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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.
I opened my eyes to see Jason lying on his stomach in the opposite bunk. His hands were as I’d left them - securely tied in the small of his back. A short, taut length of twine ran from his wrists to his ankles, which were also roped together. His sleek, tanned legs were bent back at the knees about as far as they could go, so his bound feet nestled just below his buttocks.
"Funny," I thought, in my first moment of wakefulness. "I don't remember putting him in a hogtie."
Then I felt a weight land on my back with a force that winded me. Powerful hands seized my arms and forced them behind me. Simon's grinning face appeared in my line of vision. He cocked his head and said:
"Have you met my big brother?"
I glanced back and up at the older teen who was sitting on my back. He was maybe seventeen. He looked like Simon, but handsome where Simon was still cute. A big dog, not a puppy. I had seen him around the port, usually with a different girl every time. I knew he was Simon's brother, and that his name was David. Sometimes he had answered the door when I had called round for Simon. Otherwise, our interactions had been minimal.
"Stay down!" he barked, forcing my head back down. He was strong. He started to briskly tie my hands behind me with knots that felt more than efficient.
"I told David here that you guys had tied me up," Simon explained. "And asked him to help me get a little payback. He was happy to oblige."
"I bet he was," I said, wincing as a knot was pulled tight, pinching the skin of my wrist.
"Thanks for getting that one started for me," said David, indicating the hog-tied Jason. "I just had to add a few finishing touches."
Jason groaned and shifted as much as his bonds would allow - which was not very much at all.
"That prick kept me tied up all night," Jason said. "I want to get him back too. If you untie me, I'll help you guys!"
"Does it look like we need your help?" David said, as he tied my ankles together and drew them up behind my body to meet my bound wrists.
Jason looked at Simon with an appeal in his big brown eyes.
"Please, Simon. Give me a break here. My hands have been behind me like this for hours. I think I'm getting cramp in my shoulder or something."
Jason was right - his hands had been tied all night. Early morning light filtered through the boat's portholes. David and Simon must've got up early to launch their dawn raid.
"Please, Simon," Jason repeated.
Simon started to say, "Maybe we can..." but David cut him right off.
"No way. They both stay tied until I say so. If you don't like it you can join them, little brother - got that?"
"Got it!" said Simon.
As I lay there testing the stringency of my hogtie, which was considerable, I wondered about Simon's previous claim to never have been tied up before, with this guy for a big brother. David sure knew how to tie a guy up, and seemed to have the taste for it.
David did a last check of my bonds, then Jason's.
Satisfied that we were helpless he said, "Okay, let's take this bucket of rust out for a spin."
"She's not a bucket of rust," I protested.
"You want to be gagged?" David replied sharply.
"No, sir! Sorry, sir!" I said (I find it helps to be extra polite when you're a helplessly bound captive),
"Right, you're sorry," David muttered.
"Need any help casting off?" Simon asked.
"Nah," said David. "You stay down here and play with your little friends. I'll drive the boat."
"One thing, David. Sir!" I said.
"You just can't shut up, can you?"
"No. I mean yes... but... we'll need to fuel up if we're taking the boat out."
David considered this.
"Okay, where's your cash?" he said.
"In my pocket."
I rolled over a little to expose the side pocket of my swim shorts. David reached into it and extracted a couple of thousand peseta notes.
"Pleasure doing business with you, sir," I said with what I hoped was a winning smile. "I'd shake your hand but mine are tied behind my back."
David returned my smile.
"You're alright," he said. Then he ruffled my hair, and went up on deck.
Simon looked at me quizzically. Jason glowered at me.
"Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir. What a pathetic suck-up you are!" Jason said.
Simon nodded in agreement.
"Hey, you have to play the hand you're dealt," I said.
The boat started to move away from the berth. We wouldn't be able to pick up any real speed until we had left the port. Before that, we'd need to stop at the fuel dock. A thought occurred to me.
"Oh, wait a minute," I said. "What if the guy at the fuel dock sees us like this? They might think we've been kidnapped and call the Guardia Civil. There's a police post right in the tower, there. You don't want to get on the wrong side of those guys!"
"Shut up," said Simon. "Nobody's going to see you down here."
"Someone standing on the dock could see me through the hatch there," I said, jerking my head towards the dark-glass hatch above. "It's not totally blacked out, you know."
"Okay," said Simon. "We'll just have to move you over here to the other side of the boat!"
With some effort and little ceremony, Simon grabbed me by the elbows and lifted me off my bunk, before dumping me down beside Jason on the other bunk. The bunk was narrow. Jason struggled to lie on his side. I did likewise. Still, our bare chests, stomachs and thighs were pressed together, our faces only an inch or two apart.
"I really don't want to be this close to you right now," Jason said.
"Aw, don't you love me anymore, Jase?" I said. Then I rubbed my nose against Jason's - Eskimo kiss style.
Jason tried to pull away, but his bonds and the close space gave him little scope.
"You two make a cute couple," Simon taunted.
"If you don't get me out of this, I'm going to scream my head off at the fuel dock," Jason said.
