LONGHOLME ISLAND (mmmm/mmm)

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Gino
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Post by Gino »

I am ready for the island :D
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Yes, I wonder who has it now.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Xtc »

Yes, I wonder who has it now.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
User avatar
Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 3


Trevor’s Second Trial


When Trevor returned, he noticed that his new friends had been busy. He knew what the ropes, football scarves and gaffer tape were for and he could guess how the plank was going to be used, but he wondered what the hell the crates were for and why the plank had a hole in it.

“Blindfold first?” That was Dave.

“Blindfold first,” confirmed his big brother.

Dave wrapped one of the numerous football scarves from the store several times round Trevor’s eyes and his upper face in general and tucked the end in before Roy taped over the top of it several times. He was obviously feeling generous, that way the tape would not tangle with Trevor’s own rapidly drying tangle of hair.

“Open wide.” Trevor obediently did as he was told as the unseen Stewart pushed the customary knotted cloth into his mouth and tied it securely behind his neck.

“Tape?” That was Roy’s voice.

“Tape. - - - Ta!” That was Rob’s. Rob was a bit more cavalier than his brother had been and far more generous as he wrapped Trevor’s lower face into obscurity.

The Lennox brothers meanwhile, both of whom now sported royal blue square-leg briefs, went to collect their other prisoner while the MacGregors marched their unresisting captive towards the crates and guided him to stand on one of them. Trevor felt his wrists being tied with his hands palm to palm behind him; whoever was doing it didn’t seem to be sparing the rope. He thought he heard Stewart declaring his satisfaction with the snugness of the bonds as he felt hands pulling them around quite assertively.

“OK, Squirt, your go.” Yes, that was definitely Stewart. What Trevor didn’t know was that Stewart was adjusting the loops so that, although he wouldn’t be able to escape easily, the ropes shouldn’t dig in too painfully. Dave started his turn. He pulled Trevor’s elbows slightly closer together and wrapped them four times before completing a cuff-tie that drew them even closer but not too painfully so. “Hey Squirt, you been practicing?” Trevor couldn’t see the beam that had spread across the face of the little pocket Hercules as he brought the rope round the front of his subject, looped it round his elbow cuff and returned it once more before tying it off several times. Trevor’s elbows might not have been painfully close but they were certainly drawn tightly against his back leaving him no scope to move his lower arms whatsoever.

As the Lennox brothers withdrew to examine their handiwork, Trevor started to wonder if that’s all there was going to be to it. After all it was only his first time as a voluntary prisoner. He soon learnt otherwise.

The MacGregor brothers had been busy. The oar that had immobilised Koff overnight was released from the trees and the climbing rope was removed and coiled carefully. Koff was forced unsteadily to his feet and the laughing brothers used the oar to carry the futilely protesting boy towards where Trevor was standing. Upon their release, he fell, still protesting, onto his face.

“Shut up, Koff. I’m sure your mummy wouldn’t like to hear about the language her little Kevin is using.” Dave’s goading didn’t seem to make an appreciable difference to the imprecations that still managed to struggle their way past the knotted cloth and several layers of gaffer tape.

Rob knelt and asked, “OK, mate?” Koff nodded his head on the dust. “Safe word?” He shook his head. That was the way to shut him up. Rob sat, placed his feet on Koff’s side and shuffled his white-speedos-clad bum forwards whilst holding on to the oar. “Brace yourself. On three. One, - - - two, - - -“

“Ngghh! - ‘UN’!”

“I lied!”

“And mummy really wouldn’t have liked that word!”

To the laughter of all four captors, Rob had braced himself against their prisoner and forcefully straightened his legs and drawn his arms backwards thus withdrawing the oar almost completely but leaving the handle propped on his victim’s back, having released his left arm but holding the right one up off the ground. With Roy’s help, Koff was soon disentangled and made to sit.

Rob dusted down his backside but his square-leg briefs, not yet being dry, rendered it a wasted effort and their seat was no longer a pristine white. As Rob vainly tried to remove the sand from his backside, Roy helped Koff, under instruction, to pass his knees, his feet and then his backside through the wrist cuffs so that his wrists were behind him. Rob congratulated Stewart (and himself) on a job well done as he examined Koff’s bindings and found them still to be intact. Koff was dragged to his feet and felt a rope being looped between his wrist-cuffs, round his front and round the other end of the cuffs before being pulled tight and tied off. He wasn’t best impressed by that; not only were his hands now clamped close to his backside but the lower part of the rope loop passed only just above his most precious assets. Koff immediately, and rather ineffectively, tried raising his wrists.

“Stop making a fuss. You’ve got nothing there to worry about in any case.” An indignant Koff continued his struggling.

“If you don’t stop that, we can add a little rope that will make sure you can’t lift your hands.” Rob enhanced his threat by inserting a finger of each hand into the rope about which Koff was now complaining unintelligibly only just wide of his compact Speedo bulge on each side. He took the hint and Rob removed his fingers and ostentatiously and ineffectually wiped them on his victim’s chest. Koff’s “look” was completely wasted by his blindfold. Once he had stopped struggling, Koff felt his elbows being tied. He was grateful that whoever was doing it hadn’t pulled them much closer together during the process because being so broad shouldered made that sort of tie very painful for him before his elbows could be drawn very close together at all. Roy had soon got Koff’s elbows secured closely to his back. He still wished his older brother had applied the threatened crotch rope even though his elbow tie had itself removed any scope the prisoner had for raising his arms.

“OK prisoner, just jump up here please.” Stewart and Dave hopped Koff over to the crate that was not currently being occupied by Trevor and lifted him up to stand back-to-back with the taller prisoner. The two boys leaned against one another. Trevor, having his ankles free added a certain stability to the human construction. Both prisoners were briefly pulled away from one another and then pushed back again. Trevor was right about what the plank was for.

“Good job you haven’t got much body hair, Koff; shame about you, Trev Mate.” Trevor found the abundant hairs on his legs being tugged. “Safe word anyone?”

The prisoners tensed against the plank and adopted a stoical silence.

“OK Trev, feet together.” Once he had done as ordered, he no longer added any stability at all to the work in progress so the older brothers held the prisoners at arm’s length while Roy started at their ankles and wrapped them several times before starting to work his way gradually up their legs with a roll of Trevor’s gaffer tape. He’d obviously splashed out on supplies and bought two heavy duty 75 mm rolls. Fifty metres of gaffer tape goes a really long way if handled carefully and Roy was already an expert.

As Trevor felt the tape working its way up his legs and feeling his stance becoming even more precarious, he found the strange new sensation both vaguely worrying and quite arousing. He was just hoping that that particular aspect wasn’t showing too much. As Roy reached the tops of Koff’s thighs, Rob threatened him with all sorts of punishments that Trevor didn’t understand if he even tried to move his hands before his brother had finished. Roy continued. First Koff and then Trevor felt the fronts and sides of their swimming costumes, not to mention their privates, being covered in tape before Roy started working his way back down again. He got to about as far as Koff’s knees before, in case he ran out of tape, he wound several rounds over one another and tore off the remnant of the roll and smoothed the end down against the rest of the tape. The narrow plank was holding the victims’ legs absolutely rigid and rendering them completely useless for maintaining their balance.

“OK Squirt, well done. Stewart’s turn.” announced Rob. “Roy, you help me support these two. Dave, go and get the block and tackle and set it up.”

“Yes, Oh Great Master,” said Dave, bowing low sarcastically before sidestepping Rob’s poorly aimed kick and running barefoot to the store room.

