The Class War - Part 2
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 Class War remains the property of the author. The story or characters may not be reproduced or republished elsewhere without the expressed written consent of the author.
Algy and Will whirled around to see who had spoken. Behind them they saw two older lads, perhaps of about 15 years. They were dressed similarly to Ned but in addition they wore flat cloth caps. Algy spoke first.
“Who the hell are you? This is private land, don’t you know. And you are trespassing here. Now go about your business, or I’ll fetch my pater and have you horsewhipped!”
The two newcomers did not seem unduly perturbed by Algy’s outburst. The one who had spoken first looked Algy up and down slowly, a slow smile sliding across his face.
He spoke quietly.
“Well now sir, my name is Joe Miller and this here is Ben Miller,” indicating his companion. “And that there, with his breeches down, is our brother Ned. Now I’ll grant you sir, that Ned can be a little imp, but I’ll not suffer to see him beaten, sir. So if you’ll just see your way clear to returning his belt we can all be on our way.”
At this point Algy made a serious mistake. “You damn impudent lout!” he shouted, swinging a wild punch at Joe’s head. Joe calmly sidestepped the wild swing and in one smooth movement swept Algy’s legs from under him and swiftly knelt on the back of the fallen aristocrat to immobilise him. At the same instant Ben had firmly grasped Will by the elbows and forced him to his knees.
“It seems my lord that you are not the gentleman that I took you for,” said Joe. “I fear that we will have to detain you for a while to impart a lesson in good manners.”
Will, with one arm twisted behind his back, was forced to release the bound and debagged Ned whilst Joe sat on top of a fuming, sputtering but impotent Algy. The three village lads then set about binding their two prisoners. Hands were forced behind their backs and wrists securely bound with baling twine that was produced from pockets. The ropes that Algy and Will had used to secure Ned were now tied firmly around their chests and arms and securely cinched immobilising their upper bodies.
Their protests and threats of terrible retribution were silenced with kerchief gags. To Algy’s disgust his gag was the same kerchief which had so recently filled Ned’s mouth. For his part, Ned capered around them like a thing possessed, shouting encouragement at his elder brothers, and abuse at his former tormentors.
“Where shall we take them, Joe?” said Ben. “The old barn on Longacre Farm, I think. It’s got all the stuff we need and nobody ever goes up there.” And so the pair of humbled aristocrats was marched off to meet their fate, assisted by frequent shoves from an over-excited Ned. For their own part, Algy and Will were secretly not overly dismayed by the turn of events.
After all they had set out that morning intending to enjoy tying each other, and the fact that it was now being inflicted by strangers over whom they had no control added a certain frisson to the sensation. True, there was some concern that the unendurable torture might in fact turn out to be unendurable, but they felt they could endure that.
The five boys marched into the old barn. Algy looked around. It was hot, dry and dusty. The only light was from brilliant beams of sunlight that streamed in through the open doors and gaps in the wooden walls. Their footsteps echoed loudly in big empty space. A few old straw bales were scattered around and in one corner a heap of saddlery and horse tack had been carelessly discarded. He noted gloomily that the floor was littered with many discarded lengths of baling twine.
“Now sirs,” said Joe, addressing Algy and Will, “those are fine expensive suits that you are wearing and we don’t want to get them all dusty, do we? I’m afraid we are going to require you to disrobe as far as your undergarments.” He held up a hand to silence the indignant mumbling noises that emanated from their gagged mouths.
“Look,” he said, “you can cooperate, or you can resist, which will be uncomfortable, undignified and dirty, but either way in just a jiffy you will be disrobed.” Algy realized that bound and outnumbered as he was by three other lads he stood no chance. His hands were untied and he reluctantly stripped off his jacket, shirt, knickerbockers and footwear and stood before his captors in just his drawers and singlet.
“Look here, you louts,” he said, “I’m not afraid of a thrashing if that’s what you’re planning. At school we get thrashed jolly often!” Joe smirked a little. “Oh indeed sir, I’m sure you do. I’ve heard tell that at those posh schools they are very partial to beating people. I’ve also heard tell that some of the lads get quite fond of it too!” Ben and Ned sniggered at this.
