hurt at all.

Well, David’s spanking me with that hairbrush hurt a LOT!! I even began to cry and thrashed around – in futility, as always. David had a pretty strong arm himself and plenty of gusto! Yet at the same time I didn’t want him to stop! I wondered then if my cousins felt the same way, since they still apparently let him tie them up and do it to them.

David swatted me thirteen times and then stopped. “Happy Birthday!” he said.

That’s right; that day just coming was my 13th birthday (what with everything from dad's sudden illness on, I had somehow forgotten it), and so he had given me a birthday spanking of 13 swats!

I thought then that the torment was over. But then David got up and stepped out of the room a moment. I had a dreadful feeling that I knew why.

Sure enough he returned with his brother Brian. David sat on my shoulders while Brian gave me thirteen more swats – not as hard as David’s but painful enough as my rump was still sore from David’s round. Then Brian put the hair brush down, wished me a giggling Happy Birthday, and left. Then of course in walked Michael and I got another thirteen swats – weaker but even more painful than before. My butt must’ve been beet red by then; but at least the ordeal must be over now since Walter and Randy were still tied up.

I had just finished this thought when in walked Randy. Oh my God! The kids had freed my cousins. Oh God have mercy!

Naturally Randy whacked harder than Brian and Michael and probably as hard as David. And then, worst of all, came Walter; and with his strong arm I felt like my behind was trapped on the top of a blacksmith’s anvil. My whole body now felt like one huge ache in my sore behind! I screamed into my gag, but except for David gently petting my head as I took my punishment I got no mercy or sympathy. I struggled against the ropes, but they held me fast; I couldn't budge my hands at all.

BTW later that morning my mom called on the phone to also wish me a Happy Birthday. It almost gave me the willies as I halfway expected to get my behind pummelled again! She was sorry she could not spend my birthday with me but I truthfully told her that it was okay.

After the other four left to resume whatever games they were playing, David got up, closed the door, turned out the light, and then sat down on my lower back facing my feet. He then proceeded to give me a ‘butt rub’ similar to the one Ron gave me before. I don’t know if David was even more skillful at it than Ron, or if it was because my butt started out hurting lots more than it hurt the other time, but the feeling that massage gave me was incredible. It was almost worth the spanking that preceded it.

Almost.

When he finished, David turned around and lay down right on top of me – I in just my briefs and he in his Speedos. I could distinctly feel the bulge in his front pressed against the back of my briefs. I am sure it was no accident. He lay on me that way for quite some time, gently stroking my hair and my face, as if working up the courage to do something more. I think he even kissed my ear, though I am not certain of this… I never asked.

But, being gagged, I could neither encourage or discourage him, and eventually there was no follow-up at all. If he had un-gagged me and asked me what I wanted… I’m not sure how I would have answered.

Before I fell asleep though I imagined all sorts of follow up; with David and with all the other boys I met that day too. I – Hmmm, how do I say this without being neither crude nor too graphic? Well, I imagined myself as another member of the gang. I imagined possibilities that might be Greek to you. I’d get some French lessons, and maybe kiss all the other members. And I hoped the fact that it was the summer of ’69 would have a special significance for me.

Well, it did of course – just not THAT way.

Had I not been gagged, I might have offered some encouragement to David. Whether that would’ve made things better or worse though I will never know. Perhaps he wouldn’t have had the courage to do it. I might not have had the courage to ask him, simply because I couldn’t have stopped him if I changed my mind after he started. Or worse it might turn out that this was not what he had in mind at all, be revolted, and leave. I doubted this then and even more doubt it now – but I just wasn’t sure!

I guess David wasn’t ready to go that far – and therefore probably neither was I.

But the past 24 hours had certainly been revelation enough. And I still had two weeks to spend with my new friends. Maybe, with a little more time and getting to know one another, we’d be ready for even more. But for now, it was enough just to be together.

And so, still lying on top of me, David fell asleep and I soon followed.

He had promised twice not to let me have any rest that night; of all the promises he has ever made to me (and there quite a few over the following years), these were the only ones that he ever failed to keep.

As for what we eventually did do together… that’s a story for another time.


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Jason Toddman
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Post by Jason Toddman »

Part 10

I awoke somewhat later to feel hands gently rubbing my wrists. It was still dark; in fact, it was darker because the moon no longer shone in through the window. However, though somewhat groggy I awakened enough to realize that it was David (who was kneeling on my back rather than lying on it now) untying my wrists and rubbing them to restore any lost circulation. He was doing it so gently I almost slept through right through it. Apparently he wanted to let me sleep and he quietly apologized for disturbing me, but I was glad I woke up.

As I was awake anyway he got off me to untie my ankles while I checked my wrists myself by feel; neither of us wanted to turn on the light. David had tied me quite well; there was hardly any numbness or stiffness at all except for my arms and shoulders where they’d been relatively immobile for so long. Then, after a while of leaving me free and by mutual consent, David re-tied me laying on my back, lay back down on top of me, and we went back to sleep.

I awoke to some gentle slaps to my face, followed by two hands gripping my face and shaking it sideways. I looked to see David kneel-sitting on the midline between my chest and belly and smiling down at me. He still wore only his Speedos. It was morning, and the sun was shining brightly outside. It looked like it’d be a beautiful day.

“Good morning, sleepy-head!” greeted David as he reached to his side, took my glasses off the night-stand nearby, and set them on my face. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a birthday breakfast in bed before being untied.”

“Sure!” I replied. That’d be a new experience. Though often tied in bed by my brother or – during sleepovers – by other boys, I’d always been set free before breakfast time because there were always adults in the house on previous occasions and no one ever wanted me to be seen by them while tied up.

“Would you like some orange juice?” asked David with a tone of voice and smile that made me immediately suspicious of a trick.

“Okay,” I replied hesitantly, wondering what he was up to. Had I been more awake or a trifle more experienced with these guys, I’d have figured it out before answering.

Grinning from ear to ear, David immediately got straight up on his knees, moved forward a bit, and put his hand to his Speedos is if about to pull them down.

The previous day my eyes would’ve bugged out and I probably would’ve yelled and thrashed around like a fly caught in a spider’s web. Now though, I just simply stared up at his – uh - then my eyes snapped up further and I looked at him straight in the eye. “You… wouldn’t… DARE!” I said as flatly as I could. Perhaps that was a dangerous and stupid thing to say under the circumstances, but I was reasonably sure that I was right.

“Why not?” David asked with a sinister leer as he actually pulled his Speedos down enough to expose some pubic hairs and put one hand inside as if to pull something out.

“Because Walter would KILL you for messing up his bed!” I answered simply.

David paused as if seriously considering that, and then – seemingly reluctantly – straightened his Speedos up again and stepped off the bed to stand up beside me. “Yep!” you win. I don’t dare!” he replied simply. Then he stood there and just smiled for a few seconds. Then he said, “So I’ll just wait until I have you outside sometime!” Then he clasped his hands like a cartoon villain and laughed like Yosemite Sam as he opened the door and stepped out. I heard him running down the stairs as I wondered whether he really meant THAT or not.

Well he never actually said he was going to do anything, so I never counted it as a broken or unfulfilled promise.

Then again, as it developed, he may have implied one thing but fulfilled the implication with something considerably less gross; as I was discover before very much longer.

I heard David conversing with Randy and Walter downstairs (they must’ve already been down there before I awoke) but couldn’t make out many words. However, I heard quite a bit of laughter and Randy’s donkey laugh a few times, and I knew enough to know by now that THIS was never a good sign. They were up to something! I just lay there in bed (as if I had a choice, I was still securely tied) wondering what devilry they were planning as I heard them puttering around downstairs. I heard various kitchen noises however and caught the scent of fried bacon so I knew they were actually fixing breakfast at least.

Eventually I heard David’s footsteps coming back up the stairs at a plodding pace, and in he came with a breakfast tray loaded with a plate with four pancakes (covered in maple syrup), some bacon, a muffin, and a glass of (real) orange juice. David set it down on a drawer, took a placemat from the tray, walked over to me, eased my head up as far as he comfortably could, and set the mat under my head. “To keep the sheets from getting messy,” he told me as he walked back to grab the tray. He somehow managed to get into bed and straddle my stomach and set the tray down on my chest without spilling any of its contents anywhere.

He cut up the pancakes as I watched, swirled a skewered forkful about in the syrup a bit, and held the fork out to my mouth – dripping some syrup on me in the process. Without complaint though, I ate the morsel as if I were feeding myself like a normal person. He stabbed another forkful, swirled it about, and dripped more syrup on me as I ate again. I began to wonder if the maple syrup dribbling was deliberate.

He held a piece of bacon to me without making a mess though. Also, he had a second small empty glass to pour the juice into only a mouthful at a time so he could give me sips without spilling a drop of that on me. So I figured I was being unjust to him. But he couldn’t seem to manage to feed me the pancakes without dribbling syrup on my face, neck, or chest. None of it was getting on Walter’s bed-sheets thanks to the placemat set under me – and somehow not a drop landed on David’s bare legs; but plenty of syrup was sure getting dribbled on ME.

“You should have gotten me a bib!” I told David a trifle rudely.

“Maybe!” he replied with a mischievous smile. Then he waved a forkful over my face and dribbled maple syrup all over my forehead, and then I KNEW it had been deliberate all along! But I just heaved a weary sigh and let him continue to feed me… after all, what else could I do? Besides, I was hungry, he was just playing a mild and painless prank, and I just couldn’t get mad at him. Anyhow, I’d be able to wash it off afterward.

But it turned out that David and my cousins had their own ideas about THAT!

After a breakfast as leisurely as it was messy, David got off me and wiped my chin with a napkin – getting me only messier than before. I snapped something rude to him in response, whereupon he dug out the muzzle gag from somewhere and fastened it on me despite my pleas for mercy and heart-felt apologies for cussing at him.

Once he was finished gagging me (and laughing at me), he casually emptied what syrup was left on the plate all over my chest and belly with a wicked smile on his face. “Oops!” he said, feigning chagrin and pretended to try to wipe it up with some napkins – smearing the syrup all over me in the process. Once I was soaked in syrup (with enough sopped up to prevent any dripping on Walter’s bed-sheets), the evil David laughed villainously again and walked out with the tray. I just lay there simmering and muttering lurid curses under my breath (and into my gag) while the sticky syrup dried on me.

David took his sweet time getting back up to me so I could wash. I lay there for almost an hour, feeling increasingly funky, while I heard the others doing God-only-knew-what downstairs. The gag prevented me from yelling down to them (which I’m sure was the reason David put it on me), and I doubt they’d have responded to my protests in any positive manner anyway. So I endured my time in solitary with stoic fatalism to await the pleasure of my captors.

I soon heard what sounded like the back-door slam shut and voice of a couple of people outside; too muffled for me to recognize who I was hearing. I was wondering if I’d been left alone in the house when I finally heard three sets of footsteps coming up the stairs – accompanied by the now familiar clink of handcuffs and leg cuffs. In walked Walter, Randy, and Walter, while I now realized it was Brian and Michael I could hear talking outside. They were now right outside my bedroom window. I couldn’t hear what they said as the other three were now talking to me, but I distinctly heard the outside faucet being turned on. But then my attention was focused entirely on the three inside the room with me.

All three were wearing Speedos and nothing else; even their feet were bare. I was already suspicious because of this before anyone said anything.

“Time for your morning bath,” Walter told me as David and Randy began to untie me from the bed. “Want to do this the easy way or the FUN way?”

The fun way of course meaning that the three of them together would wrestle me down to the floor and bind me as I struggled… though they would at least be sporting enough to let me get to my feet and brace myself first as if it were a fair fight one-on-one.

Bowing to the inevitable, I chose the easy way, and before long I was blindfolded, hobbled, cuffed with my hands behind my back, and led on a leash down the stairs. The dried syrup covering my front left only a slight trail of a few easily cleaned off drops as we went. One boy held my arms on each side of me to ensure I could not fall and hurt myself with a misstep while the third held the leash. It was a bit annoying but also exciting…. But it seemed a bit much just for the short excursion to the bathtub.

It turned out we weren’t going to the bathtub. I was led out the back door (still clad only in my underwear I might add) and taken out to the backyard. I was familiar enough with the layout to realize I was being taken right back to the tree I was tied to before, and sure enough they tied me to it again. Oh no… not another hosing down!

Not yet! Once I was secured my blindfold was removed and my glasses (which one of them had brought along) were placed on me. The first thing I saw were Brian and Michael in front if the outdoor faucet with a large cardboard box beside them. Also clad only in Speedos, they were kneeling on now thoroughly wet grass. Michael was pulling out various colored balloons from the box and filling them with water from the hose. He handed them to Brian, who was tying the balloon ends off and putting them in a pile while Michael was grabbing more balloons and filling them. They already had a stockpile of over 200 water balloons ready for use.

There was a marker on the box. It read: Capacity: 500 party balloons. I learned later that the balloons were for a Fourth of July public function that had been cancelled for some reason. Some wasteful fool unthinkingly threw them away rather than save them for a future occasion, and Walter and Brian had salvaged them the previous week. Grinning broadly, Walter and the others let me watch the preparations for my upcoming bath for a while before removing my glasses again and replacing the blindfold to let me await my fate with dread. I protested through the gag, of course.

“You want a bath in the bathtub instead?” asked Randy.

Though of course I suspected another trap I nodded my head vigorously anyway.

“Your choice,” said Walter. “Assisted bath outdoors WITH underwear… or assisted bath indoors in the tub WITHOUT underwear!”

WTF?!!

