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Gone Fishing Part Three


By Doug R


I awoke with a start.

Instead of my bed, I found myself lying on one half of a cushioned v-berth in the forward cabin of a boat. I instantly remembered that I had gone on an extended fishing trip with my friend Scott (age 13), along with his father and Uncle Jerry. It was the summer of 1978, when I was 13 years old, and this little fishing trip had turned out to be something of a bondage bonanza for me. I had been bound and gagged twice within the first day.

And now, as I began my second day of this fishing trip, I had been startled awake by something. I got up into a kneeling position on the v-berth, glanced out the windows, and saw that the cabin cruiser that I was aboard was moving, the cabin reverberated with the rumbling of her engines. I think the sound of the engines was what woke me up. It was a gray, cloudy day outside. My heart sank when I saw this, because I had figured that the bad weather meant the abrupt end of our little weekend excursion-I figured we were on our way back to the cabin-and that would also be the end of my bondage game fun.

Little did I realize just how wrong I was!

Feeling the need to use the bathroom, I kicked away the blanket and got to my feet. I was barefoot, and still clad in my bedclothes, which consisted of nothing more than my white under shorts and a blue t-shirt. I supposed I should have gotten dressed-I could have at least put on my jeans-but I didn't feel like it. I was only going to the bathroom, after all, and would remain below deck the whole time. So I saw little need to get fully dressed.

However, no sooner did I step outside of the bathroom-no sooner did I place a bare foot on the wooden deck-then I was grabbed from behind. It was Scott. He grabbed my right arm and twisted it up painfully behind my back. I glared at him over my shoulder and said, “What are you doing?”

”You're our kidnap victim,” Scott said with a smile. “And I want to make sure you don't try to run away on us when we dock.”

And so I was wrong; the non-stop bondage game would continue in force despite the bad weather. I could not help but feel very pleased.

Scott placed a fresh cloth gag in my mouth, making sure the thick, knotted section fit snugly between my lips. Then he tied the gag at the back of my head, making sure that it was taut. When my gag was secure, Scott grabbed the nape of my neck and shoved me over to the galley table, where he forced me to bend over with my upper body facedown on the tabletop. My hands were pulled behind my back and bound together at the wrists with rope. I was once more a helpless captive-and God help me, but I loved every minute of it!

Once my wrists were trussed up to his liking, Scott grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me up so that I stood next to him. Then he escorted me into the forward stateroom, where I was made to lay down on the same side of the V-berth where I had just woken up.

As I lay on my left side, with my head on the pillow, I felt Scott bind my ankles securely together.

When I was fully trussed up hand and foot, I was startled to hear Uncle Jerry's voice say, “Come on, we're almost there, and I'll need some help with the lines.”

“Ok,” Scott said, as he ran out the forward stateroom.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Uncle Jerry saw me, but by the time I looked, there was nobody there-Scott was already gone. I lay there, my heart pounding in my chest, as I waited in eager anticipation for what would happen next. My bonds were snug and secure. Like a real-life kidnap victim, all I could do was wait for what my captors had in store for me.

I was startled when I heard the boat's engine abruptly cut out. Then I felt the gentle bump as the boat met the dock, along with the casual conversation between Scott and his uncle as they tied the boat to the dock with the lines. When the boat was moored to the dock, I heard all sorts of activity above me on deck, as Scott, his father and Uncle all had a casual conversation above, leaving me bound and gagged below deck aboard their boat.

And I still loved every minute of it.

I realized that if I were truly a kidnap victim, I would take advantage of the fact that I had been left alone. Writhing against my bonds, I managed to sit up on the edge of the V-berth cushion with my toes touching the wooden deck. I carefully glanced around the forward stateroom, searching for something sharp that I could use to cut my bonds. Of course, I could not see anything that was within my immediate reach. And if I tried to go over to the cabinets off on the far end of the room, I would have to hop there on my bound feet, which was a prospect I didn't cherish. If I lost my balance, there would be no way for me to prevent myself from taking a bad tumble.

So I did the next best thing, I tried to see where I was. Even though I knew full well that the boat was docked at the lakeside home that Scott's family owned; I was acting out the part of a kidnapped thirteen-year-old boy who was abducted from his bed during the night and stashed on board this boat. So I swung my bound legs back up on the cushions, and-after much wiggling and more writhing-managed to get myself into a kneeling position on the V-berth cushion. In this position I was able to raise myself up and peer out the narrow windows of the forward stateroom.

I saw the lakeside house, which Scott's family normally rented out to summer vacationers, but they kept it clear for themselves this weekend. My crazed abductors were no doubt inside. I glanced around the whole area and didn't see anybody else for miles. There was no way for this abducted boy to somehow signal for help-darn it!

Eventually, Scott came out of the house and returned to the boat. I noticed that Scott was fully dressed in jeans, t-shirts and shoes. I was the only one of the group who was still barefoot and clad only in his bedclothes from last night. But then again, I was also presently the only one of the group who was bound hand and foot and gagged, as well. So I was in no position to change my scant attire.

I swung my bound legs out from underneath me and sat back down on the cushions as I heard Scott climb back aboard the boat. Scott climbed into the forward cabin through the hatchway in the ceiling.

Scott untied my ankles, and then he stuffed the cloth strip bonds into the back pocket of his jeans. When he pulled me off the cushion and onto my feet, I turned my back towards him, expecting Scott to untie my wrists next.

