The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Sun May 05, 2013 5:10 pm

It took me a few moments to get my bearings. I felt groggy (from the chloroform, no doubt) and when I tried to move I felt like a fly stuck in amber. I could see, under the bandana covering my eyes, some light and my predicament. There was rope covering almost my entire body, molding me to the metal chair I was bound to.

I struggle anyway—mightily at times, all to no apparent avail. And to make matters worse, I detected rope around my neck, attached to the chair behind my back. Whenever I moved forward these ropes seemed to tighten, like a noose. No way was I gonna strangle myself, I thought, but that just made me more frustrated.

My hands were bound with mounds of rope, and they were secured to the mass of thick rope holding my chest to the chair back. Both wrists were pulled up behind my back, and no matter how much I flailed my fingers, no knot could be found. DAMN!

My moods went from anger to frustration to despair, and then, most unexpectantly, peaceful tranquility—when I felt like there was no escape and they left me alone. But this feeling quickly dissipated when the two guys who kidnapped me were around.

“That’s a mighty fine package you wrapped up there,,” one of them said. I felt this guy reaching up for my face, placing my chin and jaw in a tight grip. I instinctively drew back but the other guy just grabbed the back of my head and held it in place. Mean laughter.

“You, my sorry-assed trussed up friend are in some real trouble,” He continued. “We know you work at that big bank downtown and you’re gonna get us a nice haul to release you,” he pinched my cheeks together and smoothed the duct tape wrapped around my mouth, pushing it more tightly to my face.

“Mmmmppphhh, aaarrrrggghhh!” I swore. They laughed.

“Go ahead, struggle all you want—Jason here is gonna guard you and he’s been instructed to add more rope anytime you try to escape.” Just to make his point Jason grabbed a length of soft cotton rope and began winding it slowly, from the base of my neck, above the rope already there, and gradually rounded under my chin, causing me to have to tilt my head back. I felt him securing the end of this rope to the top rung of the chair. If I leaned forward I could feel the rope tighten.

“Uuummmhhh. Sssttooopppp!” I yelled, closing my eyes tightly and squirming my displeasure at these two fiends. How long was I going to be their kidnapped prisoner? And what would happen if my bank refused to pay or something goes wrong either way. Up shit’s creek. I knew I had to find a way out. But how?

The one guy, I’ll call him Mike cause I never heard his name—left, and told Jason to watch me while he did some business. I heard him taking a series of photos just before he left and could see a newspaper on my lap as he did this, probably to show today’s date.

Jason put the TV on and the lighting seemed to get dimmer—like sunset maybe. The blue TV light flickered on the walls bouncing off my rope cocoon. I tried to turn my wrists in their massive ropings, but they barely budged. I struggled, trying to pull the ropes apart, but only managed to do two things: build up a sweat and cause Jason to come back with more rope. This time it was real thin hemp, which he tied around my wrists and then ingenuously threaded around my two thumbs, placing them in a thumb-like handcuff, cinching the loops surrounding my thumbs. Now there would be no way to escape without the use of my thumbs. Mike laughed and grabbed me around the neck from behind.

“Keep trying to escape boi; it just makes me want to tie you up even more. And,” he paused for effect, “I have all night. Don’t you look pretty all tied and gagged,” he said, as he place a full-length mirror in front of me and pulled my blindfold up enough so I could appreciate my predicament more fully.

Jason appeared to be a young man, maybe 22, model kind handsome, strong and well-built with broad shoulders and arms bulging in his red flannel shirt, with a narrow waist, faded tight blue jeans, engineer boots and a set of handcuffs hanging off his wide black belt.

And there were coils of rope all around this room, some open, and all different thicknesses, ready for Jason to bind me even more.

“I’m screwed” I swore to myself.
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:22 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby tiedlad » Mon May 06, 2013 2:45 pm

Wow! Awesome so far, hope to see more!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby xtc » Mon May 06, 2013 3:15 pm

It's great to read the start of another offering from you, Jack.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby Jack Roper » Wed May 08, 2013 8:08 pm

Thanks guys, It feels good to be back. Whether this story will last, who knows. I dedicate it to a friend of mine in Germany.

