Rugged twenty-three year old Yorkshire hill farmer Dan Bellkirk’s enthusiasm for inventing ways to test and challenge his younger brother, Andy, usually involved some sort of wrapping, strapping, chaining or tying.

In the first of five rope-ties described, Andy is currently tied to a tree in the pouring rain during one of Dan’s so-called ‘experiments’ (to test whether a new waterproof industrial-weight work suit is truly watertight).
Andy assess his predicament ...

TREE TIE
As rain continued to torrent down, Andy blew at the drop which kept forming on the end of his nose. Still surprised how minimal the tying was, he watched his brothers bulky black oilskin- suited figure disappear out of the orchard before beginning to take stock of this predicament.

Wrists close by his side but skilfully anchored around the narrow tree trunk, so going nowhere. Dan had even allowed thick waterproof gloves - but Andy knew the expert knotsman had made sure these would offer no chance to wriggle out of them and loosen the roping. His boots, too, weren’t uncomfortably far apart like on some previous occasions - but neatly counter-lashed so they couldn’t move in any direction. Apart from that - nothing. No chest or waist or knee ropes. Andy tested the efficiency of this simple roping but by tugging against the slim tree - suddenly even more water was cascading down on him. Andy had been surprised Dan had chosen such a young tree. Now he knew why! Every move shook more water down on him - but as rain was still pissing down, he tested the efficiency of the wrist and ankle lashings. Nothing shifted; Andy would have been amazed if it had. His brother had been practicing these skills on him since Andy had been old enough to remember.

To occupy his mind during the promised four-hour ordeal, Andy thinks back on previous experiences …

LADDER TIE
Like the time when he’d slipped on the loft ladder in the barn - and been rash enough to call out for help. Finding his brother hanging precariously by his tough coveralls caught on a spike halfway between ground and loft, Dan’s help had consisted of quickly shinning up to first lash Andy’s wrists to the rung they were clinging to, before systematically lashing every part of his body to the lower rungs until totally immobilised from fingers to boots ... including his damned cock, which had been pulled out and was soon laced to a convenient rung! ‘To save him from falling off’ Dan had said. He’d then given his butt a few playful whacks with an old leather harness strap (‘To teach him to be more careful’) before leaving him tied there until supper time.

‘Big’ Dan Bellkirk appreciated any good piece of equipment and always liked to test it.

GATE TIE
Trips into Cattle Markets or army surplus stores often produced spectacular finds. A World War Two tank suit made from heavy canvas with metal zips from neck to ankles was something Dan had picked up recently. It was thickly padded and water repellent (to some extent). Because Andy wasn’t often allowed to ride with Dan on his motorbike, the Tank Suit had been suggested as an economical alternative to bike leathers like the ones Dan had bought himself a few years ago.

The first time Andy had been in the Tank Suit started out as a brotherly trip to the local cinema. But the night at the pictures ended abruptly for Andy before it began. As soon as they’d ridden out of sight of the farm house, Dan had turned onto a muddy lane and up onto the fells. Reminding his brother that all new equipment must be tested for efficiency - by morning they would know if it was well enough insulated.

Producing heavy gloves, a balaclava and the inevitable supply of good solid rope, Dan had lashed Andy to a metal five barred gate. And it was a spectacularly elaborate tie - not that any passer-by would see it even though there was a good moon.

Feet apart and square lashed at ankles, knees, thighs, waist and chest the gate bars held the padded body totally immobilised. Because each individual lashing had been meticulously made-off and knotted to prevent any slipping between knots, it was Master Class in roping. Arms had then been systematically pulled back over the top bar so gauntleted wrists plus both above and below elbows could be lashed individually to the back of the various bars.

And because a field gate high on an exposed hillside on a stormy night doesn’t get many casual passers-by, Andy was there until his brother decided to return and let him loose.

After the pictures turned out, Andy saw the approaching headlamp and heard his brother’s motorcycle approach along the muddy track ... but Dan, having inspected the knots and checked Andy’s circulation, rode away again, deaf to his brother’s pleading and shouted abuse. By five o’clock next morning Andy was too stiff and cold to do more than climb into the land rover and have a long hot shower while his brother did the morning milking single-handed.

Punishment for Andy getting his rocks off without permission could take many forms - and Dan was always full of surprises …

HOGTIE
After three days of gales and rain, the lads decided they should take a look at the damage in the woods behind the top meadow. Although the ground was a bit soft Dan was wearing his high lace-up Combat boots, the cammo pants with lots of useful pockets, and a plain green vest under his open Combat jacket. The jaunty cammo field cap topped off the complete picture Andy saw as he trudged behind his brother up the steep muddy sheep track.

