This story was posted in the old tugstories.tieupgames.net, another great site that unfortunately closed down too. Even though the author never finished it, I still think it was a great story so I'd like to share it! (kudos to the wayback machine for heliping recover the site's stories!)
Chapter 1
"So when I wear my bondage trousers, that means I'm tied up?" Simon asked, incredulously. He was referring to the tight red punk pants he liked to wear out at night.
"No, but when you're tied up you're in bondage," Jason replied.
"I've never been tied up," said Simon.
It was July of 1985 and we were walking along a quayside in Puerto Banus - Simon, Jason and me. British kids in Spain, we all wore shorts and flip-flops. I wore a T-shirt to protect my pale, freckly, Celtic skin from sunburn. Jason and Simon went shirtless. They had more natural melanin in their skin, and were nicely tanned. Simon was sleek and wiry, a natural swimmer, his brown hair lightened by the application of lemon juice. Jason, also 14, spent term time back at a sports-oriented boarding school in the U.K. He had a rugby player's physique - broad shoulders, flat stomach, tapered waist. His masculine body set off a face that was almost pretty - curly hair that was naturally blonde, deep brown eyes under long lashes, and a ready, dimpled smile that drove the girls - and not just the girls - wild.
The subject of bondage had come up when we had walked past a revue bar that specialised in raunchy cabaret. There were always pictures from the previous night's show posted on a board outside. They were often titillating and we always checked them out. On this fateful occasion, there was a photo of a well-muscled man in a leopardskin loincloth, his hands tied behind his back, being led on a leash by a woman dressed in ostrich feathers and a flowing cloak. We had gaped at the photo for several minutes. We may have been living in Spain, and in a glitzy resort like Banus, but none of us were exactly products of permissive Latin culture.
I was the oldest of the bunch, at 15, but Jason was the most wordly. He explained that there were certain people who liked to be tied up, or to tie people up, and that this was called "bondage". I received this information quietly. I already knew that I was one of these people, although I wasn't ready to let on! Simon, on the other hand, couldn't conceive of such a thing.
"They must be perverts," he insisted. Jason and I exchanged a glance. We had played a tie-up game together once, during a sleep over at his house. I had initiated it, but he had been a willing participant.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Total perverts!"
Jason laughed.
"What's so funny?" Simon asked.
Jason just shook his head. We walked past a restaurant where Simon worked some nights as a kitchen boy. A waiter whistled him over for a few words.
Jason and me walked on, slowly.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Jason said.
"If it involves Simon and a coil of rope, yes I think I am!"
"Let's tie him up," Jason insisted.
"Okay - when?"
"Today. Once we get out to sea."
We were going to take my dad's speedboat out for a spin on the Med. We did it most days in the summer - my dad let me keep the keys.
"Okay," I said. "When I give the signal, we jump him."
Jason shushed me - Simon was catching up with us again.
The thing about boats is - there's always plenty of rope on board. Once we got out of the Puerto Banus marina, we let Simon drive. He always wanted to drive, so he was happy. He liked to head straight out to sea, bow first into the waves, the choppier the better. It wasn't especially rough that day - it was a moderately bumpy ride. I went down into the small cabin and selected two pieces of white cotton rope that was usually used to attach fenders. Then Simon jerked the steering wheel left then right- we often did that when someone was in the cabin, to noise them up. I kept my balance but saw my chance!
I banged the underside of the deck and yelled as if I had hurt my head.
I heard Simon laugh. He jerked the wheel left and right again.
"Stop! Stop!" I shouted.
"Better stop", I heard Jason say.
Simon slowed the boat, then killed the engine. He popped his head through the cabin door.
"Now!" I shouted.
Jason pushed Simon from behind. I grabbed him and propelled him forward, until he was face-down on one of the two bunks in the cabin. I knelt, straddling Simon's backside. I pulled his hands behind him and held them together in the small of his back. Jason jumped on his legs.
"What are you doing, you pair of poofs?" Simon yelled.
"You said you'd never been tied up," I replied. "So we thought we'd give you a new experience."
"No, get off!" Simon said. He struggled a bit, but I thought it was kind of a token. My impression was that he was happy enough to play along.
I had dropped the ropes when I was wrangling Simon into position. Jason scooped them up, and started to tie Simon's bare feet together at the ankles with one of the pieces. When he was finished, Jason passed me the other piece. As I went to take it, Simon snatched his hands from behind his back and tightly clasped his shoulders.
"You're not getting out of this, Si," I said. "Come on - give me your hands."
"Never!" Simon declared.
"Okay," I sighed. "Jason - tickle his feet." Simon was very ticklish. He bucked and writhed as Jason's fingers assaulted his bare soles. But he couldn't shake both of us, espcially with his ankles roped together. Eventually, he had no option but to breathlessly concede:
"All right! All right! I'll do it. Just stop!"
"Okay," I said. "Put your hands behind your back, and cross your wrists."
Simon did as he was told. I applied several turns of rope, horizontally and vertically, and tied it off with a sailor's knot. Jason and I got up and backed off. Simon twitched a little, testing his bonds. Then he struggled into a sitting position on the edge of the bunk, his feet on the floor. His face was flush and his hair was tousled. He was still breathing heavily from the tickle-assault. The muscles of his stomach were tight, accentuated by the position of his arms behind him.
"So what now?" he asked.
"Well," said Jason. "I was thinking we might go into Marbella for a milkshake!"
TobyTickler : Rope Float (m+/m+)
Moderator: Archiver
Chapter 2:
Jason went on deck to take the wheel, and soon we were speeding towards Marbella, the waves at our back, at 60mph - which gives a greater sensation of speed across water than on land.
I lounged on the second bunk and looked across at Simon. He tugged a little bit at the ropes holding his wrists behind his back, before giving up. He looked down at his feet, roped together at the ankles, and sighed. His shoulders slumped, his posture suggesting defeat. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he perked up. He fixed his eyes on mine and leaned forward.
"Listen," he whispered urgently. "If you untie me, I'll help you tie up Jason!"
I considered this.
"Tempting offer," I said. "I'll take you up on it some other time. I like you the way you are right now."
Just now, Jason jerked the wheel left then right. I lurched with the motion. Simon, unable to use his hands to steady himself, fell sideways onto the bunk. Further acrobatics with the steering threatened to tip him on to the floor. I braced myself and extended my legs, until my bare feet were pressing against Simon's taut stomach, pinning him safely in place. It wasn't entirely an altruistic act - I made sure to wiggle my toes some, tickling his ribs. He struggled, and we both laughed. After a few minutes of this, Jason quit jerking the steering wheel and before long we were slowing right down to enter the port of Marbella.
I went on deck and we berthed the boat alongside the fuelling dock. As Jason tied off the last berthing line I said:
"What about Simon?"
Jason laughed.
"We'll bring him back a milkshake!"
"Okay, I said "but if we're going to leave him we need to make him a bit more secure."
"His hands are tied behind his back and his feet are tied together!" Jason replied "How much more secure does he need to be? You want to gag him, or something?"
"Nah," I said. "Wouldn't be safe. He's not going to want to draw attention to himself. Too embarrasing. But you'd be surprised how someone can move about, even tied up like he is."
Jason gave me a funny look, like he was wondering how I would know. I ignored it, and opened a storage hatch where we kept the water-skiing stuff. I took out the ski line - forty feet of strong nylon cord, with handles attached.
"This'll do nicely," I said.
We went down into the cabin. Simon was sweating - he had been struggling against his bonds. I checked his wrists and ankles - he had made no progress, they were still securely tied. I started to wrap the ski line around his legs.
"Come on, guys. Please don't leave me here like this. I want to come for a milkshake!"
"We'll bring you one back," Jason said.
"I want to go with you," Simon wheedled.
"Okay," I said. "You can come. But if you do, you'll be walking through Marbella on a leash, with your hands tied behind your back. Your choice, mate!"
Simon considered this.
"Make mine vanilla!" was his only repsonse.
I laughed and continued to tightly wrap his body in forty-feet of ski rope. I created little knotty nexuses at the knees and around the middle of his torso, but there was a turn of rope around virtually every inch of his body, from ankles to shoulders. Simon was completely immobilised.
"Okay," I said. "We'll be back in like twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. I recommend you lie there in the bunk and just relax. Don't try to move about - you might hurt yourself."
"Yeah, I feel very relaxed!" Simon said.
"Remember - your body is bound, but your mind is free!" I said. Then Jason and me left.
"Your body is bound, but your mind is free?" Jason repeated as we walked briskly towards the ice cream shop. "Where did you hear that?"
I shrugged
"Just made it up."
Jason considered.
"I like it," he said.
