Hey Snowylocks. Glad these stories bring back memories.
Here are the last chapters posted on the old site. Next week there will be material that has never been posted, with the introduction of new characters.
25. Chasing the Cold Winter Away
The words that resounded in the room froze the ongoing entertainment for a couple seconds that seemed to last for an eternity. Lewis had jumped on Matt swiftly, hand-gagging him while mumbling some uneasy justification.
“He didn’t say the exact phrase that… Erm… I mean… It’s too late anyway, and…”
The uneasy look from Fred, and Phil rolling his eyes in disapproval convinced Lewis that there was no way out of this one. He removed his hand from Matt’s mouth. There wasn’t much more to say. The new recruit had gained control over the whole setup. Lewis didn’t voice it out loud though. Pride prevented him to say anything more. An awkward silence lingered on for a few seconds, until Matt realized he was expected to take over.
“I think the captive scientist managed to get the secret message through. Now, why don’t you release the other side’s cheerl… uh, secret agents.”
Philip and Fred reluctantly set off unknotting the ropes that bound the three prisoners, as Lewis undertook to untie Matt.
“I thought we had gagged you thoroughly enough, Matt,” Lewis said as he removed the piece of tape that still clung to Matt’s cheek, and then rid him of the small soggy bag that hung pitifully.
“I managed to chew off the ribbon that kept the bag in my mouth. From there, wetting the tape to spit the thing was child’s play.”
“I’m utterly glad the bag was sewn solidly and that you didn’t manage to rip the little sack with these sharp little teeth of yours, my friend, for if these grains had emptied in your throat… I can’t imagine how distressing this would have been for us.”
“Yeah, and lethal for me! Thanks for your concern over my safety,” Matt snigg*red, “but you would’ve acted fast, no? And I made sure I chewed the ribbon only.”
Billy, whose gag had also been removed, kept a stately tone to voice out his reproach.
“Really, Lewis, such safety matter should be thought of before. I also wonder about the use of sedatives to make sure you could kidnap Matt without having to meet any resistance from us…”
“Nothing in the rules forbids it,” Philip protested, coming to his friend and mentor’s rescue.
“Then the rules need to be changed,” Ben piped in.
“Yes,” Keith added, while putting his tracksuit on, “we haven’t covered all possibilities in the rules, but this definitely falls under cheating in my book.”
Lewis draped himself in a lordly silence, hoping his accomplices would take on themselves to get him out of this unpleasant situation. Sadly enough for his Highness, they didn’t counter the attacks that went on.
“Yeah, disabling your opponents with drugs is sneaky, not to mention dangerous,” Billy scolded. “I hope the three of you are not too surprised that this evening will be revenge time. And tomorrow, we should play an honest Capture the Flag, basic, no cheating. And we should change the teams too.”
Keith darted his green eyes on Billy, puzzled by such an announcement.
“Yes, K., I like being on your team and stuff. But these are games we’re playing. If it goes on like this, we’ll have two rival gangs, and with Lewis’ taste for drastic measures,” he said while looking at the great doe eyes wide open with indignation, “I’m afraid it will end up badly.”
“Not at all, my friend, not at all! I will confess to being a bit on the competitive side, but I’m a good sport too. Our small deceitfulness was just meant to enhance the game by having you in charge of rescuing the poor victim of a ruthless kidnapping, that’s all.”
He paused, and saw his audience was listening. His nature had to take over, and even in a position of defeat, his bluster had to go on.
“Isn’t it ironical that the poor kidnap victim actually saved the day for skilled, seasoned TuGGers like you, Ben, Keith and Billy?”
A wide grin revealed his white teeth as he pointed to each of his opponents in turn. The shrug from Billy prevented Keith from getting into some more verbal joust; then Ben took the boys back to some more immediate concerns.
“My grandparents will soon be waiting for us for dinner. Of course, you’d planned to free us to get there soon anyway?” he asked, turning to Fred.
“Of course we had!” Fred replied, with so much self-confidence that it sounded fishy. It was more than likely that it had not been part of the actual plans of the winners.
