PART VII
As James rounded the corner from the kitchen, Bruce grabbed the wrist irons and stuffed some locks into his jeans, and stood behind the door going into the kitchen. As James came out—two beers in hand—Bruce tackled James, causing him to crash, beers and all, to the carpeted floor with a loud thud. My kidnapper looked quite dazed, which gave 220lb. Bruce enough time, once he was straddling James’ ass, to grab his left wrist and twist it behind his back, like a v-shape. James yelled: “Ouch!” as Bruce snapped the 3 x ½” iron handcuff rapidly padlocked in place. This was followed rapidly by the right cuff being yanked across to James’ right wrist, which he resisted capturing. Bruce pulled on the left wrist chain, so James gave up and allowed Bruce to secure the other heavy metal cuff—“click!”
“Bruce, what the Hell! What are you doing?” as Bruce laughed and grabbed the leg irons and locks, quickly grabbing James’ left booted leg, collaring it and snapping the heavy-duty locks in place; two resounding “CLICK! CLICK!” spelled the death knell to James’ freedom.
Unless James could still speak. Maybe he felt he could outwit my old bodyguard. “Can we make a deal?” he pleaded with Bruce, who was grabbing the final piece of heavy iron —the 4” x ½” rigid metal collar—hinged with the heavy duty lock finishing it off—“CLICK!!!” James felt the thick, constricting collar immediately as his face seemed to begin to turn red.
“BRUCE! Get it off, please? Can’t take this freakin' thing strangling me!”
“Sure, wai 'til I get you gagged. Talk to me James? Tell me what you want? Tell me the truth!” he intoned, reaching over to grab the Rust-Oleum duct tape. James said nothing, his eyes wide, seeing exactly where Bruce was headed. It was not long before Bruce ripped off an end from the roll and began to unwind about four feet of tape, around and around James’ growingly more silent pleas for help. “MMMPPPPHHH! Muuummmpppp! Mmmmffffhhhrrrrgggg….”
James was now chained up completely, with the damn collar choking him, the duct tape gag, preventing his cries for help, and each limb cuffed and chained to each other. It looked like sweet revenge to me. Now if only I could get Bruce to let me go. I watched intently as Bruce took several more locks—all a heavy gold metal Master lock—a matched set you would have to say—and proceeded to shorten each chain considerable, to the point that James was now in a very constricted hogtie—but this time not soft rope but unyielding metal. Clang, clank!” Sweet revenge no matter what happens I thought.
Poor James—in his tight red t-shirt, tight jeans and black Engineer type boots-- is struggling to find a way out, or at a minimum a way to rest. For now he’s struggling like a banshee. At this rate he’s be exhausted in about five minutes, ten the most.
Bruce suddenly is standing in front of me. He leans down to my eye-level and gazes into my eyes for what seems like an Eternity, and finally averts his incredibly sexy eyes to my mouth. He reaches up and catches the end of the last piece of tape James had gagged me with earlier, and pulls this off quickly. My bound lips now fall forward, out of their duct tape constriction. And I say:
‘Water, please!” Bruce leans backwards and says, “I got something even better,” snapping open two beers, holding one to his lips and gulping probably half the bottle in 15 seconds. He reaches over and grabs some of the rope wrapped around me and the chair, pulling me forward, tilting the chair, and gentle places the bottle up to my lips. I gulp it down fast—faster than water perhaps, because I want whatever is going to happen so bad now. And I have no real idea what that might be.
“Holy Batman!” I blurt out after gulping the brew. James pulls my face closed to his using his two powerful hands—those hands that saved my life so many years ago-- and slowly closes his eyes. We are now breathing each other’s air.
“Haaaaaaaaa…” I gulp, as he kisses my beer moistened lips in a passionate embrace. I feel like the gag is back on, but it’s more like something alive. My eyes close—shocked most likely, but strangely enjoy the moment. Time stops. All I hear are James’ chains rattling, with occasional “mmppphhh!” in the background.
Bruce’s right hand runs over the ropes binding my wrists and feels each hand’s fingers and asked me earnestly, any pain, or tingling?” I tell him no, but ask him to undo the rest of James’s devious gag. He quickly removes the tape, unwinding it carefully from my silent mouth with his tender touch. “How’s that buddy? You better now?”
“Thanks Bruce, you saved me again. You are my Guardian Angel that’s for sure.”
“Don’t mention it. After all, you did give me plenty of wonderful blowjobs when we were younger, remember?”
I was blushing fiercely now. (OH, yeah, I forgot to tell you I paid Bruce back in trade. So sue me!).
“Tell me Hiro, where did you meet my friend James?” as he kicked at James’ bound boots, toppling him over onto his side. James looked pissed and he started grumbling.
“Shut up, idiot! Can’t you see you hurt my friend, Hiro? Now you’ve got to pay!"
I did not answer his question as he untied me quickly—almost expertly you might say—now where did he learn how to do that? Is he in the Navy?
“OK Hiro, try standing up now,” he said, grabbing me by the waist round my hips, guiding my now free body over past James to the sofa, where he parachuted me to the soft orange cushions.
“Hey, I was pretty stiff being tied like that. Thanks a million Bruce. I owe you one—you choose the prize, OK?”
“Careful kid, you might be asking more than you can bargain for,” He responded, eyebrows leaping upwards and smile across his mouth as wide as the Grand Canyon.
I changed the subject quickly, saying, “What do we do with James?”
Without missing a beat, Bruce said, “that’s up to you Hiro. You’re the one with the bondage agreement for one year, right?”
It quickly dawned on me that Bruce was right. James could now be my personal slave. Hot dog!
![408935_119142481540520_100003343075998_99829_672975018_n[1].jpg](./download/file.php?id=5070)
- Hiro's dream of what to do to James
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