There's a Soccer Born Every Minute multiple m/m 4 parts completed

[Jason Toddman]

THERE’S A SOCCER BORN EVERY MINUTE

“So, Jake…” the blond captain of the Soccer team said to the prospective recruit with a not-fully-concealed sneer on his handsome face and an even less-well-concealed tone of sarcasm in his voice; “you think you have what it takes to join the Mighty Bucks?”

“You bet I do,” Jake replied with casual self-confidence; if he noticed the other boy’s rather offensive manner, he didn’t show it. “I’m the best goalie you’ll ever meet in this town who isn’t already out of high school!”

Charlie, the 17-year-old team captain, looked at the new boy up and down with a touch of disdain that he didn’t quite feel. Though only fifteen, Jake was taller than any of the other six boys present – even though these were all juniors and seniors rather than a lowly sophomore. But though he was obviously a superb athlete from what the others could see of him, his cherubic face and slender build made him look years younger than he actually was – like an overgrown twelve-year-old. This made it easier to take him less seriously than another, older-looking boy would have been. The fact that his voice sounded like that of a prepubescent added to the perception the other boys had that Jake was more suited to a children’s choir than he was to a soccer team. And those thick glasses he wore screamed “NERD!” to anyone who looked at him.

Charlie looked at his other five team-mates; they’d just been beginning a practice game when Jake had rode up on his bicycle and asked to join the school soccer team. No one else was present on the field, which itself was isolated from view from anywhere else except for the adjacent school building – and as it was now late Friday afternoon there was no one there either. “What do you think guys?” he asked the others.

Frank - Charlie’s closest friend - was also 17, several inches shorter than Charlie’s 5’ 10” (175 cm) height, but thanks to his stockier build weighed about the same at 150 pounds (68 kg). “Let’s give him a try, Charlie,” Frank said with a look and tone even more disdainful than the team captain’s had been; “we could use a few laughs.”

The other four boys, all of them juniors, went along withtheir two older team-mates with simple nods or monosyllabic grunts of agreement.

Charlie spread his team out so that they could work together to try scoring goals off this young newcomer while Jake positioned himself to guard the net. Charlie and the others still wore their soccer uniforms, but Jake was wearing similarly light clothing – an old, faded tank-top, a set of gym shorts that ran only halfway down to his knees, a pair of white socks, and a pair of new Nike sneakers. Charlie and his friends were fresh (having all arrived here in Charlie’s car) while Jake was slightly tired from having come here by bicycle, so they expected this try-out to be short, fun, and thoroughly embarrassing for this sophomore soccer wannabe.

But fifteen minutes later and twelve successful saves by Jake later, Charlie and his friends had not scored a single goal, and their smug smiles were all wiped off their faces. They called time out and asked Jake to wait by the goal net while the six of them had a private huddle to discuss the situation.

“Cripes, that kid is good!” exclaimed Chip, the red-headed, freckle-faced junior.

“But can he score as well as play keeper?” asked Greg, the slender African-American boy who wore an old-fashioned Afro.

“Yeah,” seconded Nick, the short, stocky black boy who shaved off his hair altogether; “for all we know he kicks like a little girl!”

“One way to find out,” suggested Phuong, the Asian kid; “Have him try to score some goals off each of us!”

Charlie agreed with that suggestion and called to Jake. “We’re each going to be the goalie while to try to score a goal past us,” Charlie told him. “Get all six, and then pass the initiation, and then you’re in!”

“What initiation?” Chip (who was standing just behind and to the right of Charlie) began to ask, but a solid thump in his midriff from Charlie’s elbow turned this into a rather loud “W-OOF!” as if he were trying to bark like a dog. Rubbing his suddenly sore stomach and looking at his team captain, he caught a glare that instantly warned him not to try to pursue the matter.

Phuong, considered the best keeper of the soccer team after Charlie himself, took position in front of the net while Jake prepared to kick the ball. Jake launched his kick, and the ball sailed well past Phuong almost before the boy realized the ball was even in motion.

Six boys said the same three word expression almost in unison; “What the f***?!?”

Disgruntled, Charlie took position as goalie; determined that this mere sophomore wasn’t going to score a goal past HIM!

This time, he uttered the same expression as before – only louder and more angrily. That soccer ball flew past him as if launched out of a damned cannon!

Charlie’s remaining four team-mates took their own turns, but Charlie was already certain of the conclusion and began to plan the unsuspecting Jake’s ‘initiation’ into the club!

By the time the last boy took his turn as goalie, Charlie’s plans were fully formed and he quickly and quietly gave his remaining team-mates the gist of it. Just as annoyed with this young upstart as Charlie was, the other four immediately agreed to help Charlie carry his plan out.

“That was a good game,” Charlie said cheerfully to Jake with as straight a face as he could manage. “Say, could you help us take the soccer net down? It has a few broken spots in it that need to be repaired!” This last part was true enough, and Charlie even pointed out a couple of places where the fabric had indeed been frayed.

“Sure!” Jake replied agreeably. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stand right over there and catch the net when it falls,” Charlie asked him, pointing to a spot inside the center of the goal area, right in front of the net itself, as he and his team-mates quickly detached the net from the goal posts.

Jake complied with the request before it occurred to him to wonder about Charlie’s rather odd request. “But how will that help?” he began to ask as he turned back around to face Charlie. But all that came of his mouth was a startled “Bu-awk!” - making him sound very much like a startled chicken that had just had one of its tail-feathers pulled.

The net itself wasn’t very heavy and didn’t drop far enough to do more than startle Jake; he simply stood there in puzzlement and began trying the pull the net off of himself. But before he could get well-started, the other six boys surrounded him and began to wind the entire net around him to entangle him even further. Charlie swept Jake’s out from under him while Chip and Phuong caught him and lowered him gently to a prone position on the ground. The remaining boys eagerly entangled their victim like so many spiders pouncing on a helpless fly.

“HEY!” Jake yelled - this time in outrage rather than surprise – as he began to fight back. His arms were already hopelessly enmeshed and pinned down into almost total immobility by one of his assailants. There was no one holding down his legs however, and he now demonstrated the same power kicking against the other boys as he had kicking the soccer ball unerringly to its goal. One boy went reeling backward to fall on his rump, while another received a kick to his shin that sent him hopping around on his other leg yelling lurid profanities. A third boy just narrowly managed to dodge a heel to the groin that would have taken him out of the fight altogether had it landed. The others all received several bruises apiece to various portions of their anatomy before their reluctant victim was finally rendered almost completely immobile by the soccer-net-turned-makeshift-cocoon combined with three of the boys straddling him.

“That won’t hold him for long,” Charlie decided. He turned to one of the two boys who were still on their feet rather than pinning down their netted prey. “Greg, go to the locker room and get that big coil of rope they use to fence off areas.” As captain of the soccer team, Charlie had the keys needed to get into the school and into the locker room, and handed them over to his team-mate. With a quick nod, Greg ran as fast as he could go to carry out Charlie’s order.

By the time Greg returned with the half-inch thick, red-colored coils of rope (five coils, each about forty feet long), Jake’s struggles against his captors had become considerably weaker but had by no means ceased altogether. Five of the boys took a coil apiece and proceeded to wrap it tightly around part of Jake’s anatomy as tightly as possible while the remaining boy kept turning Jake over and over to help with the binding process. By the time they were finished, Jake’s legs were as immobile as if they were welded together, while his arms were thoroughly trapped against his sides. The most Jake could do now was wriggle feebly like a slug, glare at them angrily, and swear loudly but ineffectually against his captors.

A roll of duct tape that Greg had also thoughtfully fetched soon took care of the cursing, and a blindfold made from one of their shirts served equally well to deal with Jake’s reproachful glares. Jake could still thrash feebly around, but as this only aroused scornful laughter from the other boys these soon ended as well.

“Okay, fellows,” Charlie said to his team-mates cheerfully. ‘Let’s make our new team-mate feel right at home.”

All six boys got a solid grip on their captive (the net providing plenty of handholds), lifted him up, and carried him like a large sack of grain to the locker room.

******

Jake wasn’t feeling too confident anymore. Of course, it’s hard to feel confidence when you’re all wrapped up in a net like a freshly caught fish and being hauled away to an uncertain fate by a bunch of boys who had you completely at their mercy. It’s even worse when you were the new kid in town and didn’t know any of your captors - and therefore couldn’t appeal to their sense of friendship even if you could utter a coherent word in the attempt.

Jake had possessed every confidence in his soccer skills, and had thought a simple demonstration of these would win over any skeptics in the school’s soccer team and win him a place in the Mighty Bucks. But if this was their idea of an initiation, then he was going to have more trouble joining the team and being considered one of them than he had thought.

Jake still had no idea just how much trouble he was in for!

Charlie released his grip on the net as the boys came close to the school, and ran ahead to open the door leading to the vacant gymnasium. The remaining five boys carrying Jake hauled him quickly to the door but thankfully were careful enough not to bump or scrape their helpless captive against the door frame. Still, the moment they were all inside and the door to the outside was closed and latched behind them, Jake felt a sinking feeling of doom within his gut. The quiet, bare corridor of the hallway behind the gymnasium reminded him of a prison he’d seen on TV once.

The boys came to another door and paused while Charlie unlocked it. Through the netting and the thin material of his makeshift blindfold, Jake dimly saw a clean but vacant boy’s locker room beyond. The layout was similar to a small-case letter ‘t’, with the entrance along the curly part at the bottom; making the rest of the locker room invisible from the doorway or outside for privacy reasons. Beyond the bend at the entrance, a set of benches were flanked by a row of lockers on either side up to the bar of theft’. On the left bar were the showers, while the right-side bar contained another bench and more lockers; out of sight even from the main part of the locker room. It was to this bench that Jake was hauled up to and then – somewhat but not too – gently set down upon, lying on his back and facing upward.

“Okay, let’s make our guest… ummm… reasonably comfortable,” Charlie suggested to his team-mates as he removed the shirt covering the net over Jake’s eyes.

Apparently Charlie’s idea of making Jake more comfortable involved taking yet another coil of rope about 100 feet (30 m) long and winding it all around Jake’s body and the bench he lay upon together. The rope wasn’t too tight, but it ensured that Jake would be unable to rise up (or fall) off the bench.

Jake was then alarmed to see Charlie flick open a jackknife he had stowed in his locker and approach him with it. Seeing Jake’s wide-eyed look of alarm (accompanied by nervous squeals and renewed but fruitless struggles to escape), Jake stopped. “Relax, kid,” he said to Jake with a friendly (if still mischievous) grin and a quiet, even tone of voice. “I’m not going to cut you with this; provided you don’t wiggle around so much I do it by accident! I’m just going to cut the net off from around your head so you can breathe better.”

