Dave mostly liked baseball and riding his bike. Steve was a year and a half older, two years ahead at school. He was more interested in books, movies, and TV. As next door neighbors they would occasionally play together. They generally got along better than kids of such disparate ages and before long became good pals. At first they played with toy trucks and explored the nearby woods.
Their games together gradually became less about playing with toys and more about playacting, making up scenarios and acting them out. They were outlaws, explorers, cowboys, big game hunters, astronauts, anyone who might be expected to have adventures.
As time went on, more of the games involved at least one party being eaten. There were cannibals of course, but bears, tigers and other beasts could eat you as well. From the world of fantasy were giants and ogres, all of whom loved to eat little boys.
Troll dolls were a fad and both boys had sisters who owned a couple of the eight inch tall versions. Dave brought Lizzy’s red-haired troll doll out to the back porch one day and moved it up and down Steve’s arms making “nom nom nom” eating noises.
“Trolls like to eat arms,” he announced.
Steve got the giggles as the plastic beast continued eating him and he started squirming.
“Ow ow!” he cried. “Sharp teeth!”
“Really?” Dave asked, pulling back. “Sorry, just trying to —”
“No, not really!” Steve said, exasperated at his younger chum for breaking character. “But being eaten up probably hurts. I have to try to get away.”
“Oh ho!” Dave replied. “Then the trolls have given you a bite with a venom that makes you hold still. How bout that?”
The troll started in on Steve’s bare arms again. “Nom nom nom.”
As Steve continued giggling, Dave decided to slow down a little. He gently ran a finger up his pal’s forearm.
“Troll tongue,” Dave explained. “He’s licking you.”
Steve closed his eyes as Dave’ fingers gently stroked his arms, the actual troll doll mostly forgotten in the other hand. Steve shivered slightly in the summer heat. After that first day the trolls didn’t make another appearance for a while, but they had made an impression.
The boys continued inventing new ways to eat each other. Meanwhile, tie up games began to appear among some of the neighbor kids.
Most of the other boys wanted to tie up girls and tease them. Dave found he preferred being the one bound, but enjoyed binding others too and didn’t care a whit if they were male or female. Tying each other up was a fad that eventually faded for the other kids, but Dave and Steve were intrigued.
They began collecting lengths of twine and rope to use in their private games. It was hard to imagine bears and tigers using rope to bind their victims, but being captured by cannibals created plenty of reasons to tie each other up. Bondage was soon a major ingredient in all cannibal recipes.
A popular game had the prisoner tied to a tree. Branches and twigs were piled at his feet and he would be finger-roasted. The bondage was rather lame in the early days. Often just a rope wrapped round the torso, upper arms, and tree. Captives were more compliant in those days.
The meat was then brought out to the grass for eating, which involved more touching, grabbing, tickling, wrestling, rolling around giggling, etc. Often the captive would end up taking the cannibal prisoner and the game would reset and start again.
As the stories became more involved, the binding also became better and both boys soon discovered how much fun that could be. The cooking was done with slow strokes, ostensibly representing the heat. Various sauces and spices were added requiring more touching and stroking. The actual eating was conducted with hands and fingers accompanied by chomping noises.
Since both boys wanted to be touched as much as possible they began wearing shorts exclusively. Short sleeve button down shirts became popular because they could be unbuttoned for eating chests and tummies.
When the weather turned bad the games moved to Dave’s basement. There was a support post (The Stake), a concrete laundry tub (The Stewpot), and a wooden chair (The Chair). Their rope collection, which started meagerly with a few worn jump ropes and some twine, continued to grow and was much prized. Each boy had his own and they were constantly on the lookout for anything useful.
The fun was just beginning.
Dave & Steve's Adventures (complete) m/m
Dave & Steve's Adventures (complete) m/m
Last edited by MaxRoper 5 years ago, edited 5 times in total.
-
fratboydanny
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 361
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: United States
This is really terrific [mention]MaxRoper[/mention]! It brings me back to games with my cousin Landon in which we were jungle explorers captured but natives. I look forward to reading more about Dave and Steve.
Cannibals... Think I'll like this one 
Very good start. Connections between eating and sexuality are fascinating, so I'm very curious about this one.
Very good start. Connections between eating and sexuality are fascinating, so I'm very curious about this one.don't run ! I'm friendly ...
Thanks for the comments, [mention]fratboydanny[/mention] and [mention]LK3869[/mention]. This is a sort of prequel to a story I had on the old site. It's mostly true with the usual amount of artistic garnish here and there. It was a long time ago.
I have several more chapters that require a little final buffing.
I have several more chapters that require a little final buffing.
[I've done this part in present tense. Please let me know if you like it that way, or find it distracting.]
A hot summer day in the suburbs. School’s out. Two boys are sitting on a back porch.
“Checkers?” asks the older.
“Yeah, I suppose. But if we both try to lose again it’ll take forever.”
“Okay, how about Chutes & Ladders? That one’s completely up to the dice.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The board is brought out and set up. It’s a stupid game but doesn’t take long to play and it’s hard to cheat. The excitement they both feel is wholly out of proportion to the insipid game. It’s a close match with Steve slightly ahead until he catches the final chute, handing the victory to Dave.
They had tried it the other way round with the winner becoming the captive since that’s what they both wanted, but it wasn’t the same. There’s an exquisite tightness in the chest that comes from seeing the other fellow pull ahead as you fall hopelessly behind. The loser is the one who should be punished, even if the punishment is desired.
“How do you want me?” asks the young blonde boy, not trying to hide his excitement.
“Stand with your back against the stake and cross your wrists behind it,” Dave replies sternly, getting into his role.
The older boy does as he’s told and stands complacently against the support post as his wrists and arms are bound with old soft clothesline.
“The cannibals captured you,” explains his friend. “They’re keeping you for the big feast.”
Most of their games involve cannibals. Sometimes there are still pirates or outlaws, but they haven’t found a reason for pirates and outlaws to fondle the captives. For that reason cannibals predominate.
Cannibal games require a great deal of touching. First, the meat must be examined, leanness tested and discussed, and which parts might be the tastiest determined. The cooking involves the application of various sauces and spices, all administered manually of course. Flames and heat stroke at the bare flesh. Finally the actual eating requires pinching, grabbing, stroking, and of course tickling. Both boys relish all that. The games differ in the manner in which the meat is prepared which allows for a variety of positions, however they all include bondage and touching.
Kneeling at his captive’s feet, the cannibal chef begins tying his prisoner’s legs. This is one of his favorite parts. Although both boys prefer being tied up, Dave loves to look at bare legs. Girls or boys, doesn’t matter. The only thing better than looking at legs is touching them and binding them. Or having his own legs bound and touched.
He takes his time, using one rope at the ankles and another above the knees, making every possible excuse to touch flesh. He feels himself begin to grow in his shorts and can’t help noticing a similar reaction in his captive.
Once he’s satisfied with his knots, he gathers up the remaining ropes and steps back to admire his handiwork.
“What are you going to do with me?” asks the frightened captive.
“You are to be dinner,” replies his captor.
“You’re going to eat me?”
“Not right away,” replies the young cannibal. “First you must be roasted at the stake.”
“You’re going to roast me alive?” asks the wide-eyed lad. “And then eat me up?”
“Yes,” replies the brown-haired boy, his hands roaming over his bound pal. “Roast you to a golden brown and serve you up to the tribe.”
Similar conversations have become a part of the game that both boys enjoy immensely. The same lines are used with minor variations and can go back and forth for quite a while.
Steve squirms around, enjoying the sensations of cords holding him against the pole. Dave uses the wriggling as an excuse to use the rest of his collection.
“No can let meat escape,” he says. “Chief will have me for dessert if that happen.”
Too many Tarzan movies.
He wraps a long rope around Steve’s waist several times pulling him snugly against the pole. Another rope round his upper thighs immobilizes him further.
