This short story describes a very early real-life experience of the author.

As a young trainee journalist on a small-town Lancashire paper, he is in digs with a young married couple. The husband, a 25 year-old dark and brooding bike-riding ex-navy guy views the 17 year old lodger as a ‘city boy’ in need of some toughening up - so invites him on hiking and fishing trips up the rugged Cumbrian Coast.

The husband, ’Banny’, is extremely fancyable but the younger man knows from the start that any overture would be predictably dangerous ... so keeps quiet about his secret long-term interest in tying-up games. But …

... While out in the wilds I had, on previous occasions, casually broached the subject of tying-up. This interest I explained away by saying I had an idea for a magazine article about Houdini when he was touring Northern England in the Twenties. The Escape Artist issued challenges to the locals in every town he visited and (according to the record) never failed to escape from whatever roping or other ties people brought to him.

Calling on Banny’s recent navy experience, I’d swung the conversation round to rope and cable tying techniques. Hammock stowing and lashing and general horse-play with guys getting lashed up in their hammocks or to deck-rails at night were, I already knew, old navy practices. So, tying up techniques suddenly became a legitimate topic - me speculating on what sort of challenges might be brought to an Escape Artist by the public today.

On a fishing trip up the Cumbrian coast, we were sleeping overnight as we’d done a couple of times before - me struggling to maintain our ‘straight mates’ relationship. The weather was foul so not only were we in the tent early, but because it was intensely cold and damp Banny continued to wear his Black Prince bike suit and I the ex-navy foul weather suit and boots which I usually borrowed from him for such trips.

Inside the tent from early dusk, I reintroduced the topic of practical modern-day Houdini challenges. Banny mentioned that on board one ship there had been a ‘regular Houdini-freak’ - but wasn’t forthcoming with any details - and changed the subject. Later that evening, after a wet bike ride out for a couple of beers and fish and chips, back in the tent I steered the conversation back to how Houdini could have been foiled. Banny wasn’t easy to convince that he might know a useful trick or two, but he did say he’d watched as others challenged the guy aboard ship. When I asked how and if the guy got out - he laughed and said there were several simple ways to rope somebody inescapably. That was all the encouragement I needed - in the cause of ‘research’ he had to show me.

He had fishing line, a few odd straps (for strapping things to his bike) and some rope - and I’d thoughtfully packed some extra rope just in case, as the saying goes. It seemed acceptable to him to while away a couple of otherwise tedious hours - and I was secretly determined to spend all night trussed up next to this dark and sexy man still dressed in his sea-boots and a Black Prince suit worn over corduroys and seaman’s sweater.

Me still head-to-foot in oilskins, I suggested wearing gloves so my hands wouldn’t get cold if the escape took ... “too long”. He refused to allow gloves because he instinctively knew this would make escape easier. Being a practical man he approached the challenge seriously. After tying my hands efficiently but not dangerously tightly behind my back (in a small tent, this meant me lying face down with him kneeling astride me) he then used a small canvas pouch he kept fishing weights in to cover both my hands, cinching the strap tight enough around my wrists to stop me working it off. He said it was to keep my hands warm but it also prevented me using my fingers through the thick canvas. I suggested that with Houdini, it would have been wise to also tie the ankles and perhaps knees - just for good measure. Banny goodnaturedly accepted the point.

Needless to say the ropes were inescapable. He was ready to let me free almost immediately and it wasn’t easy to invent excuses to persuade him to leave me trussed all night. Eventually, I just said ‘Fuck it Banny, it feels great! I think I must be kinky. I like the feeling of being bundled up and tied up with no possibility of escape’.

Well, I guess that’s when I learned that honesty pays. It made him smile his quizzical dark-eyed smile, but from then on he would tie me up whenever a suitable opportunity arose - his reasoning being that my struggling and straining to escape was toughening me up. So, his willingness to invent quite strenuous challenges was justified in his mind.

His refusal, over a period of six months indulging in these challenges, to admit any erotic involvement drove me crazy with frustration. But I convinced myself that one false move on my part could spook him. If any of our activities become openly sexual, our relationship would either explode or freeze.

The story continues ...

For more excerpts see ‘Black Prince’

INDEX TO ALL 'STORYLINE' ROPING DESCRIPTIONS

Initiative Test
Well Waxed & Waterproof
Top Ridge Farm
Houdini Connections
Man-to-man Stuff

COMPETITIVE MASOCHISM - challenge rope-tie