Vicious Cycle (M/M) - *COMPLETE*

[Straitjacketed]

This one is a collaboration, conceptualised as an escape challenge role-play between myself and another TUG member, reformatted slightly and published here with his permission. My character's narration is in default font, his is in blue.

Vicious Cycle - part 1

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention])


It all started with an escape challenge.

Let me explain for those who don’t know me. My name is Stuart but I answer to SJ or Stu or, if I’m feeling particularly cocky, STUDINI. Like Houdini, right?

Hey, it worked. People got it.

I’m an amateur escape artist. I learned the basic skills by reading the writings of my almost-namesake and the other classic performers: I've got a decent physique and I can expand my muscles while being tied to help me wriggle free of ropes later; I can use hidden lock-picks to open simple padlocks and I can get out of my own straitjacket (let’s not get into whether or not it’s “regulation issue”) and other pre-agreed restraint jackets – if the person putting me in it is a newbie who doesn't know what they're doing.

I achieved a small amount of Internet-fame, gaining a small but devoted following by making public challenges, filming them and posting the results on social media to gain more followers. I did reasonable, winning all my challenges - mainly because I agreed general terms beforehand (if not every single detail) and deliberately choose challengers who seemed inexperienced. My fanbase is starting to grow.

I grew more confident, eventually claiming I could escape anything. And that's when I came to meet YOU, my newest challenger.

Fast forward to the here and now. Present tense (very tense…)

---

I allow you to choose the time and place of the challenge and it's only as the date gets nearer that I realise you were pretty vague, in your messages about the kind of restraint you’re going to use. I try to Google you but the contact details you've given me don’t turn anything helpful up.

Should I have vetted you a little more? Nah, I’m sure it’s fine. Most challengers are hopelessly naïve when it comes to tying someone up; I’m sure you’ll be no different. Probably just a load of rope that looks dramatic but is too thick to hold knots. Basic.

We haven’t specified what you want me to wear for the challenge but most people opt for “underwear” so I decide to wear a one-piece garment I bought to emulate the bathing suits Houdini used to wear when he did underwater escapes. Mine is in lightweight neoprene and I altered it to add a little internal pocket on the inside of the lower edge. The pocket can't be detected unless the suit is examined really closely but is just large enough to hold a tiny folding blade within reach of my right hand.

The lock pick is a thinner strip of metal, like a straightened, flattened paper clip. I use a small piece of skin-coloured wax to fix it in a curve behind my right ear. Later, if I need to, I can dislodge it.

The day of our meeting dawns and I decide to travel there on my motorcycle. I zip my good set of black bike leathers up over the neoprene bathing suit, don gloves and boots and finally my helmet before grabbing my 'phone and fold-up tripod and setting off for the address you've given.

I arrive at what looks like the garage entrance of a sizeable, detached house.

I’m feeling confident and optimistic. Let's see what this mug has to offer!

The mysterious challenger answers the door and helps you wheel your bike inside.

“Well well well. If it isn’t the supposedly ‘great’ Studini. Your reputation precedes you. Please, wipe your feet before you enter. And remove your boots, if you would.”

"Hahah yes, and you're the mysterious... what was your name again?"

I keep it light and jokey but all the while we're introducing ourselves (and I'm climbing out of my motorcycle boots, putting them neatly to one side) and setting up my camera for filming, I'm trying to get a handle on you.

"Socks too?"

I glance around the garage interior, doing my Escape Artist Checklist in my head:

1. Any worryingly specialist-looking items of restraint? No-one so far has brought stocks or a pillory to a challenge, thank fuck.

2. Any form of restraint visible? Rope, chain, tape? Something else?

3. Anything I can be restrained to? I know from experience that being tied to something is harder, escape-wise, than being free to wriggle around, loosening my bonds.

4. Anything I can be wrapped or bundled up in? Extra layers are an even bigger problem, especially if they're tough enough to prevent me getting at the knots or fastenings.

5. Anything else likely to hood, muffle or stop me using (in descending order of usefulness) the tools of my trade: fingers, teeth, toes, eyes, hearing? Most challengers don't think of these but something as simple as a pair of gloves can reduce my dexterity and screw with my chances of escaping.

I sheepishly rub the back of my head, chuckling. I’m a bigger guy, hefty in frame – lumberjack build with a big ol’ belly – but my mannerisms seem to betray a soft friendliness.

“Yeah, socks too. The name’s Steven. Nice to meetcha! I gotta say, your videos are a lotta fun. I feel honored you’d come over and let me try my hand at binding ya!”

There are tarpaulin-covered shapes in the corners – and now your motorcycle – but all that’s visible in the centre of the room is a roll of duct tape and a box with something shiny and black draped over it.

“So! You ready to get started?”

I relax. You’re a big burly guy but I’m reassured by your friendly, casual vibe and also the generally non-threatening nature of the space.

The only restraint I can see is tape - just the one roll - and I know from experience most people who choose tape for escape challenges just wrap it around my wrists (usually in front) where I can easily peel it off. Or break it: one thickness isn't very strong.

Yeah, I have a good feeling about this. Should be a quick one.

