Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M/M

Postby Jason Toddman » Mon Aug 23, 2010 2:37 pm

EPISODE 1 – HELLO NEIGHBOR



It was my first day of high school, and I was going to attend a completely different school than the one I’d thought I’d be going to just a couple of weeks before. I was nervous, but a lot less so than I’d have been under the original plan: attending the school in my old home town. There, I had no friends and only a few casual acquaintances, but in my new city I’d made some close friends and classes hadn’t even started yet. My friends weren’t all in the same grade that I was, but the fact that they were there and that I’d be able to see them and talk with them every day (at lunch and possibly at other times) was comforting. High school had changed from an overwhelming prospect into something that I could almost look forward to.

Walter and Randy, the cousins I was living with at the time, both had their driver’s licenses. Randy was only 15, but that was old enough for a license at the time. Walter already had his own car, so he’d be able to drive Randy and me to school. But as my cousins were on the soccer team and would be staying after classes fairly often to practice, I’d need to ride the bus home on a regular basis. So we all agreed that I should take the bus to school the first day so that the driver would be aware that I existed and know that I was on his route. I’d been enrolled at the school at the last minute and it was possible he didn’t know about me yet. He’d have met Walter and Randy, though, so they offered to ride on the bus with me so that they could introduce me to the driver and to some of the other students.

As the bus had come from the direction of town, where everybody I’d met so far lived, I saw some familiar faces immediately. Al, Ron, and David were on the bus and they all said hello. Rusty and Gary weren’t there; they had their own vehicles and were driving to school. Julia and Melanie also drove to school most of the time, but on this first day they were on the bus. Tom, George, Morgan, and my other younger friends were in junior high or grade school, so they were missing; the lower grades began (and ended) an hour later and so the younger kids would ride the school buses at different times than I would. However, enough of my friends were aboard to make me feel at ease despite the fact that I was meeting other kids my age on the bus for the very first time.

The high school was six miles further down the road from where I lived with my aunt and cousins, and most of this distance was along roads I’d never been down before. No one that I knew lived in this direction, so I’d had no reason to travel this way until now. So whenever the bus stopped to pick up new passengers, Walter or one of the others would call out to them and introduce me. Apparently my cousins knew everybody along the way because there were no exceptions to the introductions; I met every last person who boarded the bus! Normally I’d have been too shy to introduce myself to anybody, but my cousins and friends made it so easy for me that it was as if I already knew everybody there.

About a mile from my aunt’s house we passed a large farmhouse. I noticed that a car was pulling out of the driveway with a teenage driver aboard and another one in the passenger seat. This was apparently somebody who’d opted to drive himself and a sibling or friend to school rather than ride the bus. I quickly forgot about this scene, but I was to become quite familiar with this house and the driver and passenger of the car before very long.

The first few days of school were a whirlwind of new faces and experiences. I wrote extensively in my diary but that’s all that I have to go on now; it’s pretty much a blur in my memory. But thanks to my friends, things went smoothly, considering that I was not only a freshman but a relative stranger to the area. I even started to make new friends. They weren't like my existing friends, of course; just typical acquaintances of the type that any boy my age might make. Again, my cousins and other friends made it easier for me. Without them, I’m sure that my natural shyness would’ve condemned me to a lonely four years in high school.

But the most interesting first encounter I’d have with one of my classmates didn’t happen at school at all, but somewhere else on the weekend that followed the first week of classes

It was early on a beautiful, hot, and sunny Saturday morning. Walter, Randy, and I were going to have the house to ourselves for the weekend while Aunt Yvette visited my mother to keep her company at my old house (which my mother was in the process of putting up for sale). My older brother was still there, but he’d soon be inducted into the Navy, leaving my mother to live alone in the house until she was able to buy a new one in Aunt Yvette’s town and I moved in with her there. At any rate, with Aunt Yvette away, the three Tuggers were going to play. In fact, Walter and Randy were already wrapping me up in duct tape (with me dressed only in my boxer shorts) before Aunt Yvette’s car was completely out of the driveway.

I figured that we’d stay indoors this time, since their usual habit if outdoors was on the agenda was to cuff my hands behind my back, hobble me so that I could walk but not run, and lead me on a leash along the path out back to a quiet spot in the woods (or to a rendezvous spot near David’s house where we might meet some of the others). But this time they surprised me.

After they’d half-mummified me with duct tape so that I couldn’t move a muscle, they funnel-gagged me so that I couldn’t talk either. This should have made me suspicious. They generally used a funnel gag (allowing me to breathe through my mouth as well as my nose) only when they planned to leave me tied up alone for a significant length of time. Of course, even if I’d suspected something, it was too late to do anything about it. They picked me up bodily and carried me out to the backyard. Then Walter went to the shed nearby to fetch a contraption I’d never seen before, and suddenly I knew that I was in for a new and interesting experience.

The contraption was another David the Wonder Boy original invention. This new toy was similar to the “bondage rack" that Gary’s younger brother and his friends had trapped me in the previous month. It was built on a sturdier frame, however, and didn’t have quite as many straps as the previous model. It was also about eighteen inches wider, allowing sufficient room for the legs of secondary occupants as they sat on top of the primary occupant (with padding for their knees if they were kneeling). There were some additional enhancements that made this device stand out. It was built on top of a framework with wheels like those of a kid’s red wagon, and it had two handles by which it could be pulled along by one or two people just like a normal kid’s wagon would be. “My First Bondage Wagon”, patent pending!

As I was laid into the thing, I noticed that my cousins had conveniently left portions of my limbs uncovered with duct tape at exactly the right places to use most of the straps to secure me to the wagon. Not too surprisingly, it turned out that this wasn’t a coincidence. Within moments, I was once again completely helpless inside one of David’s inventions - and awaiting the pleasure of my captors (and presumably eventual tormentors). Even if I hadn’t been duct-taped, the wagon alone would have been enough to hold me prisoner; the combination of tape and wagon was definitely overkill. I literally could not move a muscle – except to blink!

“We’re taking you for a ride, Jase,” Walter said to me as he and Randy walked to the front of the “wagon” and grabbed the pull handles. “Hold on!”

Hold on? I couldn’t get out – or even fall out – if I wanted to!

The sledge on wheels was a somewhat bumpy but still pleasant ride as my cousins pulled it down the familiar trail into the woods. I couldn’t turn my head but could only gaze skyward as the trees (already starting to show the first signs of autumn colors) passed by. I knew the route, however, and I figured we were going to David’s house to show him his invention in action.

But we went only a few hundred yards before my cousins abruptly pulled the wagon off the trail, over a small grassy hill, and on into a stand of trees. Now we were completely out of sight and earshot of anybody else. We might as well have been out in the remote wilderness as far as my having any hope of rescue or interference from passers-by was concerned. I wasn’t worried, though; I trusted my captors implicitly and knew that whatever fun they had with me, they’d never really harm me.

And, in fact, all they did was remove their shirts and sit down on top of my chest and belly like they’d done dozens of times before and teased and taunted me for about an hour. The worst thing they did that whole time was to gently slap my face (not even hard enough to sting) and tickle me in the relatively few spots left uncovered by duct tape or straps. Fortunately for me, my most ticklish spots were inaccessible to them under these conditions.

Then my cousins stood up and put on their shirts. “Time to go meet David,” said Walter.

“Yep,” replied Randy. “Shall we take Jase?”

Walter took a look at me and smiled a distinctly evil smile. “Naw! He’s been a real *drag* lately. Let’s just leave him here!”

I *mmphed* impatiently, not really believing that they were serious. However, my feeble noises, almost inaudible through the gag, became more insistent as Walter and Randy actually started to walk away back the way we’d come – leaving me bound and helpless right where I was! I figured they’d quit their prank at any moment and come back for me. But they kept on walking, and I could hear them talking loudly even when they were out of sight beyond the trees and the little hill we’d climbed over to get here. And from the fading sounds of their conversation, they were *still* walking away – and they kept doing so until they were completely out of earshot.

They really *were* leaving me here all alone!

Even then I was sure that this was only a prank, and that they’d sneak back over to surprise me and either release me or drag me along in the wagon with them. But as more time passed and nothing happened, I began to realize that I really was going to remain stuck here for a while.

I thought that my cousins might be watching me secretly from a distance and laughing at my plight, but I saw no evidence that this was the case. Due to where they’d placed me, they wouldn’t be able to see me from the ground from any great distance; they’d have to climb a nearby tree to see me at all. And I knew they couldn’t possibly climb a tree close enough to spy on me without my hearing them. My hearing was exceptional, and though they’d made no attempt to plug my ears, I heard nothing at all but the normal sounds of a quiet forest.

Despite my trust in my cousins, I started to panic a little. What weird trick were they playing on me now?! They knew darned well it that was against the rules of our tie-up and torment club to leave “prisoners” unattended for more than an hour. Did they believe that they could fool me into thinking they’d *really* abandon me here like this, like they tried to fool Gordon during his initiation when they left him tied to a tree all night? They must know I wouldn’t be fooled by such a trick, so why do it?

But then again… where the Hell *were* they? I told myself that this was just a lame attempt on their part to scare me. The problem was, as time passed, it started to work. What would I do if something happened and they couldn’t come back to get me? What if David and his brothers tied them up and gagged them so that they couldn’t tell them about my situation? What if…

Snap!

What was *that*?

Crackle!

Somebody was coming! Oh Thank God! Walter and Randy had finally gotten tired of their game and were coming to get me. Grrr! When I got free, I’d…

A football flew out of nowhere and landed just a few feet from my head.

“Where it’d go?” a completely unfamiliar kid’s voice called out from somewhere nearby… in a completely different direction than the one Randy and Walter had gone!

“It went into the trees over there,” called a different, apparently younger kid’s voice from even closer in the same direction as the first one. “I’ll get it!”

Before I could have reacted even if I’d been capable of movement, a twelve-year-old Asian boy suddenly appeared from behind some bushes in the direction of my feet. The boy came to a dead stop right in front of me. He took one look at me, his eyes grew really big, and he turned around and he ran back the way he’d come before I could even *mmph* through my gag at him.

“Sho! Sho!” I heard the kid yell as he retreated. “Come here! Quick!”

“Where’s the football?” asked the other boy in a bored way.

“There’s some guy tied up in there!” said the younger boy.

“Are you serious?” replied the older boy scornfully.

“Come and see for yourself!” insisted the younger boy.

I could hear both of them coming back. Well, this was going to be embarrassing; but at least rescue was at hand.

Or so I thought!

Back came the first boy, and with him came another taller, slender boy who resembled the first one so much I knew that they had to be brothers. As he came closer, I realized that I’d seen him before in school. He was a classmate I hadn’t been introduced to yet; his name was Sho Ashida. He was about my age or a bit older, about 5’ 9”, and he weighed about 130 pounds. The younger boy was over a foot shorter; he probably weighed about 70 pounds tops.

Both boys were wearing long-sleeved hooded sweaters, gym shorts, tube socks, and sneakers. The younger boy also wore a baseball cap.

Sho looked at me and said something softly in a language that wasn’t familiar (it turned out to be Japanese). At the time, I figured it probably meant “WTF?!” The younger boy giggled at the remark, replied in the same language, and then giggled some more. The two of them just stood there after that and stared at me with wide grins on their faces. They looked around, apparently to see if anybody else was nearby, then they walked over to me and each got down on one knee right beside me.

“Hi!” Sho greeted me. “You’re Jason, aren’t you? I remember seeing you in school.”
And then he just stayed there, as though he expected me to answer him!

I gurgled through the gag to make it clear that no coherent answers to his query would be forthcoming while I had the funnel gag in my mouth.

“Oh, sorry,” said Sho apologetically and fumbled around with the gag – apparently looking for a way to remove it without hurting me. “I don’t know what to do with this, Jirou” he told his brother after a moment. “Go get Ichiro.”

The younger boy immediately jumped up and ran off, calling for Ichiro. Who the heck was Ichiro?! I wondered.

I soon found out. He’d evidently been close by, because the younger boy returned with him just a minute or two later. Ichiro closely resembled the other two boys, but he was as much older than Sho as Sho was older than Jirou. He looked to be about 16 years old and 6’ 1” in height, but he was almost as slender as Rusty. He wore clothing similar to the other two, but his shirt had short sleeves and his shorts were old blue-jeans cutoffs rather than gym shorts.

Jirou was talking rapidly to Ichiro in Japanese as the two came into sight, apparently explaining the situation. By the time Ichiro saw me, he seemed to be up to speed. He got down on one knee beside Sho (who hadn’t moved) and faced me. “So who the Hell left you here like this?” he asked me with a wide grin that I knew – through some strange instinct – meant trouble for me.

I *mmphed* again to indicate that my willingness to talk was exceeded only by my inability to do so.

“What do you think we should do, fellas?” Ichiro asked his two brothers casually. As if the answer wasn’t plainly obvious! Free me, for crying out loud!!!

“Let’s have some fun with him!” exclaimed Sho. Then, somewhat to my consternation, he promptly stood up, stepped over me, and sat down right on my chest! Then with scarcely a pause to gauge my reaction to this, he began slapping me repeatedly in the face! Not hard; the slaps didn’t even sting. The slaps were calculated to mortify me, and it worked. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. WTF was going on here?

A moment later the youngest boy, Jirou, sat astride my belly and started bouncing on it. The largest boy, Ichirou, sat on my thighs knees up. This part wasn’t too bad. Ichirou was much larger than the other two, but at least there his greater weight was not at all uncomfortable.

Although I normally enjoy this sort of treatment from my friends, these boys were strangers and I was starting to seriously freak out! I began to protest through my gag. In reply, Sho reached down and pinched my nostrils shut between his thumb and forefinger and began to squeeze while at the same time covering the funnel of the gag – completely blocking my air! I started to panic and thrash around – scared out of my mind by this point – in a futile attempt to get away.

But Sho let go of my nose and uncovered my mouth after only a few seconds. “Keep quiet, or next time I’ll do it longer,” he told me in what sounded at the time like a serious tone of voice. After that, I was as quiet as a mouse, even when he resumed slapping me steadily harder and more painfully and his younger brother continued to bounce on my gut.

The three Asian boys stayed with me the entire afternoon, sitting on top of me and playing various torment games with me. They didn’t really hurt me, so though I was completely at their mercy, my fright eventually started to subside. It became clear that their games were no harsher than those my own cousins played with me that first night the previous summer when they’d ambushed me as I slept. About the worst that could be said was that they were giving me no chance to have a drink or to relieve myself. But then, they’d had nothing to drink as well and they didn’t get up to relieve themselves during the same period.

But these boys were complete strangers to me, and they wouldn’t even ungag me to let me speak to them and get to know them. This added an element of danger to the situation, but since the mistreatment didn’t escalate, the element of danger eventually began to thrill me rather than scare me as time passed.

The sun was getting low in the sky (I’d been here almost the whole day?) and the three boys started to talk about going home. I began to feel relieved. Surely they’d let me go free now. They wouldn’t simply walk off and leave me like this, would they?

“What’ll we do with him?” asked Jirou as they all stood up and finally got off me.

“Let’s take him home and keep him in the barn,” suggested Ichiro. “It’d be fun to have a prisoner for a while, wouldn’t it?”

The other two boys looked at one another. “Yeah, it would,” agreed Sho with a laugh. Jirou seemed somewhat uncertain, but his two older brothers eventually managed to convince him that it would be fun for them to have someone else around to tease instead of him. The youngest brother seemed a lot more enthusiastic about the idea after that! Apparently he got picked on by his older brothers a lot and was happy to have a substitute for once.

And so without further ado, Sho and Ichiro each grabbed a handle on the wagon and started to take me away with them!! And Jirou, rather than walk, climbed back on to my belly to share the ride! I protested through my gag at all of this, to no avail.

They took me through the woods in the direction from which they’d come, and we had gone only a few dozen feet when we came upon another trail I’d never known existed.

The new trail was just as wide as the one I was familiar with, but it apparently didn’t connect to the familiar trail anywhere. It ran in the opposite direction from the familiar trail, away from the pond and the houses of various friends beyond and towards the region closer to the school. Of course we went nowhere near that far. After traveling about a mile, we ended up at a well-kept back yard. The end of the trail was blocked by a large barn, which completely blocked my view of the house beyond.

The boys led me to the back of the barn, which had a door closed with a padlock facing us. Ichiro pulled out a key and unlocked the door, revealing a small room that by no means occupied the entire barn; and in fact the only way to get to the rest of the barn was to go around the front. The space was about the size of a living room but was completely empty. The walls looked very solid. The three boys pulled me and the wagon inside the room.

“Welcome to your new home,” Ichiro said to me with a smile. Then the three boys walked out, closed the door, padlocked it shut, and left me in there!

Some daylight filtered in through the cracks in the walls. At least I could still see and get some fresh air. Even so, I was starting to freak out again. I was a prisoner of three boys I didn’t know at all, and presumably nobody else knew where I was. My cousins would have no idea where to look for me once they finally got off of their asses and came back to get me! Maybe they were already looking for me. They’d panic when they saw that I was gone and wasn’t at home!

What was I going to do?

There was nothing I *could* do. Randy and Walter had tied me quite well, and my new captors hadn’t loosened my bonds. I was trapped.

It was starting to get dark when I heard the door unlocked. Sho walked in with a bottle of soda in one hand and a plate of Chicken Chow Mein in the other. He sat down on my chest immediately and without ceremony. “I’ll take off your gag and feed you,” he said. “But if you say one word… anything at all… I’ll put the gag back on and let you go without food. And if you call out hoping to get attention, I’ll beat you up. No one else is home now anyway but my brothers, so calling for help will only get you hurt. Do you understand?”

I nodded my head; a little scared again now, and hungry and thirsty as well.

So Sho took the gag off and fed me the same way I’d been fed before while tied up; namely, he sat on my chest and held food to my mouth. I didn’t say a word until I was almost finished. Then, deciding I had little food left to lose, I started to plead with him to let me go. Sho promptly slapped my face, only once but rather hard. Not hard enough for it to really hurt but hard enough to discourage me from talking further. He tied the gag back on me immediately, so I couldn’t have spoken again anyway.

“I’ll let you have a little rest for now,” Sho told me as he got up to leave. “But Ichiro and I are going to come back later tonight after Jirou and our folks are asleep, and we’re going to keep you company for a while. And then you can thank us for the hospitality.” He was fondling his crotch when he said this, leaving no doubt in my mind what he meant! “And if you don’t say thank you nicely, we’ll find some *other* way to get our thanks!” This time he patted his behind loudly. I knew that he wasn’t referring to spanking; he was definitely talking about breaking and entry!

After that, Sho closed the door and locked me in again. Like that was necessary! He could have left it wide open for all the difference it would have made physically. But somehow the locked door made a psychological difference – accentuating a feeling of helplessness that was already close to total as it was.

As I began wondering how long I’d be trapped here, the door was opened against and Sho and his older brother strode in. “Sho tells me you want us to let you go. Is that right?” asked Ichiro.

I nodded my head in the affirmative slowly, suspecting a trick.

“Okay,” said Ichiro. With that, the two boys crouched down, grabbed the two corners of my bondage bed adjacent to my head, and heaved up. With alarming speed I found myself being flipped so that I was vertical rather than horizontal, and thought I was going to get flipped forward right onto my face. But my captors caught me before I went more than a few degrees past the vertical and eased me backward again. There was some kind of kickstand thing beneath the wagon I didn’t know about, because then the boys let the frame lean back at a slight angle again and it stayed put all by itself.

Instead of releasing me, Sho produced an empty jar – and Ichiro pulled down my boxers! Sho held the jar just beneath my groin.

“You wanted to go! So *go!* he told me impatiently.

I was never sure if this is a genuine miscommunication on their part or their idea of a joke. But as I *did* have to "go" desperately by this time, I decided to take advantage of this small sliver of mercy they were offering me while I could. And so I went – freely. The older boy helped me aim, and this was rather embarrassing - but the feeling of relief outweighed any mortification I might have felt even if I hadn’t experienced this sort of thing before.

Once I was finished, Ichiro pulled my boxers back up rather than humiliate me further by leaving them down. One of them then kicked out the prop that held me up and slowly, gently eased me and my bondage bed back down to the floor again. One of them grabbed the jar to dispose of it, and they promptly walked back out without saying a word to me and locked me in again. I went back to my gloomy thoughts about being held prisoner here for the rest of my life.

I lay there quietly; my feeling of increasing gloom matching my environment as dusk came, plunging me into total darkness. I didn’t bother trying to struggle to get out of my bonds; it would obviously be a waste of effort. All I could do was lay there like a lamb awaiting the slaughter.

It was as quiet as it was dark at first. Then I heard sounds of conversation from the house. Sho’s parents had apparently come home and the family was having a pleasant evening. Eventually all grew quiet again, and it was as though there was no one in the whole world but me.

After a long time, I heard my captors returning. This was well before they reached the door; they were whispering to each other and my hearing was good enough to pick it up. The door opened and I heard people enter. I couldn’t see anything; no one turned on a light and I couldn’t turn my head to see any figures that might have been outlined (however dimly) against the opened door. I felt someone sit down on my belly and then I heard Sho’s voice.

“I’m removing your gag now. One word and it’s the back door for you. Stay quiet and it’s only the front door. Understand?”

I managed to make an affirmative sounding noise, as I could neither nod nor shake my head. Unseen hands promptly removed my gag. The weight on my belly disappeared, and then – strangely – I heard Sho tiptoe away. Then I heard somebody tiptoe back. I felt a weight settle onto my chest. An unseen hand loosened the straps that kept my head from moving and then guided the back of my head upward. Then I felt the tip of a one-eyed visitor seeking entry into my mouth. With a quiet sigh, I opened the front door to let Willy in. I began to suck. Willy began to get pushy, and I felt a thick nest of pubic hairs brushing against my lips and nose and a ball sac against my chin.

A flash camera suddenly went off, and I heard the whir of a Polaroid camera as it quietly ejected a picture. In that brief dazzling flash, I saw the afterimage of the face of the person who was sitting on my chest.

It wasn’t Sho.

It was freaking Randy!!! And I saw Walter’s face right behind Randy’s, burned briefly into my retina as well!

I grunted in outrage and spat Willy out as fast as I could! And I yelled! “I know that’s you, Randy! What the Hell is going on?! You bastards set me up?! How could you do this to me, you rotten son of a …” This was as far as I got before Randy hand-gagged me in self-defense.

“Watch it, cuz! That’s your aunt you were about to insult you know!” Randy’s familiar voice told me from the darkness.
A light bulb suddenly turned on. I hadn’t seen the light bulb before; it was dangling from the ceiling by a little chain. I was dazzled for a moment, but Randy’s distinctive donkey laugh sounding in my ears removed any lingering doubts even before my vision cleared enough to enable me to see him sitting naked on my chest and laughing at me. Sho, Walter, and Ichiro were all there too and laughing their fool heads off!

Why this whole setup hadn’t made me suspicious long before this I have no idea. Maybe I’d been still in a daze from the unexpected kidnapping. But the fact remains that, up to this moment, I’d believed that the entire stunt had been what it had appeared to be; the Japanese brothers’ own spontaneous idea.

“Remember last week when we tied you up?” Randy calmly told me once I quit trying to bite his hand and yell at him some more. “Remember how you talked about how sad it was that Myron didn’t get his wish about his kidnapping? That you wondered what it would be like if *you* were kidnapped – only for real, with no control over who took you away or where or what they did to you? Do you remember?”

I mumbled a bit, somewhat incoherently even though Randy wasn’t hand-gagging me anymore. I *did* sort of vaguely recall saying some such thing.

“Well, we couldn’t give Myron *his* wish,” replied Randy with the righteous air of a wronged party. “But we granted *your* wish, because we’re such loving cousins! You should be thanking us for going to all this trouble just for you, cuz!”

He laid it on even thicker than that, but you get the general idea.

Walter and the others (still fully clothed, unlike Randy – who made no move to get dressed) then proceeded to sit on me as they explained how I’d been hoaxed. It seems Sho and Ichiro had played tie-up and sit-on games with Walter and Randy (though by chance not any of my other friends) for several months before summer vacation had started, but they’d never formally joined the gang.

The three brothers had been away visiting relatives in Japan for the entire summer, starting just before I’d come to live with my aunt and cousins. Realizing that I’d never had the opportunity to meet (or even hear about) the Asian brothers previously (no one else in the gang knew about their TUGs with Walter and Randy), my prank-loving cousins had gotten together with them secretly at school to arrange a weekend that I’d never forget!

Randy said he’d gotten the idea when he’d seen them headed to school in Ichiro’s car while he was riding on bus with me that first day. At the time his comment made no sense to me, as I’d forgotten the car completely.

The youngest brother, Jirou, hadn’t been in on the scheme initially. He’d simply followed the lead of his older brothers until they’d locked me in the barn. He wasn’t supposed to be along for this, but Sho and Ichiro had gotten stuck with him at the last minute and they’d brought him along because it had been too late to cancel the arrangement they’d made with Walter and Randy to “kidnap” me.

Jirou had found me by “accident” only because Sho – knowing I was there – had deliberately thrown the football to where Jirou would “discover” me. Jirou’s surprise had been the only reaction that was genuine. His reaction had worked to the benefit of the plan; it was so unaffected that it hadn’t occurred to me that the other two boys might be acting.

Jirou had played along with tormenting me until they’d taken me to the barn. Afterward, when the fun was over, he’d started to feel sorry for me and had wanted to let me go free. Then Sho and Ichiro had told him that they weren’t really going to keep me locked up in the barn for long. When Sho went out to feed me, Jirou was told that I was being set free… and that he mustn’t tell their parents about me or their parents would get angry with all three of them. He’d kept quiet and was now sound asleep; completely unaware of what was going on in the barn.

So I hadn’t really been abandoned by my cousins. Ichirou and Sho had watched Randy and Walter deliver me as planned. They’d “kidnapped" me at a prearranged time. Jirou had gotten involved unexpectedly; he’d chosen to stay with them instead of going with his parents to visit relatives for the day. Jirou’s two older brothers hadn’t been able to get rid of him because their parents had already left. They couldn’t leave him home alone, so he came along.

Of course, I was still a captive, though it no longer felt dangerous or frightening. Although I hadn’t really kidnapped by strangers, I was still essentially the prisoner – and slave – of the four older boys for the rest of the night. And I’d better obey their slightest command if I didn’t want to spend a lot more time locked up and alone inside the barn! Well, that was the threat anyway; they’d have let me go if I’d really insisted – but that wasn’t likely and my cousins, at least, knew it.

Besides, now that the circumstances had changed, I was more than happy to let Willy back in through the front door to visit. And all three of his friends as well! And my own Willy wasn’t lonely that night either; he went visiting too!

Over the next couple of years, I’d become quite familiar with that barn and spend a lot of time tied up and locked up inside it, but I’d rarely be alone there for any great length of time. I usually had plenty of pleasant company during my visits.

On this occasion, I was kept confined inside my duct-tape prison the entire night, though my captors were merciful enough to take me outside in the wagon, stand me up, and let me relieve my bladder (with some assistance needed, to my mortification).

