Stories of Tie Up Games

Thanks [mention]harveygasson[/mention] and [mention]LK3869[/mention]
I was beginning to think no one was still following the boys' adventures.

[mention]Xtc[/mention] Judging by number of views, we're not the only ones
I'm beginning to suspect that the public to those "well behaved" stories is also less prone to comment than the one of the edgier stories ( that you do well too, in your own style ). Or there are less of them here than on DA where the situation is kind of the opposite...
Anyway, shy guys: let him know ! ( or we'll loose the fun boys having the kind of games we all dreamed of but almost never had...)

[mention]LK3869[/mention]

The recent viewng numbers seem to indicate that a new chapter is already overdue.
Thanks folks. A NEW commentator will almost certainly speed the next episode as well.

A short chapter for the tickling fans.

Sam, as Senior Member, then came into his own. “If the enemy captures you during an operation, they will interrogate you. We need to know who can withstand prolonged interrogation. You will each be taken away and tortured. If you wish to submit, all you have to do is tell us your name. Do you understand?”

Three tightly bound boys nodded enthusiastically. Surprisingly, no-one had yet fallen into the trap of, “Next one to speak goes straight home.” These kids were determined.

Sam told the boys that on his count of three each boy was to extend either one or two fingers. Odd man out would go first. “One, two, three”, went Sam’s count and all three boys extended one finger.
“A tie.” announced Evan, who was standing behind them, “Go again”.

“One, two, three.” This time only Peter extended one finger. He was to go first.

Evan pulled Peter to the front of the table, untied his ankles and ordered him to slide down to the floor. The loose rope hanging from his wrists was passed between his legs, causing quite a shudder as he felt it drawn up in front of him, to be used as a lead. Seeing the shudder, Evan asked, “What’s your name.” Peter shook his mane of hair emphatically.

Peter was led, somewhat unsteadily, out of the cabin, round the back near to where Little Steve had recently been staked out, not that he could see him. Evan laid him on his back and lifted his legs while Den moved a sawhorse into position against his backside. GP took Peter’s right ankle and fastened it to one end of the horse above the top bar, whilst Alex did the same for his left ankle. This left Peter lying on his back with his backside just about in contact with the ground and his legs stretched out and the unprotected soles of his feet facing upwards.

Once again Evan asked, “What’s your name?” More shaking of the dark mane ensued. “Well, if that’s the way you want it . . . “ Den and GP really gave him the treatment: starting with the soles of his feet and moving systematically up (or down!) his legs to his thighs they explored every vulnerable point. At first it sounded as if Peter was laughing into his gag as he bucked and twisted his body in reaction to the tickling. Then, as one of his tormentors found an especially sensitive spot, unmistakeable squeals were heard but after about ten minutes the noises changed to more like groans and snorts.

“What’s your name, Boy?” More emphatic head shaking as GP pulled a bench up close to the sawhorse and Den lifted Peter up by his shoulders and lowered his backside onto it. His feet still being higher than the rest of him Peter could not sit up and so was left with the back of his head and his shoulders on the ground and his belly stretched tight. Alex and Evan took over tickling duty starting only just above the draw-string of his hipsters, all around his mercilessly exposed belly, up his sides giving special attention to the ribs and finally under his armpits. Obviously, with his arms tied behind him, Peter’s armpits were not particularly exposed but, where there’s a will, there’s a way. And they found a way. By now Peter was sweating and exhausted and having difficulty drawing breath.

Just one more area to go. The bench was moved far enough away from the horse to trap Peter’s arms underneath leaving his upper back supported. Once one of his tormentors had sat on his chest, very little movement would be possible.

“My honour?” asked Alex.

“Your honour.” Evan sat on Peter while Alex gave his neck and chin full attention. The ineffectual wriggling of his legs and frantic shaking of his head had absolutely no chance of helping the initiate either dislodge one torturer or avoid the other one’s fingers.

Peter had now been tortured for about half an hour and still had not confessed. He was released from the sawhorse and returned to the Log Cabin where he was once more forced to sit hog-tied on the table with his ankles crossed.

It was time for the next victim. Would it be Luke or Lloyd? Scissors, Paper and Stone came into play once more. “One, two, three.” Luke straightened his fingers and Lloyd stuck out two fingers. “Scissors cut paper. OK Lloyd, it’s you”

Lloyd suffered very much the same procedure as Peter except that Den and GP reckoned that they could break Lloyd during the first session so they kept going for a bit longer than they had with Peter. His writhing and groaning were spectacular. After 15 minutes with no “confession”, they gave up and handed over to Alex and Evan. Evan had his doubts about Lloyd’s ability to be of use to the club from the outset and he had not been tied very tightly compared to the other two. Lloyd remained determined right through Alex’s and Evan’s session (Evan’s honour this time) and had to work quite hard towards the end not to let his writhing force his wrists from the ropes.

After another 15 minutes or so Evan said, “Well done, Kid, that’s your lot.” and Lloyd was released from the sawhorse. The rather loose roping was corrected and a very sweaty Lloyd took his place alongside the other two postulants on the table.

Luke had been left bound on the table for more than an hour now. The real trial for him was having nothing to do. He dealt with it by imagining what he could do to his brother when he had him at his mercy if only he could get through his initiation. He had to succeed!

When Evan came for him, Luke could hardly wait to get started. He had been restrained far more strictly than the other two candidates and had spent a lot of the time hoping that his boxers were behaving themselves as his knees were apart and he couldn’t see whether or not they were “gaping”. He needn’t have worried.

Evan started untying Luke’s ankles and then took the rope underneath Luke to where it was looped around his wrist ties. After the rope had been passed back under his backside, Luke felt his ankles being freed. He quickly clamped his knees together.

Evan didn’t bother attaching a lead to Luke; he simply pulled him off the table, grabbed his still tightly bound wrists, lifted them forcing him to bow from the waist and propelled him quickly out of the Log Cabin and towards the sawhorse. Luke was only hoping that his boxers wouldn’t let his enthusiasm show. Things had subsided a bit by the time he was laid face up and tied to the horse and he had no need to be embarrassed.

Den and GP gave it their best. Luke was a stubborn little kid who was determined they wouldn’t even get a reaction from him. In his dreams! After an initial two minutes of commendable restraint and only the odd squeak escaping from his drool-soaked gag he had no choice but to turn into a squealing, wriggling wreck just like the other two. In fact his upper body was convulsing so much that Evan got a cushion from one of the battered old armchairs in the Cabin and placed it under Luke’s head.

Change of shift and Luke tried to compose himself. Waste of time. Evan and Alex moved the bench to the normal position and very quickly found that Luke’s waist and rib cage were even better value than his feet and upper thighs. By now the noise being produced was just a prolonged squeal interrupted only by desperate attempts to inhale. Luke should have now been a bit more concerned about the security provided by his boxers but he had other things on his mind. And in any case, it’s not the sort of thing that was going to be held against him. He was now writhing and trying to catch his breath so desperately that he probably didn’t even notice when Den gently eased his underpants to conceal his private parts again.