Seeing no option were I to retain even a shred of dignity or self-respect. I chose the outdoor option… which was apparently what everyone had expected. Because everyone knew I was naive as hell and believed everything I was told. Dopey me!

Before long I was being pelted from head to toe with water balloons. Being gagged, breathing was difficult at times but my tormentors made sure I was never in TOO much difficulty. Otherwise, they went nuts and pelted me mercilessly. Missed shots were simply retrieved and used again. The first stage of my ‘bath’ ended only when every last balloon had burst on me somewhere; near the end though I was un-cuffed, turned around, and re-cuffed so that the last hundred or so balloons pelted my back. Then unseen hands un-cuffed me again, lay me on the ground, put me in a hogtie, and scrubbed me from head to toe (save only what my undershorts covered). Finally I was hosed off briskly and efficiently and then towel-dried. It was fun while it lasted.

I’d just been led back into the house and un-cuffed so that I could take a real shower and change clothes in privacy when the phone rang. It was my mother wishing me a Happy Birthday, and apologizing that she couldn’t spend it with me. I told her that I was having a good time and not to worry. She sounded relieved by the time the call was over, apparently thinking I would be bored and lonely, at odds with my cousins, and whining to go home by this time. The day before I might have been. What a difference a day makes.

Once I gave myself a real shower and changed to a borrowed set of Speedos (which as all anyone else was wearing), I was hobbled (barefoot), cuffed, gagged, and put on a leash all over again, and (with David riding on my shoulders this time), the six of us proceeded to the pond to spend another pleasant day together.

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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 11

Once we were at the pond, David dismounted from my now weary shoulders and he and his two younger brothers ran off to splash in the pond. Randy and Walter stood beside me about thirty feet from the water’s edge - making no further move to lead me anywhere.

“Jason, do you trust us?” Walter asked me quietly in a serious voice.

Of course I suspected another trick question but I nodded my head without hesitation.

Randy stepped behind me, took my glasses off me, and quickly blindfolded me.

“Still trust us?” Walter asked me again as he began to tug on my leash. I nodded again, though perhaps with a bit more hesitation than before. So Walter led me off, and even with the blindfold on I knew we were headed straight for the pond. I heard Walter step into the water ahead and felt Randy grip my arm. Then I suddenly heard some splashing toward me, felt a strong grip on my other arm, and heard David’s voice assuring me that I’d be okay. I paused anyway as we stepped into the water too, but only for a moment. I knew all of them well enough by now to know that - while they loved to play tricks (often dirty ones) on me - they would never hurt me nor let me be hurt. So I let them lead me on until we were in deep water that would be over my head if I stood on the bottom.

It was an even scarier but exhilarating situation than when Al and Ron did this with me the day before. I thought I was totally helpless before, but this time I could neither see nor speak and was totally dependent on the others to take care of me. But I did not struggle even once, nor pretend to in case it was misunderstood as my being in trouble. I simply let them carry me out into the water and swim out with me.

Previously Al and Ron had not taken me far enough out to keep my feet from touching bottom, but this time I could tell that we were swimming in deeper water. But they kept me afloat and kept my head above water. The cuffs made mobility difficult for me but they were not heavy enough to drag me down, and my body fat evidently helped keep me afloat too as fat is lighter than water. No one splashed me because it was judged too dangerous too. Despite their own swimming strokes, the three boys somehow avoided splashing me with water even slightly. Also, two of them continually used one arm simply to hold me up (I lay mostly on my back in the water) - which must have been difficult and tiring – while the third stood close by to assist if anything went wrong.

I couldn’t see but learned afterward that Brian and Michael also stayed close by in case of real trouble. It was a dangerous and possibly very stupid thing for us to do – but I never felt a moment’s fear after the first minute or so in the water, and we stayed out in the water for at least a half hour.

“You did very well, Jase,” David assured me when we waded back to shore and my blindfold and gag were removed. My glasses (which had been left on a towel on the beach) were also placed back on me. “When it was me the first time, I was shaking like a leaf the whole time.” David continued.

“They did this to you once, too?” I asked him as the three older boys led me to the grassy area where I had been staked out the day before. Brian and Michael remained in the water a while longer.

“More like a dozen times by now,” he told me as we reached the tent pegs and I began to lie down on the (somewhat damp) blanket that still lay in the center of them. “But I enjoyed it lots more by the second time. I do it better than Walt or Randy, too. They’re so thin they don’t float worth a damn if they don’t have their arms and legs free! That’s one small advantage you’ve got, I guess.” he said with a laugh. Then he patted my belly several times with loud smacks with the flat of his hand, as if my gut was his own personal drum.

Before I could ask him further about this, Walter (who was now tying one of my wrists to a tent peg while David was tying the other) asked him, “Where are Al and Ron? They should have shown up by now!”

“Probably still at home doing chores or maybe playing games with the rest of the club members,” replied David. “They’ll probably be along in the afternoon. You know how they are.”

Apparently Walter did, since he made no further comment but just nodded his head with a little “Hmph!” as he finished securing my wrist to the tent peg before moving on to tie the ankle on the same side.

“Club? You have a club?” I asked David while Randy went ahead and sat on my chest knees up and began to drip-dry all over me. Man, he sure had a bony butt!

“Sure,” replied David as he finished tying my other wrist and proceeded to tie off the remaining ankle. “Didn’t you know? You’ve been an honorary member ever since Randy and Walter chained you to Randy’s bed the night before. After all, it’s just a bunch of kids who like to get together to tie up, sit on, and torment one another for the fun of it.”

“So when do I get to do some of the tying, sitting, and tormenting?” I asked as one by one my other companions sat down on top of me behind Randy.

“Well, for that you have to be a FULL member!” Randy answered with a wicked looking grin. “And if you want THAT, you have to go through an initiation ceremony first.”

I knew enough about initiations in boys’ clubs to know that they were rarely easy. In the case of a club like this, I was convinced it would be sheer Hell – at least, for almost anyone else with a lick of sense. I my case, I figured I’d be a shoe-in. Already having a good idea what the answer would be, I asked for more details.

“Well, first everyone in the club has to meet you and get to know you like we have, if you catch my drift,” said David, who was right behind Randy and looking over my lanky cousin’s shoulder. “You’ve already met Al and Ron, so that just leaves four others. If you want, I can go home and call them up and arrange for them to meet you. Once that’s done, we can have an official initiation ceremony this following weekend.”

“That’d be perfect, since mom would be gone the whole time to be with YOUR mom,” Randy told me.

“What does the ceremony involve?” I asked.

“For one thing,’ answered Walter now, “you’ll be kept tied up or cuffed for 48 hours straight without a break – except for the short breaks we insist on every four hours to make sure you’re not getting hurt from being tied-up so much. After each break you’d as usual be tied in a different way so that the rest of your body isn’t too stressed from being in one position for too long. This whole time at least some of us will be sitting on you (if you’re lying down) and tormenting you and keeping you from getting any sleep. Other times you’ll be tied upright, and sometimes you might even be hung by your wrists or ankles for short periods of time. The whole time, you must do whatever anyone tells you to do without questions, comments, or complaints…”

“How can I do anything if I’m tied up?” I asked in puzzlement.

“You’ll be able to do what you’re told at the time,” said David. “The problem will be your own willingness to. Refusal to obey even one order means enduring extra torture instead, like getting towel whipped in the butt really hard about a hundred times. Refuse to obey orders ten times and you fail your initiation. Balk at being subjected to any torture selected for you even once and you fail as well.”

“So if you order me to jump off a cliff or walk naked down the street, I’d have to do it?” I asked sardonically.

“No,” said Walter. “We won’t tell you to do something to hurt yourself or embarrass you outside the club. For one thing, we’re not that cruel or stupid. For another, we don’t want to call attention to ourselves; our club is top secret. So you’d be given orders that are at worst humiliating, such as being told to kiss so-and-so on the cheek. You’d be told to do nothing all of us haven’t already done ourselves and had done to us before.”

“Are there any GIRLS in this club?” I asked suddenly, wondering if I could stand the idea of being tortured by a girl.

“Are you nuts?!” yelped at least three of them at once.

Then David explained, “Can you imagine what people would do to us if we were caught either sitting on or being sat on by girls?! No way! Boys with boys; no problem. We’re just regular boys wrestling. Even if one of them is tied up, it’s no big deal. Every boy gets tied up once in a while! But be seen sitting on a girl, and you’re a bully or worse! Be seen with a girl sitting on you and you’re a sissy or worse. Nuh uh!!! No damn girls in OUR club! Not ever!!!”

“Could you explain the torture part in more detail?” I asked them; greatly relieved that no girls would be involved; I’d have rather been beaten up by a boy than by a girl any day.

“It’d mostly be stuff we’ve done to you already,” replied Randy. “Some of it would be new to you though because we don’t practice the harder stuff on newbies. And don’t ask what the harder stuff is yet, because that’s a secret shared only at initiation time. But I promise it doesn’t involve letting you get hurt worse than you have been already. So, what do you think? Want to be a FULL member, or are you content to continue being just another piece of our furniture?”

Actually, I WAS pretty well content to just let them keep right on doing what they’d been doing to me. I had no particular desire to tie up and sit on – let alone torment – anyone. Whereas I was thoroughly enjoying the experience of having five physically fit, Speedo-clad, dripping wet boys sit on me while I was helplessly tied up and at their mercy. However, being a red-blooded American boy living in the late 1960’s, I couldn’t just admit that and feel that I was entitled to any self-respect or dignity. What dignity I thought I still had while five physically fit etc. etc. boys had me tied up while they sat on me I couldn’t honestly tell you, but that’s what I was thinking.

“The worst I think I got so far is Randy whacking me in the nuts,” I said. “If there’s a lot of THAT, I don’t know if…”

“Randy was a bit out of line there,” interrupted David. “He only got away with it because he’s your cousin. He and Walter are free to do what they like to each other because they’re brothers, but if they did anything like that to one of the rest of us, or if any of the rest of us hurt you like that, he’d have to be punished by being the victim’s slave for the whole day. You can guess what that means. Once you’re a full member, no one else in the club is allowed to cause you pain without paying the penalty. Humiliation yes, if kept within the club and not done publicly and isn’t on what we call the forbidden list… but no pain worse than a face slap. Not without your freely given consent, anyway. Even I’m limited to what I can do to my own brothers since they’ve been full members for years! And anyone outside the club who tries to hassle you, well… we’ll make sure they’ll wish they’d never been born!”

This was sounding more and more interesting. Even if I never wanted to invoke the privilege of making someone else my captive for a while, it sounded like enduring the initiation would be a lot of fun. After all, it didn’t sound like anything I hadn’t gotten used to before and learned to enjoy. And maybe it would be fun now and then to have the right to be the one on top of the situation sometimes when dealing with my two rambunctious cousins before my visit here ended!

I pretended to mull it over while they sat and performed various minor torments on me like those described in various places earlier. Then, as lunch time approached, I said that I agreeable to being initiated in their club. The decision of course was never in doubt.

“Okay,” said Walter. “Randy and I have to head home soon anyway and take care of a few chores and make a picnic lunch. While we do that, David can go home and call the others to arrange for their meeting you sometime in the next few days. Brian and Michael can stay here with you to keep you company.”

Walter and Randy hurried off back to their house, but David lingered and tickled me (along with his brothers) until my cousins were out of sight. Then he turned to his brothers and asked them to make the calls themselves while he stayed and kept me company himself, and to be back in two hours. This suited the younger boys, and they left immediately after.

I was now alone with David, who now suggested that we go for a walk. I agreed; even though it wasn’t near the ‘official’ four hour limit for a single tie-up session yet. So David untied me, helped me to stand up, and then cuffed and hobbled me as usual. Instead of putting the leash around my neck, he tied it to my wrists (which were cuffed in front of me) and led me walking around the nearby trails that way for a while. We talked about the club for a while until we were ready to have me tied back down and sat on.

Instead of tying me back to the tent pegs, David took me to an area a hundred feet away and had me lie on a level, shady, grassy spot between two white birch saplings about five feet apart. I complied without question as he undid the handcuffs and leg cuffs, wrapped each around a tree trunk, and re-cuffed me so that I lay bound to and between both trees. Then he sat down to give me a good tickling for a while.

Then, while I lay there recovering from laughing so hard, we just had a quiet, pleasant time enjoying each other’s company until the others came back.

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Post by Xtc »

I remember this part from the previous site with fondness.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Jason Toddman »

You may have noticed that I excised a little portion involving... uhh... 'water sports' this time around. I figured that bit was inappropriate here now. I'll be deleting other such references as they come up, though in some story chapters later on that may involve a serious amount of editing, deletions, and replacement text.
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Post by Xtc »

A wise decision, in my opinion.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Jason Toddman »

Yes, I thought it might be. I'm not known for being a wise man (as opposed to being a wise guy), but occasionally I do stumble into the right decision. :D
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PART 12

David played some gentle teasing games with me as we waited for his brothers and my cousins to return from their various errands. However, before any of them did so, Ron and Al came back first… and they brought someone with them.

Or rather, that someone brought them. Ron and Al both had their hands tied behind their backs, and their bare feet were hobble-tied together, with clothesline. Each of them wore Speedos as well; apparently the uniform of the day among us. Well, it WAS a scorching-hot day; the temperature and humidity were both easily over 90. All else they wore were baseball caps to help keep the sun out of their eyes; and Ron wore sunglasses. Both boys had leashes tied to their wrists, and the further ends were in the right hand of the boy who came here with them and trailed just behind them.