Thank God I didn’t need to do Number Two, though they *might* have freed me to let me do it in peace. I’m willing to bet, however, that they’d simply have dragged me to the nearby (and generally unused) outhouse, pulled down my shorts (that part of me wasn’t covered by tape) and let me go at it and worry about the messy aftermath afterward.

The next morning I was finally set free and given a change of clothing Walter and Randy had thoughtfully brought with them. Then I was allowed to use the bathroom facilities at our new friends’ house when their parents left to go to church. This was the first time that I got a good look at the house and the car outside. I quickly recognized the car as the one I saw before. Now Randy’s comment about it, which had been puzzling me, finally made sense.

Jirou was home and relieved that I was all right and seemed to hold no grudges. Once I was cleaned up and fed, I was tied up again with fresh rolls of duct tape and carted by wagon back to my aunt’s house. The three Asian brothers came along for an all-day visit.

All five boys, my two cousins and the three brothers, pitched in to make my day interesting. At one point Walter and Randy went outdoors to play Hoops with Sho and Ichiro for an hour. They left Jirou to literally babysit me; I was laid on the couch and he sat on me while he watched TV. I wasn’t gagged this time, so I spent the hour getting to know him. I got to know his brothers later on the same way. But of course there was no repeat of the previous night’s fun – not with Jirou there. Later though, after Ichiro took Jirou home, my cousins lugged me upstairs, went back downstairs to watch TV, and let Sho have a solo encore with me in my room before he went home as well.

Being evil, my cousins left me taped up all day and all night, feeding me dinner in bed. As Aunt Yvette didn’t come home from visiting my mom until it was already past bedtime, they were able to get away with keeping me prisoner in my own room the rest of the weekend without her finding out; not that I really minded. They didn’t set me free until just before breakfast the next morning, when it was time to go to school.

Then I realized the one major drawback of having tie-up fun before a school day.

I hadn’t done my homework!


*****
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Last edited by Jason Toddman on Mon Sep 27, 2010 9:43 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby tiedup101 » Mon Aug 23, 2010 4:26 pm

YAY! More stories and pictures!!!! More!!!
Hey! I'm John! I love bondage! Send me a PM or send me a message at John_9734@yahoo.com! Open to anybody, but more into m/m bondage!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby sarumansauron » Tue Aug 24, 2010 10:54 am

A very good reverse-beginning! More! Thanks!
:tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :big: :big: :big: :big: :big:
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Aug 29, 2010 6:01 am

To Jack: Ummm.... like the last line says, I hadn’t done my homework! So I got into a little trouble with my teachers! Not a good way to begin my second week of school.
I managed to do some of it in school before I actually had to pass it in, but not all of it.
Here is the next episode. Nuc ought to like this one; BG an Cricks may have a field day with it too, but C'est la vie:

EPISODE 2: EXTREME MAKEOVER


As a younger boy, I’d never imagined that I’d ever end up being dressed up like a girl. Some people might have considered my favorite activities a bit unusual, but crossdressing was never one of them. Tie me up, sit on me, tickle me, torment me… no problem. But try to make me dress up like a girl in front of other people, and you’d better have me tied up securely or have something to blackmail me with; otherwise I’m going to make a run for it!

The first time it happened was during my initiation into the informal TUGs club that my cousins Walter and Randy and their cousin David on the other side had started. We didn’t actually call it a TUGs club, of course; we’d never heard the term. If we called it anything at all, we called it the Tied Up and Torture Club, or simply “the club”. Anyway, I’d endured sleepless nights, being caged, gagged, tortured, tied up, beaten with a belt, and sat on by the other boys in the club with little complaint – but I almost quit after enduring all of that when I was compelled to wear a dress while meeting David’s parents.

I managed to get through the ordeal because David’s parents turned out to be cool about the whole thing and made me feel at ease. All the same, I was glad to get out of that dress – even though I was immediately tied up and tormented for several hours straight afterward – and thankful I’d never have to wear girls’ clothing again!

I should have known better. That incident was to be only the first of several where I’d be forced to impersonate a member of the opposite sex. Thankfully, I didn’t know this at the time. But it did happen again about a year later, during the autumn semester of my freshman year in high school. This turn of affairs came about when, with my usual talent for such things, I managed to piss off the wrong person.

I was visiting George one Saturday afternoon in early October when his parents were away but his sister Julia and younger brother were home. I was tied to George’s bed and all three of them were sitting on top of me and gently torturing me as we talked about various things. Things were going well until Morgan started to talk about his having been invited to join the club. His initiation was scheduled for the following weekend.

I warned him about the part involving being made to wear a dress, even though I wasn’t really supposed to.

“Oh, George told me about that,” Morgan told me without any concern. “That’s okay. Julia’s made me wear dresses lots of times!”

Before I could respond to this, Julia herself overrode me. “Why is it that you make your initiates wear dresses, but you won’t let girls into your (expletive deleted) club?” she asked, rather crossly.

“Well, because no one wants to tie up and torture a girl,” I explained. “It’d feel like bullying. And being tied up and at the mercy of a girl is even worse! Only a sissy would let himself be tied up and at the… mercy of a… Uhhh…”

Uh oh. I had just remembered that I was at that very moment tied up and at the mercy of a girl. Granted, her brothers had done some of the tying, but Julia had helped – and without their presence and intervention she would indeed have me at her mercy. I’d been tied up and at her mercy twice before, and those had been rather unpleasant experiences. I really should have known better than to say something so stupid under these circumstances. I became consciously aware of this when Julia started to glare at me in a way that promised dire consequences. However, she didn’t say or do anything further to me immediately, and I soon forgot about the matter.

Until the following weekend.

Monday, George asked me to visit after school Friday for a sleepover. He and I were going to escort Morgan to his initiation at the treehouse behind David’s backyard on Saturday. It was a three-day weekend, so the initiation would be able to run its usual two days into Monday without anybody missing school or their parents investigating. I agreed, figuring I’d have plenty of time to catch up on homework afterward and looking forward to another night of being tied up and tormented by George and Morgan... and (having forgotten she was mad at me) Julia as well.

Friday night was spent in the usual manner – for me. I was tied up in bed, and George and Morgan sat on top of me in just their underwear after their parents (oblivious to our nocturnal activities) had gone to sleep. Morgan retired relatively early to catch up on sleep himself, as he’d be allowed none at all during his 48-hour initiation period. Julia didn’t stay with us that night; she remained in her room.

We had an early breakfast, because Morgan had to leave soon for his initiation and also because the trio’s parents were up early as well. They were planning to go on a trip that would keep them away all weekend. By eight in the morning, they were driving away and the four of us teenagers were alone in the house. Julia went back to her room, so I was with just George and Morgan for a while.

“Let’s have a quick tie-up before we go,” suggested George, out of the blue. He acted a bit nervous, but I paid no mind to this at the time.

“Now?” I asked, a bit incredulous. “We’re supposed to take Morgan to his…”

“Aw, there’s plenty of time for that. It doesn’t begin until noon, remember?” George reminded me. “Come on, just a quick one for Morgan before *he’s* tied up!”

“Well, okay,” I agreed. I was never terribly reluctant to be tied up. I walked toward George’s bed to lie down, since that was where I was usually tied up.

“No, wait!” George said quickly. “Not there. Sit in the chair!” This was a wooden kitchen chair of the old colonial type, with no cushions and a sturdy frame. “And… uhh… take your clothes off.”

This wasn’t an unusual request, so I removed everything but my briefs, sat down, and let the two brothers tie me to the chair. Considering that it was supposed to be a “quickie”, they sure took their time tying me securely to that thing. They didn’t stop with my wrists and ankles. They tied rope around every part of me that rope could be used to bind, and around every convenient part of the chair too. They tied me for fifteen minutes straight, and when they were done, I was an immovable part of the chair. Then, to finish it all off, they ball-gagged me. As soon as they finished securing the gag so that I couldn’t make a sound, Julia walked in carrying a large shopping bag.

Internal alarm bells went off, and I had a feeling of déjà vu!

“Okay, boys,” Julia told them. “You did your job. Go on and get to the initiation. Jason and I will be fine here by ourselves.”

I suddenly realized the dire predicament that I was in. I started to scream into my gag and thrash about in my bonds. I glared at George – first in an accusing manner (How could you trap me like this?! AGAIN?!!), and then with a wide-eyed appeal for help!

“I’m sorry, Jase! She made us do it!” George said in pure misery. Morgan stood there mutely and looked a bit ashamed of himself.

George didn’t go into detail about the type of coercion that Julia had used. We both knew that when it came right down to it, his sister was tougher than most boys and could usually get her way. George was strong and tough himself, but he was no match for his older sister either in a battle of wits or in a contest of wills. Julia had conned George into helping her trap me earlier in the summer, and I’d been her prisoner in the barn for an entire day. This time, she’d simply dug in her heels and strong-armed George somehow. Regardless of how she’d done it, I was doomed.

I made another plea for mercy through my gag, but to no avail. Without another word, George and Morgan walked out of the house. Through a window, I saw them climb onto their bicycles and ride away… abandoning me to my fate.

I always had trust issues with George and Morgan after this incident. At least whenever Julia was with us!

I looked up at my captor, wondering what dreadful tortures she’d planned for me. I knew that Julia was up to *something* diabolical. She wouldn’t have forced George and Morgan to shanghai me like this just to have the pleasure of my company! However, I still hadn’t remembered the conversation from last weekend that had made Julia angry to begin with. This might have given me a clue. I found out what was going on soon enough, regardless.

“Since you think that only a sissy would let himself be at the mercy of a girl, let’s see just how much of a sissy you can be,” Julia told me as she opened up the bag she’d carried in and revealed a stash of cosmetics. She grabbed something at random (eyeliner, I think) and held it up to my face so that I’d be sure to get the point.

When I understood what Julia had in mind, I thrashed about some more. Or at least I tried to. I was able to move so little, though, that I doubt that my desperate exertions were more than slightly noticeable. My face turned hot and probably red as I struggled, but that was about it.

That is, until Julia crouched down in front of me and gave me a quick, hard slap in the face; not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to get my attention and persuade me to give up my futile struggles. Then she grabbed me by the chin and forced me to face her like I was a small, naughty child. “Keep still, don’t move, let me do a good job of this, and it’ll be over with quickly and painlessly. Give me trouble, and I’ll show you just how hard I can *really* slap!”

I already had a pretty good idea of how hard *that* was, so I remained as still as a statue… as if I had very much mobility left anyway!

I do not remember exactly in what order she did things, as I doing my best to pretend that this was only a horrible dream and not really happening. But, dream or not, Julia gave me a thorough “beauty” treatment. She used eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, false eye-lashes, red nail-polish… the works.

The very first thing that Julia did was give me a crew-cut. This didn’t seem like an act of feminization until I realized that she intended to fit a platinum blonde wig on me and didn’t want my own hair getting in the way. I normally kept my hair short anyway (at least in the summertime) so I didn’t mind *this* part of the ordeal much. She actually gave me a haircut worthy of a professional barber. Unfortunately, she also gave me a makeover worthy of a professional beautician too. She’d evidently practiced the procedures involved many times – most likely on her two long-suffering brothers!

I’m not especially feminine-looking, though, no matter what beauty treatments are applied. By the time Julia was finished, I’m afraid that I looked more like Phyllis Diller than Eva Gabor!

But the worst was yet to come. Julia produced a set of pantyhose, a set of high-heel shoes my size, and a bright-red dress – and told me I had to put all of this on. She had ungagged me to put on the lipstick and had not replaced the gag, and I took advantage of this to protest. I said no way; even Julia wasn’t strong enough by herself to compel me to do such a thing. But all this got me was a threat to have the gag replaced! Naturally, I shut up!

George returned home at about this point, having left Morgan to enjoy the tender mercies that the club offered its initiates. He looked in to make sure I was okay, and Julia immediately conscripted him and told him to help keep me in line while I put on the dress and the other things.

I remained ready to resist, but I was told that if I didn’t cooperate, my clothes would be hidden where I’d never find them, and I’d be carried out into the woods clad only in my underwear and left to make my own way own just as I was.

It would be impossible for me to get back home in broad daylight unseen in this open area; and making it home at all after dark would be a difficult exercise by itself. I don’t really think Julia would have tried to carry out the threat, or that George would have helped her to this extent, but the idea scared me as much as Julia scared George, and I soon gave in. I didn’t see many alternatives. All of my other friends were occupied with Morgan’s initiation, so the chances of rescue from them were slim at best. If they were to find out what was going on, they might even help Julia and George just for the fun of it!

I was untied so that I could get dressed. But to ensure that I could be kept in line, I was always at least partially restrained. When my hands were free, my feet were shackled. When my feet were free, my hands were cuffed in front. This made getting dressed a slow, awkward, and (to me, at least) tedious procedure, but eventually it was accomplished.

I now wore a blue skirt that ran only halfway to my knees (not even Julia wanted to see me in a “mini”, thank God), pantyhose, high heels (how do women walk in those damned things anyway? *I* sure couldn’t!), and a long, black wig with a bow attached to it. What a ghastly sight I presented to myself in the mirror!

Then Julia remembered something she’d apparently forgotten. She had George bind me securely to the chair again. She had me gagged again too. I realized why when she got out the ear-piercing equipment! Gagging me turned out to be a sensible precaution. They could have heard me yelling all the way over in Timbuktu if she hadn’t done that first!

There was more futile struggling against Fate. This was cut short by a threat to put me and my beautiful new appearance on public display if I kept it up. Then there was a short sharp pain as my ears were pierced!

I didn’t mind the pain by itself so much, but I felt so... so *unmanly*! Whoever heard of a boy having his ears pierced?! Remember that this was only 1970. Such things were not in vogue for adolescent boys at the time – certainly not in *that* part of the country. If anyone ever noticed the piercings and knew why they were there, I’d be the laughing stock of the entire school!

I don’t even want to describe the ear-rings she put on me. They were those big god-awful ring things that Shazzan and Mr. Clean and fellows like them were always wearing. At least the idea that muscle-bound studs of that type wore ear-rings was something of a comfort. Not that this would stop anyone from laughing themselves sick if they ever saw *me* in the damned things! Nobody that I knew was going to compare me to tough guys like Shazzan or Mr. Clean! I’d be the guy who’d gotten dressed up *by* a girl *as* a girl!

I was moaning pathetically into my gag, looking at George as Julia fitted an ear-ring into one of my lobes. Then I noticed for the first time that George’s own ears had been pierced. As it turns out, they’d been pierced all along, since before I’d ever met George. Morgan’s ears were also pierced, I learned later. It’s not surprising that I didn’t notice this until now; I didn’t look at boys’ ears all that much. But I never understood how it was that their own parents never noticed the piercings. You’d think *they’d* have noticed something like this; especially their mother. But if their parents ever noticed, they apparently never made an issue of it.

Once I’d calmed down, Julia said she’d take the gag off if I promised to remain calm and not struggle or yell. I nodded in agreement, and she promptly removed my gag. “She’s done this to you too, George?” I asked him quietly, with more sympathy than recrimination in my voice.

“Ummm, yeah,” he replied, looking away from me – I’m unsure if it was embarrassment for himself or because he was ashamed that he’d helped his sister do the same thing to me. “We’ve been playing ‘dress-up’ since I was 10; with Morgan since he was 10 also. It’s always been part of our play when she ties one of us up. She makes us dress in some of her old clothes. We… sort of got used to it. We figured you’d like it better than us. You seem to like just about everything else people do to you!”

This put a new light on things. It occurred to me that what Julia was doing was not so much some kind of bizarre revenge as it was treating me like a member of the family. I know that sounds a bit strange, but I looked at Julia; and the look on her face looked more amused, fond, and wistful now than angry or upset. And then I thought to myself, why am I reacting like this? She’s not hurting me. She’s doing nothing more than treating me like I was her brother – or maybe her sister. It’s not like she was getting out the whips and chains and putting me into a dungeon – though I might have preferred *that*!

I had to raise an important point, however. “But how am I going to get all this makeup and other stuff off?” I asked. “If I go to school with my fingers covered with nail polish, everybody’s going to think I’m a weirdo!”

“The stuff comes right off,” Julia assured me. “I didn’t use real nail polish on you. I use some junk for testing on people to see how they like the colors. It’ll scrub off with a little effort when you wash up.”

Well, I still wasn’t too happy about the situation, but at least it was private humiliation only. I dealt with *that* every time somebody tied me up and played games with me; why should this be any different? Although this had turned out to be more of a genuine kidnap situation than the one my cousins had suckered me into the previous month, at least it had been a lot less scary.

That changed when Julia told George to go back to the initiation and leave me alone with her. Not daring to say anything (as you may have realized, Julia was a bit touchy), I just watched as George left the house, climbed onto his bike, and rode away. I was still securely tied into the chair as Julia stood right in front of me, hands on her hips, and smiled in a way that seemed both fond and wicked at the same time.

Julia stripped down to a pair of sexy lingerie she was wearing underneath her clothes, walked over, sat on my lap, embraced my bound form in her arms, and started to kiss me. At first she kissed me tenderly on the cheeks, but gradually she worked her way up to doing it more passionately on the mouth. I struggled at first as though I was being tortured, but I quickly desisted and started to kiss her back.

I felt a gentle hand on my midsection. Suddenly Willy wanted to come out and play! Then Julia exposed her breasts, shoved them up to my face, and had me start kissing them. Her breasts weren’t that large, but I didn’t feel the least bit like criticizing them!

“Next time I dress you up, Jason, I’m going to see about fitting you up with a fake set of *these!*” Julia told me. When she said this, I was startled, but the idea that there would be other “dress-up" occasions in the future no longer seemed so bad to me.

I’d finally accepted the situation and was getting into the spirit of things when the cavalry arrived. Naturally, they had to interrupt *this* part as opposed to the earlier one!

Rusty’s pickup truck tore into the driveway. It was followed closely by Walter’s car, with another car behind that one (it turned out to belong to Gary; he’d bought it just the previous week). Several of my friends piled out of the cars and came charging over to the house like cops on a raid. There was no time to untie me – let alone begin the process of defeminizing me – so Julia used the moments that she had available to get her own clothes back on.

My would-be rescuers didn’t burst in. They stopped at the door and knocked politely. Julia went to the door to greet them.

“Hi, Julia,” said Walter, as though this were an ordinary social visit. “Is Jason here?”

To my dismay, Julia simply opened the door and waved in my direction. I was now more mortified than ever! The initiation dress-up was one thing, but *this*?!

The others crowded around me and started to laugh.

“A couple of weeks early for Halloween, aren’t you, cuz?” Randy asked me.

“That’s a pretty scary costume, Jase,” Walter added unsympathetically.

I just sat in the chair and took it all in silence – as though I had any choice in the matter.

None of us had any idea at the time (except *maybe* Julia) what a premonition of things to come my cousins’ comments on my situation turned out to be – but that is the subject for a later story.

“How did you know what was going on, anyway?” I said. I didn’t ask them to untie me, and none of them offered to do so.

“Morgan told us you were here,” replied Rusty. “The way he said it made us suspicious, so we made him tell us everything. He didn’t want to flunk the initiation, after all, and he had to obey every command we gave him. So here we are.”

“Yay-y-y-y!” I replied with a lack of enthusiasm.

Julia and I explained to the others how I’d gotten into this situation. Julia took full advantage of the opportunity to voice her grievances against everybody present for not letting her into the club. As she was doing this, Walter and Randy exchanged a few whispered words. Then they freed me from the chair, without freeing my arms or legs, retied me, laid me on the floor, and sat down on top of me.

“Look at us, Julia,” Walter said to her in a calm tone of voice that was rather unusual for him. “Can you really imagine us doing this to *you*?”

Julia stared levelly back at Walter and Randy, and said nothing.

“Sure, you’d get to be on top some of the time, and as long as we kept it to ourselves, that’d be cool,” Walter continued. “But would it be fair to have a member who people would be afraid to have fun with the way we do with Jase? It’s bad enough with the younger kids – especially for the oldest ones like us. A girl – even a tough one like you – is even worse.

“And what about the more… intense kind of games we like to play? Would you want to do those with us? Not that any of *us* would mind, I’m sure, but how would *you* feel about it? Nobody in the club would ever force you to do anything you didn’t want to do, but wouldn’t you feel… well, pressured? And what would your folks say if they knew you were running around with a group of boys? Do you have any idea what people would *do* to us if word got out about the games we play and that *you* were involved? Your father would *shoot* us!”

“And with Jason we don’t have to worry about him getting pregnant either,” put in Randy. “Though he used to *look* pregnant before he dropped the weight!” he added. The last part seemed a bit unnecessary to me.

Julia thought for a moment. “I admit I hadn’t thought about some of the things you pointed out,” she replied. “But it’s so annoying that George and now Morgan get to go out and play games with their friends, while I have to stay home because I’ve got no friends of my own to visit. Even if I found other girls my age to hang around with who wouldn’t care that I’m black, I couldn’t have the same fun with them I have with my brothers, or could have with the rest of you. We don’t need to go too fast at once anyway, do we? After all, I’m sure you don’t do some things with the younger boys like Morgan either!”

“But people would *think* we’re doing it!” insisted Walter. “Boys chumming around, no one gets suspicious. But a girl…”

“Never mind what other people think,” Julia said. “You just let *me* worry about that. If people start saying things, I’ll set them straight! Besides, who’s going to see us? It’s not like you guys tie Jason up and sit on him in public!”

“We considered doing that once just to embarrass him,” Randy said and laughed loudly. “But we decided it was too risky.”

“She has a point though,” I put in, ignoring Randy. “Nobody sees you guys when you tie me up. No one needs to see her either.”

“Except that we can invite each other for sleepovers,” Walter reminded me. “Boys can do that. A boy inviting a girl over for a sleepover… that’s out of the question!”

“I could do it, at least,” Al said, talking for the first time. “Julia and Melanie get along well enough, so nobody would be suspicious if Melanie invites her over.”

“If Julia doesn’t mind sleepovers at my treehouse, or at Gary’s barn, we might be able to make some arrangements,” added David. “At least, except in the wintertime.”

“And of course George could invite guests over too,” I added, “and let Julia have…”

“That could be complicated too,” Julia interrupted, “unless my folks were out for the night. But they’ve been going out for much of the night more often lately. They leave me to “babysit” George and Morgan, so… maybe… hmmm…” she paused in thought, but for reasons I didn’t understand at the time (being a dolt) she was staring straight at *me* at the time.

“As for your becoming a regular member, well… we’ll have to discuss that among ourselves later,” said Walter. “We’d have to design a whole new initiation ceremony for you, since putting you in a dress isn’t likely to faze you much!”

“I’m beginning to understand why it didn’t faze George much either,” Al said. “You guys remember how little that seemed to bother him?”

“I’ll bet it won’t bother Morgan much either!” replied Walter. “Son of a gun! Maybe we should come up with something special in his case!”

“Maybe make him go to David’s house in just his undies?” suggested Randy.

Fortunately for Morgan, it was eventually decided it would be unfair to make him do the final part of his initiation differently than anybody else had. After all, it wasn’t his fault he was used to being forced to wear a dress. I was told that he made a cute-looking girl too – certainly cuter than *I* was. But I never got to see for myself – at least, not in that instance – because I was tied up with other matters at the time.

Well, the long and short of it was that Walter and the others promised to discuss Julia’s entry into the club “in committee” or some such thing at a special meeting later on, and that they’d eventually get back to her on the subject. Then, seeing that I didn’t seem to be in distress (as opposed to “this dress”), and remembering an initiation that they had to supervise (Morgan had been left with Brian, Michael, Gordon, and Kevin – and being at the mercy of all younger kids can be an ordeal sometimes), they left me tied up where Randy and Walter had placed me, exited the house, and drove away.

Julia stood at the front door and watched until everybody was out of sight. Then she closed and locked the front door and walked back over to me. Without untying me, she helped me to my feet, semi-walked and semi-dragged me over to her bedroom, got me over the bed, and gently eased me down onto it, back-side down. Then, without saying a word, she went to her bedroom door, closed and locked it, took off *everything* that she was wearing, and sat down right up on top of my chest!

For a while after that, she was Catwoman and I licked her… *Ahem!* you get the idea.

Though I was tied up and completely at Julia’s mercy, she was as gentle as could be. I have never known anyone – male or female – quite as mercurial as Julia, but when she was mellow, she was *mellow*! And after a while I learned not to let her less-mellow side scare me or even bother me as much as it had initially. Eventually, in fact, her less-mellow side proved to be just as much fun for the masochist side of me as the more mellow side was for Willy.

As time progressed, Julia gradually became more and more like a dominatrix in our relationship. However, it never got to the point where she really hurt me or forced me to do something I didn’t want to do; not that there was much left to explore in that area after I got used to playing “dress up”. But there were some things she did with (or to) me that were unique. Nobody else ever did those things.

I ended up staying as Julia’s guest and prisoner for the next two days and nights. Her parents were gone for the entire holiday weekend and therefore weren’t an issue. Morgan was also conveniently away undergoing his initiation. George was there to help torture Morgan – and to make sure that the others weren’t too rough on him. Anyway, Julia had the entire house – and me – all to herself right up to mid-afternoon the following day. She didn’t have to share me with anybody the entire time. George stayed away; I think he knew somehow that it wouldn’t be a good idea for him to return home. He’d probably have spent the night bound and gagged in his own bed.

We didn’t stay in the house the whole time, however. Julia took me for a drive that night. In my dress and makeup, of course, with my hands and feet cuffed and a two-foot lead connecting them together to make sure I didn’t try to run off. We drove through town in the dark. I could only hope that it was dark enough that nobody who saw me would realize who I was. Mercifully, Julia let me take off my glasses, so I was less likely to be recognized; I didn’t care that I couldn’t see worth a damn at night without them. Not as long as *I* wasn’t seen!

As far as I know, nobody recognized me or found out about the drive.

That night, Julia tied me spread-eagle – dress and all – in George’s bed, but slept in her own. Then, the next morning, we went for another drive – Sunday morning in broad daylight right past the town church! Oh my God! I wanted to die! But I was panicking for nothing. If anybody noticed me, no one cared. I realized belatedly that few people in this town knew me from Adam (or Eve or Phyllis) and that the chances of anybody other than my friends recognizing me were as remote as the moon.

After the drive, Julia took me back to her house and – after allowing me a quick wash and a change into a different dress – tied me back up into the chair for the day. We watched TV and talked together like two girls with plenty of time on their hands.

That night I was tied up into *her* bed. It was a long time before she let me get any sleep.

Monday afternoon, Julia finally set me free, helped me to clean up, and had me looking like a normal “red-blooded all-American boy” again long before her parents or brothers returned home. Afterward she drove me back to my aunt’s house.

I never took an active part in Morgan’s initiation, and I missed witnessing his own moment as a girl. But I heard that, to no one’s surprise, he took his stint as a girl quite easily and met David’s parents in a dress without a qualm.