Stewart took a second roll of gaffer tape and started wrapping it round the two increasingly immobilised boys at about elbow level before continuing down to encase the top of where Roy had left off and returning gradually to Koff’s shoulder level. Several reinforcing turns were wrapped round at that level before Stewart continued wrapping until he’d reached approximately where he’d started. By then, he’d run out of tape and smoothed the end down before stepping back to examine his handiwork.

The MacGregor brothers released their holds on their prisoners and watched them totter enjoying their muffled swearing before catching them several times, letting them fall further each time. After a few minutes Dave had completed his mission and lowered a block and tackle from the branch that he was sitting on. Trevor hadn’t noticed that the Pirates had positioned the crates upon which Koff and he were standing very carefully. They were under a strong bough of probably the only large tree on the island. Dave had climbed the ancient oak with the block and tackle over his shoulder and locked the fixed block to a chain that always stayed in place for just such eventualities. When he dropped the moving block, it stopped just above Trevor’s head.

“Good guess, Little Brother,” called Stewart. Trevor had no idea what was causing the rattling noise just overhead but he was hardly capable of avoiding any such thing. Dave threw the end of the rope to Stewart who kept the block in place.

“Tiiimberrrrr!” shouted Rob and his brother released his hold on the prisoners once more leaving them supported safely (more or less) by the slender red-head. Koff was underneath the sloping plank and tried in vain to remove his feet from between the plank and the crate. At least he had some idea of what was probably happening as Stewart pulled the moving block into the space recently occupied by Koff’s head so that he could right it and thread the rope properly onto the pulleys as Dave climbed down again.

“Heave Ho!” On Stewart’s call Roy and Rob raised the victims again so that Dave could thread the hook of the block and tackle through the hole in the plank. With the advantage of the pulley system Stewart raised the victims to the vertical once more. He worked the end of the rope through an iron ring set in the side of the cannon emplacement causing some alarm in the prisoners as they felt themselves swaying while Stewart applied himself to his task. Between him and Rob they soon had the end of the plank off the ground and the prisoners’ feet off the crates. Once Stewart had secured the rope, they were balanced on the balls of their feet. Gravity soon put that right as the boys slipped very slowly a few inches down the plank.

It was already hot and Trevor and Koff were soon going to start sweating profusely. Although it would loosen the tape from their bodies, their sweat couldn’t penetrate the several layers that the MacGregors had applied. Everybody was already dressed for swimming, Roy in a shiny gold pair of swim-briefs with white panels on the sides, so Dave and he said they were going to cool off for a while and ran off to the landing stage leaving their older brothers to look after the prisoners. The older boys laid out dry towels from their kit, applied sun-block and lay down for some shut-eye. Enjoying yourself can be such hard work.

The gag talk from Koff and Trevor was as much use as nothing really but that didn’t stop them as they stood (eventually) trying to work themselves free of the tape. Yes, Trevor did come to be tied up but he also understood that attempting to escape was also part of the game. The two new, and currently rather close, friends pulled and flexed in vain for a couple of hours in all while the younger Pirates dived repeatedly from the landing stage, fought in the water and made more noise between them than any six normal boys could generate, and their big brothers worked hard on impregnating their towels with factor fifteen.

The plank oscillated reasonably freely, gradually pushing the crates apart, until they offered no reliable support whatsoever to the mummies who gradually slipped down until their feet met the ground once more. With increasingly coordinated, grunt-controlled efforts the boys started forcing themselves off the end of the plank and the more they succeeded, the more the plank oscillated; the more the plank oscillated, the more quickly they seemed to be succeeding. It was probably just as well they didn’t get too far before being noticed – just as well, that is, for the one who might have been on the bottom as they hit the ground if they had parted completely from the board.

Dave and Roy returned screaming to the site, waking up their older brothers and pointing out that their prisoners were escaping. By now, in spite of the sun-block, the tall gingha’s back had gone bright red and it probably wasn’t the best idea that Roy had ever had when he woke his brother with a “friendly” slap on the back. Fortunately, he managed to outrun the still-sleepy Rob for long enough for him to need to return to the prisoners.

By now, the plank had slipped nearly to bum level on Koff and was hanging at a good diagonal. Stewart un-hitched the rope and, using the block and tackle, pulled the boys upright again. Two despairing “uuuurr” sounds escaped the prisoners’ gags. Even without the plank between them, Koff and Trevor still had little scope for movement in their legs, and their backs were still closely drawn to the plank.

Once the MacGregors returned, with Roy breathlessly begging, “Squibs, later, later, squibs, look at the prisoners,” and his brother agreeing to the truce, there would be punishments to be decided. There could only be one Pirate punishment suitable for prisoners who tried to escape. All were quickly agreed. They should walk the plank.



TBC
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but little Speedos always rule.
Gino
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Post by Gino »

always exciting to read :D
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Good to know. Thank you.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Xtc »

LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 4



Walking the Plank



Stewart returned to the rope that was holding the prisoners upright and raised the moving block by about a yard. It was a good job that the old piece of jetsam to which Koff and Trevor had been secured was old and well worn; a splintery piece of timber would have caused considerable distress as the prisoners slipped, slowly at first, off the end of it before collapsing to the ground to the cheers of the others. By then Rob had re-gained his breath and asked Dave to roll the human bundle over to where he was. Dave enjoyed that. I’m not sure that Trevor and Koff did.

Following a warning about the inadvisability of moving too much, Roy and Rob got to work with their sheath knives. They soon had the tape cut from feet to shoulders on one side of the sweat-soaked, and comparatively relieved, captives. The tape immediately adjacent to their bodies had mercifully become detached from their skin and even from their swimming costumes. Now all the pirates got to work. The efficiency with which they did so would lead one to suspect that this wasn’t the first time they’d done this to one another! All four boys went down on their knees and, with each captive getting his own dedicated pair of brothers, they rolled the two protesting, bound boys away from each other. The feel of fresh air was unbelievably welcome but neither one seemed to be saying, “Thank you”.

The Pirates gave their prisoners a couple of minutes to recover before asking, “Safe word, anybody?” Both boys lay as still as possible in their ropes except for the silent shaking of their heads. Koff knew more or less what to expect but the Pirates were well aware that Trevor would not. It was decided that he should go first. At least his ankles were now free. Dave helped him to sit up and warned him that, if he wanted a drink, he’d better be silent when his gag was removed. Trevor nodded his understanding. The whole bed of tape still adhered to itself but it had already separated itself from Trevor’s skin but not entirely from the hair on the back of his head. Dave pulled the whole mass suddenly down to Trevor’s shoulders. Trevor didn’t squeal much.

Dave untied the soggy fabric and dislodged it from Trevor’s mouth, “Well done, mate. Need a drink?”

Trevor nodded and was rewarded with a far from cool draft of water. Dave then checked his blindfold and adjusted it prior to checking the ropes around his wrists, elbows and torso. “Last chance, safe word?”

There was a very short pause before Trevor shook his head and said, “No way.”

In the meantime, Roy had been ministering to Koff in a similar manner but the Pirates had a decision to make: when a prisoner walked the plank, he normally had to be able to walk and, if Koff had his feet untied, he would lose his bet. It was put to the newly un-gagged and refreshed boy that he could lose his bet or take the punishment as he was. Koff must have thought for nearly a second before coming to his carefully considered decision.

“Do your worst, Sea-Scum, I am an Englishman and you can’t . . .” Koff found himself silenced with the knotted cloth again.

“Right, boys, cutlasses at the ready,” urged Pirate Captain Rob. “Get these dogs to their feet.” Sometimes role play was quite satisfying even for boys of their age. Dave and Roy each got one of the prisoners to his feet and led him by an arm while the older boys poked the prisoners with sharp sticks. Fortunately, it wasn’t far to the landing stage but, even so, Koff took an age to bunny-hop the distance even with Roy supporting him and Rob repeatedly prodding his back and backside with his “cutlass”.

