Stories of Tie Up Games

Let's hope that an in-tact sales offer would be more valuable than an incomplete specimen.

I think the bookies won’t be taking bets on that one!

You never see a bookie on a bike.

Finally some brief reprieve. Maybe time to figure out who fucked him over last stay?

I wonder if he will be allowed any freedom to do such a thing?

They take such good care of the wounded purchases.

They seem to be the only type of goods that command a better price after they have been reconditioned. Someone seems to have found a USP there.

Well, @blackbound, @Bradstick, @Caldo203, @harveygasson, @Jb99, @Red86, @Snozzberry, and @Wedgieboy69 , on with the repairs.

When the attendants came to prepare Rhys for his shower, he immediately came to attention again but found his situation in that respect totally ignored. One-use metal rings were fastened around Rhys’s wrists and ankles. These were fairly flexible, light devices which had a hollow end with constrictions at frequent intervals and a slightly narrower serrated end that fed into it. The ring was slipped over a limb and the ratchet device so formed held it in place once it had been tightened by hand. If the wearer was lucky, it would then be crimped with pincers and a hammer to stop it being “accidentally” tightened any further. Rhys was in luck!

The straps holding his wrists were removed along with the ones around his waist and Neck and Rhys was doubled up so that his wrist rings could be padlocked together. He felt something being padlocked between his ankles that pushed against his straps, forcing his feet slightly further apart. Once the straps had been released, Rhys realised that a bar had been fitted that stopped him closing his legs. When he was pulled off the surface, and forced to bend over it, his worst fears surfaced again. I’ll skip the details but a clinical internal massage was administered to facilitate an internal cleansing. There had been quite a back-up. Enough said.

Rhys was wiped clean and taken over to the corner where he felt himself standing on a grid. He was anticipating the forthcoming onslaught of freezing water with very little pleasure while his ankles were padlocked to the grid and a chain fastened around his neck and tightened enough to prevent any evasive manoeuvres but, as long as he kept his chin up, not tight enough to strangle him. The expected deluge started and every muscle in Rhys’s still athletic frame tensed and his body became one extended shiver. The water stopped and the soaping down and scrubbing started. The attendants set about the front of Rhys’s torso and the non, lacerated aspects of his limbs with gusto, a gusto not much diminished even on his more delicate parts. They were a bit more careful around the sutures and the cut on his leg but Rhys was still left feeling that he’d just been skinned. A further bone-chilling downpour rinsed the helpless HC who found difficulty breathing once more due to the cold and the gag digging into the sides of his mouth.

The water stopped and Rhys was towelled down vigorously causing the customary embarrassment which was, as usual, ignored before he was left for longer than he was expecting without anyone paying him any attention at all. Then he heard someone approaching, obviously preparing something. Once he felt the pressure against his right pectoral muscle, he steadied himself just in time before he felt the thump and the accompanying sharp pain as his fifth tally mark was tattooed into his flesh.

When the chain was unlocked from around Rhys’s neck, he managed to keep his feet without assistance but he was certainly glad that he wasn’t being stretched, scoured and stabbed any longer. It was almost a relief to have the chain replaced by another, larger and rather more substantial ring than those around his limbs, which was crimped none too tightly round his neck. The ring was complete with a dog-tag with Phys324 inscribed upon it, a number which Rhys then had written on various aspects of his body every few days for the duration of his treatment. He knew by now that that was the nearest thing to a name that he would be allowed.

Once more Rhys was left in his aching, lonely darkness, unable to move his feet and unwilling to sit in case he was either punished for it or unable to rise again if he needed to. Eventually the physio returned and gave Rhys another extensive prodding.

At last, he saw fit to speak to his charge. “I am going to do your essential biometrics. You will have only your wrists chained as long as you co-operate. If you chose not to co-operate, you will simply be returned to the sales centre as you are now. I doubt that you would attract a sale. Do you understand? Good. Will you co-operate? Good, I’ll free your ankles now.”

The next procedures were somewhat mysterious as Rhys was given minimal instructions as the physio measured weight, height, oxygen absorption (difficult for a subject who is blindfolded, has his wrists chained behind him, and is trying to run on a treadmill) and various expansions and strength measures. Before arm, strength and bicep expansion could be measured, the physio reminded Rhys of the consequences of any lack of co-operation. Rhys was a model subject until his wrists were locked in place once more. This time, instead of being left in his lonely darkness, Rhys felt the customary metal noose slipped over his head and did his best to follow where his silent handler was leading him. He noticed that he was being lead rather more mercifully than he had been initially; the slave had taken the “no more damage” instruction to heart.





Rhys heard a door being unlocked and felt himself, presumably, being led through it. He could hear noises that he could not identify but some of them seemed to be muffled voices and, if they were, then some of the others might have been people moving around. If Rhys was right about that, some of them at least must have been chained. As he became used to his aural environment, Rhys concluded that not all those around him were comfortable with their lots as there was certainly a lot of moaning and even the occasional artificially suppressed scream. Christ, what sort of place was this? Had he been abandoned after all? Had all his suffering so far been for nothing? His raised levels of anxiety and anger at least helped to dispel any potential resignation to his fate and Rhys, who’d always had a stubborn streak, re-discovered his determination to survive.