Part II

Guess I should tell you a little bit about how I got into this predicament. My name is Tommy and I work for the President of a big bank in Dusseldorf, Germany. The President, Gabriel Manning, uses my services to perform “go-fer” type duties. On that fateful Monday (which I think was yesterday, but I don’t know how long I was out cold) She asked me to deliver some documents in her BMW limo. I love it when I am out on the road, free and getting paid for it.

I dressed semi-casual for work, and believe I have on the same clothes as yesterday: a blue button-down long-sleeve striped shirt, long-sleeve white, tight undershirt, light brown slacks, a brown belt and my brown shoes and socks. No tie! As I rounded the corner looking for parking I paid very little attention to the van that pulled up right behind me and parked. I grabbed my leather jacket; put it on, and the packet for the branch office. It was late and the sun had already started disappearing but just before the streetlight turned on.

As I walked past the open side door of this old gray panel truck, a guy in black jeans and hooded red sweatshirt, with sunglasses and some kind of mask around his nose and face, jumped in front of me and grabbed my arms, throwing me roughly onto the carpeted van floor. I lost my breath for a few seconds, giving them just enough time to overwhelm me.

“What the f---k!” I screamed as the second, younger guy, who I now know as Jason--my binder-- in red flannel shirt, blue jeans and ski mask grabbed me around my neck and put me in a choke hold. He thrust a thick, putrid smelling rag over my mouth and nose (which I assume was chloroform, based on movies and stuff). My screams were now almost completely muffled, and the roaring evening traffic drowned out the sounds of my useless flailings.

Jason shoved my legs into the van and slammed the side door. He sat on my legs and started binding them, quickly, with duct tape. The last thing I remember was one of them saying: “Get his hands bound…..” I was out cold.

Jason's watching TV and the evening news is just coming on. I can see the light flickering and I hear something that makes my blood go cold, “The Police are still searching for the missing bank employee (they give my name and my age-32) who was apparently kidnapped last night from downtown.

“If you have any information….” The station got changed. I hear footsteps coming my way.

A surprisingly gentle hand reaches up and holds my gagged face. “Looks like you’re famous kid. Let’s hope that you have some real value since you’re so high up on the corporate ladder.”

Little does Jason known I just got the job and am hardly one of the bank’s most valued employees. I wonder what amount of money they’re going to ask for?

I struggle in my ropes, shifting up and down ever so slightly, feeling the ropes tighten that are encircling my neck. I can feel Mike wadding something up and shoving it in my ears. Then I hear duct tape being unraveled, as he starts wrapping around my head, covering my ears. My ability to hear is almost completely gone now. “Damn!”
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby wataru14 » Thu May 09, 2013 5:21 am

Awesome! Can't wait for more!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby mikeybound » Thu May 09, 2013 6:08 am

Nice. I wonder how far they'll go with this captive.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby Jack Roper » Thu May 09, 2013 2:29 pm

I wonder about that too!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m)

Postby Jack Roper » Fri May 10, 2013 6:29 pm

My wonder just ceased. here's the next chapter. Think this is getting PG17 so I'll revise that here now. Let me know what you think, good or bad, about this story. Thanks.

Part III

I see Jason going over to pick up his cell-phone, but can’t really make out much more than mumbles—like my ears were gagged now too! He suddenly takes off his ski mask, and comes in my full view. I can identify one of my kidnappers now—“jeez—I’m a goner now,” I thought. But—Jason is beyond cute; he’s full on Abercrombie & Fitch cute. Man! I’ve always been jealous of such good-looking guys—they make me tongue-tied—yeah, another restriction, or bondage ensnaring little old me. Of course, because I’m not gay—or so I tell myself.

Shit! I’m getting a boner and Jason's just reaching me. Surely he’s gonna notice and…..

“Hey boi!” he yells as he starts rapidly removing the duct tape over my ears, taking the wadding out too—and says, “Is that a Remington in your slacks, or are you glad to finally see me?” He laughs …”but I don’t have time for this right now,” as he squeezes my crotch and stroked my engorged dick, “We’ve got to get moving. Bud just said ‘yo git quick!’”

I feel him removing rope wrapped around my wrists and upper arms—maybe even connected to the noose ropes holding me to this chair, which all fall away rapidly. My thighs, knees and ankles are quickly freed, and I stand up, still thoroughly gagged.

“Mmmmmgggggggrrrrhhhfff!” I mutter, saying, Please take this gag off!”