The new boy was ten years old and weighed maybe 70 pounds sopping wet, so even then it was obvious that any real control he had over the older boys was purely by their own consent. I couldn’t otherwise believe that neither boy alone (let alone both of them together) couldn’t overwhelm such a small captor even while tied and hobbled. But the small boy acted like a drill sergeant marching raw recruits in military boot camp.

He was dressed for the part too; sort of. He wore military green cut-off shorts, an open vest of the same color and material with sergeant’s stripes on each sleeve, old military boots at least three sizes too large for him (stuffed with newspaper to keep them from wobbling, it turned out), and an old army helmet at least two sizes too large for him (and also padded with newspaper). And he wore sunglasses. He looked like an extremely youthful General McArthur. When he took off the helmet, I also found he had a military style crew cut. From his dark hair and complexion, I guessed (correctly) that he was related to Ron.

The three came up to us, and David arose to greet them; obviously I couldn’t do the same though I unthinkingly tried before a jerk on a rope-bound wrist reminded me that I was still tied up myself. When they arrived, the third boy greeted David but ignored me for the moment. I didn’t mind, as I figured he wanted to untie Ron and Al first.

But that isn’t what he did. Instead, he led them to the tree nearest me, stood them up back against opposite sides of the trunk, and promptly used the free rope used as a leash to lash their arms and upper bodies firmly to it and to each other (though he left their hobbled feet free other than to tighten the hobbles to effectively tie their feet together). While they were being tied to the tree, both of the older boys cheerfully greeted me (neither having been gagged), and I responded about as cheerfully if a little puzzled. Who was the new kid?

David brought him over to introduce me. He hadn’t even gotten to the point of saying my name before the boy promptly stepped over me and sat down on my chest with no more concern than if I was a rock. But he had a wide smile, merry eyes, and a handsome face, so I forgave him. Boys who sat on me without a by-your-leave were becoming routine.

The new boy’s name was Kevin, and he was Ron’s kid brother; actually the older of two but I didn’t meet the other kid brother until much later (he was only 8 at this time and not part of the club). Kevin had a cocksure attitude for such a small kid, but otherwise he had such a friendly and appealing nature that no one minded this. He was the youngest member of the club (and one of the four members I hadn’t met yet) and rarely wound up on the bottom of any sit-on sessions because of his small size. Only Michael or Brian (who weren’t too much bigger or heavier) ever really did so; the other members chose other torments for him when having Kevin for a prisoner, such as tickles. Kevin was far more ticklish than even I was, it seemed.

I also learned for the first time then that Al and Ron (and therefore of course Al and Kevin) were first cousins; their mothers were sisters. It also turned out that they were first cousins to MY cousins, as their mothers’ brother was my Uncle Pierre – my Aunt Yvette’s deceased husband and my cousins’ father. But as Walter and Randy were related to me through their mother rather than their father, I was unsure whether or not Al, Ron, and Kevin could be considered related to me too. But as we became good friends I decided that family relationships in this case didn’t matter anyway. The same was true with David, who wasn’t related to any of the others in the gang by blood or marriage - except of course to Michael and Brian.

While all this was being explained to me, Kevin was sitting on my chest while the much larger and heavier David was sitting knees-up on my belly to put all his weight on me; smiling angelically at me all the while. At the same time, Al and Ron patiently watched us and joined in the conversation as they remained tied together and to the tree. Feeling sorry for them, and selfishly wanting them to sit on me too, I asked if they could be untied and allowed to sit down. Kevin acted reluctant at first, but soon generously consented and freed them. Soon they were sitting on my legs while Kevin resumed sitting on my chest.

My older brother Ike sure never indulged me like Ron (and Al) did HIS kid brother! I don’t recall a single instance where I got to tie my brother up – let alone sit on him, whereas between Kevin and Ron these was apparently frequent and regular occurrences! Granted, Ron tied his brother up every so other too; but Ron never treated him roughly, sat on him only rarely and very carefully, and was very protective of him – inside the gang or outside. At least my brother shared THOSE traits with Ron (except he almost never sat on me at all for fear of hurting me; he was too much larger than I even by this summer of 1969).

Even before informal introductions were out of the way, Kevin had begun flicking my nose and ears, squeezing my nose while hand-gagging me, slapping my face (teasingly rather than hard enough to hurt), and squeezing my face between his knees. And this was just in the first five minutes before untying his brothers. In the first five minutes AFTER untying them, he played with my hair, pinched my cheeks, burbled my lips with a finger whenever I tried to speak to make me sound like an idiot, grabbed my mouth and puckered it when I kept silent, and hand-blindfolded me.

I can’t imagine even now what it must have been for Ron to have been Kevin's older brother and live in the same house as Kevin all those years growing up! And I wondered even then what strange experiences the YOUNGER brother might have had to tell! I only found out later that he was indulged even more than Kevin was – by Ron AND even by Kevin himself! But that’s a story for another time as I didn’t meet the youngest brother that summer.

So now the four of them mercilessly tickle-tortured me (Ron and Al were particularly merciless to my feet, the ingrates!) until Walter and Randy mercifully showed up with a picnic lunch for us. They didn’t know many people would be there when they returned so packed enough food for us and to spare… especially as Brian and Michael hadn’t yet returned. It was a great spread featuring fried chicken, egg and potato salad, rolls, and (if I recall correctly) Hawaiian Punch. Luckily for Brian and Michael, they showed up just as the picnic was getting underway.

By now there were too many people to crowd on top of me, so David volunteered to be a second table. He lay down and his wrists were handcuffed to the same tree Ron and Al had been tied to while his feet were hobbled but otherwise left loose (no other tree was close enough to the first).
Being tied into immobility was apparently considered to be mandatory; no sitting was complete without one, apparently. Randy sat on David’s chest and hand-fed him while Ron and Kevin switched places so that Ron could hand feed me. Al sat on my middle and Walter sat on David’s. After a few minutes Kevin decided to go over to David and sit on his legs to hold his feet down with his weight… letting them seem loose seemed like sacrilege somehow, apparently. Nobody saw anything unusual in any of this as we placidly ate our lunch. Once Brian and Michael showed up, Kevin resumed sitting on my own legs, as the two other boys evidently preferred to sit on (and mercilessly torment) their own big brother whenever the opportunity arose.

We had just finished lunch and the others were deciding how to torment me (and David, who remained chained up and sat on) when we all heard the sudden rumble of thunder in the far distance. Suddenly nervous, Walter and Ron ran over to the sandy area of the pond (the only place in the clearing where you could see any part of the sky that wasn’t within about 30 degrees from directly overhead) and looked toward the lake. Thunderclouds were definitely forming in the middle distance and coming closer. It would be overhead from where we were within minutes. They saw a flash of lightning in the far distance even as they turned back to report to us.

Even before they reached us the others were hastily freeing David and me. It was decided that the picnic was over for now and that we should get indoors at once. As the tree-house behind David’s house was considerably closer to us than my cousins’ house (a quarter mile versus a mile), we went there. At the time we weren’t aware of the danger of being near isolated trees during a thunderstorm, or we might have gone to David’s house (which was only a few hundred feet further on) despite the fact that the rain was already starting to come down hard just as we reached the spot.

For once we had forgotten the custom of hobbling or tying some of our number; we wanted to go as fast as we could so everyone was free to run as fast as they could – loaded with our belongings. I carried my own clothing left there the previous day and the blanket I had been lying on (it belonged to David’s family but who cared?). When we fled the storm we brought everything with us; even our litter from the picnic and whatever had accumulated from previous forays of the various club members. Everyone carried something that belonged to one of us. Whatever our kinks, we were at least environmentally responsible.

We reached the tree house and climbed in just as the rain was pouring down. David was the last of us and he was as soaking wet as he was after we had swam in the pond. He was not so happy to be wet this time, however. I had been one of the first in because I had been one of the fastest after Walter and Randy (despite my flabbiness) and had gotten a head start besides. So I gave him and his two brothers (who had been barely ahead of him) the blanket I’d salvaged (it was still dry except for the slight damp left on one side from the drip-drying of the wet Speedo-clad boys who had been sitting on it – and me). The three brothers were still wearing only Speedos and were a bit chilly, and they huddled together inside the blanket for mutual warmth after toweling themselves dry (luckily the towels hadn’t been rained on). The rest of us were luckier; we didn’t get so wet (many of us didn’t get wet at all), and the air remained warm enough so that we weren’t particularly uncomfortable either even though only Kevin wore anything more substantial than Speedos.

The storm lasted for about a half hour and apparently went right over us. The rain poured down in buckets and the wind whipped it all around like mad. However, the windows and doors were closed and the whole structure was pretty water-tight for something that had been built (or at least put together from parts salvaged by former houses) entirely by kids. The rest of us remained dry. Anyway, it is just as well we took refuge in the tree-house rather than running on to main house, or we all would’ve been soaked. And though lightning seemed to crackle all around us, and one bolt came so close that the noise and flash coming together made us all jump with a yell, none of it hit our tree.

When the storm ended and the sun came out again, it was almost as if it had never happened except for the rain-soaked leaves and grass and the mud puddles. Within another half hour it was as hot and humid as ever. This is probably the main reason David and his brothers didn’t catch a cold from their experiences.

As it was now soaking (and dripping) wet outside, and we didn’t know whether or not another thunderstorm was on its way waiting to assail us, we decided to spend the rest of the afternoon in the tree-house. David, who had been tied before our picnic, was judged none the worse for his soaking and promptly re-tied – and then tied securely into one of the cots I had seen here during my previous visit. In my case, the others tied my wrists together in front of me, wrapped more rope around my ankles and above and below my knees, and then stuffed me into the sleeping bag.

I soon discovered a special modification that someone (the ingenious David, I learned later) had made to the sleeping bag. The area over the zipper from about the chest down was sewed and stitched over securely, making it a bit difficult to get into it (even if I were untied) without assistance. Getting into it was like putting on a huge, thick sock that went right up to your neck! Or like being swallowed whole by a giant slug from a bad sci-fi movie! But, with considerable assistance and some pushing by the others, I finally slid all the way in and one of the others zipped it up from the outside.

Once I was in, the others pulled on some ropes built into the thing I hadn’t seen before. These were like drawstrings on a winter coat that you pull to make it snugger and warmer. These were like those except these drawstrings were much thicker and stronger than those of any coat. There were a lot of them too; I think about a dozen. And once they were drawn tight and tied off, I found that the sleeping bag had turned into a giant papoose! The one at the neck drew so tight that my shoulders were totally enclosed; only my head emerging from the hold was visible. I absolutely could not move a muscle below my neck to save my life! I doubt I could have gotten out of there in any reasonable time even if I was untied; as it was, I couldn’t have gotten out without help in a lifetime! I couldn’t even roll over in the damn thing because was locked into a rigid position by metal rods that were slid on afterward and clamped into place and locked together like spreader bars. I could barely flex the muscles needed for such movement even without that liability.

There was a hood built into the thing too, which could totally enclose the head. There were zippers for eyeholes, nose and mouth. I didn’t learn of it then however because it wasn’t used on me on this occasion because of the heat. Even my new friends could only be so cruel, apparently. As it was, I was sweltering inside that thick bag within minutes.

I was as helplessly immobilized as if I had been a quadriplegic! And the others – already familiar with David’s invention – were quick to take advantage of this fact. In about as many seconds, four kids were sitting on top of me from chest to ankles; Walter, Randy, Ron, and Al, in that order. This of course made me even warmer; enough so that for the first time I (almost) wished they weren’t sitting on me. Then Walter gagged me with some duct tape, yanked off my glasses, and a jubilant Kevin sat on my face! He thought my attempts to breathe were funny and kept imitating them while he sat; he must’ve loved Darth Vader when Star Wars came along about eight years later!

I silently cussed David out for building this contraption – I was assuming he’d built it for his brothers. Actually, in a way he had - but usually it was David who was tied into the thing rather than him tying someone else into it. More often than not it was Michael and Brian who sat on and tormented him while he was trapped inside it… usually during summertime sleepovers inside the tree-house where relative privacy and freedom from responsible adult supervision was obtainable. But as I was apparently the Guest of Honor, I somehow managed to co-opt the sleeping bag (the ‘body-bag’, I called it) while David had to settle for being tied into the cot. But at least his two faithful brothers still sat on him and tried their best to make his life a misery.

I have since wondered if David was involved in the invention of the sleepsack (the adult version, not the things used for babies). This modified sleeping bag was certainly quite similar to one, if not quite as comfortable, confining, or as sturdy as they are said to be (I’ve never seen one except in pictures, so I don’t know). If he wasn’t the inventor, he should have been!

Within a half hour I was soaked with sweat and as wet as if I’d been caught in the rain myself. Despite this, my captors didn’t let me out of that thing until I’d been trapped inside it for the full four hours their rules allowed for a tieup without breaks! However, soda from fetched from David’s family’s house and I was kept well-hydrated. I was only released when I swore that my bladder was ready to blow, and no one wanted me to do it in there – least of all me.

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Post by Mummybag »

That story is getting better every episode you are posting!!
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Post by Jason Toddman »

Mummybag wrote: 2 years ago That story is getting better every episode you are posting!!
Thanks. :D


PART 13

Much of the time I was sealed inside that sleeping bag, several of my companions would be sitting on top of me. As often as not, one would be sitting on my face. It occurs to me belatedly than I should explain that this is a potentially very dangerous activity and that great care should be taken in such situations. My friends for all their rambunctiousness actually had an elaborate set of safety rules about things like this that were strictly observed. Great care was always taken to prevent injury to the head and neck. Knees-up and placing the whole weight of one’s body on another’s face was strictly a no-no for all but the youngest and smallest, and even then it was limited to less than a minute at a time. Especially when the one below (and that was usually me) was gagged, great care was taken not to smother or cause damage. In fact sitting there was one of the things that required at least implied mutual consent; any and all objections to it were respected and enforced. And no one under 13 got sat on there ever. I was on the cusp and it was allowed for me because I never genuinely objected to it (or too much of anything else for that matter). I was also large and sturdy for my age.

