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Paul's Revenge This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The story so far: Hi! My name is Mark and I am the Patrol Leader of the Eagles. My little band consists of just me and the four young tenderfoots that I collectively refer to as the munchkins. In my previous story, I described how Paul, the Patrol Leader of the Ravens, was captured and forced to reveal his secrets with the unsolicited help of Buster, the troop dog. Here we learn how Paul plotted his revenge, which did not turn out quite as he expected. Encamped just a few fields across from us were our local company of Girl Guides which comprised of all the fair (well, mostly) maidens of our village. They were under the direction of the redoubtable Miss Cholmondley-Smythe. The aforesaid lady had the build and bearing of one of the miniature carthorses which she bred as a hobby and a voice like the Beachy Head foghorn but with braying quality associated with the English aristocracy. She was fiercely protective of what she referred to as ‘my gals’. Fraternisation between the camps was naturally strictly forbidden. They were separated by watch towers, barbed wire entanglements and a minefield – well not really, but there were nightly patrols by Miss Cholmondley-Smythe which amounted to the same thing. What has all this to do with our story? Well, I was hopelessly in love with one of the Guides, a beauty a year older than myself – Amanda . I had never actually spoken to her, I was far too shy and self-conscious for that and as far as I knew she wasn’t even aware of my existence. But I had long admired (the vulgar would say lusted after) her from afar. Paul was well aware of my infatuation and planned to seek his revenge by this route. Thus it was that I came to be sitting alone by the fire contemplating the fair Amanda. The munchkins had been lured away by the promise of an illicit raid on the tuck shop. So deep was I in my amorous fantasy that I failed to notice the stealthy approach of Paul and the rest of the Ravens. Grossly outnumbered, I was only able to offer a token resistance as cloth gag was forced into my mouth and my hands were tightly and expertly bound behind my back. I was swiftly spirited away to the seclusion of the Raven’s site. They had clearly planned in advance what was happen next, and outnumbered as I was, there was little I could do to resist. I was efficiently stripped down to my underwear (mercifully fresh that day lest I be run over by a bus). My hands were pulled above my head and tied off to a convenient branch, legs pulled apart and secured to handily placed trees. I was stretched out and utterly vulnerable. Only then did Paul reveal what my fate was to be. “We are going to take you to see Amanda,” he said. “With any luck you’ll spend the night over there.” An icy cold ball of fear seemed to settle in my stomach. This was going to be humiliating! “But first,” continued Paul, “we have to get you smartened up. Can’t have Amanda seeing you looking all scruffy like that – get to work, boys.” And they did. I was first washed ALL over, VERY thoroughly, although naturally only icy cold water was available. My hair was shampooed and very considerately, they restyled my usual trendy, but raffishly casual coiffure into atrocious pudding basin style that went out of fashion with the Romans. They then plastered it down with a copious application of Brylcreem. My stylish briefs, which I had carefully selected to show off my assets to best advantage, were replaced by a pair of baggy draws. “Just in case you get lucky!” they said. I was drenched in gallons of an after-shave that smelt like you would imagine a Turkish brothel to smell like (not that I would know). The outfit was completed with: • A pair of grey school flannel shorts that came down to well below the knee I had been transformed into the nerd from hell!! I was then re-bound at ankles, knees, wrists and arms. Securely gagged with a cloth gag topped off with a nerdish looking but effective layer of sellotape, I was unceremoniously dumped into a wheelbarrow to await transport to the Guides site. As a final touch a label was hung around my neck proudly announcing me as “A gift for Amanda.” It was after 9 o’clock and getting quite dark as we completed our cautious approach to the Guide’s site. The Guides were gathered around the camp fire, the singing being led by Miss Cholmondley-Smythe in a voice so stentorian that woodland creatures for miles around had abandoned their burrows. The plan was that under the cover of the camp fire I was to be smuggled in to Amanda’s tent, and then as soon as the girls retired for the night, the Ravens would lurk at the rear of the tent to witness my subsequent discovery and humiliation. I was duly carried into the tent and concealed beneath a laid out sleeping bag, the Ravens then retreated to a safe distance to await lights out. Naturally, I did a lot of wriggling and mmmphh-ing but was too well tied to achieve much except to make myself hot and sweaty. I could hear Miss Cholmondley-Smythe’s voice booming out as she closed the camp fire. “Now gals, I have been invited to take supper with Mr Wilson, the Scout leader, so I shall be out of camp for a couple of hours. I expect lights out in 10 minutes – no high jinks now –, I am sure you will all behave as is proper for Guides and young ladies.” In the next episode we find out what happened when I was discovered by the Guides. © Copyright Cinched 2009
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