Free Spirit Haven m/f X6

[LordNelson]

The Free Spirit Haven. You can’t find it on the internet. You won’t see advertisements for it. You will never speak to anyone willing to admit that they have been there. It’s almost like it doesn’t exist. But it does.

Back in 1969 a group of hippies was disappointed in the selection of summer camps available for their children. They felt that the curriculum was too rigid and conformist. The goal seemed to be to turn out kids that all thought and acted the same way.

Hippie.jpg

They started their own camp where the kids received no guidance or instruction. They were introduced to various aspects of society through games and competitions and allowed to develop their own approach’s and solutions. Fifty years later the camp is going strong and turning out unique individuals…free spirits.

My group consisted of six boys and six girls, all twelve-years-old. It was an amazing experience for two weeks but the most incredible thing was the afternoon of the second last day. It was the annual TUG contest.

I had never heard of TUG’s before and as it turned out the only one who had was the Asian boy, Lam, who had been advised about it by his parents. It seems that is how they met when they were campers here.

The boys were gathered in the dining hall with the head counsellor while the girls enjoyed free time. The girl’s names were put into a hat and we would each draw one out. We were told that we would abduct and tie up our selected girl and be judged on style, creativity and of course the effectiveness of our method of restraint. I thought about our choice of girls.

Ingrid is an aspiring rock musician who always wears tight jeans and t-shirts emblazoned with the logos of her favorite bands. Her short blond hair and skinny body give her a boyish look but with her pretty face she is clearly a girl.

Pamela is a full-figured girl with a wide butt, big boobs and shoulder length blondish curly hair. Her intense blue eyes and warm smile make her a sweet looking girl.

Juanita is a basketball player and wore a different uniform, featuring baggy shorts and tank tops, every day. Her long black hair and dark complexion give her an exotic look.

Charlotte is a tall thin girl with long blond hair who wears blouses and skirts all the time with gladiator sandals that have straps that go all the way up to her knees.

Cassandra is a pretty girl with shiny auburn hair, big brown eyes and freckles. She has a huge smile and an infectious laugh. Of all the girls she has the nicest legs. She is normally clad in a tank top and very short denim shorts. Her arms and legs are well tanned.

Cheryl was very pretty and did a lot of modeling. Her main activity at camp was to work on a great tan.

I drew the name of Charlotte. I was quite pleased. She would be fun to capture and subdue. Then I saw the look on Terry’s face. He didn’t look pleased and I knew why. He had drawn Cassandra’s name.

Terry was an unimaginative, uncreative and boring fellow who walked through life like a zombie. If ever anyone was destined to be a free spirit failure it was him. I knew that Cassandra was going to have a terrible experience with him.

‘Hey Terry’ I called out ‘how would you like to trade? I have Charlotte.’

His expression changed to a microscopically happier one. He snatched the name tag from my hand and gave me his. It said “Cassandra”. Now he was relieved of the challenge of figuring out what to do with her. She is the first handicapped camper to attend the haven.

Cassandra’s legs were weakened by a childhood medical condition. She can walk a short distance with the help of two canes and spends most of her time on a cherry red electric scooter. I was no knight in shining armor but I knew that she deserved to be treated better that Terry would treat her. His lack of enthusiasm for anything but mathematics would make the game horrible for her.

scooter.jpg

The counsellor dumped a box of various TUG gear on the table, ropes and tape and zip ties etc., and we helped ourselves. I had to think quickly and managed to get what I needed to suit my special needs. Then we all went off to find our prey.

Cassandra as usual was tending to the flower beds that bordered the cabins. She spent all of her free time pulling weeds and pruning. She was more comfortable with plants than people. She saw me coming.

‘So, I guess you are the loser that got my name’ she said sarcastically ‘you won’t have any trouble catching a cripple.’

‘You talk too much’ I told her ‘and I don’t like what you say.’ I pushed a red ball gag into her mouth and before she could protest, I had the straps buckled up tight. Then I snapped a pair of handcuffs on her, one cuff around her wrist, the other to her handlebars. I did the same to the other hand. She was now bound to her scooter but still able to drive it.

I snapped another set of cuffs around her ankles. They weren’t necessary but I wasn’t going to treat her any differently than any of the other girls. The sparkle in her eyes told me that she would have been smiling if she wasn’t gagged.

While the other guys were carrying off their prizes off or forcing them to march along, I took a different approach. I put a wide black leather dog collar around her neck and clipped a silver chain leash to it.

‘Follow me’ I commanded. She pressed the throttle and trailed behind me with an electric hum.