Although they freely called what they did ‘torture’, everyone was careful to never deliberately inflict pain worse than a hard face slap or a moderately light whack in – uh, the nether regions. Even minor accidents were therefore extremely rare and there was never a serious one. We were a bit crazy perhaps but also conscientious and considerate of one another despite the way it all sounds.

With all that said I should also mention that one reason I was getting so much attention was because I apparently was a lot more willing to let myself be subjected to ‘torture’ than anyone else in the club - or even anyone else any of them had ever met. None of us there knew what the word masochist meant, but they understood the concept well enough to know one when they saw one and they apparently relished the opportunity to play as hard as they wanted to with one when they got the chance. All of them were of course masochistic themselves to some extent, or this club could never have been started let alone allowed among them, but in that one trait at least I far excelled them all. All of them were also sadistic too I suppose, but not as much as you’d think from what I’ve said. They were not bullies and would not in fact put up with any bullying that they encountered elsewhere either.

So when I finally insisted I absolutely had to go pee (I had suffered in silence up to that point, not wanting to end the game any sooner than my tormentors), they let me free at once; no arguments. Had they been the type to refuse, I’d have never let them tie me again… even my masochism had limits. But with Walter and the others, I knew I could have all the masochistic fun I wanted and still be perfectly safe. It is important for a masochist to be able to trust his ‘captors’; if he cannot (or places his trust in the wrong people), he is in extreme danger.

It was about five in the afternoon when I got released from the ‘body bag’ and allowed to dash out into the woods nearby to water a tree. At about the same time my cousins decided that it would be best for the three of us to return to their house; their mother should be getting home soon and didn’t want her to be worried (or start asking questions about how we spent the day). The blue jeans that I’d worn the day before were dry but a bit ripe from being outside overnight, and it was too hot to wear them comfortably, so I wrapped them around my waist instead for the walk home.

Walter and Randy cuffed and hobbled me as usual, and this time Walter got to ride me home. Despite his size and weight, he was not as hard to carry as I thought he would be despite my being barefoot. To make it easier to maintain my balance under his weight however, my hands were cuffed in front of me so I could brace his legs with my hands and more easily shift my own weight to compensate for his. Randy of course led me along on a leash; something so routine by now that I gave it no thought anymore. I was almost surprised when we stopped along the trail just short of where we’d be visible from their house and the leash, manacles, and cuffs were taken off me and packed into a bag Walter carried (along with my pants to muffle any clinking sounds). They actually had to begin explaining to me why we didn’t go all the way to house with those things on me this time! I could be a bit slow on the uptake sometimes in those days, I guess.

At any rate, Aunt Yvette had not gotten home yet, and we were actually able to get cleaned up, get a fresh change of clothes, and begin looking and acting like normal boys (playing a game of touch football) by the time she finally did arrive. She was happy to see the three of us apparently getting along quite well, and didn’t quiz us on our recent activities.

Because of her being tired from her long trip, and because it was my birthday, Aunt Yvette took us out to eat at a local Chinese restaurant and then to a drive-in movie. All I remember about the movie was that my aunt and I sat in the front seat and my cousins in the back, and that I wished I was lying in the back seat beneath the two of them instead. Never mind that I’d been sat on practically all day; I still hadn’t had enough of it! I was still new at this, and now I found I didn’t want to stop.

Later that night, after Aunt Yvette had retired for the night, Walter and Randy cuffed me securely to Randy’s bed and sat on me until well past midnight. They left me cuffed there (at my own insistence) when they finally went to sleep, but freed me the next morning so I could be up and about before Aunt Yvette went to work the next day. They were afraid she might get suspicious if I seemed to insist on staying in bed every time she went to work rather than have breakfast with them and wish her a good day. Since the cuffs weren’t tight enough to leave marks, it was safe to leave me cuffed all night without leaving evidence for her to see in the morning.

The next five days became something of a routine. Once Aunt Yvette was gone to work for the day, the three of us followed the same usual ritual of cuffing and hobbling me (while being as lightly clad as practical), and leading and riding me back to the pond. Once there, I’d be tied down and sat on by them and whatever other kids that were there for a while with occasional breaks, plus have lunch and go for walks and go swimming while I was still cuffed and hobbled. We’d head back home again before Aunt Yvette got home, helped her fix dinner, and had a pleasant evening watching TV. Each day Aunt Yvette was belatedly asked if one or more friends could come over for a sleep-over; she’d always say yes as she was easy-going (at least with us kids), never disturbed by whatever activities were engaged in, was somewhat doting to her sons, and genuinely liked their friends. So each weeknight there’d be at least one other guest who’d join my cousins in sitting on me as I lay tied or chained in bed overnight. Then the whole process would start over again in the morning with the new guest having breakfast with us and then riding my shoulders on the trip back to the pond after my aunt was gone for the day.

On Monday, there were only David, Ron, and Al at the pond, and it was Ron who spent the night with us afterward.

On Tuesday Ron came with us but didn’t stay, but David and Al showed up with one of the three members I had not met yet. Myron was about my age and height but about 30 pounds lighter. He had reddish hair, a medium build and freckles all over his body. He was quiet and shy and didn’t take much part in the activities though, and I don’t think I saw him more than a few times overall after that. He never visited my cousins nor was he at my initiation the following weekend. Instead, Al came back with us to stay overnight.

On Wednesday, it was Al, Ron, David, Brian, and a new kid about Brian’s age. He was about the same height as Brian but somewhat heavier in build, and he was what is now called an African American; the first I ever met. In those days, there were very few non-white residents in that area, and I clearly recall being startled the first time I ever saw one in real life instead of on TV or in a movie. His name was George and rather shy with strangers (lamentably understandable for a non-white boy in those days), but eventually warmed up to me and became more enthusiastic around me than Myron had. He came for an overnight visit that time and we discussed science fiction shows like Star Trek like the geeky fan-boys we apparently both were.

On Thursday I met the final new kid, but I recall little about him because that was the only time I ever saw him (he never came to the initiation though he was supposed to) and he didn’t stay long either. I believe his family moved out of the area shortly afterward. I don’t even recall his name or what he looked like. But Ron and Kevin were also there, and they came home with us.

That time I got chained in the closet with my wrists locked to the overhead bar and left standing there all night. The bar was high enough to leave me dangling a foot in the air if I wasn’t standing on something. At first they had me stand on a couple of soccer balls, which would quickly roll out from under me at the slightest movement and leave me hanging until they finally had mercy enough to replace them. When it was time to go to sleep however, they gave me a chair to stand on instead.

By then it was arranged to start my initiation on Friday, as my aunt would be gone the whole time from Friday morning to late Sunday evening – giving the other members plenty of opportunity to test my fitness to join their ranks. Some of the members could not arrive until Saturday but it was agreed to start out with just those who could be there: Walter, Randy, Ron, Kevin, David, Brian, and Michael. Al, George, Myron and that other kid would supposedly join in later – though as I said the last two never did show up. The ceremony would begin at the tree-house Friday at noon and last 48 hours until Sunday noon.

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Post by Xtc »

What a good job they were proper footballs and not those silly, little oval things. :D
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Jason Toddman
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Post by Jason Toddman »

Xtc wrote: 2 years ago What a good job they were proper footballs and not those silly, little oval things. :D
Quite so. But as established in the story they were soccer - pardon me, proper football - players so it makes sense for them to have had these in the house. ;)

PART 14

The five of us spent the evening watching television. Normally Randy and Walter sat on the couch in normal summer evening clothing and I sat in a nearby easy chair. As my aunt was now out of the house, I was tied hand and foot and lay on the couch while Walter, Randy, and Ron sat on ME; Kevin got the easy chair. The others were watching a movie, but I merely dozed so I don’t remember what the movie was. The others were absorbed enough in the movie so they didn’t bother to torment me to keep me awake.

As Ron had already spent a night with me in this house earlier this week, I was left with his brother Kevin to play with me once it was bed-time. I was securely tied and gagged to Randy’s bed while that hyperactive little imp played with various parts of my anatomy (but NOT the one set of parts you may be thinking of!). I mean nipple twists, nose flicks, belly bounces, feet tickles, face slaps… all that fun sort of stuff younger boys do to torture other boys when they have absolute power over them. He wasn’t just using his own active imagination and experience though; he was getting constant inspiration by the other occupants of the room!

Kevin’s older brother Ron was tied up in bed right next to me; I was on the right side and he on the left, and my left hand was tied to same wooden post his right hand was. We couldn’t reach each other’s hands though and of course our captors would have foiled and probably punished any escape attempts. We were both gagged. Walter was sit kneeling on Ron’s chest and twisting (gently) Ron’s nose (no fun when you’re gagged) while Randy straddled Ron’s thighs and tickled his hips (being tickled is also torture when you’re gagged). Kevin was watching the torture of his big brother avidly and imitated everything he saw being done to Ron on me!

For a ten-year-old kid, Kevin was rapidly becoming an extremely talented torturer! I’d have begged for mercy long before if I could speak aloud; not that I’ve have gotten any mercy from any of them anyway while being subjected to minor stuff like this. If I couldn’t really endure being tickle tortured for several hours, I had no business trying to join a club like the one my cousins and their friends had formed.

Kevin spent half the time sitting on my face (apparently his favorite place to sit on anyone), which was not too bad because I was in bed with a pillow and had proper head and neck support, Kevin was small and light as well, he wasn’t the flatulent kind (thank God) and he didn’t even put most of what little weight he had directly on me. He still simply thought it was funny to have me breathe up his Speedo-clad butt because of the funny noises it caused me to make. But he was conscientious enough never to cut my air off for more than a few seconds at a time. He somehow knew how to make it thrilling to be his captive without once making it unsafe.

We called it a night relatively early (by their standards, not mine) though, for my sake. Not because I didn’t enjoy being at the mercy of a hyperactive 10-year-old boy but because I would begin a 48-hour-ordeal the next day which would include, among other horrible things done to my person, total sleep deprivation. Various members of the club would take turns two or three at a time tormenting me so that all of them could get a normal amount of sleep but I would get none of all. So I was allowed to get as much sleep the night before as I could – at least, while tied up in bed and gagged.

When we called it a night though, I didn’t remain in Randy’s bed. I was released just long enough to be transferred to Walter’s bed (via the downstairs bathroom for a needed break) and tied down firmly in there. I was un-gagged though as I’d be left alone in peace and quiet all night. This way I’d be less likely to get into trouble from obstructed breathing, and could call for help from the others if any other trouble started. Randy and Walter were light sleepers and would hear me if I called – especially as the door to both bedrooms were left open.

Ron, whose need for sleep was less urgent, was re-tied to the center of Randy’s double-sized bed so that my cousins could lie on either side on him and his little brother on top of him… and tickle him at random intervals the entire night. So I think the only one who slept at all that night (let alone slept a full eight hours) was me. Even if so, you wouldn’t have known it the next morning when they came into the bedroom I was in and prepared me for the upcoming Weekend in Bondage Hell.

My wake-up call consisted of four boys sneaking up on me as I slept and tickle-torturing me awake. Ron fed me breakfast in bed again (without making a mess like David deliberately had before) before I was untied and allowed to bathe untied and unassisted like a normal person. When I emerged from my bath, I found that David had arrived; he apparently was needed to be part of my escort for my initiation. He said this in such a matter-of-fact way that I wasn’t even suspicious until it was too late.

I was told to dress only in another set of Speedos and I prepared myself to be cuffed and hobbled as usually happened when we travelled down the wooded path to the pond or to David’s tree-house on the far side. But this time I was given a pair of leather gloves with the fingers removed and told to put them on. Then I was given a thick pair of socks that had the toe portion removed and were rolled up into thick, flat, hollow rings and told to out those on my feet. In some bewilderment, I did so.

My wrists were tied together in front of me with an unusually great amount of rope, and my ankles tied together similarly. I couldn’t understand what they were doing this for; with my ankles tied so firmly together I could barely stand without teetering over let alone walk. I could hop like a one legged frog but not far. It would not be long before I wore myself into exhaustion if made to do that! Also, being forced to hop would’ve been awfully dangerous along that trail; there were too many places where I could have tripped or stumbled and gotten badly hurt.

However, this was not what my captors had in mind.

I was still sitting in a chair when Walter told me to bend forward and put my hands against my feet. The moment I did as he told me, he took another piece of rope and - before I could think to pull back – tied my feet and wrists together. Quickly and efficiently, he put me into a frontal form of hog-tie. Then the others stood around and laughed at me.

“How am I supposed to walk to the tree-house tied like THIS?” I asked them. These were my last words for a while as I was immediately muzzle-gagged afterward.

“You aren’t walking,” said David as he walked out the back door. “You’re getting a lift!”

I didn’t like the sound of that; nor the sound of his laughter as he stepped out the back door while the other grinned at me. What the blazes were these guys up to NOW? I heard some metallic rattling beyond the back door for a moment, and then in walked David again. “Your conveyance awaits you, sir!” he said to me like he was some kind of butler – or rather, as it turned out, chauffeur.

Walter and Randy grabbed my upper arms and dragged me out of the house past the back door. Out in the back lawn stood David with a hollow metal pole about twelve feet long and a couple of inches thick. It was apparently some kind of pipe used for plumbing.

