Captive Campers – the Remake

Postby sarobah » Fri Sep 05, 2008 4:31 pm

This is a rewrite of my earlier story, Tent Ropes and Captive Campers, which I decided could do with a revamp. Most has been substantially revised, although some parts, in particular the prologue, are similar to the original, albeit more polished (hopefully).
Anyway, here it is. As in the original, the people are real and just about everything in the story is true, having happened at one time or another, just not in a single, five-day adventure.


Prologue

Just as we crested the ridge, the wayward sun at last broke through the clouds. After nine hours of slogging through the dank gloom of the forest, hemmed in by oppressive stillness, clammy and weary, we paused for just a moment to bask in the soothing warmth and light. Beyond a ragged hedgerow lay a broad valley in the full bloom of spring. Along its floor, a silver ribbon meandered through a chequerboard of fields and a spiderweb tracery of roads and bush tracks. The bluffs and spurs which flanked the river were lightly sprinkled with farmsteads. We started downwards.

I was at the rear of the line, and by the time I reached the summit, the vanguard of our party had already begun the descent. I stopped to draw a breath and take in the panorama, before a brusque tug on my halter urged me forward. Rivulets of sweat seeped into my eyes; a maddening itch tormented my nose; mosquitoes besieged my unprotected flesh, but with my hands immobilized, I was defenceless. My throat was parched, yet the wad of cloth clenched between my teeth was sodden. Errant tree branches and talons of undergrowth clawed at my arms and legs. The weight of my backpack bore down on my shoulders and grew heavier with each laboured step.

The file bunched up at a fallen red cedar which barred our way. Once a giant of the forest, it was now a sad, rotting hulk. The trunk was waist high where it straddled the walking track. Two of the boys were assisting Rachel to clamber across. She slipped and pitched sideways, skidding on her backside along the trunk before sliding off and disappearing on the far side. My brother, who had been farther up the trail, came back and helped her to her feet. She was caked in mud, a thick, black, gelatinous goo. Alex obligingly dabbed the muck from around her eyes, nose and mouth. He flicked away the leaves and sticks that had pasted to her bare skin. He readjusted her gag, which had been displaced by her fall.

I did not see Rachel’s expression as she steadied herself, mustered what vestige remained of her dignity, and set off down the pathway. Alex scrambled after her, almost losing his own footing on the slimy ground. He seized the leash that trailed behind her and pulled the girl back into her proper place in the line.

I blinked away a bead of perspiration as I studied the obstacle before me. It appeared impassable; but at least I could learn from Rachel’s misfortune. Matt took hold of my arm and tried to guide me towards where the trunk bifurcated, but I angrily shook free of his grip. I muffled a warning through my gag, and he backed away. So without his aid, I carefully slung one leg over the barrier. With my wrists bound and secured at my waist, I could not use my arms to balance my body, but I could place my hands on the trunk directly in front to steady myself as I swung my other leg over. My boyfriend stood behind me, ready to catch if I tumbled backwards, but I was extra-cautious. Even so, as I slid down to land squarely on my feet, the coarse bark peeled skin from the backs of my thighs. It stung, but I did not react. I would not allow him the satisfaction.

The rest of our passage to the foot of the mountain was incident-free, though no less arduous. By the time we reached level ground, I was panting and sweating. My leg muscles burned and my shoulders ached. Matt padded my brow and cheeks with his sleeve, and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. He caressed my neck and refitted the loop of rope that encircled my throat, where it had begun to chafe. He massaged my sore shoulders; but he did not relieve me of the weight of my overloaded backpack; and once we were ready to move on, without a word he yanked hard on my leash. I followed, unresisting.

Day One

I have never understood people’s infatuation with the camping trip. To me, it’s about sand in your shoes, bugs in your hair, charcoal in your food, spiders in your bed and snakes in the toilet. Whereas my idea of roughing it is no room service. Still, there’s something about a rustling tent, a crackling fire and the smell of carbonized meat products that turns folks misty-eyed. So when my friends organized our very own hiking and camping expedition, I really had no choice but to go along.

The instigator was Rachel, my otherwise best friend. She undermined my resistance by suborning my boyfriend. He recruited his buddy Ricardo. I took revenge by inviting my brother Alex to join us. Rick brought along his girlfriend Beth. Rachel, who was then between loves of her life, looked askance at us two couples, and fearing a pair-up with my brother, issued a summons to classmates Hamish and Osman (alias Oz-Man, aka Oz). And so we were eight.

