Stories of Tie Up Games

Thought I'd repost this tale from the old site.
It is a one-shot and was written for a member whom I believe is not on here now.

He’d often fantasised about being kidnapped but only if it could be done safely by his friends. This wasn’t what he had in mind at all. He hurt, he was scared and he couldn’t even explain to his abductors that they’d got the wrong man. The van carried on along roads that didn’t seem to be too well made and his arms jerked painfully with every movement as his bodyweight bore down on them.

How the hell did this happen?


It was a Sunday evening when Ryan returned from the Mainland and he’d never enjoyed ferry journeys. He was just glad to get his feet on dry land again. It was a good job he’d kept some money because, when he rang his parents to come and pick him up, they told him that they couldn’t come as they were still at dinner with his dad’s boss and that it wouldn’t be a good idea to leave early. He walked wearily through the ferry port and headed for the taxis.

“Typical Sunday night on the Island,” thought Ryan seeing no cabs on the rank and he just found somewhere to lean while he waited. After about five minutes a white panel van pulled up on the rank. Ryan thought that it was a funny time to be making deliveries but gave it very little attention other than that. He was simply tired and wanted to get home. The shutter at the back of the van was raised from the inside and two black-clad men got out. By the time Ryan really noticed them, it was too late.

His world went dark as some sort of fabric bag was slipped quickly over his head and tied round his neck. Ryan felt someone grab him, pinning his arms to his body and clamping one hand over his open mouth. The other kidnapper lifted his feet from the ground and they dumped him in the back of the van, climbed in as well, and pulled down the back of the van. Ryan heard a knocking and the van drove off. It was a quiet Sunday and no one saw the abduction which can’t have taken more than fifteen seconds between the van’s stopping and it’s pulling away again.


So far, his abductors hadn’t said a word to Ryan but he did manage to get the general idea that he’d just been kidnapped. An obviously disguised voice (You know, like when Batman makes his voice go harsh.) started to explain things while Ryan was pinned to the floor of the van with both his arms hammer-locked painfully up between his shoulder blades. The instructions boiled down to: shut up, keep still, cooperate or be prepared for a good kicking. Ryan decided to comply.

Ryan felt tape being wound round the bag that shrouded his head, some over his eyes and even more being wound round so that it jammed his jaws open and, with the fabric as well, effectively robbed him of the power of comprehensible speech. Before long, Ryan had been stripped to the waist. That was more than a bit worrying. “Looks better in the ransom photos,” said one of his captors although Ryan couldn’t figure out how his parents were supposed to raise a ransom; they were hardly millionaires.

Panic had now set in and Ryan tried to ask what the hell was happening to him. As someone held his arms, another of his kidnappers felt around for Ryan’s nose, pinched it closed and said, “You’ll find it much easier to breathe if I let go. What do you think? Quiet?” Ryan nodded his head, as best he could, before he was pushed to the floor once more. His arms were pulled up into the small of his back and Ryan felt a thick, soft rope being wrapped about half a dozen times round his wrists before being tied off twice. The person sitting on his back then turned to face the other way. “Feet up,” he growled.

Ryan felt his trainers and socks being pulled off and was starting to believe that he was going to be stripped completely. He started wriggling and struggling again. It soon became obvious that there were at least three abductors in the van because, in addition to the guy sitting on his back, there was soon another on his legs and one holding his head between his knees and shoving his face into the floor. “Take it easy, we’re not perverts, we just don’t like being kicked.”

Ryan soon settled again when he realised that no attempt was being made to strip him of his favourite tight jeans. “Look, we don’t want to hurt you. Unless the ransom isn’t paid. Our boss wants you in good condition for the first photos. But it’s up to you.” After a few minutes of calm all but the man sitting on Ryan’s back had released him.

The van jogged on lurching from side to side every so often. Ryan was made to stand and felt his wrists being drawn upwards. He was soon standing, feet still very slightly apart, bent forwards with the rope fastened off to the roof of the van.

Once he had been secured in that painful posture, Ryan felt the tape that was forcing his mouth wide open being cut free. The bag was undone from his neck and rolled up to the tape that clamped the bag against his eyes. Ryan started begging at that point but that was alright by his kidnappers one of whom who simply slipped his socks into his mouth and held them in place using his knotted t-shirt. “That’s better, much quieter.” But Ryan was still trying to protest so someone wrapped the gag, and most of his lower face, with packing tape. The more Ryan’s upper lip, jaw and chin became encased, the quieter he became. Even though Ryan kept his dark hair somewhat short and there was a t-shirt tied round his head, he knew that removing the tape was still going to hurt.


