Stories of Tie Up Games

Chapter One - “I’m Gonna Make You a Star”
Truman left the bar, with a slight stumble to show he’d been drinking.

A car pulled up, ‘Uber’ sign in its window. Truman didn't even check the license plate, let alone remember if the make and model of the car was the one he'd ordered on the app.

He wasn't a fearful man. He wasn't a cautious man.

The driver was hot and imposing, tall and muscular with a large well-kept beard. The driver had hairy arms and armpits accentuated by the his tight tank-top.

“So,” Truman asked, “how's your night going?”

The driver didn't respond. Truman leaned his head against the seatbelt, staring out the window, looking right past the cameras pointed at him.

It was a short ride, maybe three minutes, before the driver turned the car down the long gravel driveway. This was the moment that the buzzed and all-too-trusting Truman realized something was wrong.

“Wait,” Truman said, perking up and speaking faster, “this isn't… we’re not… this isn't the way to my house? Where are you….”

Before he could finish, the driver slammed the breaks on the car, startling Truman and making him jerk forward.

The driver got out of the car, slammed the door, and started walking to his trunk. Truman tried to open his door, but it wouldn't open. Through the right side mirror, Truman saw the driver grab rope and duct tape from the trunk.

“Oh shit!”

Truman sloppily crawled into the driver seat. He opened the driver’s door, then took off running into the woods.

The sounds of crunching leaves and clanking belt buckle told Truman the driver was right behind him. He ran as fast as he could, even started to put distance between him and his pursuer.

But then, at just the right time, he tripped. Truman fell face down into a patch of soft dirt.

The driver immediately caught up with him and sat on his back. The weight of the driver pinned him down, Truman couldn't wiggle free. His attacker’s strong arms grabbed Truman's flailing wrists and forced them through a pre-tied loop of rope. Before Truman had a chance to pull his hands free, the driver tightened the loop, and cinched it down the middle.

His hope of escape plummeted with the loss of his hands. Truman started shouting for help. The driver grabbed a bandana from his pocket, balled it up, and forced it into Truman’s mouth. He wrapped duct tape around the poor lad’s head, sealing the gag.

The driver tied another double column around Truman's forearms, further restricting his movement, and forcing his shoulders into a mildly uncomfortable strain. The driver turned his attention to his captive’s legs, tying his ankles first, and then right above his knees for good measure.


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Then, in the dark woods, on the dirty, cold forest floor, the driver yanked down Truman’s running shorts and underwear. Truman screamed into his gag, tried his best to trash and fight his bonds. The driver unzipped his jeans, he whipped out his hard cock, and took out two small tear-apart packs of lube from his pocket to lube it up.

The driver laid on top of Truman, then slid his cock into the kidnapped man’s ass. He wrapped his arm around his prey’s neck, and started fucking him.

Even though he'd been fucked four times already tonight, the drivers thick cock and aggression made Truman feel stretched and full. The initial pain from being roughhoused and forcibly entered quickly turned to pleasure. His muffled cries for help turned into moans.

As quickly as he began, the driver pulled out, flipped Truman around, and slapped him across his face.

“A sneak peak at your new life boy.”

He grabbed Truman and threw him over his shoulder, carrying him back to his parked car. He threw his captive into the back of his trunk.

“To answer your question from earlier,” the driver said, “my night is going great.”

He slammed the trunk closed.

A night vision camera in the trunk caught the video of a struggling, sore, bound and gagged Truman. With his pants still pulled down, his hard cock was in full display. A single bead of precum slid down his desperate cockhead. Despite his night of repeated bottoming and rough sex, Truman hadn't cum even once today. He fought the urge to grind against the floor of the trunk and get himself off, scared of the repercussions.

After driving another few minutes down the wooded driveway, Truman felt the car stop. The driver opened the trunk, and carried Truman into his new home.

The driver didn't enter the front door of the cottage, rather, he went around back to a locked staircase that led into a concrete basement. In the basement was a jail cell, and in that cell was an array of chains and cuffs, dangling from the walls and ceiling, all in position to secure Truman in place.

The driver set Truman down so Truman was standing in the middle of the jail cell. Immediately Truman began struggling, trying to wiggle free. The driver grabbed his neck with one hand, and punched his nose with the other.

“Don't fucking test me boy.”

The driver cut off Truman's breath just long enough for him to get genuinely afraid. When he let go, Truman breathed in through his nose, and stood completely still.

The driver began binding Truman with the chains. First he locked him in a collar. Then he untied his hands and forced his wrists into cuffs. Last he untied his legs and forced his ankles into metals cuffs.

When Truman was truly trapped - chained and stretched out - the driver cut away his prisoner’s pants, underwear, and shirt. He slammed the jail door closed on his naked, helpless captive, and walked to the exit of the basement.

