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by TobyTickler
This story is a work of fiction, all characters and plot lines are fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Rope Float 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.
"Are you still awake?" Jason whispered.
I sighed and answered:
"Yes."
"I can't sleep," said Jason. "It's too hot."
It was hot in the belly of the boat. The cabin door and deck hatch were open, but there was hardly any movement in the air of that August night. Jason and I lay on our bunks, on top of our sleeping bags, wearing only our swim trunks. And still we sweated. Jason's blond curls were moist and the light sheen of sweat on his deeply tanned chest and smooth, defined stomach glistened in the moonlight.
We often slept over on the boat. It had never been this hot.
"I've been thinking about what you did to Simon," Jason said. (It had been a couple of days since the tie-up shenanigans described in parts 1-3.)
"What WE did, surely?"
"You're the one who tied him up. I couldn't have done that."
"What, you mean you have qualms?"
"Hell, no! I mean I couldn't have tied him as well as you did. Everybody I ever tried to tie up has been able to get free within a couple of minutes. You kept Simon tied for over an hour!"
Jason propped himself up on his elbow and looked over at me intently.
"How did you learn to tie like that?" he asked.
I shrugged and said:
"I practice a lot on my little brother."
Jason was an only child.
"I wish I had someone to practice on," Jason said.
After several seconds, I said, as casually as I could manage:
"You can practice on me, if you like."
"Right now?"
"Sure."
Jason reached out and switched on the cabin light.
"I'll get the rope," he said. "You get on your stomach!"
I rolled over onto my stomach, placing my hands at my sides, palms-up. I looked back over my shoulder at Jason. He was rummaging around excitedly in a storage compartment. He pulled out a couple of lengths of white cotton rope, of the type and thickness used to secure fenders.
"That's good rope," I said.
"Okay," said Jason. Then he launched himself onto me, straddling my legs, his knees planted by my hips.
"Give me your hands!" he ordered, grabbing my hands and pulling them back behind me. He positioned them palm-to-palm and tied them together at the wrists. I smirked, knowing I could easily pull my hands free. They weren't so much behind my back as behind my arse - a common beginner's mistake.
Then Jason surprised me. He took the second piece of rope, but instead of tying my feet as I expected, he cinched my elbows and pulled them together until they were touching, before tying them off with several turns of the rope. I was thin and supple, back then. Still, this was the first time I'd had my elbows tied behind my back. It felt intensely restrictive and I loved it.
"Okay," Jason smirked. "Let's see you get out of that!"
He rolled off of me and sat himself on the edge of his own bunk, watching me expectantly.
I struggled to sit up to face him. The elbow tie made the slightest movement extremely painful.
"You're not getting out of that!" Jason said confidently.
In a single movement I pulled my wrists free. With my elbows still tied, I stuck my hands out beside my body and did a minstrel-type wave at Jason, who looked crestfallen.
"Don't look so down," I said. "You did a pretty good job on my elbows here."
It took a couple of minutes of methodically (and painfully) rolling my shoulders and flexing my elbows to create enough slack to free my elbows. The exertion and the heat made me sweat profusely, which probably helped. Finally, the rope fell to the floor, still with two loops in it. Jason picked it up and began to unpick the remaining knots as I stretched out my aching arms.
"I thought I had you there," he said.
I laced my fingers behind my head and leaned back.
"It was a good effort," I said. "But you went with the V-shape. That was a basic mistake."
"What?"
"Well, look. There's basically two ways to tie someone's hands behind their back. The V-shape..."
By way of illustration I placed my arms behind me, hands palm-to-palm below my tailbone.
"...or the U-shape."
I crossed my forearms in the small of my back.
"For most body types, the U-shape is most effective. For you, it would be especially hard to escape from."
"Oh yeah?" Jason said, cocking his head back. "What makes you think so?"