Jake relaxed somewhat but still looked warily at the older boy as Charlie crouched down beside him and got to work. Charlie was careful and methodical; always keeping the edge of the knife-blade away from any adjacent portion of Jake’s anatomy as he sliced a hole just larger than Jake’s head from the fabric of the net. Once he was done, Jake’s head was clear of the net; though none of the rest of him was. But though he could not move, he could see and breathe a lot better, since the net had previously squished Jake’s glasses into his cheeks and nose and made it difficult for him to do either very well up to now.

“Better?” Charlie asked with evident concern as he clicked his knife shut and put it away.

“A bit,” Jake admitted quietly; wishing to do nothing to show the outrage he was feeling inside of him. Protesting all this would certainly do him no good and might even make things worse; whereas if he just took this with good grace they’d be satisfied and let him go free before very long.

Jake was still very naïve about some things.

“Good!” Charlie replied as he stood up, walked to the other end of the bench, and squatted down again. “Now let’s see about making you a bit more comfortable.”

Out came the knife blade again, but this time Jake wasn’t quite as concerned as before as he watched the older boy sliced away at the net around his feet. Before long, Jake’s sneaker-covered feet were sticking out of the confines of the net as well. Charlie put away his knife again. “Okay Chip, Nick… care to do the honors?” he asked the two boys in question as he stepped away from the foot of the bench.

Jake watched warily as the two boys Charlie had named walked up to the foot of the bench, crouched down, and carefully began to untie Jake’s sneakers. Once they were done, both boys pulled off a sneaker from Jake’s feet at the same time and tentatively sniffed it. “Yeah, these will do,” Chip announced as if checking vegetables for freshness and gently tossed the sneaker he held over to Charlie.

Jake’s look of puzzlement was ignored as the two boys then pulled off his socks and sniffed those as well. “*Phew!* that stinks!” Nick said cheerfully as he and Chip tossed the socks they held over to Charlie as well.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked nervously as Charlie proceeded to roll the socks together into a ball and crouched down beside him again.

“Open your mouth and close your eyes; and you’ll get a great big surprise!” Charlie replied with a taunting smile and equally taunting tone of voice.
But Jake did the reverse; his eyes widened in alarm as he clamped his mouth tightly shut.

“That never really works, you know,” Charlie insisted as he pinched Jake’s nose shut.

But Jake wasn’t as simple as all that; he simply breathed in and out rapidly through the corners of his mouth; giving Charlie no leeway to insert the socks. Charlie tried to pry Jake’s jaws open, but Jake apparently had strong jaws; his attempts only got him bit in one finger.

“You know what to do, guys,” Charlie indicated to the boys at Jake’s feet.

Grinning happily, Nick and Chip resumed their posts at the foot of the bench and slowly stroked their fingers along the undersides of Jake’s feet. “AHHH! AHAHAHAHAHA!” Jake bellowed with sudden laughter. “OH NO! Don’t! STOP!”

“Wow! He’s even more ticklish than my kid brother!” Chip said gleefully as he continued to tickle Jake’s feet. “Can’t we keep doing this for a while?”

“Not just yet!” Charlie replied as he took advantage of the available wide-mouthed opening to stuff Jake’s own socks into the helpless boy’s mouth. “We don’t want him to choke, now do we? Anyway, there will be plenty of time to play with him later.”

Jake had ceased being tickled the moment the socks had gone into his mouth, and he tried to spit the nasty, stinking things out in disgust. Before he could do this however, his mouth was sealed over with a fresh Mighty Bucks soccer shirt one of the other boys had brought. “Here’s your new team shirt,” Charlie said to his captive as he tied several tight knots into it to make a crude but tight and effective gag. “Wear it in good health!”

Once that was done, Charlie took an equally, fresh set of team uniform shorts and stuffed it down over Jake’s head like a ski-cap. Jake’s facial features were now totally obscured and the effectiveness of his gag was somewhat further enhanced, but his nose was still clear (poking out of one leg of the shorts) and he could still breathe quite freely – more so than he could when he head was wrapped inside the net anyway.

“We’re going to go string up a new net and resume our practice,’ Charlie told his captive. “Sorry you have to be benched for the duration, but we’ll make it up to you when we get back!”

Charlie and his team-mates cheerfully high-fived one another as they grabbed a new net and walked out of the locker room; turning out the light as they went. The locker room was now completely dark, as there were no windows anywhere. Jake tried to call to them, but what few feeble sounds he managed to utter were completely ignored as the boys left the locker room. The sound of the lock turning and the sound of the boys’ voice fading into silence filled him with gloom and despair.

It was soon as dark and as silent as the tomb, except for Jake’s muffled, subdued sighs of resignation spaced with an occasional moan, sniffle, or an especially deep exhalation of air through the nose in sheer frustration.

[The slave]

awesome i want to be in her place i really love this story too much

[harveygasson]

Great start

[Jason Toddman]

Great start

Thanks.

awesome i want to be in her place i really love this story too much

I'd enjoy being in Jake's place myself.


Part 2.

Charlie and the other five boys carried a fresh net back out to the soccer field and installed it onto the goal net frame before resuming their play. Then, although their minds were more upon the fun they were going to have later with their helpless captive, they engaged in a vigorous practice session for the next hour or so… working up a lot of sweat in the process. As they kicked the ball around to one another, they laid plans about how they would torment Jake for his ‘initiation’… which was going to last somewhat longer than Jake had anticipated. With any luck, they could get away with keeping him tucked away inside the locker room and at their complete mercy for the entire night.

“Good thing dad wanted us to replace that net anyway,” Charlie told his friends as he scored a goal right past Chip, who was serving as the goalie at the moment. “It sure came in handy to trap that prat!”

“You sure no one will find Jake in there before we’re done with him?” Frank asked Charlie more than once. “What if one of the teachers comes in, or the coach, or…”

“My dad’s the coach; remember doofus?” Charlie reminded him with a grin that took the potential sting out of his sarcastic reply. “He trusts me with the keys, so he won’t be coming by tonight. The assistant gym teacher is recovering from that injury to his shoulder. The janitor is visiting his in-laws this weekend, so he won’t be by either. No one else – not even the principal - would have any reason to go near the locker room at all until Monday. We’re perfectly safe.”

“But what about his folks?” persisted Frank. “Aren’t they likely to look for him here?”

“Nope,” replied Charlie. “I’ve met Jake before; even went to his house once. Guess that’s what gave him the idea to try out for the team in fact, because he figured we were friends. Anyway, his dad’s not in the picture at all and his mom is either out working as a waitress somewhere or spending time with her friends. Jake’s a latchkey kid. Bet you anything his mom won’t even notice he’s gone.”

Charlie had no sooner said this when the distinct sound of a cell-phone playing the (USA version) of the Dragonball Z theme could suddenly be heard from the backpack and bicycle Jake had stowed to one side of the field upon his arrival (and which had been left untouched ever since). “We’d better move this junk out of sight too, come to think of it,” Charlie told the others as he broke off playing and casually strolled toward the still-ringing phone. “Better shut that thing off too while I’m at it, so it won’t attract attention or be traced.”

He opened Jake’s backpack and pulled out the phone. It had stopped ringing, and there was a text message written on the screen:

Out for weekend. Use up leftovers in fridge. Stay with friend if U like. Luv, Mom.

“See?” Charlie said to the others with a sardonic laugh. “This will be even smoother than I’d figured. Let me just make sure mommy dearest has no reason for concern.”

Charlie typed a simple message in reply (OK. Luv U2. J), and sent it to the number Jake’s mom had called from, and then shut the phone off before tossing it back into Jake’s backpack. “We’ll just take Jake’s bike and stuff back to his house sometime tonight and no one will be the wiser. Then we’ll have all weekend for his initiation, instead of just the evening as we thought!”

Charlie’s friends gave a unanimous cheer at this announcement and resumed their soccer practice. There was no hurry to get to Jake now. Just playing soccer while knowing there was a helpless captive awaiting their return filled them all with keen anticipation… and more than one of them felt a certain other part of them than their heart grow harder as they continued to play.

It was a very long hour-and-a-half for Jake as he lay all alone inside the locker room. He was as hot and sweaty as his captors by now, as he had all but exhausted himself in frantic (and futile) efforts to get free of his bonds. Wondering how long they intended to keep him trapped here all alone (surely not until school started on Monday?); he lay quietly (except for some rather heavy breathing at first) on his prison bench contemplating the future with considerable dread.

At first Jake had not been too afraid. He’d figured Charlie and the others would let him stew for a while, have a few laughs at his expense, and finally let him go free. But as what seemed like many hours (instead of a mere 90 minutes) passed with no sign that the others were returning, he began to wonder if they had forgotten all about him – or perhaps deliberately intended to leave him tied up right here all weekend long until school resumed Monday morning.

Oh no! Jake had just remembered… it was Memorial Day weekend! School wouldn’t resume until Tuesday! He’d be trapped here for three-and-a-half days until someone stumbled across him on Tuesday morning unless Charlie and the others returned sooner. But what if they didn’t? Anticipatory pangs of hunger, thirst, and a sudden need to use the restroom immediately began to assail before any of these needs really became manifest as his imagination suddenly conjured up all the dire possibilities of what might happen to him in that long interval!

Jake’s imagination was just getting started in adding to his already real torment when the sound of approaching voices suddenly came to Jake’s attention. He quieted down his still loud and ragged breathing so he could listen more carefully. Yes, those were definitely the voices of the same boys who had trapped him so neatly and left him here. Thank goodness, they hadn’t forgotten him! They would come in, unwrap him, let him go, and bygones would be bygones.

“You sure you can get your parents to let you stay out tonight?” Charlie’s voice asked someone as the boys were still well outside the locker room door.

“Sure thing, man,” replied one of the other boys; Greg, Jake believed his name was… the thinner of the two black kids. “My folks are so used to my staying over with one of you other guys over the weekend that they don’t even check with your parents anymore. They’ll probably be glad to have me out of the house! I’ll just tell them the truth… that someone needs me as a babysitter!” This was followed by laughter that sounded positively evil to the now pensive Jake.

“And Nick and I can stay with him overnight tomorrow,” Phuong’s voice added at about the same time the locker room door was being opened. “So he won’t be too alone much… though he might eventually wish he was!” This last comment elicited more evil-sounding laughter as the boys strolled into the locker room and looked over their captive.

Even with the fluorescent lights back on, Jake could not see his captors looking him over, as he still had a blindfold around his eyes, a set of shorts covering his entire head over that, and the net itself beneath these covering his face. But he could hear them as they gathered around the bench he was fastened to and began snickering.

“Should we remove his blindfold so he can see?” Nick asked out loud.

“Nah, leave it on him a while longer,” replied Phuong. “I don’t want him watching us as we shower anyway. It might get him excited!”

The six boys laughed good-naturedly at this as they prepared for their shower.