Socks off, I put them plus my helmet and gloves to one side and stand barefoot in my leathers. I partly unzip my jacket, expecting you to want me stripped down to my underwear of choice, the neoprene bathing suit with my concealed blade.

"This doesn't look too bad," I smile, trying to peer into the box, "so I guess now's the time for me to tell you to DO YOUR WORST!”

Cheesy, but my audience love it.

To be continued...

[Canuck100]

Very nice intro!

[blackbound]

Vicious cycle.... hmmm. HMMM.

[Guardianbound]

Interesting. Love how you've adapted this from a RP. Can't wait to find out how one roll of duct tape spirals into inescapable bondage!

[harveygasson]

Intriguing start

[BDBrit]

Great start so far. I love stories where the volunteer to be tied doesn't expect what's coming next.

[gag1195]

Stu's confidence is going to be the end of him, methinks! wondering what deceptive ways Steven plans to tie up the wannabe escape artist!

[Straitjacketed]

[mention]Canuck100[/mention]:

Very nice intro!

Thanks, man! I find role-play much easier than story-writing so really enjoy this sort of collaborative approach.

[mention]blackbound[/mention]:

Vicious cycle.... hmmm. HMMM.

[mention]Guardianbound[/mention]:

Interesting. Love how you've adapted this from a RP. Can't wait to find out how one roll of duct tape spirals into inescapable bondage!

The nice thing about this being a role-play adaptation is that I had exactly that same feeling at the time of writing: how is one roll of duct tape, a box and something black and shiny going to become an escape challenge?

[mention]harveygasson[/mention]:

Intriguing start

Cheers! I was equally intrigued by my co-writer's set-up.

[mention]BDBrit[/mention]:

Great start so far. I love stories where the volunteer to be tied doesn't expect what's coming next.

Thank you! It's certainly a favourite scenario of mine.

[mention]gag1195[/mention]:

Stu's confidence is going to be the end of him, methinks! wondering what deceptive ways Steven plans to tie up the wannabe escape artist!

Heheh, I do like playing overconfident characters...

[Straitjacketed]

Vicious Cycle - part 2

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention]: my character's narration is in black, his is in blue.)


I smirk and put myself between you and the box.

“Ah ah ah, no peeking! Can’t spoil the surprise. You may be the Houdini here, but with the tricks I have up my sleeve, I’m a bit of a magician myself. And a magician never reveals his secrets.”

I laugh at the escape artist bravado.

“My WORST? All right…just remember you asked for it!”

I unfurl a shiny, black one-piece latex suit and begin to rub lubricant into the interior of the suit. Once I’m satisfied that there’s enough lube in the suit, I hold it open for you to slide your feet into once you’re finished stripping down.

I chuckle when you claim to be a magician but, inwardly, I hope you're not being serious: I try to avoid challengers who might be familiar with Houdini and his not-very-secret secrets...

A latex suit. Okay, this is... unexpected.

"No problem," I say, already worrying about losing my hidden blade (either I'm going to have to put it to one side or it’s going to be inaccessible under the layer of rubber), "you want me to, uh, lose the bathing suit?”

I shrug.

“Lose it, keep it, shouldn’t matter either way. Just make yourself comfortable—you’ll be wearing it for a loooong while!”

Heh. The standard banter of challenge.

If it's covered up by that latex suit, I have no chance of getting at my knife so I decide to abandon modesty and remove the neoprene singlet altogether. I glance wistfully at where I know the secret pocket to be, as I lay the garment aside with my leathers. I'm careful to leave it within arm's length: maybe you'll look the other way at some point, and I'll have a chance to retrieve it.

"Heh, this is kinda... tight," I say to cover the momentary embarrassment of nakedness as I pull the rubber up over my legs and waist, "I might need a hand with the sleeves."

How does this suit fasten? Are there attached gloves, feet or hood (I’m hoping not)?

“Don’t wanna make it TOO easy for ya, y’know? Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

The latex squeezes your body tightly as your feet slide into molded socks at the ends of the legs. The legs of the suit compress your lower body. I slowly roll the tight sleeves up your arms, your hands entering gloves attached at the end. Surprisingly, you’ll find that the gloves have incredibly thick rubber inside of them, making it hard to move your fingers freely from a slight bent position.

Finally, I roll the rubber up and over your neck. You hear a ziiiiiip noise, and feel the suit being zipped up the back. From the neck down, you are coated in shiny black latex.

“Feeling cozy in there?” I ask while I walk behind you to retrieve the box, giving you a moment to get accustomed to your new outfit.

"Ahh heh!" I say with a laugh that sounds a little forced, "is this some kind of wetsuit? It certainly is... cozy."

I hold a gloved hand up and peer at it, trying to flex my fingers. I'm hoping I can bend them at least a little. If not, then I'm going to have to get the suit off to use my hands - or my feet - properly. I grope at the back of my neck, trying to feel through the latex, familiarising myself with the zip fastening (it shouldn't be too hard to unzip, should it?)

Mentally, I'm considering the possibility that I might have to break or tear this rubber. I wonder if that's possible (it seems pretty thick). I don't like to destroy challenge items but... if I had to, maybe I could cut it? I glance longingly at my Houdini singlet just sitting there with my concealed knife.

