Postby sarobah » Fri Sep 05, 2008 4:35 pm
Day Two
It was heavily overcast when we got started on the second leg of our trek. While the cloud cover was welcome as we trudged up the mountainside, the threat of rain lingered all morning. However, by early afternoon as we approached our objective, the sky had cleared. We had traversed several extensive ridges, scrambling up and down gullies, plodding over corrugated ground that in the space of a few steps would turn from sunbaked hard to sodden, soft and greasy. Sometimes the trail was as broad as your outstretched arms and as clearly defined as though it had been paved with mudstone terrazzo. In other places it almost disappeared into the enveloping shrubbery and it was near impossible for me to see even Matt, trudging just ahead. Yet Rachel, at the front of the line with a topographic map, a keen sense of direction and unfailing optimism, kept us unerringly on track.
Around two in the afternoon, we established camp in a clearing amidst a stand of beech trees, on the bank of a small creek that emptied into a pond about the size of a domestic swimming pool. Again, I had to admit that the setting was sublime. A carpet of grass verged the pond, emerald green and soft as velvet, and here we pitched our tents. The perimeter of trees and its fringe of undergrowth gave us complete privacy. The little bubbling stream provided fresh water. A nearby pile of small boulders made an ideal hearth for our campfire.
The boys began collecting and chopping firewood, putting up the tents and digging a latrine. We girls unpacked the rest of the gear, which took just a few minutes. Then we stripped down to our bikinis and made for the water. Now I should say, in defence of self-reliant womanhood, that the guys insisted on doing all the heavy, hairy-chested manwork. But they felt obliged to show off their bushcraft; and I must say – rather spitefully – that the end result was no great tribute to their skills. The fire was somewhat less than robust, the tents were lopsided and the latrine was but a shallow trench of little use to man or beast. But they did their best. They were proud of their efforts and appreciative of our moral support – or at least of our bikinis. There were good feelings all round, and this was truly the proverbial calm before the proverbial storm.
I tested the pond with a tentative toe. It was crystal clear but icy cold, so we made a hasty retreat; and the boys, once their tasks were completed, decided that swimming was out of the question. They set off along the creek, Matt and Alex upstream, Rick and Oz downstream, to find a good spot for fishing. Hamish stayed behind, to put the finishing touches to the fireplace. It was his masterwork, and we tried not to disabuse him – except for Rachel.
She was in a playful mood. After teasing Hamish about the quality of his “erectionâ€, to escape retribution she made a sudden dash for the pond and plunged into the water. I, not wishing to be outdone in the impetuosity stakes, leapt in after her. Beth followed, wading in timidly. We were, of course, insane. The cold shock passed through my body like an electric charge.
Hamish witnessed our bravado with amusement, but Rachel continued to taunt him. He refused to take the bait.
“Why don’t you join us?†she finally said. “Afraid of shrinkage?â€
“Not a problem for you,†he responded, gesturing towards Rachel’s chest. I glanced down at mine. The effect of low temperature on a Lycra bikini top is outstanding, in the most literal sense.
Rachel made more disparaging remarks, flaunting our fearless audacity and impugning Hamish’s manhood. It was a straw too much, and as we emerged shivering from the water, a grappling match ensued. Beth and I joined the fray, and together we got the better of Hamish. At first, he was happy to be overpowered by three bikini-clad wenches; but Rachel got the idea of tying him up. The closest thing to hand was a surplus tent rope, so I grabbed it and began wrapping it around him. However, we quickly discovered how difficult it is to restrain someone when they are struggling desperately to evade the ropes. We gave up trying to force his flailing arms behind his back, but we managed to bind his wrists in front. Securing his thrashing feet was even harder; and just as we succeeded, the other guys returned to camp.