No mention has been made about the physical reactions both boys have developed when playing their tie-up games, but through mutual silent agreement they’ve avoided touching in that area.
This time, Dave goes a little farther.
He uses the one remaining rope to connect the thigh rope to the waist rope, making sure it presses firmly against the bulge.
Steve reacts instantly. Eyes closed, he moans and presses his groin against the rope.
Dave watches intently, feeling his own bulge pressing against the cloth of his shorts. He’s had erections before and has been curious, but this is the first time he’s realized how good it can feel. Unconsciously, he begins touching himself but is distracted when Steve suddenly moans loudly, his eyes pop open and he makes several lunges against the ropes. He pumps furiously, as much as his restraints allow. After a few seconds he slumps, then looks sheepishly at his wide-eyed friend, his face red from exertion and embarrassment.
“Would you untie me please? I think… umm…”
“What?” asks the younger boy.
“I don’t know what,” Steve replies. “Except I don’t wanna be tied up anymore.”
Dave unties a few knots and his friend works his way out of the ropes, then leaves rather hurriedly.
A hot summer day in the suburbs. School’s out. Two boys are sitting on a back porch.
“Checkers?” asks the older.
“Yeah, I suppose. But if we both try to lose again it’ll take forever.”
“Okay, how about Chutes & Ladders? That one’s completely up to the dice.”
“Yeah, okay.”
The board is brought out and set up. It’s a stupid game but doesn’t take long to play and it’s hard to cheat. The excitement they both feel is wholly out of proportion to the insipid game. It’s a close match with Steve slightly ahead until he catches the final chute, handing the victory to Dave.
They had tried it the other way round with the winner becoming the captive since that’s what they both wanted, but it wasn’t the same. There’s an exquisite tightness in the chest that comes from seeing the other fellow pull ahead as you fall hopelessly behind. The loser is the one who should be punished, even if the punishment is desired.
“How do you want me?” asks the young blonde boy, not trying to hide his excitement.
“Stand with your back against the stake and cross your wrists behind it,” Dave replies sternly, getting into his role.
The older boy does as he’s told and stands complacently against the support post as his wrists and arms are bound with old soft clothesline.
“The cannibals captured you,” explains his friend. “They’re keeping you for the big feast.”
Most of their games involve cannibals. Sometimes there are still pirates or outlaws, but they haven’t found a reason for pirates and outlaws to fondle the captives. For that reason cannibals predominate.
Cannibal games require a great deal of touching. First, the meat must be examined, leanness tested and discussed, and which parts might be the tastiest determined. The cooking involves the application of various sauces and spices, all administered manually of course. Flames and heat stroke at the bare flesh. Finally the actual eating requires pinching, grabbing, stroking, and of course tickling. Both boys relish all that. The games differ in the manner in which the meat is prepared which allows for a variety of positions, however they all include bondage and touching.
Kneeling at his captive’s feet, the cannibal chef begins tying his prisoner’s legs. This is one of his favorite parts. Although both boys prefer being tied up, Dave loves to look at bare legs. Girls or boys, doesn’t matter. The only thing better than looking at legs is touching them and binding them. Or having his own legs bound and touched.
He takes his time, using one rope at the ankles and another above the knees, making every possible excuse to touch flesh. He feels himself begin to grow in his shorts and can’t help noticing a similar reaction in his captive.
Once he’s satisfied with his knots, he gathers up the remaining ropes and steps back to admire his handiwork.
“What are you going to do with me?” asks the frightened captive.
“You are to be dinner,” replies his captor.
“You’re going to eat me?”
“Not right away,” replies the young cannibal. “First you must be roasted at the stake.”
“You’re going to roast me alive?” asks the wide-eyed lad. “And then eat me up?”
“Yes,” replies the brown-haired boy, his hands roaming over his bound pal. “Roast you to a golden brown and serve you up to the tribe.”
Similar conversations have become a part of the game that both boys enjoy immensely. The same lines are used with minor variations and can go back and forth for quite a while.
Steve squirms around, enjoying the sensations of cords holding him against the pole. Dave uses the wriggling as an excuse to use the rest of his collection.
“No can let meat escape,” he says. “Chief will have me for dessert if that happen.”
Too many Tarzan movies.
He wraps a long rope around Steve’s waist several times pulling him snugly against the pole. Another rope round his upper thighs immobilizes him further.
No mention has been made about the physical reactions both boys have developed when playing their tie-up games, but through mutual silent agreement they’ve avoided touching in that area.
This time, Dave goes a little farther.
He uses the one remaining rope to connect the thigh rope to the waist rope, making sure it presses firmly against the bulge.
Steve reacts instantly. Eyes closed, he moans and presses his groin against the rope.
Dave watches intently, feeling his own bulge pressing against the cloth of his shorts. He’s had erections before and has been curious, but this is the first time he’s realized how good it can feel. Unconsciously, he begins touching himself but is distracted when Steve suddenly moans loudly, his eyes pop open and he makes several lunges against the ropes. He pumps furiously, as much as his restraints allow. After a few seconds he slumps, then looks sheepishly at his wide-eyed friend, his face red from exertion and embarrassment.
“Would you untie me please? I think… umm…”
“What?” asks the younger boy.
“I don’t know what,” Steve replies. “Except I don’t wanna be tied up anymore.”
Dave unties a few knots and his friend works his way out of the ropes, then leaves rather hurriedly.
Isn't that all sweeteee... 
I think I missed such games in my youth because I started to grow wood just a year or two after we stopped playing in the woods with my neighbor. Shit, he was hot 
IMO: present tense is always better, more immersive. Best suited for short scenes like that. Using past tenses often makes stories look like school work. (bad memories, misunderstood creativity
)
I think I missed such games in my youth because I started to grow wood just a year or two after we stopped playing in the woods with my neighbor. Shit, he was hot IMO: present tense is always better, more immersive. Best suited for short scenes like that. Using past tenses often makes stories look like school work. (bad memories, misunderstood creativity
)don't run ! I'm friendly ...
[mention]LK3869[/mention] you obviously quit playing in the woods too soon.
The next one is back to standard past tense - seems to work better that way - but I'll do more present tense in the future. I don't want anything to do with schoolwork.
And speaking of the next one, here it comes...
The next one is back to standard past tense - seems to work better that way - but I'll do more present tense in the future. I don't want anything to do with schoolwork.
And speaking of the next one, here it comes...
Dave was curious, however he wasn’t keen to humiliate himself. He’d felt whatever it was that happened to Steve almost as if it happened to him. He’d been close a couple times and now he wanted more.
It obviously had something to do with being tied up. Knowing that, he began experimenting on his own. While his mom was at work and his sister was out he would go into the basement where he began feverishly imprinting a lifetime of fantasies into his brain. He enjoyed the feel of rope against his skin and would usually dress in shorts or cutoff jeans, a short sleeved shirt, white socks and white canvas sneakers.
He saw a jungle movie with a captive hung up by his wrists and decided to try that. In the basement he wrapped some clothesline around his wrists and climbed onto a chair. He reached up and grabbed the I-beam that ran across the ceiling and stepped off the chair. He hung there as long as he could, imagining he was being cooked over a slow fire. He squirmed and kicked, raising his knees up to his chest as he dangled over the fire. Something about it was physically rewarding and he wanted it to last. Unfortunately his arms weren’t strong enough and he dropped to the floor. Now he was in the fire, cooking fast. The cannibals would eat him soon.
Lois Lane and other Damsels In Distress were often tied to chairs and they looked good like that. There was a picture in the comic strip Apartment 3G with young blonde Eve tied up in a chair. When she tried to talk her captor into letting her go he gagged her. Wow. Bound and gagged. That strip made it into his collection for further study. He decided he had to find out what it felt like.
There was an old dining room chair in the basement which he put to use. He rolled up a big blue kerchief, put it between his teeth, and tied a knot at the back of his neck. He made a little noise to test it and was surprised to find it not very effective. Still, it felt right.
