LOOKING AFTER LUKE
Breakfast Is Served
After changing his underwear Scott put a frozen pizza in the microwave and got himself a coke from the fridge. He was in no hurry to rescue his little brother. While he was waiting he cleaned two of the dog’s bowls (His parents had taken Flynn with them.) and filled a jug with water. He took various things to the shed in shifts: first of all the, now hot and fragrant, pizza and a knife which he set down on the bench where Luke could smell the tantalising aromas. The poor kid had had no breakfast and, other than what entered his mouth during his early morning ducking, nothing to drink since last night.
The next load consisted of the water jug, dog bowls and a loo roll.
Scott had planned carefully; he’d even prepared the “Porta Potti” that the family used on camping trips and placed it at end of the workbench farthest from the door.
Having brought the pizza into the shed, Scott took a kitchen stool which he had pre-positioned, sat on it and started to eat his lunch with a relish that he attempted to convey to his ravenous little brother. The sound of a coke can being opened did nothing to ameliorate Luke’s situation.
By now not only was he starving and parched but even a sound associated with liquid made him try to scrunch up his body about his midriff in an attempt to avoid wetting himself. That’s probably why Scott deliberately poured the drink into a glass!
“Oh sorry, I forgot all about you there. I’ll tell you what, do you need the loo?”
“Ennngh”, confirmed Luke nodding frantically. He didn’t know about the arrangements his brother had so thoughtfully made for him.
Scott explained the rules. “I’ll release you from the vice and take you to the Porta Potti which I’ve set up next to the bench.” Luke’s head jerked in an alarmed way. He thought he’d get to use a “proper toilet” in some privacy. “Then I’ll untie your wrists and give you a bog-roll. Any attempt to free your ankles or remove your hood, then no breakfast, no drinkies and hog-tied for hours.” Luke had to weigh up this “offer” carefully; the hog-tie was enticing but, on balance, he needed to relieve himself immediately and the need to eat and drink was also looming large in his necessities. “Understand, Turkey?”
Even having been addressed as Turkey, Luke knew when he was beaten and nodded.
Good as his word, Scott released Luke’s feet from the vice and bunny-hopped him over to the plastic monstrosity, took some time untying his arms, during which Luke’s fidgeting became more and more desperate, and told him to drop his Speedos. Luke did so as quickly as possible. Scott gave him the toilet roll, turned him round and parked him on the camping loo.
Even Scott wasn’t as cruel as his brother would have his friends believe and he left Luke to do his business in privacy for a few minutes. It was almost like a trip back to infancy for Luke when, without thinking, he called out, “I’ve finished.” at the end of proceedings, not that Scott could understand him. It didn’t even strike either of the brothers as unusual until much later.
Scott re-entered the shed and found his brother standing with the horrible little Speedos back in place and offering his wrists to be tied in front of him.
“In your dreams, Turkey, turn round.” Scott couldn’t see the smirk that should have been on Luke’s face as a result, mainly because his brother was hooded but also smirking with your mouth filled by an entire citrus fruit is very awkward. Luke turned round with a series of small bunny-hops and surrendered his wrists.
Scott used a short rope to draw Luke’s elbows very close together behind him, there was no point doing anything elaborate because he would need either releasing or re-tying very soon. Luke felt the PE bag being untied and removed from over his head and the sock pulled from round his eyes.
“It’s breakfast time; I’ve saved you some pizza.” said Scott pointing to the dog bowl on the floor. He had cut up two sectors into bite-size chunks, piled them in the bowl and written “Turkey’s Doggy Bowl” on the side in marker pen. It was no use Luke looking at his brother like that; looks don’t actually kill. “OK, on your knees and I’ll pull your gag out.” offered Scott as he helped his prisoner to kneel down.
Luke looked up and Scott explained more rules. Once I’ve removed your gag, you will only eat and drink. Any speaking and this is going in and you’ll get nothing else until this evening. Got it?” Luke nodded especially when he saw what Scott meant by “this”, the stocking with a lemon in it that was much larger than the little orange that he had only just had removed and he also had a shrewd idea why the item was so soggy.