Trevor had been much easier to handle and was forced to his knees to await the unseen arrival of his fellow sufferer. Throughout the enterprise there had been plenty of use of such terms as “landlubber” (in fairness, not really appropriate to Koff) and “scurvy dog” (that was, though) as the prisoners were “assisted” along their route. Trevor had time to think while he waited. Exactly what were they going to do to him? He thought he could guess but wasn’t that a bit unsafe? Should he simply say, “Skinny Kid” to get himself released? Would they even release him if he said it? Did he trust these kids? On balance, he knew that he did and tried to think of something defiant to say as he went to his fate.

“Orl traiterrs ‘aves to wark the plank.” announced Stewart in his best Pidgin Pirate as he hauled Trevor to his feet and moved him onto the landing stage. With Stewart’s West Country accent, it was quite difficult to tell that he was even putting it on. “Feed ‘im to the shaarrks, Shipmate Dave.”

Trevor thought “traitor” was a bit strong but he was still prepared to play along. “I am not afraid to die. Behold an English hero!”

“Oh, shut up and get a move on.” Trevor felt Dave’s “cutlass” in the small of his back as he felt the wooden slats of the landing stage under his feet. In truth, even though deep inside, he trusted the Pirates, he wasn’t really feeling quite as brave as he hoped he was sounding. There was still that element of doubt. Especially as he was completely unaware of what Stewart and Rob were doing as he was being prodded along the pier to his “death”.

Eventually Trevor felt the end of the landing stage under the toes of his right foot and managed to move his left foot to be alongside it. Should he jump? Was Dave bluffing? He waited with Dave’s cutlass pushed into his spine between his shoulders.

“Die, Traitor!” That saved him having to make the decision as Dave administered the coup de grace and sent Trevor off the end of the pier and into the water.

There was only momentary panic before Trevor felt the hands of his guffawing friends supporting him and helping him to find his feet. Stewart and Rob can be quiet when the mission calls for it and, as Dave was escorting Trevor to the end of the landing stage, they had slipped quietly into the calm water waiting to ensure that no harm came to the ‘traitor’. As Trevor got his breath back, he was also laughing - in between the swearing and the gasping. Rob pulled the sodden blindfold from Trevor’s head and threw it up on the landing stage and the three friends made their way to the shore.

Koff kind of regretted not having seen Trevor receiving his “christening” but he didn’t have much time to brood upon it before the “executioners” came for him. He already knew the routine. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to walk the plank even with his ankles bound and, once Roy had helped him to his feet and pointed him in the right direction, it took very few prods with the cutlass to get him to the end of the short landing stage from where he positively launched himself into the water. Rob and Stewart dived in just in case of need but Koff was standing, about shoulder deep in the water before they reached him. They guided him to dry land and Rob removed his gag and apologised for forgetting to do it before carrying out sentence as they bunny hopped him to firm ground. Honestly, Koff didn’t care and would only bring it up in the future when he wanted to gain an unfair advantage in any negotiations.

After a short recovery time, Trevor was untied with some difficulty due to the wet ropes and Koff was lifted from the ground by the established Pirates and carried back, complaining volubly, to HQ.


A Relaxing Evening



“Ow! Fuck, what was that for?”

“Just checking your circulation.” called Dave giggling, “Seems to be OK.” After the surprise pinch he did give Koff’s hands and feet a serious examination to check that he was indeed safe. The examination also doubled as a security check on the prisoner’s ropes and the strap round his ankles.

Trevor offered Koff a drink and Koff suggested that he was trying to get him to wet himself. Trevor pretended to look hurt. He was fitting in a treat. Common sense, however, prevailed in the light of the temperatures and Koff actually drank gratefully. Once he’d finished, Koff expected to be gagged again but was grateful for the break when it didn’t happen.

Rob and Stewart dragged Koff over to the large tree and tied him to it so that he was sitting, still blindfolded, in the shade. The tie was a simple one, a non-slip loop was tied round Koff’s neck and the ends of the rope were tied behind the tree, over a small branch. It allowed Koff a certain limited scope for some much-needed movement but no opportunity to free himself. By now, it was late afternoon and everyone was getting hungry. The stoves hadn’t been returned to the store since breakfast and Stewart got the dixie and started the inevitable tinned food stew. Trevor didn’t know why he’d made up all that “Smash” that no one bothered to eat but he was new to this game.

Rob was really suffering by now and moved his sun-block contaminated towel into the shade where he simply lay face down and hurt a lot. The others topped up their sun-block and lay down to pass the time in conversation, which included Koff, until dinner was ready. Pudding was a mars bar – and several doughnuts. Trevor volunteered to feed Koff, although he did remove his blindfold to make things easier for both of them, and Stewart went to the well and cleaned the dixie but not the saucepan that still held the uneaten re-constituted mash.

Most of the boys went back to the beach after dinner to play Frisbee and swim intermittently leaving the unfortunate Rob to look after Koff. Time passed quickly for four of the boys. One of the others was comforting himself in his pain by anticipating his revenge on his little brother, and the other was wondering how long he could hold it before needing to go to the loo.



TBC
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but little Speedos always rule.
Gino
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Post by Gino »

i like this story very much :D
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Thank you for bearing with it.
And. especially, thank you for commenting.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Xtc »

LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 5



Evening Ents.



As the light started fading, Rob lit the Tilley lamps in time for the return of the others. By the time they returned, he’d brewed the drinking chocolate and undone another packet of biscuits. Supper passed peacefully, Koff was helped to eat and drink by Rob who, once more didn’t bother to clean him off afterwards and a game of “go fish” started by lantern light while Rob cleaned the large saucepan. During the card game, Trevor’s overnight accommodation was discussed. Trevor himself didn’t get a say.

It transpired that three of the boys were going to be tied up that night. Koff was the obvious one and Trevor was in no way alarmed to find that he was to be another. The third was the suffering Rob who was so desperate that he had asked to be staked out face down so that he wouldn’t roll over onto his back. He knew he wouldn’t need covering and laid out his li-lo (and a pillow to the cries of “wuss” from the others) and some ropes and stakes ready for his friends to come to his assistance. He was in no hurry; he was just getting ready as the others decided what to do to Trevor. Once that was decided, but before sentence was carried out, Koff asked if he could be removed from the tree to relieve himself. You can always tell who your friends are, can’t you?

“Come on, lads, I need a piss.”

“Want to give up?”

“NO! I just need a piss!”

“It’s a hard life.”

“Looks like you’ll have to wet yourself then.”

“Bastards!”

“You can always give up.”

“No way.”

“OK then, you’d better be able to hold it for about another day.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Give up then.”

“Get stuffed, I’ll just wet myself then.”

“He’s gross.”

“Yeah.”

Koff made a last desperate attempt, “Pleeeease, boys.”

“Is he getting annoying?”

“Yeah.”

“Deal with it, Dave.”

“No, no, pleeeease. I only need a. . .,” was about as far as the plea got before Dave applied one of the customary knotted cloths and tied it tightly in place.

“Is there any tape?”

“Here you go, Brother.”

“Ta.” said Dave as he caught the remainder of the roll that hadn’t been used on Koff and Trevor previously.

“Aff-oo,” said Koff as he saw Dave’s grin.

Once Dave had finished, his big brother suggested that the gag needed testing and went to get some spoons and that large saucepan. “I told you all that mash would come in handy.”

Everyone took a spoon while Dave positioned the saucepan about two yards in front of Koff. He knew there would be no mercy now. They wanted him to fail and he needed to show how hard he was. The other boys knelt within reaching distance of the pot and everyone charged their weapons.