Jason went on deck to take the wheel, and soon we were speeding towards Marbella, the waves at our back, at 60mph - which gives a greater sensation of speed across water than on land.
I lounged on the second bunk and looked across at Simon. He tugged a little bit at the ropes holding his wrists behind his back, before giving up. He looked down at his feet, roped together at the ankles, and sighed. His shoulders slumped, his posture suggesting defeat. Then something seemed to occur to him, and he perked up. He fixed his eyes on mine and leaned forward.
"Listen," he whispered urgently. "If you untie me, I'll help you tie up Jason!"
I considered this.
"Tempting offer," I said. "I'll take you up on it some other time. I like you the way you are right now."
Just now, Jason jerked the wheel left then right. I lurched with the motion. Simon, unable to use his hands to steady himself, fell sideways onto the bunk. Further acrobatics with the steering threatened to tip him on to the floor. I braced myself and extended my legs, until my bare feet were pressing against Simon's taut stomach, pinning him safely in place. It wasn't entirely an altruistic act - I made sure to wiggle my toes some, tickling his ribs. He struggled, and we both laughed. After a few minutes of this, Jason quit jerking the steering wheel and before long we were slowing right down to enter the port of Marbella.
I went on deck and we berthed the boat alongside the fuelling dock. As Jason tied off the last berthing line I said:
"What about Simon?"
Jason laughed.
"We'll bring him back a milkshake!"
"Okay, I said "but if we're going to leave him we need to make him a bit more secure."
"His hands are tied behind his back and his feet are tied together!" Jason replied "How much more secure does he need to be? You want to gag him, or something?"
"Nah," I said. "Wouldn't be safe. He's not going to want to draw attention to himself. Too embarrasing. But you'd be surprised how someone can move about, even tied up like he is."
Jason gave me a funny look, like he was wondering how I would know. I ignored it, and opened a storage hatch where we kept the water-skiing stuff. I took out the ski line - forty feet of strong nylon cord, with handles attached.
"This'll do nicely," I said.
We went down into the cabin. Simon was sweating - he had been struggling against his bonds. I checked his wrists and ankles - he had made no progress, they were still securely tied. I started to wrap the ski line around his legs.
"Come on, guys. Please don't leave me here like this. I want to come for a milkshake!"
"We'll bring you one back," Jason said.
"I want to go with you," Simon wheedled.
"Okay," I said. "You can come. But if you do, you'll be walking through Marbella on a leash, with your hands tied behind your back. Your choice, mate!"
Simon considered this.
"Make mine vanilla!" was his only repsonse.
I laughed and continued to tightly wrap his body in forty-feet of ski rope. I created little knotty nexuses at the knees and around the middle of his torso, but there was a turn of rope around virtually every inch of his body, from ankles to shoulders. Simon was completely immobilised.
"Okay," I said. "We'll be back in like twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. I recommend you lie there in the bunk and just relax. Don't try to move about - you might hurt yourself."
"Yeah, I feel very relaxed!" Simon said.
"Remember - your body is bound, but your mind is free!" I said. Then Jason and me left.
"Your body is bound, but your mind is free?" Jason repeated as we walked briskly towards the ice cream shop. "Where did you hear that?"
I shrugged
"Just made it up."
Jason considered.
"I like it," he said.
Chapter 3:
"One vanilla milkshake, coming up" I said as I stooped down into the cabin. We had been gone twenty-five minutes. Simon was where we left him - it would have been miraculous if he was anywhere else, as thoroughly tied as he was. But I could tell by the grimace on his face and the fact that his eyes were screwed shut that something was wrong. He had struggled while we were away, not much but enough to uncomfortably tighten the cord wrapped around his upper body. The fact that the cord was hard, unyielding nylon ski-rope didn't help. Simon groaned.
"Oh, shit, Si!" I said.
I put down the milkshake and started to work on untying the ski-rope. Simon winced as my fingers worked on unpicking the knots that held his arms to his body. I saw that a turn of cord was cruelly pinching his left triceps.
"Jason, give me your knife!" I yelled.
Jason poked his head into the cabin from up on deck, where he was making himself busy readying the boat to leave port. He summed up the situation and said:
"You can't cut the ski-rope. Your dad will kill you!"
"Then he'll kill me. Simon's in pain - give me your knife."
Jason shrugged and handed me his pocketknife. It was a long, sharp Spanish job that would have been illegal back in the U.K. I opened it and made a single, careful cut in the ski-rope, well away from Simon's flesh.. Then I gently unwound it from Simon's upper body and legs. As it came away I saw that it had left rope marks all over, which were especially raw and red around the upper arms and chest. I massaged those areas, tenderly. Simon gave an appreciative moan.
"Sorry, Simon. I didn't mean it to get so tight!" I said.
"It's okay," he said. "I shouldn't have struggled. At first I did like you said and just lay there, letting my mind go, thinking about stuff. It was amazing how clear my thoughts became. Then I heard a noise like some guy from the fuel station was about to board the boat and I panicked. I didn't want to be found all tied up like this. I started to struggle. The noise went away, but the ropes had already got too tight."
"We shouldn't have left you," I said.
"Well, at least you brought me the milkshake!" Simon said, cheerily. I was reminded what a basically good-natured kid he was. I helped him sit up on the edge of the bunk. I had left the original bonds on his wrists and ankles in place. I didn't want to free him completely in case he got mad and lashed out. Now it was clear that wasn't going to happen, but he didn't seem in any hurry to be totally free, so I was in no hurry to untie him!
"Here," I said, holding the milkshake for him. He took several long pulls through the straw.
"It's thirsty work being a helpless prisoner!" Simon said and we both laughed.
The boat was now picking up speed as it left the port of Marbella.
"Want to go up on deck for a while?" I asked.
"Oh, please yes!" Simon replied. He had been tied up in the sweaty cabin for forty-five minutes in total, and was ready for some frsh air.
"Okay."
I knelt down and untied his feet. Then I stood, grasped his upper arm in my hand and helped him to his feet. He turned his back to me, expecting me to free his hands.
I laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry, Si. Your hands need to stay tied for now."
"Oh. I see. Can you at least re-do them in front of me?" Simon asked.
I smiled and shook my head.
"Worth a try!" Simon said with a shrug of his bare shoulders. Then I helped him up on to deck.
"Look at the rope marks!" Jason exclaimed.
"They'll fade," Simon said defensively. He sat down on the rear passenger seat. He slid down in the seat, obviously self-conscious about his bound hands.
We pottered about for another fifteen minutes or so, and talked about our plans for that evening. We decided we'd play the machines for a while in a bar in Banus once we got in. Then we'd go home and change before going out to eat. We had a very free and easy life, on those summer days. Simon joined in the conversation. Nobody made any reference to the fact that his hands were still tied. Then Simon casually asked:
"Can I drive?"
Jason, who was driving, grinned.
"I dunno," he said. "Do you think you can drive a speedboat with your hands tied behind your back?"
"Sure can!" Simon said, jumping to his feet. "Move!"
Jason moved aside. Simon stood at the wheel, leaned his groin against it and steered left then right by swivelling his hips.
Jason and me cracked up.
"You're a talented guy, Si!" I said.
Then we saw a large white sail ahead.
"Is that what I think it is?" I said.
Yup," said Simon "It's 'DRUM'!"
DRUM was Simon Le Bon's yacht, which was often to be found plying the waters off Marbella in those days. This was the hey-day of Duran Duran - "A View To A Kill" was in the cinemas and in the charts - so of course we hated Simon Le Bon with a passion. We made a point of buzzing DRUM whenever we encountered it.
Jason pushed Simon aside.
"This a a job for a man whose hands are free!" he said, as he took the wheel and steered the speedboat towards DRUM and gunned the engine to the max.
Maybe it was because they shared a name, but our Simon professed to especially hate Simon Le Bon. As we circled Drum, we slowed down to let loose a barrage of insults. Simon seemed to have lost any inhibitions he may have had about being seen with his hands tied, as he stood and yelled:
"Simon Le Bon's a wanker!" at the top of voice.
Then he turned his back, presenting his tied hands to DRUM and somehow managed to give the finger to the sleek yacht.
When we had yelled our little hearts out at the bemused crew members on Drum's deck (Le Bon himself was nowhere to be seen that day) we sped off towards Banus.
Once we were clear away, I told Jason to stop. Simon was sitting on the rear passenger seat again. He moved his shoulders in a way that made it clear they were starting to ache. He was young and supple, but his arms had been pulled behind him for well over an hour now.
"Okay, Simon," I said. "Turn around."
Simon turned and knelt up on the passenger seat. He looked hopefully back at me over his shoulder. I reached out and started to work on the knots holding his wrists together.