Suitably gagged, he tied his ankles together and wrapped a rope around his wrists behind his back. He sat in the chair and squirmed around a little. Some bank robbers were holding him hostage. He had to escape! He wriggled and squirmed for a while. The feelings in his groin were quite sweet and he didn’t want to stop, but the rope on his wrists kept coming off making it difficult to pretend he couldn’t escape.
He spent some time developing a rope loop with which he could wrap his wrists so they felt tied up but could be easily and quickly released if someone started down the basement steps.
This was his own special game now. He still played with other kids whenever the opportunity arose and was more often than not the instigator of tie-up games. Those games were exciting in their own way but they seldom created the feelings he got in the basement by himself. There were other kids who seemed to share his particular urges but only Steve got into it on the same level, and they hadn’t played together since the embarrassment of Steve’s surprise ejaculation.
When it’s hot outside the basement is cool. The game feels good and is apparently somewhat addictive. A pubescent boy with a hobby can spend a lot of time down there.
Once, while collecting payments from his paper route customers a woman commented on how he looked.
“Those cute tan legs and those lean brown arms, why a gal could just eat you up!” she exclaimed as she rummaged through her purse. He blushed furiously, much to her amusement.
He quit collecting immediately and quickly pedaled home. He went to the basement and retrieved his pieces of rope, tied his ankles and slipped his wrists into his homemade rope cuffs.
The woman had captured him and taken him to her basement where she tied him up. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. Perhaps he was going to be dinner. He couldn’t think of any other reason she’d want him. He wriggled about trying desperately to escape. She was going to eat his “cute tan legs”. The sun had already roasted him so he didn’t even need cooking!
The front door opened and he heard his mother calling for him. Hooray for quick release knots.
In late August there was another momentous comic strip. Dick Tracy had been knocked out by some bad guys who planned to send him to his demise in one of the magnetic one-man flying machines the Police Force was using in those days. To fit his unconscious body into the available space, the criminals had folded up Tracy’s legs and tied them with his heels pressed against his butt. Dave closely examined this excellent idea, totally enthralled.
Steve stopped by later in the day for the first time since early summer and suggested a game. His mom had replaced the back yard clothesline and given the old rope to Steve. He washed it and dried it, cut it up, and was now the proud and horny owner of some excellent tie-up rope.
Chutes & Ladders was set up and the game began. As always when playing a game with a bondage experience in store for the loser, excitement began to build instantly. Steve pulled ahead and missed every chute while Dave lagged far behind. This time the older boy avoided the final chute and won easily.
He had apparently been doing research on his own. Besides tying Dave’s wrists behind his back, he wrapped rope around his chest and waist, pinning his arms against his body.
“Now,” he said, obviously breathing harder. “Get down on your knees.”
Dave awkwardly worked himself to the ground and managed to get up on his knees.
“No, not like that. Sit on your heels. But stay up on your toes.”
Steve began wrapping a rope around Dave’s thighs and ankles.
“You saw Dick Tracy too?”
“Yeah, but you lost so you have to try it out first.”
“Well at least you didn’t gag me,“ Dave replied, perhaps a little too hopefully.
“Not yet. But it’s an idea.” Steve moved away and sat down, watching.
This was something new. Kneeling on the cold cellar floor, his friend sitting across the room, watching and smiling. He squirmed around some and realized he couldn’t get loose, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Not at all.
He wriggled around as much as he could without tipping over, looking down at his bare thighs, marveling at the rope biting into his skin, totally enthralled with his helplessness.
A mirror was leaning against the wall and the sight of his bound and kneeling body was riveting. He tensed up, felt something about to happen, relaxed, felt it ease off.
He really wanted it to happen, more than he’d ever wanted anything, but somehow the moment had passed. And it seemed the wanting was maybe part of what made the whole thing so awesome. Whatever the reason, it stayed out of reach.
He continued wriggling around, enjoying the view in the mirror and the delightful twitchiness he was feeling, but his shorts and underwear had bunched up and were chafing. He put up with it for a while but eventually the discomfort outweighed the pleasure.
“Could you untie me now please?”
Steve smiled bigger. “Did your boner squirt?” he asked.
“No, but this hurts.”
Steve reluctantly and slowly released his captive, checking for a wet spot, disappointed when he didn’t find one.
Dave took his turn and tied Steve in a similar position. He watched intently as his friend squirmed and wriggled. It looked almost as good as it felt and Dave couldn’t resist touching, which increased Steve’s gyrations. Within a few moments the older boy managed to squirm and shrug his way out of the ropes.
“You really need to get a little better at this,” he said in a condescending tone. “It’s a lot more fun when I can’t escape.”
Dave decided to take his chum’s advice. The next morning he biked up to the hardware store and spent some of his paper route earnings on a hank of brand new cotton clothesline. Practice makes perfect.
It obviously had something to do with being tied up. Knowing that, he began experimenting on his own. While his mom was at work and his sister was out he would go into the basement where he began feverishly imprinting a lifetime of fantasies into his brain. He enjoyed the feel of rope against his skin and would usually dress in shorts or cutoff jeans, a short sleeved shirt, white socks and white canvas sneakers.
He saw a jungle movie with a captive hung up by his wrists and decided to try that. In the basement he wrapped some clothesline around his wrists and climbed onto a chair. He reached up and grabbed the I-beam that ran across the ceiling and stepped off the chair. He hung there as long as he could, imagining he was being cooked over a slow fire. He squirmed and kicked, raising his knees up to his chest as he dangled over the fire. Something about it was physically rewarding and he wanted it to last. Unfortunately his arms weren’t strong enough and he dropped to the floor. Now he was in the fire, cooking fast. The cannibals would eat him soon.
Lois Lane and other Damsels In Distress were often tied to chairs and they looked good like that. There was a picture in the comic strip Apartment 3G with young blonde Eve tied up in a chair. When she tried to talk her captor into letting her go he gagged her. Wow. Bound and gagged. That strip made it into his collection for further study. He decided he had to find out what it felt like.
There was an old dining room chair in the basement which he put to use. He rolled up a big blue kerchief, put it between his teeth, and tied a knot at the back of his neck. He made a little noise to test it and was surprised to find it not very effective. Still, it felt right.
Suitably gagged, he tied his ankles together and wrapped a rope around his wrists behind his back. He sat in the chair and squirmed around a little. Some bank robbers were holding him hostage. He had to escape! He wriggled and squirmed for a while. The feelings in his groin were quite sweet and he didn’t want to stop, but the rope on his wrists kept coming off making it difficult to pretend he couldn’t escape.
He spent some time developing a rope loop with which he could wrap his wrists so they felt tied up but could be easily and quickly released if someone started down the basement steps.
This was his own special game now. He still played with other kids whenever the opportunity arose and was more often than not the instigator of tie-up games. Those games were exciting in their own way but they seldom created the feelings he got in the basement by himself. There were other kids who seemed to share his particular urges but only Steve got into it on the same level, and they hadn’t played together since the embarrassment of Steve’s surprise ejaculation.
When it’s hot outside the basement is cool. The game feels good and is apparently somewhat addictive. A pubescent boy with a hobby can spend a lot of time down there.
Once, while collecting payments from his paper route customers a woman commented on how he looked.
“Those cute tan legs and those lean brown arms, why a gal could just eat you up!” she exclaimed as she rummaged through her purse. He blushed furiously, much to her amusement.
He quit collecting immediately and quickly pedaled home. He went to the basement and retrieved his pieces of rope, tied his ankles and slipped his wrists into his homemade rope cuffs.
The woman had captured him and taken him to her basement where she tied him up. He wasn’t sure what she wanted from him. Perhaps he was going to be dinner. He couldn’t think of any other reason she’d want him. He wriggled about trying desperately to escape. She was going to eat his “cute tan legs”. The sun had already roasted him so he didn’t even need cooking!