Oh fuck, why did he carry that knife? That alone was enough to gain him a “3” tariff even if he hadn’t been found near the scene of the robbery. Why did he even hang around with the other two? He knew they were no good.

The noose was removed from Rhys’s neck and he was pushed forwards until he collided with a wall. The extension to the tongue of his gag pushed the already too tight bit even more painfully against the corners of his mouth and he quickly turned his head sideways. Although he had received no instructions, Rhys tried to stand still (the best course of action in his opinion) as he felt his ankles being forced together and what seemed to be a padlock. It was only then that he realised the floor on which he was standing was no longer hard but he couldn’t identify it via the soles of his feet. He felt the relatively flexible flooring shift slightly as someone was obviously moving on it before he heard a door being locked. He maintained his pose for some time before realising that he had been left alone in a cell.

As he stood there, he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The noises were now obviously being made by restrained people and someone in particular did not seem to be enjoying a particularly pain-free existence. Rhys was becoming used to the sound of tasers and cattle prods; he thought the sounds might have even been added deliberately to put the fear of god into potential recipients of their ministrations.

Eventually, when it became obvious that he had been caged, Rhys pulled away from the back wall and tried exploring his cage. It didn’t take long. He’d already felt the breeze block wall at the back of the cage and soon felt two others that formed the sides. Shit! They were close! Not much further away from the back wall, Rhys could feel iron bars that seemed to form the front of his tiny cage. He slid down the bars as despair started to resurface. At least he could stretch his legs. As he pulled himself together, he tried to stretch out and found that he could lie at full stretch without touching the back wall or the cage door but, as he wriggled towards the back of his cage, he realised that it was a close run thing. In effect, he was in a cage measuring about one metre by two and at least tall enough to stand in.

As he lay there, he heard various instructions being issued and the subsequent efforts of his fellow prisoners to comply with them as well as the repeated muffled cries of a person who was obviously being treated even more severely than everyone else. The over-riding noise, however, was a repetitive mechanical sound that Rhys could not identify. Rhys’s mind started wandering and, whenever he managed to pull himself back to full consciousness, his aural analysis of his environment continued. He had no idea how long he had been left but, as well as becoming desperate to use a toilet, he gradually constructed a fairly good idea of what lay ahead for him.

At least Rhys' cage is big enough for him to move around a bit and stand up, repetitive mechanical noises while being poked and prodded by a Physio cannot be a good thing. A screaming neighbor is going to keep Rhys awake at night, hopefully it's the hooligans that was hunting him. Only 2 more marks to go Rhys and hopefully your done and maybe free, if so I'll buy you as a House slave and train you to be good and OBEY the laws (this procedure will be very painful as it involves the daily use of a spiked chastity cage).

Slightly less accommodations since his last visit to the service bay I see. Though what other actives could be going on around him, I wonder.

Better start saving your pennies, @Snozzberry, if the Service Centre does a good job, he might make a very expensive lot.

Let's hope you never have to find out about those things for yourself, @Red86.

That doesn't sound very comfortable or rehabilitative. Ah well!

Possibly more comfortable than his previous accommodation, perhaps?

@blackbound , @Bradstick , @Caldo203 , @harveygasson , @Jb99 , @Red86 , @Snozzberry , and @Wedgieboy69.


Ooops! a bit late with this chapter. Here it is:

Eventually it was Rhys’s turn for attention and he heard his cage being unlocked and felt the padlock connecting his ankles being removed. Fingers hooked themselves under his neck ring and hauled him to his feet. The owner of whosever fingers they were grunted and tugged Rhys forwards before turning him round and forcing him to sit. Rhys recognised the feel of a metal lavatory pan under him and muffled a desperate plea. Receiving no reply, Rhys realised that he couldn’t hold on for much longer and just released realising that the chance of his being afforded any privacy was unlikely in the extreme. Once more, he was almost glad of the blindfold. What was obviously toilet paper was shoved into Rhys’s hands; he would get used to wiping himself with his wrists padlocked behind him over the next few weeks.

Once more, without receiving any instruction, Rhys was hauled to his feet and led to some sort of bench on which he was made to sit and then rotated, how far, Rhys had no idea. Then he felt his heels backed up to what felt like a metal bar and his ankles clamped to the bar almost like a pair of stocks but with his shins vertical. While Rhys wondered about the sort of torment for which he was being prepared, his wrists were separated and his right one was padlocked to some sort of table. Always keen to avoid any more punishment than necessary, Rhys presented his left wrist ready for securing but was surprised to find his action ignored. Instead, his gag, that had been so tightly applied, was unlocked. Rhys squealed!

