Stories of Tie Up Games

Basset seemed to have been somewhat uninvolved in the proceedings until the next visitor arrived. The Prefects had already agreed that someone would have to stay to supervise Ross in his labours and, being Head Prefect, he himself had generously agreed to do so. As he put it, “Someone has to do it”. Bassett is all heart.

There was a short delay before the next two visitors called at almost the same time. Marginally, the first was Ross, who had taken the opportunity to get breakfast before surrendering himself, attired as he had been instructed. The second was a rather sweaty Ollie who had brought the news that the fatigue detail was ready to receive the Prefects and their “guests”.

Earlier in the year Ollie looked like a typical “farmer-boy” type: sturdy, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Now he looked knackered from his recent exertions and slightly sunburnt from his tendency to shun the use of sunblock – still like a farmer-boy, then. Yes, both you and I know that the mobile telephone would have been a rather more efficient messaging system but then what would defaulters have to do to keep them out of trouble? Ollie was quickly dismissed to re-join the advance party of the Men from the Zoo, and Thompson and Robinson prepared their party to join them. Meanwhile, Bassett appraised his victim. Ross couldn’t really stand with his arms folded all the while he had to present his prep but he did stand as smartly as he could with his books held in front of him rather like a butler presenting a tray.

Ross was a tall, slim, rather athletic example of a Second-Year pupil. Like some of the other recent criminals, he meant no harm and was a hard-working, and hard-playing member of the school community. He was also intelligent. Intelligent enough to do as the prefects told him without disputing its fairness. He was also one of the pupils whom the Prefects would encounter if they found out who was practicing for the “mountaineering” event next year.

By that hour of the day and well into Summer, being bare-footed and bare-chested wouldn’t be too bad; even the humiliation of being seen to act as a slave to the somewhat over-privileged prefects would be balanced out by being seen to bear his burden with fortitude if anyone should see him.

Ross presented his prep. It was more than acceptable but Basett did manage to look unimpressed. Ross was glad it wasn’t a day for French prep. He adopted the expected stance until Bassett told him to, “Use that chain on your ankles.” He indicated a fairly light chain and two padlocks that were laid-out on the table. Ross had seen that facility before. He sat on the floor and wound one end of the chain twice round his right ankle and padlocked it in place. Yes, he was usually an excellent student but he’d had his moments outside lesson times. Once he had locked the other end of the chain round his left ankle, he could not separate his legs very far apart but experience had taught him that he would still be able, with some difficulty, to negotiate the stairs between the Prefect’s Study and the ground floor. He stood himself up and folded his arms.

Bassett could see that the chain was not too loose but he did make a mental note to himself to check to see that it was not too tight after not too long. Bassett’s inspection showed that Ross had even made sure that his fairly short and rather baggy rugby shorts were immaculate. It even looked as though Ross might have ironed them. He had!

Having reminded Bassett about the nature of both his offence and his sentence, Ross was sent along the corridor to the cleaners’ cupboard. He collected a bucket of cold water, not the nicest part of his ordeal, some cleaning fluid, and a sponge. He knew he would not be allowed a long-handled sponge so that he would not be able to avoid intimate contact with the cars that he would be cleaning. At least it would not be too hot or, even worse, too cold outside. OK, so life wasn’t too bad: his wrists were not fettered and he noticed that there were only four cars that would need his attention. Unfortunately, one of those was Robinson’s old banger; Ross thought that it was only the mud that held the old rust-bucket together. He went straight down to the car park. At least he had not been told to move the vehicles across the tarmac to where Bassett would be able to see him while he worked. Nevertheless, he knew he had to make a good job of things. He also knew that he would end up wet, as would those rugby shorts that would end up clinging to him unpleasantly as they dried.

It took him about two-and a-half hours to complete his task. He even thought to mop down the stairs where he had spilt water each time he stumbled down them. He also had the sense to empty the bucket over the cars before returning for more water.

Ross gave the vehicles (and that rust-bucket of Robinson’s) a careful looking-over before reporting to Bassett. He really did not want to waste any more of his precious weekend time. He clanked upstairs for what he hoped would be the final time and reported to the Prefects’ Study. Bassett did manage not to smirk too much as Ross tried to stand with his arms folded behind him and the mop with its head in the bucket and its handle propped up against his chest. He simply couldn’t resist keeping him standing there while he made the usual insincere apologies and empty promises that his misdemeanour was unlikely to be repeated. Ross managed not to dislodge the cleaning implement.