"For conspicious gallantry in the face of wanker Le Bon," I said. "I hereby grant you, our Simon, the use of your hands!"
I pulled the rope off with a flourish. Simon froze for a second, holding his breath, his hands still behind his body, as if he was unsure that he was really free. Then he sighed and brought his hands in front. He turned around in the seat, rubbing the deep welts on his wrists.
"So how did you enjoy your first time being tied up?" Jason asked him.
Simon grinned. His teeth flashed white.
"It was really tough," he said. "But kind of fun!"
"Fun, really?" I said. "So what was it you said earlier about people who liked to get tied up?"
Jason and I exchanged a glance. Then we pointed at Simon and in unison yelled:
"PERVERT!"
"One vanilla milkshake, coming up" I said as I stooped down into the cabin. We had been gone twenty-five minutes. Simon was where we left him - it would have been miraculous if he was anywhere else, as thoroughly tied as he was. But I could tell by the grimace on his face and the fact that his eyes were screwed shut that something was wrong. He had struggled while we were away, not much but enough to uncomfortably tighten the cord wrapped around his upper body. The fact that the cord was hard, unyielding nylon ski-rope didn't help. Simon groaned.
"Oh, shit, Si!" I said.
I put down the milkshake and started to work on untying the ski-rope. Simon winced as my fingers worked on unpicking the knots that held his arms to his body. I saw that a turn of cord was cruelly pinching his left triceps.
"Jason, give me your knife!" I yelled.
Jason poked his head into the cabin from up on deck, where he was making himself busy readying the boat to leave port. He summed up the situation and said:
"You can't cut the ski-rope. Your dad will kill you!"
"Then he'll kill me. Simon's in pain - give me your knife."
Jason shrugged and handed me his pocketknife. It was a long, sharp Spanish job that would have been illegal back in the U.K. I opened it and made a single, careful cut in the ski-rope, well away from Simon's flesh.. Then I gently unwound it from Simon's upper body and legs. As it came away I saw that it had left rope marks all over, which were especially raw and red around the upper arms and chest. I massaged those areas, tenderly. Simon gave an appreciative moan.
"Sorry, Simon. I didn't mean it to get so tight!" I said.
"It's okay," he said. "I shouldn't have struggled. At first I did like you said and just lay there, letting my mind go, thinking about stuff. It was amazing how clear my thoughts became. Then I heard a noise like some guy from the fuel station was about to board the boat and I panicked. I didn't want to be found all tied up like this. I started to struggle. The noise went away, but the ropes had already got too tight."
"We shouldn't have left you," I said.
"Well, at least you brought me the milkshake!" Simon said, cheerily. I was reminded what a basically good-natured kid he was. I helped him sit up on the edge of the bunk. I had left the original bonds on his wrists and ankles in place. I didn't want to free him completely in case he got mad and lashed out. Now it was clear that wasn't going to happen, but he didn't seem in any hurry to be totally free, so I was in no hurry to untie him!
"Here," I said, holding the milkshake for him. He took several long pulls through the straw.
"It's thirsty work being a helpless prisoner!" Simon said and we both laughed.
The boat was now picking up speed as it left the port of Marbella.
"Want to go up on deck for a while?" I asked.
"Oh, please yes!" Simon replied. He had been tied up in the sweaty cabin for forty-five minutes in total, and was ready for some frsh air.
"Okay."
I knelt down and untied his feet. Then I stood, grasped his upper arm in my hand and helped him to his feet. He turned his back to me, expecting me to free his hands.
I laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Sorry, Si. Your hands need to stay tied for now."
"Oh. I see. Can you at least re-do them in front of me?" Simon asked.
I smiled and shook my head.
"Worth a try!" Simon said with a shrug of his bare shoulders. Then I helped him up on to deck.
"Look at the rope marks!" Jason exclaimed.
"They'll fade," Simon said defensively. He sat down on the rear passenger seat. He slid down in the seat, obviously self-conscious about his bound hands.
We pottered about for another fifteen minutes or so, and talked about our plans for that evening. We decided we'd play the machines for a while in a bar in Banus once we got in. Then we'd go home and change before going out to eat. We had a very free and easy life, on those summer days. Simon joined in the conversation. Nobody made any reference to the fact that his hands were still tied. Then Simon casually asked:
"Can I drive?"
Jason, who was driving, grinned.
"I dunno," he said. "Do you think you can drive a speedboat with your hands tied behind your back?"
"Sure can!" Simon said, jumping to his feet. "Move!"
Jason moved aside. Simon stood at the wheel, leaned his groin against it and steered left then right by swivelling his hips.
Jason and me cracked up.
"You're a talented guy, Si!" I said.
Then we saw a large white sail ahead.
"Is that what I think it is?" I said.
Yup," said Simon "It's 'DRUM'!"
DRUM was Simon Le Bon's yacht, which was often to be found plying the waters off Marbella in those days. This was the hey-day of Duran Duran - "A View To A Kill" was in the cinemas and in the charts - so of course we hated Simon Le Bon with a passion. We made a point of buzzing DRUM whenever we encountered it.
Jason pushed Simon aside.
"This a a job for a man whose hands are free!" he said, as he took the wheel and steered the speedboat towards DRUM and gunned the engine to the max.
Maybe it was because they shared a name, but our Simon professed to especially hate Simon Le Bon. As we circled Drum, we slowed down to let loose a barrage of insults. Simon seemed to have lost any inhibitions he may have had about being seen with his hands tied, as he stood and yelled:
"Simon Le Bon's a wanker!" at the top of voice.
Then he turned his back, presenting his tied hands to DRUM and somehow managed to give the finger to the sleek yacht.
When we had yelled our little hearts out at the bemused crew members on Drum's deck (Le Bon himself was nowhere to be seen that day) we sped off towards Banus.
Once we were clear away, I told Jason to stop. Simon was sitting on the rear passenger seat again. He moved his shoulders in a way that made it clear they were starting to ache. He was young and supple, but his arms had been pulled behind him for well over an hour now.
"Okay, Simon," I said. "Turn around."
Simon turned and knelt up on the passenger seat. He looked hopefully back at me over his shoulder. I reached out and started to work on the knots holding his wrists together.
"For conspicious gallantry in the face of wanker Le Bon," I said. "I hereby grant you, our Simon, the use of your hands!"
I pulled the rope off with a flourish. Simon froze for a second, holding his breath, his hands still behind his body, as if he was unsure that he was really free. Then he sighed and brought his hands in front. He turned around in the seat, rubbing the deep welts on his wrists.
"So how did you enjoy your first time being tied up?" Jason asked him.
Simon grinned. His teeth flashed white.
"It was really tough," he said. "But kind of fun!"
"Fun, really?" I said. "So what was it you said earlier about people who liked to get tied up?"
Jason and I exchanged a glance. Then we pointed at Simon and in unison yelled:
"PERVERT!"
Chapter 4:
"Are you still awake?" Jason whispered.
I sighed and answered:
"Yes."
"I can't sleep," said Jason. "It's too hot."
It was hot in the belly of the boat. The cabin door and deck hatch were open, but there was hardly any movement in the air of that August night. Jason and I lay on our bunks, on top of our sleeping bags, wearing only our swim trunks. And still we sweated. Jason's blond curls were moist and the light sheen of sweat on his deeply tanned chest and smooth, defined stomach glistened in the moonlight.
We often slept over on the boat. It had never been this hot.
"I've been thinking about what you did to Simon," Jason said. (It had been a couple of days since the tie-up shenanigans described in parts 1-3.)
"What WE did, surely?"
"You're the one who tied him up. I couldn't have done that."
"What, you mean you have qualms?"
"Hell, no! I mean I couldn't have tied him as well as you did. Everybody I ever tried to tie up has been able to get free within a couple of minutes. You kept Simon tied for over an hour!"
Jason propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at me intently.
"How did you learn to tie like that?" he asked.
I shrugged and said:
"I practice a lot on my little brother."
Jason was an only child.
"I wish I had someone to practice on," Jason said.
After several seconds, I said, as casually as I could manage:
"You can practice on me, if you like."
"Right now?"
"Sure."
Jason reached out and switched on the cabin light.
"I'll get the rope," he said. "You get on your stomach!"
I rolled over onto my stomach, placing my hands at my sides, palms-up. I looked back over my shoulder at Jason. He was rummaging around excitedly in a storage compartment. He pulled out a couple of lengths of white cotton rope, of the type and thickness used to secure fenders.
"That's good rope," I said.
"Okay," said Jason. Then he launched himself onto me, straddling my legs, his knees planted by my hips.