“This is the 10-foot-pole I wouldn’t touch you with by the time you finish your initiation,” he quipped with a smile as the others dragged me toward him.

I was starting to feel some alarm. What were they planning to do; beat me with that thing? But no; it was much too long and unwieldy to use as a club. Besides, hurting me in such a way was against all their own rules! Then what…?

I found out when my cousins laid me on the wet grass and made me hold my bound arms and legs up in the air. The pipe was then maneuvered to pass between my bound legs and then my bound arms, and then I knew what was going to happen next. I suddenly remembered David commenting on something like this (carrying me like a bagged deer) the moment I met him! David and Randy grasped one end of the pole (one of each side of me) and Walter and Ron grabbed the other, and then lifted it (and me in between each pair) up to their shoulders!

I was indeed going to be carried to my initiation like a prize deer caught by the hunters!

I was heavier than any of the others, but the four of them together literally shouldered their burden and we were off. Kevin didn’t remain idle however; he carried a towel and occasionally whipped my butt with it all along the way. I was clad in Speedos only, while the others wore normal clothing; the difference somehow emphasizing my own status as a helpless captive in my eyes somehow. From my position, I could see the others as they carried me, and their straining arm muscles and sweaty faces looked so strangely glorious to me just then. They were apparently going to a great deal of trouble to set up this whole kidnap/capture scenario for me, and it was exhilarating beyond belief!

If the others weren’t so healthy and athletic, they probably would have needed the entire day to haul me the one and a quarter mile distance to the tree-house. As it was, with quick rest breaks every few hundred feet, then got me there in something over an hour. The breaks were even more for my sake than for theirs, as they knew that my wrists and ankles could be damaged if carrying the strain of my weight too long. They checked my bonds at each stop to make sure I was all right. Amazingly, my circulation was only slightly impeded; and I realized belatedly that the cut-off gloves and socks were providing me with protective padding. The padding made the sensation of being tied and carried so much less uncomfortable I was only starting to get numb in my hands and feet when we arrived. My arms and shoulders sure were aching one hell of a lot though, but some of Ron’s massages took care of that quite quickly!

Al, Brian, and Michael formed a reception committee, but that isn’t what grabbed my immediate attention. Behind them was a rather large box-like affair I couldn’t make out at first; the jouncing way I was carried, it was difficult to see it even though I had my glasses on. Only when I was blissfully set down on the ground could I orient my head to get a steady, right-side-up view of it.

It was some kind of home-made cage. It was square, about four feet to a side, and each side except the top and bottom was made of cuttings from a chain-link fence. The top and bottom were made of wooden planks over an inch thick. The bottom was lined with hay. The framework was made two-by-fours. The front was a door that swung open or closed and secured with a hasp and a padlock. On it was a cardboard sign that read “The Dog House! Welcome, Jason!” painted on it in two-inch high letters. The whole thing looked very sturdy. I was obviously going to be spending some time in there, and would be quite unable to get out of it without permission.

The moment I was set down, Randy and Walter quickly untied me and checked my wrists and ankles after removing the padding. Despite having carried my entire weight over a mile, my limbs were little more deeply rope-burned than they’d have been after a routine four-hour tie-up. All the same, Randy and Walter thoroughly massaged them until the rope marks had faded, and afterward Ron massaged my shoulders and arms until their aches subsided to a reasonable level.

“Okay, Jason, listen up,” Walter said to me as he squatted down beside (not on) me where I still lay on the grass. “Your initiation begins now. You must do what we say when we say from now without questions or comments or hesitation until the initiation is concluded. Failure to immediately obey orders no matter how tired you are or how bizarre the orders seem to you will result in punishment. If you fail to obey orders promptly ten times, or object to your punishment even once, you fail your initiation but can try again some other day. Any questions before we begin?”

“No,” I replied simply.

I was ordered to crawl on my hand and knees into the cage. I did so hastily, to the laughter of the others. The moment I was inside, the door was closed and padlocked behind me. I quickly tested the sides of the cage. Nope; I wasn’t getting out of here by myself I realized as I watched the others surround my cage and peer in at me with wide, mischievous smiles.

“Jason, from now on you may not say one word until one of us says otherwise,” Walter said to me next as he got down on one knee beside the cage. “Pretend you are gagged. Do not talk to anyone. Do not talk out loud at all. Do not answer ANY question put to you by anyone – even me – unless you are also TOLD to answer. Even then, do not talk out loud again until told specially to do so. Each failure counts as a separate failure to obey orders and will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I told him.

He gave a weary sigh and covered his eyes with his hand and shook his head as if suffering from some major disappointment, and the others all began to laugh in a rather sinister sort of way. I immediately realized my mistake. I should have simply nodded my head to answer! I almost cried out “I didn’t mean it!” but realized just before I uttered the first syllable that doing this would only constitute my second mistake in as many minutes after my initiation had begun. I was not off to the best possible start.

“You lose the bet, Walt! Pay up!” I heard David say, and I belatedly realized why Walter acted disappointed rather than gleeful. It seems he’d bet David five dollars I wouldn’t fall for that old gag of answering verbally right after being told not to. If HE decided my punishment, I was probably in for a rough time from the get-go.

Walter crouched in front of the cage door and unlocked it. I wondered fearfully what he was going to do to me.

“Crawl out here, and stay on your hands and knees” he bade me. I did so promptly and knelt to face him. “Give me your glasses,” he told me then, holding out his hand for them. I hesitated only a second before taking them off and handing them over; however angry I may have just made him, I knew that Walter would not damage them deliberately. He undoubtedly just meant to deprive me of clear vision for a while.

But he had more in mind. “Stay put and do not turn around,” he told me as he stood up and walked behind me. Then I heard him crouch down behind me. A moment later a cloth was wrapped around my head and over my eyes and tied off behind my head, and I was blindfolded. “Go back into your cage - and under no circumstances may you take your blindfold off,” Walter told me. So back into the cage I went as fast as I could, but I had to grope my way along until I found it. As soon as I was in, the cage door closed behind me again. “And remember, no talking out loud no matter what happens!” he told me in a rather ominous-sounding voice.

I wondered what would happen now. Was THIS my punishment? If so, then so far it was a lot less than I’d been dreading! But there HAD to be more to it than THIS!

There was! Suddenly I felt sticks poking at me from several directions at once. Everyone there was poking sticks at me through the links of the chain-link fence the cage used in place of bars. Not terribly hard but insistently, and it got very annoying very quickly. I couldn’t see to dodge them or to fend them off until I’d already been poked, and I was poked and prodded with what felt like very sharply-pointed sticks over every (uncovered) square inch of my body. My gut seemed to be a favorite target. I almost yelled “QUIT IT!” in my irritation, but for once my brain was working faster than my mouth and I realized before I made another error that this was precisely what they were trying to make me do.

I clamped my mouth shut and endured the poking stoically; since I could not see and avoid it. I was determined not to screw up a second time so easily or so quickly. Besides, for all I knew Walter had a bet riding on THAT too!

But did they HAVE to keep poking me in the BELLY?!

After what seemed like all afternoon but was in reality less than ten minutes, the poking subsided gradually; and within another ten minutes or so it stopped. I sat there in glum silence waiting for whatever would come next. No one else spoke to me, and in fact I heard no one talking nearby either. Once the poking ceased, I could have been alone in the forest for all I could tell. I couldn’t hear a thing except the wind in the trees.

Ludicrously, I began to feel like a prisoner in Death Row awaiting his execution!

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PART 15

As time went on and nothing more happened, I began to feel more like a prisoner in solitary confinement rather than one awaiting execution. What the heck was going on out there?

At one point I heard some people approach, and then a heavy sound right above me which startled me for a moment. What was that?! It sounded like something heavy being lifted off the cage and set on the ground. As I heard the sound of footsteps retreat again I felt a breeze running through my hair and felt sunshine on my face.

Puzzled, I lifted my hands up and instead of feeling a solid wooden ceiling like I expected I simply felt more chain-link fencing. Poking my fingers through it turned up only empty air as far as I could stick my fingers out through the mesh. Then I recalled what the cage looked like from outside and realized that the top must have been removable. The top of the cage had a chain-link fencing inner lining that I’d failed to notice before that was identical to the four sides around me.

After that, it was more silence for a long while. Was this a test of patience? To trap me into disobeying Walter again by calling out? If so, I could outwait them. The cage was confining and sitting inside of it blindfolded was boring as anything. But I wasn’t tied and wasn’t being tortured like I had expected to be, so… I was suspicious!

Suddenly, I felt it begin to rain. Gently at first, but rapidly and steadily harder until it grew into a shower. It was nothing like a downpour however… but annoying all the same. I couldn’t believe it. The others have left me to sit out in the rain? Then I thought, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky when I got stuck in this cage! And if it’s raining, why do I still feel the sun shining on my face? And why is this happening so soon after they so conveniently removed the only protection I had from the top of the cage?

I have said before that I have very good hearing. I focused and listened carefully. I could hear the raindrops hitting me and the top of the cage, but was NOT hearing the distinctive patter of rain hitting the ground all around me or in the tree leaves above. And I was now hearing the tittering laughter of several kids directly above me at some distance away. Also, the raindrops seemed to be strangely concentrating on my head; most of the rest of me was still dry!

At first I had the horrible thought that I was being subjected to what is sometimes known as a golden shower (I had a very vivid and often deranged imagination!); but I quickly dismissed that idea. They would not do something like that to me even during my initiation; such things were forbidden without tacit consent from the victim. As some of the drops hit my lips, it was obvious that it was mere water and not… you know... salty or nasty. Besides, the water - though not cold - was far too cool to be what I was imagining it to be.

I looked up in silence but made no comment, because I knew by then that this was one of the two most wrong things for me to do (the other of course being to take the blindfold off). I just let the ‘rain’ hit me in the face.

“Okay, Jason,” I heard Walter’s voice about fifteen feet right above me. “You can take the blindfold off. You still can’t talk though. Last free warning.”

I took off the blindfold and looked up again. Without my glasses the view was kind of blurry, but I could make out enough to figure out what was going on. My cage was directly underneath a massive branch of the maple tree that led from the back of the tree-house. A large platform had been constructed on it some time ago that I had not noticed before. It was large enough to accommodate everyone here, and everyone was up there looking right down at me. A large amount of water had previously been stored in the tree house and some of it was being poured into kitchen colanders and allowed to come down on me as ‘rain’. The ‘rain’ continued for a bit as the colanders drained but they stopped refilling them, and the shower soon ceased.

“Enjoy your shower?” Randy’s voice called to me.

I merely nodded my head; I wasn’t being caught twice by the same trick, dammit!

I was hoping they’d let me out of the cage now, but no such luck. Instead, David came down, opened the cage, tossed in a pair of handcuffs, closed and locked the door again, and ordered me to handcuff myself in front. Once I did so, he told me to shove my hands up to the top of the cage as high as I could while sitting along the same side he was now standing. When I did so, he used a crowbar to hook the chain between my cuffs and draw it upward high enough to poke out of the cage. Then he took the crowbar and hooked it halfway along its length between the cage and the chain link so that I could not pull my hands back down.

My hands were cuffed and my arms suspended above me; I was still seated though and the hay lining the bottom of the cage provided some cushioning for my butt, so I was not too uncomfortable. Just bored. If this was the worst they were going to do to me… piece of cake!

But now the others were coming out and doing things to the outer part of the cage I could not see without my glasses. Then I could hear the rattle of chains far above me but could not see them. I looked up. What was that rig they were installing up on that platform? Thanks to my near-sightedness, I could not make out what was happening, but there was a lot of activity going on up there! Then I realized that chains were being lowered and being attached to the four corners of the cage top. At the same time I heard sounds like a suitcase latch being opened several times at each outer corner of the cage. Whatever was going on, this was obviously going to be bad news!

Suddenly I felt a tugging at my wrists, and looked up in alarm just in time to see the cage top being lifted gently upward; the damn thing was detachable and was being hauled up by the chain. It rose a couple of inches and suddenly the four sides of the cage fell away from me like the petals of a flower opening up. I had a quick thought that this was another elaborate set-up of David’s creation (he must’ve spent all his free time inventing bondage devices!) when the tugging on my wrists forced me to suddenly get on my knees and then stand up on my two feet. I was bent forward like Atlas with the world on his shoulders for a moment, until the cage top was hauled high enough up to allow me to stand erect. I now realized that the others had set up some kind of pulley up there and were using that to haul up the cage top – and my trapped wrists along with it.

I was soon standing fully erect with my arms suspended above me… but I knew it would not stop there. I soon felt myself forced to stand on my tip-toes, and I was sure they were going to haul me up further and make me swing by my wrists with my legs dangling several feet in the air. But they did not do that – yet. Instead, I was actually lowered again until my feet were solidly on the ground but my arms still rigidly suspended above me.

Walter and Randy came down and set my glasses on my face at that point. “Don’t talk,” Walter warned me. “Here’s the deal. Randy and I are going to tickle you for exactly five minutes. You must try not to laugh. If you do laugh, it doesn’t count as disobedience of an order – you’ll still be just 1 in 10 – but every time you laugh you get raised a couple of inches. First you’d be on tippy-toes, and then hauled up higher and higher. After five minutes if you don’t laugh we’ll let you down and give you a rest break for an hour. If you laugh so much you’re hauled off your feet we’ll set you back down on your feet but tickle you without mercy for that same hour. Ready?”

I shook my head no vigorously but they proceeded to tickle me anyway.