It was then that I realized I was still pretty much tied up. There was rope wrapped around each of my upper arms, and it was cinched at each elbow, which was at a right angle. My wrists were quickly secured behind my back—again-- at right angles. I could feel course hemp rope being wound expertly around my wrists, with rope being pulled, knotted and tied off—out of my sight. Lots of cinching too! There was still lots of rope wrapped around my legs, but I could walk. It was like I was tied up twice, if you get the picture.

Jason shoved me forward into the bathroom. “You must have to go bad!” he said. My boner was still there and who knows what Jason would see if he whipped out my cock. I screamed “NO!” and he seemed to get it, as he hustled me up the stairs into the garage, where the van was parked. He grabbed a ten foot length of soft cotton rope and made an instant noose for around my neck.

“My leash,” he laughed as he placed me quickly onto the shag carpet of the van. He jumps in and pulls out a pair of leg irons. But these are much bulkier than standard Police irons. Each ankle collar must have been 3-4 inches wide and ½” thick, with a heavy chain running maybe 18 inches over to the other iron.

“Don’t do anything stupid boi,” he says, looking me in the eye and smiling, as he pulls them closed and grabs a lock, snapping each cuff on my ankles. For some reason I just let him. I could have kicked him, maybe, and run, but something about his manner was intoxicating my senses.

“There is very little slack, and no way out of these without a key,” Jason says. The chain rattles as I move. I’m all bound up and gagged again, and in only a few minutes. Who is this guy? A professional kidnapper?

The stud ties the leash to the driver’s seat, making me lie down on my side. The rope pulls, again like a noose. I test it and if I pull against it the ropes tightened. He decides to roll me onto my stomach and I feel my boner get squeezed. He ignores my wincing and wraps some rope around the leg iron chain, and pulls these irons to a bolt about eight feet down to the back of the van. I am now stretched out and have very little room to maneuver. Jason then throws a blanket over me and says:

“It won’t be long now. Your new life awaits you! Keep your trap shut and maybe you’ll make it out alive after all. I think I could use a good-looking guy like you to be my little slave around my ranch,” he pats my ass a few times—almost a spank.

I feel extreme fear, terror, excitement and erotic tension, all wrapped up together.

“Slave?” I let that thought sink in. Could I ever be some guys slave? And what would Jason, and his lover most likely, want me to do, and more importantly, what would they want to do to me? My hard-on suddenly returned.
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby mikeybound » Sat May 11, 2013 7:45 am

Tell that sounds rather dangerous.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Sun May 12, 2013 8:22 pm

Mikey-- I'm not sure what you mean--the noose, or the kidnapping? Keep in mind this is fiction so I hope I have some leeway. I am trying to keep it fairly realistic though, so here's the next chapter.

Part IV--(PG-17)

The van rolled over quite bumpy roads after a while, and the jolts and bumps caused me to have a hard time staying in one position. Remember, I had a tightening noose around my neck. I had to keep this from getting any tighter. Plus my hardon was not going away. In fact, I could feel the heat of orgasm building, and tried to prevent it from happening. But the feeling of being completely bound, chained, and gagged—with a noose around my neck no less—created an explosive orgasm, more powerful than any I have ever experienced in my whole life!

“MMMMPPPPHHHHH, MMMPPPHHH!!!” I screamed into my thick gag. I felt waves of intense pleasure continuing to pulse through my body, and when I struggled again in my cocoon of ropes, the feeling intensified—like every nerve ending was exposed.

“Keep it down back there, big boi,” I hear Jason yell. This brought me quickly back to my reality: a kidnapped businessman, who might be someone’s slave. I almost fell asleep in my strange reverie, but the bumpy road only seemed to get worse. The van suddenly stopped and my body was thrown sideways. I felt the noose tighten.

“HHHHMMMPPP!” I yelled. I heard the van door open and close and then the sliding door opened. The blanket that was still covering me was thrown off.

“Here, let me check on your condition, boi. Don’t want to damage the package too much, do we?” Jason intoned. He reached over and instantly saw that the noose had tightened so he removed it entirely. ‘Quite a sensation, huh, almost getting strangled. It puts so much into perspective so quickly.” He got that right!

