The 12 Trials of Harrison: 3. Enslaved

Postby PeterPan » Thu Aug 01, 2013 12:14 pm

3. Enslaved

Part 1: viewtopic.php?f=37&t=20982
Part 2: viewtopic.php?f=37&t=20986

Thanks for the positive feedback. Hopefully I'll be able to write out all the parts of my experience in a short period of time. :)

Thank goodness I did my own laundry, or else my mom might have wondered exactly what her sixteen-year-old son was doing wearing cartoon underpants. It was hard enough to know that when I was sitting with my mom, or with my friends, I was one layer of clothing away from showing off what a child I looked like. Of course, I could have just worn my regular boxers, since it wasn't like the twins were in my bedroom each morning, but by this point I was too nervous to disobey, and I'm sure glad that I didn't.

Sometime in the middle of the next week, I was doing one of my usual biking trips around the neighborhood. (Biking was basically all I did in the summer when other options weren't available.) I was on my way back to the apartment when I noticed Valerie in her yard. I'm guessing she was there to turn on a sprinkler or something, but I never got to find out. When she saw me, her face split into a wide grin, and she quickly rushed out to the street and motioned for me to stop.

What could I do? I braked to a stop in front of her. Without a word, she came around behind me and pulls back on my pants, checking the cartoon undies on my butt. I was too embarrassed to move or say anything, but she just smiled, said "Good," and patted my bum to send me on my way.

This was the first time that it occurred to me that Valerie might have made me wear the underwear just so she'd have an excuse to look at my body.

But a lot of these thoughts were beginning to cluster in my mind. It was obvious to me by now that, despite having the looks of a prepubescent, these two girls were attracted to me. Not because I looked like a kid, but in spite of it. And maybe it had something to do with the tying up as well. Either way, they certainly treated me differently when I was with them one-on-one. Keesha was more quiet and forceful, and she seemed to enjoy the tying and the torture more than the interaction with me. She was content with putting me in inescapable positions and making me uncomfortable, but that was all she derived pleasure from. Valerie, on the other hand, seemed to be a bit more into the dramatics of the thing, using the tying as an excuse for the journey rather than a means unto itself. I had a feeling that she might decide to cuddle all night long as opposed to tying me up at the drop of a hat.

So both girls were infatuated with me. And at the time, I had no idea which one I like more. Or rather, to be more accurate, I didn't know which one I could tolerate the most.

Not that Keesha didn't have her sense of drama. For example, I found myself on the next Friday evening tied up against a wall, barely wearing anything, and with a number drawn on my chest.

Keesha had invited me inside with her usual lack of fanfare or greeting, directing me upstairs immediately. Without consulting me at all, she had pulled off my shirt and pants, leaving me, as I was now used to, in just my underwear.

She had scoffed at the cartoon designs. "I don't know why my sister wants you to wear that."

I looked at the ground. "I...guess she thinks I look cute."

"Well, you do." Keesha had laughed when I looked up at her in shock. "But it's definitely not the look I want for you today. Hold your arms up."

Instead of slipping something over my head like I thought, she instead began wrapping a piece of cloth around my waist. It was off-white and a bit ratted. I squirmed a couple of times when she drew the fabric between my legs but otherwise stood still. When she was done, there was no sign of the underwear I had on. The loincloth that Keesha had fashioned for me appeared to be the only thing I was wearing.

"I'd have just stripped you naked, but I don't think you're ready for that," she said casually. "Yet."

I gulped.

"Cross your arms in front of you." For the first time, I got to see Keesha wrapping the ropes around me. It looked a lot more complicated than I had originally thought, and I was barely able to keep up with the twists and turns. I could tell instantly when she tied off the knot that once again there would be no escape. Well, unless she turned around long enough for me to pick out the knot with my teeth.

I wouldn't even get a chance to do that. Keesha went to work on my ankles next. When she was satisfied with them, she crossed the room and began to stack large dictionaries in a pile against the wall. Before I could ask what she was doing, she returned to me, picked me up under my armpits, and set me standing up on the books. She lifted my arms above my head, and I felt something sliding in between my wrists. I looked up to see my bound hands draped over one of the hooks in the wall that surrounded the room. The hook was long enough that, although with the books I could still stand on my full feet, I wasn't able to slip the ropes off and pull my arms down.

"Comfy?" Keesha asked me, a little teasing in her voice.

"A little...vulnerable," I answered, trying to smile. As long as I was going along with being these girls' prisoner, I might as well enjoy it a little.

Keesha laughed. "Good. That's how it's supposed to be." Taking out a permanent marker, she began carefully writing a number in the center of my torso (I learned later that it was the number on the barcode I already had around my neck). I had to bite my lip and concentrate really hard to avoid jolting away from the ticklish pen.

Finally, the writing was finished. Keesha blew on it once, looked me up and down, and said, "All right, you're my slave for the day. I'll be back."