Just out of habit Alex asked him, “Tell me your name, Boy”. Assuming his name wasn’t “Mm –mmmm –mm –mmm”, Evan decided that Luke had not confessed.

Luke was released from the sawhorse and frog marched back into the Log Cabin. Den lifted him up and dumped him kneeling on the table. By now Action Man had been released and had emerged from the “rustic shower”. Want me to take a hand?” he offered. He was still wearing only his towel round his waist.

“Help yourself.”

“You still want him treated more strictly?” Action Man asked Evan.

“He WAS warned.”

“OK.” Action man took a longer rope than the one that had come off Luke’s ankles and shoved him forwards onto his belly. Evan made sure that he fell reasonably gently without landing on his nose. Acton man went to it. The rope was threaded uncomfortably between Luke’s still tightly bound wrists and the free ends were knotted together just above his knees. Den lifted Luke’s legs so that the free ends could be counter-wrapped above Luke’s knees, tied off, tensions equalised and tightened by being cinched between his legs. Action Man made sure to pass the free ends through the knot just above Luke’s knees before repeating the procedure below his knees. Finally Luke’s ankles were tied carefully in parallel.

“Kneel him up, please.” asked Action Man. Den did so. Action Man’s last move was to thread one free end between Luke’s wrists and tie it to the other near his ankles. This pulled Luke down to sit on his ankles. It also tightened the rope between his wrists and his knees in a most disagreeable fashion. Action Man didn’t bother to get the ends of the ropes out of finger range as he knew that this tie didn’t have to last long and that Luke wouldn’t want to escape in any case!

Evan pulled the other two boys to their knees and Sam addressed the new recruits.

Nice to see the kids having such fun haha

It keeps them of the streets . . .
. . . . an on to unlit forest tracks.

Time for a rather longer update.
If it is too long, (or even if it is not) comments would be appreciated.

“Well done. All three of you have survived the interrogation session.” announced Sam. “You will all stay overnight, as long as you’ve brought the usual parental permission, (“Oh, Shit.” thought Luke) but will remain dressed as you are at present. Now you need someone who will sponsor you before you are baptised into the club. You will need to submit to a complete day’s enslavement to your sponsor within the next four weeks before your membership of The Log Cabin TUGs Club is confirmed.”

To sponsor a new member was a serious matter. Any existing member who sponsored an initiate who did not prove to be reliable over the next year would have to submit to being enslaved by the Troop for a whole weekend.

Den was the first to speak up. “Us big kids’ve got to stick together. I’ll sponsor Lloyd. He was determined not to work his way loose towards the end of his torture session. His Club Name’s gotta be “Budgie”; though, because of those budgie smugglers he’s wearing.” Lloyd squirmed a bit at that but, if he hadn’t been gagged, he would have smiled as he sighed and dropped his head slightly. Den grabbed Budgie’s arms and lifted him off the table before kneeling him on the floor in front of an armchair in which he then took his ease.

“I’ll take Tarzan”, said Action Man putting his hand on Peter’s thigh so that he would know that he was to be known as Tarzan. “His little muscles and that mop of hair make him look just like the jungle man.” After the initial tensing of his muscles caused by the unexpected bodily contact, Peter (or Tarzan) sighed with pleasure and relief. Action man lifted Tarzan down and knelt him facing another chair in which he seated himself.

Luke was now getting worried: the other two had found sponsors. He thought he had done brilliantly. Was there anyone who would sponsor him?

“You were brilliant: being tied like that and staying with it. I reckon you’ll make a good soldier for the cause.” That was Alex’s voice as he held Luke’s arm to let him know who he was talking about.

“Are you sponsoring him or not?”

“I’ll sponsor Luke but I can’t think of a Club Name. Any ideas?”

“We can leave that till later.” said Sam.

It’s difficult to smile when you’re gagged and no one can see your eyes when you’re blindfolded but, believe me, Luke was grinning inside. Alex grabbed each side of his torso and positioned him ready to accept his sponsorship.

“Postulants, on my command, I want you to bend forwards. Your sponsors will remove your blindfolds and gags. Then you will then abase yourselves and thank your sponsors very humbly. Nod your head if you understand.” Following Evan’s explanation, three boys nodded solemnly. They knew very well what was expected. “Bend over.”

Three boys bowed forwards and soon felt the relief of being able to close their mouths again and being able to see once more. There was a hiatus while jaws were worked, lips licked, heads shaken, eyes blinked and backs straightened again. Evan allowed a minute for this before ordering Budgie to submit to his sponsor and thank him.

Budgie looked Den in the face, said, “Thank you for sponsoring me, Master. I won’t let you down. When do you want me to report for my slavery day?” and bent forwards to kiss the tops of Den’s trainers and rest his forehead upon them.

Den told him to kneel upright and that they could discuss that later.

“OK, Tarzan, your turn.”

Tarzan looked Action Man in the face, said, “Thank you for sponsoring me, Master. I won’t let you down. When do you want to enslave me?” Bending forwards he kissed the tops of Action Man’s bare feet and nestled his face down upon them.

“I’ll let you know. Get up.” Tarzan straightened up again looking gratefully at his unconventionally attired sponsor.

“Right, Luke, off you go.” Very much the same routine ensued: the formal thanks and promise, the offer of enslavement, the kissing of the tops of Alex’s flip-flopped feet and the waiting to be allowed to rise again. Because of the way he’d been tied, Luke found this more difficult than the others and had to be helped back onto his knees.

Alex said they’d discuss it sometime this week and told Luke he could kneel upright again. Luke looked up adoringly at Alex.

Evan announced the final stage of the ceremony. “Now for the baptisms and the swearing in.”

Budgie and Luke were dragged across to where Tarzan was kneeling. Evan got a hard, brown rope and tied it loosely round the necks of the three boys leaving a bit more than a metre’s rope between each adjacent pair. The sponsors then released their initiates’ ankles and Alex freed Luke’s legs completely and untied his elbows. Once more, Luke looked adoringly at Alex.

Even though no livestock (other than boys) had been kept at the Log Cabin for many years, an old and rather large cattle trough still existed. It was filled by the run-off from the roofs of the Log Cabin and the shed and the word “skanky” could have been coined especially for its contents.

Having seen “baptisms” before, when someone had really pissed off a more senior member, the three new recruits knew more or less what to expect next. Sam was thinking: “This is a good crop. By now someone would usually have been given his marching orders either because he spoke once his gag was removed or confessed under interrogation or failed to show acceptable self-abasement to his sponsor. This lot should be good in the field.” Sometimes Sam thought more like a general than a schoolboy!