Once he considered that he had enjoyed himself enough, Bassett ordered Ross to return the equipment to the cleaners’ cupboard and then to accompany him to inspect his work. Bassett was impressed and he nearly let Ross know it. He smirked as he pointed out that the defaulter had better hope that a certain old rattletrap had better not spontaneously fall apart in the next couple of days. Ross allowed himself a nervous giggle before reining himself in. Bassett let it go.

It was time to either release his victim or to announce any necessary extension to his ordeal. Basett was, for a Prefect, quite fair in the matter and presented Ross with a choice. He could choose to spend the rest of the weekend in full school uniform, as was usual for defaulters, or he could spend the rest of his Saturday until his bedtime in just those sodden shorts and, presumably, his jockstrap. No choice, Ross knew his shorts would soon dry out and he would not then be drawing attention to himself on Sunday so denying himself the use of any leisure facilities.

“Good Man,” said Bassett approvingly as he threw a key to Ross, “Bring that back before you go, won’t you?”

That might seem a bit weird. Why, “Good man”? Well, Bassett was never derelict in his duty but Ross’s choice would mean that he wouldn’t have to ensure that he was meeting the uniform conditions, thus wasting his own Sunday.


All the while Bassett was entertaining his unwilling guest and once Ollie had been dismissed, Thompson and Robinson could turn their attention to the remaining three defaulters who had been trying not to move any more than was necessary in order to be able to keep breathing easily. Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were supposed to be going but Thompson noticed that they had not been fitted with a lead for their guidance. He even suggested that, if either he or Robinson (or even Luke) could lead them, then they could also be blindfolded. Even for Thompson that was a bit extreme but, with their noses pressed determinedly against the wall, they couldn’t see his smile or the wink in Robinson’s direction.

“Wha’ d’y’ think, lads?” No one answered Robinson’s question but they expected the worst. “Tell you wha’: if I ask my friend nicely not to blindfold you, wha’ you goin’ to do for me in return?”

“Come on, Eric, you know they’re not too bright. give them time to think.” Other than the feeling of impotent outrage, the Third-Years were not even suspicious of Thompson suddenly becoming the nice(r) guy. Even being the pains in the arse that they certainly were, they didn’t really understand the games the Prefects chose to play to increase the torment of their subjects.

There was some discussion of the order of procession and it was decided that Nigel should lead Gary and that they should precede Luke. The suggestion that the Third-Years could thus form a soft cushion if Luke should lose his footing on the stairs was no encouragement to any of them. The party set off to where the rest of the occupants of Dorm 3z had pitched camp. Gary and Nigel managed to descend the stairs more-or-less side by side due to the width of the old staircase and Luke kept as close behind them as he could. He had taken the recent warning seriously. In truth climbing down stairs laden both fore and aft and without his arms for balance did make his progress very precarious. However, all five boys survived that part of the venture unscathed.

Robinson checked that Nigel and Gary knew where they were going (Luke could just follow on) and the party set off out of the school premises for the stream that fed the “Perfectly Round Pond”. It was a journey of about six kilometres, a pleasant enough walk for the prefects but a potential obstacle course for the younger lads.


Readers might have noticed that the Prefects had not enforced the “Lance Private” ranks for the defaulters and had not themselves adopted Corps uniform. Well, they simply couldn’t be bothered: Gary had already suffered whatever standard ordeals they could come up with and Nigel’s somnolence was considered to be probably irredeemable; he was only being made to suffer as a matter of routine. Luke? He was just an unfortunate victim of collateral damage.

Ollie, Jeremy and Dan loaded up the old trek-cart, covered the cargo with a couple of extensive tarps, which they tied down securely, and made their resentful way to the designated site. At least none of them had been tied up, a fate that they knew awaited Nigel and Gary. The trail was mostly easy going but towards the end was somewhat hilly even though the hills were gentle. They forded the stream that fed the Perfectly Round Pond where, at that time of the year, it was not too deep for their boots (Shame about Ollie.) but it did get deeper rather quickly as it approached the pond. They carried on to some higher ground that hosted some mature beech and oak trees and even a few stray Scots pines.