“Welcome to your new life, boy.”

The driver turned out the lights.

*****

“And scene! Excellent work everyone, THAT is the take right there!”

The cast and crew applauded - save for Truman whose hands were still chained apart.



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“I know it was a long day of shooting,” the director said, “and that a long shot like that is practically unheard of, but fellas, let me tell you, the results speak for themselves!”

Truman was relieved the shoot was over. Fun as it was, being manhandled, tied up, and fucked five times had left him quite exhausted. Since the director didn't want anyone cumming in this first scene, Truman had been pent up with sexual frustration for hours. Now finally he could go home, jack off, and get some rest.

The director wished everyone a good night, told them when to be on set, and thanked the crew. He talked to the actor playing the driver for a few minutes. Truman stood in the cage, chained and gagged, waiting to be released.

Once everyone else had left, the director opened the jail cell and approached his star.

“You did great today, Truman,” the director spit in his hand and wrapped it around Truman’s cock.

Not what he'd been expecting, but a pleasant surprise after hours on edge. The director gently slid his hand up and down the length of Truman’s shaft.

It didn't take long for the bound actor to get close. Right as his eyes rolled back, right as he started to moan, the director pulled his hand away.

Truman gave a pitiful whimper.

“Sorry Truman,” he said, “I need you fresh for tomorrow.”

He unwrapped the tape from around Truman's mouth. Truman spit out the wadded up handkerchief.

Then, a surprise, a terrifying surprise. The director closed the cell door.

Truman asked a flurry of questions, which quickly turned into a flurry of demands to be set free. The director ignored them all, and set up a camera on a tripod in the center of the room, pointed directly at Truman.

“I'm going to make you a star.” was all the director said, as the bound actor struggled and screamed fruitlessly in the dungeon that had suddenly become very real.

Interesting start, keep it up!

Fantastic beginning to this series! I am excited to see a protagonist rise to fame…and how much say he has in it. Can’t wait for the next chapter

Guardianbound wrote: 6 months ago Interesting start, keep it up!

Thank you! I'm glad you like it

Bradstick wrote: 6 months ago Fantastic beginning to this series! I am excited to see a protagonist rise to fame…and how much say he has in it. Can’t wait for the next chapter

I'm excited to show it!! Posting next chapter now

Chapter 2: Hungry Cockwhore
It wasn't long before Truman’s arms hurt. Being forced into a standing X had been easy for a few minutes, when he'd been waiting for the driver to say his line and end the scene. When the take had ended and he'd been freed right after. But this, this prolonged strain on his muscles, was torture.

Truman screamed, he yelled for help, he shouted at the camera.

“Let me go!”
‘You can't keep me here!”
“I didn't agree to this!”
“Please, stop, I can't take this any more!”

Pained, desperate cries from a truly terrified and helpless man. Exactly what Director Quinn had wanted… no, needed for this project.

Two hours of strain, two hours of struggle, two hours of protest. Then it was time to let his actor get some rest.

Director Quinn re-entered the basement, Truman yelled at him, thrashed in his chains. Quinn though for a second of letting him hang a little while longer, but the way his prisoner went limp so quick after a quick burst of energy proved the caged actor was nearly spent.

Director Quinn opened the cell door, and shoved a panel gag into Truman's face, muffling his shouts and begs. Quinn locked the gag’s strap, then began unlocking the chains from the walls and ceilings of the cell. Immediately, the exhausted Truman went limp, falling into the director’s arms, as he guided him to to floor of the cell.

With his wrists, ankles, and neck still cuffed - but now not attached to anything, Truman stretched out on the floor. He caught his breath through long nasal inhales. Director Quinn slammed the jail cell closed. Truman could move, relax, and rest, but he was not free.

“Get some rest” Director Quinn said, turning the camera back on, “you have another big shoot tomorrow morning.”

He threw a tiny set of keys a few feet from the cell, turned off the lights, and left the basement.

The camera, shooting in night vision and live streaming everything, broadcasted Truman’s pathetic and frantic struggle to get the key. He fumbled in the dark, stretching his arms through the bars of the cage where he thought he'd seen director Quinn toss the keys. The rattling chains made it even harder for him to listen for the sound of the singular key on the concrete floor.

Eager viewers, excited to see this bold new project from a particularly well known content creator in kink circles, tuned in to watch the poor young man reach for the tiny key. They saw the captive nearly knock the keys out of reach, then search in a completely different spot, then finally grab them after half an hour of struggle.

Truman tried to unlock his cuffs, but the key didn't work. He tried to unlock his collar, but the key didn't work. The only thing he could unlock was the gag. He spit it out, then turned to the camera.

“Please, someone, anyone watching,” he begged, “I didn't agree to this! I'm not acting! This is real! They're keeping me here against my will! Please call the cops! Please!...”