But, instead, Scott grabbed me by the back of my neck and made me step onto the center of the V-berth, where we both stood up through the opened hatchway. I stared wide-eyed at him as he climbed through the hatchway. Then he bent down and slipped his hands under my armpits, and helped me up through the hatchway until I sat on the forward deck. I watched Scott close the hatchway-we were expecting rain, after all-and then he helped me up to my feet. I stood as plain as day on the forward hull of the boat, barefoot, clad only in my under shorts and a t-shirt, with my wrists bound together behind my back and my mouth gagged with cloth. I sheepishly glanced around, but if anybody saw me, I didn't see him or her.

Scott grabbed my arm and helped me off of the boat and onto the dock. With his hand still firmly on my arm he escorted me towards the house. The smooth wood planks of the dock felt cool beneath my feet, thanks to the cloudy skies that hid the sun. Still, it was late summer, and very warm and humid. I hoped that if anybody had seen me, I would simply be just another casually dressed kid on the lake. Thankfully the hem of my t-shirt came down to my upper thigh, hiding most of my under shorts-with the exception of my groin area and lower buttocks, which flashed pure white. I reasoned that a faraway observer would assume I wore a swimsuit under my shirt. However, there was no hiding the fact that my hands were bound behind my back, nor could anyone explain away the gag that had been stuffed into my mouth and wrapped around my head.

For this I turned and glared at Scott as we walked up to the house. Scott merely stared ahead, that smug smile never leaving his face.

As we approached the house, I was startled to see another boy further up the road. Fully dressed in jeans, a shirt and sneakers (it appeared that everybody was fully dressed today-except me), he looked to be about ten or eleven years old, with light brown hair that was in what was known as the Prince Valiant style. He stared at us with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as he slowly backed up the road in shock.

There was no way that Scott could have missed this kid, yet he acted as if he never saw him as he led me into the cabin. I let out a sigh of relief through my nose. I was so grateful to be finally back indoors and away from prying eyes that I happily let Scott escort me through the living room, down the hallway, and into a small guest bedroom at the back of the cabin. I faintly heard Scott's father and uncle talking in the kitchen.

The guest bedroom was small, with wood panel walls and a single bed that was by the lone window. Scott gestured at the bed and said, “Lay down.”

I did what I was told. I knelt down on the edge of the bed, and then leaned forward until my torso hit the mattress. As soon as I lay facedown, I felt Scott grab my ankles. He tied them together once more with the same length of rope.

I lay there, trussed up and completely helpless. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Scott opening the window, in order to air out the room, which felt pretty muggy. Then he gave me one last once-over before he left the room. When I was alone, I tested my bonds. My bonds held me securely, without inflicting much pain. Scott had once again tied me expertly.

I guess this little bondage game really would continue for a bit longer after all.

Then I got the surprise of my life when I heard the doors of the pick up truck slam shut, and then I heard the truck take off. It looked as if I had been left alone again. Scott left me alone in the guest bedroom with the door wide open. There was no need for him to close it, anyway, because my bonds insured that I wasn't going anywhere. The house grew very quiet and still, confirming my suspicions that I had been left alone.

Despite my strict bonds, I was quite comfortable. The bed felt much better than the cushions of the V-berth aboard the boat, which I had slept on last night. And I figured I might as well lie there and relax. I heard the distant rumble of thunder, which heralded the oncoming rain, and settled in for an afternoon of playing a bound kidnap victim.

Something at the window caught my attention. I glanced over and saw a voyeur had been peeking in the window at me. It was the same boy whom I saw on the street earlier. He had watched in shock as Scott escorted me-with my hands bound behind me and a gag stuffed in my mouth-off the boat and into the house. I had assumed the kid had run home screaming, but apparently his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He stared in at me with wide eyes and with complete fascination.

Then he ran away.

The fact that he saw me trussed up didn't bother me-there was very little I could do about it, anyway. I just hoped that he really didn't think I had actually been kidnapped. The last thing anybody needed was a bunch of cops pounding on the door. I twisted and writhed around on the bed until I sat up on the edge of the mattress, with the toes of my bound feet barely touching the carpeted floor. For once during a bondage game I wished that I had not been tied, so I could have gone after that kid and assured him everything was all right.

Yet all I could do was sit on the bed and wait apprehensively until Scott and the men returned. As I suspected, they had gone to the store. In addition to restocking the kitchen, they also got a pizza pie for Scott and me. When Scott came in and untied me, I found out that, due to the rain, the fishing trip was cancelled-however, that did not mean we would be going straight back home. We would spend the night here, at the cabin. We would go home tomorrow, as was originally planned.

When I told Scott about the kit at the window, he didn't appear too bothered by it. He said that it was a kid named Michael who rented with his family the house right up the street. Scott assured me that Michael wouldn't cause any trouble, no matter what he thought he saw.

Before I went to join Scott, his father and uncle for pizza (which, as it turned out, was my first meal of the day; pizza is the breakfast of champions), I decided it was about time to change out of my bedclothes. Scott and I didn't play any more bondage games that day, and after my encounter with the kid at the window, I was just as glad. I figured that was finally the end of my bondage games for this weekend.

But little did I ever realize just how wrong I was…for just a few hours later, I would be once again gagged and trussed up with rope, and not entirely sure if it was a result of simply playing a game.

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