Jake could hear the various boys open up their lockers to get what they needed for their showers. At one point he suddenly felt the weight of one of the boys settle down (more or less gently, at least) on his chest, while another seated himself a trifle less gently on his belly. Being unable to see, Jake couldn’t see what their current state of undress was but hoped fervently that they were not doing this to him in the altogether. Because of all the material that covered his own face and body however (including the net and all that rope that was wrapped all around him), he couldn’t tell by feel… and decided that this was just about as well.

In any case, neither boy sat upon him for more than a few seconds – perhaps finding the net too uncomfortable for them – but quickly got up and ran to the shower. His captors took their time with their shower and totally ignored Jake; not that he could do much to attract their attention at the moment even had he wanted to. Besides, he still held out some hope that once they had finished their showers and got dressed, they’d decide to let him go free.

In that he was only partially right.

After a few minutes, Jake could hear the distinct squishing sound of wet bare feet on tile as a couple of the boys left the shower and approached his bench. “All right, Jake,” Charlie’s voice said to him from right beside him. “It’s time to get you out of there!”

Jake felt unseen hands loosen and untie the rope that bound him to the bench, and then help him to sit up – turning him to one side at the same time as his legs were still bound together by the net. Much to Jake’s relief, his gag and blindfold were immediately removed as well.

Jake blinked – his eyes no longer used to the light – and looked around. Two of the boys were still showering, while the other four stood around him. None of these were naked any longer (if they had been at all), but all they wore were a set of red speedos with blue stripes (the school colors) such as the swim team wore. They were all still dripping wet as well.

The boys then helped Jake to stand on his feet. “Hold still while we get this net off of you,” Charlie told him kindly. Then, while one boy helped brace him so that he wouldn’t keel over while one of the others unwrapped the net from around his upper body. Jake sighed with relief; not hearing a slight metallic rattle from directly behind him as one of the boys quietly removed something from his locker.

Jake’s sigh of relief turned into a squawk of outrage as the remaining two boys – who had been standing behind him – suddenly grabbed his arm and forced them close together behind his back. Before Jake knew what was happening, he heard and felt the distinctive sensations of a set of steel handcuffs being closed and locked around his wrists. He tried to fight, but it was too late – and the fact that his legs were still thoroughly netted would have hindered him too much for any effective self-defense in any case.

“What’s going on?” Jake asked; trying to sound tough but sounding more like a child only half his age instead. “I thought you were letting me go!”

“Heck, no,” Charlie told him with a grin. “Your initiation is only getting started.”

“But I have to be headed home soon,” Jake told him with a sliver quiver in his voice.

“Don’t worry Jake old boy, you won’t be missed,” Charlie assured him with an even more mischievous grin. “Your mom left a message saying she’d be out all weekend. So now you won’t be lonely. You’ll have us for company the whole weekend.”

While Chip and Phoung held Jake by the arms, Frank and Nick were unraveling the rest of the ragged net from around their captive’s legs. Then, before Jake could take any advantage of having his legs free and unencumbered, a set of ankle-chains was fastened on him as well.

“Now then, this is how we’re going to do this,” Charlie told Jake firmly but with his smile still in place. “We’re going to remove the handcuffs from you for a moment so you can get that sweaty shirt off. Once you’ve done that, we’ll remove the leg irons so that you can shuck the rest of your clothes and put on these speedos before you take a shower. Try to put up a fight or get away at any time, and not only will we have some fun wrestling you to the floor and beating the fight out of you, but we’ll toss you into the shower with nothing on at all, chain you to the railing here, set the water temperature as high as it’ll go, and leave you there until you’re redder than a boiled lobster. Is there any part of this you do not understand?”

A wide-eyed and very quiet Jake shook his head vehemently. “I won’t fight,’ he added hastily just to make absolutely sure he wasn’t misunderstood. He didn’t like the sound of those consequences Charlie had outlined for him one bit.

His handcuffs were taken off of him, and Jake removed his shirt – revealing a well-toned (and well-tanned) upper body. Jake’s captors grunted with mingled admiration and envy as they released his legs so that Jake could finish undressing. Jake’s socks and sneakers had already been removed. He turned his back to his captors so that he could not see his private area as he removed his shorts and put on the speedos (which at least matched those his captors wore). Charlie and Frank caught a glimpse anyway, and each had feelings of jealousy that they found hard to conceal from their team-mates. Damn, this guy was sure built! What would he be like when he was their age?

Charlie and the others kept close behind Jake and kept him cornered against the lockers; ready to act immediately if Jake was to try to get away despite his state of under-dress. But Jake made no foolish moves, put on the speedos briskly, and submitted without complaint to having the handcuffs and ankle-cuffs replaced on him.

“Time to hit the showers, Jake,” Charlie said with a smile. The older boy locked his left arm within Jake’s right and Frank locked his right arm around Jake’s left arm, and together the two boys frog-marched Jake to the still-running shower.

Jake was wondering how he was supposed to shrub himself while his hands were cuffed, but he need not have worried; his captors had already planned for this ahead of time.

Once he was inside the shower area – a communal area with several shower-heads and no privacy curtains – Jake’s left wrist was released from the handcuffs. This proved to be only a momentary respite however as his wrists were then placed against a stout metal tower rack bolted into the tiled wall in front of him and then abruptly cuffed to it. Jake tugged on it experimentally, but the metal towel rack did not even budge. Even a gorilla would be hard put to tear that metal bar out of the wall; Jake certainly stood no chance of doing so at all.

With Jake facing the wall, his back was exposed and vulnerable. Before he knew it, no fewer than three separate shower heads on the opposite wall were aimed at his back and set on full blast and at a temperature level that seemed just short of freezing. A fourth shower head directly in front of him was also turned on and aimed for his face; this one was also icy cold. Jake spluttered and spat as he tried to get his head and face away from the icy spray, but it was too close and the spray too wide. It was all he could do to breathe without sucking water droplets up his nose. At the same time, his near-naked body began shivering almost uncontrollably. Forgotten now was the fact that it was a hot and rather humid day and that it’d been rather stuffy inside the locker room prior to his captors’ return.

Charlie and the others stood by at a reasonably safe distance and laughed at Jake’s evident discomfort for a few minutes. Then, once they figured Jake’s sweat had been well washed off, they turned the temperature up on the shower head in front of Jake to a tepid level, aimed it lower to spray his torso, and shut off the other three along the opposite wall.

At this point, Frank grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squirted a generous dollop of it into his hand, and began to massage it into Jake’s scalp from behind.

“Hey!” Jake protested.

“Hold still!” Frank told him. “You wanna get this stuff in your eyes?”

Jake groused but submitted to having his hair shampooed as if he were a baby.

Once Frank finished shampooing Jake’s hair, Nick and Phuong began scrubbing the rest of Jake’s body with soapy water applied to some sponges… not in any kind of overtly personal way but more as if they were washing a dirty and reluctant dog. Despite Jake’s initial fears, there were no attempts to fondle him anywhere, and a few incidents where he was lightly and briefly tickled appeared to be more accidental than otherwise. Even when a couple of the boys began to towel him dry, no one took the kind of advantage of his helpless position that Jake had begun to halfway expect.

All the same, Jake was glad when this embarrassing ordeal was finally over and done with. At least, he thought it was over. How wrong he was he learned only a few moments later when he was led from the shower – still handcuffed and hobbled and taken to one of the nearby benches. “Sit down,” Charlie told him. “It’s time to get you ready for your nap!” So saying, he placed a swimmer’s cap onto his captive’s head; entirely covering his hair but leaving his (rather puzzled) face still fully exposed.

“Nap?” Jake lamely inquired just before he saw the rubber ball that his captors intended to stuff into his mouth. Jake briefly fought against the inevitable before the rubber ball was placed snug and secure inside his jaws, and his mouth sealed shut with a generous portion of duct tape. After that, further inquiries were rendered totally incomprehensible.

“I trust you were thanking me for placing the shower cap on you first to protect your hair!” Charlie told him with a smirk. “Getting the tape on your hair would've ruined your nice ‘do!”

Jake muttered a response through his gag, but it didn’t sound particularly thankful.

“Now keep still,” Charlie continued a trifle more sternly. “We’re going to wrap you up in tape. Stay still and don’t fight us, and this can go smoothly. Fight us, and we’ll simply lay you on the floor, sit on top of you, and pound the stuffing out of you until you learn some sense!”

Jake sensibly decided to stay still. Even so, most of his legs from thighs to shins were firmly welded together with a mass of tape before his ankles were freed from their shackles. Once his legs were entirely covered except the soles of his feet, his arms were securely taped to his torso. His handcuffs were removed only when his arms had already lost so much of their power of movement that they became superfluous (and, indeed, were getting in the way of further taping) anyway. Even his hands were generously taped over, and his fingers bound together so that they had virtually no flexibility at all. Securely bound to his sides, Jake resembled a living mummy (albeit one wrapped in silvery bandages) from the shoulders down.

Taping Jake’s head required a bit more care to avoid covering his nose or eyes. It was unanimously decided to not blindfold Jake because it was felt by all that seeing his predicament unfold would add to his feelings of helplessness more than a blindfold would. And so by the time they had finished taping him up, Jake indeed looked like a 21st century mummy – complete with modern glasses – and was just about as capable of movement as an old-fashioned one (outside of horror movies) as well.

While the boys had taken turns wrapping Jake in duct tape, each had one at a time taken a turn in changing into regular street clothes. By the time Jake was fully dressed in his speedos and duct tape, all six of his captors were fully clothed and ready to go home.

“Time to go into your sarcophagus, mummy!” Charlie announced as several of the boys grabbed onto Jake’s nearly-immobile form, lifted him up, and half-carried half-dragged him into a wide-open locker directly behind him.

Realizing what they were about to do, Jake struggled anyway despite literally having less than a snowball’s chances in the hot place of succeeding. He was of course successful only in eliciting more laughter from his captors as they pushed him backwards into his waiting receptacle. The locker was just wide enough to accommodate the younger boy’s shoulders as he was stood up facing outward at the others. All saw the pleading look in his eyes and heard the pitiable moan in his throat, but these only struck them as being incredibly funny.

“Sleep in your crypt, creep!” Charlie told Jake with a cheese-eating grin as he closed the locker door shut with almost dramatic slowness, clicked it shut, and then (with as much noise as possible for dramatic effect) locked the padlock into the hasp and closed it shut.

All six boys laughed, pounded on the locker with their hands, peered in at Jake through the tiny grille set inside the locker door (although they couldn’t really see inside it), exclaimed “Sweet dreams!” or variations thereof in mocking voices, and then left the locker room to go home to relax. The light inside the locker room was shut off (Jake could see a little through the grille until they did that), and the door closed and locked tight. Once again Jake listened with growing despair as the voices of his captors slowly faded into the distance until all was once again silent… save for his own breathing and occasional muffled groans.

