Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby Jack Roper » Tue Jan 22, 2013 6:15 pm

CHAIR BOUND

I must have been drugged. My head was throbbing, and my vision was pretty much gone—or restricted by something blurry—was it my mind or some blindfold, I thought? I slowly regained consciousness, or as much as my drugged state allowed. I tried moving and found that every attempt to shift my body came upon a quick restriction, with what felt like solid ropes wrapped many times over my entire body.

There was a broken mirror nearby and I could make out a very indistinct image of myself: tied to a heavy wooden chair, with a back equal apparently to the top of my head. When I tried to move my head forward it came to a full stop. My neck and head were bound to this chair too.

That scared me—what if that rope around my neck strangled me? I shuddered—literally-- and backed off any wild attempts at escape. Maybe that’s what whoever did this too me intended, because every attempt to escape was met by an equal and restricting tightening of rope somewhere else.

It was like the rope around my wrists, behind my back --but pulled up to right-angles with my chest-- appeared to be linked to rope around my ankles, waist, arms, and worst of all—my neck. If I pulled down I could feel a tightening like a noose around my neck. My fingers couldn’t locate any knots to untie, and the best they could do would be to flail about, frustrated in their tight cocoon of ropes, out of my sight, behind my back.

And I had on an orange turtleneck, I could see it all bunched up at the top of my neck, where it meets my chin. It felt like someone was tickling me every time I turned my head; plus I could feel a number of ropes encircling this sweater, almost up to above my Adam’s apple. Danger, I thought to myself, breathing deeply to try to calm my frantic mind.

I slowed down more and began to explore any possible avenue of escape. The rope around my knees seemed joined in some Rube Goldberg contraption of knots and ropes, to my chest and arms. I felt like a fly stuck in flypaper—all dressed up and nowhere to go.

I tried to scream, but all that came out was: “Hhhhllllllpppppp! Ppppzzzz! Hhhppp mmmaae!” I was gagged completely. There must have been something stuffed in my mouth, because my tongue barely moved. Probably a sponge because every time I bit down on it some pungent liquid would fill my mouth and then slid down my throat. It felt very warm, and my drugged state seemed to become something of a reverie. Damn, was I starting to like this? What’s wrong with me?

I realized also that there must be duct tape wrapped around my mouth. I could see wide gray tape encircling my head in the mirror, who knows how many times. I’d never been tied up like this before in my life! Sure my girlfriend and I played at tie up games, taking turns, but she wouldn’t be part of anything like this. No way. Too extreme.

So who did this? And how long was I going to be all trussed up like this? I was really becoming anxious, and the ropes and tight clothes didn’t help me at all. I felt like I was in some evil person’s cocoon, a prisoner, unable to escape. Frustrated, struggling, breathe heaving, ropes tightening, trying to back off, but continuously trying to break free, my efforts built up and slackened as my energy waned.

This must have gone on for several hours. The light in the room started to appear like sunset, and the room began to get colder. My body started to shake. I was certainly glad to have such warm clothes on now. I remembered putting on a thick long-sleeve Hanes t-shirt this morning, and then the turtleneck, blue jeans and boots. I also remembered walking down the street, feeling really good. Then…this.

I fell asleep a number of times bound and gagged in that heavy chair, only to be awakened with a start, as my head would hang forward, choking me, and again realizing my predicament. The sponge kept releasing that liquid, and after each gulp I felt even more drugged.

I heard voices coming from below me now. The beat of music became louder, and there was laughter now and then. I tried screaming out loud but all that came out were those pathetic ‘mmmppphhh!” Damn! I’m trapped until someone let’s me go. Enforced waiting is an amazing form of torment, I now realize. The ropes keeping me bound felt like a warm embrace, holding me to the chair, keeping me secure. I was someone’s prisoner, and for who knows how long!
L_p0024059737[1].jpg
Walking down the street, then...
L_p0024059737[1].jpg (17.02 KiB) Viewed 5656 times
Last edited by Jack Roper on Sat Jan 26, 2013 6:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Zandor » Tue Jan 22, 2013 6:58 pm

Conytinue I like
You are q immortal

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Sacrificiallove » Tue Jan 22, 2013 9:33 pm

I have to say, I really like quite a few things about this. First off, I noticed that his muffled cries for help were more realistic than most people make it. They just have the person going mphhh and crap. But you actually had something that was a bit comprehensible, which I'm sure would be how it is in real life. I don't think having someone go mphhh equates to what they're trying to say. So that was a nice change. I also liked just how helpless he was. I mean, he can't even struggle. I can't wait to find out who his captors are and what's going to happen to him, and also if he gets out of the situation, or if someone comes to save him or something. (Have you ever considered a woman coming to save him? Just putting that out there.)