While you're retrieving the box, I make a show of folding my clothes and ease the blade out of its secret pocket so it's sitting amid the folds of neoprene. I consider trying to palm it and hide it somewhere on my person but, in this seamless suit of glistening, form-fitting black, there's literally no place I can conceal it.

The moment passes and you're back.

“Yeah, it’s kinda like a wetsuit! Insular rubber, not unlike that bathing suit you brought… oh yeah, you’re a diver, right? Must feel pretty familiar. Maybe next time you can do a classic underwater escape like the real Houdini, eh?”

I speak while my back is turned to you. When I turn around, I catch you fiddling with your clothes and my face lights up.

“Oh hey, you read my mind! I was just thinking about how much that suit looks like those sleek black biker leathers you brought. Why don’t you put the jacket on? Gotta look badass if you wanna escape, right?”

Fuck.

"Oh, uhh, the jacket's fastened to the trousers - like they combine into a one-piece? It's gonna be a pain to unzip them.”

“Oh, neat! Don’t worry, I’m handy with zippers. I’ll help you put it on!”

With a cheerful smile, I pick up the jacket-trouser one-piece suit and examine it, discretely inspecting it for any hidden pockets or concealed blades as I fiddle with the zipper.

“There, I… think I… er, wait… ah, there we go! Boy, you’re right, this thing IS complicated. I’m amazed you’re able to escape this suit alone!”

I chuckle again as I begin helping you into your own clothes.

Fucking fuck.

I can't think of a reason to refuse and I'm mindful of my camera catching all of this so I smile as you help me back into my bike gear (are you putting me into the whole suit - jacket and trousers, zipped together - or did you unzip them and just make me wear the jacket?)

"Hahah, well, you may jest but this is a first: no other challenger has had me go back into my bike gear!"

You joke about the difficulty of me escaping my motorbike suit but, standing rather self-consciously as you help zip, snap, buckle and strap me back into it (over the layer of rubber), I'm suddenly aware that it is a pretty damn complicated garment - and, off the bike, weirdly constraining.

It was a recent present to myself when the old suit got too tatty for regular riding; I went for thicker, heavier hide this time - the kind that takes forever to wear in properly - and it's still a little stiff and restrictive of movement.

I made a bit of a big deal about zipping it all together being a pain but, actually, that was just an excuse: it's a simple zip at waist level, connecting jacket to trousers.

"This is badass all right!" I exclaim as you fiddle with zippers and press studs.

Actually, I feel kind of stupid, in full horsehide but with my feet and hands shiny latex. I realise also that my escape is now more complex: if I need to get out of the rubber suit to use my fingers (I'm hopeful that, with a little more effort, I can still use them through the gloving), I'm going to have to unzip and unstrap myself from my motorcycle leathers. Dammit, that's going to take time.

I remember that Houdini was rumoured to escape from some rope ties by slipping a shoe off and working knots loose with his toes. Nice trick if you can do it, I guess, and not something I'd ever rely on but hell, with my toes stuck inside latex socks, I don't even have the option. How thick, I wonder, is the rubber around my feet?

Let's focus on the positives. The neoprene singlet is still in a neat pile to one side (with my leather gloves, boots, socks and helmet) so at least I know where my knife is.

“Heh! Lookin’ quite spiffy indeed!”

I walk in a slow circle around you, admiring your outfit from all angles… and of course, also on the lookout for any tricks that might be, literally, up your sleeves. Spotting nothing, I pick up the roll of duct tape.

“Now then. As much as I’ve enjoyed our banter, I’m afraid I prefer to work in peace and quiet. Do you have any last words for your audience before I shut your trap for you?”

I gesture towards your camera set-up.

To be continued...

[DeeperThanRed]

Oh, Stu is way in over his head!

Steven's plan to halt his attempts to escape before they even start just by the choice of outfit is devious and I think I may have an idea about how he plans to tie the overly-confident escape artist.

Kudos to both writers, this is shaping up to be a really interesting escape challenge story.

[Straitjacketed]

Oh, Stu is way in over his head!

Yep.

Steven's plan to halt his attempts to escape before they even start just by the choice of outfit is devious and I think I may have an idea about how he plans to tie the overly-confident escape artist.

It'll be interesting to see whether your predictions are borne out. For me, this one was very twisty!

Kudos to both writers, this is shaping up to be a really interesting escape challenge story.

Aww, cheers! I'm really curious to hear your opinion as the story unfolds because, as you know, we used the same starting point in our own role-play and our collaboration went in a very different direction...

[gag1195]

Oh wow! Immediately with the hard stuff! I fully expected Steven to ease Stu into things, lull him into a false sense of security with ropes or cuffs, make Stu comfortable, then spring on the intense stuff! Not that I'm complaining! Poor Stu, though!

[blackbound]

My suspicion is that the motorcycle will be involved somehow, but I'm not sure how.

[Straitjacketed]

[mention]gag1195[/mention]:

Oh wow! Immediately with the hard stuff! I fully expected Steven to ease Stu into things, lull him into a false sense of security with ropes or cuffs, make Stu comfortable, then spring on the intense stuff! Not that I'm complaining! Poor Stu, though!