The “freedom” of no noose was soon replaced by a metal collar, maybe 1 and 1/2 inches wide, 1/2 inch thick, that he fitted quickly around my neck, slapping a lock through the hasps. “CLICK!” The metal collar was fairly snug—not chokingly so, but like a really rigid turtleneck maybe. It caused me to keep my chin up high. He attached the rope to one of the multiple hooks as his leash, I guess, and went down to my feet and loosened the leg iron rope, pushing me gently towards the door, where I hopped down, almost falling due to the short, thick chain securing the heavy metal cuffs around my ankles. Mike grabbed the rope from the collar and pulled me upright.

I looked around at my surroundings, since my blindfold was now off. It was a really isolated house with thick trees and shrubs all around, and a high metal fence with barbed wire on top, maybe electrified, I thought, and a heavy iron gate, which Jason quickly locked and shuffled me into the dilapidated barn behind the main house.

The wooden door creaked as he shoved me inside. I noticed that the sun was now going down, and rays of sunlight shot through the slats in the western side of the barn. It was relatively dark inside and Jason hustled me over to near a support beam, with a hayloft on top. He told me to stand still and I complied since there was no way I could outrun him. He grabbed a leather contraption and began strapping the numerous heavy black leather straps around my head, securing my already duct taped mouth behind a thick leather gag, which tightened even more when Mike adjusted the straps. My head was in a leather face mask and gag with lots of duct tape under this!

He grabbed some rope from above me, which I could see was connected to the ceiling and tied this off to the ring on top of my head, pulled me completely upright, almost taking me off my toes. “Mmmppphhh!” I screamed. He just laughed.

“Quiet boi,” he soothed, “this may be your only exercise today so take advantage of it.” I didn’t know what he was talking about until he disappeared out the door and slammed it shut. I heard another lock being secured and a loud “CLICK!” I was swinging around trying to get loose. It was like walking in circles.

The sun shone almost horizontally on me now, and I could hear my leg irons clanging on the wooden floor. I twisted around and tried to get the rope off my wrists, which were tied up tight at right angles to my chest ropes. No luck—no reachable knots that I could find. I started sweating profusely from all of my useless struggles. My shirt, still bound with lots of rope around my chest, was soaked and clinging to my body. I could feel sweat dripping down my face and I screamed quite a lot—to no avail.

I must have been struggling in my ropes and chains for over an hour because now the sun was almost completely set. The cold German night air cooled me off considerably and I hung by this leather head contraption in absolute frustration now. Then it happened again, my hardon returned.

And just then I heard footsteps approaching me in my bondage prison, the lock was opened and the door swung open. It was Jason, and he walked over to me and grabbed me around my chest and held me in a tight hug. “Enjoying your first day of slavery boi?” he asked, feeling my bulge, smiling and then reaching his right hand down to my stiff cock.

“Looks like you’re enjoying this quite a bit. You may just be a keeper for me!” He caressed my engorged member faster and faster and brought his face closer to my gagged mouth and pressed his lips hard against the gag, closing his eyes. like he was kissing me. I think this guy was making love to me, of course, in his own weird way, but, damn, he was turning me on, and then it happened again, an explosive orgasm, almost as powerful as the first. He didn’t even get a chance to take my cock out of my now soaked pants. What was happening to me?

I nearly passed out and Jason quickly undid the rope holding me upright, and lowered me on a pile of hay, lying down next to me, with his hot breath in my face, saying, “You’re mine now Tommy, but I'm gonna gave to punish you if you keep cumming in your pants,” He said sternly. We lay there like that for quite some time and we even fell asleep.

“What next?” I thought as I drifted off with a gorgeous guy holding my bound body in his embrace. “This can’t be real!”
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby mikeybound » Sun May 12, 2013 8:29 pm

Another great chapter. Nothing else to say.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Mon May 13, 2013 8:01 pm

Part V

I woke up naked inside Jason’s house, on his living room plush carpet. All of my ropes and that gag had been removed. The only thing still binding me was the leg irons. I was very groggy, just like the first knock-out. Jason must have chloroformed me again, and carried me over his shoulder.

“Finally awake, huh?” Jason asked. “Time for a shower and some food, boi!” He grabbed a length of rope and pulled me to my feet, securing this rope around my neck like a leash—again. He shuffled me into the bathroom and attached the leash to a ceiling, about a three-foot higher than the top of my head, making it loose enough for me to bend over and wash my feet, but just barely.

“Go ahead boi, take a shower. It might be your last one for some time, I figure.”

