HOUDINI CONNECTIONS

Roping excerpts from 'storylines'

MAN-TO-MAN STUFF
E.

Having woken in the middle of the night the story as told by Dan continues as he clings to Harry in panic …

My hand reached down to my own cock, and my confused head shook from side to side and began to slide down his chest towards his groin. Only with a great effort did I turn my head away, apologising and again dissolving into deep throated sobs. Tears, for Christ’s sake!.
“I’m sorry, mate. I’m sorry,” I said, “I just don’t know what they’ve done to me.”
“You just need rest,” he said, embarrassed.
“I need to fuck or get fucked,” I roared – and then stared at him, open mouthed.
“You WHAT,” Harry practically hissed, his eyes wide in amazement.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry – forget it. Forget I ever said that – please. But – but, something inside me is still eating away at my mind. You’ve got to help me … until these feelings pass. I hope to God they will pass – but until they do ... Harry ... the chief said you’ve got to look after me. Well, you need to protect me from myself. I don’t want to wank but I need to wank – but I don’t want to wank.
“Wank – is that all?”
“No, it isn’t all. I want to willingly drop my head into your lap and – Harry, for Christ’s sake, help me. What have those bastard’s done to make me feel so ... desperate. Hold me, Harry – tight. Do anything to me.”
“Dan, what are you … ? he stammered as I clung to him.
“Harry, before I do anything I’ll regret for the rest of my life – stop me. I need you to fuck me or – anything. But it’s not me talking. Please – hold me down – tie me up – anything. Anything you want – but shut me up. Knock me out. Gag me and tie me down – but – stop me ... going crazy.”

I sobbed and he held me – his arms under my arms and around my chest – stopping me holding him too tightly. Holding me away from him, frustrating my impulse to pull him closer to me. I tried to reach under him and touch his crotch – and he struggled to avoid my hands – his strong hands, eventually pushing me down onto the bed, pinning my arms.
“Now cut it out, Dan. Relax,” he growled firmly.
“How can I fucking relax. It must be the drugs. Help me! There’s some rope in the kitchen drawer. There’s adhesive tape. If you don’t tie me down – I don’t know what I might do.
“But I can’t ... “ he insisted.
“You must. You fucking must! If you don’t tie me down – I’ll rape you. I’m stronger than you. I’ve always been stronger than you. Since we were kids I could always ... Harry, if you don’t fucking tie me down – the way I feel, I can’t be responsible for my own actions. Please!”

He shook his head desperately – and then moved off towards the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” I almost screamed.
“To get ... rope. You said rope.”
“In the kitchen drawer by the washing machine. And the tape’s on the shelf by the back door. Do it. And a gag! Stop me talking. I need to stop talking ... and wanting to ... Get the fucking rope.” With that I sprang out of bed and swung open one of the mirrored wardrobe doors. My gym bag was there. A squash ball, I thought. That would make a gag. But there were no squash balls ... but there was a foam practice tennis ball; soft and pliable, but big. It seemed I was in panic ... losing it. Never in my life ...

Harry came back with tape, rope and kitchen scissors to cut it with.
“Good.” Tie my hands behind me and then ... “
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Fucking positive,” I hissed at him. “Tie me – and gag me – and leave me until I cool off. All night. Don’t worry – just tie me tight – and leave me all night. Here, this will do for a gag.”
“It’s too fucking big. You’ll choke to death,” he said looking at the foam ball in my hand.
“Do it,” I demanded. “First tie my hands behind my back – and do it right!”

He hesitated, but my desperate agitation seemed to convince him, and he cut a short length of rope, and I turned round, clamping my wrists side-by-side behind my back. I felt the rope circling a wrist and I began to relax, breathing deeply for the first time since this urgency hit me. My cock was standing out rigid as I waited for him to finish – but he seemed unwilling to make the rope too tight.
“No,” I moaned angrily, “you’ve got to do it right! Make it so there’s no way I can get loose. Inescapable,” I insisted.
I waited again, breathing hard. The ball and tape lay on the bed as I stood there, naked and shivering with tension ... emotion. My rampant cock pulsing slightly. Twitching.

Having roped one wrist, I felt him guide my second wrist into a crossed position. I knew I wanted them lashed firmly parallel so he could then pinion my elbows tight together like they’d been before. But it was too late for that, and the crossed wrists were now being tied leaving some movement. I tested them determinedly; the flexible rope-tie didn’t give. The wrists stayed captive behind my back.

“Now my ankles,” I said turning and sitting on the edge of the bed. Tie them as well or I’ll kick my way out and stamp all over you,” I said wrestling again with the loose roping behind my back: testing the binding, determined to free them if I could.

