Chapter 16 - Checkov’s Gun
From Chapter 2 - “Harry had always been a bit slippery - I often had trouble keeping him tied up - maybe he’d escape on his own and help me bring down the kidnappers with insider information.”
Harry the Escape Artist’s POV
When the door had opened at Seth's apartment I didn't have a chance to react before Rolland pinned me up against the wall.
He slapped my ass. I screamed. He covered my mouth. He slammed the door shut. He threw me to the ground. Pinned me down. Restrained me.
He duct taped my wrists behind my back. He taped my ankles and thighs. He ran tape around my chest to pin my arms close to my back. He shoved a sock in my mouth and duct taped it shut.
I squirmed on the floor for a few minutes while he looked out of the window of Seth’s cluttered apartment.
“Let's see if your friend Luke comes up to help you” he said, pulling one of the blinds down.
We waited a minute, then Rolland walked over to me.
“No point staring, he knows where to find us,” Rolland sat down beside me, he gently wrapped his hand around my neck. I started to freak out.
“I saw everyone's list of limits,” Rolland said, “I studied it closely. I’m disappointed boy, you sure had a lot of limits.”
It was true. While I am open to trying out different sex and torture acts sometimes when tied up, I’m only game in situations where I know I can have an out. For a game like this, I needed to make sure I only consented to things I knew I could take.
“Good news boy,” Rolland continued, “tickling wasn’t listed. So we can still have some fun while we wait for Luke.”
Rolland made the most of my consent to be tickled. He was unrelenting as he attacked my sides, feet and groin. He brought me to the point of coughing four times. Over the course of an hour, the big man made me regret my choice to allow tickling.
After having his fun, Rolland looked out of the window again.
“Oh how sad,” he said, “your buddy Luke left. He isn't coming to save you.”
Rolland picked me up and threw me into a thick wooden chest. He closed the lid, sealing me in darkness, and locked the chest closed.
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I felt him move me, load me into his car, and drive away.
In the chest, I could tell the tape was getting weak. I'd been sweating and struggling and was sure at this point I could break out of the duct tape. Problem was, no amount of squirming would free me from the padlocked box.
Instead I spent the car ride absolutely pissed at Luke… that fucking traitor… I imagined all the ways I might get my revenge.
Rolland brought me back to Ricky’s place. I was surprised Ricky was the kidnapper, and more surprised to see him working with Rolland. I was not surprised to see Seth already tied up, and seemingly not even trying to get free.
I would be different. I was gonna get out.
I played smart. I couldn't overpower Rolland, so I let him and Ricky restrain me without struggle. My escape would come when they weren't looking.
They locked me in a cage under the bed. I wasn't restrained any other way, but the padlock on the cage was an obstacle I couldn't pass myself.
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But I could see the key, and I tried my best to secretly signal Seth - whose locked ankle cuffs chain could totally reach my cage key - to hand me the key.
Perhaps I was too subtle, too quiet, or too vague… I had been careful to not wake Ricky and stir his wrath. Or maybe Seth just didn't care about getting us free. Either way my useless partner in bondage didn't free me when he had the chance.
In the morning Ricky slid some pancakes into my cage and let me eat while he got his kidnapper Uhaul set up. He led me to the bathroom, while Rolland stood outside the door to make sure I didn't try to bolt. When I was done they put me in a straightjacket, locked me in a muzzle, ankle cuff and thigh cuffs and threw me in a cage. Ricky added chains, and locked each cuff to the bars of the cage, just to make sure I was extra secure.
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Throughout the dark uhaul ride I struggled. I tried to make as much room in the straitjacket sleeves as possible, I tried to stretch my legs to see how much movement I had. I scanned the trunk during the moments the back was raised - when Ricky brought new victims into the cages he'd prepared for them - looking for anything I could use to pick the lock of the cage.
And of course, I struggled and squirmed when Ricky tickled me, though not by choice.
By the time the ride was over, I'd loosened the straitjacket to the point I could have brought it over my head, since the thing didn't have those groin straps. I could have freed my arms, but once again chose not to give away my escape plotting. Since even if I got loose from the jacket, the cage and cuffs would still hold me firm.
I hoped they'd keep me in the straitjacket inside, then I could find a chance to slip out.
Sadly they had other plans.