Julia never did become a full-fledged member of the gang, even though it was eventually decided to offer her the chance. She decided that the offer was enough to satisfy her – along with occasional member visits to her house or discreet forays to private spots like the pond near David’s house. She never – as far as I know, anyway – became intimate with any other member of the club but me. On hot days, she’d wear a bikini when sitting on somebody she’d tied up (and she was as skilled at tying knots as anybody else). This was enough to make our day all by itself, but there was never any nudity or special intimacy with the others. Just with me.

I’m sure that this puzzled everybody else in the club. I never really understood it myself. But for the next two years, until Julia graduated from high school, she was my only “girlfriend” and I was her only “boyfriend”.

At the time, at least in that mostly white area, a white boy with a black girlfriend was virtually unheard of. But none of my friends seemed to care about the matter. My aunt and mother were a bit surprised when they found out about it eventually (of course they didn’t know about the more interesting details of the relationship) but they accepted it quietly – perhaps surprised that I’d been able to snag *any* girlfriend!

As for the other kids at school – well, the ones who were really our friends were cool with it too. The rest of them – I couldn’t have cared less what they thought. If they couldn’t accept something as relatively normal in my life as a “mixed” relationship, they certainly wouldn’t have approved of my other activities – so who needed them? But as far as I remember no one ever gave us a hassle about it. Perhaps people weren’t as invested in racism there as they were in other places in the country.

It was the stormiest of my adolescent relationships, but in many ways also the most fun.


*****
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Last edited by Jason Toddman on Wed Feb 02, 2011 9:01 am, edited 1 time in total.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Aug 29, 2010 12:13 pm

cricks5 wrote:Jason you said I might have a field day.

More like the Calgary Stampede every day of the year!

You have got to be kidding me. Even others I have read about or done this to in stories never were so convincing. You no doubt were loving every single minute of it inside. Come on you can admit it.

Ah well this story will not make me anymore sympathetic to your cause. Instead makes me even more determined to wrest your throne away!


Is that why you're spamming like a mofo today, Cricks? If so, don't knock yourself out. I already told you I'm cutting back and that you'll likely catch up to me eventually. No point in rushing it.
If you want the #1 spot, you're welcome to it, and may you get all the respect and adulation for it that it's brought me! :twisted:
As for I much I inwardly loved it when Julia made me do dress up - that's for me to know and for you to speculate! :mrgreen:
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Aug 30, 2010 9:27 am

Good continuation! Thanks!
:tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :big: :big: :big: :big: :big:
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Mon Aug 30, 2010 11:34 am

cricks5 wrote:Show us more please Jason. The forum demands it!


Patience Cricks. I am still writing the things and making illustrations for them. The chapters are consideably longer than in previous parts, you'll notice. Anyway, don't count on more than one of these a week, and since the second part was posted only yesterday... well, you'll just have to be patient. :big: Expect Episode Three this coming Sunday or Monday, where I... uhhh... acquire a steady boyfriend as well as having a girlfriend... :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops: :oops:
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jay Feely » Tue Aug 31, 2010 1:09 pm

I am jealous that my high school years did not involve tie up games as extreme as you had to go through. It was in the 2000's, and the number of people who had interest in tied up games diminshed by then especially in Texas. However, some short tied up games was played, as you probably already noticed in some of my stories and I hope to have some more in my college years to share.
You will have to subdue me to restrain me. I been a bad boy so make sure you torture me too with anything but pain.

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Sep 05, 2010 7:57 am

To Jay: I am unsure people's interest in TuGs has diminished; probably the opposite if anything as there is not quite as much stigma attached. But it may take such searching. On my part, it was pure dumb luck that I happened to live for a while with two TuGs-crazy teenagers with some friends they had introduced TuGs to (or had it introduced to them, I've never been sure exactly who started the trend, only that there was a well-ebtablished group by the time I got in on it). If I lucked into being at the right place at the right time, I likely would never have known about it on my

CHAPTER 3: MYRON’S GHOST


By about the middle of October, it was clear to most of the people who knew me that Julia was officially my girlfriend. Almost everybody seemed to take it pretty well – even Julia’s parents, who liked me because I was perhaps George’s most frequent peer-age visitor (though we didn’t attend the same school because he was only in eighth grade). I would now be visiting Julia as much as I was visiting George, but even George seemed to be okay with this. He told me (when Julia was safely out of earshot) that his sister seemed to have mellowed out considerably since that bizarre weekend when she’d made me play “dress up”.

Sometimes Julia and I would hang out together after school for about an hour, until classes let out at the Junior High School; then we’d pick up George. Sometimes Julia and George would drop me off at my aunt’s house on their way home; other times, they’d stop and visit (with or without TuGs fun entering the picture). Occasionally I’d go with them to their house for a while – perhaps even until after dinner – before Julia took me home in her car (I wasn’t old enough to drive yet). I didn’t visit overnight unless – as far as their parents were concerned – I was doing so to sleep over with George. Though I didn’t mind the idea of being kept tied up in George’s bed all night, I didn’t dare even *think* about spending the night in Julia’s room! Some things just weren’t done; not when parents were home, anyway!

About the only person who seemed to take my relationship with Julia badly was Rusty, who was now a senior at the high school.

Rusty and I were still friends. Although we didn’t see each other much at school (it was considered unseemly for seniors to mix socially with freshmen, even if they were friends elsewhere), we still talked after classes let out. Occasionally, if Julia happened to be otherwise engaged, Rusty would drive me home in his own vehicle, as my aunt’s house was on the way to his. Many times he’d also stay to visit for a while and, as my aunt usually wasn’t home and Randy and Walter were often away for sports practice, we’d be able to get in an hour or two of TuGs in the privacy of my room without being disturbed.

About ten days after my “dress-up” adventure with Julia, and a few days after the news of my boyfriend-girlfriend relationship with her made the rounds, Rusty asked me to come to his house after school and visit with him for a while. He said that his parents wouldn’t be home and that he wanted somebody to talk to. I knew that he was still upset about Myron’s departure, and it was also the first invitation of this type he’d extended since Myron had left, so I agreed immediately.

Rusty didn’t seem talkative during the drive to his house. In fact, he didn’t even respond (unless you count grunts as responses) to the two or three (probably lame) attempts that I made to initiate a conversation. Whatever it was that he wanted to talk about, he was in no hurry to get started; so I gave up and waited for him to proceed in his own good time. I simply watched the autumn foliage go past us until we finally reached his house. In all that time Rusty didn’t say one word. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t feeling unfriendly or angry, but he did seem agitated.

When we got out of Rusty’s car and walked to his house, he still wasn’t talking. He simply stared at the house that Myron used to live in (which was just barely visible past the trees next to Rusty’s driveway) as we walked until – near Rusty’s front door – Myron’s house was finally out of sight. Then Rusty seemed to remember that he had a guest and was more like his usual affable self as he opened the door and let me in.

We went to the kitchen, where Rusty served me a cold can of soda, and then to his room, which I now saw for the very first time. I’d visited him on several occasions previously but we’d always gone straight down into his dungeon-like cellar (through the kitchen entrance) where Rusty and Myron had usually tied me up before I could blink.

But this time, the cellar held no appeal for Rusty. It was clear that he still liked tying me up, though, because I’d barely even noticed where the bed was before he was beckoning me to lie down on top of it. He was already pulling a coil of rope out from a box in his closet as he did this.

Well, I certainly didn’t mind this turn of events! I took off my shirt and tossed it onto a nearby chair and then kicked off my sneakers and pulled off my white tube socks before lying down on the bed. I looked up at Rusty as he approached, stopped, looked silently at my waist, and nodded his head downward. I was a bit surprised he was in the mood for *that*, but I sat up, pulled off my pants as well (leaving me wearing just my boxers), lay down again as before, and spread my arms and legs wide for the tie-up. As I was doing this, Rusty stripped down as well until he was dressed (if you can call it that) the same way as I was.

Rusty still didn’t talk much as he began tying me up in the usual spread-eagle fashion. He simply got down on one knee, quickly and efficiently tied a limb securely to the bedpost and bed-frame (rendering it totally immobile but still comfortable), stood up, walked over to the next limb with another coil of rope, and got down on one knee again to repeat the process.

Once all four limbs were fastened, Rusty climbed onto the bed, swung one leg over my prone body, straddled my belly, and began to rub my chest gently. I simply lay there and enjoyed the experience as he continued stroking me, letting him take his time. I assumed that he’d talk when he felt like it.

It took him about twenty minutes. “I miss him,” Rusty said to me finally. I didn’t need a house to drop on top of me to know who he meant, of course.

I waited for Rusty to continue, but he didn’t. He just continued to sit there; watching my chest while he stroked it rather than look me in the eye. “I – I miss him too,” I finally said when it became clear that some kind of response was expected.

I suppose this was the response Rusty wanted, but his reaction took me by surprise and dismayed me. He stopped rubbing my chest and began to cry like a small child rather than the grown (almost overgrown) young man he actually was. To hear Rusty, you’d think Myron had died in some kind of tragic accident rather than simply moved to another state. If anything, Rusty wept even harder than I had during my own father’s funeral only two months before. I didn’t know what to say, so I decided it was best not to say anything at all.

But I could understand Rusty’s feelings. Myron had been like a kid brother and not just a best friend; well, like a kid brother until they’d started to play piston engine (partly because of me). And now Myron was gone forever. And, to make matters worse in Rusty’s eyes, Rusty was sure that wherever Myron was, he was just as unhappy as *he* was!

I wasn’t pained by my own brother’s departure (he’d joined the Navy recently), but I figured it might be hard to lose somebody who was more like a genuine brother. I’d always thought that if any two people should have been brothers, it was these two. Hell, they even looked like they *were* brothers, as they both had reddish hair and faces thickly clustered with freckles, and their faces were similar as well.

“Guess what my dad told me today…” Rusty told me amidst some sniffles.

Oh… my… God! Normally I’m slow on the uptake when it comes to real-life drama, but for once I knew exactly what somebody was going to tell me before they did so.

It seems Rusty’s father and Myron’s mother had been intimate for years, including the period when Rusty was conceived and during his early childhood. Rusty’s mother hadn’t known. From what Rusty told me, she might not have cared much either way after Rusty himself arrived. Raising Rusty became her whole life for a while, and though Rusty’s father loved him, he’d grown lonely for adult female company and his affair with Myron’s mother had deepened. And the married lady next door had a husband who didn’t properly appreciate her because she hadn’t borne him any children. She’d solved Rusty’s father’s loneliness problem, and he’d solved hers... in more ways than one.

Even before Myron was born, Rusty’s father knew whose child it was. But Myron’s mother and Rusty’s father agreed that it would be unnecessarily hurtful to their other partners if the truth came out. And so each brother was raised as an only child, unaware that the kid next door was his half-brother. But perhaps they knew at some level that they belonged together, because they became close friends from early childhood on despite the three-year gap in their ages. Of course, the fact that there were no other neighbors near the same ages living closer than a mile away may have had something to do with it.

Everything had been harmonious until sometime in mid-summer, when Myron’s legal “father” had found out who Myron’s father really was (I never learned how that happened; whether it was accidental or Myron’s mother simply told him). He didn’t take it very well, and relations between the three adults became strained. Rusty’s mother wasn’t told. Myron and Rusty didn’t know at the time either, as no one had deemed it necessary to tell them or – thankfully – separate them prematurely. But Myron’s legal parents thought that it would be best to pull up stakes and relocate to a new state, where hopefully their marriage could be salvaged. Myron’s and Rusty’s feelings didn’t enter into the matter.

Eventually, Rusty’s father told him the truth. I’m not sure why. Perhaps he’d felt enough time had passed that Rusty would be able to handle the truth. But it didn’t look as though this was the case.

Rusty told me his story while continuing to straddle my belly as I lay there tied up; his hands resting on his knees and his slender body bent forward toward me. Then, without any warning, he straightened out his gangly body, lay down right on top of me, hugged me to his chest in such a strong grip that I almost passed out (the breath was squeezed out of me), and started to cry again harder than ever.

His head was right beside mine, with his face buried in the same pillow the back of my head lay on. He wept so bitterly that he was starting to cough like someone with pneumonia. I started to become alarmed. I was concerned for Rusty’s safety (what if he should choke while I was still tied up and couldn’t help him?) and for my own (who was going to untie me if he got too excited and had some kind of fit?). So I acted in the only way I could think of that might help to calm Rusty down. I kissed him on the cheek.

Well, I *aimed* for his cheek, but he turned his head at that exact moment and I kissed him on the eye instead.

Well, *that* filled me with chagrin for a moment, but it seemed to do wonders for Rusty all the same. Taking my attempt to comfort as it was intended, he stopped crying and began to laugh – well, he went “Bleah!” or something like that first – and then hugged me again, resting his head against mine with a sigh of… contentment might be too strong a word, but that’s what it sounded like at the time.

“I’m sorry Myron is gone,” I said as I tried to comfort Rusty. “I miss him too. But at least we have each other; and the other guys too…”

I don’t think he heard me past the words “each other”, because he started talking mournfully again right over the remaining few words I said before I sputtered to a stop.

“Do we? That’s what *I* thought up to now, but now I hear you and Julia are getting pretty close. Now that you’ve got a girlfriend, you aren’t going to have much time for *me*, are you?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked Rusty with some genuine surprise. “I had time for you when a dozen or so other kids all wanted to tie me up and torture the Bejezus out of me at the same time. What makes you think one girl in addition to the rest of the gang is going to make any difference?”

He looked at me like I’d sprouted a third eye.

“If *I’d* ever had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t have had time for anybody else, except *maybe* Myron”, Rusty told me quietly. “Are you telling me that even with a girlfriend, you’ll *still* spend just as much time with me and the others as you have been?”

“Maybe a *little* less to give *her* some time, I suppose,” I replied casually. “But I won’t be spending any more time with her than I do with you or any of the others. Well, except for Randy and Walter, of course, since I live in the same house with them.”

Rusty stared at me like I was sprouting several more eyes. He then jerked his head back as if I was spouting flames at him in the bargain.

“If anyone else told me that, I’d say they were full of s**t!” he told me with a sudden laugh. “But you really mean it, don’t you?”

“Well, of course,” I replied, puzzled that he’d think otherwise.

Rusty lay down and buried his face in his chest; and his hair rubbed against the base of my throat and the bottom of my chin. “I – I thought I was going to lose *you* too!” he told me – his words rather muffled because he didn’t raise his head. I think this is the only time a *guy* said those kind of words to me in my entire life. There would be partings between me and my friends later on, of course, but none of these included the kind of heartfelt grief Rusty expressed to me when he only *imagined* he would be losing my friendship.

Not even when Rusty and I saw each other for the last time for real, though the circumstances were different then. That’s another story for another time.

Anyway, I didn’t have the slightest idea about how to respond to something like this, and so (unusually for me) I chose the wisest course and said nothing at all. I just lay there as if I were gagged and let Rusty get it all out of his system. This took another half an hour or so, but I didn’t mind. I never minded it when one of my friends was laying on top of me in his boxers while I was tied up, regardless of his emotional state – though naturally I preferred it when my captor/partner was in a happier mood than Rusty was on this occasion.

Finally, though, Rusty composed himself and got back up to a kneeling position. “Mom and Dad aren’t going to be home tonight,” he finally told me. “Dad… feels it’s time he told Mom about… about Myron, you know? And he decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to do it here with me around. So, ummm… could you stay the night with me? Please? Or at least the evening? I know it’s a school night, but… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Fortunately, I didn’t have any homework to worry about, and Rusty said he could launder my clothes overnight so I’d have clean clothes to wear to school in the morning. So I had no objection, but I told Rusty I’d have to call my aunt and clear it with her. And she wouldn’t be home for a while yet (it was only about 4:00pm in the afternoon and she generally didn’t get back from work until about 5:30pm).

So, to pass the time, Rusty untied me from the bed and we went out into the backyard, still dressed only in our boxer shorts (although it was mid-October, it was a warm, sunny afternoon). We had no concerns for our privacy, as no one could see the backyard from the road or anywhere around unless they flew by in an airplane.

And there, in the backyard, we played a game that Myron and Rusty used to play. Rusty loosely hobbled my feet so that I could run only slowly and tied my hands behind my back as well. Then I ran while Rusty tried to snare me with a lariat. Eventually he was successful. He was much better with a lariat than I’d have thought. After he snared me, he tackled me, hogtied me like a roped steer, and proceeded to tickle the living daylights out of me.

I cried foul and demanded a rematch without the handicap of having my feet hobbled. Rusty agreed, freed me from the hogtie, and took the ropes off my feet. I could now run as fast as I normally could – but as my hands were still tied I felt that it wasn’t safe to run flat out, so I still couldn’t dodge that darned lariat.

Within ten more minutes I was hogtied and being tickled again!

I cried foul a second time. Yeah, I was a crybaby! So we tried it without my being under any restraints at all. My hands as well as my feet were free, so I didn’t have to worry about what would happen if I tripped or fell.

Fat lot of good it did me. Ten minutes later, I was hogtied tighter than ever and gagged as a bonus. No more crying foul for me! Rusty sat on my upper shoulders and tickled my feet so long and persistently that I exhausted myself laughing through the gag.

Then Rusty decided it might be fun to ride horseback for a while, so he gave me a choice: be untied and carry him around the backyard, or stay hogtied and be tickled until it was time to call my aunt. I knew that I’d be an exhausted wreck if he tickled me that long, so I decided to be his horse.

He untied me but made a new type of gag that resembled a horse’s bridle more than a regular gag. It was made from a piece of leather-padded wood that I was made to bite into, and then my jaws were tied shut with something that was, in fact, like a bridle. He held the leads in his hands as he rode on my shoulders to guide me. But at least I was unrestrained otherwise.

Rusty was about three inches taller than I was, but fortunately he had a lean frame and was actually about 20 pounds lighter. I was able to carry him around at a slow (if slightly staggering) walk. It was tiring but less so than being tickled. I figured this must be a game he’d invented specially for me, as I couldn’t imagine Myron (who was smaller than I was) being able to carry Rusty without immediately collapsing. Later on I learned that Myron *had* played this game with Rusty – but Myron was the rider and Rusty was the faithful steed. Regardless, I didn’t mind being Rusty’s horse; to me, it was just another variation of my favorite activity.

As evening closed in and it got cooler outside, Rusty and I went back inside to his room. He tied me up into his bed again and we talked and watched TV for a while until we were sure my aunt would be home. Rusty had a phone in his room by his bed, so he dialed my aunt’s phone number, climbed back on top of me, and held the receiver to my ear for me (this was necessary since my hands were lashed to the bedposts). He knelt/sat on me during the entire five-minute conversation that I had with my aunt; this was a slightly surreal experience, to say the least.

Anyway, after some minutes of cajoling on my part (this was necessary because it was a school night) my aunt gave me permission to stay over with Rusty. We agreed that he would drive me straight to school in the morning.

With the matter settled, Rusty tickled me into hysterics again for a while, then he went into the kitchen to fix us some leftovers to eat. He hand-fed me while straddling my midriff as I lay there tied up in his bed. It was somewhat messy, but he cleaned me off afterward with a wet towel; this was better than the meal itself.

For dessert (*ahem!*) Rusty offered me the usual selection of warm one-eyed sausage – with cream on top afterward. About the only awkward part about this was that a certain clump of hairs tickled my nose and I almost sneezed all over his offering before he could pull back. Fortunately for our dignity that mini-crisis was averted just in time.

Rusty decided on a different recipe for his own dessert. He smeared a creamy yellow jelly on the sausage that I offered him, kneaded the sausage until it was good and hard, raised himself up, and gently eased himself down until he’d consumed dessert from the opposite end. Then things got interesting as he gently bounced up and down for a while, stopping just as I was getting ready to explode, then resuming after a pause. Soon I got so aroused that I started to bounce back, and it was as though Rusty was riding a bucking bronco! I even yelled “Ride ‘em, Cowboy!” just before I finally gave one last buck and scored – I sank my putt at last.

Rusty cleaned us off, and then we watched TV for a few hours – with me laying on my back and Rusty laying on my front and our private areas caressing each other. Then, just before lights out, we had an encore with a “69“.

I couldn’t sleep afterward, and neither could Rusty, so we talked quietly with each other long into the night. We discussed Myron in particular, and Rusty told me about the fun times they’d had growing up.

Even before Rusty and Myron had become intimate, they’d been playing TuGs with each other. Rusty said that he’d been tying up Myron since he was 10 (and Myron was 7) and had taught Myron knot-tying (which Rusty had learned in the Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts) so that the younger boy could tie him up as well. Myron was apparently a natural at knot-tying; he was putting Rusty up into inescapable (for Rusty, anyway) ties by the time that *he* was 10 years old. Myron would have joined the Cub Scouts himself, but for some unexplained reason his parents wouldn’t let him do so. But meeting Walter and others with similar tastes had given Myron new methods to try on Rusty, who had finally joined the club a year after Myron did.

Then Rusty and I talked about *us*.

This night was a turning point. I continued to develop a relationship with Julia that was both open and intimate. At the same time, my relationships with most of my male friends began to grow less intimate until – with a few exceptions – there was no more intimacy between us by the end of my freshman year than there had been in the summer of 1969.

The biggest exceptions were my two cousins, who maintained a close relationship with each other and with me; the fact that we all lived in the same house (with a second floor that was our exclusive domain) contributed to this. David and his brother Brian were another two exceptions; although our intimacies were infrequent over the next year, they didn’t stop completely. With Al, Ron, and Gary, intimate relationships did cease almost entirely until the following summer. Although the tie-up and torment games continued (both with the older boys and with the younger club members), they were less frequent and no longer involved full nudity, piston engine, “69”, or similar entertainments and diversions.

But the biggest change that followed this night was that Rusty and I became more intensely and frequently intimate with each other for the remainder of my freshman year. There may even have been more intimacy between Rusty and me in a sense than between Julia and me, as it was often easier to spend time with Rusty than with the more mercurial Julia. In a sense, while Julia was my girlfriend, Rusty became my “boyfriend”. Unlike my relationship with Julia, however, nobody knew for sure about Rusty and me except for Randy, Walter, David, and Brian; not even the other club members, as far as I’m aware.

Rusty’s parents may have suspected something, as I became a rather frequent visitor over the next few months. However, if so, they never said a word about it. Perhaps they felt that I was merely replacing Myron as Rusty’s best friend – which was true enough. Additionally, they were preoccupied because they had their own problems to deal with at this point. Divorce was being discussed.

Quite often, one or both of Rusty’s parents were weren’t home at all, and Rusty started to feel even more hurt as his parents’ marriage began to fall apart. Without Myron around, I was Rusty’s only consolation.

I think Julia must have had her own suspicions about my relationship with Rusty, as she seemed to feel (quite accurately) that she was competing with Rusty for my time. But there wasn’t any rancor on her part over the matter, which was surprising; I’d pegged her as being the jealous type. In fact, she even set me up on a date of sorts – with Rusty. Dressing me up as a girl. Hmmm… maybe there *was* a bit of rancor on her part after all; but, if so, she took it out on me rather than on Rusty.

But that’s a story for next time.


.
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Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Sep 06, 2010 8:18 am

Very good chapter 3. Thanks!
:tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :big: :big: :big: :big: :big:
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Sep 12, 2010 9:28 pm

EPISODE 4: HALLOWEEN DATE



My first-ever “real” date fell on Halloween. Taking everything that had happened into account, the date for my date was quite appropriate. For one thing, I was dressed as a girl.

For another, my date was a boy! Rusty, of course.

The only thing that kept me from total embarrassment was the fact that we attended a costume party, so my little dress-up was considered daring rather than weird. Thankfully, it was also anonymous, as nobody outside the tie-up and torment club knew who I was.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, so let me start over.

A few days before Halloween, I was told about a costume party that was to be held at the high school gymnasium on Halloween night, which that year was on a Saturday. Attendance would be free for students attending the high school, the junior high next to us, and the grade school next to that. I wasn’t interested in going at first, but I learned that several of my friends would be there, and Rusty said that he wanted to go and wanted me to come with him… just two friends hanging out together at a costume party. I still wasn’t too keen on the idea, as I had no idea what to wear for a costume and I’d been hoping for a quiet Tug evening with Walter and Randy. But Rusty seemed so forlorn that I didn’t want to go with him that I gave in and told him I’d attend. This made him happy, and I was glad about that, but the other problem was still there. I had no idea what the hell I should wear for a costume!

Julia drove me home that afternoon. Along the way, I told her about the costume party, and I asked her if she had any good costume ideas. She looked me over, got a funny look in her eye (which I quickly forgot and remembered only in retrospect) and told me she had the perfect costume for me. A little work would be needed to make it fit me, but she’d bring it over to my aunt’s house early Saturday afternoon so that we could make the necessary alterations. I said “Great!” and that was that.

Come Saturday morning, I was looking forward to Julia’s visit. But I should have found somewhere to hide and not come out until the next day!

Aunt Yvette, as was her custom at this time (between my father’s death and my mother’s move to the area the following June), had gone for the weekend to be with my mother at the old house. I’d offered to go with her once or twice, as I hadn’t spent much time with Mom myself since the start of summer and I missed her. But it was decided that I’d be bored to tears with only two middle-aged ladies for company all weekend, as I had no real friends of my own back at the old neighborhood and nothing much to do (most of my personal belongings had been moved to my aunt’s house over the past two months). Though I missed my mother, I didn’t press the matter and so I spent the weekends at my aunt’s house.

But this was one weekend when perhaps I should have insisted on visiting my mother.

As was my own custom, I headed to the bathroom to shower right after my aunt had left for her visit; I was shy about walking around the house in just my underwear while she was home. I wasn’t concerned about my cousins seeing me in my underwear, of course; we’d long since moved past that point. I had a nice long shower, toweled myself dry, put on a clean set of boxer shorts, and stepped out of the bathroom.

I started back to my room upstairs to get dressed, as I was expecting Julia to come along within a couple of hours to show me the costume that she was making for me; at the time having o odea what it would be. But I wasn’t to see the inside of my room for the rest of the day. In fact, I didn’t take more than three steps before Walter and Randy (who had been silently waiting outside the bathroom on either side of the door) tackled me from behind, wrestled me to the floor, and tied me up. It happened in a blink of an eye; one moment, a relaxed walk, and the next, Tug-World.

This wasn’t the first time they’d done this (and not the last either), but for some reason it never occurred to me to make sure the coast was clear before I emerged from the bathroom. But it probably wouldn’t have helped if I had.

“Hey!” I yelled in outrage; a little disgruntled, for once, at being ambushed and tied up without warning. “This is no time for a tie-up! Let me go! I’ve got to get dressed!”

“You’ve got *that* right!” Randy replied before he started to laugh, sounding as usual a bit like a donkey.

“Oh shit!” I thought to myself. Whenever Randy laughs like that, it means trouble for somebody – and that somebody is usually *me*!

“What gives?!” I asked. I’d already quit struggling as I was already pretty much secured and helpless by then anyway.

“We’re just helping you get ready for your costume,” replied Walter. “You’ll see what we mean once Julia gets here!” Randy added with an evil grin. This didn’t clarify things much.