Just for a moment, Rob forgot his pains as he gave the instructions. “Ready,” five large spoons were held upright with their tops being held back by free hands; “Aaaim,” five improvised missile launchers were ostentatiously adjusted; “Fire!” A volley of reconstituted mash flew briefly through the air with most of it hitting its mark somewhere on the helpless Koff. He managed not to give his tormentors the pleasure of a vocal reaction.

“Reload.” Koff just sighed; at least it would be over soon. “Fire at will.” The following free for all soon had potato running down Koff’s chest, lodged in his hair and adhering to his legs.

“Hold your fire!” Koff thought with satisfaction that at least he’d not tested the gag. Rob noticed that as well but not with the same sense of satisfaction. “Hand to hand fighting.”

“Nggh! Nggh” EEE!” Koff started struggling desperately but to absolutely no effect.

Each boy still managed to find a good handful of the gloop by the time they had scraped the saucepan virtually clean. They advanced on Koff who by now was certainly testing his gag. Two assailants rubbed the white gunge into his hair, one into what was showing of his face and two more showed the value of teamwork. Dave and Roy slapped their ammunition onto Koff’s tensed abdomen, Roy held it in position while Dave sat on his legs and eased the waistband of his swim briefs away from his body. The inevitable cheer as Roy pushed as much of the stuff into Koff’s somewhat skimpy briefs as he could was worthy of the winning goal in a World Cup final. Koff knew it had been inevitable and decided that he would be better advised just to sit there and take it. He maintained the most dignified silence of which he was capable in the circumstances as his laughing assailants returned to the fire.


Overnight Again



Very soon after that, Trevor was told that it was time to make his bed. He was given four substantial wooden stakes and a mallet. It didn’t take long before he realised that the others had been serious about how he was going to spend the night. Under instruction he’d soon driven the stakes into the ground at an angle to form a square that Trevor realised would be just about the right size to stake him and his long limbs out. Following the usual courtesies, Trevor made himself comfortable and surrendered to the stakes. By the time he had returned, his air bed and sleeping bag had been laid out ready for him to lie on and a towel had been rolled ready to support his neck.

“OK Skinny Kid, reach!” Trevor laid himself down and pushed his hands and feet towards the stakes and one Pirate took each limb and bound it carefully but firmly with soft rope. Trevor noticed what they were doing: laying the rounds of rope parallel, about five doubled rounds before tying them off. The result was too tight to slip out of but not painful. Once all his limbs were cuffed, the Pirates stretched their victim a bit and tied him off to the stakes leaving his fingers out of range of the knots. Trevor gripped the ropes lightly and settled down for the night. He felt safe with his new friends but nevertheless he wondered whether he’d still think he’d made the right decision in the morning.

“OK Trev. What’s the safe word?”

“Skinny Kid.”

“Do you want to say it again now?” Trevor shook his head.”

“Good Man.”

Dave and Roy went with Rob, who lay face down on his bedding. “If you two want to live to grow up, just tie me so that I can’t turn over. No funny stuff.”

Dave looked hurt. “Trust me, I’m a Pirate.” He grinned.

“And I’m your lovely little brother.” Rob wasn’t exactly comforted by their grinning assurances but he had little choice but to trust them.

Dave and Roy soon had the glowing gingah secured quite loosely between the stakes that Rob himself had hammered into the ground. Rob could flex his arms and legs to a certain extent but would not be able to reach the knots at all and would find it very difficult to slip the cuffs from his wrists.

While Rob was being accommodated, Stewart had gone over to Koff. “Well done, mate, you OK?” Koff nodded. “Safe word?” Koff’s eyes hardened. He shook his head. “Good man. Let’s get you cleaned off.”

Stewart released Koff from the tree and carried him over to the creek, the tide being too far out at the time. There were times when Koff was glad his friend was stronger than he but he probably wouldn’t have chosen to be simply thrown in. Stewart was, of course, still in just his blue, square-leg swimming costume so he simply jumped in after him in case of emergency. The water was deep enough for the initial throwing in to be fairly safe; Koff would not collide dangerously with the river bed and could stand a bit more than waist deep once he had recovered. Stewart helped Koff to his feet and ducked him a few times, massaging potato out of his tangled mat of hair and wiping it from his chest and his legs. He thought he might ignore his crutch. Koff took the opportunity of a surreptitious pee.

Stewart removed Koff’s gag and asked, “Do you want me to get ‘em down for you?” Koff trusted his friend in spite of everything he’d ever done to him; he’d done things just as bad in return and confirmed that he’d like that. Stewart lowered Koff’s hi-legs for him. Both boys could pretend to themselves that it was getting a bit too dark for Stewart to “see anything” and Koff jigged around trying to disentangle his more delicate parts from the rapidly dissolving potato. He only wished he’d held on for a bit longer before taking that pee.

“OK, thanks. Pull ‘em up again, mate.” Stewart adjusted Koff’s dress for him and carried him back to the tree where he secured him, still dripping, for the night.



TBC
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Post by Gino »

please xtc, never stop telling stories about this island :D :D :D
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Still working hard to complete the fourth one.
It's getting a bit confusing posting one while trying to complete another.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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sorry, I didn't want to rush you, take your time for the next story :D :D :D
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Don't apologise, It will have to take the time it takes.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 6



Early Next Morning



What with sleeping outside, the boys started waking as the sun rose and, being August, sunrise was early enough for Trevor and Rob not to have spent too long spread eagled. Stewart rose first, stretched, scratched his balls, put on his flip flops and headed off for the latrine with a change of swimming trunks in his hands. Upon his return, Dave had also risen and changed. Family solidarity was once more displayed as the two powerfully built brothers now both sported blue nylon briefs and flip flops. The Lennox boys set about applying their sun block and locating their bush hats. At least they didn’t match.

Stewart started cooking breakfast while Dave went to see how the bound boys were. Rob was released first and took his opportunity to change into a pair of yellow mini-briefs and bright red nylon shorts that nearly matched his, by now peeling, sunburn. He decided to put on his gym shoes and go for a run to iron out the kinks caused by his overnight immobility. Once more he neglected to apply the sun block.

Trevor had been awake for a little while by the time Dave wished him a rather too cheery “Good morning”. Having checked that their new friend was happy with his state, Dave moved on to Koff. “What’s the safe word?”

“Get stuffed.”

“Wrong!” and Dave quickly stuffed last night’s gag back where it belonged and tied it behind Koff’s neck. Koff could certainly have resisted but he made no attempt to do so. After having checked the prisoner’s ropes, Dave then sat on Koff’s legs and started tickling his feet. He had difficulty retaining his seat as Koff’s powerful legs attempted to kick him off. “Give in?”

“Uuu-oo.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘No’.” Dave continued tormenting his older mate through all the muffled laughs and eventual grunting noises. “Give up?”

“E’ – o - ,oo - i’ow – uun’!” What he was trying to say was, “Get off, you little . . .” but delicacy prohibits my transcribing the epithet itself.

“Sorry, can’t quite understand you.” Dave continued for about another five minutes as Koff became increasingly desperate for relief and louder and louder in spite of the gag. Much to Koff’s relief, eventually Dave noticed that there was someone else to torment and climbed off the, by now, considerably sweaty and heavily breathing Koff.