"Thanks for the warning," Simon replied. He went up on deck and returned with two chamois leather cloths. He started to fold one into a tight square.
"I was joking," Jason said weakly. "I won't make a sound, I swear."
"I know you won't," said Simon, as he stuffed the chamois into Jason's mouth and tied it in place with a piece of twine, which he looped three times around Jason's head.
"I never threatened to scream," I said urgently as Simon folded the second chamois.
"I know," said Simon. "You've been a model prisoner. But I think we should remove the temptation anyway."
And he gave me the same treatment as Jason. Fortunately, the chamois were just out the packet and unused - although I had no doubt Simon would've have used them on us even if they were filthy.
My doubts about Simon's claims to tie-up virginity were growing by the second - as was my physical discomfort.
Basically, I needed to pee - badly. I had been seized and bound as I awoke, and had had no chance to take my morning relief. I felt the strong urge now. I suspected Jason felt the same way.
The boat's engine cut out, and we glided to berth alongside the fuel dock.
I could hear David talking to the attendant above deck. Then came the sounds of fuel being pumped. The mental image of a spout with liquid flowing freely from it increased my need to pee. I tried desperately to block the image, screwing my eyes shut and nestling my forehead on Jason's broad, warm shoulder.
"Gaa aff", Jason said through his gag.
"You know, I don't know what's harder to understand," Simon said to Jason. "You talking through a gag, or you talking in your regular accent!"
"Faa uff ya Ennlish bashta," was Jason's muffled response.
I knew what Jason meant to say. Simon was English, from the Home Counties, near London, and very well spoken. Jason was Scottish from Edinburgh and he spoke - when he wasn't gagged with a chamois leather cloth - with a thick brogue that could be hard to follow for the uninitiated.
I was also from Scotland, born to a Scottish father and an American mother with family roots in Ireland's County Donegal. I had spent quite a bit of time in Massachusetts, in my mother's hometown, including a period at school there, so my own accent was (and is) a weird mid-Atlantic muddle - Boston/Glasgow fusion if you can imagine such a thing - but still rather more intelligible than Jason's!
Still, I wasn't able to make myself any better understood through my gag. I tried to say "I need to piss":
"Ah eed ah pushh!" is what came out.
"I hear you," said Simon.
I craned my neck around to look at him hopefully. He was sitting on the opposite bunk, cradling his chin in his hands and gazing at us pair of prisoners with a dreamy little smile on his slightly-flushed face.
"I hear you say 'ah-ee-ah-push'," he went on. "I just don't know what the hell you mean by that!"
I sighed and wriggled a bit, tugging at my bonds in frustration. My body rubbed against Jason's as I did so.
"Aht tiggles!" Jason said.
"What was that?" Simon said. "You want to be tickled?"
"NNNNNEH!" was the unanimous response from Jason and me.
Simon knelt down beside our bunk and leant over our bound bodies. He laid a hand on my shoulder, drumming his fingers ominously on my collar bone. With his other hand he reached across me and ran his fingers lightly along Jason's ribcage. Jason tensed and tried to pull away - but the fact that he was wedged between me and the side of the boat, as well as tightly hogtied, meant he had little room for maneuver. Still, his midriff thrust forward to press firmly against mine - a development I might have welcomed except for the additional pressure it put on my bladder!
If Simon really started tickling me now, I was worried I'd piss not only myself, but on Jason as well.
Drastic action was called for. I coughed several times into my gag, as if starting to choke.
"Very funny," said Simon. "But you're not fooling me!"
His fingers began to probe my armpits. I felt a single drop of pee touch cloth. Desperate, I escalated the coughs to a loud retching sound.
David poked his head down into the cabin.
"Get that gag off him, idiot!" he said. Then he withdrew and started the engine.
Simon's nimble fingers unpicked the knotted twine holding the cloth in my mouth. I forced the damp cloth out with my tongue.
"Simon, I swear to god I'm going to piss myself here."
Jason made a loud protest into his gag - he definitely saw the danger to himself in this situation . Simon removed his gag in turn.
"I need to go too," Jason said when his mouth was unpacked. "Badly."
"You've got to let us go," I said urgently. "Untie us, please!"
"Untie you?" Simon sounded doubtful.
"Just for a couple of minutes," I pleaded. "You can retie us right after. I swear I'll co-operate with anything you want to do. And so will Jason."
"Speak for yourself," said Jason. "You've been tied up for ten minutes. I've been tied all night. I need to be free for a bit now."
Simon thought for a moment. The boat was pulling away from the fuel dock now, heading for the mouth of the port and the open sea beyond.
"I'll ask my brother," he said and went up on deck.
I looked at Jason. Our faces were less than an inch apart, so it was hard to focus on his face.
"You know you need to learn to keep your mouth shut even when you're not gagged," I whispered. "Why did you go and say that? You could have promised to cooperate, then welched once we were free."
"Uh-huh," said Jason. "You know what you need to do? Brush your teeth. Your breath stinks."
Simon had been up on deck for a couple of minutes. The boat was heading out to sea at full throttle.