The pavilion was cleaned up of all traces of their coming, and they took a walk through the darkening woods. The cold and foggy air smelled of dead leaves; distant coal and wood fires could be sensed also. Billy thought they were into winter for sure, even though the action-filled day had taken their minds away from any earthly concerns. The little troop stopped at the cottage they had slept in the night before. They dropped their equipment; they made sure they were presentable for dinner and headed to the farm’s main building.
Keith and Billy were trying to come up with something to warn Lewis and his cronies of what they could expect on their way back, but it was Ben who spoke out.
“Don’t you guys think you’re off the hook. I think this is a perfect occasion to give Matt an idea of what an after-game is like.”
Matt who’d been rather quiet and keeping to observing what was going on under his eyes, did approve.
“I sure would like to test the techniques I learned today for restraining someone on a chair.” The ensuing chuckle resounded ominously in the misty forest, which dusk didn’t make too welcoming.
“A pink skirt!” Keith said. “A pink skirt!” He then repeated these words a third time, but the tone had subtly changed from entertained to threatening. As they reached their destination, Lewis had trouble hiding his concern. He knew he’d somehow made the other team quite eager for payback, and he also knew they were as creative as he was. The pleasant whiff of the rustic cooking that assailed him as he entered Ben’s grandparents’ house soothed his anguish temporarily.
Ben’s grandfather did notice that his grandson’s flamboyant friend was not as bubbly and effusive as the day before. There wasn’t much talk anyway, except for some discussion of them making the costumes —Ben didn’t like to lie, but it was for a greater good—and taking a long walk through the estate.
After an impressive amount of food was swallowed, three of the boys proposed to help cleaning up the table and doing the dishes. The very subtle nod from Billy a few seconds before this kind offer wasn’t noticed by the couple of elderly guests, but Philip, Fred and Lewis picked up the unspoken message.
After politely parting, all seven boys walked back to the cottage. This time, the silence was ominous. Sombre thoughts were running through the head of the trio who, just a few hours before, thought this would be a day of complete victory.
The seven lads entered the cottage, with very different mindsets.
“I think some of us should change before we go on,” Billy said, pointing at the cheerleaders’ costumes. “How do you think we should exert our victors’ rights, Matt?” he then asked.
“Erm… Should we really have them wear these?” Matt said, looking contemptuously at the pink outfits, and nonchalantly pushing the hair that fell in front of his eyes.
“No payback, uh?” Keith wondered, concerned about the tenderfoot’s ability to get into their games.
“Oh, yes, I’m all for a payback,” Matt replied in a laugh that didn’t do any good to soothe the three defeated boys’ anxiety. “It’s just that we could show a little more creativity than using their own ploy.”
“You’re not going to have us in the nude?” Lewis’ alarmed voice meekly enquired.
A frank and joyous laughter welcomed his question.
“Of course not! To please my own little fancy, I’d want you to wear the regulation shorts and socks, and your school uniform’s white shirt.”
Philip, Fred and Lewis looked at him, puzzled.
“Fast!” Matt ordered with an authority that he had not displayed thus far. Soon they were standing in a line, the white shirts impeccably tucked into the shorts. The mix of styles did not confer them as much ridicule as the girly garb, but it did look somehow inappropriate.
“Hands behind your backs,” Matt commanded. He was immediately obeyed. Ben, Keith and Billy were quick to tie the crossed hands. More rope at the elbows and at the shoulders, and most possible resistance was hampered.
Matt came closer to Lewis, whom Keith had bound. “It’s impressive how one can be brought down a peg or two in such a short time.”
“I’m just displaying some sort of fair-play. I know to admit I lost, and you won’t be able to thwmmmmbllMMM!” he protested vehemently. But Matt’s graceful hands muffled his reply mercilessly.
“I don’t think I want to hear any more of this logorrhoea,” he said, insisting on the last word, infuriating Lewis who just mmphed even more eagerly and shook his head. But Matt’s hands had a firm grip on his head.
“This is getting fun; Ben, would you bring some stuff to gag such a big mouth?”
“Sure,” Ben replied, “I can even give you a hand.”