Yeah, this one escalates quickly.

[mention]blackbound[/mention]:

My suspicion is that the motorcycle will be involved somehow, but I'm not sure how.

My lips are sealed. With tape.

[Straitjacketed]

Vicious Cycle - part 3

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention]: my character's narration is in black, his is in blue.)


The various zippered pockets are all empty, except for my wallet, which I extract (clumsily - the thicker latex around my fingers definitely makes it harder manipulating stuff) and put aside with everything else. I consider trying to palm the knife that I know is also sitting in that little pile but you're watching me like a hawk so now is not the time.

"Oh," I say, surprised by the appearance of duct tape so soon, "that's for a gag?"

It's pretty unusual for challengers to think of incapacitating my mouth and teeth. I make an exaggerated comedy shrug at the camera.

"I guess you folks at home get a break from my yapping! Hopefully just a short break."

I eye the tape slightly warily. Let's hope you're going for the classic single strip across the lips that'll detach itself with a few minutes' sweating…

I rip the end of the tape off the roll and stretch it a bit, relishing the sound—it’s music to my ears. I stick the end to your left cheek and unexpectedly wind it AWAY from your mouth, instead going around the back of your head. While one hand is doing this, my other hand stealthily reaches for my pocket…

“Yeah, hopefully… And hopefully YOU remembered to do your laundry!”

While you’re distracted staring at the hand holding the tape, my other hand is suddenly pressing something against your mouth! Before you even have time to process what’s happening, the intruding object is stuffed in your mouth, and I’m looping the tape over your lips to keep it trapped inside! Keeping up the speed, I wind it around and around several times over, using most of the roll. In minutes, not only is the entire lower half your face is coated in what looks like an entire half-inch of silver duct tape, but I’ve extended the taping upwards over the top of your head, spooling under your chin and up again. I add anchoring strips to cover the whole of your scalp, your brow, the bridge of your nose… I even cut a narrower strip to go vertically between your eyes.

By the time I’m done, you’re looking out through eyeholes in a mass of silver plastic.

I turn to the camera.

“Since you can’t give your own commentary anymore, looks like I’ll be taking over as narrator. For those of you watching at home, if you blinked and missed it, I just manage to gag Studini here with his OWN socks! I swiped them earlier when he wasn’t looking. They seemed like pretty thick socks too… look at how his cheeks are puffed out, even with all that tape pushing in on them. Guess he took the phrase ‘put a sock in it’ a bit too literally, huh?”

I chuckle and give you a hard slap on the back.

“So. How do you like the taste of… de-FEET?”

"Yeah, hopefully... And hopefully YOU remembered to do your laundry!"

The tape going off in the "wrong" direction has surprised me and, looking in entirely that direction, I open my mouth to make a jokey response.

"Well, I... hnngh!"

I can't believe I fell for such an obvious misdirection! Suddenly, my mouth and cheeks are packed with fabric and, with lightning speed, you've taped one, two rounds around my head - and you're continuing in all directions!

"Hhnnghh!" I grunt. Instinctively, I raise my rubbered hands to stop you but you bat them away gently and I remind myself I agreed to a gag. As the tape loops around and around and over and under with a speed that's almost dizzying, I can only mumble and try to settle the socks more comfortably in my mouth. Damn right they're "pretty thick" - they're woollen boot socks, designed to keep my feet warm when biking - and this is not their first day of use. I curse myself for not changing them for new this morning: they're almost as cheesy as your commentary.

"So. How do you like the taste of... de-FEET?"

I roll my eyes theatrically - this banter could get old fast - but I'm busy evaluating the gag itself, touching it with my rubber-gloved fingers, trying to get a sense of whether any parts of my head haven’t been covered in silver plastic. I haven't been gagged very much but I do recall another time a challenger used a load of tape but only at mouth level: it wasn't easy but, eventually, through a lot of sweat-generating struggle, I managed to unstick the adhesive from my top lip and, with effort, work the whole thing downwards by moving my jaw and tongue.

No chance of that here; you've been much more thorough. And my tongue's trapped on the floor of my mouth beneath balled-up wool.

I pat your taped cheeks a couple times, chuckling.

“Yup, that wad of sock is locked in tight, all right… and it’s a good thing you can’t complain anymore, cuz I know you’re gonna HATE this next piece of gear I have for you…

Finally, I open the mysterious box and pull out… a latex hood. It appears to be made of the same rubbery material as the suit you have on. It has a zipper on the back.

Before I lower it over your head, I push something deep into your ears, deadening a lot of sound. Then, turning the hood inside out, I align the attached breathing tubes with your nostrils before plastering the hood over your face and head. You’re suddenly thrust into darkness, as there don’t appear to be any eyeholes in the hood.

I pay your muffled protests no mind as I zip the back of the mask, cinching it so tightly against your face that it forces you to bite down on your socks. I tuck the edges of the hood underneath your rubber suit, working around the collar of your leather jacket. You hadn’t noticed before, but the collar of the rubber suit had four attached loops, which line up with four similar loops on the hood. Producing a few small metal padlocks from the box, I lock the loops together, firmly attaching the hood to the suit. For good measure, I place a fifth padlock through the zipper-tags of the suit and the hood, locking them together.