Walter and Randy got off me, stood up, bent down, and helped me to my own feet. Then they frog-marched me over to the kitchen, sat me down onto my usual chair, and proceeded to tie me to it.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Walter asked me with a bit more sympathy. “Since we’ve tied up your plans for the day, the least we can do is get you something to eat.”

“How about some Eggs Benedict?” I suggested.

I got a bowl of Wheaties spoon-fed to me instead. I didn’t complain, as it would have done me no good and might have deprived me of *any* breakfast. Besides, it’s probably what I’d have had for breakfast anyway, and Walter knew it.

After breakfast, Randy and Walter gagged me, but contrary to their usual practice, they didn’t torment me directly in any way. They simply left me tied to the chair as they lugged me – and it – into the living room, plunked me down in front of the TV set and turned on the TV. The program that was on was a mindless piece of crap called “The Bugaloos” … so in a sense they *did* torment me, albeit indirectly. Attempts to get them to change the channel or shut the wretched TV off fell on deaf ears. They simply puttered around the house (out of earshot of the TV) and ignored my suffering.

“The Bugaloos” was followed by an even worse show called “H.R. Pufnstuf”. “Oh My God! Whatever happened to *good* Saturday morning cartoons like Space Ghost and The Herculoids?” I wondered to myself. I swore I’d get even with my cousins for putting me through this horrible ordeal at the first opportunity. However, the *real* ordeal was yet to come.

Julia finally arrived, and for a moment I thought she was going to rescue me. Despite all of the lessons I’d had, I was still remarkably naive sometimes. The first words I heard her say when Walter opened the front door dashed my hopes. “Got him all tied down?” she asked my cousin.

“Yep! Just like you asked,” Walter said smugly. “He’s in the living room.”

Julia came in, saw me, and laughed gently. I saw her and moaned… she was holding a large dress from the 1920s era suspended from a clothes hanger in one hand and a box of makeup supplies in the other. I knew that I’d been set up big-time once again. My Halloween costume was going to be the dress – whether I liked it or not! And it had been Julia’s idea to have me tied down and unable to oppose her plans in the first place!

Pleas for mercy would have fallen upon deaf ears even if I weren’t gagged, so I made no attempt to express my outrage other than let my eyes show my feelings of being betrayed. It got me no pity from my friends turned captors whatsoever… they set out to complete their wicked plans for me regardless.

I now discovered for the first time why Walter and Randy were so skilled at applying makeup to boys during club initiations when new members were forced to impersonate girls as their final ordeal. They had gotten the idea from Julia, and she’d even taught them how to use feminine beauty supplies. They hadn’t known until recently that she’d been doing the same thing to her two younger brothers on a regular (if infrequent) basis for years, but now that they knew about it, they felt that George and Morgan shouldn’t have all the fun.

The three of them began to work on me. They had to remove my gag, of course, but they promised that all sorts of unpleasant things would happen if I resisted the beauty treatment in any way. They didn’t actually specify what the unpleasant things would be, or even when they would take place. However, I gathered that if I didn’t let them make my life miserable now, they would surely make it even more miserable later on. The only explicit threat that they made involved taking me to the Halloween party anyway - with my costume being my boxer shorts, handcuffs, leg-cuffs, a blindfold, and a gag.

After due consideration, I decided that I’d go along with the makeup and the dress.

I found out at about this time that Julia had gotten the idea for making me wear this dress on Halloween back when Walter and Randy saw me in a dress at Julia’s house earlier in the month – and commented that I was early for Halloween. Oh, how I prayed over the next few hours that someday I could get even with them for that indignity. The day eventually came when the opportunity came to me to do so – but it would not be the satisfying occasion I was imagining it would be.

I’ll forgo describing the tedious and torturous process I went through at their hands in their efforts to “beautify” me. It was similar to what Julia had done to me just a couple of weeks before, though with my cousins’ skilled and willing assistance, Julia was able to do a more thorough job of it this time.

The new ordeal included something that had never been done to me before: they shaved off all of my body hair anywhere that it would show. At 14 I didn’t have a hell of a lot of it, but I did have *some*. Well, *had* some; now it was gone. My opinions about the matter were ignored. I had to at least be thankful that no one felt it necessary to shave off my pubic hair! Although that possibility wasn’t voiced, it was strongly implied (a razor blade being stroked in mid-air above that region) that it might happen if I protested too much about my legs being shaved. So I didn’t protest too much.

I almost resumed squawking when Julia brought out a convincing set of false breasts and started to fit them on me while I was still tied. My squawks faded into fearful silence when Randy pretended he was going to pull down my boxers and shave off my pubic hair after all. They had me by the short hairs all right – and I didn’t want to lose them! After all, it wasn’t as though such a thing would stay a secret for very long with my rather uninhibited life-style – even assuming that my cousins didn’t spread the word themselves.

Then, to my added horror (and my cousins’ delight) I saw that Julia had found an old-fashioned set of pantyhose – the kind that looks like a net to keep the mosquitoes off. My “friends” were determined to see to it that my Halloween was going to be more “trick” than “treat”! I was to look like a gun moll or a “flapper” from a 1920s gangster movie!

My legs were freed and I was compelled to remove my boxers (nudity in front of them was of course too ordinary and commonplace to warrant a protest), put on a pair of panties, put on the pantyhose and then step into the dress. Once I was fully “dressed” I was handcuffed to the chair again but my feet were left free – after all, where could I go *now*? Then I was fitted with ear-rings, a pearl necklace, and one of my aunt’s wigs to complete my transformation into a goddess.

Oh yes, there was also a set of high-heel shoes – big enough to fit me. But at least they had the decency to not force me to wear those things until it was time to go to the party.

Randy said that I looked good enough to take out on a date, but I was sure he was just having a joke at my expense; I thought I looked dreadful. I compared myself to Phyllis Diller, as I'd done the last time… and I felt inadequate by comparison!

Rusty was due to arrive at 4:00pm. I was kept handcuffed to the chair all afternoon while we waited for him. I had only a late lunch hand-fed to me and continued teasing by my captors to alleviate boredom.

Rusty showed up right on time, and he came into the house in his own chosen costume. I took one look and started to think that perhaps the whole thing wouldn’t be so bad, because Rusty had picked the one costume that might possibly focus more attention on *him* than on *me*.

Dressed as I was, a 1920s gun moll, I’d expected Rusty to be dressed like Al Capone. But apparently he hadn’t been told about my costume. His own costume came as a surprise; he was Tarzan, which is O.K. but not everybody can pull it off. Rusty wasn’t one of them. Instead, he was the scrawniest Tarzan that I have *ever* laid eyes on!

Rusty was dressed in a fake leopard skin costume that covered most of his lean torso and chest and one shoulder rather than the small Speedos-like loincloth that Tarzan usually wore in the comics. He also wore a set of slippers made of similar material rather than go around bare-footed in late October; this much, at least, seemed sensible. There was a headband as well. Supposedly this outfit was similar to the costume that the first movie Tarzan – Elmo Lincoln – had worn way back in 1918. However, Rusty’s costume covered somewhat more of him, and it fitted his skinny frame like a tent. I had nothing to fear about my own costume; Rusty looked *that* ridiculous!

He did, however, do a convincing imitation of Jonny Weissmuller’s famous yodel.

Walter gave Rusty the keys to my handcuffs so that I could go with him. “Take the cuffs with you,” Walter told him. “You can use them on him if he gives you any trouble.”

“Enjoy your date,” added Randy with one of his annoying laughs as Rusty un-cuffed me and deliberately let the cuffs drop onto the floor. He helped me get those high heels on (thankfully the heels were extra wide a d weren't as unstable as they looked) and we went out the door as soon as possible.

“I’m really sorry about this, Jason,” Rusty said as we crossed the yard to his Volkswagen, and I was mentally cursing whoever had invented high heels – especially high heels big enough to fit my size 11 feet! “I had no idea they were going to do this to you, or I’d have put a stop to it. I just wanted us to have a good time together doing something other than…”

“It’s okay, Rusty,” I assured him honestly. “I didn’t think it was *your* idea.”

“We don’t have to go to the party if you don’t want to,” he told me. “I can always take you home with me and get you a costume that looks… well, less eye-catching. Though we might win first prize as Most Interesting Couple if we go as we are.”

“They actually have a prize for that?” I asked skeptically.

“Yeah, there are several prizes,” he told me. “Most Original Costume; Best Home-made Costume; Most Interesting Couple; Scariest Costume; Most Daring Costume… we might have a shot at that one too… and one or two others, I think. The prize is twenty-five dollars for each one.”

Well, this encouraged me a little. I decided that maybe it might be worth a little public embarrassment if I could pick up some prize money, and a costume party might be fun despite my get-up. After all, I’d never been to a party before (except for birthday parties I’d attended in grade school) and I was curious to see what one was like. And if things got too humiliating, we could always just leave.

To add to my disguise, I had exchanged my glasses for a new pair of contact lenses that I had recently gotten and hadn’t tried out yet. Now was the time to try them out; this way, I might be able to get away from any really embarrassing encounters without anybody knowing who I was. After all, with that wig and dress and the rest of it, I doubt my own mother would have recognized me without the glasses, which were distinctive enough to be a dead giveaway to people who knew me at all well.

We arrived at the party as it was getting started, before there were many people there. We figured that if we caused too much of a stir among a few people, we could leave before the real crowds arrived. Most of the kids there were younger than I was, and I noticed no one that I knew. Perfect so far. If this didn’t work out, we’d take off and no one would know I’d come in a dress.

“Hey, Rusty! Jason! Is that you?” I heard a semi-familiar voice call out. Well, so much for not being recognized without my glasses.

I’d been concerned about being recognized, but I’d failed to recognize somebody else myself. It was Stevie, the tall kid I’d met at Gary’s place a couple of months earlier. He looked taller than ever, and it was clear that he’d be taller and thinner than Rusty was by the time he was my age; he was already taller than many boys two years older than he was.

Stevie was dressed as a cop. With him was a kid I didn’t know, dressed in a stereotypical striped prisoner’s outfit and with his hands bound behind him with handcuffs – real ones, not fake toy handcuffs. This kid was about 12 but still shorter (if stockier) than his “captor". I noticed that he didn’t seem to mind being handcuffed in public, even though it must have been hard for him to do anything without Stevie's help..

“Nice costumes, guys,” Stevie said to us with apparent honesty rather than sarcasm. “I like yours especially, Jason. You make a good-looking woman.”

He said this so sincerely that I was forced to accept it at face value. I simply thanked him rather than smacking him one upside his head. However, remembering that his initiation was coming up the following weekend, I couldn’t resist a little dig. “Glad you like the dress. You can wear it during your initiation next weekend.”

This didn’t seem to faze him at all. The following week I found out why when I witnessed his initiation; he’d been warned ahead of time about that part. This seemed a bit unfair to me – no one had given *me* any such warning! At any rate, thanks to his height and slender build, he actually made a very convincing girl.

One kid was dressed as the mangiest werewolf I’d ever seen, pretending to menace a kid wearing a regular cowboy outfit. “Growl! I’m a werewolf. Bullets can’t hurt me!” snarled the kid in the werewolf costume in the most unthreatening manner imaginable.

“But I’m the Lone Ranger, and I have siklver bullets!” announced the other boy, who I thought didn’t in the least resemble the noble hero from ‘those thrilling days of yesteryear’. His cowboy outfit was the wrong color, for one thing; he was blond for another. At least he was quick with his wits, if not exactly fast on the draw as he took aim at the phony werewolf. It was a cap pistol, so there was a loud “Bang! Bang!” The kid in the werewolf costume fell down and pretended to be dead. I found out later that they were best friends and had come together. The werewolf was originally going to be Tonto, but the Indian costume he’d wanted wasn’t available and so he had to settle for being Lon Chaney Jr.’s movie character instead.

I took little note of these two at the time but I was to meet them again much later on under more unusual circumstances.

Looking around, I began to think than Rusty and I (or “Tarzan and Jane” as we began to be called) didn’t look too ridiculous in this crowd after all. As more people came to the party, I noticed some of the oddest getups I’d ever seen in my life.

A few of the costumes were cheesy or poorly made. For example, there was a small kid dressed up like Superman and a senior dressed up as a pro wrestler. Other costumes were more interesting. I remember a kid my age dressed up as a pirate (complete with a fake parrot wired to his shoulder) and a girl dressed up as a princess from a bygone century; we all called her Cinderella. But though I was the only guy dressed up as a girl, only a few kids (none of whom I knew) made fun of me, and since I was older and bigger than any of them I didn’t worry that their comments would lead to any trouble. I decided that this was working out. As long as the situation didn’t get out of hand, I didn’t care what anybody said.

Julia showed up eventually. She was dressed like Robin Hood, complete with a real bow and a quiver full of fake arrows. She was so slim and boyish-looking that no one who didn’t know her had any idea that she wasn’t a boy. George and Morgan were also dressed as archers, and this helped to make Julia look even more like “just one of the boys”.

It didn’t seem fair that a girl could dress up like a boy and not face the same social embarrassment as a boy dressed as a girl; especially when that girl made a convincing-looking boy! At least no one commented openly about the fact that three black kids were playing traditionally whites-only roles. But, after all, what mainstream black roles were there back in those days except for the hostile natives from a Tarzan movie?

Al, Ron, and Gary all showed up as well. They were dressed like the Three Musketeers, complete with stick-on goatees and mustaches. Their swords were real, but blunt-tipped, dull, and as harmless as butter-knives. They almost had to surrender the swords at the door, but they were allowed to keep them after they gave their solemn word not to take the swords out of their scabbards. Even then, they were warned that they risked being ejected and possibly arrested if there were any sword-related incidents.

Even Walter and Randy made an appearance. This was surprising, because I’d thought that they’d planned to stay home. I learned later that they’d wanted to see how well I fared at the party. I think they were a little surprised themselves that I’d had the guts to actually show up in the costume they’d made me wear. They were dressed up in costumes they must’ve rented at a costume rental shop at the last minute, because the costumes fit rather poorly. One costume was a copy of an alien from Star Trek called the Salt Vampire and the other costume was Count Dracula. I don’t remember who wore which costume.

Fortunately there were enough of my friends around that I could mingle with them without – I thought – having to interact closely with people who didn’t know me and who might make fun of my costume. Unfortunately my “friends” had other ideas and started to introduce me to other kids they knew. One boy even asked me to dance! But before I could think of a way to politely refuse, “Tarzan” cut in and took me out onto the dance floor himself!

This was really, really awkward. Everybody would surely be looking at the two of us. I was a boy dressed like a 1920s gun moll… and I didn’t know how to dance! Rusty did, however, and he guided me through it. It was a slow dance – the kind where a couple hugs each other close. My eyes darted frantically around to see who was watching and my sharp ears were cocked to hear what they were saying. I was certain that I was the center of attention, and that everybody was laughing at me!

But kids were dancing all around us – and except for one kid I accidentally bumped into, apparently nobody was paying any attention to me at all! The things I heard people say over the music had nothing to do with me or my costume. I heard one ribald comment about Rusty’s Tarzan costume but nothing about mine. I did hear one person say something about Jane looking stronger than Tarzan, but that sounded more like a crack at Rusty’s expense than a dig at me.

I started to mingle more as the party continued, but Rusty (and sometimes Julia) stayed close to me the whole time in case I got into any unpleasant situations. But as I talked with people I didn’t already know, it dawned on me that many of them didn’t realize I wasn’t really a girl! As many girls were being fooled as boys, and I still find this to be all but unbelievable!

Fortunately, none of the boys asked me for my phone number or tried to arrange a date. However feminine Julia’s beauty treatments had made me look, apparently nobody felt that I was a serious contender for the Miss America crown! This was a relief; I’m unsure whatever masculine pride I have could have survived *that*!

Rusty and I stayed for the entire party. Eventually, I started to enjoy myself and – almost – to forget that I was dressed in a dress. But then around 10:00pm, when it was getting late enough to send the younger kids home, they began to award the prizes that Rusty had told me about.

Most Original Costume was won by some kid who had come dressed up as a pirate combined with Count Dracula; therefore he was a *vampirate*! The other kid in the pirate costume and whichever of my cousins was Dracula happened to be standing beside each other when this was announced, and I saw them stare at each other, look each other up and down, and then roll their eyes in such perfect sync that I couldn’t help but laugh. It looked rehearsed but I think I was the only one who saw this so I doubt that it was.

Best Home-Made Costume went to David. This wasn’t surprising, considering the skill that he had with building things. He’d put it to good use on this occasion. His costume was a filthy old man who was dressed in rags and who had his head and wrists “locked" in a set of fake lightweight stocks (which could be removed by the wearer, unlike his usual inventions). David had even made the fake hair and beard that he was wearing himself from some wigs discarded from the beauty shop that Al and Ron’s mothers owned. The rags were easy to come by, of course. The “filth” was simply soot; applied thickly enough to make David look like the resident of a dungeon without smelling offensive. I thought he was taking a risk dressed like this but no one seemed to think it was anything all that strange.

I thought that Rusty and I had a shot for Most Interesting Couple; but that prize went to the Wolfman and Lone Ranger duo, who had repeated their little “silver bullet” shtick at least a dozen times over the course of the evening. Personally, I felt that Stevie and his “prisoner” (whose hands were kept cuffed behind his back for much of the night even when Stevie served him refrehments) should have won that one!

I was afraid that I would win Scariest Costume, but that prize went to the Vampirate.

Then they announced the prize for Most Daring Costume. I hadn’t even considered myself to be in the running for that one, since by the end of the party I’d almost gotten used to looking like a flapper girl from the Roaring Twenties. I thought that Steven or his prisoner might be a shoe-in for the prize. But then my “party name” – Jane (not my *real* name, Thank God) – was announced, and I awkwardly stepped forward to claim my prize of $25. But then the emcee announced to one and all *why* I had won the prize: I was a boy! This could have been the end of my existence, but God smiled down on me. The emcee was a stranger, so he said nothing further about my identity; the only thing people learned was that “Jane” was a boy.

Many of the partygoers I’d met stared at me bug-eyed as they realized for the first time that my costume was disguising me even more effectively than they – as well as I – had believed. I even heard a few people mumble things along the lines of “WTF?!” and “That’s a GUY?!”

I started to blush deep red and decided to call it a night. Rusty caught on quickly to my change in mood and the two of us made as quick, graceful, and surreptitious an exit as we could manage under the circumstances.

“If it helps, I don’t think most people there had any idea who you were,” Rusty said to me as he drove me home. “At least, all I kept hearing was, ‘who *is* that guy, anyway?’!”

“Awwww, everybody I knew recognized me at once,” I replied, feeling a little upset. “By Monday everybody in the whole school is going to know I was in a dress!”

“But it was just a costume party, not the prom!” replied Rusty gently. “Besides, Julia and your cousins warned people in the club ahead of time so they’d be able to cover for you in case anything happened. Al and Ron swore to me just a while ago that they’d have never recognized you otherwise! I don’t think I would have either! Honest! Julia and your cousins did *that* good of a job with your makeover!”

Well, I let myself be mollified a bit and Rusty drove me home, where he helped me to wash off as much of the make-up and other beauty junk as possible. Once I was looking more like a teenage boy again, he tied me down in my bed and mollified me some more in a different way… and this time he gave a *real* Tarzan yell by the time we were finished and ready to go to sleep! For a time at least I forgot my worries about my reputation at school.

Rusty stayed with me the entire night and didn’t leave until morning. As for Randy and Walter, they didn’t return until the following afternoon; they had spent the night with friends of theirs from their soccer team who I didn’t know.

As the following school day began, I was still uncertain about the extent of my notoriety, but my fears proved to be as groundless as Rusty had said they were. I heard many conversations about the costume party and the people who were there, including mentions of a boy dressed like a girl. But not once was my name ever mentioned in connection with the party, and fortunately no one had heard any name given for the party girl other than “Jane”. That was so close to Jason that I thought somebody would catch on – but if anybody ever did, outside of my close circle of friends, I never heard about it.

My secret identity was safe. I did however pay a small price for this: even though my contacts worked out quite well at the party(and had definitely been more comfortable to me than glasses), I didn’t dare wear them at school for a long time to come. For fear I might be recognized as “Jane’ if I went without my glasses in school, I continued to wear glasses instead of contact lenses – at least at school or in some other public place. It wasn’t until my junior year in high school, and my ‘dress-up’ days were all behind me, until I dared let myself be seen without my regular glasses on.


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Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Sep 13, 2010 9:02 am

It is a wonderful story, a great experience, an excellent picture and I badly can wait to read the next episode.
:tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :big: :big: :big: :big: :big:
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Sep 19, 2010 3:05 pm

EPISODE 5 – ON THE BENCH



It’s probably clear by now that my cousins Walter and Randy enjoyed playing pranks on me that involved my being tied up and enduring various types of humiliation, if not outright torture. The didn’t do this out of mean-spiritedness or from any dislike or contempt that they had for me; they simply enjoyed their pranks and knew that they could get away with them.

The main thing that was genuinely distressing about the pranks, as far as I was concerned, was that Walter and Randy started to involve other people I didn’t know more frequently as time went by. By November of my freshman year in high school, this reached a new high – or low – when some of the members of their soccer team and Rusty’s basketball team got into the act!

My cousins had been urging me since the beginning of the school year to join their soccer team because they didn’t have anybody who was as good at being the goalie as I was. I wasn’t especially athletic – especially compared to my cousins and most of my other TUG friends – but I was blessed with quick reflexes and an unusually accurate eye. I found it easy to follow the trajectories of moving objects like soccer balls.

Over the summer I had played some practice games with Walter and Randy and a few of their soccer teammates as the goalie, and they said I was better than the kid who had been their goalie the previous year. But that kid had graduated and no one on the current team was as good at intercepting soccer balls as I was. I thought my cousins were ribbing me at first, but as time went on, they continued to insist that this was the case and I eventually had no choice but to believe them. The other boys on the team were better kickers and faster runners than I was, and most had more stamina than I did – but somehow I outshone them all when it came to interceptions at the goal.

I resisted joining the soccer team until November though; mainly because I wasn’t especially interested in sports. Playing an occasional game for fun with my cousins and friends was one thing, but the idea of having to play in an organized fashion as part of a team – especially a team consisting largely of strangers – whether I felt like it or not didn’t appeal to me. Walter and Randy offered to make it worth my while, using inducements that only somebody like me would find attractive, but I still (if a bit more reluctantly) said no dice.

It was Rusty who finally talked me into joining the soccer team. He wasn’t on that team himself, but he was on the basketball team, and occasionally I attended games (real or practice) after school hours in which he played; I cheered him on from the bleachers. I sometimes stayed after school to watch Walter and Randy at soccer practice as well, but most of their practice sessions were at a field away from the school. Rusty’s games, on the other hand, were at the school gymnasium, so I could attend his games without needing to arrange a ride with someone. I also enjoyed Rusty’s practice sessions more because there was no pressure to join the basketball team; I was unambiguously rotten at *that* game.

But one day, while Rusty was driving me home after basketball, he told me that I should join the soccer team. I was surprised by this, because he’d never showed any interest in the soccer team before. I guessed out loud that Walter and Randy had asked Rusty to talk to me about joining, and he readily admitted it, but he also said he felt they were right. He’d seen me play goalie a couple of times and thought I was good at it. And if nothing else, he added, if I joined the team, I’d be able to watch the other boys’ bared legs whenever they sat down.

I flushed with embarrassment as Rusty said this, but he had a point; I did enjoy looking at boys’ legs – especially when the boys wore shorts and were in sitting or kneeling positions. I’d get lots more opportunities to do this as a member of the soccer team! I’d thought that my interest in legs was a secret, but Rusty said my cousins knew all about it; they’d seen me watching other boys many times. However, they felt I’d be more comfortable about the issue if Rusty brought it up rather than them. They were probably right.

Rusty and I had a quick but pleasant tie-up session in my room. He reminded me before he left for home that he’d be picking me up at six o’clock the following evening to take me to the school basketball game so that I could watch him play. I acknowledged this and said good-night as I escorted him to his car. The good-night included a kiss which my aunt just missed witnessing as she drove into the driveway.

That night, Walter and Randy were out visiting David (who was also on the soccer team), so I spent the evening alone with my aunt. This was a little annoying, as I’d wanted to discuss the idea of joining the soccer team with them. I needn’t have worried, however. They came home late that night after I’d gone to bed, with David tagging along. The three of them crept into my room as I slept, jumped on me, and tied me up before I could wake up completely and realize what was happening. I yelled in surprise, without thinking about Aunt Yvette, but there was no danger of disturbing her; my aunt was deaf as a post and a sound sleeper as well. I could have been murdered in my bed and she’d never have known it until the next day – whenever she checked on me.

Anyway I wasn’t murdered in my bed… just put upon (and sat upon, of course) since the three of them decided it’d be fun to screw around with me as I lay there helpless to defend myself. Since one of the first things they did was gag me, it was a while before I got a chance to ask about joining the soccer team. As it turned out, they wanted very much to discuss this themselves but thought I’d need some softening up first to get me into a relaxed mood. I guess they were right; a TUG session always did help that way.

The three of them explained that the soccer season was about over until spring, but there was still at least one more major game to go and my school had a shot of winning the state title (or whatever they called it) for the year. The current goalie would be unable to finish the season for some reason, but the team would be allowed to arrange a substitute for him as long as the substitute was a student at the school (even if he had not been part of the soccer team up to then). My cousins felt that having me as a goalie would boost the team’s chances at the title.

In short, the team needed me. At least, this was the story that they fed me at the time. They explained the situation in a casual and offhanded manner. As though I were a fish, they played with me before they reeled me in.

And there were the boys’ legs to consider as well. So after they played with me in a different way for a while, I swallowed the bait hook, line, and sinker, and agreed to be their goalie. They told me to meet them after cases at the soccer field the next day. I agreed between moans as we… uhh… climaxed the conversation.

The next afternoon, I went into the boys’ locker room and changed into a soccer outfit that Walter had given me earlier in the day. I was all alone in the locker room, which surprised me a bit; where was everybody else? Granted, I was a few minutes late because Julia and I had been talking, but I’d expected to find stragglers changing into their own outfits. However, there was no one at all. Not wanting to keep everybody else waiting, I shrugged this off, changed clothes as quickly as I could, and hurried out to the field.

I saw Walter, Randy, David, Sho (whom I hadn’t known was on the soccer team until then) and a couple of other boys I didn’t know well waiting for me, and that was about it. The coach was nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the other members of the soccer team. The other boys were in in their soccer uniforms, at least. There were also about a dozen soccer balls laid in a nice neat row about sixty feet from the goal net.

“Where’s everybody else?” I asked in puzzlement when I got within earshot of the others.

“This is it,” replied Walter. “This isn’t really an official practice time. We’re just doing this on our own time to initiate you into the team.”

The word “initiate” set alarm bells ringing in my head, but before I could react, the two boys I didn’t know were on either side of me and locking my arms in theirs in a grip too strong to readily escape from. Even if I’d thought to make a run for it, they’d most likely have tackled me from behind before I got halfway back to the Locker Room – and what good it would have done for me to get there anyway, I couldn’t say.