He closed the glass door and locked the bathroom door from the outside. I noticed there was just a large vent inside—no window. Like I could climb out wearing heavy irons! I took a long, hot shower. You’d be surprised how stiff your body gets when you’re tied up for a long time. I’ve fooled around playing rope games with my girlfriend a few times, but nothing like this. I dried off quickly and combed my short blonde hair.

Jason opened the door after fiddling with the lock and untied the leash and walked me into the living room again. He pointed to a pile of clothes on a chair, for me to put on. “Put the t-shirt and sweater on first,” he advised, handing me a thick waffle style long-sleeve t-shirt. It was a snug fit but fit me very well. I noticed Jason’s smiling and that his physique was similar to mine, but maybe he weighed 185, while I was at 165 lbs.

He handed me a heavy gray ribbed turtleneck, which I proceed to pull over the waffle shirt. The arms were down to my wrists and the neck must have been the length of my head because I got stuck getting it down. “Here, let me help you there boi!” as he pulled the neck down from over my forehead and folded it in half, making the neck portion bulk up under my chin.

"That looks cozy," he smiled, as I twisted my head back and forth, feeling the constriction of this turtleneck.

"Yes Sir," I answered almost involuntarily.

Jason reached over and grabbed for a long length of rope and started binding my wrists behind my back. “Is this really necessary?” I pleaded.

“Can’t have you running away, now can I, even with those chains,” Jason said as he completed wrapping my wrists in a tight x-tie. I felt my wrists being squeezed as he cinched the ropes in all directions.
He took the leg irons off (I knew this might be my one chance to escape, but I was naked from the waist down. I decided now was not the right time, as he pulled on a pair of tight jeans—skinny jeans I soon found out. My bulge was obvious again, even after two orgasms. His face was right there as he added a pair of thick white socks and placed the leg irons back over my ankles.

He shuffled me over to a tall backed wooden chair and had me loop my arms over the back. Then he began wrapping more ropes around my chest and secured me to the chair. He attached the leg irons to each opposite chair leg. I was bound up again!

“Now for dinner,” he said, after giving me a glass of milk---or so I thought. I gladly drank this as I was very hungry now. My stomach growled its appreciation, as he brought out a plate of hot dogs and beans. He squirted mustard onto both dogs and held one in front of my face. “Open up Tommy, let’s see how much you can swallow,” as he began to shove the hot dog in the mouth. I tried chewing it as fast as possible but he soon had my mouth full, like another gag—this time mad of food. Mustard dripped down my mouth . I mumbled my appreciation and he laughed.

‘Get use to swallowing eight inch dogs, boi, because it’s my specialty,” he laughed, grabbing his crotch suggestively. He gave me more milk, and then fed me large spoonfuls of baked beans, followed by the second hotdog, more beans and the rest of the milk. I was very satisfied now, even being tied up again. It was then I noticed a warm glow pulsing through my body, warming me, like some kind of drug. Something was in that drink. The music in the background slowly became enchanting, and it was elevator music! The lighting started to glow and I knew he had drugged me. It felt wonderful though, but was not something I normally engage in, at least not for many years now.

“You realize Tommy, I’m gonna have to gag you again,” he said almost apologetically, pulling out a white bandana and rolling a small rubber ball into it, thrusting this between my surprised lips.

“Please no gag…mmmppphhh!” I pleaded. He knotted this tightly behind my head.

He grabbed a roll of three inch gray duct tape and pulled off a 12 inch strip and plastered this right over the cleave gag. He added another 10 inch strip under my chin, securing my jaw in place. Finally, he placed some tape so it was two-sided over my now taped lips and wrapped a long soccer sock on top of this, tightly around my mouth and neck.

Bound and gagged again. “Maybe we can watch some TV if you behave,” Jason added, as he rotated my chair, which had wheels, towards a flat screen TV over the fireplace. He inserted a DVD of the first season of Teen Wolf, that MTV show from America. So there we were, me tied to a chair, drugged, going into erotic reveries as my senses became more and more heightened, with Jason falling asleep on the couch.

And I was enjoying my kidnapping more every hour that passed.
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby fratboydanny » Tue May 14, 2013 9:34 pm

Oh my this is another one of your masterpieces. Cant wait for more...

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Wed May 15, 2013 2:47 pm

Thanks Danny. Here you go....