Suddenly, you hear a hiss, then a pop, then a crackle of static… there’s a visor in front of your eyes, feeding in a blurry, monochrome view of the room around you, including my smug grinning face. I speak, and you hear my voice in your ears, slightly crackly as though you’re listening to me through a walkie talkie.

“Mic check, one two three… everything online in there?”

"... and it's a good thing you can't complain anymore, cuz I know you're gonna HATE this next piece of gear I have for you..."

Still adjusting to the bolus of musky wool stuffing my mouth and cheeks, I don't fully register what you're doing until you're pushing some kind of plugs into my ears and plastering my face with... a diving hood?

What the... ?! I mmphh in surprise but you clearly know what you're doing and, in seconds, my head is swathed in rubber so thick and heavy it clamps my jaw shut and you're having to exert considerable strength to close the zipper. Fuck, this is going to make shifting the tape downwards and spitting out the socks impossible.

You fit tubes into my nostrils and, after an initial few seconds of panic, I realise I can breathe with relative ease. I practise inhaling and exhaling, try working my jaw against the rubber (there's little or no give - this shit is a tight fit) and wait for the eye-holes to align so I can at least see what you're doing. They don't align and you're already tucking the neck of the hood in like with a proper cold-water diving drysuit (that's presumably why you didn't fully zip up my leather jacket).

"Hnngh nngghes?" I try to ask, gesturing at the front of the mask. The eye-holes are wonky! You need to sort them!

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

Were those padlocks? I reach up, reflexively, to check. Damn, it's going to be hard to use my lock-pick with these gloves on. Well, at least I still have that option: you didn't find it hidden away behind my ear...

... oh.

Oh fuck.

There's sudden audio and video, or at least vision. I realise the front of this rubber hood thing is a flat visor of some sort feeding me a grainy view of the room - and your grinning face. I realise the room must be set up for VR with my hood incorporating a headset.

"Mic check, one two three... everything online in there?"

Dazed - and very much having to resist the urge to rip this whole apparatus off my head - I nod.

To be continued...

[Straitjacketed]

I've added a little poll to see how people rate Stu's chances of winning this escape challenge. Please scroll up and give your answer!

[Red86]

Stu may have a few tricks up his sleeve but currently it would seem Steven has the upper hand here. It's already a little challenging and stu isn't even tied up. Add in bonds, it'll be really challenging, if not impossible.

Subject to change, I voted for Steven will triumph.

[Straitjacketed]

Vicious Cycle - part 4

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention]: my character's narration is in black, his is in blue.)


“For those of you watching at home, I’ve incorporated a couple technological modifications to this hood I’ve just applied. There’s a VR headset linked to a camera feed, as well as a couple earbuds so he can hear me when I talk into my headset.”

In your brief period of blindness, I’ve put on a light headset with a microphone.

“Ready for the next pieces of gear?“

Wasn’t it only minutes ago I was reassured by how friendly you seemed? I’m belatedly revising that first impression.

In little more than ten minutes, I realise, you’ve managed to insulate every single part of me behind a layer of rubber: only the inside of my nostrils even has contact with the outside air. I’m used to being trapped in small spaces but even being tied up in a canvas mail bag didn’t make me half as claustrophobic as this damn suit-and-mask combo.

“Hhhngghh hhnn h hhihnnggg hhnuu!” I try to articulate (“this isn’t a diving suit!”) but even through my own ears (or rather via the bones of my skull), my accusatory mumbling sounds distant and incomprehensible.

While you're doing whatever you're doing, I reach up with both hands to explore the hood which, with its integral VR visor and general thickness, seems more like some sort of custom-made helmet. As I move, I feel rather than hear the heavy horsehide of my jacket creaking and the stiffened gloving around my fingers muffles touch and dexterity.

Fuck. I might end up having to tear or cut my way out of this mess. Reminded of the knife, I peer around me within the grainy visual of the visor, surreptitiously moving my hand nearer the pile of clothing where I know the blade is sitting. Maybe now's my time to try to grab it and... I dunno, stow it in one of the zipper pockets of my jacket?

That's going to be a tougher job now with these bloody rubberised sausage-fingers and with my peripheral vision limited by the camera feed. Can I do it? I wait for a moment when I think you're occupied with something else then give it a try.

I am indeed occupied, rummaging through my box of tricks and surprises. Indeed, my initial friendliness seems to be morphing into smug cockiness more and more with each new piece of gear I add.

While I search the box, without even looking over at you, I say:

“Looking for this?”

With one hand I brandish a blade—YOUR blade.

“I found it earlier while I was fiddling with your hood. A concealed pocket… cute trick! Sorry to break the illusion of your masterful escapes to your audience. Do you want it back?”

I dangle the blade in front of the small camera built into your hood.

"Hhhhhhnnnnhhhhhhh..."

It's about one quarter groan, three quarters sighing exhalation through my rubber-tubed nostrils as I watch my main hope of escape literally dangled before my eyes in your smug fucking fingers.