The battle of the sexes was now on. Rick dashed into the mêlée and quickly freed Hamish. After that, outnumbered and outmuscled, the girl team succumbed. Rick and Hamish went after Rachel. They dragged her to the ground and wrestled her onto her stomach. As this was happening, Beth tried to break for the safety of the trees, but she was tackled by Matt. He stumbled as he reached for her; but even as he hit the dirt he flung out a hand to grab her ankle and she went down with a yelp. Alex was immediately on top of her, forcing her face-down into the grass and wrenching her arms behind her back. She squealed in surprise. At the same time, Oz turned towards me, and I raised my hands and clasped them behind my head. Yet my surrender counted for nothing. I was pushed to the ground and onto my belly. Oz straddled my rear end and seized my wrists. And when Matt began stripping one of the tents of its ropes, I knew what we were in for.
Rick and Hamish had obviously never tied anyone up before, at least not someone fighting back, as Rachel was. Alex, while trussing a cowered Beth, was calmly calling out instructions: “Cross her wrists in the middle of her back... yeah, like that... now loop the rope around the wrists, then between them... that’s it, you got it.â€
Rachel gasped and grunted as Hamish took his revenge, binding her with the same rope she had used on him. Even so, she continued to struggle. Twice she managed to roll onto her back and once even to wriggle free, before being subdued. Rick sat on her backside, facing her feet and pressing on her knees. Hamish knelt by her side, tying her wrists and then her elbows with such rigour that they almost touched behind her back. Rick bound her ankles. Finally, with my brother’s guidance, they put her into a full hog-tie. She groaned and swore and spat out a mouthful of sod.
Alex continued his more methodical hog-tie of Beth, who was staring straight ahead, just blinking and making “o†and “oo†shapes with her mouth. Meanwhile, Matt hovered over everyone, proffering more advice: “Not too tight... but not so loose there... make sure the skin isn’t pinched... don’t choke her...â€
As a veteran of many tie-ups, I knew better than to offer resistance; but I did not escape a stringent hog-tie. Oz was efficient, but not gentle. He pinioned my arms as tight as they would go, pulling my shoulders backwards so emphatically that I was sure my bikini top would pop right off. Every muscle, every sinew was stretched and strained and twisted. On Matt’s advice, Oz looped the rope around my neck and ran the ends down my back to attach them to my wrists.
The three of us wallowed helplessly in the grass as our captors admired their handiwork. They had us in different variations of hog-ties. Rachel got the worst of it, because she was worked on by vengeance-seeking Hamish. Her hands were tied between her ankles, which meant that her knees and shoulders were raised off the ground. Her face was contorted, not so much with pain but with the effort of keeping her body arched backwards to ease the strain. She was puffing and making sighing noises; but when Rick leaned over her – whether to tighten or loosen the ropes I couldn’t tell – she rolled onto her side to evade his hands. Hamish used his foot to push her back in place – not a kick but an unkind shove nevertheless, with the heel of his boot.
Beth’s hog-tie, by contrast, gave her plenty of room for movement. Her knees were bent only at right angles and her feet were bound with ankles crossed, so she could adjust her posture and position. On the other hand, hers was the flimsiest bikini, and the tie-string bra-strap had come undone. Rick gallantly refastened it.
I was somewhere in between. Oz had tied my hands with my palms facing outwards, which was particularly hard on my arms, and like Rachel my elbows were bound as well. Fortunately, despite Matt’s guidance, he didn’t have the experience to secure the ropes properly, and after just a few minutes I was able to loosen them. Even so, this was one of my toughest challenges. The grass was starting to irritate my skin, and my arms and legs were beginning to ache badly. Loosening the hog-tie actually worked against me, because the more I relaxed my legs, the tighter was drawn the tether around my neck.
Rachel appeared to be coping well, even though the strain on her back and shoulders must have been immense. Whereas Beth was already showing signs of distress. She wasn’t frightened, and she was trying to laugh it off; but her laughter came out as a plaintive whimper; so I asked the boys to untie us. Matt – my own, dearest Matt – said we’d have to beg. So I pleaded with all the abject, fawning supplication I could contrive. The guys conferred, and they decided that one of us could go free. I knew it would be Beth and I made a show of complaining. Nonetheless, the choice suited me. I realized that the game wasn’t over and I was keen to find out what was coming next. Rachel likewise cursed them, but her smirking “I can take it!†expression said it all.