I'm looking forward to the next part.

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Cowboy » Thu Jan 24, 2013 11:35 pm

Nice... anymore?

Re: Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby Jack Roper » Fri Jan 25, 2013 6:52 pm

Thanks for the compliments--I really appreciate them. Therefore, here's another chapter, hopefully explaining a little more of what is going on.

COMPANY IN THE ATTIC

Times passed, it seemed to slow down a lot, as I went in and out of consciousness. My bound body was melded tightly to the wooden arms, legs and back of this heavy duty chair. Looking at myself I felt like a real prisoner each time I remembered where I was.

And where was that? I soon found out a little more as the music got considerably louder and two girls entered the attic door behind me. The light revealed my predicament immediately.

“Oh dear,” I heard one of them say, in what sounded like a 20’s aged girl.

“Let’s help him out, ok?” the other said mercifully. Help had arrived.

I “mmppphhed” in appreciation as they walked up behind me and began touching and playing with the ropes around my neck, chest and hands. My blindfold was removed and I witnessed two of the prettiest girls I have ever seen in this town. One was blonde, maybe 5/4”, slim with muscles, very pale skin, but beautiful lips, and her eyes—they pulled me right in. The other was brunette, about the same height and build—maybe a little beefier—like Wonder Woman maybe. Also very pretty and endowed.

In fact, both of them wore face masks covering their eyes, like some kind of super heroes—or villains maybe. Looked like Wonder Woman and Supergirl to me. They kept removing the ropes knotted so intricately, until all that was left was my elbow bound behind me, separated from the chair, and some of the thinner rope that bound my wrists. They removed the gag, and sponge—carefully.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as the thick green round sponge popped out. “Ugghh!” I muttered, “Can I have some water, please?” I gasped, realizing how thirty you can get all tied up and gagged for most of a day. They readily obliged and I gulped the clear liquid down gratefully, some of it spilling down my shirt onto the ropes surrounding my arms.

They helped me up off the chair and assisted me across the room to a bed, where they sat me down. One of them—the blonde, disappeared for a minute, and came back holding a pungent rag in her right hand. “Sorry, but you have company coming,” she said, pressing the foul smelling rag over my nose and mouth. I flailed my legs, but being bound on my hands and arms, and tipped over on my side, and sat on by both girls, made me no match for these two, as I slowly lost consciousness again.


I awoke a while later, bound hand and foot in a tight hog-tie, on the bed, with a leather gag filling my mouth with what felt like a cock. This merciless gag was strapped tightly behind my neck.
I looked over at the chair where I had been tied and saw another guy, Jake--I knew him!--, bound hand and foot just like I had been. He was gagged with duct tape too, and blindfolded just enough so he probably could see if he bent his head back.

“”Hhhaaayyyy Jjjjaayyykkaaa,” I yelled. Now I knew partly why I was here. Jake and I had pledged a fraternity earlier in the semester, and were rejected (picture of Jake below). Now, for some reason, we were being held prisoners in their house. Jake stirred and tried to respond, but the duct tape was probably covering a sponge like I had, so all that came out was: “hhhmmmmmppppmmmaaa!!!”

Two freshman prisoners, bound, gagged and kidnapped. My cock, that had gotten hard at times over the past few hours, calmed down in fear. "What if they aren’t going to release us?” I pulled at the thin hemp ropes surrounding my wrists, but could find no space, no knot to undo. My wrists and fingers were getting numb from the restrictive hog-tie, so I tried bringing my bound ankles up closer to my ass, to relieve the pressure on my wrists. It worked to a degree, but how long could I keep that up? Every few minutes I would slip and feel my wrists tighten up, and have to start all over again. Damn!

Whoever tied me and Jake was some devious rope expert. Just then the two girls returned with a camera mounted on a tripod, with some lights, and the room got very bright.

“We’re going to film you guys,” the blonde said, “so you need to give your best effort at escaping,” she added helpfully. They took turns aiming the camera at both of us, in wide shots, then zoomed into our individual bound and helpless states, shooting long close-ups of our gagged faces, and bound hands and feet. This went on for maybe fifteen minutes, while the both of us shouted and wiggled helplessly in our ropes and gags, until they seemed satisfied. They began to focus on Jake, removing the ropes from his feet and legs, so that he could stand up, which they did with him. His wrists and arms were still bound, just like mine, I sensed. The blonde again fills the rag with a bottle and smothered Jake’s feeble attempt at saying no. He slumped to the floor, next to the bed.

