For some reason, I was not able to post this into the old thread, which contains parts 1 and 2.
PART THREE
The sun was hovering near the horizon by the time we made camp, on a verdant hillside nestled in a bend of the river. It was hardly the elysian field Rachel had described; but at the end of a long hike over steep ridges and precipitous gorges, it was close enough. She, Beth and I waited patiently as the men reconnoitred the site. Only then were we untethered, untied and ungagged. After shedding my backpack, I spat out some lint, exercised my jaws and massaged my wrists. Alex laughed.
“Don’t get used to it,†he warned.
“Oh no,†Beth sighed, as my brother seized my arms, turned me around and bound my wrists behind my back. Matt did the same for Rachel, and I wondered how Beth would respond; but she meekly surrendered. She wasn’t going to show it, but I think she was starting to enjoy the game.
After a hard day’s trekking we were filthy, the mud-plastered Rachel in particular, from her tumble over the log in the forest. So one of the guys suggested we needed a bath. We were marched to the edge of the river and made to kneel, as Matt, Alex and Rick played “paper rock scissors†to decide which of us should be freed to wash the other two girls. Rick won, which was probably a good thing. Beth’s delight as she was untied was palpable. I also detected in her eyes a glimmer of vengeful glee. After all, Rachel and I were responsible for her day of tied-up torment.
The guys took front-row seats on a grassy mound, as Rachel and I were ordered into the water. Beth did a thorough job – maybe a little too thorough, what with the lathering and the rinsing and the scrubbing and all. After that, Beth volunteered to cook dinner, a nice tactical manoeuvre to avoid a return to the ropes. Since the temperature was dropping, we were allowed to swap our bikinis for something more appropriate; but the fun and games were not over for Rachel and me. Matt and Alex played with us for an hour or so, trying out all sorts of tie-ups and gagging techniques, impressing each other and our audience – Rick, Oz and Hamish – with their knowledge and skill. I could have spoilt their chest-thumping by reminding them who had taught them most of their tricks, but sometimes you just gotta let the boys have their fun.
Despite all we had been through, I was sort of hoping we would be kept tied up during dinner; but I wasn’t going to be the one to suggest it, and I think the lads were feeling a twinge of conscience about how we’d been treated. Apart from maybe my brother, they were still having trouble getting their heads around the fact that it was us much our game as it was theirs.
Following the meal, it was time to work out the sleeping arrangements. We had left the tents behind –our luck held out and it didn’t rain – and we had just the four sleeping bags. Everyone agreed that Rick and Beth should have one of them. That made me suspicious, because Matt didn’t volunteer to share with me but instead ceded his place to Rachel. I don’t know who took the other two. I do know that the guys didn’t share. (And it’s funny, I suppose, how it was quite natural to everyone that two girls should share a sleeping bag, but no way – NO WAY! – would two guys. But that’s another issue.)
My paranoia was confirmed once Rachel and I were snuggled cosily inside the bag. Suddenly we found ourselves set upon. At first the guys tried to carry us off; but we were squirming wildly and they kept losing their grip. However, one of our assailants did have the presence of mind to keep the bag zipped shut so we couldn’t use our arms in our defence. Only when the boys gave up the attempt to move us did we stop struggling.
“What now?†Rachel demanded.
“Take off your clothes,†came the reply.
“In here?â€
“Well, if you’d rather we let you out first...â€
“Let’s just do it,†I said.
So we stripped inside the sleeping bag, not so easy when there are two of you squeezed in there. We handed each piece of discarded clothing to Alex, who simply tossed it onto a pile on the ground nearby. Once we were naked, I thought the fun was over; but the guys started trussing us with rope, until we were squashed – or more accurately squished – into a mutual embrace, with arms and legs entangled, curves and crevices interlocked. We were lying literally cheek-to-cheek, and Rachel’s hair, long and silky, was in my face, tickling my nose and getting into my nostrils.
That’s how we spend the night, trapped naked inside our sleeping bag, pressed together. You get to know each other very well like that. Every wiggle and every wriggle becomes an adventure with your partner’s body. Somehow I managed to fall asleep, and did I have some interesting dreams.
In the morning, Alex removed the rope and Beth gave us our clothing. We dressed inside the bag. This was even more difficult and complicated than the undressing, and we had to choreograph our actions to prevent further awkwardness. When we were finished, Rachel said to me, “Well, thank you for the interesting night.â€
“Don’t thank me,†I answered. “Thank them.†The boys were at the other end of our campsite, paying no attention. We emerged from our cocoon, stretching and flexing our cramped and aching muscles.
With breakfast done, it was time to move on. Today’s trek would traverse more even ground than we had covered in the last two, but we still had about twelve hours of solid marching ahead of us. As Rachel, Beth and I got ready, the boys were disappointed to see that we weren’t in our bikinis; but after yesterday’s ordeal, that was very much out of the question. I opted for khaki shorts and a singlet top. I was about to put on a long-sleeved shirt, but Matt (in his long-sleeved shirt) vetoed that. Well, if I was going to be his little captive camper, I should be an obedient one.
Then came the moment of truth. Matt held up the rope and I put out my hands. Rachel giggled and did likewise. Everyone looked to Beth. After considering each of us in turn, she shrugged her shoulders in silent assent. As Rick began winding the cord around his girlfriend’s wrists, however, she declared that she wouldn’t wear the gag. The boys conferred, and Alex announced that only one of us would have to. Rachel and I glanced at each other. There had to be a catch. Rachel, normally so inscrutable, actually snarled like a caged beast as the wad was jammed into her mouth. Nevertheless, I was still worried about that catch.
Novelty being the spice of life, the guys found a different way to tether us today. Rachel’s bound wrists were tied to the back of my rucksack. Beth was secured to Rachel’s. I had a bad feeling that I was going to complete the circle and we would be forced to walk the entire way like that, the three of us engaged in a sort of continuous pirouette as we alternated between hobbling forwards, sideways and backwards. And had the boys been more imaginative, I’m sure they would have come up with that. But they didn’t, and I was not the one to give them ideas.
Instead, Matt tied another rope to my wrists and passed it between my legs, to attach it to a halter around Rachel’s neck. He drew it fiendishly tight, and I was glad I hadn’t worn my bikini briefs. And so we set off, Matt and Alex leading the column, us girls in the middle bound to each other, the other guys trailing behind. Rachel probably had the worst of it, and not just because of her gag. It was hard for her to see where she was going, and she was continually jostled and thrown off balance whenever either Beth behind or I in front took a misstep. Of course, we were all in this together. When any one of us faltered, we all felt the consequences. My crotch-rope didn’t make it any easier. Before long, we were near exhaustion just from the effort of concentration needed to keep our footing.
Naturally, being a bound captive is no fun if you cannot taunt and tease your captors. In that respect, Matt and Alex provided me with more than ample ammunition, as they intermittently got us lost, following the wrong trail. I called out the appropriate insults and gratuitous advice, knowing I was playing with the proverbial fire. I expected to be put back on the leash, but Matt had a better idea... well, maybe not better from my point of view. He turned and stomped up to us, but he bypassed me and released Rachel from her gag.
With the now familiar “Open wide, love,†he held up the ball of wool-sock, still wet from being in Rachel’s mouth. I gurgled a forlorn and futile protest as he pushed it into place. Well, I deserved it, I suppose.
The sun was still quite low in the eastern sky. We had been on the march for less than two hours. This was going to be another long and interesting day.
End of Part Three.