Discovered!
The following is the first chapter of Nicolas H’s saga called The Boys’ Knotty Summer. His stories hold a special place in my heart, as they helped me to find who I really was as I was growing up. I hope you, the dear reader, will find them as delightful as I do.
To begin with my story, I should introduce myself at the time as a 14 year old male, athlete-slim, just as tall as any normal kid, with short brown hair and green eyes. While I look like the average Latin boy, at the same time I don’t (mom is a foreigner with German ancestry).
During one of my many summer vacation’s afternoons, I was invited by my cousin to sleep over. Tyler (13) is a little bit different; he is shorter than me, has darker skin, black eyes and hair. We had already played tie-up games together but this was a special occasion I’ll never forget.
Around 3 pm, my mom dropped me off at my uncle’s house, a two-story building where there’s nothing much to do than play soccer, cards or watch TV (no computer though), but we managed to have fun anyway. Tyler had only one brother, who was 10 years older than him, so he never got into - neither knew about - our games. Tyler answered the door, said hello and I followed him right into the kitchen where he was washing some dishes.
“My mom’s working late. She asked me to do some stuff and then we’ll have the whole day to play,” Tyler said, as I started to help him.
“What about Marcus?”
“I have no idea. He’s always wandering in his car, but don’t worry, he won’t be back till 10,” he replied and I relished the idea of being all by ourselves in that big house.
I really enjoyed spending time with Tyler because he was open to try anything and wouldn’t say shit like you were weird or something. Right after we finished all of his chores, the doorbell rang and several friends from the neighborhood invited us to play soccer. They always showed up when they knew I was around and we often agreed to dispute a match with them if we, ehem, weren’t doing something else.
We went upstairs to get the ball, changed from our normal clothes into blue satin shorts and a light t-shirt, with a pair of worn out sneakers. I remember it turned out to be a particularly tough game, despite the fact I was a fine soccer player. My teammates were Adrian (13) and Phil (12), the “blond brothers”; against Tyler’s team: Adam (13) and Chris (14). While we disputed the match, the relentless sun punished us severely; it must have been the hottest day of the season, for I was soaked in sweat only 15 minutes after we started. It went on excitingly, until there was an incident I ought to tell due to its relevance in the story. Tyler tried one last time to score before the game ended. He had already left Phil behind and had dribbled Adrian, the goalkeeper, running at full speed towards our goal. I was the last barrier to go through before scoring, and if that happened, we would lose. I must admit I don’t like losing, especially in my own game, so I decided Tyler wouldn’t score this goal and started running in the opposite direction, like I was going to collide with him. When I was pretty close, I threw myself to the ground, stretching my right leg at my cousin; and I tackled him. Back then I didn’t think it was going to hurt him THAT bad, but he recovered from it, so let’s just call it a minor soccer injury. When I got up, I saw Tyler on the ground clutching and rubbing his right ankle and screaming like hell.
“Sorry Tyler, I had to protect my team you know. No hard feelings right?” I said, expecting a little understanding. I reached down, inspected his wound and helped him to his feet.
“Yeah sure, you stupid cheater,” he replied and pushed me. A sudden chill ran through my body. I tried to apologize again but he wouldn’t accept it. If there ever was an outstanding characteristic in Tyler, that was vengeance. The decision was left for penalty kicks and we won 3 – 2. Tyler didn’t seem to be angry, but I knew him, he was furious. The game over, the loser team bought us a big bottle of Coke, which we drank greedily, and then Tyler and I headed back to the house. It was around 5pm. We trotted up to the second floor, where all bedrooms were. We were filthy and in desperate need of a shower. I had already taken my sweaty t-shirt off and as I was entering his room, Tyler on impulse kicked my ankle and I tripped and fell down hard.
“AHHH! That hurt goddammit! What was that for?” I cried out loud, astonished, massaging my foot. He immediately reached into his top drawer and took a long coil of elastic bandage, the ones you use to use for boxing.
“Nothing,” he replied while he pushed me rather roughly on my stomach, “just lay down still, because you’re going to be my prisoner for the whole afternoon.” I couldn’t believe his words and laughed. At that time, I wasn’t worried about getting out, because Tyler couldn’t even tie his freaking shoelaces - whenever he had tied me up I had always managed to free myself within seconds. I tried getting up but he jumped and sat on my butt, pulling my wrists back. I squirmed and wiggled trying to escape, but Tyler’s grip held -although younger, Tyler was quite strong, strong enough to hold me.