Lewis was now showing some obvious signs of rebellion, and as he tried to kick Matt to have him let go off of his head, Keith grabbed his thighs, and quickly looped his ankles with a short piece of white rope, while commenting:
“Yes, I can understand your frustration, Lou, but guess what? You lost, and you don’t have much of a say in what Matt decided for you.”
Ben had gathered the necessary items for their silencing endeavour.
“OK, free his mouth, Matt, so I can get this inside,” he said bringing a substantial mass of white cloth to Lewis’ lips. The hand being removed strangely caused Lewis not to want to open his mouth anymore.
“If you’re going to be difficult,” Matt said while pinching Lewis’ nose. Lewis didn’t want to submit easily, which was even more enjoyable. But one can only hold one’s breath for so long; he had to eventually open his mouth, though he tried to keep jaws locked, just parting his lips. Matt immediately covered his mouth again.
“Don’t be daft, Lewis. I’m not into suffocating boys, but the longer it takes, the harsher the whipping will be!” And he removed his hand, the brown eyes widening in awe.
“Whippmmmmph!” Lewis tried to complain, which allowed Ben to stuff the ball of material inside Lewis’ gob.
“Nice one, Matt! Great trick!” Ben piped.
“Who told you it was a trick?” Matt said as he tied a silk scarf over Lewis’s mouth to prevent him from spitting the gag out. He turned to Ben and winked. He then had a look at the two other prisoners. They looked straight in front, pretending they were not aware of what was going on. Matt knew enough now to understand that the apparent lack of reaction certainly hid some surprise; but displaying it would give too much glee to their opponents.
“A good conductor should ‘sing’ properly too…” Matt snigg*red, looking intently at Philip to remind him of the nasty part he'd played a few hours earlier; but he still wouldn’t budge. Keith was reassured by Matt’s ability to get into the general spirit.
Matt then took a roll of tape to put the finishing touch on Lewis’ gag. The two other captives gave way less trouble to the little gang, not wanting to aggravate their situation. Keith and Billy were now standing in front of the little party; they just enjoyed the show, which was very entertaining, as Philip and Fred were equally reduced to silence. They then eagerly listened to Matt as he got on disclosing his plans on what was to take place next.
“As I said earlier, I'd like to see if I've learned something from being tied up today. I had way enough time to think of a few things before I got rescued!”
“Hey, that's not fair, we-”
“Hold on, Kay, the sarcasm wasn't intended for us...”
“Thank you, Billy; I had three hoodlums to look at. I must say I had time to visualise them in interesting positions. But I don't know for sure who I want to see in which. So I guess a little game is in order to decide who does what. I want to try out the ball tie. It seems to be the most unpleasant one, so the first to lose will have to go with it. Then a hog-tie, and lastly a nice, taut chair tie is in order.”
“And what game are you going to have them play to decide who gets which?” Ben asked.
“Oh, enough of wits for today, we'll go for plain skills this time. Could you please get a goblet, a pitcher of water and a salad bowl from the kitchen, Ben?”
“Right away, Matt!” Ben had no clue what these would be used for, but he was quite eager to find out. The three competitors-to-be stoically waited, wondering whether Matt would get them drenched in water, entertainment for which this was not the best season.
“I don't have anything too fancy in mind. I'm just curious to see how you handle moving around with your hands in your back. And a goblet in your hands.”
As Ben came back, Matt took the salad bowl from his hands.
“Can you put the goblet on the table and fill it with water?” he asked as he himself crossed the room and set the bowl at waist level on an empty bookshelf. “Don’t fill it to the brim; our contestants need a doable task.”
As he neared the three-quarter full glass, Matt took a permanent marker from his trousers’ pocket. He crouched to have his eyes level with the water and carefully drew a thin line to mark how the glass was filled. He stood up and, looking intently towards the three bound and gagged contenders, he launched into a lively speech.
“From what I know, the little Saint Sebastian club has practiced escape artistry a lot. This is all fine and dandy, and it is a much needed skill in case you do get caught by thugs. But we need to also train to move around while in bonds. Say for instance, you have been captured by terrorists, and the only way you’ve got to stop a ticking bomb is to fill the water bowl over there to disconnect the firing mechanism…”
The never-heard of mechanism got a sigh and a very visible roll of eyes from Lewis.