Their sponsors hauled the boys to their feet and Evan led the resultant coffle to the cattle trough. “All you have to do to avoid baptism is to speak now,” Evan reassured them. No one spoke. Evan nodded.

On the signal the sponsors pushed their knees into the backs of their candidates’ knees, forcing them to the ground and then laid them face down. Lifting their feet, each sponsor then bound his candidate’s ankles simply together. Excessive bondage wasn’t required at this stage because, if anybody tried to escape, he would simply have been allowed to do so thus failing his initiation.

It might sound as if this was a well-rehearsed routine. It was. After all those years it should have been!

The coffle was forced to stand – none too steadily because they all had their ankles bound. In a skilfully coordinated manner each sponsor then lifted his candidate, almost like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold, and stood him in the battered but still watertight trough.

“Kneel.” ordered Evan. Three boys shot desperate looks at him. Even supported by water, the act of going from standing to kneeling with one’s ankles bound is not an attractive proposition. With help from their sponsors, the three boys knelt on the far from clean bottom of the trough. The occasional “tss’s” “fff’s” and “agh’s” were ignored.

With the displacement of water caused by the insertion of three bodies into the trough and with each boy losing nearly 60cm in height because of the forced kneeling, the boys were left with just their heads and shoulders clear of the water. Their eyes were very near to the green algae (being in the gap between the two buildings, sunlight often played on the surface) and their noses were near enough to the water surface to appreciate the accumulation of organic matter in the trough. Anyone whose heart did not quake at this stage would not have been human.

“Do you swear to keep the secrets of the TUG’s club including the initiation ceremony?” intoned Evan.

“I do.” answered each voice. The sponsors then ducked the boys, face down, under the surface for about five seconds.

Evan allowed a reasonable time for spluttering before the next question. “Will you conduct yourself honourably in TUG situations? Do you swear to do all you can to help every member of the TUG’s Club whenever they are in distress?”

Following the “I do’s” each boy was ducked again.

Evan then asked his last questions: “Do you promise to honour your sponsor? Will you submit yourself to his service without question within the next 28 days?”

With three more, “I do’s” three boys were ducked under the scummy surface once more.

“OK, Gentlemen, free your initiates, they have passed the tests so far,” announced Evan. “They can all stay the night, under the usual conditions; and we have their first task as members of the Log Cabin TUG’s Club for them.

The sponsors helped the newly baptised boys to their feet and removed the rope connecting them together and the ropes tying their arms behind them. It was up to them to untie their own ankles. At first sight this was not an appetising task, they would have to duck under the water to reach. Until Luke had the first sensible idea of his life: he levered himself up on the sides of the trough and swung his legs over the side landing on the ground. Perhaps Luke wasn’t so daft after all.

In no time at all three far from clean boys stood unfettered, coated in noticeable but harmless green algae and modelling the latest in humus on their legs.

“OK, well done. You men, go and get cleaned up, then I’ll take the parental letters,” ordered Sam. “Good one, Evan. Well done, My Son!”

The previous four chapters don’t seem to have advanced the main plot much but the presence of the new TUG’s Club members was vital as you will soon understand.

You’ve heard hardly anything about the hostages recently and not much more about the fate of Action Man so this chapter ought to bring things up to date.

T-Boy returned just as Little Steve had finished all his washing up and had put away what he could. By now, having had hardly any sleep the previous night, he was knackered and his chains were rubbing more than they had previously. He dreaded being told to get on his knees and clean the floor again. However, T-Boy, like some of the others, had developed a sneaking regard for the little kid with the bizarre tan-lines.

T-Boy realised the state of his galley slave and enlisted Sam’s support for his next suggestion. They unlocked Steve from the sink and took him, still hobbled round to the back of the Log Cabin where Scott still stood, sagging somewhat, on his own shear-leg.

The four marquee stakes were now in the shade of the Cabin and Little Steve was laid out between them. T-Boy decided that he should be allowed to have his feet and arms in contact with the floor rather than have them raised by the rings through the stakes. Sam tied a soft rope, firmly but not cruelly, round Steve’s right wrist, looped it twice round one of the stakes, passed it across to another, looped it round twice and tied the other end round his left wrist. With the tying, and because Steve’s feet had not yet been tied, that left a bit of slack but there was enough friction to prevent Steve taking any advantage of it.

Once Sam considered that Steve was secured safely enough, he undid the chain that had secured him to the sink for so many hours. There was inevitable bruising and some abrasion and Sam reminded himself that the real torture should be reserved for the Twins. So he got some gaffer tape and wrapped several layers round each of Little Steve’s ankles to help relieve the pressure when he tied his ankles in very much the same way as T-Boy had tied his wrists. Steve was not pulled very tight and, as he settled in to his new “bed”, the ropes gradually eased leaving him as comfortable as could be expected in the circumstances.

“It’s tape or stick time.” warned Sam and Steve winced and groaned pathetically.

“It’s OK, I’ve got an idea.” offered T-Boy and disappeared into the Log cabin. He reappeared shortly with a clean tea-towel. “Which do you want: t-towel, tape or your special stick? Tea towel?” Steve nodded shallowly but rapidly. “This won’t silence you but no one will understand you and it’ll act as a reminder to keep quiet. Steve opened his mouth and did his best to lift his head so that T-Boy could tie off diagonal corners of the cloth behind his neck. With a couple of light slaps on the cheeks, Little Steve was left on his own.

He was so tired, he soon dropped off.

Even at this season of the year, Steve had heavy tan lines due to the shorts and t-shirts he habitually wore when helping his dad re-build the garden in their new house. He was left with very dark skin on his lower legs, his arms and from the neck up. His developing torso was, however, still horribly pale. Blondes always look funny tanned like that.

Scott had spent about two hours in the shade of a tree trying to maintain his footing on the cross-bar of his own shear leg but was as deeply exhausted as Steve although his pride would never let him admit it even if he hadn’t been gagged.

Both Sam and T-Boy recognised that Scott needed rest but Little Steve was “lying on the bed”, Evan’s postulants were occupying the refectory table and Action Man was still “drying” and tied to the oak.

T-Boy ripped the tape off Scott’s face and, rather gingerly, held onto the sodden rubber ball that he removed. Sam offered the usual slug from the camel pack and did Scott need it! Sam reminded him that the Sea Scouts didn’t really want to torture him and Little Steve - although Scott thought that they were doing quite a good job of it as far as he was concerned - and wanted to reserve the real pain for other members of their Troop. He offered to allow Scott to be simply bound hand and foot, blindfolded and gagged and left in the loft for a few hours.

Scott was so exhausted that he accepted.

“OK, I’ll deal with this one.” offered Sam. He got the keys and unfastened the locks round Scott’s ankles. Already standing was much easier. It was too awkward to undo the rope that hauled Scott’s hands above his head so Sam decided to commit sacrilege: he cut the rope! That took a while but Scott still had his hands tied in front of him when he slipped from the cross bar onto the ground.