"Give me your hands!" he ordered, grabbing my hands and pulling them back behind me. He positioned them palm-to-palm and tied them together at the wrists. I smirked, knowing I could easily pull my hands free. They weren't so much behind my back as behind my arse - a common beginner's mistake.
Then Jason surprised me. He took the second piece of rope, but instead of tying my feet as I expected, he cinched my elbows and pulled them together until they were touching, before tying them off with several turns of the rope. I was thin and supple, back then. Still, this was the first time I'd had my elbows tied behind my back. It felt intensely restrictive and I loved it.
"Okay," Jason smirked. "Let's see you get out of that!"
He rolled off of me and sat himself on the edge of his own bunk, watching me expectantly.
I struggled to sit up to face him. The elbow tie made the slightest movement extremely painful.
"You're not getting out of that!" Jason said confidently.
In a single movement I pulled my wrists free. With my elbows still tied, I stuck my hands out beside my body and did a minstrel-type wave at Jason, who looked crestfallen.
"Don't look so down," I said. "You did a pretty good job on my elbows here."
It took a couple of minutes of methodically (and painfully) rolling my shoulders and flexing my elbows to create enough slack to free my elbows. The exertion and the heat made me sweat profusely, which probably helped. Finally, the rope fell to the floor, still with two loops in it. Jason picked it up and began to unpick the remaining knots as I stretched out my aching arms.
"I thought I had you there," he said.
I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back.
"It was a good effort," I said. "But you went with the V-shape. That was a basic mistake."
"What?"
"Well, look. There's basically two ways to tie someone's hands behind their back. The V-shape..."
By way of illustration I placed my arms behind me, hands palm-to-palm below my tailbone.
"...or the U-shape."
I crossed my forearms in the small of my back.
"For most body types, the U-shape is most effective. For you, it would be especially hard to escape from."
"Oh yeah?" Jason said, cocking his head back. "What makes you think so?"
"You have broad shoulders and big bunches of muscles in your arms and stomach. You'd never be able to bring your hands in front of you. Not the way I'd tie you. And I wouldn't even have to tie your feet."
Jason grinned and chucked the rope over to me. I caught it and ran it through my hands, straightening it out.
"Show me!" he said.
He lay down on his stomach and crossed his forearms in the small of his back.
If I have one rule it is this: when a cute shirtless teenager invites me to tie him up, I accept!
So I went briskly to work, binding Jason's crossed hands together in the small of his back. I kept my word and didn't tie his feet. However, I did use both lengths of rope on his hands. By the time I was done they were thoroughly ensnared in a cat's cradle of multiple turns, knots and crosses.
"There you go," I said, ruffling Jason's damp hair. "Good night and good luck!"
I threw myself down on my bunk, turned away to face the wall, and emitted a series of exagerrated snores.
"Very funny," Jason said.
Then he didn't say anything for quite some time, as he began the struggle for the freedom of his hands. I listened, intrigued by the mix of sounds: the writhing of limbs, skin brushing against skin, jagged breathing, the licking of dry lips, the occasional soft groan.
After a full five minutes I turned over, cradled my head on my right bicep, and looked across at Jason.
He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, panting, his hair tousled, his face flushed, a trail of sweat running down the middle of his chest.
I was delighted to see that his arms were still pulled behind him in a perfect "U" shape. I grinned triumphantly. He returned a sheepish smile and a restrained shrug.
"No way I can get out of this," he said.
"Nope," was my simple reply.
"Are you going to untie me?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how you ask."
"Pretty please!" said Jason, with exagerrated sweetness, his dimples working overtime.
"It's not just about the words you use," I said, sitting up to face him.
"So what else do I need to do to get out of this?"
"Well, who would you say has the upper hand in this situation?"
Jason sighed and said:
"You do, obviously."
"What do I obviously have?"
"The upper hand," Jason played along.
"Why do I have the upper hand?"
"Because you're not tied up."
"Right, I have the upper hand because my hands are free. While yours are tightly tied behind your back."
"Yes they are," said Jason, tugging at his bonds for emphasis.
"So what does that mean?"
Jason shrugged.
"Think about it. What can I do to you?" I pressed.
"Anything you want."
"Right. Anthing I want. And what can you do to me?"
"Well, I can kick you in the balls!" Jason said, playfully lashing out at my groin with his right foot.
I deflected the kick and caught his ankle. Then I gathered up his other ankle and pulled his legs out straight in front of him, holding his bare feet together on my bunk.
"Yes, you could try that, " I said. "But pretty much anything you try is going to be easy for me to deal with - why?"
"Because my hands are tied behind my back?"
"Exactly. And of course there's a penalty for even trying..."
I began a stiff-fingered tickle assault on his bare soles.
Jason writhed and screeched. After maybe a minute he started to beg, between gasps:
"Please...stop! I'm...I'm...sorry! I won't try anything again! PLEASE! I'll be...a good prisoner!"
"What did you say?"
"I'LL BE A GOOD PRISONER!"
"A good little prisoner?"
"MMMWAH...YES...A GOOD LITTLE PRISONER! PLEASE!"
I released his feet. He pulled them away and drew his knees up into a protective semi-fetal position, lying on his side in his bunk, his hands still held uncompromisingly behind him.
"Okay," I said. "So how do you think a good little prisoner talks to his captor?"
""Um...respectfully?"
"Certainly. But didn't I say it's not just about the words you use?"
Jason's brow furrowed.
"I don't know what you mean..."
"Well, what do you think would be the appropriate position for a prisoner who wants to beg something from his captor?"
"Wait...you want me to kneel?"
"Bingo!"
"No way. I'm not going down on my knees to you."
I shrugged and said:
"Fine, you don't have to. I just hope you don't need to scratch your nose or something during the night!"
I switched off the cabin lights and lay down to sleep.
"Are you still awake?" Jason whispered.
I sighed and answered:
"Yes."
"I can't sleep," said Jason. "It's too hot."
It was hot in the belly of the boat. The cabin door and deck hatch were open, but there was hardly any movement in the air of that August night. Jason and I lay on our bunks, on top of our sleeping bags, wearing only our swim trunks. And still we sweated. Jason's blond curls were moist and the light sheen of sweat on his deeply tanned chest and smooth, defined stomach glistened in the moonlight.
We often slept over on the boat. It had never been this hot.
"I've been thinking about what you did to Simon," Jason said. (It had been a couple of days since the tie-up shenanigans described in parts 1-3.)
"What WE did, surely?"
"You're the one who tied him up. I couldn't have done that."
"What, you mean you have qualms?"
"Hell, no! I mean I couldn't have tied him as well as you did. Everybody I ever tried to tie up has been able to get free within a couple of minutes. You kept Simon tied for over an hour!"
Jason propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at me intently.
"How did you learn to tie like that?" he asked.
I shrugged and said:
"I practice a lot on my little brother."
Jason was an only child.
"I wish I had someone to practice on," Jason said.
After several seconds, I said, as casually as I could manage:
"You can practice on me, if you like."
"Right now?"
"Sure."
Jason reached out and switched on the cabin light.
"I'll get the rope," he said. "You get on your stomach!"
I rolled over onto my stomach, placing my hands at my sides, palms-up. I looked back over my shoulder at Jason. He was rummaging around excitedly in a storage compartment. He pulled out a couple of lengths of white cotton rope, of the type and thickness used to secure fenders.
"That's good rope," I said.
"Okay," said Jason. Then he launched himself onto me, straddling my legs, his knees planted by my hips.
"Give me your hands!" he ordered, grabbing my hands and pulling them back behind me. He positioned them palm-to-palm and tied them together at the wrists. I smirked, knowing I could easily pull my hands free. They weren't so much behind my back as behind my arse - a common beginner's mistake.
Then Jason surprised me. He took the second piece of rope, but instead of tying my feet as I expected, he cinched my elbows and pulled them together until they were touching, before tying them off with several turns of the rope. I was thin and supple, back then. Still, this was the first time I'd had my elbows tied behind my back. It felt intensely restrictive and I loved it.
"Okay," Jason smirked. "Let's see you get out of that!"
He rolled off of me and sat himself on the edge of his own bunk, watching me expectantly.
I struggled to sit up to face him. The elbow tie made the slightest movement extremely painful.
"You're not getting out of that!" Jason said confidently.
In a single movement I pulled my wrists free. With my elbows still tied, I stuck my hands out beside my body and did a minstrel-type wave at Jason, who looked crestfallen.
"Don't look so down," I said. "You did a pretty good job on my elbows here."