The front door opened and he heard his mother calling for him. Hooray for quick release knots.
In late August there was another momentous comic strip. Dick Tracy had been knocked out by some bad guys who planned to send him to his demise in one of the magnetic one-man flying machines the Police Force was using in those days. To fit his unconscious body into the available space, the criminals had folded up Tracy’s legs and tied them with his heels pressed against his butt. Dave closely examined this excellent idea, totally enthralled.
Steve stopped by later in the day for the first time since early summer and suggested a game. His mom had replaced the back yard clothesline and given the old rope to Steve. He washed it and dried it, cut it up, and was now the proud and horny owner of some excellent tie-up rope.
Chutes & Ladders was set up and the game began. As always when playing a game with a bondage experience in store for the loser, excitement began to build instantly. Steve pulled ahead and missed every chute while Dave lagged far behind. This time the older boy avoided the final chute and won easily.
He had apparently been doing research on his own. Besides tying Dave’s wrists behind his back, he wrapped rope around his chest and waist, pinning his arms against his body.
“Now,” he said, obviously breathing harder. “Get down on your knees.”
Dave awkwardly worked himself to the ground and managed to get up on his knees.
“No, not like that. Sit on your heels. But stay up on your toes.”
Steve began wrapping a rope around Dave’s thighs and ankles.
“You saw Dick Tracy too?”
“Yeah, but you lost so you have to try it out first.”
“Well at least you didn’t gag me,“ Dave replied, perhaps a little too hopefully.
“Not yet. But it’s an idea.” Steve moved away and sat down, watching.
This was something new. Kneeling on the cold cellar floor, his friend sitting across the room, watching and smiling. He squirmed around some and realized he couldn’t get loose, even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Not at all.
He wriggled around as much as he could without tipping over, looking down at his bare thighs, marveling at the rope biting into his skin, totally enthralled with his helplessness.
A mirror was leaning against the wall and the sight of his bound and kneeling body was riveting. He tensed up, felt something about to happen, relaxed, felt it ease off.
He really wanted it to happen, more than he’d ever wanted anything, but somehow the moment had passed. And it seemed the wanting was maybe part of what made the whole thing so awesome. Whatever the reason, it stayed out of reach.
He continued wriggling around, enjoying the view in the mirror and the delightful twitchiness he was feeling, but his shorts and underwear had bunched up and were chafing. He put up with it for a while but eventually the discomfort outweighed the pleasure.
“Could you untie me now please?”
Steve smiled bigger. “Did your boner squirt?” he asked.
“No, but this hurts.”
Steve reluctantly and slowly released his captive, checking for a wet spot, disappointed when he didn’t find one.
Dave took his turn and tied Steve in a similar position. He watched intently as his friend squirmed and wriggled. It looked almost as good as it felt and Dave couldn’t resist touching, which increased Steve’s gyrations. Within a few moments the older boy managed to squirm and shrug his way out of the ropes.
“You really need to get a little better at this,” he said in a condescending tone. “It’s a lot more fun when I can’t escape.”
Dave decided to take his chum’s advice. The next morning he biked up to the hardware store and spent some of his paper route earnings on a hank of brand new cotton clothesline. Practice makes perfect.
-
fratboydanny
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 361
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: United States
Awesome continuation [mention]MaxRoper[/mention]!
You got the 'blurry years' spirit right: experiencing new states and finding exotic explainations for them... First self-ties and how we find ideas from exterior sources and quickly become little experts, that's so well described.
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
Thank you for following and commenting [mention]fratboydanny[/mention] and [mention]LK3869[/mention] . It means a lot.
And "the blurry' years is correct. It was long ago. I've made up a lot of it and compressed various other bits to make a better story but the basic gist of the thing is definitely true.
Anyway, here comes part 4...
And "the blurry' years is correct. It was long ago. I've made up a lot of it and compressed various other bits to make a better story but the basic gist of the thing is definitely true.
Anyway, here comes part 4...
Part 4 - The New Rope
Dave took his new clothesline to the basement and removed the wrapper. It wasn’t as soft as Steve’s old rope. Still, it was his own personal rope. Just running it through his fingers excited him.
He decided not to cut it up right away because he didn’t want to get it wrong. He tried tying himself up with the whole hundred feet and got his legs wrapped up with a tight spiral that felt exciting and looked pretty good, but when he wriggled around the rope slid down to his ankles and he could step right out of the coils.
Now he had a tangled mess that took a while to sort out. A few more unsuccessful attempts convinced him he’d have to cut the rope.
He began by cutting it in half, but those pieces were still too long. He cut both of the fifty foot lengths in half again then cut two of the twenty-five foot pieces. He now had four twelve and a half foot lengths and two twenty-five footers.
He sat on the floor and used one of the shorter pieces to bind his ankles. Next he made a coil as he’d done before, slipping is wrists through, adjusting the size until it was right, then twisting once to create the feel of true captivity.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” he thought, rolling around on the concrete floor, captured by pirates and bound hand and foot. He would probably be sold to the cannibals if he couldn’t escape.
After a few minutes he decided he wasn’t tied up enough. He removed the coil from his wrists and attempted wrapping his arms and chest like Steve had done. He wrapped several coils around his torso and arms but was unable to tie a reasonable knot with his arms held against his body.
Thinking the wrist rope technique might work for a chest rope, he wrapped one of the twenty five foot ropes around his chest and upper arms several times, then slipped it off, keeping the loop the same size. He tied off the ends and put it back over his head, slipped his arms through and decided it was too loose.When he was satisfied with the size he made the knot more secure. He put it around his shoulders, slid his arms through, and shrugged it into position. When he had it where he wanted it he installed his wrist rope. A simple twist and he was nicely trussed up. Ready for delivery to the hungry cannibals.
He tried some other positions. The Dick Tracy folded-leg pose quickly became a favorite. He experimented with binding the doubled-up legs separately as well as together and found that separating them and tying each leg individually made it easier to remain upright. He also found that judicious rubbing of his bound thighs gave tremendous stimulation to his erection.
He slithered around on the floor, enjoying his self-imposed captivity, slipping into his fantasy world. If he didn’t escape soon he’d be roasted and eaten.
“Dave? Where are you?”
Oh jeez, his sister was home. He panicked and worked frantically at releasing himself. He twisted his wrists the wrong way at first, tightening the rope instead of loosening it. He quickly reversed course, got his wrists free, and shrugged off the chest rope. He scrambled to untie his legs as his sister continued calling for him.
“In the basement,” he hollered as he put his ropes into a paper bag.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” Lizzie asked as she tromped down the stairs. “What’ve you been up to down here?”
“Um, exercising?” Not very convincing.
“What’s in the bag?” She was infernally inquisitive.
“Um rope?” No sense lying about it.
“Rope? What’s that for.”
“Isometric exercise,” Dave replied, rather proud of his quick thinking.
“I don’t think I want to know,” Lizzie said. “Anyway, I saw Steve and he wants you to go over to his house.”
“Boys,” she muttered to herself she went up the stairs.
Dave grabbed his bag of new rope and followed, eager to put his acquisition to use.
Dave took his new clothesline to the basement and removed the wrapper. It wasn’t as soft as Steve’s old rope. Still, it was his own personal rope. Just running it through his fingers excited him.
He decided not to cut it up right away because he didn’t want to get it wrong. He tried tying himself up with the whole hundred feet and got his legs wrapped up with a tight spiral that felt exciting and looked pretty good, but when he wriggled around the rope slid down to his ankles and he could step right out of the coils.
Now he had a tangled mess that took a while to sort out. A few more unsuccessful attempts convinced him he’d have to cut the rope.
He began by cutting it in half, but those pieces were still too long. He cut both of the fifty foot lengths in half again then cut two of the twenty-five foot pieces. He now had four twelve and a half foot lengths and two twenty-five footers.