Luke went straight to the bowl of water and tried to suck it up but had difficulty not getting it up his nose as well. He badly needed a better drink than he was managing to get and decided that the only way he was going to get it was by begging. He looked up at Scott and asked, “Please may I have a straw?”
“You’ll need to be MUCH more polite than that. Please may I have a straw, what?
“Please may I have a straw, Sir?”
Not good enough. One more try, then it’s. . . “ said Scott picking up the lemon gag.
Luke breathed in deeply. “Please may I have a straw, Master?”
Scott pushed his right foot towards Luke. The implication was clear. Luke was so desperate for water that he bowed forwards, kissed Scott’s foot and waited for permission to look up. He was used to this routine as a punishment for having wound his brother up many times in the past.
Scott quickly replaced the bag over Luke’s head, tied it in place and went into the kitchen in search of the drinking straws. Upon his return he removed the hood, showed Luke the two straws he had brought back and asked, “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Good boy, Turkey.” Scott placed the straws in Luke’s mouth and patted him on the head. Although Luke enjoyed being tied up, he often wished he was the older brother just occasionally to revenge himself for the humiliations that Scott usually piled up on him as well.
When it looked as though Luke had finished, Scott removed the straws and Luke struggled to eat his pizza, eventually succeeding in finishing all that he didn’t manage to dislodge onto the floor.
Worktime For Luke
Scott then explained that their mum had told him to ensure that ALL Luke’s homework was to be completed. “That’s OK.” thought Luke, “That won’t take long.” Little did he know . . .
Scott lifted Luke onto the kitchen stool and tied his roped ankles to one of the legs above the cross-bar. He then used the chain: padlocked it tightly around the smaller boy’s waist, fed it down between his legs, wrapped it a couple of times round the same leg of the stool that Luke’s feet were tied to, fed it to the opposite leg and wound it round a few times before padlocking it to the back of the waist chain. That was probably not the most secure of chainings but it was impressive enough to make Luke feel like not falling off the stool or tipping it over. Scott then released his arms so that he could work.
Scott was intelligent and more than two years older than his brother. There was no way Luke was going to fool Scott over the homework. The first subject was Maths. After about fifteen minutes Luke had scribbled a diagram in biro in his book and added a few co-ordinates. He showed it to Scott and said that he supposed it was time for him to be tied up again. Scott was having none of it. He had decided that, if he had to be there, Luke was going to suffer in all ways possible. That included spending hours on his homework. He crossed out the “work” in his brother’s book saying that he’d get their mother to sign it off as her responsibility. He got a piece of graph paper and some felt tip pens and told Luke to do it again and GET IT RIGHT! With the last advice, Luke received the worst nipple cripples he had ever suffered.
After half an hour a very neat map of an imaginary island had been folded once and sellotaped neatly into Luke’s book; another 15 minutes resulted in a neat legend with the correct co-ordinates added.
”Good boy, well done, Turkey.” said Scott as if addressing a puppy and ruffling his brother’s hair, “If you’d got it right the first time, you would have been allowed some exercise but now you’ll have to take your break at your desk.” So saying Scott tied his brother’s arms behind his back again and forced the orange gag back into place.
Whenever Luke was bound, he felt calm because, having no responsibility for his own actions; he couldn’t get into trouble. Even the discomfort was usually worth tolerating; the humiliation however . . . He was looking forward to joining the Sea Scouts’ TUGs club but they wouldn’t take him ‘til next year. Vengeance would be Luke’s!
The next subject was English and Scott suggested that, if Luke didn’t make a good job of it, he’d put a collar and lead on him and “take him walkies” up and down the road where everyone would see him. Luke knew that, if that happened and somebody reported it to their mother, her attitude would be, “Oh, well as long as they’re not getting into trouble.” So no hope there then.