"BUT HOUDINI ALWAYS CARRIED A HIDDEN BLADE!" I want to cry, "IT'S NOT CHEATING!"

I know how it looks to an audience, though, and much as I want to nod or even grab for the knife, part of me is already considering claiming, after the event, that it wasn't mine, that it was a joke or prank on your part - just to claw back some credibility.

I mime a quizzical "I don't know what that is" gesture and pretend I was simply fumbling around for...

... for my boots or my leather riding gloves. To, er, put on?

I snicker, my chuckling sounding less friendly now and more biting.

“Tell ya what, if you feel like you need it, I’ll leave it here for you.”

I slide the blade into your jacket pocket, and button it up.

“Now where was I… oh, right! The next piece of gear!”

Out of the box I pull… a posture collar! I place it around your neck, fitting it neatly over the border between the hood and the suit. I pull it tight, forcing you to look forward as I click the collar into a locked position.

“How’s that feel? Comfortable? Just nod or shake your head… oh, right. You can’t!”

I laugh.

“We’ll have to go by grunts, then. One for yes, two for no. Understand?”

I'd picked up a tall motorcycle boot and was pretending to try to put it on over my rubber-socked foot but when you put the knife into my pocket - the small press-stud fastening one a few inches above the waistline of my jacket, just left of centre - I straighten up and let the boot fall to the floor.

Obviously, you're doing it to wind me up but you may have accidentally offered me a lifeline! I can potentially can reach that blade, even with clumsier-than-usual fingers; it's right there in front of me and I can surely nudge that pocket-flap open, slide it out and manoeuvre it into my grip... and then I have a means of cutting my way out of some of this stifling, muffling rubber. Not the most elegant means of escape but it'd still count!

Yeah, in your teasing, you have inadvertently given me a ray of hope!

"Now where was I... oh, right! The next piece of gear!"

I grumble inaudibly into my own balled-up socks as you thread the collar in place, covering the tiny padlocks connecting hood to suit. Now, even to reach those (or find an edge to start cutting through the latex), I'm going to have to get this fucking thing off my neck.

I paw at the hood and the collar, trying to work it all out. How does it fasten? Where's the buckle? Did you lock it in some way? Did you zip my jacket up over it?

My head movements are now pretty much immobilised. I can now nod or shake only by moving my whole torso - and even that's harder than it should be in my stiff bike leathers.

"We'll have to go by grunts, then. One for yes, two for no. Understand?"

Your cheerily mocking banter is really starting to irritate me and it's getting difficult not showing that in my body language.

I give a single half-grunt, half-snort. YES I FUCKING UNDERSTAND.

To be continued...

[blackbound]

Perfect setup for the old "double yes" gag!

[gag1195]

Steve is continuing to show no mercy! Poor Stu!

Which is why I had to vote for the third option- the potential for something unfortunate happening and leading to Steven joining Stu in bondage is just too good to pass up!

[DeeperThanRed]

I hope Steven meets with something unexpected but he seems to be in the control of everhthing.

Stu may be overrating how useful that knife is to him now. Since his captor knows its place, he can just tie our escape artist in a way that reaching it won't be an option.

[Straitjacketed]

Vicious Cycle - part 5

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention]: my character's narration is in black, his is in blue.)


“Well hey now, there’s no need to get huffy with me! Though I guess huffing is all you can really do now, huh?”

I teasingly pinch my captive’s nose.

“Getting frustrated already? But we’re barely even halfway done! Would Houdini have been frazzled by a couple tiny locks and a thin layer of rubber? I don’t think so! But of course, if it gets to be too much for you, you can just say the word and admit that I’ve won.”

I smirk at you.

“But if you’re up for a challenge…I’ve got your next piece of gear for you. Hold out your hands for me.”

Dammit, I can't admit defeat. And if I could, how exactly would I “say the word”?

That knife in the front pocket of my jacket is giving me hope. I'm thinking also about how I'm going to edit and frame this video later, assuming I can get myself loose. I'm going to go for "this challenger went ridiculously over-the-top BUT I STILL ESCAPED".

I reach up to bat you away from my nose - those nostril tubes are my only connection with the world - but hold out my hands as instructed, watching in distracted fascination as they appear on the VR feed.

There's a tiny amount of that duct tape left: let's hope the suit/hood is your trump card and you're just going to slap the remainder of the tape around my wrists and be done with it.

God yeah, maybe your box is finally empty!

“All right! Not gonna give up then, tough guy? Well, you already look pretty badass in those leathers, but this next addition will make you look as tough as you act! Here, hold this for me, would ya?”

I place my circular roll of tape to one side so I have both my hands free to pull out of my box of tricks… a pair of what appear to be big, puffy, almost cartoonishly oversized boxing gloves. I look at your camera, which I presume is feeding live to your audience.

“This episode of the great Studini’s escapades is brought to you by Everlast! These gloves feature Everlast Powerlock technology, an ergonomic layered foam construction that guides your hand into a natural fist position. Of course, I made some modifications to ensure that these gloves won’t slip off even in the toughest of fights.”