The going was heavier for the younger man who was sweltering inside two layers of thermal underwear and hobnailed rubber thigh boots which were, in turn, underneath a two-piece industrial protective over-suit buttoned right up to the neck. This gear was only part of the price of having lost his load the previous day. On top of the heavily padded clothing a canvas back-pack weighed heavily on his brawny shoulders and underneath everything, a solid six inch butt plug shifted uneasily at every false step the heavy-soled boots made on the slippery climb. Dan looked back and grinned as his brother sweated and panted to keep up the pace he was setting.

“Still feeling horny, randy little sod? Soon be there. Then you can have a nice rest while I look around the wood to see what needs to be done.” As he said this Dan teasingly showed Andy that there was rope coiled neatly in all four pockets of his cammos. Then like a conjurer he produced a thick black rubber gag from his chest pocket.

“Got something for you to chew on while I’m eating all the food your Mummy packed for her baby’s dinner.”

At the top of the top meadow the solid old dry stone wall shielded them from the wind and from direct view from any angle. It had been a favourite play spot for the lads since early days.

“OK, back-pack off,” Dan ordered , and Andy struggled to free his aching shoulders from the heavy load. The carefully prepared lunches took up only one pocket of the big canvas haversack. In addition to the two wood saws and a ten pound axe, at least half the sack was filled with small rocks. All part of the punishment for ‘getting his rocks off’ without permission .

“Face down” commanded Dan in a friendly tone. The hesitation was only fractional but enough to make the bigger man’s thick eyebrows arch questioningly. "Worried about getting your nice new suit dirty? The Farmers Weekly says it’ll keep out rain, wind, piss and cow shit. We may have to put that to the test.”

Andy eased himself to his knees. The tightness of two pairs of long johns inside thigh high heavy-duty rubber boots inside the dark green PVC bib-and-brace over trouser with a heavy buttoned up matching coat over the top , resulted in pulling and stretching of the different tough fabrics in many directions.
“What about gloves?” the victim asked as he knelt on the soft soggy earth in front of his brother’s bulging army pants.
“No gloves. I want you to feel the ankles and hobnail soles of your waders. Y‘know they’re really for people who work in sewers. Maybe there’s still shit tucked away in the deep cleats. On your face, sucker!”

This was, by now, a familiar routine. The hog-tie was one of Dan’s favourites, perhaps because Andy didn’t much like it ... but more because it was good to watch his brother’s strong arms and legs pulled back together, straining but helpless with wrists and heavy boots firmly lashed and finished with unreachable knots. Perhaps he’d piss on his head and leave him face down looking into a puddle as it dripped off his tousled hair. That butt plug was an inspiration ... specially for a hog-tie session, thought Dan as he watched Andy ease himself painfully onto his stomach and dutifully place his hands along his sides ... which was as close as the thick clothing would allow him to get them behind his back. Although this had become a well drilled routine, Dan liked to prolong the suspense. He moved his tall combat boots slowly closer to Andy’s head. They must seem huge from that worm’s‑eye‑view, thought Dan.

Towering over the bundled up, brawny but submissive piece of manhood, the tormentor subtly shifted first one boot and then the other closer to either side of his brother’s face. The result was two small mounds of wet earth which rose before the cleated boot soles and travelled slowly towards the unprotected head. The mounds stopped moving abruptly and the oppressive boots disappeared from Andy’s view as his brother stepped over his back and roped first one wrist and then the other into a simple but totally efficient ‘linking’ lash which left his bound wrists about a foot apart. Then came the moment Andy dreaded, as a second rope, having lashed the ankles together began to slowly haul the tight-legged boots skyward. The pressure of the plug inevitably forced it’s way further and further up into his arse.

Even in his agony Andy pictured his brother’s smiling, weather-beaten face as he gently drew the feet not only up towards the lashed wrists but firmly in between them, isolating the hands on either side of thick rubber ankles. A couple of deft turns of rope rendered the tie totally escape-proof. Andy knew from long experience that his brother not only knew how to make ties effective ... but also not tight enough to actually cut off the circulation. As Andy lay adjusting his tortured body to the situation he knew he’d be there for several hours. Dan’s games seldom held up their farm work.
If Andy was incapacitated Dan would willingly double his effort to make sure the work didn’t suffer. He was a good farm manager ... and undoubtedly the Master of Top Ridge.

The massive army boots reappeared in Andy’s limited field of ground-level vision. If he tried to turn his head to either left or right he was confronted by the two fresh mounds of soggy leaves, mud and sheep droppings.

“Comfortable?” enquired a voice from on high, but Andy knew that a reply was not required. His brother was well aware that the strain on the shoulders would continue to increase for the first hour, before other more deadening physical developments would begin to occupy the mind. Because of the heavy protective covering and tight‑legged rubber boots the knees were particularly pressurised ... but the tightly packed anal passage would probably keep his mind off the other pains. Andy’s fingers explore the surface of his boots. Dan was right about him being able to feel the smooth surface, explore the wrinkles caused by the skilful rope lashings ... even reach up onto the metal studded thick leather soles.

“Feeling for the shit and mud?” Without warning a fist full of sticky cold slime was dumped on Andy’s captive fingers, and smeared around the rubber ankles and leather soles.