“What the fuck’s got into you?“ said Harry as he knelt and set to work roping my ankles. Unable to free my wrists, I watched his muscular shoulders and the top of his dark head as he completed an expert square-lash around my ankles. Then he looked up, his face in line with my crotch. I had the urge to lift my pelvis and aim for his mouth. I closed my eyes and sort of sobbed, because I was like a demon possessed. Instinctively I felt that these impulses would pass but, for the moment, I could not trust myself and I needed to know I could do no harm to myself or anybody around me.
“Now gag me,” I commanded.
Harry picked up the ball. “It’s too big,” he said.
“Fucking do it,” I said, “ram it in. It’s big but only soft foam. Tape it in, and don’t take it out until morning. This drug may have worn off by then. Do it!”

Reluctantly, Harry pushed the foam against my lips and I helped it in. It was a squeeze, and not as soft as I’d expected. Once past my teeth, as he pushed the rest of it through, it stuffed my mouth, pushing out my cheeks and immobilising my tongue. As his fingers forced the remaining bulk behind my teeth, our eyes met. Deliberately I looked down towards the roll of athletic tape and nodded.
He picked it up, questioningly, and I nodded again, very emphatically.

He seemed to take in a deep breath before peeling open the end of the roll, and then he tentatively taped across my cheeks and mouth – and after a hesitation, continued it all the way around the back of my neck, circling my head several times until my face was covered from nostrils to the point of my chin. This made the foam ball impossible to displace – which was what I’d wanted. Behind my head as I sat on the bed, I heard the tape rip and the job was done – and done well.

I tried to work my stretched jaw and then flexed my head and muscular neck experimentally – and nothing was going to budge that ball. But – it was very intense. More intense than the inflatable rubber bung that had stuffed my mouth for however many hours when I was ‘snatched’. This foam ball was bigger – and I had perhaps over estimated my ... shit! I had definitely miscalculated.

“How’s that?” asked Harry, looking squarely into my face. “Can you cope with that?”
He was concerned and perceptive. Perhaps the look in my eyes told him I was in difficulties.
“I said is that how you wanted it?” he insisted. “Did I do it right, Dan? Are you really sure you want to deal with something that intense ... for the next six hours, like you said?” he asked in a tone which demanded a response.
I hated to admit it, but I already knew I’d made a mistake. Could I deal with it? Instinctively, I knew it would soon become seriously difficult. Six hours? No way. Looking into his waiting eyes, I shook my head in a regretful negative.
“Tough shit” he said, without batting an eyelid.

ROPED
I stared at him ... and he stared back.
“You asked for it and you've got it,” he said, without a trace of a smile.
I continued to stare at him in disbelief. Harry – my school chum – the man my chief had left to look after me. I tried to form words – but no way were words going to penetrate this fucking foam ball. I shook my head from side to side and, as if in mockery, he too shook his head before saying:
“If you've changed your mind about the gag – and you were so determined your wrists should be well tied – undo your wrists and take the fucking gag out yourself, chummy. Six hours you said – and make sure it's inescapable, you said. Well – the roping may not be inescapable yet – but it will be by the time I've finished, Dan boy. Inescapable – and uncomfortable to boot.

Slowly, he now began cutting two more lengths of rope, deliberately building up the suspense. Smiling into my eyes, he looped one behind my neck and then pushed the two ends under my naked armpits. Behind my back I felt him draw them tight and knot the ends together. Then I felt my wrists rise, and the pressure of rope on my shoulders told me he had attached the wrists to the unslippable rope figure-of-eight. He dragged the wrists even higher, which forced my shoulders back and the over-all constriction became more intense. The flexibility of the wrist roping, allowing my arms to twist upwards without becoming dangerously tight, I realised.

Now from behind, another loop of rope was suddenly around my throat and back behind my neck. Christ, that's dangerous, I thought. That could choke me, I realised with serious anxiety. But Harry's smiling face reappeared in front of me, and he began to fish the two ends of this new rope from under my armpits, before knotting the ends together across my chest.
“Don't worry, I'm not going to strangle you. Just show you that I'm well able to tie inescapable knots. Had lots of practice.”

With that, he went to the wardrobe and rummaged around my shoes. Picking up a scuffed old hi-top trainer, he extracted the lace from it. Closing the mirrored wardrobe door, he then quickly left the bedroom.