It took a couple of minutes of methodically (and painfully) rolling my shoulders and flexing my elbows to create enough slack to free my elbows. The exertion and the heat made me sweat profusely, which probably helped. Finally, the rope fell to the floor, still with two loops in it. Jason picked it up and began to unpick the remaining knots as I stretched out my aching arms.
"I thought I had you there," he said.
I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back.
"It was a good effort," I said. "But you went with the V-shape. That was a basic mistake."
"What?"
"Well, look. There's basically two ways to tie someone's hands behind their back. The V-shape..."
By way of illustration I placed my arms behind me, hands palm-to-palm below my tailbone.
"...or the U-shape."
I crossed my forearms in the small of my back.
"For most body types, the U-shape is most effective. For you, it would be especially hard to escape from."
"Oh yeah?" Jason said, cocking his head back. "What makes you think so?"
"You have broad shoulders and big bunches of muscles in your arms and stomach. You'd never be able to bring your hands in front of you. Not the way I'd tie you. And I wouldn't even have to tie your feet."
Jason grinned and chucked the rope over to me. I caught it and ran it through my hands, straightening it out.
"Show me!" he said.
He lay down on his stomach and crossed his forearms in the small of his back.
If I have one rule it is this: when a cute shirtless teenager invites me to tie him up, I accept!
So I went briskly to work, binding Jason's crossed hands together in the small of his back. I kept my word and didn't tie his feet. However, I did use both lengths of rope on his hands. By the time I was done they were thoroughly ensnared in a cat's cradle of multiple turns, knots and crosses.
"There you go," I said, ruffling Jason's damp hair. "Good night and good luck!"
I threw myself down on my bunk, turned away to face the wall, and emitted a series of exagerrated snores.
"Very funny," Jason said.
Then he didn't say anything for quite some time, as he began the struggle for the freedom of his hands. I listened, intrigued by the mix of sounds: the writhing of limbs, skin brushing against skin, jagged breathing, the licking of dry lips, the occasional soft groan.
After a full five minutes I turned over, cradled my head on my right bicep, and looked across at Jason.
He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, panting, his hair tousled, his face flushed, a trail of sweat running down the middle of his chest.
I was delighted to see that his arms were still pulled behind him in a perfect "U" shape. I grinned triumphantly. He returned a sheepish smile and a restrained shrug.
"No way I can get out of this," he said.
"Nope," was my simple reply.
"Are you going to untie me?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how you ask."
"Pretty please!" said Jason, with exagerrated sweetness, his dimples working overtime.
"It's not just about the words you use," I said, sitting up to face him.
"So what else do I need to do to get out of this?"
"Well, who would you say has the upper hand in this situation?"
Jason sighed and said:
"You do, obviously."
"What do I obviously have?"
"The upper hand," Jason played along.
"Why do I have the upper hand?"
"Because you're not tied up."
"Right, I have the upper hand because my hands are free. While yours are tightly tied behind your back."
"Yes they are," said Jason, tugging at his bonds for emphasis.
"So what does that mean?"
Jason shrugged.
"Think about it. What can I do to you?" I pressed.
"Anything you want."
"Right. Anthing I want. And what can you do to me?"
"Well, I can kick you in the balls!" Jason said, playfully lashing out at my groin with his right foot.
I deflected the kick and caught his ankle. Then I gathered up his other ankle and pulled his legs out straight in front of him, holding his bare feet together on my bunk.
"Yes, you could try that, " I said. "But pretty much anything you try is going to be easy for me to deal with - why?"
"Because my hands are tied behind my back?"
"Exactly. And of course there's a penalty for even trying..."
I began a stiff-fingered tickle assault on his bare soles.
Jason writhed and screeched. After maybe a minute he started to beg, between gasps:
"Please...stop! I'm...I'm...sorry! I won't try anything again! PLEASE! I'll be...a good prisoner!"
"What did you say?"
"I'LL BE A GOOD PRISONER!"
"A good little prisoner?"
"MMMWAH...YES...A GOOD LITTLE PRISONER! PLEASE!"
I released his feet. He pulled them away and drew his knees up into a protective semi-fetal position, lying on his side in his bunk, his hands still held uncompromisingly behind him.
"Okay," I said. "So how do you think a good little prisoner talks to his captor?"
""Um...respectfully?"
"Certainly. But didn't I say it's not just about the words you use?"
Jason's brow furrowed.
"I don't know what you mean..."
"Well, what do you think would be the appropriate position for a prisoner who wants to beg something from his captor?"
"Wait...you want me to kneel?"
"Bingo!"
"No way. I'm not going down on my knees to you."
I shrugged and said:
"Fine, you don't have to. I just hope you don't need to scratch your nose or something during the night!"
I switched off the cabin lights and lay down to sleep.
Chapter 5:
I opened my eyes to see Jason lying on his stomach in the opposite bunk. His hands were as I’d left them - securely tied in the small of his back. A short, taut length of twine ran from his wrists to his ankles, which were also roped together. His sleek, tanned legs were bent back at the knees about as far as they could go, so his bound feet nestled just below his buttocks.
"Funny," I thought, in my first moment of wakefulness. "I don't remember putting him in a hogtie."
Then I felt a weight land on my back with a force that winded me. Powerful hands seized my arms and forced them behind me. Simon's grinning face appeared in my line of vision. He cocked his head and said:
"Have you met my big brother?"
I glanced back and up at the older teen who was sitting on my back. He was maybe seventeen. He looked like Simon, but handsome where Simon was still cute. A big dog, not a puppy. I had seen him around the port, usually with a different girl every time. I knew he was Simon's brother, and that his name was David. Sometimes he had answered the door when I had called round for Simon. Otherwise, our interactions had been minimal.
"Stay down!" he barked, forcing my head back down. He was strong. He started to briskly tie my hands behind me with knots that felt more than efficient.
"I told David here that you guys had tied me up," Simon explained. "And asked him to help me get a little payback. He was happy to oblige."
"I bet he was," I said, wincing as a knot was pulled tight, pinching the skin of my wrist.
"Thanks for getting that one started for me," said David, indicating the hog-tied Jason. "I just had to add a few finishing touches."
Jason groaned and shifted as much as his bonds would allow - which was not very much at all.
"That prick kept me tied up all night," Jason said. "I want to get him back too. If you untie me, I'll help you guys!"
"Does it look like we need your help?" David said, as he tied my ankles together and drew them up behind my body to meet my bound wrists.
Jason looked at Simon with an appeal in his big brown eyes.
"Please, Simon. Give me a break here. My hands have been behind me like this for hours. I think I'm getting cramp in my shoulder or something."
Jason was right - his hands had been tied all night. Early morning light filtered through the boat's portholes. David and Simon must've got up early to launch their dawn raid.
"Please, Simon," Jason repeated.
Simon started to say, "Maybe we can..." but David cut him right off.
"No way. They both stay tied until I say so. If you don't like it you can join them, little brother - got that?"
"Got it!" said Simon.
As I lay there testing the stringency of my hogtie, which was considerable, I wondered about Simon's previous claim to never have been tied up before, with this guy for a big brother. David sure knew how to tie a guy up, and seemed to have the taste for it.
David did a last check of my bonds, then Jason's.
Satisfied that we were helpless he said, "Okay, let's take this bucket of rust out for a spin."
"She's not a bucket of rust," I protested.
"You want to be gagged?" David replied sharply.
"No, sir! Sorry, sir!" I said (I find it helps to be extra polite when you're a helplessly bound captive),
"Right, you're sorry," David muttered.
"Need any help casting off?" Simon asked.
"Nah," said David. "You stay down here and play with your little friends. I'll drive the boat."
"One thing, David. Sir!" I said.
"You just can't shut up, can you?"
"No. I mean yes... but... we'll need to fuel up if we're taking the boat out."
David considered this.
"Okay, where's your cash?" he said.
"In my pocket."
I rolled over a little to expose the side pocket of my swim shorts. David reached into it and extracted a couple of thousand peseta notes.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," I said with what I hoped was a winning smile. "I'd shake your hand but mine are tied behind my back."
David returned my smile.
"You're alright," he said. Then he ruffled my hair, and went up on deck.
Simon looked at me quizzically. Jason glowered at me.
"Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir. What a pathetic suck-up you are!" Jason said.
Simon nodded in agreement.
"Hey, you have to play the hand you're dealt," I said.
The boat started to move away from the berth. We wouldn't be able to pick up any real speed until we had left the port. Before that, we'd need to stop at the fuel dock. A thought occurred to me.
"Oh, wait a minute," I said. "What if the guy at the fuel dock sees us like this? They might think we've been kidnapped and call the Guardia Civil. There's a police post right in the tower, there. You don't want to get on the wrong side of those guys!"
"Shut up," said Simon. "Nobody's going to see you down here."