“Lewis? You think this isn’t serious? You may go first, then. That is, once your hobble has been loosened a bit… The one with most water brought over three trips wins.”
Keith had already understood what was expected from him and he was kneeling to lengthen the rope between Lewis’ ankles.
“Perfect,” Matt commented, “three inches it’ll be. Enough to allow some walking, and to require some attention.”
He had grabbed the glass of water and put it between Lewis’ hands.
“Got it? A firm grip on things? Nice. Then go ahead and don’t spill a drop!”
If there was one skill Saint Sebastian boys had developed over time too, it was to read the facial expressions on a face that was half-hidden by various layers of clinging material. And concentration could clearly be perceived on Lewis’ face. He took some small steps, and was obviously focusing on not tilting the glass. His slow progression was followed by cheers and advice from the viewers.
“Yeah! You’re almost there!”
“Nice strut, miss!”
The snigg*rs were not the cause of a single grunt. Lewis was aiming towards the bowl, which he reached slowly. He twisted and wriggled again to avoid having a single drop leak out, and poured the content of the glass in the basin. He turned around and cast a defiant look towards his captors before heading back to the starting point.
He went for two more perilous journeys, but he didn’t flinch at the mockery and calls.
“Ben, could you get a funnel and three empty water bottles?” The host obliged, and Matt poured the content of the salad bowl inside the first bottle.
It was then the turn of Fred, and Philip came last. But as the three bottles were lined up, they all had a rigorously equal level.
“It’s a tie!” Matt said as he turned towards the competitors. “I’m not surprised, of course…” he smirked at them. “But this won’t do. We need a first, a second and a third. So, let’s add another constraint: time.”
“Yeah,” Billy said, “you said the clock was ticking. So let’s have the biggest volume of water per second win!”
It was an approval from all the audience. Even Lewis and Fred nodded somehow. They’d noticed Philip had been particularly slow, so maybe they could actually avoid being the one who’d end up ball-tied by a gang of vindictive opponents.
So they took their turn again, with Billy using the timer on his watch to record the performance of them. This time, a little water was spilled, but as Philip was called to get ready, the volume of water in the bottles was almost similar. Both Lewis and Fred had managed to go a bit faster than the first time around, and still manage not to get much water on the tiled floor.
Once Philip was given his first glass, he surprised everybody by a bold move; holding the glass with his left hand, he covered the top as much as he could with the right one. Then he leaped. In five leaps he had crossed the room, whereas the two others had taken cautious mincing steps! Using the same strategy for his two other crossings, he turned towards his two opponents, a look of triumph in his eyes.
Billy transferred the liquid the black-haired boy had managed to salvage, as Ben frantically wiped the puddles that had formed with this second run. Billy scribbled down a few figures, to get the final results of the little test. His grin was admiring as he turned towards Phil.
“Quite a clever tactic there, Phil. Of course, coming up last, it was easier to assess, but this was clever nonetheless. You took five times less than your mates to do the job, so even with much more water spilled you’d have won anyway.”
Turning towards a wider audience, and eager no to lose a bit of Lewis’ likely reaction, he went on. “So the results are: first Phil, as I just said, then Fred, and last but not least… Lewis!”
“The perfect guinea pig for my ball-tie experiment!” Matt joyfully added.
Of course, the general mirthful atmosphere was not exactly shared by all. As always in similar cases that were getting to be frequent, Lewis used a technique to rationalise what was to happen: he was already thinking of how he’d get his revenge even before he’d been wronged.
And was he actually wronged. The trussing-up that followed proved to be expertly and rightfully performed, with Ben, Keith and Billy providing some excellent advice concerning the web of ropes that proved Lewis was flexible enough to touch his chin with his knees while having the balls of his feet brushing his buttocks.
He soon had the company of a hogtied Fred a couple feet away, and Phil overlooked them from the chair to which he was carefully united with taut, snug rope.