I tried to stand up, but with ankles lashed together, had to be careful. I was conscious of myself in the big mirrored door ... but then Harry was back, carrying a small hold-all.
“Where do you think you're going?” he asked, and I sat back, impotently, on the edge of the bed, breathing determinedly through my nose. He plonked the bag onto the bed, and then a firm hand pushed me onto my back and another swung my naked legs up and onto the bed. Before I knew what was coming, a hairy knee had planted itself firmly between my legs. With ankles roped, I was pinned to the bed simply and efficiently and he still had both hands free. As he smiled challengingly down into my face I attempted to un-balance him. Almost like the old days we were in competition. I gave it a shot and struggled, and he gave me a chance to have a really determined try to throw off his lesser weight. But with hands so tightly roped high behind my back, all I could do, using a lot of stomach-muscle, was half sit up to face him. With one finger he demonstrated that he could push me back down again. I was out of breath from the tussle, breathing only through my nose. My rampant cock was all that stood between us and, acknowledging this, his finger then touched it, tentatively.

“Yes, you do have a problem down there, Dan-boy. Is it the drug or just naked lust? Well, for my next demonstration, I will introduce you to one of the most essential tools of the trade.”

With that, from a pocket on his hold-all, he reached for a pair of translucent medical rubber gloves, and with total disregard for my amazed eyes, proceeded to pull them onto his hands. Then he began to fondle my balls and, squirm as I might, with elbows bent behind me and ankles bound and his knee firmly between my legs, I could not throw him off ... but he seemed to enjoy my determined squirming.

“You look very sexy when you squirm,” he said with an infuriating smile, “a real turn-on ... if you like that sort of thing.”

Furious with impotent rage, I eventually gave up the struggle and eyed him angrily. He just smiled an even broader smile, and systematically began to loop the shoe lace around my ball sack. I could not see, but could feel my nuts being forced down low in the sack as the fabric shoe-lace circled the scrotum several times before being knotted very thoroughly.

Once again I was very conscious of my rigid member, but unlike in my previous life (before the events of the last few days) I was not embarrassed. Just totally amazed ... and horny beyond belief.

With a sudden movement Harry released his knee from between my legs, and before I knew what was happening, I was on my face on the bed with my ankles in the air, and they were being roped to my wrists. Hogtied again! But this time naked and under the hands of the man who I had always regarded as being the closest friend I'd ever had.

He rolled me onto my side, facing him. He knelt beside the bed and tugged at the lace now so firmly attached to my scrotum. His smiling lips approached the steaming cock as he tugged on the two ends of the lace. I held what little breath I was getting from my gagged face. Was he going to kiss it – take it into his mouth? My mind blanked at the possibility. Then I felt him blow on it, teasingly. A gentle breath through pursed lips directly onto my burning nob-end. The bastard!

He again reached into the bag and produced a small tube of something. When the gel touched my cock it felt cool. With panic I wondered if it was deep heat rub: the sort of stuff we used for sports injuries and bruising, and in locker-room games in the old days. Adolescent boys would grab and tease one another by applying deep-heat cream to cocks and arses. Rough-house games which I always avoided. Always an observer, never a participant.

“Don’t worry, just pain relief,” he said as he waited for the local aesthetic cream to shrivel my cock. In my minds’ eye I saw my dick lose it’s rigidity and felt it flop – before it wilted against my thigh. In my hogtied, on my side position, I could not see it – and although I saw his hand dip again into his hold-all, I did not see what came out of it – as he again reached for my groin. The cream had done it’s work and removed most of the sensation from the immediate area. From experience I knew this was a temporary condition, but as Harry concentrated on his task I had no idea what was happening and could not ask.

After a couple of indistinct pinches of skin around my cock and balls, I eventually heard the unmistakable click of a padlock.

“Just an efficient little device that prevents you getting a hard-on. It’s all plastic except the padlock, so you can shower with it on ... and it won’t come off. Believe me I’ve tested it rigorously myself, and I know. You will wear it until you prove to me that you’ve started to learn a few overdue lessons, Dan mate. So, now here come a few of the answers you’ve been so eager to get about your recent experiences. Sit up and take notice. I mean you sit up, not your cock. That little fellow is going to get a good rest after all the fun it’s had over the past day or so.”

Leaning over my naked hog-tied body this devilishly calm and smiling, rich smelling man released the rope between my wrists and ankles. And, as I straightened my legs, he pulled on the rope between my ankles until the legs were bent again. Before I had any chance to resist, he had attached the ankle rope to the lace around my scrotum. As I lay back heavily on my useless arms, I knew there was no way I could straighten my legs again without ripping my balls off. With that, a firm hand behind my neck pulled me up into a sitting position. Another short rope was very soon threaded through the two ropes which crossed high on my chest just below my throat. Because this was tied in a figure of eight around my shoulders, when it was pulled downwards and attached to my ankles ... there was no danger of choking or it slipping free. My torso was uncomfortably and inescapably fixed tight to my ankles, my knees almost under my taped-up chin.