"Someone standing on the dock could see me through the hatch there," I said, jerking my head towards the dark-glass hatch above. "It's not totally blacked out, you know."
"Okay," said Simon. "We'll just have to move you over here to the other side of the boat!"
With some effort and little ceremony, Simon grabbed me by the elbows and lifted me off my bunk, before dumping me down beside Jason on the other bunk. The bunk was narrow. Jason struggled to lie on his side. I did likewise. Still, our bare chests, stomachs and thighs were pressed together, our faces only an inch or two apart.
"I really don't want to be this close to you right now," Jason said.
"Aw, don't you love me anymore, Jase?" I said. Then I rubbed my nose against Jason's - Eskimo kiss style.
Jason tried to pull away, but his bonds and the close space gave him little scope.
"You two make a cute couple," Simon taunted.
"If you don't get me out of this, I'm going to scream my head off at the fuel dock," Jason said.
"Thanks for the warning," Simon replied. He went up on deck and returned with two chamois leather cloths. He started to fold one into a tight square.
"I was joking," Jason said weakly. "I won't make a sound, I swear."
"I know you won't," said Simon, as he stuffed the chamois into Jason's mouth and tied it in place with a piece of twine, which he looped three times around Jason's head.
"I never threatened to scream," I said urgently as Simon folded the second chamois.
"I know," said Simon. "You've been a model prisoner. But I think we should remove the temptation anyway."
And he gave me the same treatment as Jason. Fortunately, the chamois were just out the packet and unused - although I had no doubt Simon would've have used them on us even if they were filthy.
My doubts about Simon's claims to tie-up virginity were growing by the second - as was my physical discomfort.
Basically, I needed to pee - badly. I had been seized and bound as I awoke, and had had no chance to take my morning relief. I felt the strong urge now. I suspected Jason felt the same way.
The boat's engine cut out, and we glided to berth alongside the fuel dock.
I could hear David talking to the attendant above deck. Then came the sounds of fuel being pumped. The mental image of a spout with liquid flowing freely from it increased my need to pee. I tried desperately to block the image, screwing my eyes shut and nestling my forehead on Jason's broad, warm shoulder.
"Gaa aff", Jason said through his gag.
"You know, I don't know what's harder to understand," Simon said to Jason. "You talking through a gag, or you talking in your regular accent!"
"Faa uff ya Ennlish bashta," was Jason's muffled response.
I knew what Jason meant to say. Simon was English, from the Home Counties, near London, and very well spoken. Jason was Scottish from Edinburgh and he spoke - when he wasn't gagged with a chamois leather cloth - with a thick brogue that could be hard to follow for the uninitiated.
I was also from Scotland, born to a Scottish father and an American mother with family roots in Ireland's County Donegal. I had spent quite a bit of time in Massachusetts, in my mother's hometown, including a period at school there, so my own accent was (and is) a weird mid-Atlantic muddle - Boston/Glasgow fusion if you can imagine such a thing - but still rather more intelligible than Jason's!
Still, I wasn't able to make myself any better understood through my gag. I tried to say "I need to piss":
"Ah eed ah pushh!" is what came out.
"I hear you," said Simon.
I craned my neck around to look at him hopefully. He was sitting on the opposite bunk, cradling his chin in his hands and gazing at us pair of prisoners with a dreamy little smile on his slightly-flushed face.
"I hear you say 'ah-ee-ah-push'," he went on. "I just don't know what the hell you mean by that!"
I sighed and wriggled a bit, tugging at my bonds in frustration. My body rubbed against Jason's as I did so.
"Aht tiggles!" Jason said.
"What was that?" Simon said. "You want to be tickled?"
"NNNNNEH!" was the unanimous response from Jason and me.
Simon knelt down beside our bunk and leant over our bound bodies. He laid a hand on my shoulder, drumming his fingers ominously on my collar bone. With his other hand he reached across me and ran his fingers lightly along Jason's ribcage. Jason tensed and tried to pull away - but the fact that he was wedged between me and the side of the boat, as well as tightly hogtied, meant he had little room for maneuver. Still, his midriff thrust forward to press firmly against mine - a development I might have welcomed except for the additional pressure it put on my bladder!
If Simon really started tickling me now, I was worried I'd piss not only myself, but on Jason as well.
Drastic action was called for. I coughed several times into my gag, as if starting to choke.
"Very funny," said Simon. "But you're not fooling me!"
His fingers began to probe my armpits. I felt a single drop of pee touch cloth. Desperate, I escalated the coughs to a loud retching sound.
David poked his head down into the cabin.
"Get that gag off him, idiot!" he said. Then he withdrew and started the engine.
Simon's nimble fingers unpicked the knotted twine holding the cloth in my mouth. I forced the damp cloth out with my tongue.
"Simon, I swear to god I'm going to piss myself here."
Jason made a loud protest into his gag - he definitely saw the danger to himself in this situation . Simon removed his gag in turn.
"I need to go too," Jason said when his mouth was unpacked. "Badly."
"You've got to let us go," I said urgently. "Untie us, please!"
"Untie you?" Simon sounded doubtful.
"Just for a couple of minutes," I pleaded. "You can retie us right after. I swear I'll co-operate with anything you want to do. And so will Jason."
"Speak for yourself," said Jason. "You've been tied up for ten minutes. I've been tied all night. I need to be free for a bit now."
Simon thought for a moment. The boat was pulling away from the fuel dock now, heading for the mouth of the port and the open sea beyond.
"I'll ask my brother," he said and went up on deck.
I looked at Jason. Our faces were less than an inch apart, so it was hard to focus on his face.
"You know you need to learn to keep your mouth shut even when you're not gagged," I whispered. "Why did you go and say that? You could have promised to cooperate, then welched once we were free."
"Uh-huh," said Jason. "You know what you need to do? Brush your teeth. Your breath stinks."
Simon had been up on deck for a couple of minutes. The boat was heading out to sea at full throttle.
Jason and me remained lying on our sides on a single bunk, facing each other, our torsos pressed together, our arms and legs bound behind us in uncompromising hogties.
I felt as if my bladder was about to burst. Jason made a minute adjustment in his position - no more than the slightest movement of his hips. The friction caused an intense burning sensation in my groin. I felt like the floodgates were about to break.
"Jason, please!" I said in a hoarse whisper. "Please. Just... don't move. At all."
"You've got it really bad, don't you?"
I nodded imperceptibly.
"Serves you right, for leaving me tied up all night!"
"That was your choice," I countered. "All you had to do was beg."
"Oh, yeah? Well how about you beg me to stop doing this?"
Jason began rhythmically thrusting his pelvis against mine. The sensation was unbearable... unbelievable... incredible.
I opened my mouth to beg, but only a moan escaped.
Just then, David came down into the cabin.
"What are you two little homos up to?" he asked, with a derisive laugh.
"Nothing," Jason said quickly.
"Looked like something from where I'm standing. Still, to each his own. I'll just need to remember to warn Simon to watch his arse around you two. Now - I understand you need to go potty?"
"Yes, sir!" I squeaked. "Desperately."
"Diddums."
David gathered me up effortlessly and dumped me back down on the other bunk. He was very strong.
"Well, look, here's how it is. Bathroom privileges have to be earned on my vessel."
Oh.something about his brother being a Royal Navy cadet. That would explain the sturdy knots on my wrists and ankles.
"I'll do anything,' I said quickly. "Anything at all."
"Anything, really?" said David. "Okay - scratch your nose!"
"Um... my hands are tied behind my back, in case you hadn't noticed!"
"Oh, no - I had noticed," David rejoined. "Which is why I thought it was odd that you offered to do *anything*. When, in fact, there's very little you can do in your current situation, is there?"
"No, there's not much I can do," I had to concede. My mind clicked into strategic mode. "But I bet I could pee with my hands tied behind my back!"
"That I would like to see," David said with a predatory smile.
"Untie my feet and take me to the back of the boat," I said. "I'll give you a show!"
David laughed.
"Ok - but just your feet."
He leaned over me and unpicked the knotted twine that held my hands and feet together. Then he untied the cotton rope from around my ankles. My wrist-ties were my only remaining bonds. Briefly.
"Let's make this a little more challenging!" David said. "Turn and kneel."
I knelt up on the bunk.
I wonder what this is about? I thought.
I got my answer when I felt David's hands on my elbows, drawing them together and ensnaring them with the rope that he had just removed from my ankles.
"Okay, now you stay right where you are," David ordered.
Obediently, I held my position - kneeling, arms pulled behind me, head down, staring at the bunk, trying not to think of the burning in my bladder - while David gave Jason the exact same treatment.
