It began simply enough…
Back when I was a teenager there was this one friend of mine who was determined to try and nail me. He was convinced some day he was going to take me down in a wrestling match, despite the fact he was a little younger, a lot smaller, and a whole lot weaker. Hard farm work builds you tough and lasting. He was a city boy. But he was determined, I’ll give him that. Still, every time he jumped me, I would turn it on him, put him in a lock hold, twist him into some helpless pretzel and then grab him in the ribs until he turned red and cried tears of laughter and defeat crying “You win, you win!!”
Then at some point he decided he was going to finally get some revenge.
“Won’t be much longer and you won’t ever be able to put me down again. I’m catching up to you in size.” He said with a smirk, flexing the muscle he was striving to build through weightlifting. I smiled back, unconcerned.
“Yeah, that’ll be the day. I could take you anytime, anywhere, anyhow.” I never gave credit he was setting me up for a verbal one-two punch.
“Yeah, I hear you, but you can’t back that up, you struggle with me now, I’m not as easy to put down as I used to be.”
“Boy,” I said, “I could take you with both arms tied behind my back.” He knew this was one of my favorite sayings. I guess he decided to call my bluff.
“Okay, let’s try!” We were in his basement and his folks were gone for the entire day. We had watched a movie and were feeling restless. When he said this I jumped a little. Not expecting that I had started on the path he wanted from me. He asked me to hold on a minute, and he ran upstairs. He came back shortly with a belt. “You ready?”
Not wanting to seem weak to the little overbearing runt, I said sure, stood tall and turned around and put my hands behind my back. He strapped them tight, wrapping it around my wrists and then fastening it tightly. The whole time I was thinking, “This is not going to be easy.” If I had only known.
It got tricky…
I have to give myself credit. After we pushed away the TV and other furniture in the half finished basement, I stood my ground pretty well. Ducked him a few times, flung him off a couple, even got him pinned under my weight one time on the couch. But finally he went for my legs and tumbled me onto my back and before I could move he was on top of me. He straddled me solidly, bracing his legs along side my ribs and pressing his weight on my stomach and chest, making it hard to breathe. “Now who’s on top, huh?” He leaned over my face and was smiling to no end. I struggled and twisted but to no avail.
“Alright, I guess I can’t take you with both hands, but at least with one arm free I could still!” I nearly shouted back defiantly. He smiled, whether it was from his plan working flawlessly, or a new inspiration I still don’t know.
“Oh, tough guy huh? Okay, you want to try that one?”
Shoot, me and my mouth. “Sure!” I spit back almost mad at him or me for being so cornered in this.
He jumped up and slid an old footstool across the floor in front of a support pole that held the ceiling beams in place. “Here.” He extended a hand and grabbed my arm then hoisted and I stumbled to my feet a little, he kind of then pulled forward, and twisted so I landed on the footstool in a sitting position. “What was that for?” I asked.
“What, just getting you up so I can untie your hands.” Then he did just that. It felt good to let the blood flow into my poor aching wrists. “Now, how am I going to tie one hand…wait, I got a better idea, instead of tying the hand behind your back, I’m going to tie it to this pole.”
“Why?” I asked, thinking this was a dumb idea.
“Well, I don’t want you to fall wrong and break an arm, or get out, so if I tie your arm to this pole your arm will be out of the picture.”
“And I will be stuck right here.” I added, not part of the original plan.
“Don’t worry, I’ll come to you. Besides, this will make it more interesting.” It sure did that.
“Fine, whatever, this is getting old, let’s get it over with.” I went to stand, and he pushed me back down.
“Just sit and lift your arm over your head.” So I did. He started with the belt and I felt it fumble a couple times. “Here, give me your other arm to hold the belt in place.” I sighed, reached up with my other arm over my head and held one end of the belt in place while he looped it around my wrist, then I felt something on that hand, colder, metal, and I heard it click shut, before I could even react, something dropped on my other hand and clicked shut as well.
“What th-?” I pulled at my hands and they stopped short at the pole, something clanging on them. “Handcuffs?!?” He then reached under a cushion on the couch and pulled out a pillow case which he then smiled once, and slid over my head. “What the hell is this about?!” No answer. I squirmed on the footstool, trying to get up but finding it awkward.
“Just thought I would mess with your mind a little.” He said.