Needless to say I failed the endurance test miserably within five seconds - let alone five minutes – and endured almost non-stop tickling (they gave very short rest breaks every few minutes just so I could catch my breath) for the promised sixty minutes. All that time I was suspended enough to keep me literally on my toes, but I was never ‘kept in suspense’ with my feet entirely off the ground for more than a few seconds at a time (that was too much to endure in cuffs). By the time they were finished I was almost crying rather than laughing and I came close to wetting myself.

“Need to pee before we continue?” Walter asked me as they let me down and removed the tire iron that trapped my handcuffed wrists to the cage top.

I nodded yes, which I probably would have done to be on the safe side even if I didn’t need to go badly by then. So Walter left the cuffs on and hobbled me, put a leash on me, and led me away to a secluded spot. The leash was long enough for me to get behind a tree out of sight while he held the other end and I watered a bush.

“Don’t let a single drop get on those hobbles, or else!” Walter warned me almost too late. I frantically pushed up on my boyhood just in time to let the last few drops land a safe distance from me.

He led me back to the clearing, where the others were now having lunch. I assumed I’d be laid down and sat on as usual to be hand fed. Instead, I had to get down on my knees while Walter still held the leash. Randy came up to me with a paper plate containing some potato chips and a sandwich cut up in to about a dozen bite sized pieces in one hand, while Ron followed right behind him with a small bottle of cold juice. Randy walked to a spot directly in front of where I knelt, picked up a piece of sandwich between his thumb and forefinger, held it out in front of me, and said, “Beg!” just like I was a little dog. Treating me like a dog was obviously becoming a recurring theme with these guys.

So I duly got erect on my knees, held hands limply palms down out in front of me like a kangaroo or a begging dog, made a puppy-like whining noise, and then panted like a dog for good measure; whereupon Randy popped the treat into my mouth with a chuckle. I chewed it with relish as I was genuinely hungry. Then Randy held up a potato chip and the performance was repeated. Then Ron approached with the juice and I begged again for a drink. From there, I was allowed to choose what to beg for without urging, and could quit when I was finished, but in the meantime had to beg for each morsel and sip I got.

After lunch I was un-cuffed and unshackled and then re-tied with rope around ankles, knees (above and below) and wrists in front of me (which were further secured by ropes tied around my waist so that I could not pull my hands away from me). Then I was made to lie on a bed-sheet that had been spread on the ground and rolled into it, and some rope was wound around me to tie it in place. Then I was rolled and wrapped inside a blanket. I was now securely bundled like a baby in swaddling clothes (or whatever they call those blanket-like things infants are wrapped up in these days) with only my face entirely free (the rest of my head also be bundled inside the blanket). To complete this image, Randy produced a baby bottle with milk in it, knelt straddling my chest, held the bottle to my mouth, and forced me to drink from it!

“Now I’m a REAL baby-sitter!” he joked, and again that braying donkey laugh could be heard. Then, to the laughter of the others, he began to make soft chuckling noises at me just like a mother to her infant son. Except that a mother doesn’t straddle her baby’s chest wearing nothing but gym shorts, tube socks, and sneakers. I considered going him one better and spitting up at him like a real baby might but didn’t quite dare.

This proved to be a popular game and everyone insisted on having a turn bottle-feeding me; at least they didn’t insist a drink a full bottle for each! But I was compelled to make baby noises (Goo-goo, gah-gah, and so forth).

It was about then that I belatedly realized that Al and Ron had cameras and apparently were taking pictures of all this! But I didn’t dare object and possibly flub my initiation. I knew that they’d be unlikely to spread the pictures to anyone who wasn’t already a witness to my humiliation. In fact, I never did see those pictures and have since wondered if those cameras weren’t just a ruse to rile me. I never did find out, though I have seen pictures of me being tied and tormented by the others that were taken since with my knowledge and consent. I’m glad though that there was no such thing as the Internet to post embarrassing photographs on at the time.

Once everyone present had gotten their fill of feeding the baby (and long past the time I had gotten my fill of lukewarm milk!), it was time for another change. I was untied, taken up to the tree-house, given a woman’s hat and a maternity dress, and told to put them on! I almost balked at this but decided I’d better do it. When I had, two air-filled balloons were stuffed into the predictable places, and sure enough thanks to these and my pot belly I DID look like a pregnant woman. I was tied up, laid down, and sat on again. All I clearly remember from this bizarre incident was Randy sitting on my belly and proclaiming, “I’m STILL baby-sitting!” This got a laugh from some of the others; but to this day I don’t think it was all THAT funny.

Randy later admitted that at HIS initiation he’d had to wear a skimpy two-piece balloon-stuffed bikini. With HIS slim figure and long hair, he might have made a passable and good-looking girl at that - if he weren’t so wiry and had such athletic muscle definition. He was slender all right, but he wasn’t a skinny weakling nor effeminate whatsoever.

The baby idea was an original one that had never been used before me. When Randy was the ‘woman’, the others had made a great show of pretending to fondle his ‘breasts’ and kissing him. Fortunately I was spared the indignity of the first. I was spared the second too, though I am doubtful of how fortunate for me THAT was.

Afterward I was allowed to change back into my Speedos (in privacy inside the tree-house, as before) and came back outside, to be staked down like I was at the pond to serve as everyone’s butt stool and all-around plaything as usual for the rest of the afternoon. About the only difference from previous occasions was that the play was a bit rougher and more persistent (face slaps were harder and more numerous, for instance) and I was ordered to do such degrading things as kiss someone’s knees as they sat on me or sing a Beatle’s Song (like Karaoke but without the music) while one of them bounced (gently) on my belly. I was forced to kiss feet more than once and sniff dirty underwear (with or without the wearer inside them) many times. But there was nothing involving ‘adult’ things at any time; there was no full nudity or genital touching (other than an occasional innocent light whap in the nuts) like I had imagined (perhaps even hoped) that there would be, and didn’t dare ask at the time if there ever would be.

Years later there began to be among some of us as we got older and bolder and experimented more, but that’s a different story for another time. At this time there was none of that going on that I know of except in my own imagination – and probably some of theirs as well.

Anyway, I managed to get through the afternoon without disobeying an order (or being punished for it) no matter how weird it was. But it turned out that they were taking it easy on me then. As afternoon progressed into evening, things got a little tougher for me.

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Jason Toddman
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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 16

Sometime during the mid-afternoon I had been tape gagged. Now I saw one of my own sneakers being shoved up to my face by a gleeful Walter, who was straddling my chest at the time.

I don’t know how or when that shoe was brought along, as I’d arrived bare-footed, but there it was! “Payback time!” Walter told me – obviously carrying a grudge from the time Brian had tied my sneaker to HIS face and Michael had tied the other to Randy's. I’d had nothing to do with that, but it was considered my fault my sneaker had been chosen as a torture device, and now I had to pay the piper.

Randy lifted up my (resisting) head from behind, my glasses were taken off, and the unlaced mouth of the sneaker was shoved into my gagged face by Walter’s firm hand. Randy’s expert hands re-tied the laces so that the sneaker was firmly affixed to my face like that hand-shaped critter from the movie “Alien”. I almost would have preferred the alien had I known about it (that movie didn’t come along until nine years later). Those sneakers were old, well-used, had experienced many strange environments except those involving foot powders and Odor Eaters, and retained the stench of every last one of them. I could still breathe freely enough as there was still air circulating, but by the time that ordeal was over I breathed the fresh air like there was no tomorrow. I couldn’t help but wonder what diseased mind had invented that torture.

I vowed right then that this would be the last visit I ever made to my cousins or their friends without wearing brand new sneakers. With Odor Eaters!

Other tortures were of a similar vein. Many of the boys there wore socks that had evidently been worn for a long time without a wash (I found this was done deliberately for this special occasion), and they would plant a socked foot gently on my face to force me to smell them. They were careful to apply no pressure; the smell was torment enough anyway. Once my nose became numb to one smell, a different smell torture from a different foot was then applied. I don’t even want to know what some of those kids must have been walking or wading in to pick up some of those stinks! Sometimes they’d be barefoot too (my nose stuck between the big toe and the next one over), and those were even nastier because of the dirt and sweat under their feet.

But of course the worst smell torture of all would be when one or the others would kneel or squat over my helplessly upturned face – but instead of sitting down on it (or at most putting very little weight on it) would indulge in some flatulence instead! ‘Nuff said about that one, as I’m sure most people would agree!

But other than subjecting me to various smell tortures and making me occasionally follow weird orders or face punishment, I was enduring nothing I hadn’t been enduring all along. I was simply enduring them more intensely and steadily and getting fewer and fewer breaks where I could just lay or sit in peace and quiet. Tickle tortures especially became more numerous and intense, with fewer and fewer breaks to catch my breath.

But I soon found that the new and more intense tortures were reserved as punishments for disobeying orders, as I discovered when I disobeyed my second one. It was suppertime and the others were enjoying a meal they’d gotten by takeout from some restaurant nearby and brought here. Everyone else had gotten to pick what they got. My meal was selected for me by Walter. He got me liver, and ordered me to eat it.

It was undoubtedly perfectly good liver; the other boys hadn’t done anything to it to make it disgusting to anyone who likes liver. But they wouldn’t have had to! I detest liver more than anything, which Walter knew perfectly well when he ordered my meal (we’d had liver on a previous visit to his house years before). So when he ordered me to eat liver, he picked the perfect means to incite me to disobey and he knew it!

I tried and actually managed to choke down a few bites of the stuff. But eventually I couldn’t go on and refused. Technically I suppose they could have chosen to call it an objection to torture and flunk me then and there, but no one wanted to do that. They ‘generously’ decided I had disobeyed order number two. And since it was deliberate this time (unlike the first, which was an accident as well as the first time and so mercifully they’d given me a break), it called for a much harsher punishment.

The cut off gloves were placed on my hands, which were then firmly tied together in front of me. My ankles and knees were tied together as well after I was made to stand where the cage formerly did (it had been put back together and packed off to one side for later use). A rope was lowered from the platform on the tree branch above, and then I knew what would happen next. The rope was tied securely to my wrists, and then was pulled up again – and me along with it. This time I wasn’t just stood up on my tip-toes but pulled up a full two feet in the air.

Thanks to the gloves providing padding, the pain in my wrists wasn’t as bad as you would think (as was the intention) but it wasn’t a walk in the park either. The strain on my arms and shoulders was where the real pain was. But this wasn’t the whole punishment. I now had to make a choice between the lesser of two evils; which in itself was a punishment of sorts.

“Here’s the deal,” Walter told me (apparently his catch-phrase of the day). “You can choose between hanging up there for a full thirty minutes but with nothing further being done to you, or you can hang up there five minutes while I beat you with my belt. Take your pick. ”

It could have been worse. My aunt had an antique buggy whip lying somewhere around the house; I wasn’t sure why but I doubt it had ever been used on anything but horses and not even that anytime in this (that is, the 20th) century. I didn’t know what it felt like to be whipped, but I knew I couldn’t endure a half hour of hanging by my wrists (even with that padding to make it easier) without crying like a baby. Had they chosen to hang me by handcuffs without protection as they briefly did earlier, I’d already be crying – if not screaming! Walter had already explained that restriction against pain didn’t fully apply to punishments. There were still limits of course, but either way I was going to hurt one hell of a lot more than was usually allowed.

As I currently wasn’t allowed to speak other than to simply answer a question that had been put to me, I couldn’t ask him for advice. So I picked the beating in hopes that he’d show some mercy and not whale on me as hard as he could. After all, he’d deliberately put me into this terrible predicament in the first place.

At first my trust in him seemed badly placed; that first stroke hurt like hell as it whipped across my back, though I somehow managed to choke back an outcry other than a sudden hissing gasp. Apparently Walter had experience doing this (something I’d failed to think of before) and knew what he was doing. But the next four strokes were not so bad (though still weren’t any fun), and then that was it. He beat me no further; after all, he never said he’d beat me the entire time. He just let me hang there a couple more minutes (I’m sure it was five minutes on the dot from the time I’d made my decision; Walter was both precise and consistent that way) and then let me down, untied me, and carefully checked over my wrists, ankles, and back.

He later admitted that he’d intended to beat me longer and harder but just didn’t have the heart to after the first time – not only hadn’t I cried like he’d expected but he’d accidentally drawn blood with the buckle. The other four strokes had been applied with the middle of the belt to prevent this from happening again. After that, beatings with belts were banned as a punishment within the club. My trust in his mercy wasn’t so misplaced after all, though I still felt like a crewman from the movie Mutiny on the Bounty.

That evening the other boys practiced various ties on me. Hogties, tying me to a tree, a reverse hogtie like I was when carried on a pole, spread-eagle on a cot, mummified with my wrists bound to my sides… the works. Each time I was tied a new way I was mercilessly tickled for a few minutes before I was untied and retied some other way. I was tied in ways I’d never imagined before that night and some in ways I’ve never seen since. Most made it easy for my captors to sit on me too, needless to say.

Once it got dark, I was tucked away inside the body bag, and this time the hood was placed on me too so that only my eyes, nose, and mouth were visible. The whole night some of the boys took turns sitting on me and harassing me while others slept. The idea was to deprive me of sleep while getting enough rest themselves. At least I was protected from tickle tortures and most other forms of bodily abuse, but at least three boys sat on me (usually knees up to put all their weight on me) at all times, and between their weight and the thickness and snugness of the bag, I commenced to get very uncomfortable. It was a warm night and everyone was in their underwear, while I was bundled up like an Eskimo and getting very, very warm. They gave me all the water I wanted and even allowed me a break every hour or so to cool off and relieve myself. They even fed me real food to make up for that nasty meal of liver earlier. In fact, they let me have whatever I asked for except peace and quiet – and sleep.