In any case, I was hustled back to where the others were standing in front of the goal net, and together we went over to the net itself. I was tied spread-eagled to the goal frame with my hands and feet stretched as wide apart as they could be. “WTF is going on?” I asked with alarm. “What are you going to do to *murrphhh*?!?” I was gagged at this point.

“We want to see how well you can dodge balls as well as catch them!” replied Randy with a smirk. Walter removed my glasses – I think as much to prevent them from being damaged as for the unpleasant psychological effect that this produced. The boys stepped back to where the soccer balls were lined up, and I knew at once what was about to happen. Six strong-legged boys with two soccer balls apiece aiming at one helplessly tied victim; I felt like I was lined up before a firing squad!

Each boy kicked a soccer ball one right after the next as hard and as accurately as he could. A few balls missed me completely (though none by much), but most did not. One whacked me in the head (it was a good thing that Walter had taken my glasses); three hit me in the belly, one struck just below my belly but above my groin, one hit in the chest area, and one hit on each thigh.

I had the unnerving conviction that the balls that missed had been aimed straight at my groin, because all four of them hit the net between my legs – and not very far down, either!

Laughing merrily, the boys gathered up the soccer balls and lined them up again for a second volley. I groaned in my gag, wondering how long they were going to keep this up. None of the soccer balls had hurt very much when they hit me (though a couple had all but knocked the breath out of me for a moment), but if they kept this up… and if some of those balls hit *my* balls…

The second volley was more successful; only two of the soccer balls missed. One passed below my groin by what seemed like only a hair’s breadth while the other just missed the side of my head. Of the ten that hit me, three hit my belly uncomfortably close to the central equipment without actually striking it; the rest hit my thighs, belly and chest. None hit my head, however.

Although my cousins and the other boys were apparently kicking those soccer balls as hard as they could, the impacts were not hurting me anywhere near as much as I’d imagined they would. As long as none struck me directly in the nose or my groin, the hits were more annoying than really painful.

And as volley after volley struck me, it also struck me that they were actually targeting the ball to *miss* these areas, but by as small a margin as possible. I realized this by the end of the fifth volley, when one hall hit me in the chin. “Watch it! That was *too* close!” I heard Walter warn whoever it was – I couldn’t tell who he was yelling at though because I couldn’t see well enough without my glasses on. I think it was one of the boys I didn’t know.

By then I also noticed that whereas my lower belly and upper chest had gotten a lot of hits and were getting more than a bit sore, my midriff had gotten relatively few hits and did not ache anywhere near as much.

After about ten volleys, one soccer ball hit my groin a glancing blow and I began to thrash around wildly. At this point, the others apparently decided that I had been tenderized enough and they stopped kicking balls at me. Walter and Randy came over, put my glasses on me, and untied my hands and feet from the goal frame. But rather than let me go free, they immediately tied my hands behind my back. They left my feet free, but they also left me gagged. I patiently stood and watched as they gathered around me. I wondered what new game they were going to play with me.

“Okay, Jase, here’s what we’re going to do,” explained Walter. “We’re each going to kick two soccer balls at the goal. You’re the goalie. You have to keep each ball we kick from hitting the net. If you catch all twelve without the use of your hands, we let you go and your initiation is over. For each one you miss, you get a one-hour penalty period during which we get to torture you any way we like short of really hurting you or – ummm, doing anything funny to you, if you catch my drift!”

At this point, I was starting to get suspicious. Was this “initiation” really something they did to all the new members of the soccer team, or were they just having yet another humiliating (and rather painful) prank at my expense?

I had my doubts, but there was little I could do but play along; either that or give up and let them have their way with me for another twelve hours. But no self-respecting high-school boy just lies down and gives up without a fight – not even a masochist like me – so I did my honest best to catch all the soccer balls before they scored a goal.

Considering that my hands were tied securely behind my back (and that I therefore didn’t dare dive after a ball to intercept it), I don’t think I did too badly. Since I was still free to run and kick, I managed to stop six balls out of the twelve.

I had spared myself six hours of whatever torment my cousins had in mind for me, but I’d still need to endure the remaining six hours. I could only hope that the torture would be the extra-fun kind. If it were only Walter, Randy, Sho, and David present, this would be quite likely, but with the two new boys around, everything was probably going to be done by the book.

My six captors escorted me back inside the school building and into the locker room; my legs were free, but my hands were still tied behind my back. By now it was about four o’clock and the building was completely deserted. However, in those more trusting days and in that rural region, it had been left unlocked for the soccer team’s use. Walter had promised to lock up the building when the team members were finished with practice. Trusting students to this extent is something I imagine has long since ceased to be possible in any school anywhere, but back then it wasn’t unheard of.

In any case, after we reached the locker room, I was untied and told to lay down on one of the wooden benches that stretched between the two sets of lockers that lined two of the walls. I did so without argument while Walter and Randy knelt down beside me. Walter handcuffed my wrists underneath the bench while Randy cuffed my ankles. I couldn’t help but wonder if they planned to sit on top of me right in front of those other two boys; I couldn’t think of any other reason why they would be doing such a thing to me then and there.

The first thing they did, though, was remove my glasses, place them in the locker where the rest of my stuff was, and blindfold me. Then, from the sounds I heard, they all got undressed – and then they hit the showers! I could hear all six of them conversing in the shower room but could make out too few of the words over the sound of the water to understand what they were saying. There was a lot of laughing, though – especially Randy’s braying laughter, and that was *never* good news for *me*!

Eventually, the showers were turned off, lockers were opened, and I heard the other boys puttering around for a bit as they got dressed – but they were apparently sitting on the other two benches in the locker room instead of on top of me. Then, at one point, I felt somebody already wearing pants sit on my belly and – from the motions I felt and the sounds I heard – he was putting on his sneakers. He spoke at one point, so I found out it was David, but he was simply speaking to one of the others and not to me. I could hear one or two of the others laughing, but this didn’t seem to be related to what David had said. After a minute or so, he got off of me.

Then somebody else put their sneakered foot on my chest and began tying their laces. I didn’t find out who it was until later (it turned out to be Randy). After that, I felt somebody sit on my lower legs for a while, and it sounded as though he was putting on his shirt. He spoke briefly and so I learned that it was Walter. There was another bit of laughter. And then I felt someone sit on my thighs as they put on their own shirt and laced their sneakers. I heard Sho say, from the same direction, “Naw, he doesn’t mind!” and so I knew that’s who was sitting on my thighs.

So now each of the four boys (if you count Randy placing his foot on me) I already knew had sat upon me – however briefly – in front of the other two. I guessed that they were trying to gauge the other boys’ reaction to this. I never heard any of the boys I knew come right out and invite the new boys to sit on me or otherwise torment me, though. I think they were trying to lead by example. But if so, this was apparently a failure because neither of the other two boys so much as touched me – even though they seemed to find what the others did amusing enough.

I simply lay there without protest and awaited further developments. I didn’t so much as make a peep through my gag. This might have been the wrong thing to do (or not do). If I’d shown a stronger (however feigned) negative reaction to what the others were doing, the other two might have joined in. But my utter passivity may have led them to believe that tormenting me would be no fun, because both of them seemed to be in a hurry to simply leave.

But, as it turned out, having them stay wasn’t really the plan after all.

Suddenly I heard the distinctive sound of tape being torn off a roll, and I felt something being stuck onto my forehead. It felt like a card of some kind but I couldn’t tell for sure what it was while I was blindfolded.

After that, Walter and the others grabbed their stuff, wished me a good evening, promised to come back for me in six hours… and then everybody walked out and left me there!

At first I thought they were spoofing me and that they’d just pretended to leave. Even so, I started struggling and protesting into my gag and all the rest of the futile things that tied up and helpless people do in these kinds of situations. But as minutes passed and my keen ears detected not a hint of noise anywhere around me except what I made myself and the distant sounds of an empty building (the ventilation system, mostly) I began to realize that I really was all alone inside the boy’s locker room! Tied, gagged, blindfolded, and completely helpless to do anything about it!

I wasn’t seriously worried, though. Although they enjoyed pranking me, I knew that neither Walter nor Randy felt malicious towards me. At the worst, I’d be kept here six hours and not a minute longer; my cousins were particular about keeping their word about this kind of thing. Though lying on this hard bench wasn’t very comfortable, I reckoned I could take it for six hours easily enough. At least I felt no need to relieve myself; they’d offered me the chance to do this before they secured me, but I hadn’t needed it.

But I began to wonder. Surely the others had more planned for me than to keep me in a state of boredom for six hours. They could have left me tied up out in the woods if that’s all they wanted to do. Why the locker room? In addition, it was against our safety rules to leave me tied up and unsupervised like this for more than a half hour or so at a time. So at least one of them must be planning to come back sooner or later to make life more interesting for me!

Something else was pricking at the back of my mind. Knowing Walter and Randy, there *had* to be more to this than leaving me alone tied up inside the locker room for several hours. Why did they go out of their way to trap me here when they could have taken me *anywhere*? What was so special about…?

Then it hit me! The basketball game! Rusty had been planning to pick me up at six o’clock to take me to the basketball game! Which started at seven! At *this* school! Which meant that long before Randy and Walter came back for me, I was going to be seen by *every* member of the basketball team when they came into the locker room to change into their basketball uniforms for the game that night!

Moments after this realization hit me, I suddenly heard several boys’ voices from down the hall outside the locker room, coming rapidly closer. One of them was slowly dribbling a basketball. I seethed in frustration. I had no doubt the others had known there was a basketball game tonight and that I’d be a helpless spectacle in front of the entire team! Granted, most of the team probably didn’t know me from Adam as it was a large school, I was only a freshman, and there were no freshmen on the basketball team. Even so, I knew that I was in for an exceptionally humiliating experience.

I silently vowed I’d kill Walter, Randy, and David with my bare hands the first chance I got as I heard the locker room door open and several members of the team strode noisily in, conversing loudly and laughing among themselves. I knew I’d been spotted when I heard a light click on (being blindfolded, I hadn’t known I’d been in the dark) and everything went deathly silent for a moment.

“What… the… fuck?” I heard an unfamiliar voice ask incredulously. “Who left *this* poor bastard in here?”

“Must be on the soccer team!” said a second boy. “But I don’t recognize him!”

“I wouldn’t recognize *you* if your face was all covered like *his* is!” said a third boy, whose voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it at the time. “Looks like he’s only a freshman anyway. Probably getting hazed or something.”

“He looks like he’s all gift-wrapped for someone,” pointed out the first boy. I was puzzled by this; what was he walking about?

“Look, there’s a card under the bow,” said another one.

“What’s it say?” asked the first boy I’d heard.

An unseen hand reached out at that point and plucked whatever had been stuck onto my forehead off. It smarted when he did that because it had been taped on quite securely. My gagged *mmph* of outrage was ignored.

“It says, ‘For Rusty! Take him home and take good care of him!’ Aww... How sweet!”

“Think Rusty would mind if we have some fun with his present?” asked the boy who sounded familiar. I was convinced I knew the owner of that voice from somewhere; but, even if this was true, he seemed not to recognize me with the gag and blindfold covering my face.

I didn’t like where this was going. It sounded like my cousins’ little joke was going to get me beaten up while I was completely helpless to defend myself.

“He’s all handcuffed,” said one of the boys.

“Look, the keys are on the bench between his knees.”

“We can let him go later. Let’s have some fun with him first!” said the familiar voice, and the next thing I knew someone was straddling my chest and lightly slapping my face.

“Geez, Sho… isn’t that poor freshman going through enough already?” asked one of the other boys. “Hell, you’re only a freshman yourself!”

Sho?! Damn, set up again and here was Sho pretending he didn’t know a damn thing about it, just like the first time. And with my gag firmly in place, I couldn’t even vent my outrage against this prank!

“Come on, guys! This is a blast!” Sho urged his team-mates as they apparently stood all around us. “We’ve got plenty of time before the game starts. Let’s have some fun with this kid before we toss him out of here!”

“What if the coach catches us tormenting this kid?” asked one of the others uncertainly.

“He won’t come in here before the game!” replied Sho. “He’s too busy playing kissy-face with the girls’ basketball coach!”

“Well, okay,” agreed one boy reluctantly, and the next thing I knew I felt someone sit on my belly. Then two more of them sat on my legs. Sho continued slapping my face – not hard enough to hurt but just to add to my already extreme embarrassment.

They kept teasing me as several more boys came in, and I heard sounds indicating that some of them were changing into their basketball uniforms. Finally, Sho had a brilliant “idea” (which he’d probably planned well in advance). He unlocked my handcuffs, pulled my hands in front of me, and re-cuffed them in front. Then he freed my legs from the bench and re-cuffed those. Then I was literally dragged across the locker room and over a small threshold, and I knew at once I was in the large shower stall.

After that, I was picked up, set on someone’s shoulders, and hoisted up. I heard what sounded like somebody else being hoisted on another boy’s shoulders as well. Unseen hands grabbed my wrists and forced them upward, and I was carried forward. Then my ride suddenly bent down and scooted out from under me – leaving my toes just barely touching the floor and leaving my wrists trapped high over my head by something I could not see. I realized it was a shower head just as one of them turned the shower on – drenching me in rather cold water while I was still clad in my now rather gamey soccer uniform!

My unseen tormentors gathered around me and laughed at my discomfort as I struggled vainly to free my hands from the shower head, but it was too high. I tried to jump but the floor was too slippery and only wound up hanging by my wrists until I could regain my footing. I would need to be lifted back up and out of there by the others before I could possibly get free. But the other boys seemed to be in no hurry to do this. They weren’t hurting me, but their mocking laughter was torment enough.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” I heard Rusty’s familiar voice suddenly shout in obvious anger. “What are you bastards doing?! Get him out of there! NOW!!!”

Several of my unseen tormentors obeyed and I was soon set solidly down on my feet again – soaking wet and utterly humiliated but otherwise unhurt.

“All of you get into your uniforms and get the fuck out of here!” Rusty snarled at them. “Sho! What are *you* doing here? You’re not on the basketball team! Take a hike!”

Judging from the sounds I was hearing, the others were hastening to obey. I suppose it wasn’t because Rusty was particularly imposing as much as because he was the captain of the basketball team.

I felt hands steady my badly-shaking wrists as the handcuffs were unlocked. I removed my blindfold and gag myself as Rusty knelt down to free my feet. “What in *Hell* were those idiots thinking when they left you here like this?” Rusty growled. I had never heard him sound so angry since I’d met him! “Didn’t they know I was coming to pick you up and so I wouldn’t be the first one here tonight?”

“I don’t know,” I replied rather mildly. Now that the hazing was over, I was feeling better and willing to let bygones be bygones. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and go home.

“Walter and Randy went too far with their pranks this time,” complained Rusty. “Why the Hell do you put up with them?”

I shrugged my shoulders and said nothing; I just flashed a weak smile.

“I’d give you a ride home if there was time,” said Rusty. “But I can’t. I’ve got just enough time to change into my outfit and get out there, or the coach will come in here looking for me. Think you’ll be okay if you just shower and change and watch the game like we’d planned?”

“Sure,” I said. So I undressed for my shower while Rusty changed into his outfit. I wished we’d had time for a little fun first, and I’m sure he felt the same way, but this wasn’t the time or the place for it. So I hit the showers as he finished getting into his uniform and headed out the door. I took a leisurely shower, trying to sort out my conflicted feelings about my recent experiences.

By the time I finished the shower and changed into my street clothes, the game was already in progress. I took a seat in the center of the bleachers in as inconspicuous a spot as possible, not wanting to be recognized by anybody on the basketball team. Sho (who sat in the audience well away from me, perhaps afraid I might want revenge) and Rusty (out on the court) glanced at me enough times that I knew they knew where I was, but no one else on the team seemed to notice me – so I was reasonably sure the story of my Locker Room Lockup wouldn’t spread around the school with my name attached to it. And it wasn’t.

I didn’t really pay attention to the game itself; I was lost in thought – wondering what else the boys in the basketball team might have done to me had Rusty not intervened. It wasn’t exactly a feeling of trauma I was experiencing. It was more like – wistfulness.

After the game was over, I hung around the bleachers while the audience dispersed and went home and the basketball team showered, changed clothes, and also went home. I went out of my way to avoid being seen by team members; I didn’t want to be recognized. I wasn’t feeling *that* wistful. When I was sure everybody else on the team had left, I entered the locker room to find Rusty. To my surprise, Sho was there too – and he was now secured to the bench the same way that I had been, with Rusty sitting on top of him. Rusty was still wearing his basketball outfit, while Sho wore regular pants but had his shirt off.

I found myself wishing it was me back down there again instead of Sho. However, I was sure Rusty’s feelings toward Sho were angrier than they would have been toward me.

“Sho and I have been having a pleasant conversation,” Rusty told me as he proceeded to gag Sho with one of his own tube socks. “The others never intended for you to be on the soccer team. It was all a trick – on me as well as on you. And they even got me to help them convince you to join their team. I am going to have to have a *talk* with your cousins and David about this. Come on, let’s go!”

Rusty got up and went to leave the locker room – leaving Sho exactly as he was.

“Ummm… aren’t we going to free Sho first?” I asked. “We can’t leave him here all night, even though the rules don’t apply to non-members...”

“We aren’t leaving him all night. Coach will be here to make sure everything’s put away before he goes home. He’ll find Sho – in about an hour – and let him go. I left the keys to the cuffs where he can find them.”

“But Sho isn’t a club member!” I reminded him. “What if he talks about…?”

“He knows better than that. He wants to join the club himself, eventually. He’ll never get to join if he rats any of us out like that. So he’ll tell Coach he lost a bet or was hazed by the team or something and then he’ll drop it. Coach will buy it; it’s happened before!”

This is exactly what Sho did when the coach finally found him and set him free… only he had to wait closer to two hours rather than one for some reason I never learned. The coach was probably busier than expected with his counterpart on the girls’ basketball team.

Rusty was thirsting for revenge against my cousins for setting us both up for this embarrassing episode, but on the drive home I persuaded him to drop the matter. After all, I had to live with those two. Nobody had gotten hurt. Nobody on his team knew who I was (and upper-classmen generally paid no attention to freshmen anyway). And Rusty hadn’t been dragged too far into it; the other team members all figured it was just a prank on me having nothing to do with Rusty personally. It was doubtful any of them suspected our special relationship except for Sho, and he’d never tell anyone. So Rusty agreed to drop it.

I never brought the episode up with my cousins myself in a recriminatory manner. They didn’t rub my face in it afterward, either; this wasn’t their style. They’d had their fun, and so had I in my fashion, and that was that. I never held a grudge about it, and they knew from the start that I wouldn’t. I wasn’t even upset about not getting onto the soccer team, as I’d mostly been interested in pleasing Walter, Randy, and David. Though they *did* continue to say I was a better goalie than the one they had on their team.

But there would be a time some months later when Walter and Randy played an even more outrageous (if less public) prank on Rusty and me, and then All Hell Broke Loose! But that’s a story for another time.

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Last edited by Jason Toddman on Tue Sep 28, 2010 12:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Sep 20, 2010 7:05 am

That story continues very entertaining. Thanks!

:tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tickle: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :tied: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :gag: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :bound: :big: :big: :big: :big: :big:
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of My Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Year

Postby Jason Toddman » Mon Sep 27, 2010 10:39 am

Thanks Sarumansauron, but... Gosh! Doesn't anyone else have any feedback for me? You're the only one who's said anything about this since Epsiode 2!

EPISODE 6 – ‘SHO’ ME WHAT YOU’VE GOT!



Except for the Thanksgiving and Christmas weekends, I stayed with my aunt and cousins for the entire winter. I visited my friends as often as possible – sometimes for tie-ups and sometimes for other activities. On the two major holidays, I visited my mom at my old house – but my aunt and cousins came along, so I was literally tied up with things to do. My cousins stayed in my brother’s old room (he was now in the Navy and didn’t need it) but they spent some time with me during the nights. We played our favorite games several times while our hearing-impaired mothers were downstairs and fast asleep.

On New Year’s Eve, however, my cousins were going to spend the evening with David and some of our other friends. I wanted to go as well. But my aunt told me she was visiting my mom for New Year’s. Would I like to visit my mother again with her? She mentioned that this might be the last chance to do so for months. Of course I couldn’t say no. I loved my Mom and wanted to be with her and make her happy – but I wasn’t looking forward to spending the weekend with nobody else for company and spending my nights alone for perhaps the first time in my entire life. Even before I lived with my cousins, my brother was around whether we played TuGs or not – but now there wouldn’t even be my brother to talk to (or argue with). I had no friends of my own worthy of the name living in that area to hang around with, either.

I made a silent wish that my mother would be able to hurry up and sell that damned house so that she could move into a new one near my aunt. Then I tried to make the best of the situation. I asked some of my friends if they’d come along and keep me company. Unfortunately, everybody either had plans of their own (many were also visiting David, whose family was apparently having a big New Year’s celebration) or they couldn’t come because their families had made plans for them and they couldn’t get out of their commitments any more than I could get out of mine.

My cousins proved that they cared about me, though. Though they couldn’t come along with me themselves, they talked Sho into going. Sho and I were friendly enough despite that scary fake kidnapping and the soccer team hoax later on, and we occasionally talked to each other at school– but neither of us had visited the other at home since the kidnapping incident. This seemed like a good way to get better acquainted. Sho’s own family was having a group of friends over, and both his younger and older brother would be spending the weekend with (separate) friends’ families – leaving Sho with nobody near his age to spend the weekend with. So he was glad for the chance to go with me. If he stayed home, he said, he’d probably end up as an unpaid serving boy at his parents’ party.

I didn’t learn about the other incentive my cousins offered him behind my back until Sho and I were already on the way to my old house. Then, when we were in the back seat of my aunt’s car talking with each other about school, he suddenly handed me a note he was carrying in his pocket. “Walter told me to give this to you when we were well on our way,” he told me. “I don’t know what it says. He made me promise not to look.”

Suspicious, I folded open the note and read it:

“Jason: We promised Sho that in exchange for his company, he could tie you up and have fun with you any way he likes all night. We told him you’d like it if he sat on you a lot too. I’m sure you don’t mind. He bragged that he can torture you so hard that you’ll cry like a girl! We bet him each $25 that he’s wrong! Don’t let us down and we’ll split the money we win with you! Show him what you’re made of, big guy!

Walter

We’re counting on you, cuz!

Randy”

I suppose most normal boys would have been disappointed that someone came to keep them company only after being offered an incentive. In my case, I was ecstatic. I’d been cudgeling my brains figuring out how to ask Sho if he’d be willing to tie me up and play torture games with me overnight just like he did that weekend we’d met, and here my thoughtful cousins had already paved the way!

Or had they?

I suddenly remembered my cousins’ fondness for pranks that put me into embarrassing situations. What if I asked Sho about tying me up and he didn’t know anything about it? For some reason the idea that the plan as outlined might be considered embarrassing in itself didn’t occur to me at the time. So I decided to test the waters with some causal conversation. Waiting until my aunt was too diverted with her driving to pay any attention to our conversation, I leaned close to Sho and asked, sotto voce: “So what do you feel like doing tonight while we ring in the new year?”

“You mean after I tie you up?” he replied with an equally low voice and a deliciously wicked smile. “You’ll just have to wait and see. Good thing your mom and aunt can’t hear too good, because you’ll be screaming for mercy before I’m done with you!”

Well, that sounded good enough to me! I could hardly wait until that night!

Then I had a sudden panic attack! I’d forgotten to bring any rope, handcuffs, or anything else suitable for tie-ups!!!

Seeing the sudden woebegone look on my face and evidently misunderstanding it, Sho whispered back, “Don’t worry, I won’t be TOO rough on you – once you beg me for mercy! And promise to become my slave! I always treat my slaves kindly.”

“It’s no good!” I moaned quietly, too upset to pick up on the hint he was dropping. “I forgot to bring anything for you to tie me up with!”

“Don’t worry about *that*,” Sho assured me without losing his smile. “I brought plenty. You’re going to be wishing *I’d* forgotten to bring along the rope when you see what else I brought with me!”

I doubted that, and curiosity got the better of me and I pleaded with him to tell me more, but he just smiled and said I’d find out at the proper time. After that, I was as restless and as fidgety as a small child on Christmas Eve waiting for Santa Claus to show up and bring him his presents. I wanted my stocking full of ropes and cuffs! I wanted it *now*! But at least Sho entertained me by telling me about himself and his family, including his hobbies and interests. I learned more about Sho during the ride to my mother’s house than I had in the four months I’d known him up to then.

The thing that interested me the most was Sho’s intense interest in bondage games. He told me that not only did he and his brothers tie each other up and invent unusual torments, but they also made slaves out of one another. They’d have some simple game or contest that even Jirou had a decent chance of winning against his older siblings, and the winner would “own” the other two for an agreed-upon period of time. He could keep the others tied up any way he pleased for that time period and could also command them to do anything at all. Disobedience meant punishment, extra time as a slave, or both – usually both.

Sho’s older brother Ichiro had introduced this form of play to him when Sho was about 6, and they’d brought Jirou into it when he was 5 (and had caught the other two at it). Sho said that Ichiro had gotten the idea from an older relative of theirs in Japan, who had also taught him knot-tying skills at an early age. Naturally, Ichiro passed the knot-tying techniques he’d learned on to his younger brothers.

Occasionally, they’d tried to bring other boys into their games, but all attempts had failed until they’d met Walter and Randy a couple of years before. With my cousins, they essentially found their soul-mates in bondage games. Why they’d never joined Walter and Randy in the club my cousins subsequently formed with David and the others, though, Sho never explained. It might have been shyness; until I came along, they’d never met other boys as willing to be tied up and “owned” for any period of time as those two. And even Walter and Randy let things go only so far between them and Sho, Ichiro, and Jirou (especially Jirou).

When Sho and Ichiro re-connected with Walter and Randy at the start of the school year, they were hoping to resume bondage games. By this time, though, my cousins were more interested in dishing it out than taking it themselves, especially when it came to the more intensive type of bondage games that Ichiro and Sho favored. However, the idea of letting Ichiro and Sho play with *me* amused my cousins and so my “kidnapping" was arranged.

Jirou had gotten into the act by accident. He was as much into bondage as his older siblings were, but they hadn’t let him in on the joke at first; not because he’d be unwilling but because he was a terrible actor. In fact, though he’d been surprised when he saw me tied to the bondage board, he’d been pleased at the chance to sit on me and to help torment me and keep me prisoner – at least for a while. He’d expressed concern about my fate later on, but he’d been as worried that the three brothers would be caught by their parents as he was about my feelings regarding the matter. Jirou was a decent kid in general – but having someone older than he was as a prisoner had definitely appealed to him. He was also so used to being a captive or captor of his brothers that he saw nothing unusual about it.

I decided that Jirou and I had a lot in common.

We reached my familiar old house, but it no longer felt like home to me. Having Sho with me was one of only two reasons why I was at all happy to be back even for a short visit; my mother, of course, was the other reason. She was pleased to see me, and she wanted to catch up on things, but as our personal discussion made Sho noticeably uncomfortable, she soon let us get settled upstairs – which we had all to ourselves.