Even after crashing to the ground, the change of posture was a blessed relief. Although Scott’s wrists were still firmly bound, obviously the rope had loosened somewhat while he was hanging from the shear leg So Sam used the free end hanging from Scott’s wrists to cinch it tight.

Scott was allowed some time to get his muscles in action again before Sam hauled him to his feet and led him towards the Log cabin. As he passed Little Steve sleeping peacefully, Scott considered special pleading on his behalf. Would the Sea Scouts accept an offer from him to remain in captivity for longer in return for releasing his little friend? He read the situation accurately. Steve and he were not the ones who were wanted. If this is how they were being treated, Big Steve and Joe could look forward to a really special time!

Sam led Scott to the base of the ladder up to the loft and told him to climb. Having been tied to the shear-leg for so long and still having his wrists bound back-to-back Scott climbed slowly and clumsily but Sam followed closely to make sure he was safe.

There were several low wooden bed frames towards the back of the loft and Sam told Scott to lie down on one of them. Even the thin mattress, which barely disguised the slats beneath, felt like a cocoon to Scott who gratefully laid back and allowed Sam to tie his ankles to the bottom posts spreading his legs but not too widely. By now it was difficult to tell whether Scott was sighing with relief or snoring. Sam undid the rope around Scott’s wrists and fastened each wrist to a post of the bed head. Scott was now spread-eagled but had not been drawn too tight. Sam put a sufficiency of gaffer tape over Scott’s eyes to blindfold him but didn’t bother to gag him as he was pretty much already asleep.

Just after Lloyd was “finished off” on the sawhorse, Alex decided that Action Man had served his time. He wasn’t quite sure how he would react when he was released after having been tortured in the way he had and approached the task of releasing him somewhat warily.

First Alex removed the rope keeping Action Man’s elbows close to the tree and then unlocked his wrists. At this point he thought it would be wise to retreat and leave his former target to finish releasing himself. Handing him the key to the padlock fastening the chain round his neck, Alex left Action Man to it. It didn’t take long for him to undo the chain and work the rope round his neck into a position where he could untie it.

He went looking for Alex.

When Action Man appeared in the door of the log Cabin, Alex started looking in vain for escape routes. He didn’t think he could even dodge past as the paint-spattered boy approached him. Action Man extended his hand towards Alex who stood and nervously extended his hand in turn. They ended in the strange thumb-gripping handshake that the club habitually used. “You won, well done, Man. No hard feelings, honest”

Alex’s sigh, as he returned the grip and both boys hugged each other with their right arms, signalled the start of an enduring friendship. “Hey, Man, did EVERYONE see my boner?”

“Yea, but you’ve seen it happen to other people. At least we all know how to help you enjoy yourself now.”

In the grounds was a large open water tank which had been converted into a “rustic shower”. A screen had been fixed between the supports. It started about 30 cm from the ground and extended upwards for another metre. Duck boards enabled bathers to keep their feet off the ground and the water drained into a sort of concrete funnel underneath and into the drain under the tap.

Action Man went to his rucksack, got his toilet kit and took a, not very quick, cold shower. Having finished and towelled himself down roughly, he wrapped his towel round himself and went into the Cabin in time to join in the initiation of the younger boys.

Following the initiation the three new recruits headed for the shower to remove their generous coating of green gunge and well rotted vegetable matter. True to form, Luke removed his boxers, rinsed them out thoroughly and hung them over the screen but the others showered in their Speedos. After towelling themselves down, and after Luke had replaced his still wet boxers, the new kids hung their towels over the screen and rushed back to the Log Cabin.

T-Boy noticed that nobody had bothered to send out for lunch but he was OK as he caught something while he was out shopping. With what was to happen this evening, he thought he’d better start preparing dinner.

Evan announced that all the initiates could stay the night and that they would undertake their first TUG’s Club operation. The “Old Man” was due this evening to take the older boys on a night-X and he would want to see the parental permission notes for what Sam had told him was a “Training Residential”. He would make an excuse to cover the fact that the three initiates were elsewhere at the time because really it would be their job to “take care of” Little Steve and Scott so that the Old Man didn’t find them.

Problem: Luke again. He’d forgotten his note.

“Sorry, Luke, no note, no overnighters.”

“No, please, I can ride home and get one. Please.”

“OK, but your sponsor will have to be tortured while you’re away.”

“Sorry, Alex, I won’t be long, promise.”

Alex undid the buckles at the sides of his cut-down camouflage trousers and removed them and his t-shirt and offered his wrists to Evan to be bound.

Luke headed for his bike.

“Luke! Put your clothes on! Go commando so no-one will notice the wet boxers.” Luke stripped and dressed as quickly as possible while he saw Alex being prepared for torture. Alex knew it was bluff and that, other than being tied up, he would not be tortured any further but it was done to encourage Luke to get it right in future.

“Don’t forget, you’ve got 40 minutes. After that the ginger gets it.” With that Alex shot Evan a rueful look.

Luke went off as fast as he could and Alex seated himself to await his return. Just for the sake of form, Evan tied Alex’s ankles so that the younger kids would believe that Alex was about to suffer if Luke was late.

There was some dead time before dinner. Most people got their sleeping bags and roll mats ready for the night and did what passed for tidying up and the two remaining initiates helped to pitch a third Icelandic. That was more for practice than occupation because they would have a task to fulfil for the TUG’s Club overnight.

Believe it or not, some of the lads even undertook some Scouting related activities. Action Man used the carefully designed wooden weight training circuit that Ben and Paul (q.v.) instituted originally about 20 years ago. It was an ingenious use of natural materials which had been maintained and kept up to standard ever since. There may be more details about that later but it’s not important at the minute, just believe me: it was there.

By the time Luke returned, GP had helped Alex to a dining chair and strapped him to it around his waist so that Luke would think he was about to be tortured. Luke dropped his bike just outside the door and rushed in brandishing his note (in which he’d got his Mum to cover him for Tuesday and Wednesday as well just in case Alex wanted to call in his debt) and shouting, “Stop torturing Alex.”

GP could see no point in wasting a perfectly good opportunity and gave him a ten-minute tickle session in any case. From one ginger to another, the war was on! But they both knew that their feud would have to be delayed until after the Twins had been dealt with. “Anyhow,” said GP, “my parents were married.”

Alex was released and with the words, “Watch it, Boy, once we get rid of the Twins, your arse is so dust!” he smiled and shook his head.

“Yeah, whatever.”

T-Boy announced that dinner was served. Three-Bean & Sausage Casserole with thick lumps of bread for mopping plates. That was a typical one-pot meal and one that Den hadn’t yet realised was heath food. With their not having bothered to send out for lunch, the only thing the Sea Scouts left in the enormous cast iron pot was the non-stick lining.

