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How I Got Into It This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. 2– The Camp As soon as Stefan and Silvio had disappeared I started to test my bonds.This wasn’t the first time I’d been tied up as I had played tie-up games with Georg before, but he was not very good at it, so I could always get out of his attempts quite easily. Soon I realised that this was different, as my usual escape techniques didn’t work. I could get no slack by tugging at the ropes, nor could I wriggle my hands out of them, or reach a knot with my fingers to undo it. And unfortunately, I wasn’t one of the lucky boys who could slip their bum through their arms to get their hands in front of them. Although I found that I could get my fingers a bit closer to my ankle ropes if I rolled on my side, there was still no knot within reach. The only result of my efforts was that my entire body was covered with sweat, so I gave up and rolled back on to my stomach. To be honest, “giving up” was not really the right term. All right, I had learned that I wouldn’t get out of this without assistance, but – call me a pervert – neither did I really want to, at least not too soon! After all, it had been one of my wildest dreams to be tied up strictly and inescapably, not knowing how long I’d have to endure that predicament. Neither Georg’s clumsy attempts to tie me up (Sorry, Georg!), nor my experiments in self-bondage had ever given me that feeling, I had never found anything I couldn’t get out of within seconds. I’m deeply ashamed (well, not really), but I enjoyed my situation. I looked over to Rico. He lay quietly on his side, turning his back towards me; his skin was shining with sweat just like mine. I wondered if he had the same feelings that I had, or if he had just resigned himself to his fate. So I lay in the sun, tugging at my bonds from time to time just to feel they were there. After a while I even began to get a bit sleepy. “Good afternoon, gentlemen! I’m very sorry to interrupt your siesta, but it’s time to leave this beautiful place!” The sudden sound of Stefan’s voice, as cheerful as before, kind of shocked me. I hadn’t even noticed that he was back. He went over to Rico, removed the hog-tie and released his feet; while Rico started to use his newly-won freedom by moving his legs up and down, Stefan used the rope that had been around Rico’s ankles to place some kind of a leash round his neck. When he had finished it, he gently pulled it upwards, saying: “Come on Rico, get up on your feet, please!” With some struggling, Rico managed to get his knees under his body, then raised to a kneeling position, and finally he stood on his feet. Stefan tied the loose end of Rico’s leash, which was about four feet long, around his left wrist, and came over to me. Rico followed him – what else could he do? I don’t know if I mentioned it before, but Rico didn’t wear shoes either – nor did Stefan. Stefan knelt down beside me, and so did Rico, forced down by the leash tied to Stefan’s wrist. I was treated like Rico before: feet untied, leash around the neck and “helped” on to my feet. To my relief, I noticed that the leash was not very tight, just tight enough that my head couldn’t slip through it, and it was knotted so it would not get tighter when pulled. Now that I was standing up, my feelings were quite obvious, but Stefan didn’t notice – or if he did, he was tactful enough not to mention it. He dragged me behind Rico and tied the loose end of my leash to Rico’s, leaving only 20 inches or so of rope between me and Rico. “Gentlemen,” Stefan announced, “You’ll be pleased to hear that you are both invited to our camp. So follow me please!” Through a small gap in the brush, he pulled us to a narrow path. You might not know it, but it is not very pleasant to walk along a narrow forest path with your hands tied behind your back, especially with another guy tied directly in front of you. The branches he pushes out of his way will spring back on you very quickly, and they’ll find your body or legs on their way back, which is more unpleasant for you than for the branches – especially if they hit your bare skin. After what may have been fifteen or 20 minutes and dozens of branches – most of them just annoying but not really painful – the path opened into a large clearing. Its opposite end was formed by a lakeshore. I had not come here much before, but I recognised the lake immediately; although it was considerably larger than me and Georg’s “secret pond”, it didn’t have a name; it was just referred to as “the lake”. In the centre of the clearing there was a large campfire. Right now there was no fire, but everything was prepared for it. Around it there were some log seats and benches. A few feet behind them, eight or ten vertical poles formed a ring around the campfire, each of them some 7 feet high and 5 inches in diameter; they looked like pieces of old telegraph poles (I later learned that that’s exactly what they were.) Looking left, partly hidden between the trees, I saw a reddish-brown wooden hut. It was about 12 feet wide, with a door in the centre which was flanked by two windows with open green shutters. The frames of the door and the windows were painted white. Around the hut, I could see two or three small sheds, painted like the hut, but without white doorframes. Because