Tuesday, April 15, 2014

The Coach and his boys

"These fucking ropes are too tight!"
"Any luck coach?"
"My wrists are burning and my arms are numb."
"My wrists are chaffed and my arms are ropeburned."
"Are we kidnapped?"
"I think so."
"Listen boys, don't fight to much now, stay calm and conserve your strength."
"Yeah, there is no way out of this shit, so what the fuck are we fighting it for."
"Shit, I can't take being tied up like this."
"Keep control boys, keep control, don't freak out."
"There're coming."

"You boys have fucking big mouths.  So it's time to gag you."

"Please don't gag us," the coach pleaded.

 But it was no use to beg"  Coach Lee's hair was pulled back, and, as his four wrestling team members helplessly watched, he was strangled until he opened his mouth, a ball of cloth shoved deep down his through.  They could hear him gagging as wide strung tape was put over his mouth and circled many times around his head.   The coach's head sunk to his chest, there was nothing he could do for his boys.  He watched helplessly as they all were gagged.  When they had all of them tightly gagged, they left their victims to sit in their chairs and sweat.


Mike was think about what happened.  It was dark, on a back road, coach was driving when their van was pushed off the road.  Mike was sleeping when he was startled to see two guys coming in, holding guns.  The five were pulled out from their van and moved into a small mini-bus.  Their hands were tired behind their backs.  A rag, moist with chloroform, was put over their faces knocking them out.

When Mike awoke he was roped to a chair.  His bound wrists were behind the back of the chair and pushed up and tied to the chair top.  Around his upper arms a strong rope was turned nearly a dozen times over his tricep muscle, and tightened by frapping between the chair and his bicep.  His ankles were roped to the two front chair legs, and his legs were tied together above his knees.  Ropes went from around his neck and crossed his chest and abs tightly lashing his body to the back of the chair.

Mike puked on himself from the effects of the chloroform.  It took time for him to come to his senses.
He looked at his coach and teammates, bound tightly as he was.  Everybody was fighting and squirming to see if they could free themselves, talking and sharing ideas.  The kidnappers came in and Mike watched them gag the coach.  He did not resist when they gagged him. 

"This one is really working the ropes, look his wrists are bleeding!"

A chill ran up Mike's body and he felt his hair stand up.  "Bleeding,?" he thought.  The 19 year olds

 head slumped.  "I'm fucking tied up and their is nothing I can do about it!"


No ropes were going to hold 18 year old Curt.  He never stopped squirming and jerking his body in the chair, trying to escape.  Bare-chested when he was kidnapped, the cords were cutting up his chest and gut.  Curt was grunting and shaking his head, spraying sweat all over.  Coach and the others were also working the ropes, but not with the intensity of Curt.  He was totally active, never sat still, and to be tied up to a chair and unable to move.  Curt made a great heave of his body, using his feet on the floor.  As coach and his friends helplessly watch, Curt and the chair slowly fell backwards.  It landed heard on his bound wrists and arms.  He was screaming in agony, and there was nothing his friends could do.  The kidnappers came in and heard the commotion.  They saw Curt grimacing in pain.  They pulled him back up by his hair.

"Bad boy, so I think you got to be punished."  Curt thought they would beat him, but they went to young Justin, tied up next to him.

"Now watch me the shit out of your friend for you attempted escape."

Curt closed his eyes.

He only listened to the thumps beating Justin.

The ripped the gag off of the 17 year old so that the other's could listen to his screams.  Justin head was pulled back by his hair and was slapped a few times in his face.  Defiant, he looked them in their eyes, "Fuck you bastards, you won't break me."

Brake Justin they did.  One punched him in his head, over and over, when the other worked on his gut.  Young Justin took it for a long as he could, and then his screams began as his beating continued. 

When they finished, the boy was knocked out, cold, eyes puffed, nose bleeding, face bruised.  They pulled the tortured boy's hear back and gagged him again.  Justin slumped in the chair, his head down and blood pouring down his wife beater.


Andy's eyes were wide with terror was he watch them beat Justin to a pulp.  He was terrified, breathing heavy, his sweat burning his eyes.  The sound of Justin's scream made his blood run cold.  The fear immobilized the 18 year old.  Frozen in the ropes that bound him, he just screamed in his gag.  When they finished with Justin, they came to him, slapped his face, and told him to shut up or he would get the same treatment his friends got.  Andy's nodded his sweaty face. 

"These guys are causing us too much trouble, I think its best just to get rid of them."

They tied a cloth around Andy's eyes.  He could hear Coach Lee gag pleading as they were all blindfolded. 

All but Justin, who was still knocked out from his beating were screaming and squirming.

A shot was fired.

Coach Lee squirmed so hard that he tipped his chair and broke his right upper arm, but was frantically trying to get the blindfold off.  He was trembling --- one of his boys had just been shot and there was nothing he could do about it.

Somebody lifted him back up.

"This is it," he thought, and bit down hard on the gag, waiting for the bullet. 

The blindfold was torn off his head.  POLICE YOU'RE BEING RESCUED.

Coach looked around.  All his boys were safe.  One of the kidnappers was died on the floor, the other cuffed and lead away.

"They beat up Justin bad," he said when he gag was taken off.

"Medics are coming," the cop said.   "Now let me look at that arm." 