Every time I shut my eyes my head would be shaken or my face slapped. If that didn’t rouse me my face got sat on (always braced by feet so that my face remained firmly facing up) until I struggled. Or my belly would be bounced on. Or someone would shoot me in the face with a water pistol. I began to discover that even minor torments became a lot more like real torture when you were tired and sleepy and forced to stay awake.

And this was only the first night!

Someone told me then about other torments they’d considered using on me but had abandoned. One of them (who remained nameless) wanted to tie me to a tree out in the woods and leave me out there alone all night… or at least make me think I was alone. But there was no guarantee of keeping me from sleeping without very close supervision, and anyway I’d know they wouldn’t REALLY leave me unsupervised (and tied without a break) all night. I’m glad they didn’t do it; I still had bad memories of that night (I was about 8) when ny older brother Ike had left me to the mercies of mosquitoes while tied to a tree. I’d been accidentally found by a boy scout the next morning before my brother had returned for me; my wrists chafed raw, my underwear soiled, blindfolded and gagged, and crying my eyes out. Whatever possessed Ike to do that I don’t remember (if I ever knew), but he never did anything like it again.

By morning I felt desperate for sleep, and then finally realized what the point of sleep deprivation was. Even the mildest tortures feel like pure hell when you’re really, really tired. Also, the helplessness factor is revved up another notch or two as well when you have no energy to speak of.

I felt a bit better once the sun was shining, and felt semi-normal by breakfast time. Even so, I realized by then that this ordeal was not going to be as easy as I had thought.

I was cuffed, shackled, and taken away to the pond as we had done on previous occasions; led on a leash by one boy and ridden by another. I was much more tired and less sure-footed than usual though this time. The only saving grace was that the trip from the tree-house was much shorter than it was from my aunt’s house. But instead of getting to blissfully lie down when we reached the pond, I was backed against a tree trunk and my wrists handcuffed to a branch above my head. I was thus forced to stand on my feet the whole time as it was impossible to sit; the only other option was to hang by my wrists as I crouched and that was too painful after a few moments at a time and not at all restful. All the others went swimming (including George and Al, who were not around for the previous day’s torture) except for one boy whose job apparently was to insure I didn’t somehow take a nap standing up. This chore was taken in shifts so that everyone had their chance to go swimming.

Then, horror of horrors, everyone wanted to go horseback riding, and of course I was Mr. Ed! I was ridden and led along all the back trails in the area for hours, and I was one footsore and weary nag by the end of it. And it was only lunchtime.

The kids had pity on me then and let me lie down (tied up and sat on, of course) while I was handfed something; I was so tired I didn’t even notice what it was. Once I showed trouble staying awake though my captors hardened their hearts and tied me standing erect again the same way as before while they resumed swimming. Then it was time for more Jason-back rides for another couple of hours. By the time I was taken back to the tree-house at around three o’clock, I was almost ready to collapse.

At that point I hadn’t failed to follow any further orders; I had still used up only 2 of my 10 chances. But they hadn’t really been trying up to then. For the rest of the afternoon and that evening that all changed, and the ruthless imps sought any excuse they could to punish me!

In short, I became their work slave!

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Jason Toddman
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Post by Jason Toddman »

PART 17

Up to this point the others had been sporadically treating me like a dog – literally. For the next few hours it became the running theme of my initiation. Once back at the tree-house clearing, I had to go about on my hands and knees everywhere I went (or rather, was led as I wore the leash much of the time and the others took turns holding the other end). I had to go back into the doghouse where I would be locked up, only to immediately be hauled out again to perform tricks. I had to ‘bark’ on command, roll over, play dead, and beg for treats a few more times (candy, for the most part). My cuffs and hobbles were removed at the start of this of course, so at least my movements were unimpeded except for wearing a leash and collar much of the time.

The only time I had the leash off as well was when I played ‘fetch’. Someone had a rubber bone dog toy that was continually tossed somewhere and I had to go fetch it; like a dog – by going on hands and knees to it, bending down, grabbing it with my mouth without using my hands, and carrying it back to whoever tossed it still down on my hands and knees. Then they’d toss the damned thing again and the process would start over. At the start this was okay; it was fortunately a brand new toy that had never been exposed to a dog’s mouth so there were no sanitation issues on that score. But before they tired of the game it was coated with dirt, grass, and all sorts of unpleasant debris that didn’t improve its taste one bit. Someone wanted me to fetch a Frisbee in mid-air too, but at least I was allowed to use my hands and stand up for that one.

But the ultimate was when we had suppertime again. I feared a repeat of the liver gag, but they actually fed me something almost everyone (except vegetarians) likes: steak tips. The punch line was that they were in a (new and spotless, thank Goodness) doggie bowl, and I had to get them using only my mouth too. I also had to lap up liquid (Hawaiian Punch) from a dog’s water dish. It was rather messy but I did it, though I’d have definitely drawn the line at these pranks and taken my punishment had they tried to make me do this from USED dog dishes. They liked their practical jokes, but at least they weren’t needlessly disgusting about it.

Then I had to beg for dessert: a small dog biscuit. And I was ordered to eat it too, though at least I was allowed to use my hands for this one so I could take small, manageable bites from that hard as a rock biscuit. I can’t say that I enjoyed eating the damned thing (the taste wasn’t TOO bad but it seemed as hard as a rock) but it was one of the smaller kinds of dog biscuit and I managed to get it down. Luckily they thought feeding me one was hilarious enough and didn’t try to make me eat a whole boxful.

Then it was a brief respite in the doghouse for a bit, and then they hauled me out yet again. Instead of a pet dog I now became a sled dog. They rigged me up to a toboggan David owned and I had to drag the thing while it contained one or (if they were small) two passengers at a time all around the grass-covered clearing. The traction was such that I couldn’t handle more passengers at once; though I could’ve managed better had it been winter and there was snow on the ground, of course. If I was too slow for my passengers, or tried to catch a breather, my legs or butt got towel whipped by an ‘enforcer’ standing by me at all times.

I had to do exercises in between other tasks. The rope was lowered from the tree platform and I had to climb up it a number of times; I was not a good rope climber then (or since) but I managed it. I had to do push-ups, jumping jacks, sit-ups, more push-ups with Kevin sitting on my back, windmills, jog ten laps around the tree, and so on.

I also had to fetch and carry at odd intervals. There was a box of comic books inside the tree-house that must have weighed more than fifty pounds. I had to take it out of the tree-house, set it down at a specified location, do something else (such as push-ups), take that box over to some other part of the clearing, run 10 laps around the tree, go back to that box and lug it somewhere else, fetch a stick, haul that box again; you get the idea.
I also had to rearrange some loose rocks inside the clearing just for variety. Most weighed only about thirty pounds or so but they were dirty and awkward to carry.

The idea of course was to run me ragged. No matter how tired and worn out I was getting, I had to stay active and do whatever I was told. I got five minute rest breaks (locked up inside the ‘doghouse’) every hour to catch my breath, and that was it. I could of course have quit at any time without punishment - and flubbed the initiation; but I was determined not to be a quitter in front of the first friends I ever had as my own (everyone I knew in my home town was Ike’s friend, not mine). Granted they didn’t treat me too much as a friend during this weekend, but who wants an initiation that you don’t have to work for? And they really made me work for it.

When I got too exhausted to keep up the pace though, they didn’t count my inability to haul that box around anymore as an act of disobedience to punish – as I thought they would for a long while. They simply gave me steadily easier tasks to do. The idea was to keep me moving and tire me out; not work me into a heart attack. And so I was able to keep performing various tasks right up to about midnight, when they finally relented from the work detail and began the next phase of my ordeal.

Up to then I had racked up no further ‘demerits’ for disobeying an order; I still stood at two ‘demerits’ out of a maximum allowance of nine. But now it got harder.

Up to then it was not too hard to resist the urge to sleep because I was kept moving and the blood kept flowing; I was tired but too active to be sleepy. Now though, they put me untied inside a very comfortable unmodified sleeping bag – and commanded me to stay awake and keep my eyes open! Any time I let my eyelids close for more than ten seconds counted as disobedience to an order and would be punished the next morning (the punishments were delayed so that I wouldn’t be aroused and find it less difficult to stay awake; the fiends).

The only discomfort would be when I was slapped awake by one of the kids who watched me at all times (but did not sit on me). Whenever this rousing had to be done counted as disobedience. As I had used up only two chances out of ten, this could happen up to seven times without my flunking the initiation. If there were an eighth time or if I fell so firmly asleep that I could (or would) not be roused, I would flunk my initiation and have to do it all over again later. The only upside to failing would be that the punishments I had accumulated overnight would not be enforced – UNLESS I made a second try, in which case they’d be applied almost immediately! Quite an incentive not to fail the first time!

What made this so hard was that now they did their best to make me comfortable – and sleepy. I was completely untied and any aches or rope-burns were carefully treated. I was given whatever food and water I wanted that was available so that there was no discomfort from hunger or thirst. The sleeping bag (and a pillow) was soft, comfortable, and not at all restrictive like the modified ‘body bag’. And no one sat on me or otherwise disturbed me (if they had, staying awake would probably have been more pleasurable – and that was the whole point). The only real restriction was that I was not allowed to get up out of the sleeping bag to move around and help wake myself up except for short (and semi-supervised) ‘bathroom’ breaks outside; and these were limited to three for the night (I only took one). I could sit up inside the sleeping bag, but only briefly unless I could demonstrate I was having a muscle cramp or a difficult-to-reach itch or something along those lines.

In other words, I was so relaxed and tired that staying awake without being allowed to move around was as difficult as climbing Mount Everest!

Had this been a decade or two later, a cornball like Randy would have been sure to have quoted Jim Varney: “You snooze, you lose!”

It was the longest night of my life up to that point. Every so often before this I’d have a brief problem with insomnia; usually but not always when I happened to be tied up. Now, when it would really have been helpful to have this condition, insomnia was nowhere to be found! I was on my own.

To try to keep awake, I tried to engage some of the others in conversation, but had forgotten I was still under orders not to talk – precisely for this reason, probably. So I blew another order right off the bat! The kid I tried to talk to was Kevin, and even though no one else witnessed my lapse (the rest were asleep or outside – David and his brothers were at home) he wouldn’t give me a break on this either, the little weasel!

So much for conversation! I considered trying to read but nothing was within reach and I wasn’t allowed to climb out of the sleeping bag to get something. Nor, I came to find, would I be allowed to take something to read with me back to the sleeping bag when coming back from an outdoor pit stop.

Even that radio spouting Gospel Music would have been (almost) a relief at this point. If I had a radio, I could at least find a more interesting station to listen to and pass the time.

Whoever designed this initiation ceremony must have been a cruel, cruel bastard. I never did find out who HAD designed it (no one would own up to it or rat out the real culprit), but it had to have been either David (bondage device inventor extraordinaire) or Walter (bondage torture inventor extraordinaire), as they were the founders of this group (along with Randy, who I didn’t think to be that clever but he was certainly that devious) in the first place and probably never had to endure it themselves.

At least one boy (and often two or more) was set to watch me at all times (while the others slept) to make sure I didn’t close my eyes for more than the allowed limit of ten seconds at a time. I found early on that trying to rest my eyes for 9 seconds or less at a time for as often as I wanted was no solution; quite the reverse! The more I closed my eyes even for a second, the harder it was to open them again. And my sentries were posted where they could clearly see whether my eyes were closed or not (and I was required to lie in such a way as to keep my eyes visible to at least one of them).

Within an hour after this part of the ordeal began, I would’ve done almost anything short of murder (or quitting) for a catnap.

My guards changed shifts every couple of hours. Later guards roused from sleep were in pairs to ensure that at least one would be alert enough to keep me (and his companion) awake and alert after their own truncated rest. There was a possibility both guards would lapse into sleep at the same time, but the possibility was far greater that I’d be the one caught napping should I try to take advantage of such an event. So even if both guards looked like they were napping (and assuming they weren’t deliberately trying to trick me into relaxing enough to close my eyes for too long), I was determined to maintain myself unwavering state of alertness and – uh – awakedness, and, uhh, and… umm…

SLAP! “Wake up, Jason!”

Oh, crap! I’d never even noticed I’d closed my eyes. Morpheus and the Japanese Sand Man must’ve crept up on me unawares and ambushed me! Now I’d blown an order for a fourth time. I almost blew it for the fifth time too right then, when I almost yelled an angry protest for being so rudely awakened. The wake-up call (I was too dazed to notice who had done it) had sounded like a shout to my startled ears but was only a whisper that disturbed none of the kids asleep in their cots. The slap had seemed like a gunshot, but was just a light slap intended to rouse me rather than hurt.

I just had to stay awake! I wanted to succeed in my initiation; and I wanted to face no more punishments! I now had two punishments awaiting me in the morning; the nature of which had not yet been revealed to me. I imagined the most ghoulish of tortures; boiling in oil; stretched on the rack; being hung upside down by my feet; forced to eat liver…

The thought of THAT helped to keep me wide awake for a few minutes, but eventually the thought assumed the same level of importance as the imminence of Hellfire and brimstone in the Hereafter for the average atheist and once again I began to drowse.

GOD! Was this horrible night never going to end?

I closed my eyes… for just a second…

A small noise suddenly awakened me. Oh, no! Had I slept again and been caught? I raised my head and hastily looked around. My guards were at their posts and both were fast asleep. Dereliction of duty! Apparently they had dozed off just about the same time I had, and one of them had just made a small noise that had failed to awaken either of THEM but had disturbed my shell-like ears enough to awaken ME.