He sat on the floor and used one of the shorter pieces to bind his ankles. Next he made a coil as he’d done before, slipping is wrists through, adjusting the size until it was right, then twisting once to create the feel of true captivity.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” he thought, rolling around on the concrete floor, captured by pirates and bound hand and foot. He would probably be sold to the cannibals if he couldn’t escape.
After a few minutes he decided he wasn’t tied up enough. He removed the coil from his wrists and attempted wrapping his arms and chest like Steve had done. He wrapped several coils around his torso and arms but was unable to tie a reasonable knot with his arms held against his body.
Thinking the wrist rope technique might work for a chest rope, he wrapped one of the twenty five foot ropes around his chest and upper arms several times, then slipped it off, keeping the loop the same size. He tied off the ends and put it back over his head, slipped his arms through and decided it was too loose.When he was satisfied with the size he made the knot more secure. He put it around his shoulders, slid his arms through, and shrugged it into position. When he had it where he wanted it he installed his wrist rope. A simple twist and he was nicely trussed up. Ready for delivery to the hungry cannibals.
He tried some other positions. The Dick Tracy folded-leg pose quickly became a favorite. He experimented with binding the doubled-up legs separately as well as together and found that separating them and tying each leg individually made it easier to remain upright. He also found that judicious rubbing of his bound thighs gave tremendous stimulation to his erection.
He slithered around on the floor, enjoying his self-imposed captivity, slipping into his fantasy world. If he didn’t escape soon he’d be roasted and eaten.
“Dave? Where are you?”
Oh jeez, his sister was home. He panicked and worked frantically at releasing himself. He twisted his wrists the wrong way at first, tightening the rope instead of loosening it. He quickly reversed course, got his wrists free, and shrugged off the chest rope. He scrambled to untie his legs as his sister continued calling for him.
“In the basement,” he hollered as he put his ropes into a paper bag.
“Why didn’t you answer me?” Lizzie asked as she tromped down the stairs. “What’ve you been up to down here?”
“Um, exercising?” Not very convincing.
“What’s in the bag?” She was infernally inquisitive.
“Um rope?” No sense lying about it.
“Rope? What’s that for.”
“Isometric exercise,” Dave replied, rather proud of his quick thinking.
“I don’t think I want to know,” Lizzie said. “Anyway, I saw Steve and he wants you to go over to his house.”
“Boys,” she muttered to herself she went up the stairs.
Dave grabbed his bag of new rope and followed, eager to put his acquisition to use.
-
fratboydanny
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 361
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: United States
Nice new chapter! Thanks [mention]MaxRoper[/mention] !
It reminded me of the time I was home alone and went to the basement and tied myself up. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and it was my brother who stopped in for lunch. I couldn’t get untied fast enough. And then, i couldn’t get the navy blue bandanna gag untied. I had to use scissors to cut through it.
It reminded me of the time I was home alone and went to the basement and tied myself up. Suddenly there was a knock at the door and it was my brother who stopped in for lunch. I couldn’t get untied fast enough. And then, i couldn’t get the navy blue bandanna gag untied. I had to use scissors to cut through it.
Last edited by fratboydanny 5 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
Self-ties and their practical problems ... You're right, chest and arms are tricky. 
This story's full of well-observed touches, like the almost carnal bond with the gear you use.
On another note, I wonder if cannibalism is still a part of your fantasies, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention] , found some 'extreme' examples of that on DA
This story's full of well-observed touches, like the almost carnal bond with the gear you use.
On another note, I wonder if cannibalism is still a part of your fantasies, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention] , found some 'extreme' examples of that on DA
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
[mention]fratboydanny[/mention] , those are the kind of things that are totally frightening when they happen but become humorous as time passes. Especially if you managed to get away with it. Too bad you had to sacrifice a bandanna, though.
[mention]LK3869[/mention] self bondage experiments were quite enjoyable but could also be frustrating. There was no internet in those long ago times and we were on our own, but solutions were usually found.
Cannibalism still occasionally makes its way into my fantasies, but in a rather soft way. As a kid, I couldn't come up with any reason someone would want to capture me and tie me up unless they wanted to eat me. Since I desperately wanted to be tied (or to tie others), that was generally the basis. As I aged I found other reasons a person might want to take captives. The games I played with Steve were rather gentle. We never mentioned the fact that death was the usual result of being eaten. Selective fantasy.
Thanks again to both of you for following along and continuing to comment. Here comes the penultimate chapter...
[mention]LK3869[/mention] self bondage experiments were quite enjoyable but could also be frustrating. There was no internet in those long ago times and we were on our own, but solutions were usually found.
Cannibalism still occasionally makes its way into my fantasies, but in a rather soft way. As a kid, I couldn't come up with any reason someone would want to capture me and tie me up unless they wanted to eat me. Since I desperately wanted to be tied (or to tie others), that was generally the basis. As I aged I found other reasons a person might want to take captives. The games I played with Steve were rather gentle. We never mentioned the fact that death was the usual result of being eaten. Selective fantasy.
Thanks again to both of you for following along and continuing to comment. Here comes the penultimate chapter...
Part 5 - Trolls
Steve was on his front porch when Dave arrived.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dave asked .
“Not much. What’s in the bag?”
”I got some rope. Is that what you had in mind?”
“Something like that,” Steve said. “Except we should quit doing board games. Takes too much time. C’mon.”
They got up and went around the side of the house.
“Let’s say you’re an explorer,” the older boy said. “You got lost in the jungle and decided to make camp.”
They went into the far corner, back by the toolshed. Several bushes and trees made it a secluded area. Steve went inside the shed and returned with a canvas tarp and an old blanket. Dave took these supplies and began setting up a camp while Steve slipped away.
A few minutes later a whiffle ball came whiffling over the bushes and hit the feckless explorer in the shoulder.
“There’s a sleep drug on that,” came a voice from the bushes. “You’re knocked out.”
Dave slumped to the ground, eyes closed. He heard rustling and felt someone nearby. He opened one eye but Steve told him to knock it off. He complied and lay quietly in darkness as his were tied and his wrists bound behind his back. A bandana was wrapped round his eyes.
“You can start waking up now,” Steve said. “But slowly. You’re still dopey.”
Dave began moving and mumbling as Steve explained the storyline.
“Trolls captured you,“ he said. “They haven’t had meat for a long time. They did some magic and think you were sent by the gods to feed the tribe.”
Dave was wearing a tee shirt, socks and sneakers, and knee-length cutoff jeans. Steve ran his hands over Dave’s bare arms and legs, testing the meat for tenderness. Dave wriggled around and shivered with pleasure, wishing he’d thought to wear skimpier shorts.
“You let me go!” he said. “You’ll never get away with this!”
Steve loosened the blindfold and slid it down, turning it into a cleave gag before retightening it. Any sort of gag automatically reduced the wearer to unintelligible mumbling.
Dave looked around and was pleased to see he was tied up with his own new ropes. Steve had also brought several large troll dolls, presumably borrowed from his little sister.
Steve resumed fondling the captive.
“They’re marinading you,” he explained.
Dave had no idea what that meant but didn’t particularly care. The marinading soon changed to cooking which was also accomplished with much stroking and tickling. Dave closed his eyes and surrendered to the hands roaming over his legs and arms. He found himself wishing Steve would lick him, or maybe even bite him.
“Now it’s time to prepare you for the table,“ Steve said. “Get up on your knees and toes.”
Dave scrambled to obey and Steve wrapped a long rope round his thighs and ankles, tying him into a kneeling position. His wrists were untied, then tied to his ankles and he was pushed onto his back. His knees were up against his chest and the ropes were quite tight. It was wonderful.
“Are you ready to be eaten?”
Dave nodded, eyes closed, concentrating on what he was feeling.
“Good. The tribe is hungry.”
Dave felt like a trussed-up turkey. He imagined himself on a platter in the center of a table. He was tied up and cooked, ready to be eaten. The ropes were biting into his legs and wrists, and his erection was the center of his world. It felt marvelous and he knew from his private games there was another level available but decided he wasn’t ready to go there with another person around. Not yet. He didn’t mind, instead reveling in the moment.