The thick, padded rubber blindfold was roughly pulled off his head and Rhys blinked in the light of the brightly illuminated room. The attendant slave left Rhys for a couple of minutes to become accustomed to the light and to start taking in his surroundings. He had been sat on a revolving metal stool facing a small metal table with two indentations in it. He couldn’t move his right hand very far but his left hand was completely free. The table was about a metre away from the wall he was facing and, chained and clamped as he was, Rhys had some difficulty looking behind him to examine his surroundings even once he had plucked up the confidence to do so.

In the minute or so that he had, he noticed that the wall behind him was lined with about eight cages like the one from which he obviously had just emerged, the W.C. he had just used and what appeared to be a shower. Behind him three blindfolded prisoners were standing with their feet clamped asymmetrically and industriously cranking handles, which seemed to be taking much effort and required considerable flexion of their back muscles. Anyone who didn’t seem to be “putting his back into it” was persuaded to do so by a method that explained some of the crackling noises that Rhys had heard. A brief electric shock from the collar round his neck seemed to galvanise any slacker whose screams were somewhat moderated by his gag, which, although it was like the one Rhys had only recently had removed, seemed to have been fastened rather more loosely than his had been.

Looking over his right shoulder, Rhys saw three large, vertical wheels, somewhat resembling mill wheels, each over four metres in diameter. It was only then that Rhys realised how high the ceiling was in this awful place. In one of the wheels, a person was trudging like a donkey on a treadmill. He had a collar round his neck in addition to his neck ring and Rhys didn’t need to wonder what that was for. He was soon to have his certainty confirmed.

The last thing, other than the bridled and cock-caged attendants, that Rhys saw before his attention was re-directed was a sort of metal frame. It was about two metres square and a desperate looking prisoner was stretched out towards the corners of it. Rhys just about had time to see the electronic whip being applied to the poor man’s privates before a voice made Rhys face front again.

“You will normally be allowed only half an hour for your waking routine and in future there will be nobody to explain things to you.” The speaker wore a boiler suit rather like the Doctor’s. He was obviously no slave. He introduced himself. “I am the Foreman of this work station and you will be here for the next four weeks except when you are receiving physiotherapy or undergoing assessment. I will be here while you are inducted to this section of the Service Centre. Put his collar on.”

Rhys had managed to maintain his stoical silence during this explanation but he nearly lost it as the shock collar was strapped on and he felt the contacts digging into his neck. He didn’t manage to retain his composure when it was tested. “I’ll overlook that this time. I am sure it won’t happen again.” Rhys’s reply consisted of faint whimpering and very heavy breathing. You will now be fed and I shall turn my attention to that useless piece of detritus there,” announced the Foreman indicating the extensively bruised prisoner stretched out in the metal frame. “He soiled his cage. He’s got his five tally marks so I thought we’d give him one more chance before getting him branded as a reject. His repairs had nearly been completed so he’s quite valuable again or I probably wouldn’t have bothered. Now then . . .”

The Foreman went away and a slave appeared with a metal bowl full of food which he lowered into one of the indentations in the table and twisted it, locking it into place. The other cavity was fitted with a metal beaker with a straw protruding from it. Having noticed the arrival of the food, Rhys tried to turn around again to see what was happening behind him. He felt a sharp slap round his left temple and the slave stabbed his finger towards the food. Following his shocked response, Rhys addressed himself to his meal.

At least he was being given recognisable food again even if it was no longer hot. He was obviously supposed to eat with his free hand so he got on with it and, as he shovelled it in with his fingers, he also drained the far from cold water from the beaker.

His meal completed, the slave released Rhys’s right wrist from the table and padlocked his wrists behind him once more. There was no point in Rhys’s resisting and he made no attempt to do so. The thickly padded rubber blindfold was forced onto his head once more and Rhys felt the gag being presented to his lips. The slave inserted it into Rhys’s un-resisting mouth but he was surprised to find that it was fastened nowhere near as tightly as it had been previously. The HC that had soiled his cage was obviously undergoing considerable “behaviour modification” and Rhys decided that he certainly didn’t want to experience that himself.

Recognizable food!! What a treat. I sure hope Rhys is good and doesn't soil his cage, after 5 Tally Marks to branded and discarded would certainly be a shame and waste of a trained Huntee.

Oh, I am sure his carers will do their best for him. Let's face it: some of them have to!

Well, looks like Ryhs has regained some modesty and is allowed to feed himself and while far from warm, had much better meal then his previous. But a shock collar, yikes!

Always liked the idea of shock collars to keep a bratty sub inline but IRL, it's just to risky to me, even though I've seen others do it.

I get the impression that Rhys will cope. It doesn't seem to be the worst thing that has ever been done to him.

Xtc wrote: 3 months ago I get the impression that Rhys will cope. It doesn't seem to be the worst thing that has ever been done to him.

Yet…….?

Oh, but surely you trust me (looks hurt) - - - don't you?

Temporary freedom... but to be followed by work, if I understand correctly? Well, that's going to build some stamina and endurance for the next run, at least.

Ah, sussed, I think. Still sounds like a bit of a holiday camp, though.

Even Rhys deserves a 4 week holiday on the institutions Treadmill Of Recovery if it makes him more valuable to the State as a Huntee.