Roy was still asleep in spite of the noise, his sleeping bag open to the waist and folded back and his head resting peacefully on his arms. Sitting duck! Dave went to the water supply and drew none too small a jug full. He crept up on the sleeping Roy but why he tried to keep so quiet in the light of Koff’s previous grunting and squealing is a mystery. He took careful aim and started gently pouring the contents of the jug into Roy’s right ear. As Roy came to with a shock, he received most of the rest, rather less gently, into his open mouth leaving very little to adorn his chest. With an outraged howl, he rose to his feet and took off after the giggling and rapidly departing Dave. An eventual wrestling match in the sea seemed to leave honour satisfied and the two friends soon returned to site laughing and attempting to kick one another up the bum.

By the time Dave had released Trevor and he’d had time to deal with his morning needs and to change back into his blue hi-leg swimming costume, which had dried out overnight, Rob had returned from his run, Stewart had rustled up scrambled eggs and Roy had even made a reasonable attempt at toast in the newly re-ignited embers of the previous night’s fire. All the boys except Trevor, who had no experience, would have considered it a disgrace if they’d needed a match to reignite such a dry fire

Once the boys had eaten their eggs on toast and variety packs of cereals straight out of the packet, they noticed someone trying to attract their attention. A quick round of “Bags I not feed him.” left Trevor, as the last to bags, to feed Koff while everyone else drank tea or coffee prior to Stewart’s departure to clean the cooking pan – and the one that once held mashed potato.

Everybody else (except Koff) took a while to check and help with one another’s sun block and take a post breakfast rest on their beach towels, which were now somewhat less than savoury, while they planned the rest of the day. Stewart returned. So let the games begin.


Preparing the Game



By now it was becoming apparent that Trevor fitted seamlessly into the group but, more importantly, that there was a serious danger of Koff’s winning his bet. They had to try to persuade him to use his safe word. Extreme torture was obviously out of the question so that was most of Dave’s suggestions out of the window but nearly everyone thought that it would be good to “involve” their new member. Trevor wasn’t so sure about that bit but, at the first sign of his questioning the decision, he was bundled onto the ground under Stewart while Dave and Roy went over to the stakes to get some ropes.

While the younger boys were collecting the ropes and Rob disappeared to the store room, Stewart pinned Trevor to the ground and explained the rules of the forthcoming game. What it boiled down to was that there would be two targets – guess who. That was about it. Trevor was told that this was to be his official initiation as well as a way of trying to get Koff to surrender. That didn’t sound too enticing to Trevor but he did manage to remain silent when offered the opportunity to use his safe word. Stewart was taking no chances and remained seated on the slender newbie’s back.

Rob returned from the stores in time to supervise the preparation of the targets. Koff could make a good guess as to what was about to happen when he saw the stationery items that Rob was sorting as he returned but, with his view obscured both by Stewart and by the direction in which he was facing, Trevor still had a clear idea only that he probably wasn’t going to enjoy himself too much in the immediate future. While Dave and Roy wrenched Trevor’s arms up his back for Stewart to hold them in place as they started to tie his wrists to his opposite elbows, Rob explained, “Postie leaves these. She brings the mail to the camp-site bundled up in them. Good strong ones aren’t they? Shame to waste ‘em.” Looking at the newly untangled elastic bands that were being displayed on Rob’s fingers for him to see gave Trevor a clearer idea of the manner of his imminently forthcoming suffering. The box of paper clips made it even clearer still.

On his way to collect the weapons and ammunition, Rob had noticed how the two youngest boys were tying Trevor ready to play his role as target so he brought something that he thought might “make him more comfortable” from stores. He handed the white judo belt to Stewart who waited until Dave and Roy had secured each of Trevor’s wrists skilfully to his opposite elbows before sliding it between Trevor’s arms and his back. While Roy and Dave somewhat redundantly held Trevor’s arms, Stewart wrapped the belt twice round each of the victim’s slim biceps individually and adjusted it to draw his arms slightly closer together before knotting it off with a square knot. Trevor’s skinny frame meant that there was plenty of belt left over for Stewart to wrap it twice round his forearms and tie it off twice more.

“Now isn’t that much more cosy?” asked Stewart as he dismounted. Trevor didn’t think he’d dignify the question with an answer. As Trevor wriggled, ineffectively trying to reach any knots with his fingers, Dave had returned to the stakes where Trevor had spent the night and brought the other two ropes over to where he was squirming on the ground. Dave tossed one of them to his big brother while Roy tipped their “guest” over onto his back. The MacGregor brothers then knelt, looked at one another with what Trevor considered to be matching evil grins and, without warning, shoved his feet up towards his bum. This time Trevor didn’t manage to suppress a “Hey!” as his legs were grabbed to stop him straightening them again.

“Struggle now and you’d be surprised what we’ll tie your ankles to,” warned Stewart looking pointedly at the front of Trevor’s somewhat skimpy swim briefs. Trevor blushed but he did hold still. Dave soon tied his ankles together leaving quite a bit of spare rope and Stewart used the other one to tie his legs just below his bum. For just a few moments Trevor couldn’t think why he’d done that until Stewart took the free ends of the ankle rope and forced them between his legs. Dave gave a forceful shove until Trevor’s feet were as close to his bum as they could be and Stewart tied the rope off round the other one in front of Trevor’s thighs.

“Tie his knees?”

“Nah, he’ll do. Let’s see what he looks like.”

Stewart lifted Trevor to his knees and pushed his neck down until he was folded in three. “Yes, he’ll do like that.” confirmed Rob who had been busy on his own account since his return from the stores. He’d taken the wire-cutters that he’d lodged in the waist-band of his shorts and was converting each of the paper clips into two handy metal missiles which he was distributing between four mugs. There already seemed to be no shortage of ammunition.

“Blindfold?”

“Reckon so.” Trevor soon found one of the numerous football scarves that had found their way into stores tied twice around his head.

“Gag?”

“No, let’s hear him yelp!”

“Thanks, boys.”

“Don’t get sarky. Nasty things happen to sarky prisoners.”

Trevor knelt and waited, helpless to avoid his fate. He wasn’t even totally sure that he wanted to even though he knew his initiation, because it was also to be used for torturing Koff, wasn’t designed to be pleasant. He thought he could get quite into the tie-up games. If only he could find a group like the Pirates round his way. Surrey was so boring. Especially Spelthorne.

Now it was Koff’s turn.

Before Roy untied the rope that was securing Koff’s neck to the tree, he’d already checked the cuffs between his wrists, the rope holding his hands against his body and the one confining his elbows. Koff had no reason to struggle if he was to win his bet and his bonds were as secure as when they had initially been applied. By the time Roy had completed the checks, Dave had got the ancient oar again and the older boys had got the ropes from where Rob had been staked out overnight.

Koff was forced to double up so that the oar could be forced between his back and his elbows, not that there was much room but, by the time it had been secured around his body, it removed any chance that Koff would have had of turning over once he’d laid down. Another football scarf was tied over Koff’s face depriving him of sight and he had his ankles tied to his thighs just as Trevor’s had been.

Rob and Stewart each lifted an end of the oar while Dave grabbed the strap round Koff’s ankles and Roy made a token attempt to support his head as they carried him over to where Trevor was waiting with trepidation. Unseen to one another the two parts of the target were then assembled.



TBC
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but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Gino »

I'm always excited when a new part comes out and this time I wasn't disappointed either :D
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Thanks. I can do with the assurances!
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LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 7



Trevor’s Initiation



Koff, who’d been put down on his back, was lifted to his knees and the two victims were forced to kneel alongside one another. The blade of the oar was thus against Trevor’s back only just below where his forearms had been secured. The long rope was used to secure Trevor to the oar and his right arm to Koff’s left one. There was lots of rope left over which Dave just hung round Koff’s neck.