“Time for dinner.”
Steve picked up one of the troll dolls and began making eating noises as he ran the plastic beast over his captive’s bound arms and bare shins.
Steve picked up a second troll and both creatures set to work consuming their bound captive. The feast went on for several minutes as Dave writhed and giggled into his gag. Finally Steve sat back on his heels.
“How was that?” he asked.
Dave rolled himself back up onto his knees and pushed the gag out with his tongue.
“Excellent!” he replied. “Untie me now?”
Steve leaned forward and began picking at the knots. He didn’t ask but was obviously looking for the elusive wet spot and was again disappointed when he didn’t find one.
“Ready for your turn?” Dave asked once he was completely untied.
“You bet!” Steve said. “But wait here a second. I’ll be right back.”
Dave assumed his pal had to pee or something but wasn’t entirely surprised when Steve returned wearing white gym shorts and an unbuttoned short sleeved shirt.
One of the trolls jumped onto Steve’s shoulder and bit his neck.
“Venom,” Dave explained. “Knocks you right out.”
Steve slumped to the ground and was rolled onto his back. His wrists were bound in front and tied over his head to the base of a tree. One of the trolls moved down and tied his ankles and attached them to another tree, stretching him out. Dave stood over his prisoner.
“Don’t know how to marinade,” he said. “But these guys are still hungry. I think we’ll just slow roast you.”
He dropped to his knees and began running his hands over Steve’s body, cooking the captive. Steve squirmed around and soon started making threats and begging to be let free. This of course led to a gag. He mmphed and moaned as the roasting continued.
When Dave decided the meat was done, it was feast time. The trolls began at Steve’s outstretched wrists, working their way slowly along his arms to his shoulders, munching and chomping on the squirming prisoner. One of the plastic dolls was in Dave’s left hand occasionally moving in for a bite, but most of the ‘eating’ was done with Dave’s fingers. He stroked and pinched, noticing what Steve seemed to like best.
He learned Steve liked gentle touches much more than pinches and tickling. Dave was an empathetic lad and concentrated on making his chum feel good with lots of soft fingertip strokes.
He straddled his captive’s waist as the feasting continued down onto his chest and stomach. The bulge in Steve’s shorts was quite noticeable.
The struggling and moaning intensified as Dave slid down lower. He enjoyed feeling Steve moving around under him.
The trolls took a long time eating Steve’s thighs and legs. Dave wondered what Steve would taste like. He remembered how he’d hoped Steve might lick or bite him and was considering what would happen if he chose to lick a bare thigh. He leaned forward, one hand pressing against Steve’s boner, but before he reached his goal Steve suddenly arched his back and made a loud noise into the gag, thrusting and moaning, pushing against Dave’s palm.
Dave pretended not to notice the damp spot as he climbed off, removed Steve’s gag and began untying knots.
“Hungry trolls is a good game,” he said.
Steve breathlessly agreed.
Steve was on his front porch when Dave arrived.
“Hey, what’s up?” Dave asked .
“Not much. What’s in the bag?”
”I got some rope. Is that what you had in mind?”
“Something like that,” Steve said. “Except we should quit doing board games. Takes too much time. C’mon.”
They got up and went around the side of the house.
“Let’s say you’re an explorer,” the older boy said. “You got lost in the jungle and decided to make camp.”
They went into the far corner, back by the toolshed. Several bushes and trees made it a secluded area. Steve went inside the shed and returned with a canvas tarp and an old blanket. Dave took these supplies and began setting up a camp while Steve slipped away.
A few minutes later a whiffle ball came whiffling over the bushes and hit the feckless explorer in the shoulder.
“There’s a sleep drug on that,” came a voice from the bushes. “You’re knocked out.”
Dave slumped to the ground, eyes closed. He heard rustling and felt someone nearby. He opened one eye but Steve told him to knock it off. He complied and lay quietly in darkness as his were tied and his wrists bound behind his back. A bandana was wrapped round his eyes.
“You can start waking up now,” Steve said. “But slowly. You’re still dopey.”
Dave began moving and mumbling as Steve explained the storyline.
“Trolls captured you,“ he said. “They haven’t had meat for a long time. They did some magic and think you were sent by the gods to feed the tribe.”
Dave was wearing a tee shirt, socks and sneakers, and knee-length cutoff jeans. Steve ran his hands over Dave’s bare arms and legs, testing the meat for tenderness. Dave wriggled around and shivered with pleasure, wishing he’d thought to wear skimpier shorts.
“You let me go!” he said. “You’ll never get away with this!”
Steve loosened the blindfold and slid it down, turning it into a cleave gag before retightening it. Any sort of gag automatically reduced the wearer to unintelligible mumbling.
Dave looked around and was pleased to see he was tied up with his own new ropes. Steve had also brought several large troll dolls, presumably borrowed from his little sister.
Steve resumed fondling the captive.
“They’re marinading you,” he explained.
Dave had no idea what that meant but didn’t particularly care. The marinading soon changed to cooking which was also accomplished with much stroking and tickling. Dave closed his eyes and surrendered to the hands roaming over his legs and arms. He found himself wishing Steve would lick him, or maybe even bite him.
“Now it’s time to prepare you for the table,“ Steve said. “Get up on your knees and toes.”
Dave scrambled to obey and Steve wrapped a long rope round his thighs and ankles, tying him into a kneeling position. His wrists were untied, then tied to his ankles and he was pushed onto his back. His knees were up against his chest and the ropes were quite tight. It was wonderful.
“Are you ready to be eaten?”
Dave nodded, eyes closed, concentrating on what he was feeling.
“Good. The tribe is hungry.”
Dave felt like a trussed-up turkey. He imagined himself on a platter in the center of a table. He was tied up and cooked, ready to be eaten. The ropes were biting into his legs and wrists, and his erection was the center of his world. It felt marvelous and he knew from his private games there was another level available but decided he wasn’t ready to go there with another person around. Not yet. He didn’t mind, instead reveling in the moment.
“Time for dinner.”
Steve picked up one of the troll dolls and began making eating noises as he ran the plastic beast over his captive’s bound arms and bare shins.
Steve picked up a second troll and both creatures set to work consuming their bound captive. The feast went on for several minutes as Dave writhed and giggled into his gag. Finally Steve sat back on his heels.
“How was that?” he asked.
Dave rolled himself back up onto his knees and pushed the gag out with his tongue.
“Excellent!” he replied. “Untie me now?”
Steve leaned forward and began picking at the knots. He didn’t ask but was obviously looking for the elusive wet spot and was again disappointed when he didn’t find one.
“Ready for your turn?” Dave asked once he was completely untied.
“You bet!” Steve said. “But wait here a second. I’ll be right back.”
Dave assumed his pal had to pee or something but wasn’t entirely surprised when Steve returned wearing white gym shorts and an unbuttoned short sleeved shirt.
One of the trolls jumped onto Steve’s shoulder and bit his neck.
“Venom,” Dave explained. “Knocks you right out.”
Steve slumped to the ground and was rolled onto his back. His wrists were bound in front and tied over his head to the base of a tree. One of the trolls moved down and tied his ankles and attached them to another tree, stretching him out. Dave stood over his prisoner.
“Don’t know how to marinade,” he said. “But these guys are still hungry. I think we’ll just slow roast you.”
He dropped to his knees and began running his hands over Steve’s body, cooking the captive. Steve squirmed around and soon started making threats and begging to be let free. This of course led to a gag. He mmphed and moaned as the roasting continued.
When Dave decided the meat was done, it was feast time. The trolls began at Steve’s outstretched wrists, working their way slowly along his arms to his shoulders, munching and chomping on the squirming prisoner. One of the plastic dolls was in Dave’s left hand occasionally moving in for a bite, but most of the ‘eating’ was done with Dave’s fingers. He stroked and pinched, noticing what Steve seemed to like best.