I heard Jason protest as the elbow ties were pulled tight.
"You're not as supple as your mate," David remarked.
God help me, but I felt a swell of pride at that.
I'm flexible - or I was - but my elbows can't touch behind my back for any length of time without serious discomfort. Fortunately, David hadn't tied them touching - he had constructed a six-inch bridge of knotty rope between them. He now used this bridge as a handle, firmly gripping it and pulling me off my knees, before pushing me up onto deck. Jason was similarly wrangled.
Simon was driving the boat. He looked at me and grinned.
"Cut the engine!" David ordered.
Simon obeyed at once - David obviously had him well trained. I was now quite convinced that Simon's claim never to have been tied up before was a ploy to draw us into the spiral of tie-up games in which we were now ensnared. He had played us masterfully. Inwardly, I resolved to make him pay in ropeburn for his deviousness!
"Your mate here says he can piss with his hands tied behind his back - isn't that right?" David said.
"I'll piss standing right here with my hands tied behind my back if you don't get us on the dive platform, quick!"
David propelled me and Jason forward, forcing us to clamber awkwardly over the backseats, and positioning us on the dive platform at the rear of the boat.
Then David took his hands off us and stood back to watch.
There was a modest swell on the Med that day. The boat swayed gently in the waves. But even a gentle swell can be a challenge when your arms are bound behind you at wrists and elbows, throwing off your balance to begin with!
Jason and me had to do some fancy footwork to find a somewhat stable, wide-legged stance.
I heard David and Simon chuckling in the rear.
"How are you going to get your dicks out?" Simon asked.
I had been pondering the same question. I looked around - there were no other boats in view. It was still quite early in the morning, after all. I decided to throw dignity and modesty to the winds: I grabbed the back of my swim trunks with my bound hands. After several seconds of writhing my torso, bending at the waist, dipping at the knees and tugging at the seat of my trunks, the trunks were riding down my thighs, below my arse.
Cursing, Jason did likewise.
And so we (further) polluted the Med with our golden arcs. It was probably the best piss of my life. The sense of relief was fierce - and short lived. Because just as I was squeezing out the last few blessed drops...
...a hand pushed me sharply between the shoulder blades, sending me plunging off the platform and into the cold saltwater below.
Unfortunately that was the last chapter ever posted, still I think it's a nice story that it's worth sharing so...
THE END?
I opened my eyes to see Jason lying on his stomach in the opposite bunk. His hands were as I’d left them - securely tied in the small of his back. A short, taut length of twine ran from his wrists to his ankles, which were also roped together. His sleek, tanned legs were bent back at the knees about as far as they could go, so his bound feet nestled just below his buttocks.
"Funny," I thought, in my first moment of wakefulness. "I don't remember putting him in a hogtie."
Then I felt a weight land on my back with a force that winded me. Powerful hands seized my arms and forced them behind me. Simon's grinning face appeared in my line of vision. He cocked his head and said:
"Have you met my big brother?"
I glanced back and up at the older teen who was sitting on my back. He was maybe seventeen. He looked like Simon, but handsome where Simon was still cute. A big dog, not a puppy. I had seen him around the port, usually with a different girl every time. I knew he was Simon's brother, and that his name was David. Sometimes he had answered the door when I had called round for Simon. Otherwise, our interactions had been minimal.
"Stay down!" he barked, forcing my head back down. He was strong. He started to briskly tie my hands behind me with knots that felt more than efficient.
"I told David here that you guys had tied me up," Simon explained. "And asked him to help me get a little payback. He was happy to oblige."
"I bet he was," I said, wincing as a knot was pulled tight, pinching the skin of my wrist.
"Thanks for getting that one started for me," said David, indicating the hog-tied Jason. "I just had to add a few finishing touches."
Jason groaned and shifted as much as his bonds would allow - which was not very much at all.
"That prick kept me tied up all night," Jason said. "I want to get him back too. If you untie me, I'll help you guys!"
"Does it look like we need your help?" David said, as he tied my ankles together and drew them up behind my body to meet my bound wrists.
Jason looked at Simon with an appeal in his big brown eyes.
"Please, Simon. Give me a break here. My hands have been behind me like this for hours. I think I'm getting cramp in my shoulder or something."
Jason was right - his hands had been tied all night. Early morning light filtered through the boat's portholes. David and Simon must've got up early to launch their dawn raid.
"Please, Simon," Jason repeated.
Simon started to say, "Maybe we can..." but David cut him right off.
"No way. They both stay tied until I say so. If you don't like it you can join them, little brother - got that?"
"Got it!" said Simon.
As I lay there testing the stringency of my hogtie, which was considerable, I wondered about Simon's previous claim to never have been tied up before, with this guy for a big brother. David sure knew how to tie a guy up, and seemed to have the taste for it.
David did a last check of my bonds, then Jason's.
Satisfied that we were helpless he said, "Okay, let's take this bucket of rust out for a spin."
"She's not a bucket of rust," I protested.
"You want to be gagged?" David replied sharply.
"No, sir! Sorry, sir!" I said (I find it helps to be extra polite when you're a helplessly bound captive),
"Right, you're sorry," David muttered.
"Need any help casting off?" Simon asked.
"Nah," said David. "You stay down here and play with your little friends. I'll drive the boat."
"One thing, David. Sir!" I said.
"You just can't shut up, can you?"
"No. I mean yes... but... we'll need to fuel up if we're taking the boat out."
David considered this.
"Okay, where's your cash?" he said.
"In my pocket."
I rolled over a little to expose the side pocket of my swim shorts. David reached into it and extracted a couple of thousand peseta notes.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," I said with what I hoped was a winning smile. "I'd shake your hand but mine are tied behind my back."
David returned my smile.
"You're alright," he said. Then he ruffled my hair, and went up on deck.
Simon looked at me quizzically. Jason glowered at me.
"Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir. What a pathetic suck-up you are!" Jason said.
Simon nodded in agreement.
"Hey, you have to play the hand you're dealt," I said.
The boat started to move away from the berth. We wouldn't be able to pick up any real speed until we had left the port. Before that, we'd need to stop at the fuel dock. A thought occurred to me.
"Oh, wait a minute," I said. "What if the guy at the fuel dock sees us like this? They might think we've been kidnapped and call the Guardia Civil. There's a police post right in the tower, there. You don't want to get on the wrong side of those guys!"
"Shut up," said Simon. "Nobody's going to see you down here."
"Someone standing on the dock could see me through the hatch there," I said, jerking my head towards the dark-glass hatch above. "It's not totally blacked out, you know."
"Okay," said Simon. "We'll just have to move you over here to the other side of the boat!"
With some effort and little ceremony, Simon grabbed me by the elbows and lifted me off my bunk, before dumping me down beside Jason on the other bunk. The bunk was narrow. Jason struggled to lie on his side. I did likewise. Still, our bare chests, stomachs and thighs were pressed together, our faces only an inch or two apart.
"I really don't want to be this close to you right now," Jason said.
"Aw, don't you love me anymore, Jase?" I said. Then I rubbed my nose against Jason's - Eskimo kiss style.
Jason tried to pull away, but his bonds and the close space gave him little scope.
"You two make a cute couple," Simon taunted.
"If you don't get me out of this, I'm going to scream my head off at the fuel dock," Jason said.
"Thanks for the warning," Simon replied. He went up on deck and returned with two chamois leather cloths. He started to fold one into a tight square.
"I was joking," Jason said weakly. "I won't make a sound, I swear."
"I know you won't," said Simon, as he stuffed the chamois into Jason's mouth and tied it in place with a piece of twine, which he looped three times around Jason's head.
"I never threatened to scream," I said urgently as Simon folded the second chamois.
"I know," said Simon. "You've been a model prisoner. But I think we should remove the temptation anyway."
And he gave me the same treatment as Jason. Fortunately, the chamois were just out the packet and unused - although I had no doubt Simon would've have used them on us even if they were filthy.
My doubts about Simon's claims to tie-up virginity were growing by the second - as was my physical discomfort.
Basically, I needed to pee - badly. I had been seized and bound as I awoke, and had had no chance to take my morning relief. I felt the strong urge now. I suspected Jason felt the same way.
The boat's engine cut out, and we glided to berth alongside the fuel dock.
I could hear David talking to the attendant above deck. Then came the sounds of fuel being pumped. The mental image of a spout with liquid flowing freely from it increased my need to pee. I tried desperately to block the image, screwing my eyes shut and nestling my forehead on Jason's broad, warm shoulder.
"Gaa aff", Jason said through his gag.
"You know, I don't know what's harder to understand," Simon said to Jason. "You talking through a gag, or you talking in your regular accent!"