Later in the story Andy takes a risk and plans to give his brother a taste of his own medicine. In the barn, the younger man has been tidying up while his brother has driven their mother to the station for a weekend with her sister in York .

With both men in combat gear - as soon as his brother has returned, Andy suddenly makes his move …

POST TIE
… Before Dan knew what was happening the centre of a length of chain was around his neck from behind and pulling him backwards off balance. Unexpectedly, his back slammed against a sturdy upright post, because Andy had neatly handled the chain to bring it around opposite sides of the pillar. Even though Dad had grabbed at the chain around his throat, Andy, now safe behind the pillar, was able to pull it snug before throwing the ends forward again and crossing them once more around his brother’s throat before bringing the ends back around the solid pillar.

Now the immediately danger was over, he had time to organise. Taking each end separately around and between the post and the back of Dan’s struggling head, the two ends of chain fell neatly between the post and his brother’s broad back. Dan was yelling blue murder but Andy wasn’t listening. The excitement was high and the adrenaline flowing.

Dan’s hands were frantically exploring the triple wrapping of chain across the front of his jacket collar to find some slack. Unfortunately for him, this placed his elbows in an ideal position for Andy to loop a length of rope he’d produced from his pocket first around one, then around the other elbow from behind the post. The thickness of Dan’s combat jacket prevented him from feeling the manoeuvre until his elbows began to be dragged unstoppably around either side of the pillar before being drawn painfully tight together. Desperately separating his wrists did not help Dan as Andy completed a thoroughly professional square lash around his brother’s elbows, mimicking instructions the way Dan often did while tying a knot.

“Twice around not too tight, then cross the rope and twice between pulling tight ... then a reef knot, not a Granny.” recited Andy imitating the mocking tone his brother so often used. Then, with a second piece of rope, first one flailing wrist was neatly looped, leaving no problem in catching the other and anchoring them firmly together behind the pillar. Dan was still yelling invective, but he knew that with elbows pinioned and wrists efficiently lashed around the sturdy wooden post there was no escape. As the final knot above the wrists was cinched an ominous silence fell.

Andy circled the pillar at a safe distance out of reach of Dan’s feet. The brothers eyed one another ... both slightly out of breath.
“You’ve gone crazy, right? You’ve decided to have a brainstorm.”
“I’ve decided to have a change,” said Andy with a smile as he produced another snake of rope from the deep pocket of his field pants leg, “and show you just how well I’ve learned all the things you’ve taught me over the years.”

Dan glowered as his brother returned out of sight behind the pillar, before saying. “You’re going to fucking learn what it feels like to be crippled for life, matey!” And with that, a vicious boot lashed out around the pillar in the direction of where Andy might have been kneeling. It was a mistake. A waiting loop of rope lassoed the sturdy boot and tethered it before circling the other and dragging Dan‘s helpless feet well back on either side of the firmly planted post. A neat job of counter-lashing made it impossible for the feet to be moved either forward or backwards. Dan blasphemed threateningly as yet another piece of rope circled each leg just above the knee from behind the post, pulling them backwards and further open. The rope was long enough to continue around the front and insure that the well tied knees also could not move forwards or backwards. Andy grinned up at his brother as even more rope appeared. He enjoyed threading this rope between his brother’s muscular thighs high around his crotch. Experience had taught Andy that when the thighs are looped and pulled back, not only do the legs soon begin to ache but the crotch is thrust forward and very accessible. Having tied it off carefully, he stood back to survey the effect.

“So what now ... fuckface?”
“Give me time. I’m playing this by ear. I didn’t plan this. It was a spur of the moment decision.”
“Which you’re going to regret for the rest of your life ... if you live that long” growled Dan.
“Well, we’ll just have to see how things turn out ... and not cross our bridges till we get to them, as Gran used to say.”
“Gran won’t be around to get you out of this mess, mate ... or will Mam. I am going to ... “
“You’re going to stand there and wait until I decide what to do next!” interrupted Andy.
“Ho ho! That could take till Christmas. You’ve landed yourself in a right mess, little brother.” Dan’s voice was heavy with menace. Andy nodded.
“But I learned a long while ago to deal with every new development as it happened. It’s how I’ve survived all these years. Dealing with each problem and challenge as it arose.”

Dan snorted. “You’re main problem right now laddie is that I’m going to fucking beat the shit out of you.”
“Not for the next four days your not” came the ominous voice from behind the pillar, “Mam’s away and I think I can safely say I’m in control, and that’s the way it’s going to stay” ...

The story continues for several thousand words ....

For more excerpts see Top Ridge Farm

LINK to photos and drawings connected to this story?

INDEX TO ALL 'STORYLINE' ROPING DESCRIPTIONS

Black Prince
Initiative Test
Well Waxed & Waterproof

Houdini Connections
Man-to-man Stuff

COMPETITIVE MASOCHISM - challenge rope-tie