He learned Steve liked gentle touches much more than pinches and tickling. Dave was an empathetic lad and concentrated on making his chum feel good with lots of soft fingertip strokes.
He straddled his captive’s waist as the feasting continued down onto his chest and stomach. The bulge in Steve’s shorts was quite noticeable.
The struggling and moaning intensified as Dave slid down lower. He enjoyed feeling Steve moving around under him.
The trolls took a long time eating Steve’s thighs and legs. Dave wondered what Steve would taste like. He remembered how he’d hoped Steve might lick or bite him and was considering what would happen if he chose to lick a bare thigh. He leaned forward, one hand pressing against Steve’s boner, but before he reached his goal Steve suddenly arched his back and made a loud noise into the gag, thrusting and moaning, pushing against Dave’s palm.
Dave pretended not to notice the damp spot as he climbed off, removed Steve’s gag and began untying knots.
“Hungry trolls is a good game,” he said.
Steve breathlessly agreed.
Part 6 - Conclusion
The Hungry Trolls game has been a smashing success and both boys want to play again. It’s late August, hot and humid. They sit on Steve’s porch drinking cokes. Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out some small troll dolls, maybe two inches long.
He slides one of them up Dave’s arm while making eating noises.
“He likes you,” Steve says. “They might use you to make stew.”
“Stew? How would they make me into stew?”
Although they’ve played the stew version before, one of the good parts of any game is when the captor explains what's going to happen.
“They’d put you in a pot with potatoes and carrots and cook you up,” Steve says.
“What if I tried to get away? Would they tie me up before cooking me?” Dave asks, glad he’d chosen short cutoffs.
“Yep,” Steve says. “Tied up and slow cooked until you’re all tender and juicy.”
“And then what would happen to me?” Dave asks, feeling things stirring in his jockeys. “They wouldn’t… eat me, would they??”
“Yep. Slow cook you, and then serve you up as stew and eat you.”
Both boys are grinning widely by this point.
Not many minutes later Dave is in the concrete laundry tub in Steve’s basement, wrists tied behind his back, legs doubled up with his thighs against his chest. He squirms around, enjoying his captivity and the interesting feelings in the center of his young body.
“Wait here,” Steve says.
He turns and runs up the stairs. Dave wriggles around, confined within the cook pot and the ropes.
Steve tromps back down the steps and produces a smallish potato.
“Open up,” he commands.
Dave has seen a picture of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth and readily obeys. With the potato in his mouth he finds he can only make mmphing noises. He knows he can bite through it at any time and spit it out, but why would he want that? Truly being unable to speak takes the game to a new level. He closes his eyes, imagining he’s being cooked.
Steve perches on a stool and watches the younger boy moaning and writhing in the pot. This part is boring for the captor and his attention wanders. He starts thinking about what he’d like to have done to him when it’s his turn. These thoughts lead to an erection which in turn leads to the tied up boy in the tub becoming more interesting.
He walks over and begins gently touching Dave’s bound legs, doing what he enjoys having done to him. He runs his fingers over the bare skin, working his way slowly up the shins and calves, spending several minutes playing with Dave’s knees.
The captive is tied up in a ball but Steve has little trouble sliding his right hand down between the bound thighs, touching and prodding. The other hand continues roaming over the shins and knees and outer thighs.
Steve’s right hand is cupped around the bulge in Dave’s shorts as he leans in and nibbles on Dave’s knee.
His bound friend squeaks into the potato, and presses hard against Steve’s hand. Steve continues touching and teasing. Dave closes his eyes and pushes back back against Steve’s hand. The feelings intensify. Steve grinds his palm against Dave’s bulging shorts. Dave moans and grunts around the potato, pushing back, trying desperately to scale that final peak.
They hear heavy footsteps on the floor above. The door to the basement opens.
“Steve? You down here?”
Steve’s dad.
The boys waste precious seconds staring at each other, eyes the size of silver dollars.
The Hungry Trolls game has been a smashing success and both boys want to play again. It’s late August, hot and humid. They sit on Steve’s porch drinking cokes. Steve reaches into his pocket and pulls out some small troll dolls, maybe two inches long.
He slides one of them up Dave’s arm while making eating noises.
“He likes you,” Steve says. “They might use you to make stew.”
“Stew? How would they make me into stew?”
Although they’ve played the stew version before, one of the good parts of any game is when the captor explains what's going to happen.
“They’d put you in a pot with potatoes and carrots and cook you up,” Steve says.
“What if I tried to get away? Would they tie me up before cooking me?” Dave asks, glad he’d chosen short cutoffs.
“Yep,” Steve says. “Tied up and slow cooked until you’re all tender and juicy.”
“And then what would happen to me?” Dave asks, feeling things stirring in his jockeys. “They wouldn’t… eat me, would they??”
“Yep. Slow cook you, and then serve you up as stew and eat you.”
Both boys are grinning widely by this point.
Not many minutes later Dave is in the concrete laundry tub in Steve’s basement, wrists tied behind his back, legs doubled up with his thighs against his chest. He squirms around, enjoying his captivity and the interesting feelings in the center of his young body.
“Wait here,” Steve says.
He turns and runs up the stairs. Dave wriggles around, confined within the cook pot and the ropes.
Steve tromps back down the steps and produces a smallish potato.
“Open up,” he commands.
Dave has seen a picture of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth and readily obeys. With the potato in his mouth he finds he can only make mmphing noises. He knows he can bite through it at any time and spit it out, but why would he want that? Truly being unable to speak takes the game to a new level. He closes his eyes, imagining he’s being cooked.
Steve perches on a stool and watches the younger boy moaning and writhing in the pot. This part is boring for the captor and his attention wanders. He starts thinking about what he’d like to have done to him when it’s his turn. These thoughts lead to an erection which in turn leads to the tied up boy in the tub becoming more interesting.
He walks over and begins gently touching Dave’s bound legs, doing what he enjoys having done to him. He runs his fingers over the bare skin, working his way slowly up the shins and calves, spending several minutes playing with Dave’s knees.
The captive is tied up in a ball but Steve has little trouble sliding his right hand down between the bound thighs, touching and prodding. The other hand continues roaming over the shins and knees and outer thighs.
Steve’s right hand is cupped around the bulge in Dave’s shorts as he leans in and nibbles on Dave’s knee.
His bound friend squeaks into the potato, and presses hard against Steve’s hand. Steve continues touching and teasing. Dave closes his eyes and pushes back back against Steve’s hand. The feelings intensify. Steve grinds his palm against Dave’s bulging shorts. Dave moans and grunts around the potato, pushing back, trying desperately to scale that final peak.
They hear heavy footsteps on the floor above. The door to the basement opens.
“Steve? You down here?”
Steve’s dad.
The boys waste precious seconds staring at each other, eyes the size of silver dollars.
Last edited by MaxRoper 5 years ago, edited 1 time in total.
So that was "conclusion: part one", wasn't it? Or poor Dave will never join Steve in 'wet spot land '
Still an original and sweet 'exploration' story...
Still an original and sweet 'exploration' story...
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
Thanks [mention]LK3869[/mention] . Yep, that's all, at least for now. I may write more about the boys later, but the lack of response (except you and [mention]fratboydanny[/mention] ) convinced me it's time to move on to something else.
[mention]MaxRoper[/mention] : the usual 'so sad to read that', but it's heartfelt. I've blown fuses about it on DA too, so I sympathize.
Had to learn to doing it just for the fun and mental sport but that ain't easy, all the more when you put personal stuff into it. And it's true softer and sweet subjects are often eclipsed by more 'spectacular' things here and there's so much to read and average reader go for stereotypes, don't know...
Sure thing is returns online never match investment. It's always like you have to put your hand into others' throats and pull their tongues out for comments; but hopefully it's more a question of 'volume' than of quality of the feedback. (a little Coué method helps, or zen sessions...