This house was smaller and less fancy than my aunt’s house; it had only two bedrooms and an attic to one side (my aunt’s house had four rooms upstairs, but the other two rooms were used mainly for storage). Sho was to have my brother’s old bedroom – officially, that is. But other than to put his stuff in there, he spent no time in that room for the entire first day.

We had little privacy together until nearly bedtime, since Mom wanted to talk about various things at odd moments and of course we all had dinner together and watched TV in the living room for a while. The time until Sho and I could have some privacy together seemed to pass at a crawl, but finally my aunt and mother were ready for bed. Fortunately for our plans, my aunt was willing to settle for sleeping on the couch downstairs rather than use my brother’s room upstairs. It’s likely she would have slept on the couch even if Sho hadn’t come along; my brother’s room and mine were separated by a mere doorway with no door – giving the two rooms essentially no privacy. This was fine for teenage boys, but it wouldn’t have worked for a middle-aged woman, so she took the couch. This, of course, was fine with us too. If she’d spent the night upstairs with us, the nights of fun that we ended up having would never have been possible.

Mom and my aunt turned in at around nine o’clock; their usual bedtime. They had no more interest in staying up to ring in the New Year than Sho and I had in staying downstairs to watch TV. As soon as they were done bidding us goodnight we were enthusiastically racing up the stairs to begin our night together.

My bedroom furniture was still in the old house, since I hadn’t needed it (nor was there room for it) at my aunt’s house. My bed was the type with brass railings – much like Randy’s bed except it was twin sized and the railings weren’t quite as thick or as sturdy as his. But it was sturdy enough should the need arise to tie me up to them – although Sho didn’t do this for quite a while. He had different ideas in mind.

First we stripped to our boxers. Then Sho brought out his box of bondage supplies. The first thing he pulled out was not rope but a set of manacles. The cuffs were like belts less than a foot long and made of quarter-inch-thick leather. The buckles were much thicker than normal belt buckles; the holes were all reinforced with metal rings, and each came with a small padlock to secure them in place on my wrists.

The chains were detachable (padlocked in place onto metal straps that encircled each wrist shackle), and there were several different kinds of various lengths and thicknesses. Sho selected one that was made of a single thick chain link a fraction over two inches long, had me watch as he carefully assembled it, and then locked the things around my wrists behind my back.

Next, he pulled out a similar set of manacles for my feet, separated by a length of chain only a few inches long. Once these were locked on me, Sho got what looked like a thick, black rubber ski mask (sort of like a swim cap but much larger) and placed it on my head. It had loops along its bottom edge, and there was a hole for my eyes, nose and mouth. Once the stretchy thing was fully in place and tucked under my chin it was a tight fit, although not so much that I couldn’t wear my glasses (I’d brought those to wear instead of contacts because I wasn’t sure wearing contacts while blindfolded would be a good idea).

Then Sho took another, longer but narrower belt-like device, placed it around my neck through those loops lining the bottom edge of the rubber mask, and padlocked it in place…effectively locking the mask in place as well. Then, to complete my head-dressing for the moment, he fitted a ball gag on me – the kind that padlocks on in back.

Sho got out four more leather belts that were wider and thicker than the others so far. Two of them were fitted around my biceps and the other two were secured just above my knees. I wasn’t quite sure what those were for yet, but I noticed that each had a thick metal ring (much like a miniature door knocker) dangling from the front of each one… and something told me I was in for a very restrictive tie-up that night. Before I found out exactly *how* restrictive, Sho dug out two more items; the first knee pads I ever saw in person (they weren’t at all common back in those days). As soon as he pulled those out and began to fit them on my knees I had a good idea what was in store for me.

Sho made me kneel in front of him, got behind me, and used a small length of rope to tie my wrist and ankle shackles together in a hogtie. Then he told me to lean forward and downward as far down in a groveling position as I could. I bent forward as far as I could comfortably, but this was insufficient for him. The next thing I knew, he climbed onto my shoulders and made me bend further forward and downward with his body weight. When he was satisfied that I was as far forward as I could go without breaking my spine, He took some rope and tied the ring of one arm bracelet to the ring on the thigh bracelet on the same side – looping the rope through each ring several times and tying it off to prevent me from rising again. He then tied the rings on my other side the same way. I was bent so far forward that the arm rings were mere inches away from their adjacent thigh rings, and I was trapped in that position until he released Me.

Moreover, this made the rope that hogtied me bite deep between my ass cheeks; were it not for the boxers providing me with *some* protection, I’d be a lot worse off. Luckily for me, if this thought occurred to Sho at all, he didn’t use it against me.

Then, to top it all off, Sho blindfolded me – glasses and all – with a small towel. He then positioned me so that I faced him as he sat on the edge of my bed, and I felt him rest his bare feet upon my bare back. This got amazingly uncomfortable in a very short period of time, but Sho showed me no mercy at all. However, I was determined not to whine for mercy through my gag – though I couldn’t help but groan a bit every so often.

Sho finally took his feet off of me, and a moment later I felt him remove my ball gag. “You are now my slave for the night,” he told me in a mischievous tone. “If you want me to take it easy on you, kiss my feet. Otherwise, I’ll have to teach you some discipline!”

Naturally, I decided to be stubborn, and I refused to kiss his feet. “Your choice,” he told me without a trace of disappointment but with noticeable glee in his voice as he secured the ball-gag back on me. Then I felt him sit upon the middle of my back. He shifted his weight… and suddenly ten fingers were tickling my helplessly bound feet! I writhed and squirmed, but of course resistance was futile. I managed not to scream into my gag, but I couldn’t help making some muffled cries of outrage as the tickle torture continued. I don’t know how long it went on, but it seemed like forever.

Suddenly the tickling stopped, and the next thing I knew Sho was spanking me as hard as he could. This sudden change in tactics took me by surprise and I shuddered and yelled into my gag. This didn’t deter him at all; if anything, he only swatted my backside harder and faster. About the only good thing about being trapped in this helpless and utterly vulnerable position was that it hid the reaction I was having to all this; I was getting a hard-on like you wouldn’t believe pressing and poking into my lower belly!

“You think this is rough?” Sho asked me in a teasing voice. “You should see the set-up we have in our barn. We’ve even rigged up something like a tiny jail cell in there, with eyebolts handy for restraining one another in all sorts of ways! Someday when it’s warm out again I’m going to have you stay over for a whole weekend so that my brothers and I can have some *real* fun with you! Would you like that?”

The tent in my boxers would have been sufficient answer for him could he have seen it. As it was, I had to nod my head in the affirmative. I *was* looking forward to a weekend with the three brothers in their barn! Sho seemed satisfied with that, because he got off my back, sat on the edge of my bed again, and removed my blindfold.

“You okay so far?” he asked me with unexpected gentleness – being merely a concerned friend for the moment and wanting to make sure I wasn’t under too much stress. I nodded my head to let him know I was okay, and then we were master and slave again.

“All right, slave,” Sho said in a noticeably rougher tone of voice. “Will you obey your master and kiss my feet now, or will I have to punish you even harder?”

Being foolish, I wanted to see what other punishment he had in mind, so I refused again to kiss his feet. He left my blindfold off so that he could show me what was coming. He opened his bag of bondage supplies in a dramatic manner and pulled out what could only be described as a flogger. It had a handle like an umbrella from which dangled a set of leather straps about two feet long and about half an inch wide. I looked at it wide-eyed and decided I’d changed my mind about seeing what punishment he had in store for me.

But it was too late! He whaled on me with that thing at least twenty times; making loud cracking noises that would have certainly brought my mother and aunt running upstairs to investigate were they not more than half-deaf and sound sleepers besides. Amazingly, the blows didn’t leave a mark on me that was still visible by the next morning, but at the time the lashing hurt so badly that I thought I was being scarred for life! As it was, my yells might have awakened even the sound sleepers downstairs if it weren’t for the fact that I was gagged again!

My eyes were suddenly blinded as tears began to flow freely (and started to get all over the insides of my glasses), and it was all I could do not to cry out loud.

I think Sho realized he had reached my limits at that point, because he suddenly stopped beating me, dropped his flogger, swore something in Japanese, knelt down in front in me, looked me straight in the eye (as far as I can tell anyway; my vision was pretty blurry), and asked me if I was all right.

I couldn’t talk and I was breathing pretty hard, but after a few seconds to let the pain settle down a bit I slowly nodded my head. He took my glasses off (not easy with that rubber mask on) and wiped off my tears with a small terrycloth he had while I continued to kneel there and got my breathing back under control. Sho tried to get my glasses back on me but this proved impossible with that tight-fitting rubber mask locked onto me, and he was forced to give it up until he got around to taking the mask off of me. He offered to do so at once, but I signaled that he could hold off on that; I could see him well enough at close range regardless.

We resumed where we’d left off after a short break to let the pain of the flogging subside. I’d have liked to have had a break from being hogtied as well, but Sho didn’t offer a break and I couldn’t make the wish known while gagged. Naturally I tried, but Sho couldn’t seem to understand what I wanted for some reason and he made no effort to find out what was on my mind. I’m sure he knew, of course, but I guess his sense of mercy for slaves didn’t extend quite that far. After all, I’d only been tied up for an hour or so. Surely I could hold out for longer than *that*!

And if his unworthy slave didn’t get with the program and start obeying his master, he’d have to hold out a *lot* longer than that!

When Sho asked me once more to kiss his feet, I quickly nodded agreement (I’d had enough of punishments by this time) and Sho removed the ball gag so that I could comply. Then he sat on the edge of my bed and held his bare feet out right in front of me. I kissed the top of each foot quickly.

Whap! Sho smacked me on top of the head with the palm of his hand. “That was pathetic!” he told me. “Kiss my feet like you’d kiss a girl you loved right on the lips, or I’ll make you do things a whole lot more disgusting than kissing my feet!”

With a quiet sigh of resignation that – I must admit now – was more feigned than real (it wouldn’t do, after all, to let Sho know right away how much I was really getting into this). I kissed the top of his feet more passionately. I was thinking of kissing Julia when I did it at first; then I simply reveled in the moment and enjoyed the experience exactly as it was. Fortunately for what little dignity I still had, my swollen boner was completely hidden from Sho’s view while I was scrunched up like this.

“That’s good, Jason,” Sho complimented me. “Now lick them with your tongue.”

Seeing no point in (and really having no desire for) protesting the manner, I did as I was told, perhaps with a more enthusiasm than I should have let Sho see this early in the game. He said something in Japanese in an amused tone of voice. I didn’t know what it meant, but I think he was catching on to the fact that I was enjoying being his slave even more than he’d expected.

Sho told me to stop and he stood up, placed one foot gently on my shoulder, and made me roll over onto my side. This was less uncomfortable than kneeling; at least for a while. Then he sat down on the bed again, shoved the sole of one foot directly at my face, and told me to resume licking. I did – thankful that he at least had clean feet (we’d showered separately before going upstairs to bed).

After giving the soles of both of his feet a tongue bath which probably did little to make his feet cleaner than they already were, Sho raised me back up to an upright kneeling position – removing the straps connecting my thighs to my upper arms. Then he had me begin kissing the top of his feet again – and this time work my way up slowly but steadily up – kissing his ankles, shins, and knees. He had me linger at his knees and begin tongue-bathing his kneecaps, which I found strangely exciting. Then he stood up and had me carry on by kissing further and further up his thighs until I reached the lower edge of his boxers.

Naturally, I hoped this obstacle would be removed so that I could continue to the next logical area in line. But instead, Sho knelt down in front of me and had me resume kissing him just below his belly button and working my way up from there. I was disappointed, but only for a moment – surely we’d get to the area I had in mind eventually – and I enthusiastically began kissing his navel. I lingered at his nipples and then his shoulders for a while too as I progressed upward. And then I kissed the base of this throat, and then his chin…

And then he held me in his arms and we kissed quite passionately on the lips – not once but several times. We lost track of everything else for a while after that.

Then, while I was still hogtied and kneeling before Sho, he stood up, let his boxers slip down to his ankles, and guided my head to the main event. His main event wasn’t quite as long or as thick as some I’d experienced, but it was good enough for me and I wrapped my mouth around it eagerly as he pressed the back of my head against his groin as if I was trying to escape. No such idea ever occurred to me. Once he began to pump in and out, I was going nowhere but to Seventh Heaven.

He was slow to finish, but neither of us were in a hurry anyway.

Eventually the fireworks arrived and I was cleaned off. Then Sho released me from my hogtie, had me lay down on the bed, and tied me to it lying on my back in the usual manner. Then he knelt/sat on my belly entirely naked for an hour or so while we watched the small black-and-white TV I still had in my room until the New Year was rung in at Times Square.

Sho decided to make the first hour of my New Year special by providing me with a hand job. He was going to try to torture me by making me come close to climaxing and then stop, resume when I settled down, and repeat until I was begging him to finish me off. It was something he was good at with his older brother, but it didn’t quite work on me because he sat on me while he did it. He discovered the hard way that sitting on me is sufficient by itself to make me finish very quickly once I am started. In fact, his hand was covered with cream within ten seconds of his priming the pump – which apparently disgusted him (judging by his surprised “Aargghh!”) and amused him at the same time (“If you were Asian, you’d be named ‘Kum Kwik’!”). He was a bit annoyed I hadn’t warned him it was coming, but even for me, the first warning was when it was already happening.

Sho wiped his hands on my belly before grabbing a towel to clean us both off. Then he shut off the TV and the light, removed the mask and collar from me, and resumed sitting on my chest. Afterward we talked quietly a bit more and then he lay on top of me, hugged me in his arms, and fell asleep. It took me a while before I fell asleep as well, but I was thoroughly enjoying myself the entire time I lay there underneath him anyway.

The next thing I knew. I was hearing my mother calling us for breakfast. Fortunately Sho awoke at the same time and swiftly freed me. Since I’d been secured with leather wristbands rather than ropes, there were no tell-tale marks on my wrists to worry about, and the marks left by the mask had faded away overnight.

We got into some clean clothes and headed downstairs for breakfast, acting as if we’d spent a perfectly conventional night together. We all had a quiet, pleasant day together. Sho and I watched TV with my mother and aunt for a while, we went outside to have a snowball fight, and we engaged in other typical day-off activities.

After the day was over, the second and final night of Sho’s visit with me arrived. This time he stood me up, bent me over my bed railing, and tied me hunched over it as far forward as possible. Then, after the preliminaries like tickle torture were dispensed with, it was time for Vaseline and a back-door exploration. He didn’t know that this wasn’t my first time (and I didn’t think that it was necessary to tell him at the time) and he was as gentle as possible about it (unlike some of the others who’d approached the matter more abruptly).

The rest of that second night was much like the first, except that this involved kissing Sho all over from behind rather than in front. “Kiss my a**!” wasn’t simply an epithet this night. I ended up doing more than kissing it; as an encore, while I was laying down, Sho knelt-sat right on my face. Fortunately he kept himself very clean, so what he had me do wasn’t as unpleasant as you might think.

Afterward, when he had me tied down in bed for the night, he had me kiss him in various places all over again. He especially liked it when I kissed his kneecaps as he crouched atop my chest, and I admit it was a major turn-on for me too for some reason.

Sunday morning, the three of us bid my mother farewell and drove back to my aunt’s house. When we arrived at Sho’s house to drop him off, we found out that only his brothers were home at the home. As it was a nice day for early January, I decided to stay for a visit for a few hours rather than go straight back with my aunt to her house.

Sho and Ichiro gave me a tour of their barn, which was semi-heated and reasonably comfortable even in mid-winter. I found that their upper loft was laid out exactly as Sho had described it. There was a tiny cell with thick wooden sides and iron bars, lined with eyebolts for the securing of ropes or chains and manacles. There were also a couple of thick wooden beams only a few feet apart with numerous eyebolts set along their height from floor to ceiling, with a rafter lining the ceiling between them with several eyebolts of its own. The whole thing was obviously for the purpose of tying up someone securely, and Sho and Ichiro said they’d be perfectly happy to demonstrate on Jirou, who didn’t seem quite so happy about the idea.

But I got greedy and asked them to demonstrate on me instead.

And so they did. First they stood me up on a pallet about a foot high and tied my wrists and legs wide apart in an X-shape so that my feet were barely supporting my weight. Then they tied ropes around my waist, shoulders, and legs and tied all of these off to the eye-bolts above me to help distribute my weight load all over my body. After that, the pallet was rolled out from under me, and I was suspended in mid-air as though I was caught in a huge spider’s web. As I was suspended by my entire body and not just my wrists, I was held rigid in a way that wasn’t at all uncomfortable. I reveled in my helplessness for an hour or so while the three brothers tickled me and subjected me to other mild tortures (clothespins on the nipples and earlobes being their apparent favorite approach).

Afterward I was let down and then tied and hooded in the same way Sho had done to me in my own bedroom, and I was made a (willing) slave to all three of them for about three hours. It was then I discovered that Jirou was just as active as his older brothers when it came to the more intimate stuff. I was a bit surprised, but not too much so; he was already well into puberty and with older brothers like Sho and Ichiro, he’d been bound to get into this sooner or later.

When I thought about it, I figured that Michael (David’s youngest brother) was probably getting ready for such things himself, since he was about the same age as Jirou and also had two active older brothers. But it didn’t work out quite the same way. Unlike Sho and his brothers, as far as I know David and *his* brothers were not – and never were – active with one another. Additionally, Michael was never active with me, but he and Jirou were friends and it’s likely that Michael was active with him, but I don’t know this for sure.

In any case, Jirou definitely had fun showing me who was boss on this occasion. I was made to do all sorts of degrading things it might be best not to describe, and any disobedience was gleefully punished by his two older brothers. They were the enforcers to Jirou’s role as the “Godfather”. But it was all in play; I knew they’d stop if I really insisted on it. However, I never did any such thing.

All in all, it was an exceptionally pleasant afternoon, and was the first of many occasions when I’d visit the barn and become the slave of one to three masters. Though my cousins and other friends had taken tie-up games to a whole new level with me after my childhood experiences with my brother and *his* friends, Sho and his brothers had now introduced me to the level after *that*. Up to now, it had simply been tie-up games spiced up with sitting on me and other forms of degradation and mild torture.

But now, for the first time, I had experienced true bondage as a “sub” – and I loved it!

By the way, I never heard anything further about the so-called bet Sho had supposedly made with Walter and Randy. I think it was probably just another attempt by cousins at a hoax. If so, I’ve never been quite sure what the point of it was.


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Last edited by Jason Toddman on Tue Sep 28, 2010 12:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby xtc » Tue Sep 28, 2010 3:35 am

Ir's always a pleasure to read a new Jason Toddman posting.
Well written as always and presented in a way that makes it very easy to read. The illustrations are also fun.
I must admit, however, that I prefer some of your other stories. I hope you don't mind my saying that.

Wassail!
xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

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

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby Jason Toddman » Tue Sep 28, 2010 6:52 am

xtc wrote:Ir's always a pleasure to read a new Jason Toddman posting.
Well written as always and presented in a way that makes it very easy to read. The illustrations are also fun.
I must admit, however, that I prefer some of your other stories. I hope you don't mind my saying that.

Wassail!
xtc


I never mind an honest opinion. But please tell me what it is about the other stories you like better; that'll help me keep writing better stories.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby sarumansauron » Tue Sep 28, 2010 12:13 pm

Already I, am an unconditional fan of all his stories and pictures. The times I repeat a comment, but all are sincere. And that story is more and more amused. Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby snobound » Tue Sep 28, 2010 6:10 pm

Geez.... you were a very lucky boy! All MY cousins ever did was break my stuff! I would have done just about anything to have access to TUG partners at that age- so much time WASTED. My TUG experiences (aside from lots of self bondage) were few and far between until my very late teens. I have been reading this bit by bit over the last couple of weeks, and I feel as if I know the characters (and you) after getting through all the chapters. Art wise, I especially like the hood/cuffs, the hogtie, and the one where you're being pulled on the wagon. The visuals definitely help bring the story to life.... I wish I had some artistic ability.
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby Jason Toddman » Tue Sep 28, 2010 8:48 pm

I wish I had your *current* TUGs opportunties. I was very lucky as a boy, but I used up all my TUGs luck in adolesence I guess; I've had no TUGs at all in over ten years.
Part of it is that virtually all my TUGs experiences in childhood and adolesence were set up for me; first by my older brother and later by my cousins. Without them, and the other boys I befriended through them, I'd have had a far less interesting story to tell as I could never have found such opportunities on my own (and of course haven't since either). I have little experience in finding TUG partners entirely on my own; mostly I just stumbled into them.
So you are more right than you realize when you said I was a lucky boy; I was very fortunate to have the cousins I did and having them be an active part of my life in my teenage years. I owe them everything when it comes to my adolescent Tug experiences.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby Jason Toddman » Sun Oct 03, 2010 3:14 pm

EPISODE 7 – DON’T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER’S TIED UP!


As winter wore on, I found myself spending less time with most of my male friends (excluding my cousins, of course) and more time with my girlfriend Julia. She had to share her time with me with Rusty and my cousins; but I, in turn, had to share my time with her with her brothers George and Morgan – who ended up being the only male friends other than Rusty and my cousins that I spent as much time with as before.

Julia and I did manage to find time to go out on dates together (usually the dinner and a movie kind) without others around, but the dates rarely got more intimate than a series of passionate kisses and occasional mutual feel-ups.

I was reasonably satisfied with all of this. But it was a happier arrangement for me than it was for Julia, who expressed occasional but patient disgruntlement. I started to understand her point of view after the Christmas vacation ended. At that point, Julia took up babysitting after school hours to earn some extra money. By the second week of February, she was babysitting one or more children at her own house on a regular basis (with her brothers providing reluctant assistance) or at their parents’ houses (in which case she usually asked me to come help her). Most of her charges were boys and girls between the ages of five and twelve. They were generally well-behaved, especially taking their ages into account. However, it was difficult for Julia and me to share intimate moments with young children about, and she gently pointed out that she felt the same way sometimes when my friends were present.

One child she babysat on a regular schedule each Wednesday evening of the week was a nine-year-old boy named Roland. His parents got to know me because I’d come to visit (and assist) Julia before they left to go wherever it was they went, and I was still there when they returned. We got along pretty well, as I was a quiet, shy, bookworm type; older people seemed like me better than they liked the average, more active type of adolescent boy. After a while Julia, and I even started to linger after they returned home; we’d have lengthy, pleasant conversations about school or other matters of adolescent interest.

One Wednesday night in late March, Julia called me an hour before she would normally pick me up on her way to Roland’s house and told me she’d come down with the flu and could I *please* babysit Roland myself? His parents absolutely *had* to go somewhere; no one else they trusted was available, but they liked me and would pay me the same as they paid Julia. One of the parents would even come to pick me up, drive me to their house, and give me a ride home again when they returned. She spoke so urgently – more not wanting to let Roland’s parents down than concerned about losing a steady customer – that I readily agreed to do the job. She told me to expect Roland’s mother to pick me up shortly.

I was taken to the house and spent a relaxing evening with Roland. He was a bright and friendly kid who wanted to play chess, so I played about a dozen games with him. I think I won maybe twice. I was a fair chess player, but he was very good at it (good for any age, not just nine years old). He was also such a sweet kid that he didn’t crow about his victories. Not much, anyway. He simply smiled and set up the board for the next war between the white and the black. It was a pleasant change of pace to spend time alone with somebody younger than me who wasn’t out to tie me up and torture me.

I put Roland to bed at the usual time, as dictated by his parents (unlike some kids, he was quite docile about going to bed) and then watched TV – checking on Roland occasionally – until his parents returned home. They paid me and Roland’s mother took me home again. By this time, my aunt was asleep but my cousins were still awake. They were in a mood for some fun… so I wound up getting tied up and tortured for a while after all.

The following day after school, I got a call from a lady I didn’t know. She asked me if I’d babysit her son all day Saturday and overnight into Sunday. She’d tried to hire Julia, but Julia was still sick. But after getting a recommendation from a source she didn’t name (though I assumed it was either Julia or Roland’s parents), she’d called me.

The lady was quite desperate. Her husband was a naval officer who was usually away but now he was home on leave and they wanted to have a quiet and private get-away. She warned me that her son was a bit of a handful, that I could do whatever I needed to do to keep him in line, and she’d pay me $50 for the job. As this was 1971 – the heyday of the sixty-cent paperback novel and the fifteen-cent comic book – $50 would buy a lot of reading material! I agreed to do the job without even bothering to find out more about the kid I’d be babysitting.

Make that kids. At the end of the conversation, she told me a friend of her son’s would be staying over too. Then she told me she’d pick me up Saturday at noon. After that, she hung up immediately, without giving me a chance to reply, as though she was afraid that I’d change my mind about taking the job.

On Saturday, high noon arrived on schedule and the lady came for me in an almost-new Lincoln Continental. She was obviously well-off; those things cost a lot even by today’s standards. We drove on down the road, passing by the houses of my various friends as we went. I saw Gary at his house as we passed by and I waved to him – I hadn’t seen him outside of school in months at that point – but he didn’t see me before we’d passed him and I hadn’t rolled the windows down in time to call out to him.

We reached our destination just a quarter mile down the road from Gary’s house; it was a small but well-kept, stylish farm next to the lake. We got out of the car and went inside the house to meet the lady’s son. It was only then that she told me his name was Stevie.

Yep! It was *that* Stevie! Not yet 11 but already 5’ 8” and – at a mere 110 pounds –even more gangly than Rusty was. He was the tallest kid I’d ever met who hadn’t hit puberty yet, and in fact he would grow as tall as I was by the time puberty *did* hit. I figured even then that he’d end up being about 6’ 6” (but still as thin as a rail) by the age of 15. As it turns out, I was wrong – he was closer to 6’ 8’ by then.

Stevie was waiting at the front door and cheerfully greeted me by name – momentarily startling his mother until we explained that we’d met at his friend Gordon’s house. The fact that we already knew each other and that Stevie apparently felt friendly towards me seemed to make his mother happy. She paused only long enough to give some brief instructions to Stevie (mostly involving his behaving himself) and started to leave.

Stevie’s mother was in a hurry, because she wanted to meet her husband when he landed at the jetport. But when she was halfway to her car, she suddenly paused, turned around, and asked Stevie, “Where’s your little friend who was visiting you when I left? I thought he was staying overnight with you!”

“He is!” replied Stevie casually. “He’s in the bathroom!”

“Oh!” replied his mother, who gave it no further thought (she was already running late) and hurried off to have her rendezvous with her husband.

“So, is your friend really in the bathroom?” I asked Stevie casually once his mother was safely out of earshot, “or have you got him tied up somewhere?”

“Both!” replied Stevie with a mischievous smile as he ran back into the house. He led me to the bathroom door, opened it, and showed me a 12-year-old boy sitting on the toilet (but with his pants up where they should be). The boy was gagged, blindfolded, handcuffed, and leg-cuffed. His handcuffs were tightly connected in front of him to his waist by a length of chain looped around his waist and also connected to his leg-cuffs by a two-foot chain running between his legs. He seemed to be content to just sit there placidly without making any attempt to protest or struggle.