Joe continued, “But you see sir, we have something different in mind. Don’t hold with beating people, we don’t. Get too much of that from our Pa.” So then it was not to be a beating, Algy wondered with a nervous flutter what they did have in mind.
Following directions from Joe, the two younger brothers took hold of Algy and forced him to sit on the floor with his back to one of the wooden pillars which supported the roof. His hands were drawn behind the pillar and tightly secured by a binding around the wrists. A tight rope around his upper body pulled his shoulders snugly back against the pillar.
His legs were then drawn out in front of him and bound at the ankles and knees. A short length of twine was used bind his toes together. Finally darkness descended as a cloth blindfold was tied tightly over his eyes. As he sat in darkness unable to move he heard the muffled protests and bumps that indicated that Will was being given a similar treatment.
“Now gentlemen, we are going to leave you for a short time while we gather some equipment,” came Joe’s voice. “Enjoy yourselves.” The clatter of footsteps faded away and the two boys were left alone in the darkness. They could call out to each other but not see.
“Are you all right, Algy? I say, this is a rum do, isn’t it? What do you think they plan to do with us?”
“Lord knows, some fiendish torture I should imagine. We had best try to get away while they are gone.”
And so the boys struggled and squirmed and grunted and heaved but all to no avail. The bindings were too tight and the knots all just out of reach. Algy found it strangely exciting to be helplessly struggling in the sweaty atmosphere of the dark barn, unable to see, and knowing that soon his captors would return to inflict some torment on him.
He never heard them return, they must have removed their boots and crept quietly in. He felt a light touch on the bare sole of his foot and instinctively jerked away. But the touch returned, more insistently this time – a fingernail lightly running up and down his tender soles. He squirmed, trying to pull his bound feet away, but the touch followed.
Now there were several fingers probing and tickling at the most sensitive spots. He was jerking convulsively in his bonds, thrashing to and fro, trying desperately to remove his helpless feet from the insistent scratching of the unseen fingers. He found himself giggling hysterically and shouting half formed pleas to his tormentors.
And then quite suddenly it stopped and he slumped in his bonds gasping with relief. But the relief was short lived, the fingers were replaced by something else- now the entire sole of his foot was ablaze with an unbearably intense sensation. Dimly, he recognized the feel of a stiff brush being slowly drawn across his sensitive flesh.
The touch was unbearable, but no matter how he thrashed and jerked he could not escape it. Then, when he thought he could bear no more and must surely die of laughter, the torture was compounded. Unseen hands sought out the tender spots on his ribs, sides and stomach and added to the tide of sensory stimulation that was threatening to overwhelm him.
After ten minutes of this he was drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted and possessed of a desperate need to pass water.
Joe’s voice spoke in his ear, “A word of apology to young Ned here could see this matter soon completed, sir.” Algy thought it over. Yes, he could be defiant, but things could only go downhill from here. Besides, a new idea was forming in his mind concerning how tables might be turned.
“Very well, I’ll make the apology,” he said. And so it came to pass that the honourable Algernon Philip Cuthbertson and his companion made a handsome and gentlemanly apology to Ned Miller for the wrongs he had suffered at their hands. On their part, the Millers were magnanimous in victory, untying the two gentlemen, offering refreshment from a pitcher of water they had fetched, and allowing the gentlemen to dress and relieve themselves at the door of the barn.
Joe spoke, “And now I suppose you will return to the big house and tell his Lordship how you have been used, and he will send his men down to the village to deliver us up to the constable. Well, we won’t be there, we know how to make ourselves scarce when needs must.”
“I will do no such thing,” Algy retorted angrily. “Do you think I am a cowardly sneak who goes running to others to fight his battles? I’m no sneak or a tell-tale and I can stand on my own feet!”
“Well sir, If that be true, then I think the better of you for it and we’ll part with honours even.”
“No, wait” said Algy “I demand the right to some redress, I have in mind a contest that we could play between us that could show who has the right.”
And so they fell to planning the details of the contest to be fought in the woods of the Melrose estate to decide whether the nobility or the artisans would be the final victors.
In the next part: Do Algy and Will get their revenge ? Do Joe and his brothers suffer the wrath of a peer of the realm?
© Copyright Cinched 2009
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