Jason and me remained lying on our sides on a single bunk, facing each other, our torsos pressed together, our arms and legs bound behind us in uncompromising hogties.
I felt as if my bladder was about to burst. Jason made a minute adjustment in his position - no more than the slightest movement of his hips. The friction caused an intense burning sensation in my groin. I felt like the floodgates were about to break.
"Jason, please!" I said in a hoarse whisper. "Please. Just... don't move. At all."
"You've got it really bad, don't you?"
I nodded imperceptibly.
"Serves you right, for leaving me tied up all night!"
"That was your choice," I countered. "All you had to do was beg."
"Oh, yeah? Well how about you beg me to stop doing this?"
Jason began rhythmically thrusting his pelvis against mine. The sensation was unbearable... unbelievable... incredible.
I opened my mouth to beg, but only a moan escaped.
Just then, David came down into the cabin.
"What are you two little homos up to?" he asked, with a derisive laugh.
"Nothing," Jason said quickly.
"Looked like something from where I'm standing. Still, to each his own. I'll just need to remember to warn Simon to watch his arse around you two. Now - I understand you need to go potty?"
"Yes, sir!" I squeaked. "Desperately."
"Diddums."
David gathered me up effortlessly and dumped me back down on the other bunk. He was very strong.
"Well, look, here's how it is. Bathroom privileges have to be earned on my vessel."
Oh.something about his brother being a Royal Navy cadet. That would explain the sturdy knots on my wrists and ankles.
"I'll do anything,' I said quickly. "Anything at all."
"Anything, really?" said David. "Okay - scratch your nose!"
"Um... my hands are tied behind my back, in case you hadn't noticed!"
"Oh, no - I had noticed," David rejoined. "Which is why I thought it was odd that you offered to do *anything*. When, in fact, there's very little you can do in your current situation, is there?"
"No, there's not much I can do," I had to concede. My mind clicked into strategic mode. "But I bet I could pee with my hands tied behind my back!"
"That I would like to see," David said with a predatory smile.
"Untie my feet and take me to the back of the boat," I said. "I'll give you a show!"
David laughed.
"Ok - but just your feet."
He leaned over me and unpicked the knotted twine that held my hands and feet together. Then he untied the cotton rope from around my ankles. My wrist-ties were my only remaining bonds. Briefly.
"Let's make this a little more challenging!" David said. "Turn and kneel."
I knelt up on the bunk.
I wonder what this is about? I thought.
I got my answer when I felt David's hands on my elbows, drawing them together and ensnaring them with the rope that he had just removed from my ankles.
"Okay, now you stay right where you are," David ordered.
Obediently, I held my position - kneeling, arms pulled behind me, head down, staring at the bunk, trying not to think of the burning in my bladder - while David gave Jason the exact same treatment.
I heard Jason protest as the elbow ties were pulled tight.
"You're not as supple as your mate," David remarked.
God help me, but I felt a swell of pride at that.
I'm flexible - or I was - but my elbows can't touch behind my back for any length of time without serious discomfort. Fortunately, David hadn't tied them touching - he had constructed a six-inch bridge of knotty rope between them. He now used this bridge as a handle, firmly gripping it and pulling me off my knees, before pushing me up onto deck. Jason was similarly wrangled.
Simon was driving the boat. He looked at me and grinned.
"Cut the engine!" David ordered.
Simon obeyed at once - David obviously had him well trained. I was now quite convinced that Simon's claim never to have been tied up before was a ploy to draw us into the spiral of tie-up games in which we were now ensnared. He had played us masterfully. Inwardly, I resolved to make him pay in ropeburn for his deviousness!
"Your mate here says he can piss with his hands tied behind his back - isn't that right?" David said.
"I'll piss standing right here with my hands tied behind my back if you don't get us on the dive platform, quick!"
David propelled me and Jason forward, forcing us to clamber awkwardly over the backseats, and positioning us on the dive platform at the rear of the boat.
Then David took his hands off us and stood back to watch.
There was a modest swell on the Med that day. The boat swayed gently in the waves. But even a gentle swell can be a challenge when your arms are bound behind you at wrists and elbows, throwing off your balance to begin with!
Jason and me had to do some fancy footwork to find a somewhat stable, wide-legged stance.
I heard David and Simon chuckling in the rear.
"How are you going to get your dicks out?" Simon asked.
I had been pondering the same question. I looked around - there were no other boats in view. It was still quite early in the morning, after all. I decided to throw dignity and modesty to the winds: I grabbed the back of my swim trunks with my bound hands. After several seconds of writhing my torso, bending at the waist, dipping at the knees and tugging at the seat of my trunks, the trunks were riding down my thighs, below my arse.
Cursing, Jason did likewise.
And so we (further) polluted the Med with our golden arcs. It was probably the best piss of my life. The sense of relief was fierce - and short lived. Because just as I was squeezing out the last few blessed drops...
...a hand pushed me sharply between the shoulder blades, sending me plunging off the platform and into the cold saltwater below.
© Copyright TobyTickler 2009
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