The meal having contained beans there were the usual not so subtle fart-based conversations while the traditional ginger cake and custard was stowed away with equal vigour. T-Boy enjoyed his job and he didn’t get many complaints. Because he had been very careful with his shopping, the budget stretched to posh biscuits to go with the hot chocolate. The three postulants were beginning to see advantages to being members of the Log Cabin TUG’s Club and reckoned that their parents were getting good value for money.

By now Luke had dutifully stripped down like the other initiates showing that this time he had remembered his black Speedos. Sam told the three new boys that they had chores to do. Luke was to clear the dishes and Tarzan and Budgie were to free the hostages ready for feeding.

Action Man was dressed by now - if you accept that wearing just his most disreputable baggy navy blue shorts with the holes in them and which displayed the white waist band and a fair bit of the rest of his tight black boxers above and through them counts as being dressed. Rather than have to put something on his feet he told Tarzan to come with him up to the loft. Scott was still sound asleep and showing signs of having an enjoyable dream. Tarzan was instructed to padlock the thin chain that Action Man had brought with him, the one from which he himself had been released, not too tightly around Scott’s left ankle and then to release the rope holding it to the bed.

Although still dozy, Scot was now definitely awake as, under Action Man’s instruction, his right foot was hobbled about 45 cm from his left one and untied from the bed post. As he gradually came to, and recognised Action Man’s voice, Scott suddenly remembered his previous “Later” threat and assumed that now was the time. Not being gagged he started begging, “Please, not the bulldog clips, anything, please, but not the clips.”

“Hand gag called for.” instructed Action Man and Tarzan straddled the prisoner placing his knees on his upper arms and putting a lot of his weight upon the hands that he clamped over Scott’s mouth. “Shut up or I’ll go and get them. Don’t worry; I don’t really want you to suffer that much. I just wanted to win my bet so I had to make sure you struggled your hardest because I know that you’d normally be happy to stay hog-tied like that for hours. Shame about my bet, though.”

Scott calmed down. Action Man was considered a hard man. He was also known to be honest.

“Now, realistically you’re not going to escape hobbled and trailing a lot of chain. So I suggest that you allow my little mate here to finish chaining you so that you can climb down for yourself. After that he’ll need to shorten your chains again. If you really don’t want to have your nipples clamped, you’ll cooperate fully with him. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” answered Scott remembering his position. He was as good as his word.

Tarzan freed his wrists and fastened them about 30cm apart in front of him leaving enough free chain between his ankles and wrists to allow him to climb safely. Action Man then ripped the tape from Scott’s eyes leaving his face reddened and his eyebrows somewhat depleted.

After having climbed down the ladder from the loft Scott was told to kneel. Tarzan fastened his wrists closer together thus saving a padlock which he used to shorten the chain between his ankles and his wrists.

Meanwhile Den and Lloyd gave similar treatment to Little Steve until both hostages were chained side by side in the middle of the Log Cabin’s floor. T-Boy told Steve that he could remove his gag, which he gratefully did. The “Chef” had kept two generous bowls of food for the hostages. He had even cut up the sausages to make it easier for them.

The still half-awake hostages were each presented with their bowls but no cutlery; they were obviously expected to cope as well as they could. Following T-Boy’s assurance that, if they didn’t clean their bowls, they’d get nothing else for 24-hours they set to with a will, pouring the contents gradually at first and finally licking out the bowls like little kiddies with mum’s cake mix. They were given mugs of water to drink that, when they begged in an acceptable manner, were refilled.

“Need the bog?” asked GP. Both boys nodded, remembering what would happen if they spoke without permission. “OK, you two,“ GP indicated Tarzan and Budgie, Luke was still dealing with the washing up, “take them. Alex’ll tell you what to do.”

The padlock shortening the chain between Steve’s ankles and wrists was removed and Steve was dragged to his feet, taken out of the Log cabin and round to the back where his hands were separated and re-chained about 40 cm apart. Having been ushered into the toilet, he was left alone to do his business for five minutes. Before being escorted back to the Cabin, his wrists were fastened together once more. He was made to sit on the floor where his right ankle was freed and then padlocked closely to his left one using the padlock already in place. One of the free padlocks was then used to draw his wrists to within about 40 cms of his ankles and the other one just clipped onto it for future use.

Scott received the same treatment except that he was sat facing Steve and the last padlock was used to link the two loops of chain formed by the shortening routine together. It removed the hostages’ options almost completely.



During dinner Sam had started to outline the evening’s events but it was now time to go into detail as far as the hostages were concerned.

At about 8:30 their GSL, BM to his face, or The Old Man as he was usually known, was due with the Troop’s minibus to transport all the older boys to the start of a night exercise. He would not want to find any hostages!

One of the “Old Boys”, Mark (q.v.), was due at about the same time, in theory to supervise the younger boys on their “Training Residential”. That should allay any concerns that BM might have at not seeing them when he arrived. Mark would know damned well what was going on but BM would be told that the three younger boys were on a treasure hunt that wasn’t due to finish before half-past nine. Sam knew that BM would want to be away well before then.

So, to business. Sam reckoned they had about an hour to clear the place of all signs of the hostages and to look as if they were busy planning the night-X. Just for safety, Den was sent with a walkie- talkie to keep an eye on the only track that would support the bus and let the others know when it was in sight. He would then pretend to be late arriving and bum a lift. The Land Farmers had Long Tom as a skilful Field General but the Sea Scouts had a long history of native cunning and treachery!

The area around the Log Cabin was well away from footpaths so transporting prisoners towards evening time was usually no problem. If walkers or cyclists were around, they were usually easy to hear approaching as long as the prisoners and escorts were quiet, hence Evan’s test of the new kids. A quick diversion from any tracks followed by a dive into the undergrowth usually concealed the party effectively. The nearest path, other than the one that led only to the Cabin itself was at the front of the Cabin. The back could be considered remote from intrusion.

The plan was relatively simple. It would be put to the hostages that they could be chained and escorted a safe distance form the cabin. That would be relatively comfortable but completely inescapable. The alternative was that they could be tied-up before being taken away, which would be more uncomfortable.

There was a difference of opinion. I think you can guess who went for the uncomfortable option! Sam reckoned that he’d prefer the safer option and that, if Scott was determined to suffer, he was sure that GP could think of something later.

By now Luke had fished his KP duties and was ready to join in the operation. Alex instructed his novice as he took the trailing end of Little Steve’s chain and padlocked it firmly round his neck using the padlock that was joining him to Scott. Luke undid the padlock that joined Steve’s wrists together and the one pulling him into a sitting position. That produced quite a lot of loose chain but all the while his ankles were shackled, Steve couldn’t really take advantage of it.

A short time was allowed for Steve to massage his wrists and to straighten his back a little before the loose chain was passed over his knees, under his feet and his bum to end up behind his back. The sensation of the chain collar moving round his neck was not reassuring. Steve knew what was required and lifted his arms behind his back. Both spare padlocks were used to chain his wrists behind him.