Part VI

I must have fallen asleep at some point, maybe where Scott McCall was making love to Allison Argent and began turning into a werewolf. When I tried to open my eyes, everything was dark. Jason had blindfolded me again, this time with some thick material, maybe the other soccer sock. The ropes binding me to the chair remained, holding me tight.

My sensations were only heightened, and the sounds coming from Teen Wolf—at times animalistic and then hard rock--were flooding my being. In my mind’s eye images became vivid, which reminded me strongly of the one and only time I did MDMA—the so-called love drug. I wanted more than anything to experience another person’s warmth and affection.

I could hear Jason snoring in the background. I struggled for a while to get the gag out and off my mouth, by pushing the cleave gag (with that rubber ball inside it), but only managed to make moaning sounds and allow some saliva to drool down my mouth, which was trapped by the duct tape and sock!

When I turned my head from side to side the thick turtleneck caressed my neck, like I was being strangled by a very weak person—which, oddly, was also very erotic at that moment. I was floating inside my roped cocoon, struggling at times but then just giving up, sinking into my bondage and enjoying the helpless feeling.

Then the snoring stopped and I heard Jason stir. “Wow, two am already. This is a freakin’ long video,” he muttered, and then I felt his hands on my shoulders. “How you holding up boi? Would you like to go to sleep now? Have you noticed anything unusual about tonight?” obviously referring to the drug that now possessed me. I mmpphhhed incomprehensibly and he laughed.

“Let’s get you to bed now,” he said, as he began the process of removing all the ropes that held me to the chair. He helped lift my stiff body and my still roped hands up and over the high-back chair. My feet were still locked in those heavy irons. Jason asked me if I needed to use the bathroom and I nodded yes. When he removed my cock from those tight jeans I almost had another hard-on, which made pissing difficult. Urination felt wonderfully, and Jason's gripping my penis was remarkably sensuous in my drugged state.

After we took care of that he guided me—still blindfolded—into his bedroom, where he placed me roughly on the mattress. It felt good to lie down after sitting for so many hours. I could feel him securing my leg irons to the bed, and then he tied more rope around my elbows, wrapping maybe 60 feet of rope around and around 15 times, finishing it off by cinching each elbow.

Then he added another rope to those around my chest and attached this to the top of the bed. ‘That’s so you don’t roll out of bed tonight,” he said, as I could feel him climbing into bed with me. The cold night air blew in from an open window, and I was glad I had clothes on.

Jason began feeling me up—all over, hugging my bound body with his torso, squeezing me in his warm embrace. I could feel his hot breath on my face and, again, could sense he was kissing my gagged mouth. This was very strange to me (I am straight, right? I thought) but somehow it also felt completely natural and appropriate in my drugged consciousness. We began to melt into each other, or at least that’s what I felt. My hard-on returned, again, and I could feel Jason’s hard-on rubbing against mine… as he fell asleep!

Eventually, so did I.
Last edited by Jack Roper on Thu May 16, 2013 2:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby mikeybound » Wed May 15, 2013 4:39 pm

Nice you added Teen Wolf in this. Just what was he given?

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Wed May 15, 2013 10:25 pm

Keep in mind this is fiction, but I was thinking of Ecstasy (MDMA)--the so-called love drug. Maybe not a full tab.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Thu May 16, 2013 3:16 pm

Part VII

Summary: Tommy, a 32-year old bank employee is kidnapped by two young men and taken to their hideout, bound and gagged—and drugged with MDMA.


I really couldn’t sleep. The drug was keeping me acutely aware of everything now happening. Jason’s hot body was next to me, snoring fitfully at times, and then becoming totally relaxed, especially when he grabbed onto my roped-up body. The blindfold was very frustrating, because I very much wanted to see Jason as he was sleeping. My hard on stayed stiff for over an hour I would guess, and Jason eventually rolled over onto his back.

The music was still on in the next room, and it lulled me into a reverie unlike any I had ever felt. And this while being thoroughly bound in lots of rope, gagged, blindfolded and leg ironed, so to speak. At one point I rattled the chain link holding the heavy metal cuffs, and Jason stirred. I felt him laugh a little and then remove the tight blindfold from my eyes.

I could see Jason was decked out in a tight, white long-sleeve t-shirt (mine?) and long-johns. But those eyes! Sparking in the dim light from his fireplace; deep blue and beneath them an infectious smile with full lips, almost like a girl’s, that’s how pretty he was.