They strapped me to a chair. Leather straps pinned my wrists, arms, chest, ankles, thighs, and head. A panel gag with an attached soft ball kept me quiet and forced my head upright against the chair. Another strip of leather blinded me.
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As Ricky strapped me in, I attempted the tried and true method of inhaling and trying to make my body bigger, so a future escape attempt would be easier. Ricky must have caught on though, because he pinched my nose closed. He kept it closed long enough for my body to start to feel like it was suffocating. I squirmed and tried to pull my head away.
He released my nose, I caught my breath, then he did it again. He repeated this breathplay cycle another 4 times. As I caught my breath from that last time, he tightened the straps pinning me during each of my exhales. I was too focused on filling my needly lungs to puff up strategically.
Then he left me to go deal with the other prisoners.
I sat for a second, feeling my restraints. I saw how much I could move each limb. My legs could move a millimeter; I could flex them but that was about it. My head and body could shake a little side to side, but not enough to get slack. Though as they shook I heard something - a rustling of leather, a tiny metallic clank. I felt wind on my hands. Interesting.
My wrists weren't actually strapped too tight. Perhaps Ricky had been worried about cutting off circulation, perhaps he didn't know about my famously small hands, either way, given enough time wiggling my hands and working up a sweat, I could probably slip out of the wrist cuffs.
Problem was, the straps around my forearms prevented me from pulling my wrists backwards at all. I'd need to somehow get rid of those straps. Problem was I couldn't reach my forearm straps with my cuffed wrists.
I spent over an hour testing, squirming, and devising an escape plan. Once I'd figured it out, I waited patiently for a good hour until I was sure my captors were distracted.
I overheard an entire meeting between Ricky and Sir Raymond, followed by Ricky leaving for the club. I heard Rolland leave to get Selim and Luke return with Dasol. Then I heard muffled cries of pain.
Ricky was gone, Rolland was busy torturing someone. It was time.
I wiggled my whole body as much as I could. Not sporadically, but with enough rhythm that the loose ends of the straps from my forearms, that were positioned right at chest level, started to swing. I felt them swing back and forth, then felt the wind from them on my hands, then finally the ends of each touched my hands. I twisted my wrist and caught the ends of the straps.
They should've locked them close.
I flipped my wrist around so they were facing away from each other. The straps around my arms came unfastened at the connection point, and I felt my arms slack a little. I wriggled my arms until they were out to the side of the chair like chicken wings, then got to work on my wrists.
With sweat, small hands, and a lot of practice I slipped my left wrist free.
That was all I needed. I used my free hand to unstrap myself from the rest of the chair.
There were a few times when a strap’s connector would be on the other side of the back of the bondage chair, and while it took some flexibility, I was eventually able to reach my arms around and pull the strap loose.
I stood up, free and dressed in only my underwear. I scanned the house. I walked in the opposite direction of the noise from Rolland and his victim.
I found Chet first. The jock was completely unbound, locked under the bed, asleep. I found the keys to the under bed cage, unlocked it, and crawled inside. I covered Chet’s mouth and then woke him up.
He immediately tried to shout - startled to see me - but I kept his mouth shut and told him I was breaking him out before he could overpower me. I told him to keep quiet, then I released his mouth. The two of us crawled out of the cage.
Chet showed us to Nahum. The cowboy was still in a straightjacket on the bed. From the looks of the faint dried spot on his briefs, he'd managed to get himself off a few hours back and was now just enjoying the forced relaxation of the jacket.
“We're gonna take down Rolland,” Chet whispered as I freed Nahum from the Jacket.
Naham grabbed a coil of rope and threw it over his shoulder. I grabbed a pair of handcuffs. While I had no chance against Rolland - I was short, not strong at all, had no experience capturing unwilling victims, and only had weight in the way of belly fat, Nahum and Chet were both big guys who might be able to get the job done. Chet was tall, toned, and very experienced bringing men to the ground. Nahum wasn't quite as strong, but he was heavier and had a lot of practice roping up squirming victims. Still, neither of them on their own could take down Rolland, so it would need to be a coordinated attack.
We found the room where Rolland was beating Jurgen. We waited right outside, behind an open door. When Rolland passed us on his way to get more torture supplies, we jumped him. Chet tackled him to the ground. The big man tried to throw the jock off, but Nahum pinned him face down and sat on top of him. Chet grabbed Rolland's wrists and forced them close behind his back.
I locked the cuffs. We captured our warden. We were in charge now.