The next move might have been to unchain his ankles to enable him to walk out of the Cabin but Alex told Luke that the wiser move was to blindfold his prisoner first. Poor Steve, one of the things that he most dreaded happened: Luke applied four layers of gaffer tape round his eyes. Steve’s protests certainly broke protocol, although Luke seemed to understand most of the words, so T-Boy quickly stuffed Steve’s personal padded stick into his mouth. This time it was secured with cord drawn as tightly as Vic had tied it originally. Steve’s shoulders sagged. He hoped that the night-X would not take very long.

Scott sympathised with his dejected companion but even he was not cavalier enough to protest in the current situation. It was obvious that the Sea Scouts were in a hurry.

Now it was Scott’s turn. Would GP be able to come up with any “creative” ideas?

This time it was Tarzan’s turn: the same routine got Scott’s chain round his neck and his hands fastened behind him, although a little higher than Steve’s. Predictably T-Boy had already rinsed the rubber ball that he had removed from Scott’s mouth earlier and placed it in the almost ritual place on the mantle piece. Tarzan squeezed the ball and offered it to Scott’s uncomplaining mouth. This was the first time he had gagged anybody and he was very “exited” about it. But, as Alex explained to action Man earlier, it happens to everybody. Tarzan taped the ball very firmly in place. From someone his own age Scott would have appreciated the treatment but from this little upstart friend of his brothers, he thought, “As soon as I’m free, this kid’s arse is dust.” However, he couldn’t deny that he was still enjoying himself.

With a further generous application of gaffer tape, Scott was consigned to darkness.

Even GP realised that the basic requirements were: get them out of there, make sure they’re secure, and make sure they’re not discovered. If all that came together, he could be creative later.

With both hostages chained, blindfolded and gagged, Budgie was allowed to free their right ankles. It seemed a bit unfair that he had to miss out just because his sponsor was on look-out duty; but he could hardly have gone while he was wearing just his little, shiny black budgie-smugglers.

All the while the hostages were sitting it was possible for them to stand by crossing their ankles and levering themselves upright. They had the choice: do it when Sam told them or be “helped”. Both boys accepted the former option.

Yet another of Sam’s “humorous” videos was being recorded.

When both Steve and Scott were on their feet, Budgie got to tie a rope between their necks. Evan was surprised to notice how skilfully he tied the non-slip knots prior to passing the loops over the necks of the “clients” and adjusting them once they were in place. Perhaps he had misjudged this novice previously.

“OK. You’ve got time” said Sam to the novices. Get something on your feet and get them out of here. Take them where nobody goes after dark. Take them out of noise range, although I don’t think that will be any problem, and don’t bring them back until you’re told to. Tarzan, take a walkie-talkie for when you’re called in but, if you call in first, all three of you are dead men.

At the last minute Action Man remembered the footwear in which the hostages arrived, found it and helped them into it. They would make quicker progress through the forest once they were shod even if they hadn’t been given any socks.

Stopping only for Luke to grab a rucksack from T-Boy, the party was off.



 

Awesome work! Gotta say I am super jealous of these guys

If it makes you feell better, they have all grown up now.

I'm with [mention]harveygasson[/mention] in wishing I'd known these lads back in the day.

I wonder what they're doing as adults...

Sam is dong his doctorate.
Action Man is a wild water rafting expedition leader.
Vic is a windsurfing bum with a serious reputation over the Pond
Evan says he is looking for sailors in Portsmouth!
Scott is still getting injured in rugby and hockey matches.

As you might suspect, the names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Sounds like they grew up to be a diverse and interesting lot. Not a banker or lawyer in the bunch.
Good for them!

OK, so Sam's a heavy duty scientist, but I don't think he will be above coining a pound or two.
Scott is more likely to become a human rights campaigner.

OK, good people, time for a short update.
I wonder how well the newbies did with their first mission?

The rope connecting Steve and Scott had leads on each end that could be used to guide and control the prisoners. Tarzan took one end and led Scott out of the Log Cabin followed by Steve. Luke and Budgie took a boy each by the arm down the path and out of the front gate. From there on progress was rather slow. It’s not easy guiding blindfolded and chained prisoners through parts of the Forest where there are no paths.

Although it was getting late, the temperature was not due to drop unpleasantly overnight and the boys didn’t feel the lack of clothing especially while they were on the move.

Having used the Log Cabin since they were cubs the three younger boys knew that part of the Forest, where they used to play their wide games, well. After leaving the premises the hostages were led round behind the property and guided to a wartime bomb crater about 500 metres away. The guards thought that would be a good place to lodge their prisoners but changed their minds when Budgie pointed out that it would be relatively easy to drop the prisoners in but asked how they were to be taken out afterwards.

They decided to go on a bit more to where they knew there was a ditch which had often provided cover in their games. Tarzan warned the hostages what was about to happen, then he pulled Scott and Steve half sliding and half walking down into the ditch where they stood, somewhat unsteadily in the bottom. Luke went into his rucksack and produced some padlocks which he used to chain the Scouts’ ankles closely together.

Scott and Steve were made to sit down back to back and Luke found some short ropes in his rucksack. Following a short discussion, it was decided to use them to tie Scott’s right elbow to Steve’s left and vice-versa. One further delve into the rucksack for gaffer tape turned up a surprise. Not only did Luke find gaffer tape but also a six-pack of Coke, an entire ginger cake and a large bag of Haribo. All items were produced, the gaffer tape was used to tape the hostages’ necks together and the refreshments consumed in record time.

Not that the hostages had much opportunity to escape, but Budgie decided that removing their footwear would make it even more difficult. This was the chance Luke was looking for; he’d been a good boy so far but now it was payback time on his big brother. He picked up the discarded footwear and sniffed each of the four items giving them a thorough critical appraisal. Steve’s left shoe was awarded top prize; it would have to be placed somewhere special!

Luke remembered having this done to him, he was about to enjoy himself. He removed the laces and pulled the tongue of the shoe out as far as possible. He then fitted it, toe upwards over Scott’s face. Scott started wriggling his head around but to little effect due to his being tied so closely to Steve. While Luke held the foul smelling garment in place, Budgie threaded the long lace through the top pair of eyelets and tied it off tightly behind Scott’s head. There was enough lace left to tie the bottom eyelets as well. Just to complete the teamwork Tarzan had already picked up the gaffer tape which he wound generously round Scott’s head holding Steve’s prize-winning shoe immovably in place.

The guards congratulated themselves on a job well done and wished the older Sea Scout TUGgers had been there to witness their skill and teamwork. Luke regretted not having a camera.

“We going to do the other one too?” asked Tarzan.

“No, just my brother. He’s evil.” said Luke giving Scott two vicious nipple cripples. “Any more Haribo?”