And he still hadn’t even been given a chance to use the bathroom from the moment he’d been taken prisoner and brought in here!!!

Time passed… how much time, Jake did not know.

It was dark and quiet as a tomb…

No, no, don’t think like that! You’re not dead, dammit! You’re in a locker room, not a mausoleum. You’re alive… you’re healthy… you’re perfectly fine. You’ve been left all alone, but at least someone knows where you are. You’re in no real danger… except from sheer boredom perhaps. The idiots who stuck you don’t intend to harm you in any real way. They’ll have their little fun with you, and then they’ll let you go!

Eventually.

Now focus!

It was as dark and quiet as his own room when everyone else in the house was fast asleep. It was quite peaceful, actually. There were none of the usual sounds that usually irritated him in the middle of the night. His dad’s snoring… his little sister playing that accursed Justin Bieber music too loud… that dull-witted dog next door that barks at everything that moves… the occasional sound of a passing car… the crickets… the wind rustling through the leaves and branches of the tree that overhung his bedroom… the tic-tic-tic of the clock in the hallway… the dripping faucet in the bathroom… the occasional whir of the kitchen refrigerator as it started up at irregular intervals to keep the food fresh… the sound of raindrops… they were all gone.

Funny how we don’t really notice things until they’re gone, and then we miss them.

It was so quiet that his own heartbeat sounded like a bass drum in his ears, and his breathing loud and stentorian. The only other sounds were also those he made himself; such as the aimless shifting of his body rubbing against the metal door and walls of the locker, or the slight sound of duct-tape as it flexed against his skin. Jake had never experienced such a total absence of sound before. It disturbed him. It was if the entire world outside the locker – or at least the locker room itself – had completely vanished from existence.

Stop thinking like that, Jake! The world is still there. And you’ll rejoin it again soon.

Eventually.

Although apparently not tonight.

It was so dark! Not like a tomb, exactly…but close. There was a slight glow coming from somewhere outside the locker… probably an LED somewhere along the wall. It was dim and unwavering; so slight he hadn’t noticed it at all for a long time. It wasn’t enough to see anything by; it was just... there! Still, it was enough to make Jake realize that something still existed besides himself, his bonds, the locker he was trapped inside of, and the dark, quiet space of the locker room beyond.

At first the darkness and the quiet were frightening… as if there were something unseen and unheard lurking out there – aware of him and preparing to do something horrible to him. But once Jake had adjusted to the idea that he’d be stuck in here for the foreseeable future, things didn’t seem as dark figuratively as they did literally. There was a sort of beauty to the peace and quiet; to the lack of distracting sights, sounds, scents, and touches of the usual sort. The dark was serene now; not scary. The quiet stillness made a relaxing counter-point to the usual cacophony that prevailed in most waking moments of his life; even moments when he was alone in his room or walking outdoors or using the bathroom…

Why did you have to think about the bathroom?!? (Groan!)

There was an almost total lack of sensation that Jake had never imagined before. No light. No sound. Nothing to feel but the tape which wrapped him and the metal walls and door of the locker that trapped him. No smells – except maybe a little of his own sweat and the glue of the duct tape right under his nose and over his mouth. No taste except the dryness of his mouth; man, he could use a drink of water right now!

Nothing. He’d never felt anything like this before… at least, not since the day he’d left his mother’s womb anyhow, and of course he remembered nothing about *that*!

It was so strangely peaceful, not being able to move. It was like being just another inanimate object. A statue, say.

No decisions. No responsibilities. No demands. No motion at all.

It was kind of restful, really. It was… was…

*Zzz-zzz-zzz!* Unh!? (Snort!) Whawuzzhat?!?

What the hell? Did I just fall asleep? In here? Like this?! For the love of…

Gosh though, it’s so peaceful in here. Never knew the dark and quiet could be so nice.

Wish it wasn’t’ so stuffy in here though. And my feet are beginning to hurt standing on them for so long.

How long *have* I been standing in here, anyway? Can’t tell. No way to keep track of time. Might have been just a few minutes… or a few hours!

Gawd, my bladder is sure starting to feel full though. Yeah, I must’ve been in here for hours; it feels *way* worse than it did before. In fact, I’ve never felt such a need to go so badly before in my entire life! Oh! Oh! Omigod, I can’t stand it!!!

Jeez… what am I gonna do if they don’t come back and let me outta here soon? I’m not sure I can even *go* with all this damned tape wrapped around me! And assuming I manage it, it’s gonna feel really, really funky! Especially with all this tape around me to keep it in…

Man, I’ve got to hold on… but I’m not sure if I *can*!

Come on you guys! Come back! Let me out! This isn’t funny!

Come on, Jake. Focus. Ignore the full sensation down… there.

Focus on how peaceful it is. How calm. How quiet. Nothing can hurt you here. Just relax.

That’s it. Relax. No worries. No cares. No strife.

So tranquil here. Yeah. So nice. So quiet.

So… so…

Zzz-zzz-zzz!

[Jason Toddman]

Part 3.

A dim light shining into his eyes and the sound of voices and approaching footsteps gradually roused a sleepy Jake. But before he was quite reoriented to his surroundings and situation, loud metallic banging mere inches in front of him jolted him fully awake. Jake would likely have jumped right up and yelled in surprise if he hadn’t been so thoroughly taped up that he could do neither one.

Jake’s awareness of his current dilemma flooded back into his sleepy brain as the sound of a combination padlock being dialed open and then unhooked reached his ears. He had just come fully awake when the padlock was removed and the locker door was flung wide open. The sudden surge of fluorescent light hitting his dark-adjusted eyes dazzled Jake. He shut his eyes and tried to avert his gaze until his eyes could adjust to the light, but whoever had opened the locker door was apparently too impatient to wait for that. Before Jake knew what was happening, two sets of hands grasped him none too gently by the shoulders and waist and immediately pulled him right out of the locker as if he was simply a piece of luggage.

Jake opened his eyes again and blearily looked around to identify his tormentors. Even though he still wore his glasses, his vision was too unfocused at first to make anything out except that there were two boys with him; one dark-skinned and the other red-headed. But as his eyes slowly began to adjust and the two started talking, he realized that it was Chip and Greg who had roused him from his would-be sarcophagus.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Greg’s voice called to Jake as an unseen hand gently slapped him across the face several times; more to rouse him than to cause him any pain. “It took us longer to get here than we’d planned, so you’ve had plenty of time to sleep.”

“Hope you enjoyed it,” added Chip sardonically; “because that’s all the sleep you’re gonna get for the next two or three days.”

Jake looked wearily up at the small glazed window along the far wall, and saw that it was still pitch dark outside. His eyes cast around for a clock, and eventually found it; it read 1:15 – presumably in the morning. Good lord, it was the middle of the freaking night! No wonder he still felt so tired!

“Lemme ‘lone,” Jake muttered into his tape gag. “Lemme lie down. Wanna sleep.”

Although his words were mostly muffled, Greg and Chip got the gist of what Jake was trying to say.

“Awww… the little baby wants to lie down,” Chip said sarcastically.

“So, let’s give him what he wants,” Greg suggested.

Jake found himself led to the nearby bench he’d been strapped into before and then lifted up bodily to lie face up on top of it. A rope was tied around his lower legs and another around his arms and chest to keep him firmly in place, with no danger of falling off.

Jake was much too sleepy to really think things through and realize that this wasn’t really at all a good sign. He simply closed his weary eyes and attempted to go back to sleep.

A weight suddenly settled down on Jake’s chest. He opened his eyes in sudden wakeful alarm, and saw Greg straddling his chest; removing his own shirt and tossing it casually to one side. At the same time, Chip was casually arching a leg over him and sitting down on Jake’s midriff; removing his own shirt as well. Both boys now wore only a set of gym shorts, short ankle socks, and sneakers. In addition, Greg wore a bandanna while Chip wore a Saint Christopher medal around his neck.

“Whaddaya doin’?” Jake exclaimed barely audibly through his gag.

“You wanted a lie-down, so we’re letting you lie down,” Greg answered slyly. “No reason why we shouldn’t relax as well. So relax and enjoy your rest.”

As soon as he finished saying that, he proceeded to flick Jake’s nose with the forefingers of both hands; flicking both sides as hard and as fast as he could. To Jake, it was like getting stung by a swarm of angry hornets one at a time in rapid and relentless succession.

Jake cried out as loudly as he could (which could barely have been heard even from inside the locker room door, let alone anywhere outside of it – not that anyone was outside who could hear anything going on in here anyway). He tried to nod and shake his head in a vain attempt to get his nose away from those flicking fingernails, but it was no use. Jake could barely move his head in any direction, taped up as it was – and Greg was easily able to adjust his fingers to compensate and keep on flicking without a miss and almost without a pause in the rhythm of nose flicks. In fact, Jake’s feeble and futile attempts to evade his barrage of flicks only seemed to amuse Greg.

Jake began to squeal even louder in outrage as his mercilessly assaulted nose began turning a bright shade of red.

“You like that? Huh? You like that?” Greg asked Jake with a taunting smile as he continued his nasal barrage with apparently limitless energy and enthusiasm.

Jake could also see Chip’s smiling face looking down at him from over and behind Greg’s shoulder; evidently highly amused by Jake’s discomfort. “Too bad I can’t do much to him myself while he’s all taped up like this though,” Chip commented.

“Well, let’s get sleepy-head fully awake and then we can see what we can do about that situation,’ Greg suggested as he abruptly ceased flicking Jake’s beleaguered nose. But before the captive boy could begin to relax, Greg lifted up the palms of his hands and began to slap Jake in the ace; much harder than before – putting a good deal of force into every slap.

Jake’s squeals of protest grew even more pronounced, and his entire body began to writhe and thrash around in a futile attempt to get away. Were he not strapped into the bench with the weight of the other two boys pinning him firmly down, Jake’s thrashing around would likely have caused him to fall right off of the bench within seconds.

When Jake’s eyes began to fill with tears, Greg stopped slapping him. “Okay, we want to get that tape off of you and re-secure you in a different way,’ Greg told him. “So, do you prefer to cooperate and do exactly what we say, or shall I resume slapping while Chip here finds some creative way to torment you too? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind bouncing on that nice soft tummy of yours like one of those rubbery cushion toys for little kids like what you see on TV.”

Jake shook his head as much as he could (which wasn’t much) to indicate his willingness to comply with Greg’s directives. He was in fact ready to do anything to keep the youth (who had the trim but muscular arms of a welterweight boxer) to resuming slapping his face (which already felt like they were being jabbed by a thousand red hot needles on both sides).