As Beth massaged the circulation back into her limbs, she gave us – Rachel and me – a strange look, sympathetic and censorious. She took a seat beside Rick, Oz and Hamish on a low mound while Matt and Alex put on a show with their two captives. They played with us for an hour or so, applying all sorts of tie-ups and gagging techniques to impress their audience and each other with their knowledge and skill. I could have spoilt their chest-thumping by reminding them who had taught them most of their tricks, but sometimes you’ve just got to let the boys have their fun. In any case, before long Rachel and I were moaning with exhaustion and frustration, as we struggled in ever more strict and intricate bondage. Yet each time Matt or Alex asked if we’d had enough, we sputtered “Do your worst!†or “Is that the best you’ve got?â€
Still, panache has a price, and I felt monumental relief when Matt finally began untying me. I didn’t even mind that he left my wrists bound as he helped me to my feet. Rachel and I studied each other, begrimed and bedraggled, and it was hard not to laugh at how pathetic we looked. It was now late afternoon, the sun was sliding quickly towards the mountain rim, the breeze was picking up and I was beginning to shiver in my bikini. However, our ordeal was far from over. For one of the guys said we needed a bath. We did, but not in the way five pairs of leering eyes were suggesting.
With our hands still tied behind our backs, Rachel and I were frog-marched down to the pond. We were made to kneel by the edge of the water as our fate was determined. In the end, the guys decided that the chore belonged to Beth. In a charitable mood I would say that they chose to leave us a tiny shred of dignity by not doing it themselves. In a less generous frame of mind, I reckon they were either chary of the ice-cold water or they wanted to see some girl-on-girl action.
I wasn’t going to be forced into the water, so mustering my pride, I got up off my knees and stepped in. I sat waist-deep, next to Rachel. The only mercy was that within a very short time our legs and backsides were numb. Beth did a thorough job of cleaning us, lathering and rinsing and scrubbing; maybe a little too thorough. I detected in her eyes a glimmer of vengeful glee... and maybe something else.
By the time we rose, teeth-chatteringly, from the pond, we were starting to turn an aesthetic shade of cerulean blue. Matt and Hamish towelled us dry – I hadn’t realized I was so wet in so many places. Finally, though, our hands were untied and we were allowed to change into something warm. When we emerged from the tent, Hamish was stoking the fire and Beth was laying out the cooking gear. Everyone acted like it was just a normal camping trip, and for the rest of the evening it was. By the time dinner was served and eaten, three of us at least were too tired for more fun and games.
Matt and I sat beside the campfire until the glow died away. By the time we went to bed, Beth and Rick were already asleep. We kissed and cuddled inside our sleeping bag for a while before the fatigue overcame us. Around midnight, I woke. Matt’s arms were folded around me and I didn’t want to rouse him, so I just lay still and listened to the sounds of the night. Something rustled just outside the tent – probably an owl or a possum. Off in the distance, crickets chirped and frogs croaked; and every so often there was a sudden and eerie silence. I drifted back into sleep, my last conscious thoughts of the day’s events, and how different this camping trip had turned out to be.
Day Three
I awoke to the glare of sunlight peeking cheerily though the open tent-flaps, to the sound of birds twittering furiously and a fire crackling merrily, to the aroma of frying bacon and simmering coffee. As I grumpily blinked away my stupor, I realized that I was the last one up. I had a vague recollection of Matt manoeuvring himself out of bed and telling me to go back to sleep.
The other tent had already been demolished, and Beth and Rachel were busy preparing breakfast.
“Why didn’t you wake me?†I demanded.
Beth chuckled. “We thought you might be tired after staying up late,†she said. “With Matt,†she added.