He was stroking his cock, and I could see it begin to bulge, and then asked me if I’d like to suck on it. I "mmmppphhh “maybe,” but all that came out was “mmmyyyyybbbbyy!” He began removing the soccer sock, then the duct tape and finally the cleave gag with ball.

“Thanks, Sir, but could I please have some water first?”

He got up and grabbed a glass from the bathroom, and was helping me drink it, when suddenly we heard the front door being opened in a rattle of keys.

‘Shit!” Jason said under his breath, as the bedroom door swung open and the other kidnapper stood silhouetted in the frame. I could just make out a surprised look followed by a frown, and the guy yelled:

“I leave you alone with this guy and now you’re fucking with him!” Are you crazy!” he yelled.

Jason jumped off the bed, and went between the two of us. “Hey, I was lonely,” he offered meekly. I could see his buns clearly now, like two perfect globes. Next thing I knew Jason went flying backwards as his partner struck him mightily across his chin. Jason fell and struck his head on the heavy wooden bed frame, and was out cold.

“As for you…” his “friend” started to say to me.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby mikeybound » Thu May 16, 2013 3:50 pm

I don't like this guy. How he gets his soon! The guy was a bit too eager to suck, but I suppose that could be the ecstasy talking.

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby tiednw » Thu May 23, 2013 1:52 am

This is turning into one of your masterpieces like usual!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Sat May 25, 2013 6:29 pm

Thanks. This took a while but here is the final chapter, for now. Hope you like it.

Part VIII

Bud was just as good at roping as Jason was, and he tied a lot more tightly. Maybe it was because he was still angry at Jason’s advances towards me, but he quickly grabbed a roll of duct tape and began unwinding it around my face.

‘Please, I can explaimmmmpppphhh!” was all I got out. In a matter of seconds the tape was wrapped maybe ten times around my mouth and back of my neck, even under my chin. He grabbed a bandana and blindfolded me and threw me down on the bed.

Helpless again! How many times was I going to be tied and gagged by these two? I thought. I could hear Bud talking gently to Jason, coaxing him back to consciousness.

“I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, as I could hear Jason begin to stir.

“What the hell….” Jason said.

This was followed by kissing noises—I thought—and the two of them going into the shower for maybe 20 minutes. My sense of time passing was all off, as the drug still coursed through my veins. All I could feel was a wave of love surrounding me and these two kidnappers and here I was securely tied in a mass of rope, leg irons on my ankles, gagged so I could barely make a peep, starting to sweat in the bulky turtleneck, which was now bunched up around my neck and chin. Some bliss!

Being blindfolded seemed paradoxically to enhance all of my senses—except sight, which I had only a sliver of—beneath the bandana. And the more I rolled around on the bed, with irons clanking, the more the blindfold slipped over my eyes, producing total darkness, eventually.

Then I felt two sets of hands begin to grab my body, one removing the leg irons, and the other pulling me upright off the bed. I was marched in the dark into the living room—I guess—and placed on a stout straight-backed chair. Jason pulled my bound arms over the top and secured the ropes to various spots all over the chair back. I could feel my ability to move become more and more restricted, anchoring me tightly to this chair. Bud tied my legs to the chair legs too, but lifted my ankles up off the floor so my feet could barely touch the floor. They just swung helplessly from ropes anchored all over the base of the chair.

Another rope was pulled around my neck, not real tight, but probably five or six times and tied off somewhere above my head, maybe to the ceiling. “So, Boi, here’s the scoop. You’re gonna stay put here in this chair. The rope around your neck means ‘don’t bother moving much,’ ‘because if you do you may just strangle,” Bud laughed.

I leaned forward and he was right. The ropes seemed to tighten. I pulled down on my hands and it tightened again. But if I backed off the noose loosened enough that I began to go into that meditative reverie again. I could hear them go into the bedroom and close the door.

Jason had turned on Teen Wolf again, and the sounds of wolves, bowling, love making and other sudden loud noises, drowned out my muffled screams to be let go. I knew they wouldn’t release me now, and that I was going to have to endure my roped cocoon for quite some time. I vowed to make it comfortable.

“Good night Tommy!” Jason said, as I heard the two of them making muffled love sounds behind the heavy wooden door. I screamed as loud as I could: “MMMMMFFFFHHHHHRRRRRGGGGHHHH!” and then sank back in the chair, straining mightily against the network of ropes restraining me for the next several hours.