There followed some discussion concerning how to secure the targets so that they couldn’t move and were as exposed as possible. One of the crates was positioned next to Koff on the opposite side from Trevor and the oar was forced down folding the targets in three. They were then allowed to kneel upright again while Stewart started to hammer long stakes into the ground at about forty-five degrees. They intended to tie the oar down to these stakes leaving the targets scrunched up and their backsides as easy targets.

When Koff and Trevor were bent forwards again, Rob thought that something didn’t look quite right. The target wasn’t symmetrical, the crate that was supporting the handle of the oar wasn’t quite right but, looking at his little brother, he had an idea. Roy read the warning signs and took off. Too slow - Rob soon had him rugby tackled to the ground and was busy explaining the consequences of slapping one’s helpless big brother on the sunburn. He called for more rope and that, along with football scarves and gagging material was something the Pirates had in plenty. Dave seemed to show no loyalty to his blonde, curly-haired friend whose gold-clad backside was soon displayed alongside those of Koff and Trevor ready for the game to commence. Rob thought he could do without hearing his treacherous little brother squealing as he was being tortured and gagged him comprehensively.

With the oar drawn down towards the ground and secured to Stewart’s stakes and the long rope having been used to secure Roy’s left arm to Koff’s right and Roy’s torso to the oar, these three were unlikely to be going anywhere fast.

The other three boys discussed the rules, the penalties and the prize. Everyone would get a couple of the powerful lacky bands and a mug of the specially prepared ammunition. The bent metal missiles were to be hooked over the elastic and fired from a fixed position behind the targets. The principal that every shot on target should score a point was quickly decided to be unfair.

“Look at the arse on Koff, you could hardly miss!

“Eennn!” It was hard to tell if the cry was one of outrage or hurt!

“Shut up, Koff.” Dave gave him a mighty wedgie. Koff’s briefs were skimpy enough as it was but his buttocks were now cruelly and almost completely exposed.

“OK, two points for Koff but five for the skinny ones.”

“No, Koff’s the bull’s-eye so he should score more.”

The deep philosophical argument continued for some time until it was decided that, as the bull’s eye, a hit on Koff should score two points but a shot on Trevor or Roy should only count one. Neither common sense nor the opinions of the targets were canvassed.

Grass stalks were drawn and Rob got his watch from his rucksack. Each contestant was to get two minutes, highest score wins. Dave drew the longest grass stalk so he went first. Unlike his usual approach to life, he took his time and aimed carefully. He didn’t get many shots off but he did score the majority of his points from stinging Koff’s exposed flesh. Twenty-four shots ( not including the sneaky double-loaded ones that the others didn’t count) scored thirty-nine points. Dave was quite happy with that.

Trevor, even though he was the only target who wasn’t gagged, managed to keep his reactions to being hit to sharp intakes of breath unlike both the others, especially Roy who howled in a most satisfactory manner as far as his brother was concerned. More distressed noises were occasioned as the unfortunate boy who was hit jerked against the oar thus causing further discomfort to his companions, especially when it was the sturdy Koff.

Rob was next but he didn’t seem to be taking the competition seriously. For some reason he seemed to be happy scoring his points in singles. Trevor had an easy round this time! Rob got a lot of shots off but only two hit Koff and two missed; he scored forty. His brother was starting to wish he’d thought twice before slapping him on the back.

Just Stewart to go. He didn’t want to lose so poor Koff got the worst of it again but, once Stewart had scored enough to beat Rob, he thought that, just out of spirit of generosity, he’d share the rest of his ammunition between the other two targets.

Stewart won; Dave lost. Stewart got to tie Dave up the following day and Dave had to clear up all the spent ammunition and return it to the box; it might come in handy in the future. Dave thought that was fair enough as he’d got away without being tied up the weekend that Trevor and his two mates originally visited the island.

OK. So the result was decided but, in spite of frequent opportunities to do so, Koff had managed not to say his safety word. Things were getting desperate. What else could the Pirates do to get Koff to beg for release?


Just Relaxing



Stewart and Rob released the oar from the stakes thus allowing their erstwhile targets to kneel upright again accompanied by choral groans of relief. It was fortunate for Roy that they were in descending order of height or he might have found his arms strained most unpleasantly. “Shame”, thought Rob as Stewart and he started untying Trevor while ostentatiously ignoring Roy’s constant gag-talk as he demanded to be released too. It’s surprising how long they took just to release Trevor, take a leisurely drink and congratulate him on becoming a fully-fledged Pirate. Koff knew better than to expect release; he knew that the others would be trying to think of something else unpleasant to do to him for the rest of the day to stop him winning his bet.

Eventually the older boys started untying Roy but they only untied him enough to enable him to finish the job by himself. That took a long time and, throughout his manoeuvrings, Koff was involuntarily shaken and jerked around until Roy managed to unthread himself from the oar. By now Koff was getting heartily sick of hearing the question, “What’s the safe word?”

It dawned on Trevor that he didn’t know Koff’s safe word and he thought that he probably should do so in case he had to use it. “Carpet Head,” said Rob. Trevor grinned. Looking at the curly, flat-topped mat of hair that Koff kept cut quite short (but only because his parents insisted that he did), Trevor could understand that. The Pirates didn’t seem to specialise in complimentary safe-words and Trevor wondered to himself what the others’ might be.

Once he was the only prisoner left tied to the oar, Koff had a dilemma: he could remain kneeling uncomfortably, trying not to fall sideways in which case he would be propped up uncomfortably by the oar; or he could fall onto his back or his face and be unable to turn over from there. He didn’t have long to consider his options when Rob struck.

Rob forced Koff forwards again and sat on his back. He went into leader mode. His minions soon had the aching boy bent over again and the oar fastened to the stakes once more. There was still some time until lunch was due and a swim was suggested. Trevor offered to look after Koff while the others went to the beach.

His offer was accepted and Rob suggested that, as he was now a proper Pirate, he could, “put those shorts on if you want to now.”

“Nah. Too hot for all that clothing. You’ll just have to put up with me like this.”

Four boys took their towels and headed for the beach while Trevor topped up his sun-block. He couldn’t help feeling some sympathy for Koff even though he was aware that he couldn’t release him. “Need some of this?” he asked rather stupidly as Koff was still blindfolded. “Oh, sorry, sun-block.” All the while Koff had been in the shelter of the trees, there had been no need for it but now, with his back offered up to the sky, he had already started reddening. Koff nodded and Trevor started slathering.

“Need a drink, mate?” Again, Koff nodded and muffled into his gag. Trevor went into stores and collected two cans of coke. Trevor untied the cloth in Koff’s mouth and Koff spat the knot from behind his teeth. Now Trevor had a problem: pouring the cola into Koff’s mouth wasn’t exactly possible all the while he was forced into the zig-zag posture and there was no way Trevor was going to let him kneel upright. Then he had an idea: he knew that elder stalks were hollow and weren‘t poisonous so he cut a herbal straw using Rob’s discarded wire cutters, inserted it into the can and held it up to Koff’s mouth in between taking mouthfuls himself and chatting idly with his new and incongruously bound and blindfolded friend.

Never say die: once he had finished his coke, Koff made another attempt to get Trevor to release him from the oar on the grounds that he only had to remain bound to win his bet and that he shouldn’t be tortured to make him give in. Trevor admitted that he had a good point and sneakily replaced the soggy gag in the unfortunate boy’s mouth. That wasn’t quite the outcome that Koff had in mind as Trevor gave him a hefty slap on the backside to test the gag, but at least Trevor did release him from the wedgie that had tormented him while he was being shot at. Koff’s squawk was quite gratifying but he did say, “Ann’ ooo,” after his briefs had been extracted from his arse-crack and snapped (fairly weakly) back into position.