Scott got Luke’s English book and put it on the bench. Just before undoing his arms, Scott took Luke’s nipples in hand and reminded him what would happen if he made any attempt to remove his gag. After about 30 minutes Luke called his brother, as best he could, to see the result. Scott was sunbathing just outside the shed so he got up from his towel to inspect Luke’s effort. For Luke it was quite good but Scott said that it would do for a first draft and made him type it into his laptop to get the spelling checked. Luke was beginning to wonder when he would get the promised tie-ups; he didn’t count being tied to his stool.
The next call saw Scott getting up again and announcing that the next stage was for Luke to make a second draft in his book with the spelling corrected and the punctuation, that he had marked, put right. Luke considered giving up the will to live. It was only the thought of being made to go “walkies” that kept him going.
With the second draft completed, surely, Luke thought, there would be no more of this torture. Scott tied his brother’s elbows again and inspected the work. His statement that it would do as a second draft made Luke’s heart fall but at least it looked as if he might be tied up for a while.
“You’ve been a good boy, Turkey. Time for exercise.” Scott unchained his brother and untied his ankles leaving him gagged and with his arms drawn tightly behind him. He was ordered out of the shed and told to start running laps round the clothes posts with the alternative being “walkies”. After an unsteady walk from the shed, Luke gradually loosened up and did what he was told.
After about 15 minutes Scott called him in. “Are you’re going to tie me up properly now?” Well, that's what Luke tried to say but for some reason his brother didn't seem to understand him.
“Right Turkey, shut up; you’ve got work to do. On your stool.” Luke didn’t want to hear that and he needed Scott’s help to mount the stool. This time Scott allowed his brother to sit straight on the stool. He padlocked the chain round his left ankle and wrapped it a couple of times round one of the legs of the stool above the cross bar. Following a few turns round an adjacent leg, Scott then padlocked his right ankle into the chain. On the pretence of “making sure you don’t accidentally slip off” Scott tied a rope tightly round his brother’s waist, passed the free ends between his legs and under his bum and tied them off to a cross bar at the back of the stool.
With the promise that, if Luke wasn’t co-operative, the rope could be tightened, Scott pulled the gag out and offered him water. Luke drank and even managed to say, “Thank you, Master.” without prompting.
Luke was given the choice of having the gag replaced or promising to be quiet. After consideration, he chose to be quiet because he’d already been gagged for several hours and needed to rest his aching jaws. “Just to help you get it right,” said Scott, “If I have to gag you before you finish your English, you’ll have a couple of clothes pegs on your tits the next time you’re tied up. Let me demonstrate.” Saying which Scott helpfully demonstrated the pain that his brother would experience if he got it wrong.
“You can take them off once I’ve untied your arms. Then get your essay finished. Remember: spelling, punctuation, grammar. What do you say?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good boy”. Scott then ruffled “Turkey’s” hair and released his arms. Luke wasted no time removing the pegs from his nipples and plucked up the courage to ask how he could improve the work.
“Better writing and no mistakes!”
Luke hated being made to re-do his work, it was wasting good “proper” tie-up time. He was determined to make this the final draft. (In fact, Luke completed that work so well that his teacher wrote a complimentary note to his parents. It was the first time that had happened! The maths was also complimented and displayed in class.)
“I’ve finished.” called Luke, rather more distinctly than before. “Please don’t make me do it again, Master. Tie me up instead, please.”
Scott was starting to catch on.
“Hang on, you like being tied up, don’t you?” Luke hung his head and blushed uncontrollably. Scott was formulating a mutually beneficial plan.
“Hands behind your back.” Luke grinned. Scott tied his wrists in a firm cross-lashing and attached them to the rope around his waist. A further rope clamping his arms to his torso made Luke start to believe that he was getting “value for money” at last. A quick look at his inadequate clothing would have confirmed Scott’s previous observation.
It was lunchtime and Scott continued securing his prisoner prior to going into the kitchen. A football scarf tied tightly round his eyes effectively blindfolded him and a vicious squeeze to his cheeks forced his mouth open enabling Scott to replace the orange-gag and secure it firmly behind his teeth. This was rapidly approaching what Luke considered to be a “real tie-up”.
TBC