A five-day expedition was planned, into the national park about an hour’s journey from home. Beth and Matt drove us there. We aimed at setting up our base camp after the first, full day’s trek. On the second day, we would hike for about six hours into the mountains, to a secluded spot that Rachel assured us was a slice of paradise (without explaining specifically what constitutes a slice of paradise). On day three, we would have to cross a series of precipitous ridges and gorges, to make camp on a river terrace which Rachel claimed as another – you guessed it – slice of paradise. After that, following a day of rest and recuperation, and no doubt having had our fill of paradisiacs, on the final day we would skirt the high country and return to our base, via a circuitous route that was nevertheless essentially flat.

Day one went as planned. We left the cars parked in a secure off-road spot and set out into the wilderness. We reached our objective about an hour before sunset and managed to get our tents up and a fire started just as the darkness closed in. Even I had to concede the romantic ambiance as we gazed at the dance of the flames, and cooked sausages and potatoes in the coals, while flamboyant clouds of glowing embers rose in the night air to mingle with the stars.

We’d brought with us two tents. The couples – Beth and Rick, Matt and I – took one, while the other boys and Rachel had the other. Rachel had no problem with sharing with three guys. In fact, she seemed to take a perverse delight in breaking up the boys’ club, laying down a harsh code of rules: “No farting, no burping, no dirty jokes, no self-service... and stay in your own bed!”

Meanwhile, the couples shared sleeping bags. We’d only brought six – purely a weight-saving measure of course. Anyway, that first night we were too tired for anything but slumber. As I snuggled up to Matt, I thought how well the day had gone. Maybe the trip was not such a bad idea after all. My only grumble was that three more days of hiking could become a tad monotonous. It would be nice to have something to liven things up. And as the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for, because it just may come true.

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 “erection”, 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?”

“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.”

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...”

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?”

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.”

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?”

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 me”– 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.”

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?”

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.

Postby sarobah » Fri Sep 05, 2008 4:37 pm

Day Four

It was too much to hope that our weather luck would hold out for a fourth day. At around dawn – or what should have been dawn – I was awoken by the roar of heavy rainfall on the roof of the tent. Two hours later, when Matt finally grumbled his way out of the sleeping bag, it was still coming down in torrents. It was a good thing that our tents had sealed-seam floors.

Rachel was awake, watching Matt as he ducked under the entrance flap and made a dash for the other tent. “Well, at least we won’t have to get up and cook breakfast,” she said.

Next to Rachel, Beth was still in her sleeping bag, her eyes closed. Rick was already gone. After a few minutes, however, they both returned, half-drenched.

“We’ve discussed the options...” Matt began.

“Wait on,” Rachel interrupted, “what do you mean by we?” She thought of this expedition as her baby.

Matt just ignored her and spoke louder when she tried to interject again. “The rain’s setting in and we’re not going anywhere.”

We had planned this as our day of rest, but there was no way we could have moved on in any case. The return hike included several creek crossings and some ground that would be treacherous in the wet. So we were stuck here for at least one day. I had the unpleasant thought that it might be several.

Matt laid out this information as a fait accompli and Rachel looked at him resentfully. It didn’t really matter that she had been left out of the discussion, since there wasn’t really any choice to be made. So she just pouted and crawled all the way inside her sleeping bag. Then I heard a strange shuffling outside the tent, and Matt and Rick got up and left again. What on earth were they doing?

It became obvious when a dark shadow appeared over the entrance of our tent; and I have to admit that I was impressed. The guys had moved the other tent – a light-frame structure that you can lift and shift, provided you’re careful – across to ours so that the two entrances merged to form a single, double-sized unit. If we had to spend the entire day inside, this was the best way to go. It was still cramped and a bit stuffy, as a cold breakfast was prepared and eaten, but it could have been worse. After that, the guys settled down in one half to play cards.

Of course, I am leaving out the most exciting part. Rachel, Beth and I remained in our sleeping bags. We were still naked. However, one of us was needed to make the breakfast – we had apparently now graduated from captives to slavegirls – and Beth, not surprisingly, received the assignment.

“No way like this,” she asserted; and when she was handed her bikini, still sodden, she snorted with disdain. Rick found her a t-shirt and pair of knickers.

“That’s it?”

“Take it or leave it.”

She took it.

As for Rachel and myself, the party was just getting started. It was my brother who took charge. He was by far the youngest of us, but was showing admirable leadership qualities – and I even felt a big sisterly if maybe perverse pride in his initiative, inventiveness and precocious aptitude for bondage games.

He told Rachel: “Get in with Sarah.”