As I talk, I guide your already rubber-encased hands into the hefty mitts. The shape of them forces you to curl your hands into a fist. The first modification becomes immediately clear as I YANK at a strap at the wrist, tightening it to a savage degree well beyond what any actual boxer would find comfortable. I fasten a buckle and tug it a couple times to ensure that its secure before I give the same treatment to your other hand.

The second modification is a little more subtle… your fists are not COMPLETELY closed. Instead, your hands are curled around a hollow metal tube inside the mitts. The purpose for this is not immediately clear.

When I finish, I clap my hands together and step back to admire my handiwork.

“Heh, pretty fitting you’re wearing those boxing gloves, since I’m pretty sure you REALLY wanna punch me right about now!”

When you approach me with the tape, I'm cautiously optimistic. When that turns out to be a bait-and-switch for a pair of oversized boxing gloves, my hopes for an easy snap-the-tape-get-the-knife-cut-off-the-suit are dashed.

“This episode of the great Studini’s escapades is brought to you by Everlast! These gloves feature Everlast Powerlock technology, an ergonomic layered foam construction that guides your hand into a natural fist position."

Hmm. It might not be that bad. I've boxed before and I remember the time my sparring partner laced my gloves on and then, as a prank, refused to untie them. I was wearing gum-shields and a head-guard so couldn't use my teeth on the knots. Eventually, I managed, by clamping one glove between my thighs and pulling with all my might, to get the damn thing off.

Maybe this'll be that simple?

"Of course, I made some modifications to ensure that these gloves won’t slip off even in the toughest of fights.”

Or not. Fuck.

My fingers are already in a stiffened semi-flex but these ridiculously huge mitts of burnished black leather force them into more of a fist - but curled around some sort of bar or tube. That's weird, having something hard next to the fingers kind of defeats the purpose of hand protection. What kind of gloves are these?

I'm considering whether the internal tube will cause me any problems wrenching these fuckers off my hands when you start fastening the straps tight! Jesus! The underlying layer of rubber and the cuffs of my leather jacket protect my circulation but these are going to be a bastard to get off. Damn, am I gonna have to work those buckles loose?

"Heh, pretty fitting you’re wearing those boxing gloves, since I’m pretty sure you REALLY wanna punch me right about now."

You're a good bit bigger than me but yeah, I absolutely would take a swing at your stupid grinning face. This is getting more and more ridiculous by the minute - and the pits of it is, I already told you on-camera to do your worst.

FUCK MY LIFE

“Hm, the silent treatment, eh? Are you fuming in there? Are the wheels turning in your head as you’re finally realizing just how FUCKED you are? It’s a shame I can’t see your eyes… I bet you’re glaring DAGGERS at me. Metaphorical daggers, of course. No real daggers around here to cut you out of all this gear!”

I casually pat your shoulder, like you’re an old friend I’ve known for years. I laugh loudly. I begin taking another item out of the box: a heavy and complex harness, a mess of straps and D-rings that would be hard to make sense of even if you had access to your binocular color-vision. I begin pulling straps tight across your shoulders, chest, stomach, and legs, continuing to ramble all the while:

“Like WOW man… I’ve seen lots of videos of guys tied up and trapped… but you are REALLY stuck. Like, “put your picture in the dictionary next to the word stuck,” capital S-T-U-C-K stuck. Stuck like chuck and out of luck. Stuck as FUCK. Hehehe. It’s a fun word to say out loud, isn’t it? Stuck. Stuck stuck stuck. Try it!”

I wait a beat.

“Oh, right. Forgot you’re stuck sucking on socks. Guess it’s rude to talk with your mouth full! And boy howdy, is it ever full. Your cheeks look as stuffed as a chipmunk’s!”

“Hm, the silent treatment, eh? Are you fuming in there? Are the wheels turning in your head as you’re finally realizing just how FUCKED you are? It’s a shame I can’t see your eyes…I bet you’re glaring DAGGERS at me. Metaphorical daggers, of course. No real daggers around here to cut you out of all this gear!”

"Hhhnnggggghhh," I exhale into a mouthful of wet wool and half a mile of duct tape, the gagged equivalent of muttering under my breath.

You're right, though: your jibes have riled me and I realise I've automatically fallen into a defensive boxing stance that must look ridiculous onscreen, what with me in full bike leathers with these stupid great boxing mitts on the end of my hands. You fasten the front zip of my jacket right up to the neck (over the collar that keeps me looking forward) and I will my body language to relax, to look less bothered by your ribbing, to project more of the cool, in-control, modern-day Houdini vibe I like to think I give off in my videos.

I attempt a more nonchalant stance, holding one mitted hand up so I can examine the boxing glove with professional detachment, observing the way it fastens, whether the fastening is on the front or back of my wrist, how easy it's going to be to work the strap free of its buckle.

And then, what the fuck, you've pulled yet another unidentifiable horror out of your Bottomless Box of Nightmares and are laughing and chattering away as you buckle it all around my leather-jacketed torso, under my arms, over my shoulders... Christ, you're even strapping it under my leather-trousered crotch!

I've never seen anything like this harness thing (I remind myself I'm not properly seeing it now, through the blurry monochrome VR feed that seems to limit my peripheral vision) and wonder if it's some sort of rock-climbing safety kit... but in leather?