)
For what it's worth, I found it very accurate in the way it describes those years where unerstanding of the things of life collides with childhood vision of the world, and how TUGs played a part in it for all of us here (whether just in their mind of in real life, interacting with others...). And that's so well told and it made me all emotional in the good way.
A little obvious trick to cheer you up, but when people say such things to me, I go for another round
Had to learn to doing it just for the fun and mental sport but that ain't easy, all the more when you put personal stuff into it. And it's true softer and sweet subjects are often eclipsed by more 'spectacular' things here and there's so much to read and average reader go for stereotypes, don't know...
Sure thing is returns online never match investment. It's always like you have to put your hand into others' throats and pull their tongues out for comments; but hopefully it's more a question of 'volume' than of quality of the feedback. (a little Coué method helps, or zen sessions...
)For what it's worth, I found it very accurate in the way it describes those years where unerstanding of the things of life collides with childhood vision of the world, and how TUGs played a part in it for all of us here (whether just in their mind of in real life, interacting with others...). And that's so well told and it made me all emotional in the good way.
A little obvious trick to cheer you up, but when people say such things to me, I go for another round
don't run ! I'm friendly ...
-
Deleted User 3263
Greetings!
I thought the whole concept and the telling was great! While I never fantasized this type of cannibalism, it's a great "in" to getting these boys engaged in early exploration bondage with each other. Made perfect sense. And peril, in any form, is a terrific aphrodisiac. One of my main scary-fantasies was of being wrapped in spider's webbing and set aside to be munched on when the spider returned to his lair. (It was always a boy spider, never a Shelob, go figure.) Maybe that's why a spider plays prominently in Jackson's first peril in ADVENTURER'S SON.
And as an aside...I know I'm new to the Forums, and I have a TON of reading to catch up on, but I'd love for us all to comment and support more the work of the writers posting here. Lurkers are lurkers for a reason. But once you're registered, I'd hope you'd do your part to help grow the product and the community. A little note of appreciation goes a long way, yes? Art can't exist in a vacuum, and if we want more things to see and experience, we need to let those who create it know that they are valued. Okay, getting off the soap box...
Write on, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention], write on!
I thought the whole concept and the telling was great! While I never fantasized this type of cannibalism, it's a great "in" to getting these boys engaged in early exploration bondage with each other. Made perfect sense. And peril, in any form, is a terrific aphrodisiac. One of my main scary-fantasies was of being wrapped in spider's webbing and set aside to be munched on when the spider returned to his lair. (It was always a boy spider, never a Shelob, go figure.) Maybe that's why a spider plays prominently in Jackson's first peril in ADVENTURER'S SON.
And as an aside...I know I'm new to the Forums, and I have a TON of reading to catch up on, but I'd love for us all to comment and support more the work of the writers posting here. Lurkers are lurkers for a reason. But once you're registered, I'd hope you'd do your part to help grow the product and the community. A little note of appreciation goes a long way, yes? Art can't exist in a vacuum, and if we want more things to see and experience, we need to let those who create it know that they are valued. Okay, getting off the soap box...
Write on, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention], write on!
Thanks [mention]LK3869[/mention] and [mention]boygagged[/mention] . Your responses are quite gratifying.
I posted a version of this at the old site and decided to enhance it a bit and make it longer before posting here. It was originally an exploration of the origins of my my relationship with bondage (I was Dave).
As anyone who writes is aware, there are countless hours involved in something like this. Responses are of course appreciated, but not required. I'll continue writing for the rest of my life, and bondage will remain a major component of at least some of it, however it seems this may not be the right spot for me.
My previous story (Leslie Cannon Stops By) was, I thought, the best thing I'd ever done. It received a total of one response (thanks [mention]Canuck100[/mention] !). I notice what receives multiple replies here and am aware that what the majority prefers isn't what I write. I suppose I'm still searching for the correct venue.
I currently have a dozen or so tales in various stages. Most of them are probably for my own enjoyment only, but I will post more stories here when I come up with something the locals might enjoy.
Thanks again!
I posted a version of this at the old site and decided to enhance it a bit and make it longer before posting here. It was originally an exploration of the origins of my my relationship with bondage (I was Dave).
As anyone who writes is aware, there are countless hours involved in something like this. Responses are of course appreciated, but not required. I'll continue writing for the rest of my life, and bondage will remain a major component of at least some of it, however it seems this may not be the right spot for me.
My previous story (Leslie Cannon Stops By) was, I thought, the best thing I'd ever done. It received a total of one response (thanks [mention]Canuck100[/mention] !). I notice what receives multiple replies here and am aware that what the majority prefers isn't what I write. I suppose I'm still searching for the correct venue.
I currently have a dozen or so tales in various stages. Most of them are probably for my own enjoyment only, but I will post more stories here when I come up with something the locals might enjoy.
Thanks again!
-
Deleted User 3263
My pleasure.
I'm basically writing a bondage-themed screenplay adventure with THE ADVENTURER'S SON - not a simple task - and have gotten no response from anyone who has looked at it. But I'll keep plugging away to fulfill my commitment - even if it's only to myself. Writing is the loneliest profession, next to toll booth operator (I hear). - boygagged
I'm basically writing a bondage-themed screenplay adventure with THE ADVENTURER'S SON - not a simple task - and have gotten no response from anyone who has looked at it. But I'll keep plugging away to fulfill my commitment - even if it's only to myself. Writing is the loneliest profession, next to toll booth operator (I hear). - boygagged
-
bondagefreak
- Honorary Member
- Posts: 5502
- Joined: 6 years ago
- Location: Québec
- Contact:
[mention]MaxRoper[/mention] [mention]boygagged[/mention] Guys, calm yourselves.
This IS the perfect venue to write and get proper feedback. "Dave & Steve's Adventures" has garnered very few responses so far, but the content or the membership is not at all fault.
This is simply a case of right place, wrong time.
Late December through January is historically the quietest time on the forum. Was the same on tugs.net.
Look around. There isn't a single popular M/M story on here right now. The story threads garnering a few posts, are generally being fuelled by the authors themselves. Even the most popular story on this forum (which is normally abuzz with activity) has been averaging one comment per chapter for the past several weeks.
I've even been posting on a few of my favourites stories this week, simply to remind the authors in question that January is always a really quiet month. Readers and reviewers will be flocking back in the coming week or two.
Be patient.
This IS the perfect venue to write and get proper feedback. "Dave & Steve's Adventures" has garnered very few responses so far, but the content or the membership is not at all fault.
This is simply a case of right place, wrong time.
Late December through January is historically the quietest time on the forum. Was the same on tugs.net.
Look around. There isn't a single popular M/M story on here right now. The story threads garnering a few posts, are generally being fuelled by the authors themselves. Even the most popular story on this forum (which is normally abuzz with activity) has been averaging one comment per chapter for the past several weeks.
I've even been posting on a few of my favourites stories this week, simply to remind the authors in question that January is always a really quiet month. Readers and reviewers will be flocking back in the coming week or two.
Be patient.
-
Deleted User 3263
I'm nothing if not patient...bondagefreak wrote: ↑5 years ago @MaxRoper @boygagged Guys, calm yourselves.
This IS the perfect venue to write and get proper feedback. "Dave & Steve's Adventures" has garnered very few responses so far, but the content or the membership is not at all fault.
This is simply a case of right place, wrong time.
Late December through January is historically the quietest time on the forum. Was the same on tugs.net.
Look around. There isn't a single popular M/M story on here right now. The story threads garnering a few posts, are generally being fuelled by the authors themselves. Even the most popular story on this forum (which is normally abuzz with activity) has been averaging one comment per chapter for the past several weeks.
I've even been posting on a few of my favourites stories this week, simply to remind the authors in question that January is always a really quiet month. Readers and reviewers will be flocking back in the coming week or two.
Be patient.