She gave him a blank stare and he just pointed testily, first at her, then at me cowering inside my sleeping bag.

“Okay... but you all have to turn away.”

“Ten seconds,” he said; and everyone else twisted around as, with a shriek, Rachel wriggled out of her bag and thrust herself into mine. She was halfway in when the time was up, but all our audience got was a short glimpse of her bare backside.

“Cuddle up, ladies,” we were instructed. Rachel seemed just a little too keen to obey as she drew in close until our bodies touched. We were lying on our sides facing each other, so she wrapped her free arm around my waist. I had a suspicion of what was coming, but there was nothing we could do as Matt joined Alex to grab each side of the sleeping bag and shove us closer together. Matt reached under and pushed a length of rope through to Alex, who passed it over us back to Matt. After two more loops, they hauled with all their strength. Squealing and squirming, we were squeezed and squashed and squished into a tight mutual embrace. Matt zipped the bag all the way to stop us fighting back, while Alex bound our feet with another rope. We must have looked like a trussed up, two-headed caterpillar, and Beth and the boys had a good laugh at our expense.

Inside our cocoon, however, it was a different matter. Our naked bodies intertwined, arms and legs entangled, curves and crevices interlocked. We were literally cheek-to-cheek. Rachel’s hair, long, dark and silky, fluffed in my face, tickling my nose. That’s how we spent the next several hours, and Rachel and I got to know each other very well; because when you’re pressed together, unable to breathe or flex the tiniest muscle without sending a sensuous ripple into your partner, every wiggle and every wriggle becomes an erotic adventure.

By midday, the sun had burst through the scattering clouds. The guys went outside, to go fishing. And as soon as they had gone, I pleaded with Beth to set us free. No way, was her answer – she was under strict orders. Nevertheless, she stayed in the tent and kept us company. We occupied ourselves with gossipy girl-talk, and it was certainly the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had – not in terms of the subject matter but in the way we were. A couple of times I had to ask Beth to scratch an itchy nose; but though I was thirsty, I didn’t dare request anything to drink. This was not the situation to be in with a full bladder.

Sometime in the early afternoon, the buys returned – fishless, of course (but I was going to be the one to cast aspersions upon their prowess with a rod). There was a final humiliation in store for us when they picked us up and carried us out of the tent and dumped us on the wet grass. Actually, they dumped us three times. Rachel was for some reason writhing and struggling. What she was trying to achieve I have no idea, but the boys lost their grip and dropped us – fortunately only from about knee height.

They deposited us next to the camp kitchen (subtle message there, boys!). Alex assigned himself the honour of taking off the ropes, and Matt said: “That’s it; out you get.”

Rachel and I just looked up at him.

“Well, it was worth a shot,” he proclaimed, as he threw our clothes onto the ground beside us. I reached out and retrieved them. Even so, dressing inside the sleeping bag was no easy feat. We had to choreograph our actions to prevent further awkwardness. When we were finished, Rachel said to me, “Well, thank you for a most interesting experience.”

“My pleasure,” I said. “I hope you still respect me in the morning.”

We emerged from our cocoon, stretching and flexing cramped and aching muscles, smoothing out kinks and creases. The guys nodded with approval, but Beth was less sympathetic.

“I’m not cooking all by myself,” she muttered.

There would be no more tie-up games that day. Any thoughts the boys entertained along those lines were quickly dispelled with deadly stares and threatening gestures. Indeed, as sunset approached it started raining again and we took refuge once more in the tents. The boys, a couple of times, gazed wistfully at the sleeping bags – Matt and Rick for different reasons from the others – but it turned into an almost normal night.

Day Five

We desperately hoped that our last day would dawn sunny and warm; and indeed it did. We had a long march ahead of us, over undulating ground, certainly easier than the terrain we had negotiated so far; but we would have to maintain a solid pace if we were to arrive back at our original start line before sunset.

With breakfast done, we made haste to be on the road. As Rachel, Beth and I got ready, the boys were disappointed to see that we weren’t in our bikinis; but after day three’s ordeal, that was very much out of the question. I opted for shorts and a singlet top. I was about to put on a long-sleeved shirt, but Matt (in his long-sleeved shirt) vetoed that. Well, if I was going to be his little captive camper, I should be an obedient one.

Then came the moment of truth. Matt held up the rope and I put out my hands. Rachel giggled nervously and did likewise. Everyone looked to Beth. After considering each of us in turn, she shrugged her shoulders in silent assent. As Rick began winding the cord around his girlfriend’s wrists, however, she declared that she wouldn’t wear a gag. The boys conferred, and Alex announced that only one of us would have to. Rachel and I glanced at each other. There had to be a catch. Rachel snarled like a caged beast as the wad was jammed into her mouth. Nevertheless, I was still worried about that catch.