“Don’t be cheeky,†I replied. “Anyway, we were just giving you and the Rickster some quality time together.â€
Rachel loudly cleared her throat, to remind us of her unattached status, as she handed me a mug of coffee. Grateful, I changed the subject and helped with the last of the cooking, while the boys dismantled the second tent.
After breakfast, Beth, Rachel and I retired behind the treeline to get changed into our hiking clothes. On a whim, Rachel suggested that we should wear our bikinis, “To give the boys a treat.†She was like that, always a bit of a flirt. However Beth, rather to my surprise, readily agreed. She may have been new to tie-up games, but she obviously had a bit of the tease in her as well. On the other hand, I was less keen on the idea. We had some hard trekking ahead of us, across rugged terrain. I was thinking of something a little more substantial to protect me from the hazards of nature. Nevertheless, I bowed to peer pressure; and needless to say, our menfolk were more sensibly attired for a cross-country hike.
It was already turning sultry as we made ready for departure. Like we’d done the previous two days, since we had to carry all our clothing and equipment on our backs, we distributed the weight evenly amongst us, with allowance for size. As the smallest in the group, I had the lightest burden, just my own personal belongings and two sleeping bags. Matt and Rick hauled the heaviest loads.
It was when we were kitted up and set to go that Matt did something which changed the tenor of our adventure. It was probably on impulse rather than planned. He made a show of checking my backpack to make sure everything was secured and balanced. Then he came round and stood directly in front of me. Everyone else turned to see what was happening – except Alex, who was already facing us, aware of exactly what was going on. Matt told me to hold out my arms. I did so, and when I saw the cord in his hands, I immediately placed my wrists together. Matt wrapped the cord around several times and cinched them. Like an expert, he made sure the knot went underneath so it would be virtually impossible for me to untie it with my teeth. When she realized what he was up to, Rachel just smiled and shrugged her shoulders; while Beth did a rather comical double-take.
Alex was the first to react. He moved up behind Rachel, took hold of her arms and tried to pull them behind her back. She didn’t resist, but her backpack prevented him completing the job. She compliantly turned about and allowed my brother to bind her wrists in front of her, like mine. He then went further, looping the rope around her waist and securing her bound wrists to it. Matt tried to do the same to me, but the rope wouldn’t reach all the way. So he did the next best thing – he ran the cord under my bikini pants. He was gentleman enough to do it under the side strap, but then pulled it to the centre. Thus bound, I could not raise my hands above my belly button.
Taking the lead from my brother and boyfriend, Rick stepped forward to do the same to his girl. At first Beth balked, then she sort of laughed – sort of – and submitted. Meanwhile, the other two guys were standing off to the side, looking on and feeling left out of the game. Because I felt just a little sorry for them, when Hamish called to Matt, “Why don’t you gag her?†I impulsively said “Why not indeed?â€
Rachel and Beth watched with ever-widening eyes as my boyfriend reached into Alex’s pack, drew out a clean pair of socks and methodically rolled and wadded them. I glanced at the girls and winked as I opened wide my jaws and accepted the woollen ball. It was dry and astringent against my lips and tongue.
Matt said “Okay?†and I nodded.
Alex had already rummaged through Matt’s pack (remember, we had them on our backs by this stage), when Rachel said “Do meâ€â€“ probably not the most apt words in the circumstances. Moments later, always the drama queen, she was issuing muffled protests. Beth, however, was adamant that she was not going to be gagged, and nobody was going to force her. In reaction to that, Rachel frowned and complained even louder – which came across as a ridiculous gurgling noise – as she suddenly regretted her own acquiescence.
Since Hamish had suggested the gags, Oz decided that he too must make a contribution. He poked around in Oz’s pack and came up with three more coils of rope. I wondered what he was up to, until he tied a noose at the end of one piece and dropped it over my head. He adjusted it around my throat, leaving a length of about two metres, which he handed over to Matt. My boyfriend grinned with approval. Rachel was next, tethered with Alex; and this time Beth was accommodating. I think I even saw a little shiver of excitement when Rick fastened her leash.