Jake’s feet, knees and thighs were bound quickly and they plopped him on the bed alongside me. My hog-tie was removed and I could finally feel the blood returning to my fingers, wrists, and feet, just as they roll us up against each other, face to face. Jake has terror in his eyes, and he is screaming into his gag. Naturally, I can’t understand a word of it, so I try to console him: “Itttsssskkkkk!” I soothe, as the girls proceed to bind Jake and me together, at the elbows, waists, knees and ankles. A pillow is propped under our heads, like two lovers, bound together, and the girls start filming again!
tumblr_mcj1970vMc1rf2ryho1_500[1].jpg
Jake before his kidnapping
g_chloroform[1].jpg
Chloroform
g_chloroform[1].jpg (14.36 KiB) Viewed 5140 times
Last edited by Jack Roper on Sat Jan 26, 2013 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Sacrificiallove » Fri Jan 25, 2013 7:36 pm

Oh my dear gosh, bound and helpless dudes. Like, I just want to write myself in and save the poor boys lol.

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Zandor » Fri Jan 25, 2013 7:49 pm

You shan't Sara you shan't
You are q immortal

Re: Chair Bound

Postby Mummyboi » Fri Jan 25, 2013 9:50 pm

Wow... excellent.. more please ..more :bondage1:

Re: Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby Jack Roper » Sat Jan 26, 2013 6:18 pm

Thanks again. i just realized maybe this should be posted under PG17. I don't know how to transfer so I'll just label it that for now. Here goes another chapter.

HARD TIME

The girls started up the camera again, and began filming Jake and me, now bound together lying on our sides on a bed. This got me excited for some reason. My hard-on had returned with a vengeance, and every time I tried to escape, my slightest little movement was transferred to Jake. And so were his to me. I could feel his hard-on too, which really embarrassed me. Hey, I’m straight, aren’t I? I thought to myself. Then why am I so hard? Is it the bondage? Could it me Jake? He is, after a cute guy, very androgynous. And why is he hard? Is he gay? So what’s going on here?

The girls seemed to know what was going on, because they began focusing on our crotch area. That made me real uncomfortable, so I stopped trying to escape. Jake calmed down too but then Wonder Woman crawled into the bed and began running her long, red fingernails tickling us all over, digging her fingers into my skin, and Jakes too. Lucky we both still had on shoes because my soles couldn’t take tickle torture.

Even so, this tickle torment just led to spasms of pleasure and more futile escape attempts, which got us both even more excited. I began to laugh uncontrollably, and so did Jake. He was bucking real hard, grinding into me trying to get away from Wonder Woman, and it was then I felt I would lose control—I could feel my orgasm building, straining against the ropes, trying to get out before I exploded, screaming into my leather penis gag—Jake moaning through his duct taped lips, his eyes pleading with me to—what? We were bucking, squirming, writhing, sweating in our tight jeans, when it happened—I shot my load in my pants!

When I opened my eyes I could see that Jake was also on the border of losing control. His blue eyes widened and then closed tight. His head arched back as he had an orgasmic explosion, jerking wildly, pulling on the ropes binding me in my completely helpless state, moaning, when Wonder Woman finally stopped the attack.

She laughed, and said: “Did you get that?’ to the blonde girl, “I believe our two prisoners just made love to each other. This will make a great video to extort money from their families pretty soon.”

So that’s what’s going on, I thought. My mind whirled, wondering what was in store for me—us. It didn’t take long to find out some of it. She turned mean and leaned forward, “That’s right boys, you are being kidnapped and won’t be leaving us anytime soon. We have some other guys we need to capture, so just sit tight there and enjoy yourselves, while we leave for a while. And just so you don’t get any ideas, I’m going to blindfold both of you and bind to the bed.”

With that she produced large bandanas and tied each tightly around our eyes and heads. Jake was protesting loudly now, but I was only feeling more and more helpless. Then I felt rope being brought up and around our trussed bodies, being pulled tightly to various points on the bed. Any movement I hoped to make was now even further constricted.

And then I heard handcuffs being clicked around my wrists, and Jakes. “Click, click, click, click, click, click!”

We were trapped, bound tightly to each other and the bed, handcuffed, gagged, and being left alone. No escape. Prisoners. Helpless. The lights went out and I heard the door slam shut and a lock clicking. The music stopped and all became eerily quiet. What next?

I felt my hard-on beginning to return. And from what I could feel so did Jake.
tumblr_m50io3gZHm1ru0on8o1_500[1].jpg
the girls

Re: Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby Jack Roper » Mon Jan 28, 2013 4:38 pm

AN AMAZING SELF-TIE

Then, an unknown amount of time later we heard a commotion, footsteps and voices coming up the stairs. The hairs on the back of my neck, covered in sweat and bunched up by my turtleneck, began to stand on end. The lock was undone and the door swung open. I heard high heel footsteps coming closer and the blonde—Supergirl-- started softly admonishing us to behave, as she undid the ropes securing us to the bed and each other. The handcuffs, rope around our wrists and legs, and chests stayed on, but we were both scooted down off the bed to a seated position on the floor.