Novelty being the spice of life, the guys found a different way to tether us today. Rachel’s bound wrists were tied to the back of my pack. Beth was secured to Rachel’s. I had a bad feeling that I was going to complete the circle and we would be forced to walk the entire way like that, the three of us engaged in a sort of continuous pirouette as we alternated between hobbling forwards, sideways and backwards. And had the boys been more imaginative, I’m sure they would have come up with that. But they didn’t, and I was not the one to give them ideas.

Instead, Matt tied another rope to my wrists and passed it between my legs, to attach it to a halter around Rachel’s neck. He drew it fiendishly tight, and I was glad I hadn’t worn my bikini briefs. And so we set off, Matt and Alex leading the column, us girls in the middle bound to each other, the other guys trailing behind. Rachel probably had the worst of it, and not just because of her gag. It was hard for her to see where she was going, and she was continually jostled and thrown off balance whenever either Beth behind or I in front took a misstep. Of course, we were all in this together. When any one of us faltered, we all felt the consequences. Before long, we were near exhaustion from the effort of concentration needed to keep our footing. My crotch-rope didn’t make it any easier. Its strategic placement added an extra layer of stimulation to the experience.

Naturally, being a bound captive is no fun if you cannot taunt and tease your captors. In that respect, Matt and Alex provided me with more than ample ammunition, as they intermittently got us lost, following the wrong trail. I called out the appropriate insults and gratuitous advice, knowing I was playing with the proverbial fire. I expected to be put back on the leash, but Matt had a better idea... well, maybe not better from my point of view. He turned and stomped up to us, but he bypassed me and released Rachel from her gag.

With the now familiar “Open wide, love,” he held up the ball of wool-sock, still wet from being in Rachel’s mouth. I gurgled a forlorn and futile protest (“Oh, ewww!”) as he pushed it into place. Well, I deserved it, I guess.

The sun was still quite low in the sky. We had been on the march for less than two hours. This was going to be another long and interesting day... and it would get more so. We emerged from the rolling hills onto a broad terrace that flanked the river. We followed a path that was well-trodden, with patches of gravel. This worried me, because it increased the chances of us running into some shocked farmer. However, the land about us was too steep and pebbly for any sort of intensive farming, so it was unlikely. Still, I must confess that my fear of a surprise encounter was mainly that that game might have to end. As tough as it was, it was also – as usual – exhilarating.

Sometime around noon, we reached an overgrown, disused road which ran along a derelict fence-line. That meant we could step up the tempo; except that one of the lads came up with an idea to regenerate interest in the hike. Blindfolds.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” I exclaimed. He wasn’t, and they weren’t. Beth was not exempt from this one; so for the next couple of hours the three of us had to stagger sightless along the track, feeling with our feet for bumps in the surface, listening for clues and warnings. Matt thoughtfully put me on a leash to provide some guidance; while Rachel had to take her cue from me, and Beth from Rachel. That actually worked, to an extent, because in the preceding hours we had picked up each other’s rhythm, and whenever one of us tripped or stumbled, the others held her up. Only once did we all go down. As Matt helped us back to our feet, he took out my gag and asked if I was okay.

“Fine,” I told him. “How about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, he said. (I wasn’t really worried about him.) “You’re doing great.”

He replaced the gag and adjusted my crotch-rope. He smiled at my flinch.

The blindfolds presented an interesting challenge; but eventually it was decided that they were slowing us down, and they came off. At this time, we had paused for rest and sustenance, Rachel announced that she needed to make a pit stop. The guys looked at her, perplexed.

“Well, I would say that I need to use the bathroom, but I don’t think we’ll find one out here.”

Matt pointed to a line of bushes.

“Forgetting something?” Rachel asked, nodding towards her bound wrists; but he shook his head.

Well, this was going to be interesting. It wasn’t just that, with the three of us tied together, it would be a bonding experience in the most intimate sense. Guys seem to forget, or disregard, that half the population cannot just point and shoot. So once we were safely out of sight, I had the singular pleasure of taking down and pulling up pants. With Rachel tied to my backpack, this required some gymnastic-style flexibility; and with my hands bound at my waist, I had to get up close and personal... but enough of that. When we emerged from our bushes, one the boys asked: “Any problems?” We just glared.