Trevor just settled on his towel and soaked up some rays until the other boys returned.



TBC
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LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 8



Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon



The customary laughter, yelps and sounds of towels being snapped announced the return of the bathers.

“Woaa! Nice one!”

“Aahh!”

“Oops, sorry mate.”

“What we got for lunch?”

“Crisps, penguins, coke”

“Aaa, not health-food again?”

“Ok then, YOU eat the apples.”

Towels were soon hung up to dry and lunch rapidly consumed. Needless to say, Koff was ostentatiously ignored. Following lunch, plans obviously had to be made for “entertaining” him until dinner time when Pirates’ Honour would demand his release unless he could be persuaded to beg for release before then. He would be insufferable if he won. He’d get to keep each of them prisoner for two days of his choosing, he’d probably use them as foot-stools, he’d almost certainly tie them together in embarrassing or uncomfortable postures and anyone who wasn’t tied up would have to wait on him hand and foot. No, short of murder, all steps must be taken to make sure he lost.

Rob pointed out the advantage to Trevor of not being local, “It’s OK for you. You get to go home before he can tie you up, jammy bugger.” Trevor, smiling, asked whether Rob was questioning his honour. “Would I?” answered Rob feigning innocence. Trevor had obviously come home.

“Hey boys, if my folks let me, can I stay a couple more days?”

“You said you’ve got to phone them tomorrow. Why not ask?”

The decision was made and discussion returned to the more immediate challenge.

“We can’t leave him like that for much longer.”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Dave, he’s going to be free in a few hours whether he wins his bet or not. Don’t you think you’d better stop digging?”

“Or learn to run?” That just wasn’t Dave’s way.

“We could stake him out.”

“Not in this sun.”

“We could always use the pulley again.”

All things considered, the Pirates decided that they should, indeed, use the pulley. At that time of day it was in the shade and, once he was strung up there, they would have time to think how else they could torment him.

Koff was grateful for being allowed to get upright again and for having the oar removed to allow him to move his arms at least minimally. Most of his bonds had been removed by the time he was bunny-hopped over to the tree leaving him blindfolded and gagged with his ankles still strapped together and the wrist-cuffs still pulled against his lower back. At least he could flex his arms a little now.

Stewart removed the rope holding Koff’s wrists towards his back and there was some discussion as to where to go from there. Once more, Dave’s suggestion was rejected. It was decided that leaving him bent over with his arms hauled high for four hours would be excessive. They did need to force him to give up but he was a friend.

“OK mate, hands in front.” instructed Rob and they left Koff to fall to the ground and struggle until his hands were in front of him. He knew that doing it himself would be better than being “helped” and much better than having them change their minds in favour of Dave’s suggestion. With Koff being of a sturdy build, it was a good job there was a fair length of rope between his wrists. Even so, he didn’t find slipping the cuffs over his bum and then sliding his feet through them particularly easy. The comments made by his “friends” didn’t seem to be calculated to help but, as he scrabbled around on the ground, he did manage inadvertently to dislodge the football scarf from around his eyes.

The Pirates allowed their prisoner about five minutes to exercise his arms before Stewart pulled the hook down and straightened the ropes in the block. Koff surrendered his wrists without resistance or objection and Roy, even though he was one of the smallest boys, used the mechanical advantage of the block and tackle to lift Koff to his feet and eventually off them. THEN he started objecting. Rob pushed the crate under his feet so that he could stand again while Roy tied off the rope. Koff sagged slightly as the knot settled and he readied himself for a few tedious hours before he would triumph over his mates. He could use the time to plan his revenge.

Everyone else retired to their sun-block encrusted towels to laze out the most sweltering part of the day. In fairness, they did check up on Koff quite often; it would have been a shame not to give him sufficient opportunities to give up. The next two hours were uneventful, Rob dozed, the others played cards and chatted and Koff gradually developed a dislike of standing with his hands over his head. Eventually, the card players decided to go for a dip and a game of Frisbee on the beach leaving Rob to guard Koff.

By the time the bathers returned and started topping up their sun-block, Koff was aching quite badly but he guessed that he had not much more than an hour to hold out. Unfortunately, the others knew that too and they were getting desperate. Desperate times require desperate measures and the lacky bands and ammunition were produced once more. At least the knot holding Koff’s wrists high had settled even more and the rope had stretched about as far as it was going to allowing Koff a stable footing and even the ability to move a little.

“We going to blindfold him again?”

“No. It’s more fun to watch him trying to move out of the way.”

The five tormentors surrounded their prey and raised their weapons. Koff spent the next ten minutes hopping around trying to avoid being hit in the bollocks, not with total success. The only satisfaction he got was when the metal missiles that missed him occasionally went on and hit one of his assailants. He had another problem to address as well: the Imodium was wearing off. He thought he could hold out a little longer but the stomach-rumblings and farting were getting louder, less occasional and more worrying as he tried to dodge the flying metal.

“He’s gross.”

“Yeah.”


Desperate Measures



Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself and Rob suddenly realised that they only had about half an hour before they had to release Koff unless he begged for release. Perhaps they should use some of Dave’s less extreme suggestions. No, one last throw of the dice.

Koff had the crate pushed out from under him leaving him hanging by the wrists and with considerably less scope for escaping the paper clips. Still he wouldn’t give up and, after about five minutes, Stewart replaced the crate while Dave went for his secret weapon. He hoped that fear would achieve what other forms of “persuasion” had not.

“You boys seen any ants this weekend?”

“Lots.”

“Any wasps?”

“One or two.”

“OK Koff, last chance.” Dave held the pot of strawberry jam in front of Koff’s face.

The rapid shaking of his head and the outraged but muffled squeal could have been defiance on Koff’s part or it could have been the surrender. Dave was rather hoping it wasn’t surrender as he dug his fingers into the jar and handed it to Roy. He’d started smearing the bright red, sugary bait over Koff’s chest and abdomen before Rob gave him a chance to say the safety word. Having got that far, Koff was going to tough it out even if he was going to do so in full cry and at top volume. Roy took some jam and added it to Koff’s thighs before handing the jar to Stewart. Shortly after Stewart had scraped the remainder of the condiment from the jar, Koff even had it plastered over his forehead and smeared into his armpits.

The Pirates retired to appraise their work and to await the arrival of any passing hymenoptera that might have a sweet tongue. Koff jerked around like someone who was suffering electric shocks. His struggling and snorting got more and more extreme over the next ten minutes in spite of the fact that all the wasps seemed to have gone away on holiday somewhere else. At least the others had the satisfaction of seeing ants crawling up Koff’s legs but were disappointed to see that there were no red ones.

Rob looked at his watch. Would Koff realise that his time was up? He decided to leave it just a few more minutes. Koff noticed Rob looking at his watch and said something along the lines of. “I say, you fellows, I do believe that my time is up and that I have just won my bet.” It’s just that, being gagged, it sounded more like, “Come on, you wankers, untie me. NOW!”

They enjoyed his fury for a couple of minutes more before Rob admitted that it was time to release him, and his laughing friends gave him a round of applause and slung just a few handfuls of dry earth at the sticky substance that coated his body.

“OK. You win. Hold still.” Roy went to release the rope from the block and tackle and Rob removed Koff’s gag. While he was doing so, Koff got a clear look at his watch.


Pastime with Good Company



“You bastards, you should have untied me ten minutes ago.”

“Shut up Koff, or you can struggle by yourself until you work the ropes off.”

Koff calmed down. He knew he’d won and he could wait until tomorrow to collect his winnings.