And here I was, strung up with no place to go. I twisted my wrists and tried to put enough weight on my feet to get off the hook, but it was no good. I was also nervous of the books, which had shifted slightly under me when I gave a particularly hard twist. I didn't want to lose my balance and leave all of my weight hanging from my wrists.

Keesha left me there for quite a while. I was beginning to realize that just knowing that I was tied up seemed to please her. I could only imagine what kinds of things were running through her brain as she sat in some other room.

Soon, though, she returned, carrying a small piece of paper with her. "Here's how it's going to work, buddy. It's almost 6 now. You're going to be up on that hook until 8. Then I'll take you down and you're going to start doing the slave tasks I've outlined for you on this list." She waved it in front of me. "Good news it, you get to choose three that you don't have to do. Bad news is that for each chore you opt out on, I remove one of the books beneath you."

I gulped again. Getting out of some chores sounded nice in the long run, but losing the support I had on my feet would be a painful thing to endure for a couple hours. I resolved to try and accept every chore that I could.

Keesha started reading from the list. At first, they weren't so bad: cook her breakfast in the morning, vacuum the living room, wash the dishes. I chose to accept all three. Then the fourth one came: "Wash, dress, and prepare Connor for the day." I had to directly say no to that one. The kid wasn't too bad, but I wasn't going to be his personal servant. It would just be too embarrassing.

True to her word, Keesha removed one of the books below my feet. I was now only half able to stand, and the strain began to apply to my wrists. I decided that I had to accept whatever else she suggested.

The tasks just got weirder after that. "Dust the house with a duster attached to your hip." "Organize all the movies by the costumers first name." I even said yes to "Clean out the toliet bowel, though the idea disgusted me. I didn't want to waste another opting out opportunity when it was already bad enough.

But then, the eighth task came. "Mow the lawn."

"Hold on a sec," I protested. "You can't ask me to do that!"

Keesha lowered her list. "And why not?"

"Well...look at how I'm dressed. I'm not going to go out in public like this."

Sighing, Keesha patted my cheek. "Harry, you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. You're the slave, remember?"

I grumbled under my breath.

"Do you want to skip this one then."

I sullenly nodded my head.

"Fair enough," she replied, pulling another book out from beneath me. I could barely stand on my toes at this point.

"Number nine," she continued reading. "You must give me a full body massage while you wear nothing at all."

"Oh, come on, no way!" I spat out without thinking.

"Fair enough," she said, reaching for the last book.

"No, wait--"

But she didn't. With a tug, she had me completely suspended in the air. "All right, that's all you can choose not to do. See you in a couple hours, kid." She patted my cheek, stuck a piece of duct tape over my mouth, and left the room.

I felt myself swing back and forth by my wrists as the minutes passed slowly. I feared at first that the weight would cut off the circulation to my hands, but apparently Keesha knew her knots better than that, because I didn't feel any numbing at all. Still, it was far from a cozy predicament, and I began to silently plead for the seconds to tick by faster. I'd do anything to have Keesha get me out of this, even mow her lawn in a loincloth.

Finally, blessing of blessings, Keesha returned. "How's my strung up little slave?" she asked. "Ready to get down?"

I nodded my head frantically.

"What was that?" she asked teasingly, lightly tickling under one of my exposed armpits.

I moaned so violently that I ripped the duct tape off of my mouth. "Please!" I yelped.

Laughing, she took my wrists in her hand and lowered me down. Man, I was so glad to get down from there! Immediately I wanted to do whatever she asked to avoid going up there again. That was probably what she was trying to do in the first place.

She set me about doing some of the chores she had assigned to me, hampered only by a much more effective gag and my wrists tied in front of me. The hip-dusting activity turned out to be more ridiculous looking than I had imagined, and took longer as well. I had only managed to do that and clean the toilets when she came up to me and told me that she was going to bed.

"But not before you give me the chore that I've been looking forward to," she added.

I must have looked confused, because she pulled out the list of chores and pointed to the tenth item, which I hadn't even been allowed to see until now:

"You must give Keesha a deep foot massage."

I moaned through my gag, but Keesha wouldn't have anything of it. Soon I found myself at the foot of her bed, massaging her bare feet as she lay back in her pajamas. They were definitely cute feet, and not at all smelly, but still, I felt demeaned having been assigned this lowly task.

Halfway through the massage, Keesha leaned forward and undid my gag. I thought at first that she was rewarding me for a good job until she said, "All right, slave. Now lick them."

"But--" I protested.

"Now!" she yelled, raising her hand. Scared, I leaned forward and began licking between her toes, sucking on one or two for good measure. "That's better, slave." She responded, lying back again. I found myself worshipping her feet for a full half hour more before she dismissed me to get some shut-eye. I still tasted her sweaty skin hours later.

"Now you go ahead and keep working until all the chores are done," Keesha said. "And don't try anything tricky, or you'll regret it."