Whether Greg honestly had trouble understanding Jake’s message or simply enjoyed slapping his face too much to give it up so easily, it would be hard to say. But, noticing an increasing swelling in Jake’s groin that his tight shorts didn’t really conceal very well, Jake was certain Greg was continuing to slap him just for the enjoyment of it.

Greg finally tired of the game however and desisted. He and Chip got off of their helpless captive and undid the ropes that held Jake securely onto the bench. Then the two boys each took a pair of scissors and – with great care – cut most of the tape off of Jake’s body. The task was rendered easier by the fact that Jake had been sweating rather profusely for hours; causing the tape adhering to his skin to lose most of its stickiness. However, this also released an odor into the room that made them decide to haul Jake back into the shower for additional de-odorizing.

Jake’s feet were hobbled and his wrists once again cuffed behind his back. He still wore only a set of speedos, his glasses, his restraints, a pair of socks inside his mouth, and the generous dollop of tape that had been left covering his mouth and lower face. After Greg and Chip changed down into their own speedos, Jake was led into the shower. His glasses were left on him but got steamed up immediately; preventing him from seeing much of anything. But he didn’t really need to see what he was doing, as he was really not doing anything; his two escorts bathed him themselves without any assistance from Jake just like before. Jake endured this with ill grace but kept silent, as the shower *did* make him feel much better and he didn’t want to give his captors reason to torment him further than they already planned to.

Chip and Greg toweled Jake dry and sat him on a bench and warned him sternly not to move while they changed back into the clothes they had arrived in. Then they each grabbed him by an arm and led Jake out of the locker room into the deserted hallway beyond; their way dimly but adequately lit by the occasional fluorescent bulb that was still glowing up in the ceiling.

Jake wondered where they were going, but he couldn't ask and his captors weren't volunteering the information.
The three boys did not go very far at all; simply down to the next room down the hall from the locker room. This was the boy’s bathroom. Greg and Chip walked Jake over to the nearest stall, pushed open the door, and stopped.

Greg took a key and released Jake’s right wrist from his handcuffs; leaving them locked and dangling on his left wrist however. “We’ll let you do your business in private, Jake,” Chip told him. “But no funny business. You’ve got five minutes. After that, if you’re not done, we’re going to go in there and give you a swirly! If you finish in time but try to fight us when you’re finished, we’ll do our own business in the toilet and *then* give you a swirly! In either case, the next time you need to go, you’ll be assisted rather than trusted to do it yourself! Understand?”

Jake nodded his head vigorously; he was still gagged and so could not answer any other way. However, he made it perfectly clear that he definitely did *not* want a swirly; and he much preferred to handle his equipment himself!

“Right, then; you’ve got five minutes,” Greg told him as he gave Jake a gentle shove into the stall and pulled the door shut after him.

Greg and Chip were courteous enough not to watch Jake do his ablutions, but they both remained close to the stall and stood facing it (with tis door closed) to make sure Jake tried nothing funny. However, at that moment Jake was interested only in relieving his aching bladder. His bowels also suddenly seemed to notice that conditions had changed, and urgent signals forced Jake to hasten to sit down.

Having no way to measure time, Jake worked as fast as he could. His time was still only half up when he emerged from the stall again. His captors smiled, said “Good work,” and allowed him to wash his hands at the nearby sink while his hands were still free.

“Okay, face away from us,” Chip bade him once his hands were washed. Jake did so immediately; knowing that resistance was futile when he was tired, hungry, thirsty, and outnumbered two-to-one by captors who were well rested and well-fed. The fact that his captors were fully clothed while he was naked except for a Speedo daunted him as well. It was as if they had every right to dominate him like this.

Chip walked behind Jake, grasped his wrists, and re-locked the handcuffs behind his back. Then, gripping one of Jake’s arms each in one of theirs, they grog-matched him out of the bathroom. Jake made no resistance; the fight had gone completely out of him.

Next stop was the nearby water fountain. Jake’s tape gag was carefully removed, the rubber ball stuffing his mouth was pulled out, and he was allowed to drink his fill of water. He couldn’t reach the button that triggered the flow of water himself however while his hands cuffed were behind him, but Chip pressed it for him as Jake bent down to drink in his fill of water in loud, greedy, slurping gulps. His mouth had certainly gotten dry during his captivity!

Then, in an unexpected gesture of generosity, his captors took him to a vending machine nearby, and allowed him to make a selection; paid for out of their own pocket change. Jake requested a candy bar, which Chip purchased and then duly fed him by hand; breaking off individual pieces and allowing Jake to grasp them with his teeth. Chip allowed him to eat slowly and savor every bite; evidently enjoying watching Jake eat out of his hands as much as Jake enjoyed the candy bar.

In fact, this was so amusing to Jake’s captors that Greg then selected a small pack of potato chips and insisted on feeding them one by one by hand to Jake as well. Jake made no protest; his hunger having long since overcome any sense of pride. He ate each chip from Greg’s fingers just as if he were a pet dog being given a treat.

After Jake was finished with the last morsel, he was allowed another drink of water from the fountain. As before, he bent down to drink from the water with his hands cuffed behind his back, but it was Greg who turned the water on for him.

Once Jake was done, back in went the rubber ball into his mouth, and then his captors covered his mouth and lower face with more generous applications of duct tape. Once they were finished, Jake was frog-marched further down the hall to a room at the very end.

This turned out to be the exercise room, which was equipped with equipment for boxing practice, weight lifting, and gymnastics of various kinds. The door was unlocked, and the three boys walked right in after Chip stepped to one side to turn on the light.

“After such a long rest, I’ll bet you could use some exercise,” Greg said to Jake with a wide grin as his two captors led him to a bench press and forced him to lie down on the long seat face up. “So now you’re going to do some weight lifting and help you get those arms and leg muscles into shape. Since strong leg muscles are important in soccer, let’s start with those.”

Chip removed the hobbles from Jake’s ankles, forced his ankles through the pressing slot where they would normally be fitted through, and then hobbled them again so that Jake could not pull his legs back out. Now essentially tethered to the machine, Jake watched as Chip set the amount of weights Jake would be able to press with his legs. He decided to start at 200 pounds.

“That should be easy for an athlete like you,” Chip said sardonically. “Give ‘em ten lifts, Jake, or we’ll have to punish you!”

Certain punishment was inevitable anyway; Jake put all his strength into his legs and did what he was told. Tired as he was, he managed the ten lifts without much effort; he’d leg-pressed considerably more weight than that before!

Smiling grimly, Chip added forty more pounds to the press and told Jake to do ten more lifts. This time the task was considerably harder, and it took just about all of Jake’s strength to lift that mass up and down ten times in a row without faltering.

Chip grunted in ill-concealed admiration (he wouldn’t have been able to do that much weight himself) but simply added two more twenty-pound weights to the mass; giving Jake a total of 280 pounds to lift. “Ten more lifts, tough guy,” he ordered.

Jake struggled to lift his legs up again. He managed the first one with great effort. The second one was even harder. The third one took everything he had left. The fourth time… he managed to lift his legs only a couple of inches before exhaustion forced him to let his legs fall back down again. The falling weights made a loud clacking noise.

“Come on, Jake! Lift!” Chip demanded.

Jake struggled to lift his legs back up, but he couldn’t’ budge them.

Chip suddenly stepped over Jake’s body and sat down on his chest. “Come on, you sissy! Lift those legs!” he demanded, and with a sadistic smile began slapping Jake’s face with both of his hands; not hard but enough to sting Jake’s face.

Grinning, Greg also stepped over Jake’s prone body and seated himself on the captive boy’s belly. He began bouncing up and down on his victim; squeezing all the air out of him.

Jake made one more supreme effort to lift his legs up as his tormentors demanded. He managed to accomplish one more lift and then gave up. From then on, he simply lay there with his arms trapped underneath him; unable to either defend himself or to comply with their demands to continue his leg presses.

“Not so tough now, are you hotshot?” Chip said tauntingly as he continued to slap his helpless victim’s face. “Okay, maybe your arms will be stronger!”

Jake’s captors got off him. Chip removed Jake’s hobbles just long enough to free him from being tethered to the bench-press, and turned him around on the seat so that Jake’s head was near the weights rather than his feet. His wrists were then cuffed to the gripping bars in such a way that he could not pull his wrists away but he could still grip the bars normally.

Greg placed 100 pounds of weights on the machine and spotted Jake, while Greg sat on Jake’s belly and compelled him to lift the weight or be bounced on. Jake hefted the weights up and down repeatedly. Every time he stopped Greg added another twenty pound weight. Jake would then be compelled to keeping pumping the weights until he was too tired to continue; and every time he stopped another twenty pound weight was added. Eventually the weights became too heavy for him to budge; whereupon both his tormentors sat on him again, taunted him, slapped his face and sides, and generally did their best to make him miserable while he was unable to fend them off. At one point Greg even tickled him mercilessly under his arms; making him laugh long and hard until he was also crying from exhaustion.

“Hey, let’s have a little boxing practice now,” Greg suggested. “I haven’t had a good punching bag since the last one got busted last week.”

“Good idea,” Chip replied as he got off Jake’s chest. “You go get the gloves and I’ll get Jake here set up for you.”

Greg got off of Jake’s belly, walked up to a metal cabinet nearby, opened it up, and pulled out a set of boxing gloves. At the same time, Chip freed Jake’s wrists from the bench press and walked him over to a sturdy metal frame. It looked like a miniature soccer goal, only there was no net. It was a rectangular frame made of rounded metal poles about two inches in thickness. It was seven feet high and three feet wide, with horizontal supports four feet long running at right angles to the frame acting as ‘feet’ to keep the metal framework upright. There was a large eye-hook dangling from underneath the center of the top portion, where Jake surmised a heavy punching bag was supposed to hang. All that hung from it down was a length of rope about three feet long.

Chip made Jake stand within the structure and turn around. He undid Jake’s handcuffs so that his wrists were in front of him rather than behind. He then relocked the handcuffs and tied the end of the dangling rope around its chain. A little manipulation of the rope and a few knots later, Jake’s arms were suspended securely above him. He was still standing on his feet, but he was tied to the heavy metal framework and was unable to step away from it. The most he could do was turn his body in either direction and move side to side or back and forth slightly.

Greg walked up to him with the boxing gloves on his hands and a huge grin on his dark face. “Time to try out my new punching bag,” Greg exclaimed cheerfully as he raised his fists and adopted the well-known stance of someone about to do some sparring.

Jake’s eyes flew wide-open with fear and he tried to beg for mercy, but his gag made his protests incomprehensible and barely audible.

Greg aimed a punch at Jake’s midriff. Alarmed, Jake managed to twist his body to the right just enough to avoid the blow entirely.

“Oh good; you’re going to make it a challenge!” Greg said cheerfully as he launched another, somewhat more well-aimed swing at Jake’s belly.