Despite the gag and blindfold concealing most of his face, it was immediately obvious that this was the same boy I’d seen as Stevie’s pretend prisoner at the Halloween party.

It was also obvious that this kid must spend a lot of time as Steve’s prisoner, as it was unlikely that I’d just happened to witness the only times that this had happened by mere chance.

The kid, whose name I soon found out was Matt, sat there as placidly as a statue of Buddha as Stevie walked over to him and removed his blindfold. Stevie proceeded to introduce us without bothering to remove Matt’s gag or any of his restraints. This didn’t seem to faze Matt in the least; he simply nodded a greeting when Stevie said to him, “This is the babysitter I told you about. His name is Jason. Say hello, Matt!”

“*Mmph!*” said Matt through his gag, nodding his head in greeting.

“Uhh, hello Matt,” I replied a bit lamely. “Umm, do you want me to get Stevie to get you free from all that?”

Matt glanced at Stevie. Stevie subtly shook his head no. Matt promptly shook his head no as well to answer my question.

After that, I mentally dubbed him “Door Matt”.

Apparently, though, Matt was happy enough with things the way they were, so I saw no reason to interfere and insist that he be let go. After all, I was in the same predicament often enough myself when my cousins or my other friends were around, and I probably wouldn’t have wanted some busybody stranger to make them let *me* go either. So I decided to let things remain as they were, as long as Matt showed no signs of distress.

“So, is Matt going to be a new recruit in the club?” I asked Stevie, as he helped Matt rise to his feet and hobble on in front of us as we walked out of the bathroom and proceeded at Matt’s best speed towards the living room.

“Naw, this is just a private thing between the two of us, though sometimes Gordon joins in too,” Stevie told me. “Matt’s not interested in anybody else tying him up, and I don’t want to share him with anybody else either.” He said this right in front of Matt, as casually as though he was talking about a new toy rather than a friend of his.

Although Matt was about two years older than Stevie, Stevie towered almost a full head over him – though I think Matt was probably the heavier and stronger of the two. Despite this, Matt was as docile as a toddler as Stevie guided him to a chair in the living room, sat him down in it, and proceeded to tie him to it with a clothesline he’d carried in a paper bag.

Although I loved being tied up myself, I usually made at least *some* token resistance; especially if I was surprised by one of my cousins’ frequent ambushes. But Matt just sat there without moving or even making a sound. I couldn’t see his expression through the gag, but his eyes, at least, seemed lively as opposed to resigned. Additionally, I think I heard him giggle a few times as Stevie tied him to the chair with considerable skill.

By the time Stevie finished tying all the knots and looping coils of rope, Matt was an immovable part of the chair. He couldn’t move anything below his neck more than a fraction of an inch, as there were coils of rope and numerous knots around every part of him and every part of the chair that could be tied together. Yet he seemed quite comfortable and content with the situation; he spent most of the time watching whatever was on TV, paying attention to Stevie’s rope-work only when the taller boy was finished. He attempted to get free only when Stevie told him to do so. The attempt was probably as half-hearted as it was futile, and Matt resumed watching TV immediately afterward.

Stevie was definitely experienced at this sort of thing, and I was curious about how the boys had met and started this type of game. Before I could ask any questions, though, Gordon abruptly rode in on his bike for a visit. Gordon paid little attention to Matt’s situation; this was apparently something that he was well-accustomed to seeing. Instead, he asked Stevie for help with some homework. Stevie agreed to help, and they went upstairs to Stevie’s bedroom, leaving Matt bound and gagged in his chair and me alone with him.

Looking upstairs after the two departed boys and seeing that they had no immediate plans to return to tend to Matt, I decided I’d better do so myself. I started to remove his gag, halfway expecting him to resist me in the attempt. But he just sat there and looked at me placidly, so I took it all the way off. But when I began to untie him, he asked me politely not to; he said that he liked being tied up. Well, I could certainly relate to that, so I said that I’d respect his wishes, but I insisted that he tell me if he needed anything – like a drink of water. He promised that he would and turned his attention back to the TV.

After that, I turned my own attention to Stevie and Gordon. I could hear them doing something upstairs that apparently involved moving furniture around. I called out to ask them if everything was all right and if they needed any help.

“No, everything’s fine,” replied Stevie. He sounded casual, but I thought I heard a slight edge of excitement in his voice.

“Aren’t you going to check on Matt?” I asked him.

“What for?” replied Gordon reasonably, but with even more of a touch of excitement in his voice; his tone should have made me suspicious. “*You’re* the babysitter! *You* keep an eye on him!”

“He’ll be okay, Jason,” put in Stevie. As he said this, I could have sworn I heard a slap and a muffled exclamation. “Matt’s used to being tied up like that. He won’t give you any trouble.”

I tried to ask Matt how he got into tie-up games with Stevie, but he just grunted muted, monosyllabic answers and paid more attention to the TV than to me. I might as well have left him gagged for all the conversation I got out of him.

After a half hour or so, the noise upstairs subsided into complete silence that was broken only by an occasional snicker. Then I heard what sounded like something soft but heavy being dragged upstairs along the hallway landing directly above the stairs. I finally started to get suspicious and began to go upstairs to investigate when at precisely the same time Stevie called down to me. I had just reached the foot of the stairs and looked up when I saw not two, but four young faces peering down at me from the railing of the hallway on the second floor.

I also saw the mesh of a rather large and heavy fishing net just as it was dropped right on top of me!

I muttered “WTF?!!” as the net landed on me, enmeshed my entire body, and tangled my arms and legs. It was large enough to engulf me with its ends dropping down to the floor on all sides of me, and heavy enough to send me sprawling against the steps behind me (I had turned around to look up just a split second before). As if this wasn’t enough, several ropes were attached to the rim of the thing, and as soon as the net had knocked me down, several sets of hands tugged on them in such a way as to tighten the rim closed together like the drawstrings of a laundry sack… entangling me even further.

With hollered whoops that sounded like a Indian war party, four young boys jumped down the stairs and descended on me with mischievous intent. In addition to Gordon and Stevie, I saw Corey and Kevin as well; apparently they’d been upstairs ever since before my arrival without me (or Stevie’s mother) being aware of it. They’d been waiting there specifically to help spring a trap on me.

Though normally I probably could have held my own against all four boys (none of whom except Stevie were more than half my size), the net put me at a serious disadvantage. The four of them swarmed over me with coils of rope in their hands before I could get up and defend myself. Before I knew it, they looped rope all around me and pinned my arms to my side and my legs together. I was completely helpless.

Once they had me enmeshed, they adjusted the net slightly until a foot-wide hole in it came adjacent to my head. They pulled the net down so that my head poked through the hole – leaving it the only part of me that was now free of the net. From my shoulders down to the soles of my feet I was as thoroughly netted as it was possible to be. The thing was made from rope twice as thick as clothesline and had gaps that were a mere couple of inches wide. Additionally, there were weights attached to lines which now coiled tightly around my ankles and made it impossible for me to walk unassisted.

I was now completely at the mercy of these four. I don’t count Matt because he was still tied up in his chair and being virtually ignored, though he watched my own entrapment with considerable (if silent) interest. I struggled a bit in the net, while all four of my captors simply sat on top of me and the net and watched me tire myself out for nothing.

Finally I gave up the struggle and, half out of breath, weakly asked, “What gives?”

“Well, we’re all members of the same club, aren’t we?” asked Steve. “But I haven’t gotten to tie you up and sit on you since I joined. Kevin, Corey, and Gordon haven’t tied you up in months either. We’ve just had one another – when Gary, Al, or Ron aren’t tying us up and tormenting us instead! We’d heard you were doing babysitting jobs now, so when Mom needed a babysitter, I got her to hire you. Once she did that, we set this up for you, because we heard how much you like being ambushed by your cousins!”

*Did* they? I’d have to have a little talk with Randy and Walter about that, I thought to myself. I wondered what *other* rumors they were spreading about me to all and sundry. Still, it sounded like all that Stevie and the others wanted was a little tie-up fun, and I could certainly sympathize with that, so my initial sense of outrage quickly faded. Besides, I was getting paid for this job, and this was a chance to have some fun as well.

“Okay, fellas, I guess it’s okay,” I said in a more reasonable tone. “Well, you got me good. So how about letting me go now? Lying on these steps is uncomfortable enough without the four of you on top of me!”

“We’ll make you more comfortable, all right,” Stevie assured me as the four of them quickly got off of me. “But no way are we letting you out of the net *that* quickly!”

They started to grab the net and began to drag me back into the living room, but this was hard work even for the four of them (the net strands kept snagging on various objects, for one thing) and they stopped to take a breather before we were halfway back to the couch.

I suggested that they stand me up and let me do a slow waddle to the couch instead. They figured this would be even harder and vetoed the idea. Then Stevie came up with the notion of rolling me the rest of the way. I was too tangled up to roll over on my own, though, and even with their assistance, there were too many obstacles in the way. So finally they just resumed dragging me the rest of the way to the couch. Two of them sat in the couch, took off their shoes, and used me for a footrest while the other two sat on me. Then they all watched TV, along with Matt who was still securely tied to his own chair.

I began to say something, and Stevie (who was sitting on the couch closest to my head) gagged me with his bare foot and told me to hush up, or else. Deciding I didn’t want to know what his idea of “or else” was, I hushed up and watched TV with the others.

Every so often, Stevie or Gordon would go upstairs for a minute or so and then come back down again. I wondered why; they couldn’t be going to the bathroom as there was one downstairs. Based on one whispered comment I overheard, I gathered they were checking on something in Stevie’s room, but I had no idea at the time what that might be. I was surprised when I found out what it was, but that came later.

About an hour later the phone rang, and Stevie answered it. “Hello. Yeah, he’s here, just like I said he’d be. Yep, he’s all tied up right now! We’ve been waiting for you guys! Yeah, sure! Come on over when you can! Okay, bye!” And he hung up the phone.

Since Stevie was no longer gagging me with his foot, I was able to talk. “Who the Hell was *that*?” I wanted to know.

“None of your business!” Stevie told me as he grabbed a discarded sock, forced it into my mouth, tied another sock around my mouth and lower face, and then began covering all that with layer after layer of duct tape. “You’ll find out soon enough anyway!”

A half-hour later the doorbell rang. Stevie went to the front door to answer it and came back with Michael and Morgan in tow. It then occurred to me that every kid that had trapped and tormented me in Gary’s barn in that new bondage bed last summer was now present and accounted for. They wanted to engage in some kind of encore performance! And this time, they had a literally captive audience in the form of Matt, who was still tied and had been gagged again too. He seemed to mind it no more now than he had at the beginning; apparently he enjoyed being tied up even more than *I* did!

However, our six captors seemed to be in no hurry to torment me or Matt. They seemed satisfied merely to have the two of us completely at their mercy. There was none of the enthusiasm for torture they’d displayed on the other occasion, when they’d seemed almost determined to *kill* me. Instead they continued to rest their feet (or their behinds) on me and simply watched TV as though Matt and I weren’t there in the same room with them at all.

Somewhere around three o’clock, Matt was released from his tie-up and allowed to move around freely for about a half-hour. Then he was tied up thoroughly again and laid on the couch, where Stevie, Corey and Gordon sat on top of him for another two hours while the other boys sat on me. Despite the rule that we were supposed to have about such things in the club, nobody gave *me* any breaks from *my* tie-up, but I wasn’t in any discomfort and I made no attempt to complain through my gag.

This went on practically the entire afternoon. Then, one by one, Morgan, Michael and Corey went home. Gordon and Kevin remained, however, as did the still-tied Matt. I only found out then that all three were staying overnight to visit Stevie in a sleepover instead of the single friend (presumably Matt) I’d been told to expect.

Every so often, Stevie or one of the other boys went upstairs for some reason – sometimes two or more together. Once or twice they all went up there (except Matt, of course), and I could hear laughter and joking. I wondered if they were laughing at Matt and me, who were alone together downstairs and unable to move a muscle. Occasionally I heard what sounded like muffled squealing, but it was hard to be sure over the sound of the TV and the noise the boys made upstairs.

Then came dinnertime and the boys were getting hungry. But instead of letting me loose so that I could fix them something, Stevie warmed up some leftovers his mother had fixed for us himself. I was ungagged and served my meal in the style I’d grown accustomed to – Stevie knelt/sat on my chest and fed me by the forkful – although they seemed to think this idea was original with them. He also gave me water to drink and even threw in an apple for dessert.

Towards evening, the boys began to get a bit rowdier, removing their shirts and wrestling with one another – often over my prone body. Around six o’clock, Matt was released from his tie again, and this time he stayed free for the rest of the evening and joined the other three boys in their rough-housing. Occasionally, one of them would dash upstairs for a few moments; this included Matt now. Then, when they were tired out, all four rested by sitting on top of me.

Stevie checked his watch. “It’s five of eight,” he told me. “Mom told me this morning that she’ll be calling at eight on the dot. You’ll tell her everything’s okay, right?” He asked this not in a warning or implied-threat kind of way, but simply like a kid slightly worried that he might have gone a bit too far with his fun.

“Sure, if you’ll untie me so I can have a break,” I told him casually, feeling no resentment about the way I’d been trapped. “I’ll let you tie me back up afterward.”

The phone rang. “Too late now!” said Stevie as he got off my chest, grabbed the phone, carried it back to where I lay, and sat back down on my chest with it still ringing. He set the phone cradle down beside me and picked up the receiver. “Hello? Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m fine. Yeah, he’s right here. Hold on.”

Stevie held the phone to my ear so that I could talk into it and hear responses as well as if I was holding it myself. “Hello?” I said into the speaker, feeling weird talking on the phone while it was being held by a ten-year-old boy kneeling on top of me.

“Hello, Jason,” said Stevie’s mother on the other end. “Is everything all right over there?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied casually. “Everything’s nice and quiet here.” It *was* quiet, too, as the other boys didn’t make a sound while I talked except for an occasional smothered giggle.

“Stevie isn’t up to any mischief, is he?” the lady asked me in a slightly disbelieving tone of voice.

“No, ma’am,” I lied. “Umm, why do you ask?” I finished, more because it seemed natural to do so than because I felt any need to know.

“Oh, well, he likes to play certain games from time to time,” she told me with a small laugh. “I should have warned you, but I was so rushed I forgot to. Whatever you do, don’t let him get any ropes on you. He has a peculiar fondness for tying up people whenever he gets the chance. He’d keep them tied up for hours if I let him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tied his young friend up while I went to pick you up. Is Tommy still there, by the way? He was supposed to stay overnight, I believe.”

“Umm… Tommy?” I asked lamely, and suddenly noticed a look of chagrin on Stevie’s face. “I thought the other boy’s name was Matt.”

“Oh, is Matt there too?” asked Stevie’s mother. “He must have come while I was picking you up. But what about Tommy?”

“Umm, I don’t know, ma’am,” I replied, suddenly suspicious. “I haven’t met anyone named Tommy today. I…”

Stevie suddenly yanked the phone away from me and placed it against his own ear. “Hi, Mom? Tommy had to go home suddenly. No, I’m sure he’s all right. Yes, Matt’s staying over with me tonight. Yes, Mom. I’ll behave and mind Jason. Yes, Mom. Okay. I’ll brush my teeth and wash up before I go to bed. Yes, Mom. Is Dad there? Okay…” And then he spent five minutes or so talking with his father (while I silently stared at him) before he finally hung up the phone.

“Okay, Stevie, who’s Tommy?!” I asked him.

“Aw, you know who he is,” Stevie said. “He’s a member of the club too, after all.”

Oh, *that* Tommy; or, rather, Tom (I usually didn’t call him Tommy like others did). “And where *is* he?” I asked as patiently as I could.

“Upstairs,” Stevie answered quietly. “In my room.”

“And what’s he been doing up there all this time?” I asked, though I was pretty sure of the answer.

“Lying in my bed, tied up,” he mumbled, almost too low to hear. “He’s been here since eight this morning.”

“You’ve had him tied up for twelve hours straight!?” I asked Stevie in astonishment. “You ought to know better than that!”

“We’ve been checking on him,” Stevie said defensively. “We gave him water to drink and something to eat, and let him use the bathroom a couple of times on the condition he didn’t make any sounds to get your attention.”

“Well, now *I* want to check on him!” I told him. “Let me go!”

Stevie started to look a little rebellious, and I decided drastic measures were called for. Under the circumstances, physical force wasn’t an option, but I thought of another approach. “Let me go, Stevie, or I swear I’ll talk with the other members and have you expelled from the club!”

This was a pure bluff on my part, since I wasn’t sure what protocol (if any) existed for such a thing, but it seemed to impress Stevie enough. He and the other boys untied me and helped me struggle out of the net (which took several minutes by itself, since the net was thoroughly tangled around me); then we all went upstairs together.

Stevie led me to his room, and there I saw Tom wearing only his boxer shorts and tied spread-eagled to Stevie’s bed. He was gagged, blindfolded, ear-plugged (with radio music playing in his ears), and apparently oblivious to our presence. Stevie was subjecting Tom to sensory deprivation; a rather advanced technique that he must have learned from one of the older club members.

I’d visited Tom a few times since the previous summer and he’d visited me, but we hadn’t visited or played TuGs together since winter due to lack of opportunity. He’d grown a couple of inches in the meantime and lost some of the flab he’d had when I first met him. I removed his blindfold, gag, and ear-muffs and checked him over, but he seemed none the worse for his experience. He was happy to see me and said he hadn’t minded being tied up so long, but he needed to pee like a racehorse. I untied him with the help of the others, and he took off for the bathroom like a racehorse, too.

Stevie and the others were disappointed; they figured this was the end of the fun already when they’d hoped to continue well into the night. But when Tom returned and said he was ready to be tied back up, and Matt said the same thing, I saw no reason not to let the game continue. This time, though, Tom was tied to a chair in Stevie’s room and Matt was placed into a hogtie.

Then Stevie politely asked if I’d like to be tied up again as well… promising to untie me again whenever I asked him to. But I decided that I’d better stay free so that I could make sure everybody went to bed when they were supposed to. I regretfully declined the offer.

I had them untie Tom and Matt again at ten o’clock and we all got ready for bed. I was to use the bed in the guest room, Stevie was going to sleep in his own bed, and except for Tom, the other boys would be on the couch downstairs or on a spare mattress that Stevie’s parents had. Tom had his own sleeping bag, and he wanted to sleep in the same room as me, so I let him.

Tom and I talked for a while before going to sleep and we caught up with each other’s recent experiences. I don’t know how long I slept, but I’m sure it was less than an hour before I felt myself suddenly swarmed upon in my sleep by a number of smaller bodies. I sleepily tried to fight back, but once again my smaller assailants had the advantage of surprise and numbers. Additionally, this time, there were five attackers as opposed to four, since even Tom joined in. They pinned me down at once and soon had me thoroughly bound, gagged and helpless.

This time they were determined to have their fun! And nothing I could say (mmph!) or do (wriggle slightly) was going to make any difference!

For the next few hours, I was sat on, tickled everywhere, had ice placed inside my boxer shorts, clothes-pins clapped on my nipples, and endured many of the other tortures that nine-to-twelve year-old boys seem to feel is fun to inflict on helpless victims. Even Tom helped them torment me; he tickled me more relentlessly than any of the others except for Stevie. But there was no rough stuff, and – save for one moment when Stevie exposed himself to me just to see my reaction – there was no hint of anything sexual either. It was just five young boys tying me up and innocently tormenting me for half the night before they finally called it a night for real.

I was left tied up in bed while the others slept, but I know that one or another of them checked on me about once an hour because I was occasionally awakened by their movements. The tie-up was fine with me, as I knew that – despite being at the mercy of younger kids – I was as safe here as I was at home. So I slept fairly well until morning, when Stevie (still only in his undershorts) climbed up on top of me and fed me breakfast in bed before he untied me.

After I was let go, we all spent a quiet Sunday morning spent playing various indoor games like Monopoly or watching TV, as it was too wet and muddy to go outdoors. Eventually, Stevie’s guests left, leaving Stevie and me alone. We played chess until his parents came home. Fortunately for my self-esteem, he was nowhere near as good a chess player as Roland was; I won every game.

After Stevie’s parents arrived, I met his father for the first time, and I really looked up to the man… not just because he was a naval officer and an all-round nice guy but also because he was 6’10” tall. He was the tallest man I’d ever met at the time, and his height helped to explain Stevie’s beanpole nature.

Stevie’s parents thanked me for babysitting Stevie, told me that the father was home on leave for a week, that they wanted another quiet weekend together alone, and would I agree to babysit Stevie again the following weekend for another $50? Stevie gave me a quick nod and a mischievous wink and a smile (unseen by his parents) as I agreed to take the job. I didn’t hesitate; it seemed like the perfect deal to me!

However, I warned Stevie before I left: “No more ambushes!” He smiled an agreement, we shook hands, and I was paid off and given a ride home by his mother.

I entered my aunt’s house, determined to have a talk with Water and Randy about their spreading rumors to people about how I liked to be ambushed and tied up.

Before I could do so, they ambushed me and tied me up. They had the enthusiastic assistance of Ron and Gary, who had apparently been recruited for this event. My aunt was away visiting my mother and so wasn’t around to interfere. I tried to protest, of course, but I got a sock in the mouth (the cotton kind – not the knuckle sandwich variety) and was gagged before I could get a word in edgewise. Once I was thoroughly helpless, I was dragged into the living room, lifted up and dropped onto the couch, and sat upon by all four of the others.

“Gordon told me about the fun you had babysitting Stevie,” Gary told me as he sat on my chest. “Since you love ambushes so much, we figured you’d like another!”

I didn’t mind this development all that much, but my sense of dignity seemed to require a show of resistance, so I struggled a bit. But it was no use. They sat on me all afternoon while watching TV. After that, they moved me to the kitchen table and fed me dinner by hand. Then they moved me onto the living room floor in front of the couch and used me for a foot rest for the rest of the evening.

Then – after allowing me an *assisted* bathroom break – they lugged me upstairs to my room before my aunt came home late that night. Gary and Ron couldn’t stay overnight as it was a school night, but Walter and Randy kept me occupied without their aid – and they didn’t let me go free until morning. The bastards! I had to frantically catch up on my homework, too, as I’d had no chance to work on it like I’d originally planned!

The following weekend I did my babysitting chore with Stevie again. Matt was there as well, tied up to a chair like before. I spent most of the afternoon tied up to a chair right beside him while Stevie tended to our needs (an occasional drink of water, scratching an itch, loosening the ropes to check circulation, etc.) as if *he* were the babysitter; but all three of us were happy with the arrangement.

That evening I was tied up in bed and the other two sat on me and teased me for several more hours before going to bed themselves. I was left tied up until morning and I learned later that Matt was tied to his bed all night in a similar fashion. Both boys “flashed” me and sat on my face quite a bit, but otherwise there was nothing sexual about what they did – unlike many of the TuGs I’d had with friends my own age.

It was certainly a fun way to earn another $50!

I had occasional babysitting jobs for a while after that, but none were as enjoyable as these two occasions. I never got to babysit Stevie again, but when he grew older we occasionally visited each other or visited one of the club members together for both TuGs and non-TuGs play.

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Last edited by Jason Toddman on Sun Oct 03, 2010 11:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Dare to be different... and make a difference.
To boldly go where no one in their right mind has gone before...

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby snobound » Sun Oct 03, 2010 9:31 pm

Great continuation! I think I have a lot in common with Matt. Glad to see that your motivation/enthusiasm has returned.
Try out the TUGs chat! http://chat.mibbit.com/#tugsnet

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby xtc » Mon Oct 04, 2010 2:58 am

Good episode. I enjoyed that.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

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

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Oct 04, 2010 8:11 am

Great continuation! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby fratboydanny » Tue Oct 05, 2010 2:31 am

this, Jason was an amazing chapter. i just LOVED the netting. i myself have always held nettings as a big part of my fantasies....had it done to me in play with my cousin....reading it in your story as a moment of true enjoyment. Thanks!

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby fratboydanny » Tue Oct 05, 2010 12:53 pm

and, i would have to agree with SB that i have a lot in common with Matt, but also Tommy. i could easily have seen myself in these scenes and not wanting to be released and wanting to just be left alone and enjoy the roping and gagging.

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby Jason Toddman » Mon Oct 11, 2010 9:49 am

Thanks for the feedback,everyone.
To Snobund and Fratboydanny: I myself had a lot in common in Matt, as you could probably already tell. I had in fact more in common with him than I realized at this point in the story. I learned even more about things we had in common later in the summer, as I'll detail in an upcoming story (already written but not yet posted):

EPISODE 8 – TAKING THE BULLY BY THE HORNS!



When I was a younger kid, I got picked on quite a bit by older boys. I’d have been picked on even more than I was, but I had a big brother who was – well – BIG. He was four years older than I was, large and strong for his age, and he beat up any kid he found out had been picking on me, provided they were larger than me and I couldn’t be expected to handle them by myself.

My father may not have been bigger than their fathers, but my brother was bigger than them and their brothers combined, so no bully who encountered my brother ever bothered me again. This was one thing about my relationship with my brother that I didn’t mind at all. I recall that I once went so far as to deliberately lead a bully who was chasing me to a place nearby where I knew my brother was that day, and I watched with almost vindictive pleasure as my brother beat him to a pulp.

Of course, my brother didn’t do this because he loved me. I think it was because he felt that no one had any right to beat me up but *him!* He didn’t ever actually hit me – much – but I was a part of *his* territory, and he defended it with a passion.

There were occasions, though, that didn’t involve my brother. Sometimes bullies who hassled me were interrupted due to circumstances that were all but miraculous. It was enough to make you believe in guardian angels.

One time when I was about 8 or 9, I was minding my own business reading a book in a park-like area behind the library. A pair of older boys came along and thought it would be fun to beat me up. Just as they were about to start, a swarm of hornets came flying out from under a nearby unused backdoor stairway, attacked them, and stung them all over their faces and arms. They fled with cries of dismay while I ran off in the opposite direction. I didn’t get stung even once.

Sometime later I was walking through a neighborhood when an older kid I’d never seen before rode up on a bicycle, got off, and began to hassle me for unexplained reasons. As he was getting warmed up, a dog that looked and acted like “Cujo” from the movie a decade later suddenly appeared to one side of us and started growling at him. The kid got back on his bike and took off like a shot; the huge dog ignored me and chased him. They both disappeared and I never saw either one again.

Later that winter, I was walking in town when yet another older kid decided that I was his personal punching bag and tried to pick a fight. While he was preparing to beat me up, I heard what sounded like a loud crack directly overhead. I looked up and saw a chunk of ice dangling from the eaves of the roof of the several-story tall building we were standing in front of. It broke off and started to fall.

I yelled a warning (“Get back!”) and ran to the safety of the recessed doorway that was behind me. The bully mistook my yell for a challenge, however, and came forward instead, determined to pound me. He was just fast enough that a chunk of ice larger than his head dropped right on top of his shoulders instead of the head in question; if he’d been any slower, it would probably have crushed his skull. As it was, the ice literally knocked him out cold.