Half an hour later the boys were drawing names again, our own, to select the order in which we were going to be judged. I was to be last.

Terry led us to the archery range. He had found Charlotte there and tied her up on the spot. She was bound to a target easel, her hands above her head to the point where the three legs met and her legs spread to the legs of the easel. She was tied with bow strings. He had gagged her with a bright red bandanna that she had been wearing.

target-round.jpg

Being stretched like that her blouse had pulled out of her skirt and exposed about eight inches of her tummy. In a moment of rare creativity Terry had gotten some paints from the craft room and colored an archery target centered around her navel.

Next Barry took us to the kitchen. Pamela had been making desserts for tonight’s supper. She was now sitting on top of the countertop. Her hands were tied behind her with the strings of her apron. Dangling from her feet was the frying pan, her ankles bound with the cord. The kettle hung from her knees and a dish cloth stuffed into her mouth was held in by the toaster cord.

kitchen.JPG

Andy took us down to the dock where Cheryl was normally found stretched out on the lounger sun bathing. She was still stretched out on the lounger. The two cushions of the seat each had string ties at all four corners that tied around the chairs metal frame. He had knotted the strings to the tubing of the seat and then knotted them again around her ankles and wrists. Her hands were above her head to the top corners of the back and her ankles were spread to the far corners of the seat holding her in a seated spread eagle.

lounge.jpeg

In her mouth was a simple cleave gag fashioned from the wide yellow hat band of her sun hat. It was tied quite tight.

Craig led us to the basketball court where pretty Latina Juanita was bound to the post that held up the backboard. He had selected some shiny white ropes, about as thick as a pencil, from the box of gear. The white rope looked amazing against her dark skin. He had looped it about eight times before cinching it. Her hands were bound together above her head to the post and her ankles and knees were tied the same way.

bball.png

One shoe was off and her missing sock was obviously stuffed into her mouth, her cheeks were bulging. He had cleverly taken down the net from the hoop and put it over her head to hold the sock in. He had snugged up the net around her head using the daisy chain knot we had been taught.

Next was Lam who led us to the girl’s cabin. Ingrid was lying on her bunk and Lam helped her to her feet. She was bound from shoulders to toes with the most intricate web of rope you could imagine. Lam explained that the knot work was called Shibari and had been taught to him by his father. He had brought his own rope, a honey colored rough looking cord, called Japanese hemp which he said was the traditional choice of his culture.

rope.jpg

Then we noticed her gag. An elaborate ball of rope had been woven from the hemp and shoved into her mouth. ‘It’s called a monkeys fist’ said Lam with a smile of pride at his skillful craftmanship. Then it was my turn.

fist.png

We had untied each girl after examining the TUG so I led ten fellow campers and three counsellors down the path to the boathouse. Thankfully we were all able to squeeze in without too much crowding.

At one end of the boathouse is a bench for repairing the canoes and sailboats. It consists of a rectangular metal frame and a heavy canvas top that hangs from the frame like a hammock to cradle the boats. Instead of a boat the table cradled Cassandra.

The table had one-inch wide black nylon straps at all four corners to hold the boats in place. Six additional straps were attached along the sides. I had Cassandra stretched out in a spread-eagle tie with straps tied around her wrists and ankles. I also fastened straps across her chest, her hips and at her knees.

Letting her lie down like this took the pressure off of her shaky legs and she was quite comfortable. There was only one thing that bothered her a little. I had replaced her rubber ball gag with a home made one of my own invention. I had taken a fishing bobber and ran a length of mooring rope through it. She wasn’t a fan of the hard-plastic ball.

rope (1).jpg

She surprised us all when she struggled against her bonds. It was more of a demonstration of how well I had tied her than a serious attempt to escape. She even managed to twist her feet around a little.

I felt good that I had given her a chance to be a damsel in distress just like the other girls.

Even though Lam’s tie up was superior to mine I was chosen as the winner. I knew that in reality it was Cassandra who was being recognized for being such a good sport in spite of her having a valid excuse not to participate.

Our prize was only a symbolic one, we were excused from washing dishes after supper that evening.

Once the judging was done, I quickly removed the objectionable gag and then began to untie her. As I leaned over to untie one of the wrist straps she whispered to me ‘I hope you still have the handcuffs.’

It sounded like there was going to be more fun to the evening than just making s’mores.

[LordNelson]

I wrote this for the summer story contest but missed the deadline. I thought I would post it anyways.

[Solarbeast]

This was a great story and would have been high up on the list in the contest.