She removed our blindfolds and moved us each to opposite posts of the wooden bed, pulled out some more rope and wound this around our necks, first Jake and then me. She tied it off on the post, so that we would be unable to move from that spot, without strangling ourselves. Jake protested bitterly through his duct tape gag. I did too, but the leather gag filled my mouth and all I could sense was drooling from out the edges, which dripped down on the ropes surrounding my chest.

“Now you boys be good there, you understand? We are going to have a treat for both of you so just stay put—like you could do anything else,” she laughed maniacally. Shortly after another guy was brought up the stairs, blindfolded and handcuffed, with leg irons on too. His mouth was duct taped shut. The chains rattled as he took each step up. Wonder Woman escorted him over to the wooden chair that Jake and I had occupied not so long ago—sometime yesterday would be my guess now. She forced his arms over the high back and pushed him down to the seat, released one leg iron and secured this behind the leg and slats at the bottom of the chair, making it impossible for this guy to run. He didn't have any shoes on.

Strange, for some reason this long haired dude was not complaining. It was almost like he liked what was happening to him. Wonder Woman started tying various thicknesses of rope to the top of the chair back, and made little piles of rope at the bottom of the chair. She did the same with ropes at his ankles, knees and waist. She removed the guy’s blindfold.

“Ok you guys, we’re going to have a lesson for the two of you,” Wonder Woman said, at us. “This new boy is going to tie himself up, completely, based on our instructions.”

I glanced over at Supergirl and could see she had a gun in her right hand, on her lap. She waved it to the new victim, and he nodded as if he understood not to try to escape. She began filming the scene before us, occasionally panning over to capture us both helplessly bound to opposite bed posts, with ropes around our necks.

“OK,” said the brunette, “we’re going to see if Bruce here can tie himself up—completely,” as she removed his handcuffs. This guy was now chained by his ankles to the chair, and still gagged with duct tape wrapped around and around his face. No way could he escape, I figured. Jake was squirming in his bonds, apparently disturbed by this show.

Bruce took some rope at his left ankle , above his ankle sock, and tied it expertly around and around, knotting it and leaving a long piece trailing. He did the same with his right ankle, and brought the end of the rope up and behind his back and threaded it through the middle slat on the chair, letting the end hang down. He continued doing this to the other rope.

The brunette walked over and undid his leg irons. “Now tie a knot between these two ropes behind your back and lift each ankle up off the floor. Bruce complied and seemed to close his eyes and feel his way to the ropes, securing them in a double knot, after lifting his ankles up. His feet were now off the floor, hanging. He tied more rope round each knee.

“Take the long rope around your stomach and tie your arms to the chair,” she directed, as Bruce began winding the rope around and around, pulling tightly at her every command, securing himself to the chair, more and more, around each arm at the elbow by threading the loose ends of the ropes, pulling tightly before knotting.

I watched in amazement as Bruce worked so expertly at tying himself up. He took more rope and tied it around his right elbow from the top of the chair, and wound it in a tight weave all the way down to his wrist, tying a knot several inched up his forearm with great ease. He did the identical tying to his left arm, and then brought his right arm behind his back, pulled another long, thin piece of hemp rope down from the top and wound it around his forearm, stopping every few circles, to thread the rope up through the ropes surrounding his chest and looping this around his right wrist, pulling his wrist and forearm up to a right angle with the chest ropes.

Now he did the same with his left wrist, bringing it securely up on a right angle to the horizontal mass of rope around his chest. He grabbed another strand and started encircling his wrists in a figure eight, stopping every few times to make a knot, out of sight, behind his back, pulling and tightening the ropes binding his wrists together, yanking the rope sideways and looping it around some loose strand, knotting this and pulling more rope around his wrists, to the point that he looked like he definitely was not going to escape.

The two girls walked up aimed the camera closer and inspected the self-bondage we had just witnessed. Bruce made a half-hearted attempt to escape but Wonder Woman just finished the job, by releasing the ropes from the top of the chair and tying any loose ends more tightly. She blindfolded Bruce. Finally, she pulled the ropes leading to his ankles into several loops around his wrist, making any tug by his feet tighten the ropes around his wrists.

Now there were three of us helpless at these girl’s hands.
9185462d-4804-4316-a4d3-67ba971abf48[1].jpg
Bruce's self tie
9185462d-4804-4316-a4d3-67ba971abf48[1].jpg (25.07 KiB) Viewed 4665 times

Re: Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby Zandor » Mon Jan 28, 2013 6:06 pm

Keep going Jack.
You are q immortal

Re: Chair Bound (PG-17) m/m/f/f

Postby MattyH » Sat Feb 23, 2013 6:17 pm

Delete