So while my "master" slept, I spent the rest of the night cleaning the house. Once again, the rest of the tasks took longer than I expected them to, especially with my hands tied and my mouth now regagged. Still, I didn't dare disobey, tired as I was. I didn't hear Valerie return home from work or go to bed, but I figured that was just as well. As the sun was peeking through the window, I was in the kitchen, trying to put my less-than-talented skills to the oven to prepare a meal.

I had to start over twice, but luckily my breakfast of bacon and eggs was ready by the time Keesha wandered downstairs. Throughout the entire meal she didn't even acknowledge that anyone was serving her. The only time she made eye contact was when she was exiting the house, and that was only to casually wink and smile at me before she left.

That girl certainly had a strange sense of enjoyment.

Then again, I thought, so did her sister.

It was in the middle of washing the dishes when the idea came over me. In rational thought I never would have attempted it, but tired from working all through the night and frustrated by this whole experience, I decided to act. Valerie still wasn't up, and Keesha was gone. I had a prime chance to escape now while the coast was clear.

I quickly began to peel away at the tape/sock gag Keesha had put on me before heading to bed. The sock was soaked and disgusting, but I didn't care, grateful to get a little bit of fresh air into my lungs. Then I raised the knot to my mouth and picked at my wrist bindings with my teeth. Keesha had certainly done a good job, there was no doubt about that, but finally the rope loosened. I stretched my arms, then looked around, trying to decide the best course of action.

Figuring that the back sliding door made less noise when opened, I headed to the living room to try it out. It was only when I already had half a leg out the door and the cool morning air chilled my skin that I remembered that my only clothing was a loincloth. Drat, I had left my clothes somewhere in the house. But where?

"HARRY? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

I jumped and turned around sheepishly. There was Valerie, wearing a green nightdress and a horribly angry look on her face.

"I was just...." But before I could come up with some excuse or other, Valerie had grabbed me by the hand and dragged me over to the couch. It was clearly obvious that I was untied, and I didn't for once think that she'd accept that her sister had done it.

"You were told to be a good boy and do was Keesha asked. She leaves for two minutes and you're about to go outside, bare like this no less!" As she yelled, she was unwrapping the cloth from around me, exposing my underwear once again. There was a twak against my butt as she spanked me, and I yelled in pain. She continued spanking as she said, "I expected better of you. You can't go running off like that. We had an agreement."

By the time she was finished, my bum was pure red, and I was crying in spite of myself from the pain. I hardly even noticed as Valerie turned me over and cuddled me to her as my sobs rocked my body. As the pain died down, I felt myself slipping into sleep. The night awake had done me in. I faded into blackness.

When I woke up, it was mid-afternoon, at least according to the sun I could see through the window. I was in someone's bedroom, a little boy's by the look of it, and a quick mental calculation revealed to me that it must be Connor's. I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and noticed with a start that I was fully clothed again.

In orange shorts and a purple Barney T-shirt.

I groaned and looked over at the nightstand. A folded over note sat there. Gingerly (my butt still hurt) I reached over and picked it up, reading:

"Harry-

Sorry for going so overboard on you. I hope you learned your lesson. But oh, you were just so precious sleeping in my arms that I couldn't bear to wake you. Work called and is going to need both of us there until late, so you can leave as soon as you wake up. I dressed you in some of Connor's old things, since I couldn't find your normal clothes. Oh, and Keesha told me to tell you that you have to keep the number on your chest at all times. Kisses!

Valerie."

I read the letter a few times through. It bothered me how casually Valerie acted. The way she said things, it sounded as if all the events of the day had been spontaneous. But I knew that she knew perfectly well where my old clothing was and just wanted to embarrass me further by dressing me in these things. And I had a sneaking suspicion that the spanking had been more about making me feel little than punishing me for disobeying.

Sighing, I climbed out of the bed and exited the house. These girls had me held tighter still in their web. There was nothing I could do but go home and prepare for our next meeting in the next weekend.

Well, not much I could do, at least. I did turn the Barney shirt inside-out before I went home. ;)

Re: The 12 Trials of Harrison: 3. Enslaved

Postby NemesisPrime » Thu Aug 01, 2013 2:26 pm

Very nice continuation!

Still have my fingers crossed for diaper and Cub Scout uniform!

One question though, why is this in fictional TUGs if this really happened?
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!

Re: The 12 Trials of Harrison: 3. Enslaved

Postby PeterPan » Thu Aug 01, 2013 2:47 pm

Well, most of the events happened at one time or another, but I dramatized them and change some of the details, so I figured that since it wasn't entirely true, it ought to be here. Plus I couldn't post in the True TUGs section for a while anyway. ;)

Re: The 12 Trials of Harrison: 3. Enslaved

Postby thedarkdefender » Sat Aug 17, 2013 4:39 am

Amazing story! And incredibly well written :)