I looked at my watch the moment I realized what had happened; luckily I had checked it just before I must have nodded off. Good grief, I had managed to nap for over 60 minutes and didn’t get caught! Nuts to YOU, Jim Varney! Sometimes you can snooze and not lose!

My awakening was just in time too, as one of the guards (I think it was Al) woke up suddenly with a start and shook the other awake as well (that one was definitely George). After that they both eyed me like hawks until it was time for a changing of the guard. We even engaged in a silent staring contest for a while until we all broke out in wide grins.

I suppose I should have reported my failure to stay awake and flubbed the initiation, but I didn’t. Hell, I was under orders to stay quiet and remain in my sleeping bag! So I did. And since my guards awakened on their own, had either failed to notice how much time had passed or pretended to in order to save their own hides from a punishment, and never saw me napping and never questioned me, I decided that honesty was NOT the best policy and kept my mouth shut. They HAD to have noticed that the time they were on guard duty seemed awfully short though, but if so they never admitted it - and I sure as Hell never brought the subject up!

After my secret nap, staying awake was still difficult but not the Herculean task that it was before. I managed to get through the rest of the night without closing my eyes once other than to blink or to really rest my eyes for only a second.

Dawn finally came, though it wasn’t until about eight in the morning that the others began to bestir themselves in general and complete the last phase of my initiation.

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PART 18

The first thing my captors made me do in the morning was to get dressed.

I mean that literally.

I had to wear a girl’s dress… with lipstick, eyeliner, mascara, and whatever other feminine make-up products those bozos could lay their hands on. It turned out Al had an older sister just about my size whose dress and other stuff he borrowed (stole) for the occasion (I’d meet her a year later). She even had a pair of shoes (thankfully not high-heeled) that were only half a size too small for me.

They had to tie me down and sit on me (the only pleasurable part of this ordeal) to put the make-up on me (with an alarming level of skill for boys), but they managed it despite my heroic struggles… which of course were cut short with a single command anyway when they threatened to make a mess. When they let me up again and untied me, they topped off the ensemble with a lady’s wig belonging to my own aunt.

This might have been a mere sequel to the maternity dress prank from before, but there was an added twist this time. I was ordered to walk up to the front door to David’s house (about two hundred yards beyond the far side of the clearing), ring the doorbell in full view of whoever came by, and ask whoever answered for five bucks for snacks for our group. I was allowed to say I was a new friend of David’s and that I was related to his friends Walt and Randy. I was NOT allowed to say why I was wearing a dress even if asked. If pressed, I had to say I simply enjoyed wearing dresses. Under no circumstances on pain of being locked in a cage forever (a threat I think I actually believed at the time) was I to mention the club or what it was all about.

I almost quit my initiation then and there. Private humiliation was one thing, but this…

After all, I didn’t really aspire to the privilege of tying up and sitting on anyone else in the gang; Hell, I much preferred being on the bottom. It may seem unmanly to some to admit it, but I’m a masochist through and through. Besides, considering my size even then, the idea of sitting on any of the smaller, younger members of the gang (whoever willing they may have been) scared me spit-less. I could deal with the idea of other (especially if smaller) kids tormenting me for fun, but the idea of doing it the other way around was - to me - totally inconceivable. Once years before I had accidentally slightly injured a kid I was wrestling with and was sick with depression for days afterward - even though he’d never blamed me for it and had been almost my own size. Even Walter and David were too much lighter than me (even if probably just as stronger or stronger) for me to consider doing this.

No, the only reason I was doing this was pride, pure and simple. It was fine to be everyone’s furniture as long as they knew you had guts (hmm, in my case not quite the right word). Anyway, as long as they knew you were not a weakling or a pushover… it was okay. But if I never proved myself, I was afraid my masochism might eventually cause them to (figuratively, that is) always look down on me. I couldn’t allow THAT!

So I dressed up like a girl to show how tough I was. Yeah; adolescent logic is great, isn’t it? Yet they all understood the basic concept: it takes real guts to look like a total fool in public on purpose! I think my high tolerance for degradation and private humiliation was the only thing that gave me the nerve to go on with this.

Feeling vaguely like Little Red Riding Hood going to meet the Big Bad Wolf, I skipped on through the back yard like a little girl (this was also required of me) up to the street and to the front door. David’s house was in a residential area that was far less isolated than my aunt’s house was; but thank goodness it was Sunday and the streets were almost deserted of witnesses to my shame! That no one in that area knew me from Adam (or Eve) wasn’t the point; I didn’t want to be seen and laughed at. Even with the wig, I was sure I didn’t pass for a girl even from a distance; especially not in broad daylight!

Anxious to get this horror over with, I rang the doorbell and awaited the worst. A man in his late forties opened the door and looked at me; puzzled at first and then amused.

“Who is it, dear?” I could hear a woman’s voice answer from inside the house.

“Just another of David’s friends going through his initiation, dear!” he called back.

My slack-jawed look of amazement got a bigger grin than the sight of me in a dress, and I was no more coherent in talking than as if I was muzzle-gagged.

“Come on in,” said the man as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “My wife and I always like to meet new members of David’s tie-up club.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. “Y-y-you kn-know ab-about th-that?” I finally managed to stammer out, feeling like I’d been had.

“Oh Hell yes,” replied David’s father. “We’ve known for years now. David and his brothers are always wrestling and tying up one another or some of their other friends. Often right here inside the house while we’re home. It doesn’t bother us. It keeps them active and fit and they enjoy it and don’t hurt one another – much – so what’s the harm? My brothers and I did the same things when we were Michael’s age. I think you’re the fifth ‘girl’ David and the others have sent here to fetch something for the gang.”

“Seventh, dear,” his wife corrected him. "There was also Ron, Al, George, Kevin, Myron and..." She also named the kid whose name I've forgotten.

“Oh, yes,” he admitted jovially, looking back as his wife and then back to me. “What is this time, anyway?” he asked. “David always gives his ‘girls’ a mission.”

“Uhh… five bucks for snacks and sodas,” I answered. David’s dad fished it out of his pocket without a thought and placed it right inside my hand with a smile.

That’s when it finally hit me that all those instructions about maintaining secrecy about the club had been for the sole purpose of psyching me out!!! David had known his folks would immediately put me at ease even though they hadn't known about this particular visit ahead of time. I was relived and annoyed at the same time. ‘Wait till I get my hands on you, David!’ I silently vowed.

“Bet you’re glad that part’s over, huh?” David’s dad said to me then as he escorted me to the relative privacy of the back door. “Don’t let them run you ragged, son! David and his friends like their pranks, but they’re good kids. You must be okay too if you’re willing to let them put you though this.” He concluded, patting me on the back like an uncle.

Meeting David’s parents was sure a lot easier than I’d expected. He and his brothers were lucky to have such a cool, understanding mother and father. Later on, when we played tie-up games inside their house, there’d be several of us kids bound and gagged in their living room (sometimes, the following summer, stripped right down to our underwear) watching TV with them, and David’s folks never batted an eyebrow (not even when it was their own kids among those who were prisoners). Not even if one or more of those kids was sitting on me at the time. As long as no one tried to tie THEM up, David’s parents were cool with it all.

Of course when I got back to where the others were waiting for me they were laughing and swapping jokes at my expense. But after the unexpectedly gentle welcome I had received at David’s house, I didn’t mind at all and laughed right along with them. I was just glad that I hadn’t been required to do this cross-dressing act in front of my own aunt or my mother!

It was now quarter till ten o’clock and I thought my initiation had only two more hours to go. But I soon learned I was mistaken about that. I had disobeyed orders twice last night, and as punishment my initiation was to be extended by twelve hours – per order! I had to endure this torment – and lack of sleep – for another full day!!! Unless…

By ten o’clock I had been stripped to my Speedos again and tied with every strand of rope the various members of the club could lay their hands on. I was practically wrapped from head to toe with tightly tied ropes like a caterpillar in its cocoon and laid on a sleeping bag with a pillow under my head. If I could get myself entirely free of these ropes by noon (when my initiation was supposed to be over), the ‘penalty’ period would be waived altogether and my initiation would be finished successfully. If I failed to free myself by noon but managed it by six in the evening, one punishment would be waived but I’d have to endure the other (two hours of non-stop tickling by the entire gang) before my initiation was done. If I failed to get free by six, or if I gave up, then I had another night of Hell to look forward to (constantly tormented and allowed no rest the whole night). This would be followed the next morning by 25 spanks administered with paddles by EACH AND EVERY member of the gang present; which was sure to leave my hindquarters redder than red and throbbing like my heart!

However, there would be no more demerits or extra punishments for disobeying further orders. But wanting to quit or asking anyone to stop what they were doing to me even once would mean failure, and my ordeal would have gone for nothing. The only way to avoid this seemingly horrible fate was to get free of the ropes unaided within two hours.

I might as well have been asked to lift a fully-loaded dump truck.

I was constantly supervised of course in case I got into trouble from lost circulation or required something (water, scratch an itch, etc.). No one was to interfere with my progress in any way (including sitting on or tormenting me or re-tying me if I made any headway), and they were to give me water whenever I asked for it. I did not ask for it often, because if I had to go wee-wee I either had to do it on myself while bound or surrender in order to go freely - and submit to the two punishments as arranged afterward immediately (and for a longer duration). The usual four-hour tie-up limit was waived as I was of course free to give up at any time. But, being stubborn, I refused to surrender.

Having been secured by bondage experts however, I made no noticeable progress in untying myself whatsoever even though I held out until the time limit was up. This is partially because by noon it was so obvious that I was doomed and was so exhausted that I fell asleep. Since I was pretty free to do whatever I wanted within the time limit (unlike most of the rest of my initiation) while I was officially trying to escape, this was allowed.

So for about six hours I got whatever sleep I could and no one disturbed me. In fact, I got the impression afterward that the others had been impressed by my apparent good sportsmanship, had some pity on me and went out of their way to make it quiet enough so that I could sleep. Though my cocoon was as tight and as secure as could be, it wasn’t at all uncomfortable (unless you count the occasional out of reach itch, which another boy would duly scratch for me upon request if it was a place he could reach); so I slept like a baby.

When the hour of doom arrived, I was awakened, untied, given the opportunity to relieve myself, take care of rope-burns and other minor abrasions, and then re-tied again. Then I was zipped up into the body bag to helplessly endure yet another sleepless night of torture. But my rest – even tied as I had been – has refreshed me somewhat, and since much of my torture consisted on being sat on and tormented in ways already described and in most cases enjoyed, I was able to endure it all with considerable relish. I might have found it all entertaining even had I not taken my long nap, but now I was able to enjoy all the attention – probably much more than everyone there had intended, but that was all right.

In the morning I was released from the body bag, tied spread-eagle onto a cot lying on my stomach, and given my final punishment: 25 whacks with a paddle from everyone present. Luckily (I suppose) for me Walter and Randy had gone home the previous night (explaining to Aunt Yvette that I was having a sleepover at David’s place) so didn’t get to add their strong-armed contribution to the fun. This was a mercy as they certainly had the strongest arms in the club. That still left David, Brian, Michael, Al, Ron, Kevin, and George; but all except David either had too much sympathy for me at that point or simply were too tired that early in the morning and spanked like girls. David though did his enthusiastic best to make up for it but fortunately went last or the efforts of the others on a tenderized bottom might have been more effective.

Everyone congratulated me when I was finally freed and called me the best good sport ever since the club started. Well, at least I’d managed to do *something* better than anyone else supposedly had, so that was something my abused pride could be satisfied with.

My cousins did not make it back within the time limit to spank me as well because Aunt Yvette insisted on their catching up on some chores before leaving the house. Even though she had gone to work and thus was in no position to know if (or make sure that) her commands were being carried out, they were too dutiful to complete their chores beforehand to even thinking about leaving. And so I finished my initiation still able to sit down without too much pain.

After we all had breakfast at David’s house - prepared by the most lovingly patient and understanding set of parents an active boy like David could wish for – we all re-adjourned in his bedroom. The other boys celebrated my new membership by tying me down and torturing me in the usual way the rest of the day. I was given the option of having this done to anyone else I chose but I’m not into giving torture; I worked for full membership just for status in the club not so I’d get to torture someone else. So as his bed was as wide as Randy’s and it was his house, David was tied up next to me and we enjoyed being sat on and tortured by the others together.

I spent a wonderful week with the others before it was time for my mother to return and she and I went back home; my father had to stay at the hospital a while longer but he was recovering and returned home the following week. I missed my new friends though and corresponded with them regularly but it wasn’t the same. We had the usual holiday visits with my cousins over the next few months but they were bittersweet in their brevity. The only real high point of those visits is that one was an overnighter and I got to spend a night with Randy and Walter over Christmas. The best moment was when they praised me for losing some weight; though I’d grown another inch or two, I’d lost 20 pounds.

But that year in general was a comparatively sad and lonely one for me until one day late in the spring dad got ill again; even worse than the first time. I was then asked if I’d mind spending the entire summer with my cousins this year.

I made it abundantly clear I had no objections at all.

The next summer was even cooler than the last. My cousins had grown little bigger but were even more athletic and pleasing to look at than before. I had grown several inches and now stood at 5’ 10; but wasn’t a pound heavier than last summer. This time, my 170 pounds were more fit than flab (though I wasn’t an athlete by any means – let alone one like David, Randy, or Walter), and I wasn’t ashamed of being seen in public with my shirt off. Some of the younger kids in the club complained than my belly wasn’t as soft to sit on as it had been but otherwise had no complaints.

It was a summer with new experiences, new discoveries, and more new friends. And it lasted over two months rather than two weeks. I’ll tell you all about that summer too in a new story.

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