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Most of the viewers just assumed it was part of the show, a fun fantasy they got to be a part of. The few that accurately guessed it was real, who deduced Director Quinn might very well be so bold as to keep a real prisoner for their amusement, were only more excited to see where this newest project would go.

Eventually Truman fell asleep. But not for long enough. He woke up, dazed and exhausted, when the lights turned on. The Driver from yesterday and one very strong PA strode up to his cell, followed by cameramen recording his morning.

“Please, I-” before Truman could protest, the driver opened the cell door and kicked Truman in the stomach.

“Shut the fuck up boy.”

Truman wheezed, then clambered to his feet as the driver tugged the chain connected to his collar. The strong PA grabbed the two chains tethered to Truman’s wrist cuffs and pulled them tight behind his back, holding Truman’s arms in place. The driver - who's name Truman had never asked during yesterday’s shoot - led the prisoner out of the basement and into a living room of the house.

Set up on the floor, surrounded by cameras and lights, was a kneeling stockade. Truman shook his head in protest, nearly on the verge of tears, but the two strong men holding his chains forced him into position behind the stockade.

Two PA’s came over and released Truman’s ankles only to immediately relock them in the stocks. Then they released his wrists and neck, holding them firm until they could force him to bend over and be locked in the stocks.


Image from fabriciosub Tumblr.

Truman was forced to kneel, his wrists and neck in stocks, cold, naked, and on display for the world to see.

“I hope you're hungry boy” the driver said, pulling down his jeans and grabbing Truman’s hair before he could respond.

The driver forced his dick into Truman’s mouth. He grabbed both sides of Truman’s face, and held him still while he fucked the bound man’s throat.

Truman started to gag. The driver pulled out, and slapped his prisoner across the face with his cock.

“Looks like you need more practice boy.”

The driver pulled up his jeans and signaled to the PA who'd helped bring Truman into position. The PA unzipped his fly and whipped his dick out. He held it in front of Truman’s mouth.

Truman stared up at him, breathing heavily.

“What are you waiting for bitch?” The PA said, “do your fucking job.”

With no other choice, Truman opened wide and sucked the PA off. As soon as he tasted the hot load of cum shoot down his throat, one of the cameramen pulled his pants down and got into position.

One by one, every PA, cameraman, sound guy, and intern came up and used Truman’s mouth. Some were forceful, fucking the prisoner’s throat, while others simply stood and let Truman do the work of blowing them. The dicks ranged in size, shape, taste, and hariness. It took nearly two hours before Truman was finished.

Tears welled up in his eyes, he was so sore, so tired. He wanted out, wanted so desperately to be released.

And yet, even Truman couldn't deny how hot the scene had been. His own cock has been rock hard the whole time.

Once the last tech guy had cum inside Truman, the driver sat down beside the captive. He squirted lube in his hand and gently wrapped his hand around Truman’s dick.

“The other guys are about to leave, Quinn and I are gonna have some breakfast. If you keep that whore mouth of yours shut we’ll let you eat some too.”

Truman nodded. He was starving. His begging, threatening, and bargaining hadn't worked yet anyway, his best hope was to just obey.

The driver started to jack Truman off. It didn't take the bound man long to get close. Truman tried to thrust his hips as much as his position allowed. He let himself forget the fact he was being held against his will, and just enjoyed the pleasure of getting a handjob after being so totally dominated and used.

Truman shot across the floor, then relaxed in his bonds.

The driver called a few PAs and Cameramen over. They released Truman, then forced him into a pair of tight briefs, followed by a sturdy leather straitjacket. At this point Truman didn't dare fight back. He was too tired and hungry, and there were too many men for him to take. He'd have to wait for a better time if he wanted to make an escape.

Once he was in the straitjacket, Director Quinn walked over and blindfolded Truman. He congratulated everyone on a great morning shoot, and told them when to come back for their evening scene. Truman heard the other men leave the house, followed by the quiet sizzle of eggs on the stove in the kitchen.



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Truman blindly crawled on his knees toward the sounds of the kitchen, not daring to stand in case he fell. He must have made it to the kitchen, because he felt someone smack his ass as they passed behind him.

Truman waited expectantly on the floor. The driver and director Quinn chatted with each other as they made food.

“So that'll be pretty standard for the morning scenes,” Director Quinn told the driver, “a quick hour or two long scene for people who want to get off before work. The evening scenes will usually be longer and more involved.”

The driver grabbed Truman’s ass, causing him to flinch “hear that boy? That was one of your easier shoots.”

Truman fought the urge to whimper, not daring to make any noise and forfeit his breakfast.