And so, on we went. We made good time, and the sun was still above the western horizon when we saw, in the distance, a thrilling sight, the roofs of two vehicles nestled amongst the trees. Just in case the campsite was occupied, Rachel, Beth and I were untied. It was nice to have the gag out... and as for my crotch-rope – well, there were pluses and minuses.

Once we’d stowed our gear, Hamish, Oz and I travelled in Beth’s car. We talked about the experiences of the last few days, and it was interesting to hear the viewpoints of three tie-up novices. It didn’t surprise me that Beth was in no hurry for a reprise; but at the same time she wasn’t so negative either. However, the interesting thing is that, driving us home, Beth reverted to the take-charge, no-nonsense type she was before – so different from the girl who let go for a while to enjoy that unique sense of being both strong and helpless at the same time. Of course, I don’t really understand the psychology. I just like being tied up.

Captive Campers-the remake

Postby mistofoleese » Sat Sep 06, 2008 5:22 pm

All I have to say is WHOA that's one HELL of a re-write
Mist

Postby Boundgal08 » Sun Sep 07, 2008 12:19 pm

That was a real good story, thanks for sharing :D
BOUNDGIRL!
Probably the kinkiest woman you will ever meet!
I am a switch, I like to put a man in ropes and also have a man put me in ropes!
I am the 'Queen of bondage'

Postby Zaphod » Sun Sep 07, 2008 1:04 pm

That was quite a story! If you have any others that you'd like to share with us, be they fictional or real, I'd love to read them. You really are a very good writer, and I can't wait to see what else you might have.

Thanks for posting!

Postby sarobah » Sun Sep 07, 2008 6:13 pm

Thank you for the compliments. I am working on a fictionalized version of another adventure.


If anyone’s interested...
One reader (fan?) PMed me expressing interest (scepticism?) in my claim that everything in this story is essentially true. In the interests of full disclosure, I have already addressed this in my original version, but here’s the full story:
Day one – I really do hate camping as much as I described – I love hiking so long as I can return to a nice, warm, comfy hotel (hopefully with room service).
Day two – The incident with the icy-cold pond, bikinis and Hamish getting tied happened on a camping trip; but the revenge didn’t come straight away. That night, Rachel and I were tied up in our sleeping bags – an episode I moved to day four in this latest version.
The tie-up game is a synthesis of several such incidents, one of which did involve Rachel and Beth. The washing episode happened but it wasn’t a camping trip and the girls were different (except me of course).
Day three – I was once foolish enough to hike for a full day in my bikini through a rainforest, and despite a thick coating of insect repellent I was eaten alive. Not a very smart thing to do. We (there were two of us) weren’t bound and gagged though. On a dare, I agreed to carry the guys’ backpacks as well as my own – they conned me into it. It was excruciating, and I cursed all the way, just for the satisfaction of saying I could do it. I am still a sucker for a dare.
The bound while hiking escapade is also fusion of several adventures. For example, during one of the “commando” games I have described in another story: for some reason (probably because I was talking too much), my teammates decided to tie me up and gag me, and naturally I didn’t protest. My bound wrists were attached to the backpack of one of the guys. They thought they were punishing me, but of course I loved it!
The naked around the campfire scene is also real, and – if I remember correctly – happened on the same camping trip as the one described on day two.
Day four – The sleeping bag episode is a fantasized version of the one mentioned above.
Day five –Trekking along bush tracks blindfolded is something I’m an old hand at. Heck, I can do it with one hand – err, two hands – tied behind my back.
As for the used-gag scene... well to repeat what I’ve said before: “Yes, true. For many folks there is an automatic ewww! reflex, but really, is it any worse than being gagged with your own panties or a pair of dirty socks – and we’ve all been there... haven’t we?”
To repeat (ad nauseum?) camping is not my scene, but if I can spice it up with some tie-up games, it becomes almost bearable.

~ sarah
Words, like Nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.

Re: Captive Campers – the Remake

Postby Qarl » Mon Mar 22, 2010 11:44 pm

Sarah,

Your writing is amazing, and your senses of humor and adventure are delightful. I absolutely LOVE that you shared this story, and I'm in awe that you went through and revamped it to put it all together here!

THANKS!

-Qarl

Re: Captive Campers – the Remake

Postby Boundgal08 » Tue Mar 23, 2010 10:46 am

Always good to read!
Thanks for sharing!

Cheers,
BG
BOUNDGIRL!
Probably the kinkiest woman you will ever meet!
I am a switch, I like to put a man in ropes and also have a man put me in ropes!
I am the 'Queen of bondage'