With wrists still pulled tight high up between my shoulder blades in back and sitting hunched forwards I could hardly move a muscle. To make matters worse, my cock was beginning to wake up and, inside it’s confining new plastic cage, it was throbbing and squeezing against the bars of this fiendish device.

Smiling into my gagged face Harry now clambered up onto the bed in front of me. Standing with feet on either side of my crouched figure, his boxer shorts were immediately in my face. My apprehensive eyes stared at his obvious hard-on. But he must have been wearing a jock-strap under his boxers, I reasoned, judging by the bulky upright bulge. With surprising strength, his hands lifted under my armpits and shifted my not inconsiderable body weight closer to the headboard of the metal-framed bed. He hummed a merry tune as he cinched yet more rope to my bonds until I was inescapably attached by my shoulders to the bed head. During this process his bulging crotch moved tantalisingly against my gagged face – and the rich scent of his groin made me even more painfully aware of my implacably confined penis.

With a final playful thrust of his crotch against my face, this fiendish alter-ego of the man I still thought of as a friend, settled himself kneeling on the bed in front of me to survey his handiwork. Sitting with my knees scrunched up almost against my throat, ankles roped to neck, ankles to scrotum and with wrists trapped and useless somewhere up behind my back ... what could I do? Tentatively, I tested the roping. I flexed, I squirmed, I tugged with all my bodyweight against the bed head, all the time aware of the smiling eyes watching my determined but totally unsuccessful efforts. Eventually, I admitted to myself the futility, and accepted that I could do nothing but sit and stare into the eyes of this man in whom I had always put so much trust.

“Well now,” he said, when confident that all my struggling had ceased, “for openers, here’s the way it is, Chief Inspector Daniel Drummond ... Bulldog, old boy. Your Chief, dear old woolly Wally Carter, invited me in specially to keep an eye on you for the next few days ... after your ‘nasty’ experience. Well! Little did he know I’d fancied the pants off you since we were both fifteen. But you’ve always been so fucking moral I’d given you up for lost. But suddenly here you are. And when you started raving on about tying you down ... or tying you up. Well, how could I say ‘No,’ Bull, my old buddy? Maybe your traumatic experiences of the past few days have unleashed some of that pent up energy that’s been stagnating between your legs for too long.”

A rubber-gloved hand slid between my cramped legs and found my balls. Fingers lightly roamed around the infernal plastic cage.

“This little device may only feel like Perspex, but it’s high technology; high security stuff. Believe me, I’ve been driven to attack one with a pair of pliers when I’ve been really desperate to escape it’s confines. They’re virtually indestructible.”

He knew what he as doing as he continued to finger and stroke my trapped and scrunched-up cock. I felt it expand even more and there was nowhere for it to expand to. My eyes, above cheeks that were still bulging under the implacable adhesive tape, twitched nervously. The immobilised tongue and teeth were as if in a state of suspended animation ... but my juices were racing and I was sweating.

“Well now,” he said as he climbed jauntily off the bed, “This being your apartment, there isn’t the sophisticated equipment we have back at our little base. OK, you had some rope and tape – and the ball. You took me by surprise with the ball. I think even I would have drawn the line at that – but you asked for it.” He shrugged. “I hope you think I put what was available to good use. But now you’re all nicely primed and ready for the next phase – I’m sure you won’t object if I take off for a while – make a few calls – pick up a few ... things. I’ll be back here in – what – a couple of hours – maybe six – with my slightly bigger bag of tricks. Maybe some ... back-up. But, while I’m gone, Dan-boy, whatever you do ... don’t start without me.”

With that, he disappeared and returned pulling on a pair of pants and then shoes and a rugged-looking weatherproof jacket. He suddenly stopped and looked at me. “Give us a struggle, Dan. It really turns me on to see you struggling and helpless.”

I glared at him and refused to indulge him. Acknowledging my refusal he, with a grin of sheer devilment, clambered up and, kneeling on the bed in front of me, took my ears in his hands and planted a kiss where my mouth stood open behind the adhesive tape.

“We’re neither of us the men the world thinks we are, Dan, believe me. And when I get back, I’ll set about proving to you that there’s more inside you than you’ve ever allowed out. Hang in there. I know that position will become intolerable. I know, because I’ve been there – and I’ve learned to – well, I won’t say enjoy it, exactly. Don’t think of this as torture – think of it more as a softening up process. Not just of the body – but of the mind. It’s not so much your body I want to fuck with, Dan-boy – have you ever heard of a ‘Mind-fuck’? Well, you’re in for quite an experience. So, you hang in there. Deal with it, however much energy it takes, and when I get back – you’ll be ready for me – no! – you’ll welcome me - believe me.”