 A few weeks after graduation, Coach Lee was blindfolded and bound to a chair in his house.  His four boys checked the ropes and started the timer.  "OK, Coach, thirty-minutes and your fucking die," Mike said.  The coach worked his ropes.  "And when I get out of this shit I am going fucking tie you up Mike, tighter than when we were kidnapped."  Mike smiled.  The five men were enjoying their new challenge game.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

Grand Theft Auto

They forced us out of the car....

Then they beat and bound us!

Timmy was the first to come to.  He blew the dirt out of his nose.  It was still bleeding.  They had pounded his face into the dirt after the bound his arms and hands.  He felt the zip tied around his wrists with his fingers... moist.  They were bleeding. 

There were five of them on his arms, lashing them together behind his back.  It started with his biceps, which were a scant few inches apart, above and below his elbow joints, where were forced together, the middle of his forearms and his wrists.  They had been pulled as tight as possible, cutting through his skin and muscle. 

Again he shook his head and blew his nose to get out more dirt and blood.  The taste of blood was down his throat, but he could not spit it out.  They had taken a rubber ball and shoved it between his teeth, and put two zips tied around his head, gagging and choking him. 

His balls hurt.  Some rope had been put between his wrists and under and between his legs, and tied around his waist.  He could not move his arms without crushing his balls. 

He forced himself to sit up.  He looked down at his legs.  Nothing.  They were not tied.  They left him and his friends to walk the miles from their campsite to civilization, totally unable to free their arms or let go of their gags.

"Bastards,"  Timmy thought.  They left us tortured!  The truck was gone.  The campsite was destroyed.  He struggled to his feet.   He want over and gently kicked Doug, hoping to wake him up.

Doug began to come to and looked at Timmy.  Timmy turned around and showed Doug his arms.   Streams of blood flowed from where the plastic has cut.  Doug was on his back, he turned onto his side.  The dirt was chrisom colored, caked with dried blood.

Doug hobbled to his feet.

He too realized we were in deep shit.  Arms useless, hands worthless, speaking impossible and no way to cut they ties.  The two of them woke up the others.  They made signs and gestures to each other and began to hike, bound and gagged, to find help.

When they got to a stream, they were able to suck some water into their mouths even though they were ball gagged.  They rested their bound arms and wrists in the cool water, the brought welcome relief.  It was getting dark.

The temperature began to drop.  Fog was rolling in.  They huddled together for warmth as it went pitch black as they listened to their stomach's growl from hunger and gagged moans as they searched from some comfort but found now.  Their little sleep was punctuated by the sounds of animals that put a chill up their spines.


They just finished the second night and now were into the third day.  Hope was fading fast.  They were hungry and thirsty and weak.  Their arms now oozed pus for there were very infected.  Jake was in the front, the others behind.  He knew they had been walking in circles.  He was daydreaming as he walked.  "If I just could free my arms for a minute to get this ball out of my mouth!" he thought.  His mouth was so dry.  His arms were so sore.  Jake prided himself in his strength.  To be helpless for 48 hours was driving him crazy.  He had tried to brake the plastic ties, only deepening the wounds and forcing dirt deep into the cuts.  Jake was dizzy.  He was weak on his feet.  He did not see the branch.  He tripped, tried to keep his balance, but fell backwards.  His arms smashed onto a rock.  The sound of the brake pierced the woods.  Jake was screaming in the gag.  He friends stood around him, watching his writhe in pain.  They was nothing they could do to help him, bound as they were.
They had leaned to speak with nods and gestures.  It was decided that Billy would try to get help, while Timmy and Doug would stay with Jake.
Billy set off.
Billy's hobby was astrology, so he used the sun as a compass watching it transverse its zenith.  He could also tell the time.  "It's about 4, he figured.  Only three hours of daylight left."  Billy did not know if he could survive the night.  He was sweating profusely, probably running a fever from his infected wounds.  But he forced himself to go on, hoping and praying for a brake.
It was getting dark now.  Billy smelt a fire.  He instantly moved to it.

It was a fire surrounded by a troop of boy scouts.  Billy staggered into the camp.  Of the boys screamed in terror as the bound man fell to his knees.  The leaders ran over to him and began to cut his bonds.  Billy screamed as the plastic ripped skin and hairs from his limbs.  He pleaded for water when the gag was removed and explained who he was and what happened.  The scoutmaster called for help while the older boys gave Billy both first aid and some nutrition bars.
In a few hours they heard quads coming through the woods.  Billy explained as bet as he could the coordinates here his friends were, judging the distance of 2 or 3 miles.
The searches went off as Billy sat in one of the quads that drove him for medical help.

 Jake was cold.  His friends huddled to keep him warm, but his body was shutting down.  Shock, fever, infection, starvation, dehydration were all taking its toll, sapping his strength.  He was glassy eyes, staring at nothing. 

He never heard the rescuers.  He had gone into deep shock.  One of the medics, realizing how serious it was, plunged an IV into his not freed arms.  Into it he shot some drugs.  Billy came around.  He had already been bandaged and splinted.  He looked down at his arms, in disbelief that they were not still  confined behind his back.  He sat in the quad.  He saw his friends also in quads, bandaged as he was.

They quads took off get them the emergency help they needed:  Billy happy to be alive and bound now more than ever to his three friends.