“I suppose you want to know what we intend to do with you,” asked one of the abductors. Ryan nodded. Who was this pillock? Of course he wanted to know. “Well, your father, Sir John Waverley, should be prepared to pay good money to get you back in one piece. We’re going to take you somewhere cosy, where you can be safely hidden away. Then we’ll take some photos and make some phone calls. As long as Sir John doesn’t mind sharing his riches and doesn’t do anything silly, you could be free inside a week.”

That didn’t make sense, Ryan’s dad worked hard for a modest salary. He wasn’t Sir John - - - What’s-his-name. He couldn’t afford a ransom. There must have been a mistake. Ryan tried to point it out. He quickly found his jaw grabbed and his face forced upwards while someone “explained” that he would be better advised to be quiet.

Ryan settled as best he could and tried to brace himself with his legs to reduce the stress on his arms. The van carried on.


The journey seemed interminable. He didn’t know there were so many poor-quality roads on the Isle of Man. Eventually the van stopped and Ryan felt his legs being forced together. Someone tied his ankles. He felt the ends of the doubled rope wound around his legs, threaded through the bight and cinched at right angles to the previous turns. That not only pulled things even tighter than any self-tie he’d ever done but also removed all feelings of stability. Ryan was left oscillating uncertainly with his feet on the floor and his arms still being forced high behind him. It was adding insult to injury when more rope was tied below his knees and cinched in a similar fashion and even more round his thighs. Tied as he was and keeping his legs straight to relieve the pain in his arms merely transferred extra pain to his legs as the ropes dug more deeply into them.

As the rope pulling Ryan’s arms towards the roof of the van was released, Ryan collapsed, but one of his kidnappers supported him so that he didn’t damage himself by head butting the van floor. The rope was cinched between Ryan’s wrists and then used to tie them to his waist. Ryan thought that he was already slim enough without this bastard pulling the rope so tight round his midriff. Surely, they’d finished tying him now? But no. A few turns of rope were wrapped round his not very well-developed biceps clasping them tightly to his sides before they were tied off. No one bothered to cinch them between his arms and his torso.

“Pretty as a picture.” declared one of the kidnappers before another one dragged Ryan to the sill of the van. Ryan felt himself thrown over someone’s shoulder, not difficult for any reasonably strong person on account of Ryan’s slight build, and carried into some sort of building. He was taken into a cellar and sat on an uncomfortable chair before the bag was removed from his head.

Fuck! It was just like his fantasies come true. He was bare chested, barefoot, tightly bound and effectively gagged. His abductors even wore three-holed balaclavas and leather jackets and their fingerless leather gloves would allow them to tie efficiently. The only difference between his current predicament and his fantasy was that Ryan was terrified.

“Watch the birdie”, said the fit looking guy with the “Batman” voice. “If we get a couple of good photos, we might not have to beat you up. Mind you, if Sir John doesn’t play, we might still have to beat you up later. Let’s hope not, eh?”

Once again, Ryan tried to explain that his father was not Sir John anyone, but he merely succeeded in falling off the chair in his agitation. He was replaced on the chair and subjected to the humiliation of being photographed in his distress. There followed some discussion about whether photos of a naked hostage would be more persuasive and Ryan fell off the chair again. This time he was hauled to his feet and supported so that he didn’t fall. “Time to meet our boss,” said ‘Batman’ and the bag was slipped once more over Ryan’s head.

Ryan was shouldered by one of his kidnappers once more and he was carried upstairs and along a fair length of corridor. Eventually he was sat down again. He was sure he could hear noises.

“Right,” said ‘Batman’, “It’s time to meet the boss,” and someone lifted the hood from Ryan’s head. What he saw astounded him and the silence didn’t last long.

Amid laughter and cheering, Ryan saw his mum and dad, his mate Joe, who still had his leather jacket and gloves on, and most of his school friends.

“Christ, Mate, do you realise how difficult it was keeping this lot quiet?” asked Joe.

Then his dad spoke, “It’s gone midnight. Happy eighteenth birthday, Son.”

It was a good job that Ryan was still gagged.

I was hoping Batman and Commissioner Gordon had started to lead a life of crime and started off by kidnapping Robin to ransom to Bruce Wayne.

🖐🖐

Ah, but then, as an impoverished writer, I might have had to pay royalties to DC Comics.