This time Jake pushed his body backward and to the left; causing Greg to miss again.

Greg wasn’t at all annoyed by Jake’s efforts to dodge. “Man, this is better than a regular punching bag,” he exclaimed with an evil grin. “And it’s gonna be even more satisfying when I get in some hits!”

This time Greg got down to business and began feints, jabs, and swings; dancing around and jabbing just as if he were facing a real (that is, unfettered) sparring partner or an opponent rather than a helpless (if human) punching bag. He began scoring some hits on Jake’s belly and chest; not hard enough to really hurt but still making his victim squeal in outrage through his gag. Smiling with grim satisfaction, Greg began aiming some blows directly to Jake’s head; again not with full force but enough to cause Jake considerable discomfort. Then he began pummeling Jake’s lower belly, working his way down as if ultimately intending to pummel Jake’s tender groin. But though he caused Jake some discomfort and more than a little fear, he never hit him hard enough to cause him any real damage beyond a few minor bruises. In light of Jake’s utter helplessness to fight back, just this pummeling was scary enough.

Greg used Jake as a punching bag for about half an hour before he decided to rest his arms and let Chip have a turn. Chip also pummeled Jake for a half hour. He hit less skillfully so that Jake (despite his exhaustion and pain) was able to dodge more easily, but he also hit harder so that each blow that *did* land on him hurt somewhat more than Chip’s punches had. By the time Chip finished, Jake had a number of tender bruises on his belly and chest, a cut lip, one eye that was turning black, and a slightly bloodied nose. These last three had been more or less unintentional, but Chip was hardly repentant about inflicting them. Greg however at least had the kindness to use first aid to treat Jake’s injuries before the two resumed tormenting him.

To Jake’s horror, his two tormentors now took him over to the trampoline. His hands cuffed behind his back again and his feet hobbled closely together, Jake tried to balk and turn back; whereupon his captors simply lifted him up bodily and tossed him onto it. Jake was still bobbing up and down in the center of the trampoline when Greg and Chip removed their sneakers and then gleefully climbed onto the trampoline themselves. They stood on either side of Jake where he lay; looking down at him and grinning as he looked back up at them fearfully.

Greg and Chip began to jump. Just lightly at first, but steadily harder and harder until they were jumping as if Jake as not there at all. Jake shuddered and closed his eyes; deciding that trying to roll away would be more dangerous to him than just remaining where he was. They jumped with seeming wild abandon all around him and sometimes came within inches of trampling on his body, but not once did their feet actually hit him. Greg and Chip were experts on the trampoline and knew exactly what they were doing. Hey wanted to simply put a scare into Jake rather than hurt him, and in that they succeeded.

A few times one or the other boys did a somersault; sometimes even doing so from one side of Jake’s prone body, spinning directly over him, and landing on the other side. Occasionally one or the other would tuck his legs partly underneath and land with a bounce directly over Jake; landing with their feet harmlessly to either side of him and lightly bouncing on some part of Jake with their posteriors (most of their weight on the trampoline with their feet rather than on Jake himself himself) before bouncing back up again. At one point Greg subjected Jake to several such bounces in a row; making it look like he was bouncing directly on Jake’s belly but actually only lightly pushing down upon him with each bounce; his legs took most of the force into the trampoline itself.

Jake himself found himself bouncing all around the place like a rag-doll; unable to help himself and striving to keep himself from falling off the trampoline or hitting the hard wooden edge of it. His seemingly reckless captors were much more watchful than they appeared to be however, and kept Jake from accidentally being hurt at any time. Jake soon realized that he wasn’t being hurt but merely being toyed with and he began feeling less tense; but he was still more than glad when his captors tired themselves out and quit their bouncing.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Greg said to Jake with a smile as he and Chip pulled him off of the trampoline at last. “Let’s take a break.”

Greg and Chip’s idea of a break was to lay Jake down face up on a wrestling mat and then sit on top of him; toweling the sweat off of their now-shirtless bodies with some towels they had brought. By this time however, Jake was too relieved not to be pummeled and bounced around anymore to complain about being used as a butt-rest; and simply lay on the mat quietly with neither sound nor wriggling of protest.

“What should we do next?” Chip asked his companion casually.

“We should probably take him for a walk,” Greg suggested. “No one will see us this time of night, and I’ll bet Jake could use some fresh air. He’s probably tired of the gym smell by this time too.”

“He’s not the only one,” Chip replied. “Okay, let’s take him to the locker room to put some shoes on his feet, and then take him out for a stroll. It’s pretty nice out anyway, and my legs could do with a stretch.”

Jake’s escort took him back to the locker room, where his two captors sat him down on a bench, brought his shoes and socks to him, and then released his wrists from his handcuffs. “Put on your footwear, and make it snappy if you don’t wanna go outside barefoot,” Greg told him.

Jake didn’t waste any time in complying; he had no objection in going outside at all. Although it was only three in the morning and the school was away from any houses, it was barely possible that a passing motorist or someone walking their dog might spot them and call the police or rescue him. In any case, walking would feel good after such long confinement inside his own locker followed by the subsequent tortures he had undergone.

Once he had his footwear on, Jake’s hands were cuffed behind him again. In addition, a dog collar was buckled onto his neck and a small, metal leash attached to it. Another leash was attached to the chain linking his handcuffs as well. Now tethered by both boys as well as hobbled, Jake was escorted out of the gymnasium and led outside onto the darkened school grounds for his early morning walk.

[blackbound]

Love it, especially the presence of minority characters (although if you know me I'd prefer it be them tied up and tormented...)

[Jason Toddman]

Love it, especially the presence of minority characters (although if you know me I'd prefer it be them tied up and tormented...)

That can be tricky because some folks would perceive racism in such a story, but i hear you. I have written a story where the guest of honor is a black boy in rural Georgia and his captors are white boys, but make it a point to explain that his race really is only coincidental (though he understandably doesn't believe them when they claim that). I may post that story here some day but i'd have to heavily rewrite it first - not because of the racial aspects but because it's a tad too sexually explicit for this site as it currently is.
Anyway, I myself prefer to write these as if I were the victim experiencing the bondage, and would find having non-whites just as appealing as captors as i would whites - all other things such as personalities and circumstances being equal. In part from the novelty value, as I grew up in an area that at the time was virtually all white, and would have found 'minority' boys to be a highly appealing novelty.
Anyway, here's the conclusion to the story.



Part 4.

It was half past three in the morning when Jake’s captors took him outside for his walk. It was still dark outside, but the night was still warm and dry enough to be comfortable against Jake’s skin despite how little clothing he wore. The night sky was clear and well-lit by a just-past-full moon low in the western sky. There was thus plenty of light to see by without the boys having to resort to using their flashlights, which might have attracted unwanted attention to them by any late-night passers-by such as policemen.

Jake was slowly walked around the school and then out into the athletic field. From there, his captors decided to lead him down a trail that ran through the woods, where they could exercise him to their heart’s content with no chance of any of them being seen by anyone else. The plan was to walk Jake for an hour or more and then take him back to the locker room before dawn, tie him down to a bench, and leave. There two of the others would find him and take their turns taking care of him while simultaneously tormenting him.

They were walking into a grassy field surrounded by trees on all sides about a mile from the school when Chip’s cell phone suddenly rang. “What the hell? Who’d be calling me at quarter-past four in the freaking morning?” he asked out loud in some concern. With some trepidation, he flipped open the phone to see who was calling before he picked up. Perhaps it was his parents; noticing he had slipped out and wondering where the hell he was. If so, he was in for some deep trouble!

But no, that wasn’t his parent’s phone number calling him; it was Charlie’s. That wasn’t much more reassuring; Charlie wouldn’t likely bother to call him just to check in to see how Jake was doing, would he? But then again, Charlie might merely be concerned that Chip and Greg weren’t taking their responsibilities seriously enough. After all, Charlie wasn’t really a bad guy; he wanted to tease and torment this over-confident Soccer playing wannabe team-member who’d made them all look like bumbling fools, but he most certainly did not want Jake to come to any real harm! He was probably just making sure Jake was being properly taken care of.

Chip clicked the talk button and put the phone up to his face. “Hello?” he said into it.

“Chip, this is Charlie,” the voice at the other said with uncharacteristic urgency. “Are you and Greg still with Jake?”

“Yeah, Charlie, we are,” Chip replied; feeling much calmer now; perhaps this was just a check-in, but Charlie sure sounded pretty nervous. “And he’s fine, if that’s what you want to…”

“Shut up and listen!” Charlie’s voice spoke loudly; cutting him off. “You and Greg get Jake out of there… right now! Don’t free him, but it’s important you two get him out of the building and as far from there as you can get! Got it?”

“Uhhh, actually we’re over a mile from there right now,” Chip replied, feeling much less casual; obviously something was going wrong. “We took him for a walk in the woods. We’re right by our old fishing spot along Jackson’s Brook, in fact.”

“You are?! Oh, thank God!” Charlie replied, sounded somewhat relieved. “Tell me, did you leave anything of yours behind that might indicate you’ve just been there? Anything at all?”

Chip thought for a moment. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied after a moment. “We parked our bikes at the edge of the woods by the school, but they’re where no one will see them unless they stumble right onto them. We cleaned up the locker room before we left. We dumped Jake’s clothes inside a locker. We shut off all the lights so that they wouldn’t attract attention. We locked the doors behind us when we left, just as you told us to. No, I don’t think anyone could tell anyone’s been there since yesterday afternoon if they were to go there now, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“That’s *exactly* what I’m asking you,” Charlie replied hastily, although he sounded much calmer now than he had. “The egg hit the fan. Jake’s mom had said she’d be away for the weekend, but apparently she got worried when Jake never called her back and she went home after all sometime around midnight to check on him. When she couldn’t find him, nor any evidence that he’d ever gone home yesterday, she panicked and called the police.

“Since she knew Jake was planning to come to the school to try out for the Soccer team, my dad was called just a while ago. Since he’s the coach, they know he has the keys to the school, and they want him to go over there and look for any signs of Jake. H’s just finished grilling me about the matter, and I told him we met Jake and let him play Soccer with us but it’s my dad who makes all the decisions like admitting players. He just left for the school to check the locker rooms. So, what’s he going to find when he gets there?”

“Well, all I can think of is Jake’s bike,” Chip replied after a moment’s thought. “He left it parked at the bike rack near the Soccer field. Other than that, there’s nothing. At least, there’s nothing there to indicate Greg and I have just been there, I’m certain. Even if they find Jake’s clothes in that locker, that only proves he was there this afternoon, and that we let him use one of the lockers.”

“Okay then; good,” Charlie replied. “That’ll be easy to explain away. There’s nothing to link Jake’s disappearance with us then.”

“Except Jake himself,” Chip pointed out. “Once we let him go free, he’s likely to blab.”