“Well, yeah, enough of that…” Then I felt him grab my left leg and lift it, only to let it drop a moment later. I steeled it so it would not lift again, but then he grabbed my right leg and did the same. “What are you-?” I then felt a rope pull taut about both ankles and yank my outstretched legs into the footstool where the lasso he had spread under my feet ran under the legs of the footstool. He then tied off the rope. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Revenge.” It was the last words from me. Still blind under the pillow case, I next felt a strap of something go around my head, and then pull tight around my mouth. I was not happy and I shook, trying to pull away as it tightened more and then secured. I was gagged as well. Next thing I felt was this shove as something slammed into the footstool and pushed hard. It started sliding away from the pole, fast. Before I could really react the handcuffs pulled back on my outstretched arms and forced me to lay back as the footstool slid, and then stretched me taut from the pole to the footstool, my wrists to my ankles. The footstool only came up to halfway on my butt, and my whole upper body was stretched tight as my hands slid down to the floor almost, and I felt my back arch uncomfortably. My ankles were pulled back, bending my legs to their max and making me almost rise up off the stool.
He then reached down and ripped open the pillow case and pulled it down around the gag. I could now see clearly as he stood up and admired his handiwork. He had me and we both knew it. Of course, I had no idea what was in store. I struggled, then decided to try and relax. What would he do? Nothing much.
He then walked over to a dresser and an old fridge in the basement, opened both and started hooking things under his arms, then closed them and came back. I could see sodas, an old bent up coat hanger, and a huge pair of shears. He dropped his stuff on the couch and then kneeled between me and the couch.
It then got strange…
“So, how does it feel to be helpless?” He smiled and rested his hand on my stomach. I wasn’t even going to try and speak since I couldn’t. At this point I knew something was going to happen beyond a grab in the ribs, but I still had no idea. My breathing was hard from the pillow case muffling it, and the exertion of trying to get loose so my stomach was lifting up and down and I felt every muscle tense as I waited for what was coming. He felt my stomach tense as well. “My, my a little six pack, huh?” He then pressed harder and starting swirling his hand around so that my shirt rode up some as he massaged my stomach. I started freaking a little as the cool air hit my bare skin. He saw it in my eyes and laughed, then gently slipped his hand to the edge of my shirt and slowly slid it up, going back and forth, across my belly button, my stomach, my ribcage, flexed out to the max with my back arched, up to my chest and across my nipples. He then pushed the shirt up over my armpits, and pulled it over my head and up my extended arms, till it fell flat around my bound wrists.
Then he twirled his fingers in my chest hair, just a little, but enough for him to catch it in his grip and pull a little here and there as he swirled his fingers closer and closer to my nipples, which hardened. He began pressing against them. “Let’s try something else. Since you are so cool…” He lifted two sodas and then stood straddling me, and then settled in place, putting his full weight right on my groin at the edge of the footstool. He then pressed the sodas against my flexed ribs. I thought my back was arched before. I lifted and hyperextended, pushing myself to my limit as the cold needles stabbed into me. I felt his weight press against me as I lifted. I knew I was getting hard. I remembered wondering if he could feel me under his weight, through my shorts?
He then gently placed the sodas on my chest, rolling them up over my ribs onto my stomach. My stomach was pumping now, up and down and the cold spread over me. Again and again he rolled them and then lifted them and placed the ends on my nipples. When he took them away he looked down appreciatively and then ran his fingers over them. He then got up and I could feel a slight dampness in my shorts, from my growing excitement. I wasn’t afraid so much as overwhelmed. The sodas weren’t painful, but awfully arousing. The cold still shivered through me, and beads of moisture from the cans were now running up my chest, onto my underarms and down my sides, each sending a new thrill of cold.
He lifted the old coathanger off the couch and came back and took his place, twisting around a little, almost like a dog settling into its bed, each twist pushing at me and pulling on me until I felt like thrusting ever so slightly. I didn’t know if this was his intention but he was…ooohh.
He then fiddled with the coathanger. It was one of those kind with a cardboard bottom piece, which he took off, leaving two metal hooks, which he twisted in one direction and then folded the arms down so they shaped a `V’. He then leaned forward and placed the metal hooks along my underarm, and then began pulling.
They were sharp, but not real sharp. They did not cut, but every inch they moved over my skin they made me jerk and want to yell. They slid up my arm, into my armpit, and then along side my chest, my ribs, and to my hips. I felt them go over every rib, and felt my stomach almost painfully tighten as the shrill touch slid along my side. I twisted hard and began to grunt under the gag. He then knew he had me. He pressed and ran it again and again. Then he stopped, looked down at me and then held the hooks over my nipples. The arms matched them perfectly. I knew this step and I started shaking my head no, back and forth. To no avail. He pressed one hook into the flesh of my left nipple and then the other into my right one.