With the shoe over his face Scott’s screamed descriptions of his brother became even more unintelligible than when he was only gagged.

It must have taken about 20 minutes to manoeuvre the hostages through the Forest and into the ditch and another 20 minutes or so to get them settled, torture Scott and drink Coke at belch-inducing speeds.

The guards were feeling good about passing their initiation and having been entrusted with their first mission. I’m not sure that Luke had thought out future events at home very carefully, but that’s Luke. They were surprised when, after not much more than another half hour, the walkie-talkie spluttered into life.

“Marky Mark to Tarzan. C Q, C Q, Tarzan, come back.” Mark was one of the CB generation and it showed!

Tarzan went over to the gorse bush where he had hung the radio. “Tarzan to Marky Mark, receiving. Over.”

“OK, it’s safe. Bring them in. Over.”

“What already? Over.”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Repeat: bring them in. Marky Mark out.”

You might think, in these days of mobile phones, that walkie-talkies are old technology. If so, you don’t know the Forest! Mobile reception is almost non-existent over vast tracts of it.

Luke was very reluctant to remove Steve’s shoe from his brother’s face after such a short time but he knew it had to be done. The gaffer tape was unravelled with intermittent but muffled yelps from Scott and an attempt made to pull the offensive shoe over the top of his head. This produced a more prolonged yelp; it wasn’t shifting. “Good tying, Budgie.” offered Luke. Scott thought he’d remember that name too.

The lace was untied and Scott tried to grab as much clean air as he could through his nose. His deep, rhythmic breathing was discomforting Steve but, with his special gag in place, he couldn’t make Scott understand.

Steve’s shoes were jammed onto his feet and tied and Scott was put into his boots. Luke found a knife in the rucksack (T-Boy usually thought of everything when he packed for an exercise.) and used it to separate the hostages’ necks while Budgie and Tarzan untied their elbows. Good Sea Scouts to a man, all the ropes and remains of tape went into the rucksack along with the Coke cans, cake wrappings and Haribo bags.

Each hostage had one foot released from his chain and both boys were hauled to their feet. It would have been too difficult to get anyone who was blindfolded and chained to climb back up the side of the ditch so the party had to travel along its length for several hundred metres until it petered out.

It must have taken about 30 minutes to get the hostages back to the Log cabin where they were met by Mark. “It’s OK, the Old Man’s not coming back here tonight. The exercise finishes when they wade through the Hashley Ford and return to the Cabin. I’m timing them in. Apparently he’s got someone else to deal with.”

The little kids, who had not met Mark before, were gob-smacked at the sight of him. Pretty near two metres tall and ramrod straight. Now in his early thirties he’d made a living as a top underwear model for years. They were a bit too young to remember Marky Mark, the sub-standard rapper from whom he took his CB name, but this was an impressive looking guy.

“OK, check to see if they need a wee, you know how to deal with that. Then get them on their knees in front of the fire.” Let’s face it: if you were in the hostages’ situation and you were offered the chance of visiting the toilet would you accept whether or not you needed it?

Following the usual unchainings and re-chainings the hostages were eventually settled on their knees in front of the fire and ready to drop.

“Just leave them. They’re absolutely cream crackered.” advised Mark, “Help them to lie down and leave them.”

Even with their wrists chained behind them the two hostages soon dropped off while the novices went out to the Icelandic and prepared for the night. There was something they hadn’t been told.

Marky Mark "sub-standard rapper" I have to agree with that. A gifted actor though, when he still had human form Joey was my preferred NKOTB anyway... Sweet 90s, gotta check on what he has become.

Story still going steady, my sunday mornings guilty pleasure, with all the humor and little touches and practical details you loose yourself in.

Thank you, [mention]LK3869[/mention] .
Believe it or not, I only discovered that the actor and the rapper were the same person after I had written the tale!

Oh yes, [mention]MaxRoper[/mention], and Alex is, unsurprisingly, in the Royal Marines.

Xtc wrote: 6 years ago Thank you, @LK3869 .
Believe it or not, I only discovered that the actor and the rapper were the same person after I had written the tale!

I believe you, boys bands are a little far from medeaval poetry And now he just lifts weight and follows a crazy diet...

By the time BM arrived with Den there was no sign of the day’s events. All he saw was two groups of Sea Scouts planning their strategies for the forthcoming night-X

The basic idea was a point-to-point exercise in which the participants had choices: visit the points in any order; go the long way or risk the fords and the bogs. Although both teams chose a different route, not being stupid, they both opted to finish by crossing the Hashley Ford just before returning to the Log Cabin. The rest of the routes avoided the worst of what they knew of the bogs.

Mark arrived on time and Alex noticed that he and BM greeted one another with the same “fingers up and thumbs gripped” handshake that current TUG’s Cub members used and not the normal Scout handshake.

Sam briefed Mark about expecting the younger boys back from their “treasure hunt”. Everyone else got into their gaiters and boots and packed ready for a night-X.

As they got into the troop’s old minibus, the Sea Scouts couldn’t help noticing the dark-haired kid in the back.

“Evenin’”, some of them offered but all the little kid did was nod. His wide, dark eyes didn’t look too happy.

He looked quite uncomfortable sitting in the aisle with his back not quite against the doors. Well, I suppose he WAS uncomfortable having been tied to two staves.

“Don’t worry about him.” said BM, one of their names for the “Old Man”, their Group Scout Leader. “He’s been a bit of a naughty boy. He preferred that something that belonged to one of my neighbours belonged to him. Having talked to his mum, apparently that wasn’t the only time. So, being given a choice between my dealing with him or the Police, mum chose me. I’m not sure little Chris here agrees. If he makes any noise whatsoever, one of you give him a really good slap. You might have a little playmate when you get back in the morning.”

On hearing this, the little kid furiously shook his head but no noise escaped from his gag. Perhaps he’s starting to learn, thought the Old Man.

Without going into the back-story, the Troop found a very unhappy boy in the back of their minibus when they embarked on their night-X. He was small, and looked no more than eleven years old. He was wearing only the smallest pair of black mini-briefs imaginable – apparently the Old Man had bought them especially from the local Oxfam shop at three for a pound, so no expense spared there then.

Whatever had been stuffed in his mouth seemed to be very efficient because no noise escaped it or the several layers of tape that had been wrapped tightly round his lower face. Or was it the offer of a slapping for every noise he made?

He was sitting bolt-upright with his legs stretched out in front of him. The more curious Sea Scouts couldn’t help noticing the staves protruding from above his head and beyond his feet.

His legs had been bound to one of them at his ankles, below his knees, above his knees and high up on his thighs. It looked as though he was having to sit on the end of it. Action Man would have been proud of those knots. Looking at him it wasn’t immediately apparent how the other stave worked but staples were intimately involved.