“I’ll worry about that later,” Charlie replied. “Meanwhile, it’s getting light out soon. You two tie Jake to a tree or something and head on home to get some sleep. Nick and Phuong were supposed to take their turns with Jake around nine in the morning. I’ll tell them where they can find him, and they’ll take over from there. Just make sure you secure Jake well enough so that he can’t get away and rat us out! And make sure he can’t call for help either!”

“You can count on us, Charlie,” Chip replied reassuringly. The two said their goodbyes. Chip clicked the End Call button, and put his phone back into his belt clip.

“Well, change in plan,” he warned Greg. “We’ll have to leave Jake out here until a couple of the others can get out here and take over for us.” He explained the rest of the details as the two of them selected a suitable tree to secure Jake to.

Jake started to resist when his two captors led him to a suitable tree, and began to make insistent noises through his gag. He wanted to beg Greg and Chip to simply please let him go, and that he’d swear to never ever tell anyone anything about this if they simply freed him. But Chip and Greg were already pretty sure what Jake wanted to tell them and weren’t interested; even assuming they could believe Jake (which was a mighty big assumption right there), they weren’t ready to risk Charlie’s certain wrath. So Greg simply gave Jake a couple of hard slaps to the face and threatened to start really hurting him if he didn’t quit trying to fight them.

With a quiet moan of resignation, Jake quit resisting and allowed himself to be led to a small birch tree that was largely surrounded by tall leafy bushes. “This will do pretty well,” Chip decided. “It’s small enough to get his wrists around, and even if anyone were to go walking out here he’d be hard to spot from more than forty feet away. So let’s get him secured and go home.”

The two boys stood Jake up against the tree and then had him sit down on the ground with his back against the trunk. Greg straddled Jake’s legs and clutched Jake’s throat with one hand and held his other arm back with his fist clenched as if ready to punch him. “Now you sit there and don’t move while Chip readjusts your handcuffs,” Greg warned him. “If you move in any way I think is an attempt to wiggle away, I’ll belt you right in the nose!”

Jake looked wide-eyed at Greg, and didn’t move a muscle (except to tremble slightly). The other boy behind him released one of his wrists for a moment, adjusted Jake’s wrists so that his arms were wrapped behind him around the small tree trunk, and then re-locked his handcuffs so that Jake was tied to the tree. There was another sapling less than three feet away, around which Jake’s ankles were re-hobbled; leaving his arms and legs secured to two separate trees.

The boys had brought their knapsacks containing extra ropes. Not being satisfied with the handcuffs and hobbles and seeing no reason to let the ropes go entirely to waste, Jake’s captors proceeded to use the rope to tie his arms, shoulders and torso even more securely to the tree trunk his back rested against. They then took two towels they also had with them; using one as a cushion between Jake’s head and the tree trunk and the other to tie Jake’s head so securely to the tree that he couldn’t move his head in any direction. It was definite overkill, but the boys enjoyed themselves and it only took a few minutes. By the time they were finished, Jake was unable to love a muscle other than his eyelids.

Greg and Chip tested Jake’s bonds by the tried and true method of squatting beside him and tickling him under his ribs for a few minutes. When Jake’s frantic attempts at escape proved entirely fruitless, they were satisfied that their captive was going nowhere without outside help. After a few minutes of idle torture involving nose flicks, nipple twists, face slaps, and the like, Greg and Chip decided to call it a night (although night was now rapidly giving way to dawn).

“So long, Jake!” Greg called to their captive as they began to walk away; waving farewell to him with a wide grin on his face. “I hope the bears don’t get you.”

“Tell Nick and Phuong we said hello,” added Chip as he waved goodbye also. Then, completely ignoring Jake’s attempts to call to them, they turned away and rapidly walked away. They were out of sight in seconds, but Jake could still hear their voices as they talked with each other. But their voices also quickly faded with increasing distance, and soon Jake heard nothing at all. He was left all alone in the woods.

Jake was more annoyed than scared. He knew despite Greg’s cheerful goodbye joke that there were no bears within a hundred miles of the spot; not any other animals more dangerous than garter snakes, spiders, and coyotes. He knew he’d only be left alone here for only a few hours before some of the other kids from the Soccer team came for him. He was somewhat thirsty, hungry, tired, and needed to take another pee; but overall he felt much less discomfort or fright than he had while trapped inside that locker earlier in the night. Despite their evident desire to torment and tease him, at least his captives weren’t truly trying to harm him. Surely they’d eventually have to let him go free, and then that would hopefully be the end of it.

Resigned to spending at least the next few hours here tied to these trees, Jake decided to simply relax and get some rest. It wasn’t easy, but the fact that his head was tied in place so that he couldn’t nod (and consequently giving him adequate neck support) actually helped; with no sensation of his head falling as he dozed off, Jake was actually able to fall asleep well before the sun rose.

Jake slept for hours before a few light slaps to the face roused him again. He opened his eyes sleepily, and saw three other boys squatting on their heels in front of him. Waking rapidly, he recognized them as Nick, Phuong, and Frank.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Frank said to him as he reached out and began to peel away the tape gag covering his mouth. “I hope you’re glad to see us!”

Jake was indeed happy to see them, but the towel tied to the top of his head prevented him from nodding in acknowledgement, nor could he speak while the rubber ball still plugged the inside of his mouth. But Frank didn’t seem to care about the answer to his question in any case; he simply rambled on while he removed the tape gag.

“We’re gonna give you something to eat and drink and give you a chance to relieve yourself, and then we’re all heading out,” he told Jake as he removed the last of the tape. “Open up and I’ll take that rubber ball out for you.”

Jake was more than happy to comply with that particular order. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly as he tentatively worked his lower jaw to get the kinks out of it.

“We’re taking you to my house,” Frank replied. “Unlike your lying mom, my folks actually *are* away for the weekend visiting relatives. So you can spend the rest of the weekend there and relax. Here, drink this,” he added as he held a bottle of cold spring water up to Jake’s lips. “Bet you’re pretty thirsty by this time.”

Phuong had untied the towel that kept Jake’s head rigidly immobile; allowing Jake to nod his head and drink slowly from the bottle. “Look, can’t you let me go now?” Jake pleaded after he had drunk a few sips of water. “Please? I promise I won’t tell anyone. Honest! Especially if you really let me into the Soccer team! I wouldn’t want to bust up the team, after all!”

“No can do, pal!” Frank said to him with obviously fake sincerity and he took a fresh cellophane-wrapped ham sandwich out of his backpack, unwrapped it, and held it to Jake’s mouth. “Keeping you captive is way too much fun. Besides, Charlie would bust my jaw if I did that without his say-so. Nope, you’re stuck with us until Charlie says otherwise! Now eat this sandwich and let’s get a move on.”

Jake was too hungry to argue, even had he thought it would do any good. Despite his anxiety about remaining captive to these boys, he was too hungry to let pride get in the way of being fed. He tamely bit a piece out of the sandwich Frank held for him and ate as if he were feeding himself at home, and took a sip from the water bottle when it was offered to him.

While was being given his food and water, Phuong and Nick were untying the ropes that bound him to the tree. Once Jake was finished, they released the cuffs from one wrist, allowed Jake to place his wrists in front of himself, and reconnected it again. Then they took one of the ropes and wound it around Jake’s waist and crisscrossed around his wrists and handcuffs; tying his wrists so firmly to his front that he could not move them move than an inch or two away from his body. The hobbles were released long enough to free his feet from the other tree and then relocked. Freed from both trees, Jake was allowed to stand on his own two feet.

“I assume you need to relieve yourself?” Frank asked Jake as he connected another rope to his collar to use as a leash. Jake nodded silently in affirmation, even though his gag hadn’t been replaced yet. “Number one, two, or both?” Frank asked.

“Both,” Jake replied.

“Can it wait an hour until I get you home, or is it an emergency?” Frank continued.

“Emergency!” Jake replied, who was beginning to hop up and down in his urgency.

“Okay, I figured that might happen,” Frank replied as he dug into his knapsack and pulled out a roll of toilet paper. “Here; go behind those bushes and do what you need to do. No one here will watch you, so don’t worry. Just know that if you try to give us the slip, we WILL chase you down, and with those hobbles on we WILL catch you before you can get very far. And when we DO catch you we’ll beat the living snot out of you! I assume I make myself perfectly clear?”

“I’m not stupid,” Jake replied with as much annoyance as he dared let creep into his voice. “I know I haven’t a hope in Hell of escaping from you way the hell out here.” He proceeded to walk away and looked for a good spot out of sight of the others; the long rope leash giving him plenty of room to roam. He found a good spot behind a large oak tree, found a log he could sit on with his butt hanging over the edge, pulled down his Speedos, sat down, and did his business as rapidly as he could. Despite Frank’s assurances about not being watched, Jake felt self-conscious and wanted to get this over with as rapidly as possible.

When Jake returned, Frank gave him a pre-packaged moist towelette to clean his fingers and hands with, and then one of the towels used to secure his head to the tree to wipe them dry. Once he was done, Frank placed the towels inside his knapsack and put it back on.

“Okay, open your mouth wide,” he told Jake as he held the rubber ball (freshly cleaned of its drool with some water from the bottle poured on it and wiped dry) out to him. Jake knew that there was no point resisting as did as he was told. In went the ball, and then on went some fresh new layers of duct tape to cover his mouth again.

“Okay, let’s go,” Frank said as he gave Jake’s rope leash a gentle tug.

And so Jake followed his three new captors down the forest trail.

******

It was about nine in the morning when Jake was taken away in a new direction by his three rescuers/captors. Sunday lived up to its name on this particular occasion; as there was not a cloud in the sky and the sun blazed bright and hot. It was hot even for late May( it felt more like July), and all three of Jake’s captors were beginning to sweat from their exertions even though all were dressed lightly in shorts and tank-tops. Jake himself soon forgot about the chill of the previous night and became almost glad he was wearing nothing more than a Speedo, socks, and sneakers. Almost.

The four boys walked quickly and quietly down various forest trails; alert for any signs that anyone else might be nearby on an early morning stroll. Frank, Nick and Phuong spoke only in terse whispers to one another as they conducted Jake through the woods; listening for but never once hearing the sound of other human voices. For a half hour they all walked; hearing and seeing nothing except the usual sounds of a forest that was adjacent to a quiet suburban neighborhood on a late summer Sunday morning.

Frank and his two friends visibly began to relax when they reached a certain point that was apparently familiar to them all. They passed several signs indicating that the area they were approaching was posted. “We’re safe now,” he told the others. “My folks own this land, and no one else ever comes here. We’ll be at my house in another few minutes.”

But Jake wasn’t taken directly into Frank’s house. Instead, he was taken to a small corrugated metal shed separated from Frank’s house by the length of a large backyard. There were no windows in the structure except for a horizontal slit six inches high and several feet long that ran just below the flat ten-foot-high roof. The only entrance was a small metal door to one side that was padlocked shut.