As we set off up the first ridge, I began to comprehend what I had let myself in for. Yet for the first couple of hours, it was fun, in an adrenalin-inducing way. Twice the track cut across a public road, and we had to crouch down in the ditch at the side in case there was traffic. It would not do for unsuspecting motorists to see us – three bikini-clad captives, hands bound at the waist, being led on halters into the forest by five teenage boys. We once came close to panic when we thought we were about to encounter another group of travellers on the path. It turned out to be a scrub turkey, nearly as spooked as we were.
Matt amused himself by every so often hauling in my leash and forcing me into a quickstep to catch up with him. Rachel, who was up ahead with my brother, was having a harder time of it, stumbling a couple of times and once ending up on her knees in the greasy mud. That surprised me, since I had always considered myself the klutzy one. She was lithe, athletic and graceful of movement – though obviously not when bound, gagged and tethered. She was still our guide, though Alex now had the map and was leading the way. If he lost the trail when it vanished in the undergrowth, she would make frantic, unintelligible noises, gesture with her bound hands and point with her feet to make him understand. It was funny to watch, but she was getting quite worked up about it, especially when he pretended not to comprehend.
The first regret I experienced had nothing to do with anything the boys did to us. It was that I had given in to Rachel’s impulse and worn my bikini. Low-hanging tree branches and strands of underbrush were lashing and lacerating my bare arms and legs and torso – nothing serious, but a constant irritation that, with my hands bound and immobilized, I could neither prevent nor relieve. Then there was the sweat which dribbled into my eyes, and the insects which buzzed around my face and – despite layers of repellent – tormented my flesh. After that, I began to get thirsty. My gag had become soaked with my saliva, which dribbled down my chin. Far from alleviating the thirst, this made it worst by draining the moisture from my throat.
By midday, nearly five hours into our trek, I was feeling miserable; but there was also the sense of elation I always feel during a long tie-up session – that my physical endurance and mental stamina has been tested and reaffirmed. This, after all, was the thrill that lay at the heart of all my tie-up adventures, the struggle against not just the ropes but my limits and limitations.
When we took a respite near the summit of a particularly steep ridge, the boys removed Rachel’s and my gags and allowed us a drink and a few bites to eat. We weren’t permitted to speak. Beth needed to relieve herself in the bushes, so she was unbound, but immediately tied again when she returned. We rested half an hour and got ready to move out. However, maybe we should have kept our gags on all the time, because Rachel’s mouth got herself – and by association Beth and me – into trouble again. She never learned; or maybe she learned too well. Rachel was inscrutable.
I didn’t hear exactly what she said, but it was a boast along the lines of how tough we girls were – tougher than the guys, or some such thing. So Alex took the initiative to discipline his unruly captive. He thrust the gag into her mouth, which she passively accepted. Then he began detaching parts of his backpack and loading them onto hers.
“Here you go, tough girl.â€
I watched Rachel’s knees slowly bend as the weight increased, before she straightened herself with pride and resolution. Then she looked apologetically at me and Beth, as the other guys followed my brother’s lead. As we moved off again, bound, gagged and leashed, we girls were carrying most of the gear. Each step became a chore. The straps of my pack began to burn into my bare shoulders. Every so often my legs buckled under the strain and I sank to me knees, to be helped up again my Matt, or by Rick who was directly behind me. Yet it was exhilarating, and invigorating, fighting back the fatigue and the pain. As much as I resented the guys, with their burdens reduced at our expense, I enjoyed the challenge. Nevertheless, it came as a blessed relief to be standing on the crest of the ridge, looking out over the valley towards our destination. We still had several hours of walking ahead, but our objective was in sight, a distant grove of trees nestled in a bend of the river.
By the time we reached it, the sun was hovering near the horizon. We made camp on a verdant hillside. Like the previous locations, it was pretty and secluded. Rachel, Beth and I waited patiently as the men reconnoitred the site. Only then were we untethered and untied. Shedding my pack, I spat out some lint, exercised my jaws and massaged my wrists. After a hard day’s trekking we were filthy, the mud-plastered Rachel in particular from her tumble over the log in the forest. I nursed the wounds on the backs of my thighs, not serious but irritating. I stretched my arm and leg muscles.