of the trees I couldn’t get an idea of the hut’s length. When we went past the campfire I discovered another “special feature” of this place: some twenty wooden posts stuck in the ground, each about eight to ten inches high, forming rectangles of around eight by four feet. I didn’t have to guess what these rectangles were for, for one of them was already occupied by a boy about my age, also in red PE shorts only, who was staked out between them. Of course he was gagged too. Coming closer, I recognised him. It was Bobby, another classmate of mine. I started to wonder if in the end, the entire seventh class would meet here. Near the rectangles we stopped. Stefan looked around and shouted “Peter!” There was a movement in the bushes to the left of the hut and a boy came out. This one was not a classmate of mine – I didn’t even know him. He was maybe a year younger than I was; his light-brown hair just touched his shoulders. Like Stefan, he wore cut-offs only, but he hadn’t stuffed ropes under his belt. Unlike us, he wore shoes – trainers, that is. (Of course I recognised the brand, but I will not mention it here unless the manufacturers pay me a considerable amount of money) “Hi, Stefan! Yes, I saw you. Two? Congrats!” “Thanks Peter, but there’s no need to make a big deal of it. I didn’t get them alone; Silvio was with me. One standard, one pole, please.” Peter went over to one of the sheds. What he brought with him when he came back was not really a surprise to me: several lengths of rope. Meanwhile Stefan had walked us to an unoccupied square and unleashed me from Rico. He handed my leash to Peter and said “Secure him for the moment and then help me! Oh, Dominik” he turned towards me, “Sorry for the delay. You’ll be sorted out in a minute.” Peter forced me down into a sitting position, with my knees bent, and wrapped the loose end of my leash twice around my ankles. He didn’t spend much time securing it; a simple overhand knot was all he used. I knew it wouldn’t be much of a problem to get out of that, but with my hands still tied, it wouldn’t help me much, so I didn’t even try. Rico knew what was in for him; without being ordered, he lay down in the square, propped on his elbows, and spread his legs to the posts. Stefan and Peter seemed to be real experts; within less than two minutes, Rico was securely staked out, without any knots within reach of his fingers, and his leash removed. Now it was my turn. My leash was removed – both from my feet and my neck – and I was forced to stand with my back to one of the poles. My hands were untied, and each boy grabbed one of my arms and bent it around the pole, and my wrists were retied. Next, I felt a rope wrapped three or four times around my arms, just above the elbows, and behind the pole. It was pulled tight, forcing my elbows back as far as possible. While Peter secured my feet to the pole, Stefan wrapped another length of rope around my thighs, just below my shorts, and cinched them off between my legs; I couldn’t even move my hips anymore, and the elbow tie made sure I wouldn’t even get out of this if I could get my hands free, which was more than unlikely anyhow. I had to admit these guys were good. Peter went over and checked Bobby’s and Rico’s bonds once again, while Stefan came close to me again. “I’m really sorry for not making you as comfortable as Rico and Bobby,” he said, playfully rubbing my nipples with his fingertips (which distracted much of my attention from what he was saying). “It’s just a reminder for me not to forget, when the game is over, to discuss with the boys if – or rather how – you should be punished for trying to lie yourself out of trouble when we captured you. But” he continued, “as a little compensation you’ll now get a nice drink of cool water.” He went over to the unlit campfire and returned with a bottle in his hand, but as he started to undo my gag, he suddenly stopped. “This is your first game, so you may not be completely familiar with the rules. One of them says that if a prisoner is ungagged to get a drink, he is not allowed to speak, or make any noise. So if we hear anything from you other than ‘gulp, gulp’ you will stay tied up for an extra hour. Do you understand? I’ll take two mmmphs for a yes, and don’t forget Peter is around as a witness”. I had indeed thought of taking advantage of the temporary removal of my gag to tell him again that I was not part of the game and it was a mistake and so on, but under these circumstances that seemed not to be a good idea: He didn’t believe me when I was captured, and there was absolutely no reason why he should believe me now. It wasn’t worth the risk – especially since I didn’t know in addition to “how long” that extra hour would be. So I mmphed twice, was ungagged and got my drink. “That’s enough for the moment.” Stefan said, pulling the bottle back from my lips. “After all, you don’t want to pee your pants, do you? Now open wide, please! Thank you!” and the gag was back in my mouth. “Sorry for not keeping you company any longer, but the boys might need my help. I’m sure you will not be bored – anyway, you’ve got Rico’s and Bobby’s company. See you later!” And, waving at me, he disappeared in the brush. At least he did so without making that age-old don’t-go-anywhere joke. © Copyright Dominik 2007
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