Frank pulled out a key from his pocket, opened the padlock, yanked it out of its hasp, and swung open the door with a rusty metallic creak. The shed was half-occupied with all sorts of junk; leaving little space in the cramped interior. There was however a discarded old twin-sized mattress in the center to which Jake was promptly taken. Frank accorded Jake a modicum of mercy by allowing Jake lie on the mattress face down while his captors removed his handcuffs. The mattress was old, damp and a bit musty smelling, but it also allowed Jake to feel the most comfortable he had since the torturous weekend began.

“Take your shoes and socks off,” Frank told Jake suddenly. “You won’t be going anywhere for a while, so you may as well be comfortable.”

Jake wasn’t sure how much hope to take from that statement but immediately did what he was told. All that was left to him was his Speedo, but by this time it was so warm – especially inside this sunbaked shed – that this caused him no discomfort at all.

Jake’s hands were not left free for very long. Frank produced what seemed like miles of old rope from another one of the numerous boxes that had been stowed inside the shed. “I always preferred rope to handcuffs myself,’ Frank said almost conversationally to Jake as he handed several coils of rope to Nick and Phuong. “Handcuffs may be quicker and more secure, but I think rope ties have a more personal touch. Rope is more versatile. It allows a person to be more creative. Good rope-work is an art. And since we have so much of it here, why let it go to waste?”

Frank, Nick, and Phuong then spent the next ten minutes demonstrating their skills at rope-work; or male macramé as Nick liked to call it. Coil upon coil was looped around Jake’s wrists, lower arms, elbows, upper arms, over and under his arms, around his shoulders, chest, and belly, and then all around his legs. They were not simply ties but formed an almost elegant pattern that was as pleasing to the eye as it was tight and secure around Jake’s body from his upper chest down to his feet. By the time his captors had finished with him, he was literally cocooned in an elaborate set of rope-work inside which he could barely move a muscle below his neck, with his arms pinned firmly to his sides and even his fingers tied immovably together. Secure and restrictive as it was however, the result was far from uncomfortable. It almost felt like being tucked inside a comfortable old sleeping bag.

“There, that shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,” Frank said as he and his two helpers stepped back and looked at their handiwork with satisfaction.

“Let’s make sure he’s secure,” Phuong suggested as he squatted down by Jake’s bare feet; the only part of him other than his head and neck that showed clearly outside of the ropes. Jake knew what was coming and tried to brace himself for it as Phuong extended his hands and fingers to his unprotected soles. But his defenses immediately broke down as Phuong began a five-minute tickle torture assault.

Jake writhed and thrashed inside his bonds and screamed into his gag as he frantically tried to escape – or at least evade Phuong’s tickling fingers. But all his efforts were in vain and were so completely defeated by the sheer mass of ropes that bound him that he hardly seemed to be moving at all.

“Okay, I’m satisfied,” Phuong finally announced with a grin as he desisted in his tickle torture and stood up again.

“Right then, let’s all go home and try to catch up on our sleep,’ Frank suggested. “I’ll tend to our guest myself once I’m fully awake again.”

And with that, Jake’s captors waved goodbye to Jake and walked out of the shed. The door was closed with a metallic scrape and a clang, and Jake could hear the sound of the padlock being re-inserted into its hasp. He could hear Frank talking with the other two boys for a few seconds as all three walked away from the shed, and then all was silence once more.

Jake’s thoughts drifted over the experiences of the last two days. At first he had been terrified at the situation he’d found himself in, and then angry. By now… now it didn’t really seem all too bad. In fact, he realized as he tried (and failed) once again to move his arms and loosen his bonds, this was getting to be kind of fun. There was an intense thrill being kept tied like this that Jake had never experienced or even imagined before (except for playing Soccer as part of the school team anyway). It was highly pleasurable, and it gradually but steadily dawned on him that he was really beginning to enjoy this. There was something completely relaxing about being tied up and unable to do anything about it as we awaited his captors’ return.

The small narrow window was uncovered and opened to let in light and air, so it was neither too dark nor too stuffy inside the shed for comfort. Still tired from his recent experiences and finding the old mattress more comfortable than anywhere else he’d been in over 36 hours, a still-gagged but now calm and relaxed Jake soon drifted off into a deep sleep.

Jake awoke hours later to a sudden unexpected noise. Now feeling fairly well-rested, Jake’s eyes alertly flew open just as the shed door was pulled open with another loud metallic screech. Frank re-entered the shed carrying a picnic basket. He was closely followed by Charlie; the soccer team captain who had begun this entire ordeal turned epiphany in the first place.

Frank crouched down beside Jake to remove his gag and offer him a drink from a water bottle while Charlie pulled up an empty wooden crate and sat down upon it facing Jake.

“So Jake…” Charlie began with what was evidently meant as a friendly grin (but which looked rather sheepish-looking), “how are you enjoying your initiation so far?”

“Uhhh… it’s not been so bad,” Jake replied noncommittally after drinking several mouthfuls of water. “In fact, it’s been a lot easier than I thought it would be,” he continued (not quite untruthfully) with a sudden smile.

“Really?” Charlie replied quietly; apparently having expected a somewhat different and probably much louder reaction.

“Yeah,” Jake replied with more confidence than he’d felt since he demonstrated his soccer skills to his prospective tram-mates. “Surely you’re not going to take it this easy on me.”

Charlie paused for a moment; looking nonplussed at first but then smiled in evident relief. “Well, actually – yes I am. Oh, I’d planned to give you a really rough time today, for sure. I’m afraid you made the rest of us kind of jealous; you being so good at soccer and still just a kid and all. And my dad’s the coach. I’ll admit that… well, I was afraid he’d take a shine to you and spend less time with me if he ever found put about you. So I planned an initiation that I hoped would scare you into agreeing to stay the heck away from the team and keep quiet about all this if only we’d finally let you go.

“But, well… there are two reasons for me not to. First, your mom’s come back home earlier than you said she would, and she’s raising Cain wondering where you are. Second though, the rest of us have talked and we decided that you’re simply too good to drive away from the team just because of our own selfish reasons. Sooo… how does this sound? You agree to let bygones be bygones and don’t tell anyone what’s been going on. You’ll just tell your mom and everyone else that you were just staying over with Frank for the weekend and that you’re fine. We’ll untie you and take you home, and tomorrow introduce you to my dad so that he can induct you into the soccer team himself for real. Once he sees what you can do, you’ll be a star member of the team for sure. You might even make captain after I graduate next year.”

Jake mulled it over for a moment and then smiled. “Sounds good to me… on one condition!” he finally replied.

“Uhhh… what’s that?” Charlie asked nervously as he braced himself for what he was sure would be an extortionate demand.

“Well… Jake began hesitantly; “this whole week-end has taken a little getting-used-to, but it’s gotten to be a lot of fun. So I was thinking that if I could call my mom and let her know I’m okay, and that I was just spending the weekend at my friend Frank’s house, she’d let me stay over the rest of the weekend,” Jake answered with growing confidence. “Then we could just carry on with whatever you originally were planning to do.”

Charlie and frank exchanged glances and then grinned in relief as they began untying Jake from his intricate bonds. “I think something like that can be easily arranged,” Charlie assured him. “I can even get your clothing and other stuff from the school locker so that you’ll have it when you go home tomorrow.”

“And would it be possible that we could all do this again sometime?” Jake continued.

“Maybe even more than once, if you really want to,” Charlie replied casually.

“Actually, I was thinking maybe every weekend,” Jake finally suggested after a moment; deciding to go for the brass ring.

“Kid, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Charlie replied happily. And so, as soon as Jake’s hands were free, they shook hands on the deal.

One phone call to a relieved mother and thirty minutes later, Jake found himself securely staked out on the sunny lawn of Frank’s backyard; lying on a large towel and soaking up the sun’s rays. Frank – with the aid of his two kid brothers Jesse (12) and James (10) – found fresh ways to torment him while Charlie called the rest of his team-mates for a happy get-together.

It was going to be a really fun Memorial Day weekend after all!

[The slave]

this little Jake has really a lot of chances I want to be in his place lol

[Jason Toddman]

this little Jake has really a lot of chances I want to be in his place lol

Me too!

[Johnsnow]

What a good, happy ending!

[Jason Toddman]

What a good, happy ending!

Yes, I've always preferred those. Real life has enough crappy endings already; I don't need them in anything I read or write.

[Xtc]

Jessie 7 James, huh? You use the same techniques as I do to keep track of my character names.
Thanks for the contribution. As I have said: we don't have enough innocent, youthful tie up tales at present..

[Jason Toddman]

Jessie 7 James, huh? You use the same techniques as I do to keep track of my character names.
Thanks for the contribution. As I have said: we don't have enough innocent, youthful tie up tales at present..

???
Is this in response to something i missed?

[Xtc]

Should have been "Jesse & James".

[Jason Toddman]

Should have been "Jesse & James".

I'm just as much in the dark as before.

[Xtc]

As in the outlaw.

I use Dave & Stewart (as in Eurythmics musician) and Rob & Roy (as in MacGregor) to help me remember the lads in the Longholme Island stories.

[Jason Toddman]

As in the outlaw.

I use Dave & Stewart (as in Eurythmics musician) and Rob & Roy (as in MacGregor) to help me remember the lads in the Longholme Island stories.

I got the reference to Jessie James but not why you made the reference to him here on my thread.
Still don't tbh. Maybe I'm just not thinking clearly today.

[Xtc]

One phone call to a relieved mother and thirty minutes later, Jake found himself securely staked out on the sunny lawn of Frank’s backyard; lying on a large towel and soaking up the sun’s rays. Frank – with the aid of his two kid brothers Jesse (12) and James (10) – found fresh ways to torment him while Charlie called the rest of his team-mates for a happy get-together.

It was going to be a really fun Memorial Day weekend after all!

[Jason Toddman]

One phone call to a relieved mother and thirty minutes later, Jake found himself securely staked out on the sunny lawn of Frank’s backyard; lying on a large towel and soaking up the sun’s rays. Frank – with the aid of his two kid brothers Jesse (12) and James (10) – found fresh ways to torment him while Charlie called the rest of his team-mates for a happy get-together.

It was going to be a really fun Memorial Day weekend after all!

Oh yeah. I forgot about them.
Remember, I wrote this years ago and only skimmed over this lightly to check for spelling and grammatical errors.

[Xtc]

Ah, but you must remember that I read stories like Trump reads the Bible - - - looking for loopholes.

[Jason Toddman]

Ah, but you must remember that I read stories like Trump reads the Bible - - - looking for loopholes.

I think he reads everything he doesn't agree with for that reason... including as the U.S. Constitution.