Eventually the rope cuffs were off and Dave had unbuckled the strap from round Koff’s ankles and even massaged them a bit for him. Once he’d stretched and twisted his body comprehensively, Koff asked if someone would get his shorts and a pair of underpants from his bag so that he wouldn’t smear dirt-encrusted jam all over his kit. Trevor got them for him and Koff went off to the beach to wash not only the jam and dirt off his body but also the traces of potato still lodged in his previously inaccessible crevices.

Upon his return, dinner was under way and the boys agreed that, for very good reasons, there would be no payment of the forfeits until after lunch tomorrow. Dinner was eaten, Trevor did the washing up (such as it was done) and all six boys went for a barefoot kick-around on the beach until everyone decided that it was time to go back to the emplacement, provoke the fire into life again, and just chew the fat until it was time to retire.


TBC
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
Gino
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Post by Gino »

Very nice story, I really liked it. at the end I would have wished for a little tickle torture hihi :D ;)
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Xtc
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Post by Xtc »

Thank you. You never know what might happen yet!
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
Gino
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Post by Gino »

uuuuuuh, I guess... :D :D :D
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Post by Xtc »

Not much tying in the next episode but, without it, there would have been a serious gap in the narrative.

Here goes:
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Xtc »

LONGHOLME ISLAND


RETURN TO LONGHOLME ISLAND
Part 9



Trevor’s Farewell



As before, everyone slept outside and everyone except Roy woke shortly after the very early daybreak. It was the day when Trevor had to go to the mainland and ring his parents (Remember: no mobile phones in those days.) to tell them when they could expect him home. He wasn’t ready to leave his new friends yet and, as they made breakfast, the boys made plans for him to stay. Trevor didn’t have very high hopes of being allowed to stay because he knew his parents were already concerned about his going away with youngsters they hadn’t met and that they’d be thinking he’d be an imposition on their parents. His mother, especially, was like that.

He packed dejectedly.

Stewart went to the landing stage and rigged the old dinghy and Rob searched the stores to see what he needed to raid while he was on the mainland. Having your parents running a large tourist camp site had advantages as far as the Pirates were concerned. They could raid the camp shop and the catering supplies to stock their headquarters. It was also useful being able to plunder the odd ice-cream while they were passing. Rob hoped that Stewart’s parents would be on duty; his mum was always a push-over. He was sure that he could get her to talk to Trevor’s mum and reassure her that it would be OK for him to stay over for a few more days. When the time to leave had come, they thought they had a water-tight plan.

The boys headed for the old wooden dinghy with Trevor’s rucksack and several loot bags. Stewart was already there dressed in only his swim briefs (he could see no reason to dress uncomfortably when most males on the camp site would be dressed no more extensively) and Trevor threw his rucksack to him. He still wasn’t really used to the dinghy and boarded it rather tentatively followed by Rob, who had also changed into his formerly white swimming costume. Trevor looked quite incongruous in his travelling clothes.

“Ready, Roy?” came Koff’s voice.

“Bloody right.”

“Hey, what the . . .?” Dave found himself locked in a stranglehold by Koff while Roy pulled his black football shorts down and off over his feet leaving him in only his paisley nylon y-fronts.

“Nice knickers, Dave.”

“You weren’t supposed to tie us up until after lunch.”

“It’s nothing to do with the bet. I just thought I’d like a word with you.” Now Dave knew he was screwed.

“Yes, and I wanted one too.” Roy explained that he didn’t really enjoy being woken up by having water poured into his ear, his mouth, and over his chest and sleeping bag and that “my associate here” wasn’t too impressed about being given that monster wedgie while he was helpless. The fact that no one had made an attempt to relieve Koff of his distress didn’t seem to make much difference to the justice of the case; it was simply obvious that Dave had to suffer.

“Stewart, help me! . . . Brother!” In spite of his desperate appeal to family loyalty, Dave’s big brother didn’t seem to be too interested in helping but he did wave him goodbye as Koff dragged him back to the cannon emplacement and Roy went to prepare the block and tackle.

Trevor settled into the dinghy as Stewart helmed it back to the mainland with Rob acting as crew. They had a good wind and a high tide and the voyage was soon over. Trevor looked rather wistfully back at the island throughout. For a landlubber he thought that he could get used to the Pirate life and he really wasn’t looking forward to the long, slow train journey back to Surrey.


A Raid on the Landlubbers



Stewart and Rob drove the ancient boat aground rather than trying to negotiate a jetty full of grockles* and Rob and he jumped out and dragged the vessel far enough onshore to make sure that the ebbing tide could not re-float it.

“OK, Surrey Boy, I’ll take you ashore. We don’t want you getting your nice city clothes wet, do we?” Rob shouldered Trevor’s bag while Stewart offered his back for a piggy-back ride across the shallows to the shore. As Trevor stood up in the grounded - but still not exactly stable – dinghy, he was far from convinced that he wouldn’t end up in the water but it was either accept Stewart’s offer, strip to his underpants and wade or travel home in wet clothes.

“Home, James!”

“Yes, Master. Anything you say, Master.”

Trevor was conveyed safely (and in the dry) to shore by the dark-haired muscle maniac until he could stand on paved ground. Rob threw his pack to him and the three friends headed for the camp site office.

Score! Stewart’s mum was doing the paperwork while his dad was manning the shop.

“Mu–u-um?”

“What is it now?”

“Oh, nothing. It’s just . . . .” Rob went to the shop while Stewart went to work on his mother. He asked about getting some supplies for the next few days. The boys’ parents were used to this and, as long as they knew what was being taken, it was alright by them because they’d only have to feed their sons in any case if they were hanging around the site. Rob helped himself and then went to the kitchen and took some catering sized tins of bolognaise sauce, curry, mince and various other things. Yes, Dave’s and Stewart’s parents might well have been pushovers but they and the MacGregors knew from past experience that, even if some of their games were somewhat robust, they could trust the boys completely.

By the time Stewart had given his mother careful instructions and both she and Trevor had been on the phone to Trevor's mother, the deal was done. She’d managed to say that he was no trouble at all without having said that, until now, she hadn’t even seen him since he arrived. Neither did she accept the offer to send money towards feeding him or mention that, as far as laundry or sufficient clothing was concerned, the boys didn’t seem to be wearing many clothes.

Stewart hugged his mother as Rob returned with two large bags of loot. The three boys left via the shop. “Can we take an ice-cream dad?”

“Are you going straight back?”

“Yes, why?”

“Put some in one of those cool boxes along with a couple of cool packs. I expect Kevin and your brothers could do with one too.”

Thanks, Dad.”

“Thanks, Mr. L.”

“OK Trev, your job.”

Trevor shouldered his back-pack again and stuffed a couple of cool packs and more than enough iced lollies to go round into the cool box that Mr. Lennox was indicating.

“Taking these too, Dad”

“How many? OK. Got that.”

Stewart would not have been doing his job properly if he hadn’t grabbed the packets of non-melting sweets to add to his loot bag on the way out.

“Bye!”

“Take care!”

The three boys ran, as well as they could with their burdens, to the dinghy. They threw the supplies and Trevor’s rucksack into the vessel and proceeded to push the, now grounded, craft back into the water. Trevor didn’t seem to be too concerned about getting his jeans and footwear wet any more as he put his back into the job.

Once he’d climbed aboard and taken his place in the stern, as Stewart had suggested, Trevor was instructed in steering skills and told not to head straight for the island because they’d need to tack into the wind. By the time Rob had translated that into English, the voyage took a lot longer than the previous one and it was certainly more eventful. It was also a much happier one for Trevor.


*“grockles” = abusive West Country term for tourists/visitors. Believed to be the shortened form of “damned grockles”.




TBC
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
Gino
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Post by Gino »

will be even more exciting in the next part, right? :D :D :D
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