Director Quinn and the driver - an actor Truman soon learned was named Sean - talked about the project as they ate. Every few minutes, one would drop a pinch of scrambled eggs on the floor and tap their foot where it fell. Truman would crawl over, bend forward and search the floor with his face, eating the dropped eggs with his mouth once he found them. The camera, of course, recorded all of this.

“So Quinn, my friend,” Sean said, giving Truman a gentle kick under the table, “Walk me through it, what does our boy’s day to day life look like now that he's ‘on set’?”

Great follow up to the first chapter! I loved the stockade! The humiliation of having to eat off the floor was also incredibly hot! Can’t wait for the next chapter, great job @CaptiveDan

Bradstick wrote: 5 months ago Great follow up to the first chapter! I loved the stockade! The humiliation of having to eat off the floor was also incredibly hot! Can’t wait for the next chapter, great job @CaptiveDan

Thanks! The crawling on the floor for food was fun to write, I didn't think that kind of humiliation was a kink I had until I was getting hard while writing it!

Chapter 3 - Life on Set
From then on, Truman’s life had a pretty regular progression. Everything was always recorded and broadcast, so fans of the stream would know when to tune in to see certain things.

7am - Morning Scene
Truman was woken up, as he had been that first morning, and subjected to some quick, simple, hour or two long scene. Usually he was face fucked, whipped, tickled, edged, tortured, or used in some way. These morning scenes offered viewers a chance to hop on the stream and get themselves off quickly.

9am - Breakfast
After these scenes Truman would be fed, usually in some humiliating way. He might be restrained and blindfolded, left to crawl on the floor looking for scraps of Quinn and Sean’s meal. He might be tied to a table and force fed some disgusting protein concoction. He might be shoved in a cage to eat out of a dog bowl. Somehow he got his meal, at the price of humiliating himself in front of the world.

10am - Workout
Truman would be forced to workout. Some days that meant being tied to a weight bench and given progressively larger weights. Sometimes he was leashed to a treadmill or elliptical. Sometimes he’d be forced into a singlet, commanded to do various workout routines, and flogged if he delayed or refused. On days he was really lucky, Truman would be tied in an elaborate chest harness, brought outside in his briefs, and then tethered to the hitch of a four-wheeler. The four-wheeler would drive around the trails of the expansive wooded property, and Truman would walk, jog, or run behind it.

11:30am - Bathroom
Truman would be permitted to shower and use the bathroom. Even here, the cameras were always on, because as Quinn would say, “there's something here for everyone”.

Noon - Waiting
For most of the afternoon, Truman would be restrained and waiting. The cameras would record him tied to the couch, or to the bed, or in a chair, waiting for hours in captivity. Sometimes Quinn or Sean would be kind, turning on a TV or putting on an album so Truman would have some form of entertainment. Occasionally they may come over and tease the bound man, or give him cryptic warnings about what the main scene that day was going to be, or quickly get themselves off in his mouth or on his face.


Image from boundhung Tumblr

4pm - Dinner and Bathroom
Truman would be fed his main meal of the day. Usually this one he was allowed to eat in a more respectable manner than breakfast, though always restrained in some capacity. After dinner, he would use the bathroom again, and sometimes be ordered to clean out if the evening shoot demanded it.

5:30pm - Caged
As the rest of the production crew arrived at the house for the evening shoot, Truman would be shoved into a cage. Director Quinn called this his “dressing room”. He waited in anticipation as one camera broadcast him in his cage, and another camera broadcast the crew preparing whatever main scene was awaiting him this evening.



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In the cage Truman's cock betrayed him. For everything that had happened, for all his protests and longing to be free, whenever he was in the cage before a shoot, his mind swelled not with hopes of escape, but rather the ecstasy of imprisonment. Because deep down he did love bondage, he did love being forced to submit, unable to protect himself from his tormentors, he did love being used and abused by powerful men.

His mind would race. What would they do to him? What would he have to endure? What sick games, tortures, or fetishes would he be forced into in front of every loyal fan who tuned in that night?

When setup was finished, someone would come unlock the cage.

Show time.

After the Shoot
The length of the shoot varied, but the end result was the same. The crew would leave, and Truman would be stored for the night, usually either in the basement cell, or if he was lucky, in a cage under the bed that Sean and Director Quinn shared.

All the excitement and horniness for his imprisonment that he'd had in the cage was gone by this point each night. The scene was over, now he just wanted out.

But he wasn't let out. He was kept. Stored away until morning, when his day of bondage and torment - publicly broadcast to the world - would begin again.

I really enjoyed this chapter! I loved getting to see the routine Truman had been forced into. I found it really interesting that he doesn’t try to escape. Very interesting indeed! Can’t wait for the next chapter!

The spooky way life lines up some times where I swear to god I was literally watching The Truman Show and logged on here to check notifications and saw this story!

Wow - I am really enjoying this story!