I was hyper alert most of the time because of the noose, but being blindfolded and listening to Teen Wolf seductive music, frequently almost put me to sleep. The drug, however, kept me awake for most of the rest of that long night. The air got considerably colder and my sweaty turtleneck dried and, thankfully, kept me warm into the morning. The skinny jeans helped too.

I tried to find my way out of the ropes around my wrists, but they were pulled up behind my back at right angles. If I pulled down on them at all, the noose tightened more and more, so I had to keep my wrists fairly still. I wanted out of this—no matter how pleasant it felt. My fingers explored for the ropes around each wrist. They were tight, and seemed to be cinched every which way. I pulled and tugged, and felt all around, but nothing moved—until, one loop finally slipped off my right wrist.

This was enough to begin, ever so slowly to loosen more and more loops around my right wrist. Three or more loops on my left wrist tightened, as did the noose, but I didn’t care now—I could feel myself getting loose. Finally, my right wrist was free, and I struggled to release my left wrist. I reached up and pulled on the ropes around my chest until the cinching on the left loosened enough for me to remove the loops holding me to the chair. I yanked the noose loops off too, and bent down to untie my legs from the chair. All of this was taking me a great effort and much time, but I could see it was only 3:30 in the morning by a nearby clock. Snoring sounds came from the bedroom.

I got up off the chair, and quickly moved over to the front door, pulling on a pair of boots that seemed to be my size, tightening them up. I quietly opened the door, unlocking the two bolts, and slipped outside into the near freezing German air. I ran softly down the stair, which creaked noisily. There was very little light but I made my way down the driveway to the front gate. It was locked and there was a barbed wire fence around what seemed to be most of the property.

I was breathing heavily and I remembered I was still gagged—“Shit!”-- so I stopped and tried to feel the end, to get it off. It was almost like the tape had no end to grab but after a few minutes I found it and quickly unraveled the ten wraps, with the last one taking some of the hair off the back of my neck, and my now two day old beard. “Oucmmmppphh!” I yelled, gagging my mouth with my left hand.

I circled the property along the fence and came to a hole in the fence maybe 150 feet off to the side, and in the woods. I crawled through this hole, catching my turtleneck on a snag and having to get myself loose one more time. But I was now free. I ran, stumbling, through the woods, on a narrow path, towards the first light I could see, which was a car travelling rapidly down the country road. I tried to make it to the road but the car passed me too rapidly, and I was, again, in the dark. I half ran following the sound of that car, and ran and ran, until the sun came up and I reached a gas station. I must have gone many kilometers (miles).

Obviously I escaped, and my two kidnappers almost got caught. They didn’t; they had left before the Police arrived, but they never got any ransom either. I found out that my great boss refused to negotiate with Bud, because all she was offering was 20,000 Euros (or $25,900 dollars) when Bud and Jason were looking for at least 200,000 Euros (or $259,000 dollars). “What a cheapskate! No wonder I was held hostage so long,” I thought.

So, that’s my tale of being kidnapped.

But since then I seem to have become addicted to being tied up. I can’t get enough of it now, and my girlfriend is getting scared. So, I started looking for Bud and Jason again; checking gay leather bars in Berlin and Amsterdam, but never found them. But I have met some very interesting characters ever since. And I know now that I really like the whole idea of being kidnapped and held against my will, even without the MDMA.

I still have those jeans, boots and turtleneck, and wear them a lot in my cruising, along with a black leather jacket and knitted cap and new BMW (my boss was good for something, after all). Next time you’re in Germany check me out!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby mikeybound » Sat May 25, 2013 7:37 pm

It's little details like that last bit that make your stories great. You have a fictional character cruising on this site! :D

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby xtc » Sun May 26, 2013 2:19 am

Thanks Jack. Another example of good, clear story-telling on this site.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby tiednw » Sun May 26, 2013 1:16 pm

Great chapter!

Would be nice if he finds them again!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby Jack Roper » Tue May 28, 2013 3:15 pm

One thing about kidnappers--they find you!

Re: The Kidnapped Banker-(MM/m) PG17

Postby tiednw » Tue May 28, 2013 4:40 pm

Jack Roper wrote:One thing about kidnappers--they find you!


Nevertheless, I hope they'll meet again. :tied: