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Controlled Airspace (MMM/MMMFFmm)

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Gagman Inc
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Controlled Airspace (MMM/MMMFFmm)

Post by Gagman Inc »

Riley huffed through his nose as he set to work unlacing his remaining shoe. After he kicked it aside he pulled his socks off and tossed them on top of his discarded sneakers. The 12-year-old then set his palms on either side of his hips, fingers dug in against the scratchy airplane carpet. He stared up at the narrow doorway to the small supply closet he sat inside. Here the only light came from a tiny oblong window in the corridor beyond; it offered a small streak of deep orange afternoon sunlight, which beamed off Riley's youthful face. The scraggily blond boy's freckled face was contorted in a pissed-off scowl and the boy's rusty seawater eyes glared upward with anger.

Of course it was almost hard to tell what expression the boy was making, given the reams of tightly-layered athletic bandaging wrapped snugly about his lips and face. The dun-colored fabric stuck out along the boy's mouth and Riley's cheeks were similarly bulged, as if the boy were a chipmunk pocketing his haul. The 'haul' in this case happened to be a pair of Riley's own charcoal colored Jockeys, fresh from his carry-on duffel bag. The briefs stuck out both above and below the athletic bandage securing them in his mouth, with the undies' waistband poking up just beneath the boy's nose.

The gag ensured that Riley couldn't speak, but he sure stared daggers at the man standing in the doorway.

The man seemed amused by Riley's glare, giving the boy a smirk. He leaned against the supply closet doorway, arms crossed. In one hand he held a silenced pistol, dangling it lazily to the side. The sleeve of his shirt was hiked up just enough to expose a tattoo. It was three letters in delicate calligraphy: BRY.

"Don't bother trying for the 'pissed off little badass’ look, kid." The man chuckled. "No little boy can be called a 'badass' when they're munching on their own underwear, can they?"

Riley looked off to one side, his angry glare intensifying.

"’Miffle foy'..." He resentfully grumbled through his gag. A barely-audible muffled grunt was all that escaped the bandages and briefs. He'd only gagged himself minutes ago, and yet his cotton underwear was already soaking up the spit from his mouth, quickly becoming a heavy, sound-dampening wad.

"Yes, 'little boy'," Mister Bry could barely interpret Riley's muted mumbling. "I mean, what are you, like 10, or something?"

"Elubh!" The boy's narrow eyes thinned even more and he wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever." The man drew a circle with the pistol in his hand, motioning upward. "Butt off the carpet."

Riley resignedly pushed off the scratchy floor and got to his feet. He felt awkward standing before the man in his current state, wearing a heavy and embarrassing gag like this.

When the bad guys do this to kids on TV they just tie a loose cloth or dishtowel over their lips, Riley thought. Or maybe, at most, a nice shiny strip of duct tape. Riley couldn't remember seeing any show or movie where a captured kid get his mouth stuffed like this.

And certainly not with a pair of underwear!

This was embarrassing, all right, but it turns out the embarrassment was just beginning.

The masked man again twirled his silenced pistol, motioning to Riley's body.

"Okay, the shirt and the jeans," the man said, "Lose 'em.

Riley's eyes widened. A massive blush crept up his freckled cheeks (mercifully hidden beneath the reams of athletic bandages). The boy defensively crossed his arms and shook his head, bleating out a small, muffled protest through his gag.

The man rolled his eyes and stepped forward, He gently pressed the tip of the gun's silencer against the boy's forehead.

"Let's get one thing clear, kid. I’m not gonna shoot you unless you do one of two things: try to escape, or try to get someone's attention to save your helpless little butt. You do either of those things and I don't mind getting ‘little boy' brains all over the place, along with the brains of anyone you manage to get the attention of. Other than that? Hey, I'm not exactly that eager to plug a young kid. That said, I'm eager enough to get rough with you, if that's what it takes to make you behave like a good little boy. And I think you're probably smart enough to know that you're in no position to refuse anything that I demand of you."

Mister Bry removed his pistol fron Riley's head and tucked it away in his back pocket. He pressed his gloved hands together and cracked his knuckles, giving the boy a menacing look.

"So I'll repeat myself: lose the shirt and the jeans. If you do that right now, lickety split and with no more fuss, then at the very least you get to keep your undies on. Otherwise?" The man gave his knuckles one more loud crack.

"Well, they're liable to get ‘torn' in the scuffle, and you'll have to ride out the rest of this little kerfuffle in your birthday suit." He spread his hands. "Your choice, kid. Bein' a hostage is rough, I'm sure, but being a naked hostage? Heh. That seems a little rougher, doesn't it?”

Again Riley wrinkled his nose, making an annoyed grunt into his gag.
Well, this certainly wasn't the kind of thing that happened to kidnapped kids on TV, was it? All the same, he reasoned, the man's logic was impeccable: underwear on was way better than underwear off…

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed through his nose; he slipped his t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it atop his shoes and socks beside him. He unbuttoned his jeans and, glaring ruefully down at the waistband as he held it in his hands, slowly pulled them down his hips and ankles, kicking out of them and then tossing them in the pile with the rest of his clothes. Riley now stood before the man clad only in a pair of dark red Jockeys. At first the boy thought to do something pathetically defensive, like cup his hands in front of him, but the boy figured that any move like that was futile. Worse, it would make him look weak.

Of course he knew he was 'weak' at the moment, standing in his undies before his kidnapper, mouth stuffed to the brim with a nice, tight gag, but Riley figured he didn't want to look any weaker, if he could avoid it.

"Heh. See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" The man chuckled. "And hey: hope you thanked your mom."

Riley arched his brow, giving the man a quizzical look. The man, in turn, pointed to the boy's red underwear.

"Looks like she knows how to pick out quality undies, doesn't she?"

The man laughed as once again Riley's hidden cheeks flushed red.

The boy mumbled a naughty phrase through his gag.

Just then another man appeared in the doorway. This one wore a flight attendant's uniform, though he appeared to be in the middle of buttoning up the airline-issued vest as he walked. This guy was also inked up with a small decorative snake on his forearm.

"Having any trouble with the brat-" The man paused in his tracks as he looked at Riley, eyeing the boy up and down. "Uh, why'd you have him strip?"

Mister Bry shrugged.

"Eh, I figure he'll fit in better with the others if he's 'dressed' for the occasion."

"Or undressed," Mister Snake said, rolling his eyes and sighing.

Riley's brow arched in curiosity at the mention of 'others'; did these goons grab anyone else? Maybe it was vanity (and a very strange case of vanity, at that) but for whatever reason Riley assumed he'd been targeted by these guys from the get-go. One minute he's lugging his duffle bag through the aisles, early-boarding the plane (one of the few perks of being an unaccompanied minor), and the next he's trying to find his seat and pulling back a red curtain shielding what looked like the cabin crew section of the plane.

Things kinda happened fast at that point.

He practically bumped into one of the men as he drew back the curtain, looking first at his face, then the gun in his waistband. There was some quick cursing and then a mess of hands grabbing at the boy. Riley was wrapped up from his waist to his shoulders, with a strong gloved hand clamping down tightly over his mouth and nose, totally silencing his reflective yelp.

“Damn it,” a voice hissed. “They’re already boarding? Fuck! At least this one’s all alone; he’s got an unaccompanied minor tag around his neck. Take the little twit back into storage and get him shut up; I’ll find something to tie his ass up with!”

It all happened so fast, and in the spur of the moment it’s a wonder that Riley could think of anything at all. And yeah: at that moment what he thought was that these creeps were after him, specifically. Silly thought, of course, that a group of armed thugs would be on an airplane waiting to pounce on a random scrawny, short-for-his-age 6th grade boy and kidnap him. Riley wasn’t like any of the typical boy hostages you’d see on TV; his parents weren’t rich and he wasn’t all that important.

So it was dumb to think they wanted to get their hands on him.
And it was also pretty dumb for Riley to somehow feel disappointed about that, wasn’t it? Of course it was.

And yet…

“Seriously, we only made the pilots and flight attendants strip ‘cause we had to: we don’t need the kid’s clothes, you know,” he told Mister Bry.

"Ah, but then he’ll stand out too much, being all ‘overdressed’. You know how hard it is being a preteen," the man looked down at Riley with a cruel smirk. "We wouldn't want the poor boy 'standing out' from everyone else, would we?"

"Yeah, I’m sure all our other captives will badmouth him for that,” Mister Snake rolled his eyes. “Or they would if they weren’t all gagged. Let me guess: the kid gave you an attitude and you wanted to bring him down a peg or two?"

"Heh.” Mister Bry shrugged. “I just think he really wants to show off his cool undies to everyone!”

Riley crossed his arms and looked away from the man, again muttering a muffled naughty word through his undie-gag.

“Kid’s got a mouth on him, does he?” Mister Snake smirked and gripped Riley’s bandage-covered jaw, forcibly twisting the boy’s head from side to side, inspecting his gag. Riley thought enough not to resist, allowing his head to turn all about.

“Nice work shutting him up,” he said. “I’d ask why you made him use a pair of briefs as his gag-was instead of his socks, but I guess it’s less likely he’ll swallow and choke on a nice big pair of undies compared to his dainty little socks.”

Mister Snake then twisted Riley’s face forward, pointing to the boy with a stern finger.

“Hear that, kid? We don’t want you dead. Hell, we don’t even want to hurt you, as long as you’re on your best manners. Get it?”

Riley looked off to one side; he made an unpleasant sound through his gag. Mister Snake was more amused than angered by this.

“I already told the kid he ain’t no badass,” Mister Bry smiled.

“No, he’s not.” Mister Snake held up a whole mess of gray nylon straps. Riley recognized them as suitcase tie downs. “He’s ‘luggage’.” He tossed the straps to Mister Bry, whose smirk widened.

“And all luggage must be properly stowed and ‘secured’…” he menacingly tugged at at the heavy straps, teasingly flexing them before Riley.

“Get him wrapped up while I scope out the staff corridor; we can get his little ass stashed with everyone else once I’m sure no other passengers come wandering back here”, Mister Snake said.

Mister Bry shrugged.

“Kid’s got a few more briefs in his duffel, if we need more gags…”

“It’s crowded enough in the holding room as it is; we don’t need more hostages.” Mister Snake then considered the high-quality athletic bandages covering Riley’s mouth. He absently toyed with one of the metal fasteners on Riley’s cheek, holding his gag in. “But just in case: did the kid have any more of those bandages on him?”
Mister Bry shook his head.

“Just the one set.”

“Eh, figures.” Mister Snake looked at Riley. “You a runner kid? Or soccer?”

This caught Riley off guard. He didn’t figure his kidnappers would care about his extracurriculars.

“Mummhr,” the boy softly grunted.

Mister Snake nodded.

“Gotta keep those muscles tight, don’t you? Well, if you behave we might let you stretch your legs a bit, later. But for now…” Snake motioned to Bry and then quickly moved out into the corridor.

Mister Bry pointed down to the supply closet carpet.

“Okay, kid: on the ground. Face down. And cross your wrists at the small of your back.”

Riley lay flat on his bare stomach, taking a moment to adjust the waistband of his underwear, pointlessly ensuring his briefs were tightly pulled over his body for ‘maximum’ coverage. Not that a skimpy pair of briefs covered anything on his body ‘maximally’. He crossed his wrists behind his back and ruefully rested his bandaged chin on the floor, huffing through his nose.

Mister Bry untangled the luggage straps, laying them out beside Riley’s prone body as he spoke.

“We didn’t plan on grabbing any passengers, you know. We only needed to capture the pilots and cabin crew. We didn’t think to bring any more restraints than that. Or gags, for that matter. But then you were nice enough to bring your gag onboard with you, weren’t you?”

Riley rolled his eyes as the man set to work binding the boy’s nearly naked body. He wrapped Riley’s wrists together, complete with a length of strap running between the bonds to separate the boy’s hands and ensure extra snugness in his restraint. He did the same with the boy’s ankles. Before continuing he made Riley look up at him.

“I’m leaving your knees untied,” he slapped the bare skin of one of Riley’s legs. “That’ll let you stretch yourself a bit, keep from getting too stiff. Bit if you misbehave I’ll wrap you up like a little Egyptian mummy.” He chuckled. “A little ‘tutengaggedman’, or should I say ‘boy’. Get it?”

Riley tiredly groaned into his gag, looking off to one side.

“Hehe. You do get it. That would also mean you can forget about any bathroom breaks, or anything like that. We’ll still keep you hydrated, but you’ll end up being… ‘uncomfortable’, after too long. At least I would be, lying around in my own pee…”

Mister Bry wrapped up Riley’s bare chest in straps, both outside and beneath his armpits, then he wrapped a length of straps from the boy’s back down to his bound wrists, tightening it and forcing Riley’s hands away from his butt and into the small of his back. He tied yet another length of strap to the boy’s wrists and ran it down under his rear and up his crotch, securing it to yet another strap wrapped around Riley’s stomach, at his bellybutton. When the man tightened this strap it made Riley’s eyes bulge and the boy reflexively yelped into his gag as an unwanted pressure hit him in a rather intimate area.

“Sorry,” Mister Bry said as he finished knitting the boy’s bonds. “But this’ll help keep you from fidgeting too much, unless you like getting your little grapes crushed…”

Riley shifted his hips from side to side, trying as best he could to move his crotch strap off himself, but when Mister Bry noticed he took offense and rolled the boy’s body to one side; he gave Riley a gentle strategic swat, making the boy wince and once again bleat through his undie-gag.

“What did I say about misbehaving?” The man said. “And yes, ‘misbehaving’ includes trying to protect your puny li’l prairie oysters.”

Riley didn’t know exactly what a ‘prairie oyster’ was, but given the context he could at least grasp the metaphor.

He resigned himself to the situation and lay docilely to one side as the man again centered the boy’s crotch strap. When he was done he rolled Riley back onto his belly and secured one last long strap from the bonds on his upper back all the way down to Riley’s bound ankles. He then wrapped this long line with a snug strap around the boy’s lower waist, knotted off right over his butt. He then looped two straps at his lower back and lower thighs, connecting that pair in a neat handle.

“And voila!” Mister Bry chuckled as he surveyed his handiwork. “Our boy-baggage is ready for storage!”

Riley grunted as Mister Bry hefted him by his ‘handle’ and lifted all 75 pounds of the bound boy off the scratchy airplane carpet and into the air.

Riley stared down at the carpet beneath him. The weight of his situation (haha) was finally creeping into the boy’s mind, beyond his defensive anger and his humiliation. He felt every inch of his utter helplessness as he squirmed about in his bonds, the straps holding his limbs tight, the underwear in his mouth and bandages around his head silencing his voice, and the cool breeze of the airplane ac bristling against his naked skin, bringing goose flesh to every inch of his body that was uncovered (and that was almost all of his body).
What would happen to him? Were these guys serious when they said they wouldn’t hurt him? Would they leave him on the plane when they were done with whatever they were doing?

He could at least figure that they didn’t plan on anything really dramatic like kidnapping everyone on the plane; they already didn’t have enough things to use to tie people up, and Mister Snake had said they were already out of gags.

Although Riley figured that if they were kidnapping everyone, they technically wouldn’t need gags for everyone; that kind of thing’s only really needed to keep other people from knowing you’ve been kidnapped, after all.

Or maybe they just wouldn’t want to listen to people complaining, or crying, or whatever.

The boy wagged his head: no. These creeps were doing something really secretive and under the radar, and whatever it was, they needed to impersonate the pilot and cabin crew.

Well, whatever it was, Riley was probably going to find out. It was time to make some new ‘friends’ in the main hostage-holding compartment.

Mister Bry hefted Riley up and down a couple times, buoyed with a strong bicep.

“You’re a heck of a little weight,” he joked. “They should stock more bound and gagged little boys at the gyms!”

The boy huffed through his nose.

“‘Miffle foy’,” he derisively mumbled

“Yeah, yeah,” the man gave the boy a teasing slap to his undie-clad ass. “Just behave yourself and I’ll call you whatever you want, kid. Now then: let’s get your keester in with the others; it’s almost time for wheels up!”

The man sauntered out into the cabin crew corridor, swaying Riley back and forth as they moved. The boy kept his head down, morosely watching the carpet pass by beneath him, hoping that each step the man took didn’t jar the boy’s crotch strap against his more tender parts.

At one point they passed the curtain leading to the main cabin. Riley’s head picked up as he heard all the commotion of a boarding airplane: the mummers of conversation, luggage hefted into bins, children acting up as they settled into their seats.

The boy stared at the curtain longingly, watching shadows pass just beyond the thin fabric. They all might as well be on the moon. Even if the boy could manage to be heard with those bunched-up, saliva-soaked undies in his mouth (a big ‘if’, with the idling engine noise also conspiring to keep the child unheard), Riley would only be putting other people in danger by even trying to cry out. He kept silent and again hung his head.

“Very sensible of you,” Mister Bry noted. “At least you’re acting like a ‘big boy’, eh?”

Riley didn’t bother responding to the man’s little jab; instead he chose to pass the time in silence as he was carried off away from the other passengers to join the flight crew in helpless captivity, a semi-naked prisoner in inescapable bondage on this secretly hijacked flight, taking off for an uncertain fate…
Last edited by Gagman Inc 3 days ago, edited 1 time in total.
BOUND-BONUS
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Post by BOUND-BONUS »

This story is very particular, will there be a sequel? And I wonder where the parents are?
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Post by momsonbondagelover »

Interesting... i will like if Riley's mother gets tied with him
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Post by WhereAmI »

Great beginning and cliff hanger.

Riley off on a secret kidnap adventure all tied up and gagged like a good 12 old. I sure hope he obeys his new owners, we certainly dont want to see or hear him get punished for disobedience, or do we?
Cant wait for this to be continued to see if Riley is a good captive and where they are taking him to.
To tie you up is human, to tie you up and tickle you is divine. ME :mrgreen:
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