They were lucky to complete the journey in about two hours. They thought that would leave them plenty of time to prepare the site and, perhaps, even to take some time to relax. They had, as they expected, worked up quite a sweat, even Ollie in his retro PT kit.

Once everything had been set up, Ollie had to run the entire six-kilometre return journey to report their success to Basset. He also made a good guess that he would have to make the return run as well. That would have been no trouble for Nigel but Ollie was not Nigel and he had already had to put quite a lot of effort into helping with the trek-cart. It was a good job that Dan suggested that he leave well before they had finished pitching camp or he could have his head bitten of by the Head Prefect if he was considered to be late - and if the others could be considered lazy. Life can be hard for a young pupil in a “good” school.

Once Ollie had left, Dan and Jeremy reckoned they had about an hour before the rest of their Dorm members arrived but still thought they had better get lunch prepared and ready to go. Two purposes served there: it might please the Prefects who, according to Robinson’s instructions, would certainly demand feeding and, because, having missed breakfast, their own stomachs thought their throats had been cut. Neither defaulter thought to indulge in lunch before the expected arrivals. That would not have been safe if they had been caught taking a flier but it would not have been fair on Ollie who had probably been worse put-upon than they had.

Somewhat after Ollie arrived, the porters didn’t have long to cool their heels until they noticed the convoy arriving in the near distance when self-preservation dictated that the Prefect’s chairs should be vacated. Lunch preparations proceeded at a pace. Ollie took the opportunity of a rest against a tree. Dan made sure that he got water to drink, even Thompson would not have denied him that.





Robinson and Thompson brought up the rear as the captive defaulters arrived at the camp-site. Thompson ordered the coffled Third-Years to their knees while Robinson started to relieve Luke of his packs. The transition between standing and kneeling was, to say the least, clumsy for the closely coffled lads but they were just about ready for the rest after the trials of the bound, and necessarily rather slow, trek. As the pack was unstrapped from in front of him, Luke only hoped that he would be relieved of his own pack as well. “OK, Gray, your hands aren’t that close, undo that pack and leave it with the pile over there.” With the front pack removed, it wasn’t too hard a task but Luke wondered what else lay in store for him while he was working as “Orderly” for Thompson.

“Gray, just get those ropes behind you and kneel down by the other two oiks while we eat our lunch.” Luke’s attempts to adjust his bindings were not quite as entertaining for him as he struggled on the ground as they seemed to be for the Prefects.

The Prefects occupied two of the three pre-positioned folding chairs and enjoyed a leisurely hot lunch served solicitously by Dan and Jeremy. Even Ollie made sure he was not seen taking things easy. The rest of the party had to enjoy the rather appetising smells wafting across the site. Having not eaten since supper, they were not enjoying that as Robinson and Thompson took their time over a main course of chilli and rice, and a pudding that involved a huge portion of cake and some very yellow custard. Even after that, they demanded tea and biscuits. Well, at least Luke and his fellow defaulters managed to take a rest.

In between mouthfuls, Robinson gave some thought to Ollie. “Cook, get changed. Fatigues and boots then show yourself for inspection.” Ollie was ready for that, his socks and those plimsoles were sodden.

“Thank you, Robinson, may I towel myself off first?”

“Don’t be so bloody stupid; of course you can.”

“Unless you want to stay barefoot.” Ollie chose not to accept Thompson’s kind offer and happily stripped off one pair of plimsoles and one pair of formerly white socks. He even asked permission to take some stakes from the pile he had noticed on which to hang his plimsoles – his socks could hang over a handy tree branch. He collected his denims from his pack along with a safe pair of white uniform briefs and a clean one of those white singlets. The other sweaty one could hang over a branch along with his shorts in case they might be required later. He didn’t even bother to hide himself too efficiently, other than turning his back on the company, as he swapped his rather fragrant jockstrap for the clean briefs. Once he had donned his denims, the clean vest, two pairs of socks and his army boots, he presented himself for inspection.