"You have broad shoulders and big bunches of muscles in your arms and stomach. You'd never be able to bring your hands in front of you. Not the way I'd tie you. And I wouldn't even have to tie your feet."
Jason grinned and chucked the rope over to me. I caught it and ran it through my hands, straightening it out.
"Show me!" he said.
He lay down on his stomach and crossed his forearms in the small of his back.
If I have one rule it is this: when a cute shirtless teenager invites me to tie him up, I accept!
So I went briskly to work, binding Jason's crossed hands together in the small of his back. I kept my word and didn't tie his feet. However, I did use both lengths of rope on his hands. By the time I was done they were thoroughly ensnared in a cat's cradle of multiple turns, knots and crosses.
"There you go," I said, ruffling Jason's damp hair. "Good night and good luck!"
I threw myself down on my bunk, turned away to face the wall, and emitted a series of exagerrated snores.
"Very funny," Jason said.
Then he didn't say anything for quite some time, as he began the struggle for the freedom of his hands. I listened, intrigued by the mix of sounds: the writhing of limbs, skin brushing against skin, jagged breathing, the licking of dry lips, the occasional soft groan.
After a full five minutes I turned over, cradled my head on my right bicep, and looked across at Jason.
He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, panting, his hair tousled, his face flushed, a trail of sweat running down the middle of his chest.
I was delighted to see that his arms were still pulled behind him in a perfect "U" shape. I grinned triumphantly. He returned a sheepish smile and a restrained shrug.
"No way I can get out of this," he said.
"Nope," was my simple reply.
"Are you going to untie me?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On how you ask."
"Pretty please!" said Jason, with exagerrated sweetness, his dimples working overtime.
"It's not just about the words you use," I said, sitting up to face him.
"So what else do I need to do to get out of this?"
"Well, who would you say has the upper hand in this situation?"
Jason sighed and said:
"You do, obviously."
"What do I obviously have?"
"The upper hand," Jason played along.
"Why do I have the upper hand?"
"Because you're not tied up."
"Right, I have the upper hand because my hands are free. While yours are tightly tied behind your back."
"Yes they are," said Jason, tugging at his bonds for emphasis.
"So what does that mean?"
Jason shrugged.
"Think about it. What can I do to you?" I pressed.
"Anything you want."
"Right. Anthing I want. And what can you do to me?"
"Well, I can kick you in the balls!" Jason said, playfully lashing out at my groin with his right foot.
I deflected the kick and caught his ankle. Then I gathered up his other ankle and pulled his legs out straight in front of him, holding his bare feet together on my bunk.
"Yes, you could try that, " I said. "But pretty much anything you try is going to be easy for me to deal with - why?"
"Because my hands are tied behind my back?"
"Exactly. And of course there's a penalty for even trying..."
I began a stiff-fingered tickle assault on his bare soles.
Jason writhed and screeched. After maybe a minute he started to beg, between gasps:
"Please...stop! I'm...I'm...sorry! I won't try anything again! PLEASE! I'll be...a good prisoner!"
"What did you say?"
"I'LL BE A GOOD PRISONER!"
"A good little prisoner?"
"MMMWAH...YES...A GOOD LITTLE PRISONER! PLEASE!"
I released his feet. He pulled them away and drew his knees up into a protective semi-fetal position, lying on his side in his bunk, his hands still held uncompromisingly behind him.
"Okay," I said. "So how do you think a good little prisoner talks to his captor?"
""Um...respectfully?"
"Certainly. But didn't I say it's not just about the words you use?"
Jason's brow furrowed.
"I don't know what you mean..."
"Well, what do you think would be the appropriate position for a prisoner who wants to beg something from his captor?"
"Wait...you want me to kneel?"
"Bingo!"
"No way. I'm not going down on my knees to you."
I shrugged and said:
"Fine, you don't have to. I just hope you don't need to scratch your nose or something during the night!"
I switched off the cabin lights and lay down to sleep.
© Copyright TobyTickler 2008
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