I reached even further, and almost threw him off that time as the feelings shot into me. Again, not pain, but pure sensation. It tingled and almost hurt, but in a weird way. He grabbed my side to steady himself as I twisted and turned and arched up and down. It must have looked like a rodeo race as I bucked my body underneath of him. His weight pressing against me and twisting and turning. He then took them away and I fell onto the footstool. I was now sweating, mixing with the cold water and the tingling of the metal hooks tickling me still echoed through every nerve ending. He reached out his hand and pressed it against my chest. “Nice heartbeat.” He smiled. It was racing.
Then he got up again. I almost did not want his weight to leave me. The feeling of him pressing…
Then it hit me. He knew exactly what he was doing, every step. He knew what he was doing to me and I wondered where it would end.
Then it got heavy…
He got a couple fresh sodas out of the fridge. Then he knelt next to me. I felt disappointed in a way. I was expecting something new. I should not have doubted him. He smiled, then slid a hand under the elastic waistband of my shorts and underwear, just barely. I jumped. His touch that low on my stomach, lower than anyone had ever touched, was as electric as the hanger. He then pried and lifted, stretching the elastic. He then slipped a soda under my shorts and underwear. The cold hit my erection already holding my shorts up like a tent. I felt it especially touch my head and I jumped and squeaked. He laughed and inserted another. He then moved between my legs and reached up. I was breathing so hard now I could barely stand it. Then he grabbed the sodas through my shorts and lined them up perfectly alongside my erection, one on either side, and pressed them together. I jumped higher than ever, thinking surely my back would break as the ice cold sunk into my sensitive flesh. He then slid them down further and pressed up on them, pushing them into my sac. I thrashed on the footstool. Bouncing and screaming under the gag. Then he let go and they fell limp in my shorts. I fell on my back. “Here, let me get those for you.” I then felt his cold hand on my thigh, as it slid up my shorts, and under, and then into my boxers as well. He stopped at the top of my leg, right on my hip and then made his way over. His fingers pressed into my pubic hair, and I felt them brush my shaft and my sac as they reached for the sodas, even through the numbness. I jumped again.
I looked up, like a pathetic slave. I was now super sensitive over my whole body. He grabbed the sodas and lifted and slid them out pressing and sliding them along the inside of my thigh before breaking contact. He stood up again and surveyed the whole scene. “So, how about those frozen nuts?” He laughed, and so help me, so did I, because the joke reminded me of the feeling. “I should check on them, and you seem pretty intent on showing off anyway. So…” He reached for the hedge shears and then laid the bottom blade on my leg, and slid it up my shorts and boxers, the blades divided by the cloth. He then smiled and pulled the handles together, slicing. I felt the cloth snag and begin cutting and my heart felt like it would leap out of my chest. I heard the cloth slice, felt my shorts begin to open, and then slice through and fall down on my left side. I didn’t know what I was feeling as I finally realized how far he was going to go. I trembled with excitement, and surprise. He then repeated the process on my right side. He then took the shear, stood up and then placed the point dead center on my chest, sliding it down. He stopped on my lower stomach when he reached the flap of sliced shorts and looked at me. “You’re mine now.” He said and then he casually flipped them back, letting the flap fall between my legs. I was totally naked, lying there bound and gagged and feeling an excitement like I had never known. He then knelt between my legs and began stroking my shaft and head, fingering it, and rubbing his thumb across the tip. With his other hand he slid his hand up my soaked stomach and chest, with long appreciative sweeps, grabbing my nipples and sliding over my ribs and armpits. I was spent in every way, except down below. I was keyed and ready. But he took his time. He gently stroked my scrotum and shaft. I laid my head back and sighed each time. I began thrusting my body to his touch, pushing up, barely able to, but wanting to, every muscle wanting to.
He then half stood and smiled. “You ready to cum?” I looked him straight in the eyes, never thinking I would feel what I was feeling at that moment. I waited and then I shook my head yes. He smiled. “I win.” He then leaned forward with one hand, diving into my ribs and grabbing my soaked sides, slipping over the wet, smooth flesh of my sides and I thrashed again. At the same time, his other hand locked tight around my shaft and began pumping with all his strength. I cried, as waves of ecstasy and laughter ran through me. I thought I would die, I thought I would explode.
Another minute, and I did, even as I laughed.
My cum shot past my face, onto the pole and floor, as he jerked and jerked, my body pumping and twisting, and I saw him in that moment as he was staring, watching me, every inch of me, mesmerizing my muscles tense and relax, with glistening sweat and water. He felt me up with his hand, feeling the muscles tighten, loosen, tighten, loosen. He felt my thighs compress and push, my stomach clench, and then my limp body fall flat as I shot my load.
He then took one last, loving stroke along my side, and untied me and ungagged me. I lay there a while, not moving. “So, did I win?”
I smiled, a little wickedly. “You won, this time.”