Alex laughed. “Don’t get used to it,†he warned.
“Oh no,†Beth sighed, as my brother seized my arms, turned me around and bound my wrists behind my back. Matt did the same for Rachel, and I wondered how Beth would respond; but she meekly surrendered. She wasn’t going to show it, but I think she was starting to enjoy the game. The gag, however, was an addition she hadn’t counted on. As she started chomping the wad and working her jaws around it, I realized that this was probably the first time she had been gagged.
We received the same treatment as yesterday’s, though with a few extras and refinements, such as crotch ropes and breast bondage. Except that I was already gagged, I would have had a good giggle at poor Oz as he wrapped my boobs in rope. He was a good deal more embarrassed than I. And it was amusing, between my winces, to see the boys cringe as Matt pulled hard on my crotch rope.
They toyed with us for a while longer, but it was starting to get dark. Matt as usual took command. He bent over Beth and prodded at her ropes. “If we untie you, do you promise to obey?â€
Panting through her gag, she closed her eyes and nodded. He untied her.
Rachel and I were left helpless and squirming, as Beth and the boys set up the tents and laid out all the necessary equipment. Only then were we allowed up, although we were kept gagged and our hands were tied in front. That’s how we had to prepare dinner, although we were permitted to remove the gags to eat. We were still in our bikinis, and it was freezing when we moved away from the fire. We were also still filthy – as well as a bit smelly.
After we’d cleared away the dinner debris, Rachel humbly asked if we could clean ourselves. Matt consented, but our hands would stay bound. A couple of the lads, Rick and Oz, frowned at this. I think they were feeling a twinge of conscience over our treatment throughout the day. They were still having trouble getting their heads around the fact that it was us much our game as it was theirs. However, they didn’t object when Matt ordered us – including Beth – to stand just outside the circle of light cast by the fire. We were told to strip each other and toss our bikinis into the circle. We obeyed without hesitation, mainly because, in the cold, any movement was good movement. Rachel and I were both wearing halter-neck tops, so we could get them off with our wrists bound. Beth stripped me, Rachel took care of Beth and I did Rachel. The boys never saw much, as there was more shadow than show. Then we raced for the river bank, screeching as we flung ourselves into the frigid water.
When we emerged, violently trembling, we were thrown a single towel. We each had to stand naked and shivering, until we had each dried herself. The boys invited us to stand by the fire, but we graciously declined. Finally, though, covering our naughty bits with our hands, we took seats on the far side of the flames from the guys. I have to say that, once the chill has been dispelled, sitting close to a roaring campfire in nothing but your bare skin can be a most pleasurable sensation.
I asked if we could be untied now, and we were given permission. Rachel tried to free my wrists, but with her own still bound and the knot wet and shrunken, it was too difficult. I tried hers, with similar results. Hamish volunteered his services, but we told him to stay on his own side. Beth eventually did the job, though with great difficulty. Then we all just sat and talked and joked and told stories, as if there weren’t three nude females sitting on logs in the cheery orange glow of the campfire.
Rick was the first to give in to the mood. He stood up, came round to stand in front of Beth and held out his hand. She took it and they headed towards the tent. As she leaned forward to enter, he ran his hand down her naked back and caressed her bare bottom. I turned to Rachel, who winked and gave a little smirk. But she had an odd look on her face; and sometime later she got up to leave. I watched her enter her tent and re-emerge with her sleeping bag. She took it across to my tent, where Rick and Beth were (probably by now) sleeping. I couldn’t blame her, after all that had happened, not wanting to share with three guys.
Once again, Matt and I were the last to retire. Rachel, Beth and Rick were asleep. There was no chance of having any fun without waking them, so we just kissed and Matt treated me to a little fondling before the effects of another exhausting day closed in around us.