I'm having to brace my feet apart to avoid being jerked off balance as you move around me, using your superior strength and heft to tighten everything up.

I remember a Houdini trick described as similar to what a horse does when being saddled: expanding lungs and flexing muscles to make body mass as big as possible then, later, exhaling to create slack (experienced stable hands combat this by giving the horse a jab in the ribs). I try to use the technique but it's difficult given that you seem to be moving in and out of my vision, pulling each strap seemingly randomly, so I can't predict or pre-empt you.

Could I reach any of these buckles with my toes? The latex isn't too thick over my feet; maybe I can work at least some of the waist or crotch straps open that way?

All the while, you're distracting me with your mocking monologue. “Like WOW man… I’ve seen lots of videos of guys tied up and trapped… but you are REALLY stuck. Like, “put your picture in the dictionary next to the word stuck,” capital S-T-U-C-K stuck. Stuck like chuck and out of luck. Stuck as FUCK. Hehehe. It’s a fun word to say out loud, isn’t it? Stuck. Stuck stuck stuck. Try it!”

It's hard enough following all the buckling and strapping without you chuntering away in the background.

I refused to be riled and try to screen you out. Reflexively, however, I move a hand upwards to rid myself of the infuriating gag and stifling layer of latex - but I forget I'm wearing boxing gloves and inadvertently biff my masked face.

“... Your cheeks look as stuffed as a chipmunk’s!”

I figure the cheek-stuffing must be obvious even through the hood. It does feel intense and I try to work my jaw enough to make everything at least a little more comfortable but the big ball of socks exerts pressure from inside, tape and thick rubber from outside.

FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

I snort irritably through the nose-tubes and shake my head as if exasperation alone might be sufficient to dislodge all this stupid shit imprisoning me.

I chuckle when I see you bap your own face with your boxing glove.

“Woah, hey there, don’t knock yourself out just yet! I still have just a couple more surprises in store for you…”

I tap a button on a remote control I pull from my pocket. Suddenly, the visual feed in your visor cuts out, leaving you in total darkness.

“I don’t wanna spoil the surprise, so I’m blinding you for this next part! It’s only temporary, I promise… if and ONLY if you cooperate, okay? Lemme hear that grunt for yes.”

I would grind my teeth if my teeth weren't clamped together over a huge wad of damp wool.

I make a single grunt in as neutral a tone as I can manage.

To be continued...

[Straitjacketed]

Perfect setup for the old "double yes" gag!

Heh, believe or not, that's the first time I've encountered the 'double yes'. Will definitely make use of that in the future!

[gag1195]

boxing gloves, harnesses, what else does Steven have planned? And now poor Stu won't even see whatever it is until it's too late! This is already turning out to be an interesting video for Stu... and hopefully Steven joins him soon!

[Straitjacketed]

Vicious Cycle - part 6

(Co-written with [mention]5T3V3N[/mention]: my character's narration is in black, his is in blue.)


With you now blind, I wink at the camera and begin making some arrangements. At first, they don’t even involve you—I just let you stew in the darkness and wonder at the sounds around you.

I pull a blue tarp off of something unassuming in the corner of the room… it’s an exercise bike, with some apparent modifications, a couple of attached tubes and contraptions, and a couple of boots apparently pre-strapped and attached to the pedals. I roll it to the middle of the room before locking the wheels in place. I carefully wheel your motorbike over to the corner where the exercise bike had been and throw the tarp over it.

I loop a finger through a D-ring on the chest of your harness and tug, pulling you along like a warden escorting a hobbling prisoner.

“Careful, careful. Slow and steady. Remember, your cooperation over the next couple minutes is CRUCIAL if you want to earn enough trust and goodwill for me to give your vision back.”

Carefully guiding your steps so you don’t trip, I align you so that you’re standing with one leg on either side of the bike, as though about to take a seat. But before you do…

I unbuckle your jacket button and swipe your blade. Telling you to remain still so I don’t hurt you, I bend down, preparing to cut a hole in your pants… only to discover the zipper that’s already there.

“Huh! Thought I was gonna need to use your knife to get at your tight little ass, but it looks like you did the work for me already! A zipper in the rear of your trousers…”

I chuckle and spin you around, showing the zipper to the camera.

“Makes sense, I guess. If they’re attached to the jacket, it’d be inconvenient to take off the whole getup just to go to the bathroom… though I get the feeling you put that zipper there for more than just that, didn’t ya? Kinky bastard!”

I slap your rear, return the knife to your pocket, and resume my preparations. I unzip your trousers, exposing the layer of latex underneath. I feel up the rubber, groping around your rubber-encased butt until I find what I’m looking for: a zipper, apparently not connected to the main one running up and down your back. I unzip it, revealing your bare bottom. Apparently, the suit was designed with this type of exposure in mind.

“All right, I’m gonna have you sit down in a second. You’ll feel some discomfort, and definitely some surprise, but don’t jerk around too much or you’ll make it worse, okay? Ready? On three. One—“

Well before getting to three, I suddenly PUSH down on your shoulders, forcing you to sit on the bike seat. Only… the bike seat has been modified. To have a large dildo attached to it.

To be continued...