Later on, I learned that he was telling people I’d lured him into a trap; this gave me an undeserved reputation as a dirty fighter. I didn’t like this, but at least it helped to keep bullies away – that and the fact that early growth spurts made me large for my age by puberty.

So by the end of 7th grade, the bully problem was pretty much over. My brother stopped beating other kids up; he felt I could take care of myself now. But though I wasn’t picked on too much any longer, there weren’t any real friends either. High school wasn’t going to be much fun. Fortunately, it didn’t work out that way; I transferred to my cousins’ high school, and I had friends there.

This was largely because of the same cousins, Walter and Randy. Although they liked to play pranks on me on a frequent basis, the pranks were rarely too distressing and sometimes they were enjoyable (especially if they didn’t involve public humiliation and especially not dress-up). It might sound as though Walter and Randy couldn’t have liked me all that much, considering the frequency of the pranks and also how often they simply tied me up and tormented me. However, I enjoyed the tie-up sessions in particular as much as they did and they knew it. And without them, and without their friends also becoming *my* friends, my high-school years would probably have been bleak and lonely due to my poor social skills.

One day in early April of my freshman year, I got a taste of what high-school life might have been like for me anywhere else. Julia was still ill from the flu, though she was recovering pretty well. Rusty had basketball practice (the season was about to end). Sho and my cousins had soccer practice (their season was about to begin). Ichiro had already driven home before I realized my other usual rides were unavailable. So I rode home from school on the bus; perhaps for the first time in weeks, as by that point I usually got a ride with somebody else. Oddly, though he was also on the soccer team and therefore should have stayed behind, my friend David was riding home on the bus too that day. If he told me why, I forgot the reason because of what happened on the way home.

David was sitting on a seat on the right side of the aisle and I was sitting across from him on the left. He and I were chatting pleasantly without a care in the world as the bus pulled away from the schoolyard, and I, at least, was pretty well oblivious to anybody or anything else. I suppose I *was* talking too loudly, but even so I was a bit surprised – and annoyed – when an older girl with copper-red hair (a junior or senior) in the seat directly in front of me turned around and rather rudely told me to shut up. I didn’t know this girl from Eve and I didn’t like her tone. If she’d asked politely, I’d have apologized and kept my voice lower. But she was so snide and the look in her bubble-gum-popping face so contemptuous that I was riled. So I gave her an exceptionally nasty (for me) response involving the “f” word and a word that starts with “b”.

I was turning back to resume talking to David and had just noticed an alarmed look in his eyes when all of a sudden the lights went out and all I saw was darkness and a multitude of swirling stars. At the same time I heard a meaty thump and felt a sudden pain in the left side of my jaw, and I slumped in my seat. When I recovered a moment later and looked dazedly around, everybody in my part of the bus was staring at me.

I was still trying to sort out what had happened when a deep voice bellowed angrily at me from the other (window) seat ahead of me. Previously unnoticed by me was a rather large (6’ 5” and probably 240 pounds – all muscle) senior with a bushy beard, and this individual was shaking a rather large fist at me. “Watch your mouth when you talk to a lady!” he told me fiercely. The “lady” in question gave me a satisfied (cat got the canary) smile at that point and turned back to face forward.

If the driver noticed anything, he did nothing about it; he kept right on driving.

Despite the fact that he was even larger than my older brother was (Ike was an inch or two taller but not quite as muscle-bound), I was tempted to tell that asshole what I thought of him and his lady-friend. Before I could commit such folly, David grabbed my shoulder, drew my attention away, and gave me a silent shake of the head. “Don’t mess with him!” he was silently telling me. Considering that the person in question was a lot bigger and more muscular than me – and no one seemed inclined to intercede on my behalf or remonstrate with him – I decided to take the prudent course for once and dropped the matter. David therefore probably saved me from a trip to the hospital.

David and I looked back, noticed that the back seat was empty, and we repaired to the back of the bus for a quiet powwow. “WTF happened?” I wanted to know, keeping my voice to a sullen whisper at David’s silent urging.

“That’s Buzzy Williams, the worst bully in school,” David told me. “Haven’t you ever seen him before?”

I’d heard of him and seen him around, but I hadn’t made the connection between the bad rep and the ugly mug that went with it. He wasn’t one of the students I’d talked to at the start of the school year when I’d ridden the bus for the first time. This wasn’t surprising; he definitely wasn’t friends with any of my friends, so whether or not he was on the bus the first day, I probably wouldn’t have been introduced to him.

As for his “lady" friend, her reputation was less than positive as well. Terms such as “b***h" or less polite words related to loose morals were frequently mentioned in connection with her. Based on my run-in with the “lady”, I can only say that her unflattering reputation was probably well-deserved. She’d actually gotten a kick out of her apish boyfriend sucker-punching me in the jaw! I don’t remember her name. But I’ve always thought of her as the witch, so I’ll call her Endora, even though the Endora from “Bewitched” was actually more pleasant.

Buzzy and Endora got off the bus at a stop halfway to where I lived, so thankfully they weren’t around to jeer at me when I got off the bus myself. I invited David to come over and visit, but he declined and stayed aboard as it drove off. Feeling unusually morose, I walked up the driveway and let myself into my aunt’s house. With nobody visiting and with my aunt at work and my cousins away, there was little to do but get a snack, watch some TV, and get an early start on my homework in case my cousins got into a “let’s tie Jason up” mood later on. That was one thing about the tie-up sessions; they made keeping up with homework more complicated.

My cousins didn’t come home until well after my aunt did, however, which was a bit unusual. They were also quiet and serious when they did come home, which was *very* unusual; most of the time, they were quite boisterous. I wondered what was bothering them, but I didn’t want to ask them about it where their mother could overhear. They didn’t seem inclined to talk anyway, so I let the matter lie and watched TV after finishing my homework.

Aunt Yvette noticed that things were unusually quiet as well. She asked the three of us if anything was wrong. I decided not to bring up the school bus incident and said everything was O.K. Walter and Randy said the same thing. Aunt Yvette looked at the three of us and then – as we didn’t seem to be angry at one another – dropped the matter.

That evening, after Aunt Yvette had gone to bed, I was watching the TV in my room when Walter knocked on my door. This was also unusual; when my cousins wanted something (which usually meant TuGs) they were accustomed to barging right in. I suspected that an elaborate ambush of some sort was in the works, so I opened the door but did so cautiously. I was prepared to retreat hastily, for all the good this would do me. But Walter and Randy just stood there in plain sight, wearing only their boxers and white tank-top T-shorts. They made no move to grab me. Instead, they politely asked if they could come in.

I lay on the bed, assuming that they wanted to tie me up and sit on me, but they did neither. They simply sat in the two chairs that the room was furnished with and looked at me. Then, after a short and uncomfortable pause, Walter said, a bit shortly, “So, you going to tell us what happened?!”

“About what?” I asked, honestly puzzled; I wasn’t thinking about the bus incident at all.

“About what happened on the bus ride home, idiot!” put in Randy crossly.

“It was nothing,” I replied, somewhat lamely; I was a bit embarrassed about it now.

“Not according to David it wasn’t!” said Walter. “He says you were all but knocked unconscious! Now tell us what happened!”

So I gave a brief account of the incident. Randy and Walter looked at each other, and Randy muttered some swear words under his breath. But I asked them not to make a big deal of it, figuring they’d try to tell a school official or something. Eventually I managed to steer the conversation to some other topic and we talked a while longer before they went off to bed. It was probably one of the longest talks I ever had alone with the two of them in the house without TuGs getting involved or even mentioned. But the main thing was they weren’t mad at me about anything; that’s all I cared about at the time.

By the next morning, I’d mostly forgotten about the school-bus incident, though I still felt some resentment towards Buzzy and Endora. My cousins didn’t forget about it, though. They went out of their way to be nice to me; they even made sure I never had to ride the bus again coming or going for the rest of the school year. The idea was apparently to keep me away from Buzzy. Next year wouldn’t be an issue; Buzzy was a senior, so he’d be gone after graduation in a few months.

I wasn’t really too worried riding the same bus with Buzzy or the witch Endora since it seemed likely they’d both forgotten about me, but for some reason my cousins thought otherwise. At any rate, thanks to their efforts, I never ran into Buzzy on the bus again. I never saw Endora again at all. Eventually my resentment faded and I rarely even thought about what had happened.

The following Saturday, Walter and Randy left the house soon after Aunt Yvette did, leaving me all alone in the house on a Saturday for the very first time. They didn’t so much as warn me that they were going, let alone invite me along. Rather annoyed and not feeling like being alone, I went out looking for someone to hang out with. I should have “reached out and touched someone” by phone first, because I soon discovered that none of my older friends were anywhere to be found and their usual haunts (such as the pond and tree-house) were totally deserted.

Sho and Ichiro weren’t home. Jirou and Michael were having a TuG together in Jirou’s backyard and they didn’t seem to want any extra company. Brian was visiting friends of his that I didn’t know. Al and Ron were away, Corey and Kevin were visiting Gordon, Gary was away, Rusty was nowhere to be found, and Julia was apparently recovered but had gone off somewhere…

It was like that day the previous summer when the smaller kids trapped me in the bondage board, only even they seemed unavailable this time. George and Morgan were home, though, and Tom was there visiting them, and they seemed happy enough to have me stay too – so I did. There weren’t any TuGs, because George’s parents were home too; we played Monopoly instead.

I’d hoped to catch Julia when she got home, but she called in the late afternoon saying that she was going to a nearby city with friends and wouldn’t be home until late that night. A bit disappointed, I went home hoping for some TuGs with Walter and Randy. But they still weren’t home either and in fact I spent all of Saturday night all by myself; the first time this had happened since I’d moved in with them. I even waited up for them but gave it up after around midnight. They came home sometime afterward when I was too tired and sleepy to care anymore.

The next morning Walter and Randy refused to say where they’d been, but at least they seemed to be in a good mood. We went to visit Ichiro, Sho, and Jirou, and then all six of us all went to the loft of their barn. The other five drew lots to see which three would spend the day being slaves to the other three (I volunteered to be one of the slaves, of course) and we played some fun bondage games. I ended up being Jirou’s slave, while Sho and Ichiro were enslaved to Walter and Randy for the day. I had so much fun that I soon forgot about my cousins’ mysterious behavior of the previous day – and I realized long afterward that this was exactly their intention.

About ten days later, I noticed a curious thing. I was walking down the hallway returning to class from a bathroom break when I saw Buzzy coming the other way. If he’d been built differently, I might not have recognized him because he had a crew-cut now instead of shoulder-length hair and he’d shaved; but his size was like no one else’s at school so it was hard *not* to recognize him.

I was prepared to give Buzzy a wide berth, but I didn’t try to avoid him. I was wary, but not afraid of another sucker-punch, so I kept right on going. The moment Buzzy saw me, though, he suddenly stopped and ducked into the library which he’d clearly been about to pass – as if remembering an urgent need for a book or something. I passed the library and happened to glance into it, and he was standing a short distance away watching the door intently; clearly waiting for me to pass by!

I couldn’t make heads or tails of this, but I just mentally shrugged and returned to class. I wasn’t especially eager for a meeting with Buzzy myself, after all!

A few days later, I was approaching the cafeteria with Al and Ron when we noticed Buzzy emerging from the same doorway that we were approaching. He looked up, saw us, and immediately went back the way he’d come to leave the cafeteria by one of the other two exits. Al made some apparently crude comment to Ron that I didn’t quite catch and laughed. I was curious, but I didn’t pursue the matter, as we’d reached the chow line by then.

A few days after that, I was leaving school with Ichiro (who was going to give me a ride home in his car) and we encountered Buzzy at an intersection. He would’ve cut right into our path but then he looked our way, saw me, and backed away like I was holding a gun on him. I looked at him in puzzlement, but he apparently mistook my look for something else. “Hey, man… I ain’t bothering you! You tell them that!” he said to me nervously, and then with a quick glance at Ichiro he all but ran off in the other direction.

I turned to look at Ichiro just in time to see him hide a satisfied smirk he’d had, and I was suddenly suspicious. “What the Hell is going on, Ichiro?” I asked him suddenly. “Why is he acting like I have the plague or something?”

“You mean no one told you?” Ichiro asked me with some amusement. Then, seeing that I was serious, he stopped smiling and tried to look inscrutable. “Umm… better ask your cousins. I don’t want them getting mad at *me*!” And then he snickered quietly at some private joke.

I was getting a little mad myself not knowing what was going on, but this didn’t seem to bother Ichiro too much and he drove me home without an explanation. So I waited and asked my two cousins about it when they got home, but they pretended they didn’t know what I was talking about.

When I pressed further that evening, they wrestled me down to the floor, tied me up, gagged me thoroughly and elaborately, and left me to my own devices for much of the rest of the night (fortunately, it wasn’t a school night).

Eventually, they let me go and ungagged me only on my (nodded) agreement that I’d drop the subject forever. They said that if I didn’t agree, they’d leave me tied up and gagged in my bedroom for the entire weekend (while Aunt Yvette visited my mother) except for meals and mercy breaks. I went along with it because being tied up alone isn’t as nearly much fun for me as being tied up with somebody around to keep me company, or at least to use me as furniture.

It wasn’t until a month after the last discussion with Walter and Randy that I finally learned what had happened. I was out on a date with Julia; we went to see a double feature at the drive-in (“Celebration at Big Sur” followed by “Escape From The Planet of the Apes”) when we happened to notice Buzzy walking to the concession stand from his own vehicle some distance away from us. He caught sight of me and quickened his steps. Julia smiled with amusement and I asked her what was so funny. She thought for a moment, decided that I had a right to know, and finally told me the story. Fortunately this was during the Big Sur movie, which I considered to be a waste of time. Julia’s story was much more interesting.

The day after the school-bus incident, Walter and Randy talked with Rusty, Al, Ron, Gary, Sho, Ichiro, and David individually at school (and called Julia at home while she was still out sick). They arranged to have a secret meeting at the school soccer field Saturday morning – a time and place where I’d never think for look for them or would be likely go to otherwise.

Some of the younger members like Brian and George also found out and wanted to come, but they were told that they’d be best off staying out of it. People weren’t told exactly what was going on, but they knew it involved me, and they were sworn to secrecy. I wasn’t to learn about this meeting, and I was to be kept diverted if need be so I wouldn’t interfere even accidentally.

At the meeting, Walter, Randy, and David explained what had happened to me on the bus. My cousins were furious about it, and my other friends were pretty upset too. Buzzy was detested by one and all, but he’d never bothered any of the club members seriously before. When he’d sucker-punched me, it had been an attack on the club and everybody in it.

They viewed this incident as especially serious because (as Julia paraphrased it) hitting me was like kicking a puppy. I’m unsure to this day just how to take that (after all, I wasn’t exactly weak or fragile at 6’ 1” and 180 pounds), but that’s how she said they saw it.

Part of it was that I never used my size to intimidate anyone and I generally had a mild nature (though not necessarily an inoffensive one thanks to my talent for saying the wrong things to the wrong people). Additionally, I think that my masochism may have given them the impression that I was a pushover; a defenseless individual on the same level as small children and old ladies.

Although I appreciated their concern for me, the implication that I was a helpless weakling annoyed me. Never mind that we were talking about somebody who was bigger and stronger than me (or anybody else at school); it rankled a bit.

Once my friends had gotten themselves properly worked up on my behalf (something I’d have appreciated more if they’d shared this all with me at the time rather than avoiding me), they decided to do something about it. They were going to teach Buzzy a lesson, and possibly Endora as well.

And this possible outcome is, of course, why Walter and Randy had decided to hide the meeting from me. They weren’t sure exactly how I’d react to the plan, but they figured that after the Myron fiasco (which had involved a *willing* victim), I’d disapprove, and they were probably right about that part.

Some of the club members were familiar enough with Buzzy and Endora’s habits to make trapping them that same evening simplicity itself. And this explains why I wasn’t able to find any of them that day or evening.

Unlike the Myron disaster, their plans went like clockwork this time; so I’ll just move on to the results of what must have been hours of careful scheming.

Buzzy and Endora were known to have a regular rendezvous point in a wooded area that was accessible only by a dirt road located a few miles away. There, after it got dark and they seemed to have privacy, they’d make out under the stars in the back of Buzzy’s pick-up truck.

I thought it was an ironic choice for a vehicle to “pick up” a girlfriend in, but I digress. A boy I didn’t know had seen Buzzy and Endora going at it not once but twice on different weekends. Luckily he wasn’t noticed by the two lovebirds, so they didn’t know that their secret hideaway was no longer a secret. This boy was a friend of Randy’s and had told him about the couple’s play station only a couple of weeks before.

In his usual mischievous manner, Randy had verified the facts for himself the following weekend. He’d been smart enough to keep his distance so that he wasn’t spotted, but he’d seen enough to confirm that this was a regular arrangement for the evil giant and the wicked witch. The fact that they spent time together in such an isolated spot made my friends’ plans much easier than they’d had any right to expect or hope for.

Anyway, Buzzy and Endora reached their favorite spot right about the time that they were expected (just before dark), where they talked together while listening to music on the radio. Then, when it got dark enough to suit them, they climbed out of the cab, crawled into the blanket-covered pickup bay, removed all of their clothes, and began their recreational activities. Though this was only April, it was a warm night, so they were comfortable enough. But not for long.

They were just hitting their stride when the flash of a camera gave them the first indication that they were no longer alone. It was Sho, and as soon as he took a compromising picture of Buzzy in action he ran down the wood trail like his life depended on it. Which it did, because Buzzy was immediately in full tear after him. However, though Buzzy was taller than Sho, he was heavier and couldn’t run as fast. Also, he was barefoot and naked, and Sho had his sneakers on. Sho had a fifty-foot head start as well. Most important of all, Buzzy didn’t have a naked guy twice his size screaming bloody murder and chasing after him like Sho did. The upshot of all this was that Sho kept ahead of Buzzy quite easily.

Then Sho suddenly seemed to slow down, allowing Buzzy to almost catch up. Buzzy yelled in triumph and continued forward, whereupon Ichiro jumped off a tree branch just over his head and landed right on top of him – knocking Buzzy flat on his front. Before he could gather whatever wits he had, he was suddenly surrounded by Walter, Randy, Rusty, Sho, Al, Ron, and David. In addition there were about four other rather large boys from the basketball and soccer teams who I didn’t know but who also had grievances against Buzzy.

Buzzy managed to throw off Ichiro (who was almost his height but much lighter in build) but couldn’t get to his feet before the others were on top of him. They quickly pounded him into submission… probably more thoroughly than strictly necessary but not enough to cause any significant damage.

Buzzy found himself secured by not one but three sets of handcuffs on his wrists behind his back and an equal number of leg irons; no one was taking any chances of *this* behemoth escaping before they were ready to let him go.

About the same time that Buzzy’s yells were fading into the distance as he chased Sho, Endora was facing difficulties of her own. She was rapidly trying to get her clothes back on when Julia, Melanie, and several other girls I didn’t know (most were juniors and seniors) appeared from out of the darkness and confronted her. Angry words were exchanged, and Endora tried to chase the other girls off. She slapped Julia, which was probably one of the dumbest moves she’d ever made in her life. Julia decked her. That’s how she put it when she told me about all this; Julia decked her with a simple punch to the jaw – something I have absolutely no trouble believing. Julia was one very tough young lady.

“That’s for the sock in the jaw Jason got because of you, b***h!” Julia snapped at the still-prone Endora. Then Julia rolled the semi-naked Endora on her stomach and handcuffed her like a cop arresting a felon while one of the other girls put leg irons on her. She’d been tempted to give Endora a few kicks in the bargain before pulling her to her feet, but she’d decided to not leave any marks that would show. Besides, she had a less-brutal but more satisfying revenge in mind.

Endora was as angry as she was disheveled and tried to bluff her way out of the situation. Naturally, she was promptly gagged (very tightly) with her own stockings. She tried to fight even after this, whereupon Julia threatened to knock her down and sit on her. What would have sounded like an offer of a good time to me cowed Endora however, and she stopped making trouble for her captors. Perhaps she was hoping Buzzy would soon return and get her out of this situation, since the others were making no attempt to take her anywhere.

She must have been disappointed when a mortified and securely-bound Buzzy was practically dragged back to the pickup truck by Walter and the others. The two of them were then told in no uncertain terms why their fun night out was being interrupted and that they were going to learn that it didn’t pay to mess around with me. They also made it clear that I was unaware that all this was happening, and that any attempt to get back at me for it would be a bad idea.

As it turned out, Endora’s father was a rather forbidding fellow; even more so than Buzzy. He didn’t like his daughter going out with Buzzy one bit, but was unaware that the two of them were sexually active. Sho had Buzzy over a barrel with the photograph he’d taken. If Endora’s father saw the photograph, Buzzy’s life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel. And the photograph would indeed find its way to the man if Buzzy or Endora spoke to the authorities about the events of this evening. As it happened, Endora was even more concerned about this than Buzzy was; her father had threatened to turn her out of his house if he ever learned she was sleeping around.

Buzzy was given the world’s worst haircut. By the time his captors finished cutting his hair, he looked like someone with snakes for hair; long sections were shaved off while others were left preserved. What was left uncut was smeared with motor oil. I never got to see the results myself, but Julia said that he looked utterly ridiculous. His beard was given the same treatment, and he wound up looking like something from a horror movie.

As for Endora, who I was told was inordinately fond of her long, copper-red hair; Julia’s friends considered shaving her bald – which would have made her look vaguely like Ilia from “Star Trek the Motion Picture” eight years later. But Julia was saner (and less vindictive), and they settled for plastering Endora’s hair with so much mud and motor oil that her hair as virtually ruined anyway. This at least could be passed off as an accident to anyone (such as her father) she had to explain awkward matters to… unlike a shaving (which could only be explained as the result of an assault).

My friends weren’t done with these two just yet, though. Endora was tied to a tree and left to the tender mercies of Julia and the other girls (who apparently slapped her quite a bit but nothing worse). Buzzy was mummified with duct tape in addition to the other restraints. A towel was tied around his waist since no one wanted to look at his ‘naughty bits’. Then he was bundled into the back of his own pickup truck and covered up with the blankets he and Endora had been lying on. Walter, Al, Randy, and Sho sat on top of him while Rusty got into the driver’s seat and drove it away.

Walter and the other boys did their best to make Buzzy’s life pure hell while they leisurely drove to a city about twenty miles away. Gary and Ichiro had their own cars nearby and drove behind Buzzy’s pickup - ferrying the other boys who weren’t tormenting the living daylights out of Buzzy.

The trip couldn’t have taken more than 45 minutes, but to Buzzy it probably seemed like forever before they reached their destination. The pickup (followed by the two escorting cars) was driven to a long, deserted alleyway in the run-down section of that city. There Buzzy was freed of all but one set of (old, rusted, and long unused) hobbles and handcuffs and given a blanket to cover himself up with. The keys to his cuffs were tossed to the far side of the dark alley, he was told he’d find the pickup truck back where he’d parked it (along with Endora still gagged and tied to the tree).

Barefoot and struggling to keep covered with the blanket he was left with (he didn’t have so much as undershorts on underneath), Buzzy was left to stagger to the far end of the alleyway after those keys while the others drove off and left him stranded there. At the last minute though, Julia and the others apparently relented a bit – perhaps worried that Buzzy was certain to get arrested in his current state and the whole revenge plot exposed however reluctant Buzzy was to reveal it. So when they reached the end of the alleyway, they also dumped out Buzzy’s clothes and shoes from the bed of the pickup (where Buzzy himself had fortuitously left them when he’d taken them off) before driving off. They weren’t charitable enough to leave his wallet (with his driver’s license and money in it) though.

Meanwhile, Endora was getting the royal beauty treatment courtesy of Julia and Melanie. This included a good deal of mud applied liberally all over her body to match her hair. Anyway, Julia and Melanie took some pictures once they were done. I eventually saw the pictures, and I remember that Endora looked like a thinned-down Swamp Thing, only angrier.

Even once he got his hands and legs freed and got his clothes and shoes back on, it must have been difficult for Buzzy to make his way back home again on foot, without money and looking worse than Frankenstein’s monster in the bargain. Walking along at night, he must have aroused the panic of many a passing driver even on the back roads. He managed it somehow, however, because there was always someone to keep an eye on Endora throughout the night and it was reported that an unkempt, footsore and utterly exhausted Buzzy came to rescue her sometime just before noon Sunday morning.

If Buzzy looked like Frankenstein, Endora looked like the Bride of Frankenstein (with an even more unsightly hairdo) after a night alone with the girls and, later on, just the mosquitoes. The two of them weren’t in the mood for any more love-making, of course, so they promptly drove off in the truck that Buzzy’s captors had left there (keys still in the ignition). Their revenge didn’t extend to grand larceny or damaging his vehicle or tires in any way; the humiliation he must have endured was deemed sufficient. Even his wallet (with all his money still in it) had been left on the driver’s seat.

To make sure that there was as little incriminating evidence as possible, Walter and the others had been wearing gloves at all times, so that they’d leave no fingerprints. This precaution turned out to be unnecessary, however; Buzzy and Endora kept their mouths shut and the police were never informed of the matter. Additionally, Endora never showed her face around school again. I don’t know if she dropped out, transferred to a different school, or was able to do makeup work in order to advance or graduate. No one I knew ever told me what happened; nor did I particularly care.

I was a bit dismayed when Julia told me all this though, finishing up just as the dull Big Sur movie ended and the more lively Planet of the Apes movie was about to begin. I didn’t feel sorry for Buzzy or his snotty girlfriend, but I felt troubled that my friends had risked getting into a lot of trouble to avenge a simple sock to the jaw. But Julia told me they were glad to do it and she kissed me. Then she (gently) told me to shut up and watch the movie or she’d gag me. I shut up; gagging is fine, but I’m not really into public humiliation. Private humiliation is a different matter, of course.

When I got home, I told Walter and Randy that I knew what had happened and I tried to thank them. They said you’re welcome, wrestled me to the floor, tied me up, sat on me in just their boxer shorts for a while, and then they left me tied up and gagged in bed until morning.

Life would have been dull and a lot less fun without those two. If it weren’t for them, I’d have been a lot less happy during adolescence. I miss them, and I miss those days.

Buzzy did his best to stay the hell away from me for the rest of the school year. Then he graduated and apparently moved out of town. With or without Endora, I don’t know. I never heard anything about either of them ever again.

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Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby Jay Feely » Mon Oct 11, 2010 10:08 am

Buzz learned his lesson real good. You should be grateful for having brothers and cousins that is there for you in the heep of trouble.
You will have to subdue me to restrain me. I been a bad boy so make sure you torture me too with anything but pain.

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby sarumansauron » Mon Oct 11, 2010 10:41 am

Excellent continuation! Thanks!
I love TUGS and TICKLING Torture!!!!!

Re: Captive Of Teenaged Cousins III: The High School Years M

Postby xtc » Mon Oct 11, 2010 12:02 pm

A somewhat different episode and none the worse for that.
Thanks, Jason.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

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