Thompson could find nothing wrong and ventured, “Stout fellow.” That was as near high praise as anyone had ever heard from Thompson. Even he appreciated how much Ollie had been through compared to the others. “Make yourself useful, Cook. Untie their necks.” It wasn’t really necessary but Thompson indicated Nigel and Gary.

Anyone who has done any rock-climbing will know that the re-tied figure-of-eight is very firm under tension but is (relatively) easy to untie when it is not. Ollie was a fisherman; he knew the knot but his usual way of dealing with it would not have been acceptable in the circumstances even if Robinson’s Swiss Army knife was available. Ollie approached his subjects. Nigel had the more slender neck so Ollie grabbed the ropes between his neck and the knot.

“Hey!!”

“Shut up, Quinn, unless you want to stay tied to the other slug while you eat.”

Nigel saw the sense of Thompson’s threat and apologised to his mate. Ollie pushed the parallel strands towards the knot in his hand. The knot gave slightly. That enabled Ollie to push the free end towards the knot and subsequently to be able to unthread the knot leaving the two bound boys separated and a loose figure-of-eight knot about 60cetimetres from the end of the rope that was still hanging around Gary’s neck. It took very little time, now that he had more room to work, for Ollie to remove the tether from Gary’s neck.

Once the Prefects were replete Robinson graciously announced that it was time for the, “Worms to dine.” Gary and Nigel had pictures of their having to eat out of bowls on the floor like dogs. It HAD been known.

“Come here, Bartholemew.” Gary started climbing to his feet.

“Who told you that you could stand?” Thompson had reverted to type. “Crawl!” Gary wanted to eat; he would have crawled slug-like on his belly if he had to. Nigel waited for his invitation. Robinson enjoyed Gary’s locomotive difficulties before it came. Nigel did not bother trying to stand.

Having known how they had bound their victims made releasing them a fairly easy job for Robinson and Thompson but, before they could eat, the defaulters had to hank the ropes in a tidy fashion and lay them on the tarp that had been pegged out for the purpose. The sight of the other restraining materials that had already been laid out was not an encouraging sight.

Gary and especially Nigel, who’d had more stress placed upon his arms, worked their arms gratefully. After the initial shock, that felt good. The Prefects were in no hurry.

“Alright, Cook, get them something to eat.” Ollie thought that Robinson had forgotten something. So did Luke. However, Ollie almost rushed to do as he was bidden. “Oh, and get something yourself. And you two.” Dan and Jeremy, who had been dutifully standing in the expected posture, (It was safer that way!) rapidly headed for the large enamelled cast-iron pan.

Luke waited. Then Thompson included him in the invitation. That was good news but Luke wondered how he was going to manage. Did he dare ask? Just a few seconds of looking round desperately prompted Robinson to ask Luke what he wanted while warning him to mind his manners.

Even in his short time in the school, Luke had learnt that it was impossible to be too humble in front of the prefects, not if you wanted to live, that was. While the Third-Years tucked in, he didn’t even rise from his knees and worked his way over to where Thompson was sitting. He must have made a really good job of crawling up his arse because Thompson didn’t even make him work his ropes to be in front of him. “Stand up.” Luke did so. “Turn around.” That enabled Thompson to untie him enough for him to complete the job himself.

“Thank you, Thompson, very kind of you, Thompson. *Blah, blah, blah, . . .”

“Can it, Worm.” Luke did so, faster than you’d think possible considering that he was on a roll. “Just get your lunch and then report or Orderly duty.” Perhaps Luke was soon to learn what that would involve now that they were no longer in school.

End of chapter 2, Ordeal By Ice - Another Hardened Criminal.

Poor little Chistopher Bassett having to lay with no pants, his ankles tied together with his toes tied to his ankles, his hands tied behing his back and his thumbs tied together holding his uhbent legs off the floor for over ten minutes. I almost feel sorry for him, but being the head Prefects little brother he should know to keep his shirt tucked in. Give him another half hour.

Pinky appears to cause a lot of trouble and is keeping the Prefects busy, which im sure they enjoy tormenting him.

Basset Minor should have known better, knowing who his big brother was and Pinky was merely trying not to be late to lessons. Life is hard if one is enrolled in a good school.

Poor little Chistopher polishing shoes all afternoon and weekend, they better shine like a lighthouse.

Yup, but it won't make them any more comfortable.