"Faa uff ya Ennlish bashta," was Jason's muffled response.
I knew what Jason meant to say. Simon was English, from the Home Counties, near London, and very well spoken. Jason was Scottish from Edinburgh and he spoke - when he wasn't gagged with a chamois leather cloth - with a thick brogue that could be hard to follow for the uninitiated.
I was also from Scotland, born to a Scottish father and an American mother with family roots in Ireland's County Donegal. I had spent quite a bit of time in Massachusetts, in my mother's hometown, including a period at school there, so my own accent was (and is) a weird mid-Atlantic muddle - Boston/Glasgow fusion if you can imagine such a thing - but still rather more intelligible than Jason's!
Still, I wasn't able to make myself any better understood through my gag. I tried to say "I need to piss":
"Ah eed ah pushh!" is what came out.
"I hear you," said Simon.
I craned my neck around to look at him hopefully. He was sitting on the opposite bunk, cradling his chin in his hands and gazing at us pair of prisoners with a dreamy little smile on his slightly-flushed face.
"I hear you say 'ah-ee-ah-push'," he went on. "I just don't know what the hell you mean by that!"
I sighed and wriggled a bit, tugging at my bonds in frustration. My body rubbed against Jason's as I did so.
"Aht tiggles!" Jason said.
"What was that?" Simon said. "You want to be tickled?"
"NNNNNEH!" was the unanimous response from Jason and me.
Simon knelt down beside our bunk and leant over our bound bodies. He laid a hand on my shoulder, drumming his fingers ominously on my collar bone. With his other hand he reached across me and ran his fingers lightly along Jason's ribcage. Jason tensed and tried to pull away - but the fact that he was wedged between me and the side of the boat, as well as tightly hogtied, meant he had little room for maneuver. Still, his midriff thrust forward to press firmly against mine - a development I might have welcomed except for the additional pressure it put on my bladder!
If Simon really started tickling me now, I was worried I'd piss not only myself, but on Jason as well.
Drastic action was called for. I coughed several times into my gag, as if starting to choke.
"Very funny," said Simon. "But you're not fooling me!"
His fingers began to probe my armpits. I felt a single drop of pee touch cloth. Desperate, I escalated the coughs to a loud retching sound.
David poked his head down into the cabin.
"Get that gag off him, idiot!" he said. Then he withdrew and started the engine.
Simon's nimble fingers unpicked the knotted twine holding the cloth in my mouth. I forced the damp cloth out with my tongue.
"Simon, I swear to god I'm going to piss myself here."
Jason made a loud protest into his gag - he definitely saw the danger to himself in this situation . Simon removed his gag in turn.
"I need to go too," Jason said when his mouth was unpacked. "Badly."
"You've got to let us go," I said urgently. "Untie us, please!"
"Untie you?" Simon sounded doubtful.
"Just for a couple of minutes," I pleaded. "You can retie us right after. I swear I'll co-operate with anything you want to do. And so will Jason."
"Speak for yourself," said Jason. "You've been tied up for ten minutes. I've been tied all night. I need to be free for a bit now."
Simon thought for a moment. The boat was pulling away from the fuel dock now, heading for the mouth of the port and the open sea beyond.
"I'll ask my brother," he said and went up on deck.
I looked at Jason. Our faces were less than an inch apart, so it was hard to focus on his face.
"You know you need to learn to keep your mouth shut even when you're not gagged," I whispered. "Why did you go and say that? You could have promised to cooperate, then welched once we were free."
"Uh-huh," said Jason. "You know what you need to do? Brush your teeth. Your breath stinks."
Simon had been up on deck for a couple of minutes. The boat was heading out to sea at full throttle.
Jason and me remained lying on our sides on a single bunk, facing each other, our torsos pressed together, our arms and legs bound behind us in uncompromising hogties.
I felt as if my bladder was about to burst. Jason made a minute adjustment in his position - no more than the slightest movement of his hips. The friction caused an intense burning sensation in my groin. I felt like the floodgates were about to break.
"Jason, please!" I said in a hoarse whisper. "Please. Just... don't move. At all."
"You've got it really bad, don't you?"
I nodded imperceptibly.
"Serves you right, for leaving me tied up all night!"
"That was your choice," I countered. "All you had to do was beg."
"Oh, yeah? Well how about you beg me to stop doing this?"
Jason began rhythmically thrusting his pelvis against mine. The sensation was unbearable... unbelievable... incredible.
I opened my mouth to beg, but only a moan escaped.
Just then, David came down into the cabin.
"What are you two little homos up to?" he asked, with a derisive laugh.
"Nothing," Jason said quickly.
"Looked like something from where I'm standing. Still, to each his own. I'll just need to remember to warn Simon to watch his arse around you two. Now - I understand you need to go potty?"
"Yes, sir!" I squeaked. "Desperately."
"Diddums."
David gathered me up effortlessly and dumped me back down on the other bunk. He was very strong.
"Well, look, here's how it is. Bathroom privileges have to be earned on my vessel."
Oh.something about his brother being a Royal Navy cadet. That would explain the sturdy knots on my wrists and ankles.
"I'll do anything,' I said quickly. "Anything at all."
"Anything, really?" said David. "Okay - scratch your nose!"
"Um... my hands are tied behind my back, in case you hadn't noticed!"
"Oh, no - I had noticed," David rejoined. "Which is why I thought it was odd that you offered to do *anything*. When, in fact, there's very little you can do in your current situation, is there?"
"No, there's not much I can do," I had to concede. My mind clicked into strategic mode. "But I bet I could pee with my hands tied behind my back!"
"That I would like to see," David said with a predatory smile.
"Untie my feet and take me to the back of the boat," I said. "I'll give you a show!"
David laughed.
"Ok - but just your feet."
He leaned over me and unpicked the knotted twine that held my hands and feet together. Then he untied the cotton rope from around my ankles. My wrist-ties were my only remaining bonds. Briefly.
"Let's make this a little more challenging!" David said. "Turn and kneel."
I knelt up on the bunk.
I wonder what this is about? I thought.
I got my answer when I felt David's hands on my elbows, drawing them together and ensnaring them with the rope that he had just removed from my ankles.
"Okay, now you stay right where you are," David ordered.
Obediently, I held my position - kneeling, arms pulled behind me, head down, staring at the bunk, trying not to think of the burning in my bladder - while David gave Jason the exact same treatment.
I heard Jason protest as the elbow ties were pulled tight.
"You're not as supple as your mate," David remarked.
God help me, but I felt a swell of pride at that.
I'm flexible - or I was - but my elbows can't touch behind my back for any length of time without serious discomfort. Fortunately, David hadn't tied them touching - he had constructed a six-inch bridge of knotty rope between them. He now used this bridge as a handle, firmly gripping it and pulling me off my knees, before pushing me up onto deck. Jason was similarly wrangled.
Simon was driving the boat. He looked at me and grinned.
"Cut the engine!" David ordered.
Simon obeyed at once - David obviously had him well trained. I was now quite convinced that Simon's claim never to have been tied up before was a ploy to draw us into the spiral of tie-up games in which we were now ensnared. He had played us masterfully. Inwardly, I resolved to make him pay in ropeburn for his deviousness!
"Your mate here says he can piss with his hands tied behind his back - isn't that right?" David said.
"I'll piss standing right here with my hands tied behind my back if you don't get us on the dive platform, quick!"
David propelled me and Jason forward, forcing us to clamber awkwardly over the backseats, and positioning us on the dive platform at the rear of the boat.
Then David took his hands off us and stood back to watch.
There was a modest swell on the Med that day. The boat swayed gently in the waves. But even a gentle swell can be a challenge when your arms are bound behind you at wrists and elbows, throwing off your balance to begin with!
Jason and me had to do some fancy footwork to find a somewhat stable, wide-legged stance.
I heard David and Simon chuckling in the rear.
"How are you going to get your dicks out?" Simon asked.
I had been pondering the same question. I looked around - there were no other boats in view. It was still quite early in the morning, after all. I decided to throw dignity and modesty to the winds: I grabbed the back of my swim trunks with my bound hands. After several seconds of writhing my torso, bending at the waist, dipping at the knees and tugging at the seat of my trunks, the trunks were riding down my thighs, below my arse.
Cursing, Jason did likewise.
And so we (further) polluted the Med with our golden arcs. It was probably the best piss of my life. The sense of relief was fierce - and short lived. Because just as I was squeezing out the last few blessed drops...
...a hand pushed me sharply between the shoulder blades, sending me plunging off the platform and into the cold saltwater below.
Unfortunately that was the last chapter ever posted, still I think it's a nice story that it's worth sharing so...
THE END?