“Calm down,” he said, “you’re just making it harder for yourself.” I laughed again, but soon that smile disappeared from my face. It was then Tyler finally got the chance to turn the tables on me and prove a point or two to me regarding tying up skills. He grabbed my wrists and I felt the loops around them while he wrapped vertically, and then horizontally; he finally knotted it beyond the reach of my fingers. I struggled somewhat worried and, surprise, I couldn’t get out! It was nothing like the crappy ties he used to do; there was no slack and all loops had a part in strictly securing my hands to each other. I had no logical explanation to how he had suddenly become an expert tier, but what really mattered at that instant – and worst of all - was that I realized any attempt of escape without help would be futile.
“HELLLPMPPPPPPPHHHH….!!!” My scream was muffled when Tyler clamped his sweaty warm hand over my mouth. I groaned, squirmed and mmmpppphhhhed but Tyler had pressed the back of my head using his other hand and had effectively hand-gagged me.
“There’s no point in screaming for help now, Nick. Nobody is home and you’re going to pay for what you did this afternoon.” I think, however, he would have tied me either way, but then he had a good excuse to do it. At that tender age, I was not familiarized with the term “bondage” – we just referred it as “tie up game”. It’s obvious that at that age most people start their love for tying up, as it happened to me. Looking back with hindsight, I think it is very likely that Ty (that’s how I call him, ironic isn’t it?) also enjoyed bondage more than he was letting on at the time.
“Are you sorry?’ Tyler asked with his hand still tightly clamped over my mouth. I tried desperately to reply, “I am!”, but it all came out as “MMP MPPPHHHH” through his hand.
“This is your last chance Nick. Are you sorry?” He asked again and ignored my following “MMP MPHHHHHHHHH!!!”
“Well Nick, you leave no me choice but to punish you,” Tyler said in a sober tone. Then he removed his hand and I said, “I’m sormmppphhhh…” but was cut off again as he shoved a sock in my mouth and sealed it with a convenient roll of duct tape under the bed, wrapping it around my head.
“Get up now!” he commanded. Tyler helped me to my feet and then marched me to his bed where I was laid on, still with bound arms. He proceeded to take off my shoes and socks, and then he repeated the tying technique with my ankles and secured them together to a rope that hung from the ceiling. There I lay shirtless, tape-gagged, hands bound behind my back, and my restrained feet lifted a meter up, making it impossible for me to get up. My cousin just laughed at me; he would be getting fun at my expense. I soon would know what he was up to.
“Nick, I really should get a shower. You won’t mind if I leave you alone for a while, will you?” Ty mocked but got no answer.
“Haha.” He went on admiring his handiwork, patted on my cheek, said, “Don't go anywhere!”, and closed the bathroom door after him.
I tried to free myself, but to no avail. I mightily struggled against the ropes, twisting my shoulders up and down, pulling and pushing my arms against the ropes. Ty returned after 15 minutes to find me the same way he had left me, only sweatier. I was breathing heavily as he reached to my feet and wiggled his fingers. He was aware that I was extremely ticklish and he had always taken advantage on that; he was really, really evil in that way.
“Mmmpphhhhhh!!!” I screamed through my gag, hoping compassion. Nevertheless, he started the dreadful tickling. He tickled me with increased intensity and I burst out laughing under my gag. He kept on tickling me, under my armpits, my sides, but specially my bare feet, a smile of pleasure on his face. I was totally helpless and laughed my head out as he continued. I screamed, wriggled and squirmed all the way until he stopped for a minute or two so I could recover from it. By then, tears were already rolling down my cheeks. I was exhausted. I thought it was better if I just remained quiet and stood still to regain strength, for I knew the relief would be temporary.
“Do you like that Nick?” I shook my head with pleading eyes.
“Well, I sure don’t like having a bruise on my leg you jerk!” He punched me on the arm. Then Tyler approached again wiggling his fingers, but like a miracle, we heard steps coming up the stairs. He froze and looked at me.
“OH, SHIT!!!”
“Mphhhhhhhh !!!” I begged through the tape; I wanted him to untie me before it was too late! We truly didn’t want to be seen playing tie up games; we thought it would be too embarrassing, particularly for me in that position. I should have looked stupid tied that way and tortured by a 13 year old boy. I suppose he thought it was impossible to untie me before I was discovered and he just hid behind the closet, the coward little rat. The steps came nearer and nearer, until they reached the closed door which was shortly knocked and then opened….