As staves go, this was a big bugger – about 5 cm in diameter, it was probably part of the rear support of an old hockey goal. After having bound his legs and his wrists his gaoler had measured carefully and hammered staples at various positions along its length, each staple trapping a length of rope.

The lowest rope was wrapped vertically around the little kid’s wrist bonds and knotted off on the far side from his wrists. A non-slip knot was tied around his neck using the rope from the highest staple. This straightened the prisoner’s arms leaving very little scope for movement. His elbows were drawn tightly to the pole restricting his potential movement even more. And, just for good measure, another rope encircled his meagre biceps a few times before being tied off to the pole.

This kid was going nowhere especially as the vertical pole had been tethered between the metal loops on the tops of the rear seats using large cable ties thus preventing any lateral movement. He was in for an uncomfortable night.

The Old Man obviously knew about the TUG’s Club and had always kept a surreptitious eye on it but this was the first time the members realised that there was more history to it than even they knew.

The minibus, once loaded, took the two teams to their starting points and, following emergency radio checks, the teams set off. Each point had a clue to be collected and the teams could not expect to finish much before one o’clock in the morning unless they were prepared to collect penalty points for missing a clue or to risk the deeper fords or nastier bogs. The teams were Action Man, Evan & GP vs Alex, Den, T-Boy and Sam, who didn’t see why he should be left out just because he was the oldest.

Inevitably there was a bet attached! Once the Twins had been dealt with, the losers were to be kept prisoner by the winners for the customary 12 hours. The three boys should move more quickly but the team of four had more experience on the whole.

Once the teams had reported crossing the Hashley Ford, BM was going to take the minibus (and the Mystery Boy) away and Mark would time the teams in.




When Mark noticed the younger boys starting to establish themselves in the tent, he called them in. “Sorry, Lads, you’ve got a job to do overnight.” You get to guard the hostages. They’ll be up in the loft. So will you.

Neither of the hostages had managed more than about four hours sleep since Friday night and, by now, they really needed to grab some rest. What is the worst torture you can imagine in that case? You’ve got it: having to share a bedroom with three over-exited little kids who have not yet reached anywhere near exhaustion and who are very unlikely to get very much sleep themselves!

The novices collected their rucksacks and climbed up into the loft. Towards the back of the loft were the simple bed frames previously described. There were six of them. Each one consisted of four boards, about 15 cm high and two cm thick. They were held together by hefty recessed nuts and bolts driven through what the English still refer to as “four-be-four” (10 cm by 10 cm) posts which stood about 30 cm high. This made a receptacle for mattresses/carry mats/therma-rests and sleeping bags. The discerning spectator might also have noticed that the vertical posts each displayed a deep groove running all the way round just above the top of the surrounding boards and the metal eye-bolts in the head- and foot-boards.

Mark told the guards to take every other bunk as the hostages would need to be placed in between them. Therma-rests were inflated or carry mats were positioned under the thin mattresses and sleeping bags were taken from their compression sacks to loft. As with the previous evening, the fire was built up, so sleeping bags were probably not going to be used except as extra padding to lie on.

Once the guards had established their beds, there were important lessons to be learned. Mark spent quite some time sitting with the youngest members of the TUGs Club explaining the history, right the way from him & Keith, Lanks & Martin, and Ben & Paul right up to date. Even with the “enemy” Scout’s Honour was to be honoured and respected, without that the games could not continue.

It was then time to put the hostages to bed. In spite of the conversations around them, both boys were still sound asleep.

Mark had already boiled water for the evening’s hot chocolate ready for the Night-X to finish and thought that it was about time to show some mercy to the unfortunate “Land Farmers”. He woke Little Steve, sat him up and removed his gag. “Could you do with 30 minutes “mercy time?”

“Yes please, Sir.” Mark then removed his blindfold rather quickly and not very gently. Steve just about managed to control his language. But his yell didn’t wake Scott.

Budgie was told to unchain Steve except for the collar and to hold on to the end of the chain. Steve massaged his arms and wrists and stretched his legs. “Permission to stand, Sir?” Mark nodded his head. Steve did various stretches and leg lifts and generally ran around the room with Budgie somewhat worried about what would happen if his prisoner managed to slip away.

“Tell Budgie why you haven’t tried to escape?” said Mark.

“Because this is ‘mercy time’ and I’m on my honour not to.” Answered Steve, who was still very weary; but he wasn’t going to miss the chance of being unfettered for however short a time.

After the half hour was up, Mark bound Steve’s wrists firmly behind him, told Tarzan to bind his ankles and make him kneel and told Budgie to remove his chain.

“Luke, make this boy a hot chocolate. No extra milk! Have we got any left-over ginger cake?”

Luke did as he was asked and cut the remaining cake in two bits. He fed Steve his supper and was addressed with, “Permission to speak, Sir?”

This took Luke somewhat by surprise but he nodded his assent.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He was now looking forward to being addressed by the other hostage!

Supper over, Mark hoisted Little Steve over his shoulder, climbed up to the loft and dumped him onto the mattress where he would sleep the night.

Mark had a bit of difficulty waking Scott, who also accepted mercy time which proceeded in much the same manner as previously. When Luke had finished feeding his brother the second piece of ginger cake, he just couldn’t resist it. “What do you say?”

“Scott knew he had to do it: “Thank you, . . . . Sir.”

“Yes, score!!”

“I see a dead man.” thought Scott, “He’s walking but he’s a dead man.”

Mark thought he had to point out that Scott was not a prisoner taken in a fair game, he was a volunteer hostage who had sacrificed himself for his Troop and that, even though he could expect to suffer, he deserved more respect than that.

Even following a rather shame-faced, “Sorry, Scott”, from Luke, especially when he thought about what he’d done to him in the ditch, Scott was still planning recipes for brother-burger for later in the week.

Mark hefted Scott up into the loft and gave the guards their instructions. Luke was to go to the stores and get two carry-mats, lay them on the slats of the bed frames and replace the thin mattresses on top of them.

Budgie and Tarzan were to get ropes and spread-eagle the hostages, who put up no resistance and who were spared having their hands and feet raised off the mattresses. Luke was then allowed to blindfold both hostages but only with a strip of gaffer tape over their eyes. By now Steve had given up any hope of escaping the removal of sticky tape from his head.

Both hostages were soon asleep although each one woke up every so often either when the noise levels rose or, in Scott’s case, because one of his guards pinched his septum hard whenever he started snoring.

The guards had to stay up on the loft but there was no point in retiring until the older boys returned, when they would certainly get their second wind.

It would be about two hours before either team reported fording the last river and about another 20 minutes before they got in so Mark left the guards to look after the hostages while he went out to the third Icelandic, unpacked and settled down for a little shut-eye away from the noise. He left instructions that Budgie was to wake him when the call came in on the walkie-talkies if he didn’t hear it.

BM brought a MB ?