Matt wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Blimey! This is quite a chore to take care of our friends. I feel like going to bed, untying them seems much too tiresome for me doing it today.”
The concerned grunts that ensued told him his tone had been convincing enough. Lewis and Fred, in particular, were buying his bluff and now relied on the other members to explain this wasn’t to be done. It took a while before Billy made clear that they wouldn’t be left like this for the whole night, enough to pour some more taunts and mockery upon the prisoners’ heads. A little longer was taken for comments on the technique used by Matt to truss up the three opponents, and they were eventually released. There were sighs of relief.
“Goodness, Matt,” Fred whined, “that was TIGHT…”
There was a faint smile over Matt’s face, and he took his most innocent look, with the little frown he knew was considered cute to utter a naïve. “Really?”
Lewis, recovering from the stringent ball tie, was stretching and had decided not to let his feelings take over. He yawned, and said, “Well, this wasn’t too bad. For a neophyte, I mean. I think we may call it a day. Of course, let’s declare a truce until eight tomorrow morning, and the planned Capture the Flag.”
Seeing the suspicious looks from Ben, Keith and Billy, Lewis looked at them wide-eyed both, his mouth slack and his lips twitching.
“Why? You don’t believe me, do you? This makes me very, very sad.” His tone carried the message as much as his face did.
“Mmh,” Keith replied, “But of course we do! But I’ll lock the bedroom door anyway.”
“If this may comfort you,” Lewis sighed.
Some idle chit-chat went on for a bit longer, and they all got back to where they had slept the night before. Lewis made the solemn promise Matt would be able to enjoy a peaceful night, and soon everybody was sound asleep.
The next morning, Lewis was first to wake up, and he eagerly went downstairs, to fix breakfast for everyone. He opened the curtains, only to discover a leaden-coloured sky, and a steady rain falling. He cursed to himself and got to making tea. Once everything was ready, he went back upstairs, opened the doors to the rooms, and taking a few steps back to the landing, he took his breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs: “GOOOD MOOOOORNING!”
Chuckling from seeing the motionless bodies covered in blankets being animated by his trumpeting voice, Lewis added with a sugary tone, “Breakfast is ready, boys! And we have a long day ahead, don’t we?”
Various insults and threats ensued, but Lewis was already merrily hopping back downstairs. The rest of the Saint Sebastian party soon joined him, but they were none too bubbly until after a healthy breakfast. Then the poor weather was discussed.
“Do you really think the Capture the Flag game should be on?” Matt asked.
“I can do with the cold, but the rain…” Fred replied.
The boys all voiced out a similar concern, since none of them felt like spending time getting soaked by the cold rain while being trussed up to a tree. While their reluctance to go outside was discussed, Phil’s mind wandered around as he pictured himself tied to a tree wrapped in a long rubber mac and boots, just wearing his shorts; he smiled. Lewis spoke last.
“If it was only for me, I wouldn’t see any inconvenience in having some outdoors fun. We aren’t made out of sugar, after all. But I’m more than willing to submit to the majority decision. I hope we can reach some consensus on how we should occupy ourselves until this evening when we get back to Saint Sebastian.”
“This cottage is a bit small for a chase or anything that involves running around.” Keith stated.
“Yeah, we’d have to think of something…” Billy contemplated, his frown revealing he was thinking really hard.
“Let me see,” Matt said as he rummaged in shelves lined besides the chimney, “Isn’t this a Risk game? Aren’t you all players? We might make a variation up.”
“One that involves tie-ups?” Ben asked, puzzled. “Like last time when Lewis and Phil watched us playing.”
“Not like this,” Matt said, “if they didn’t play in the first place and were already tied up.”
Phil didn’t interrupt Matt to retell how it had actually gone down. He thought it wiser to prod him into moving on in his explanation. Fresh ideas were always interesting.
“How would you play, then?”
“We can make it simple. I mean, we’re seven, and the game can be played by six people at the max. So, we could have a two-team game, and every time a country’s won, then the team that loses has a hostage tied up.”
“Hum, this might work,” Billy approved. “Then can the prisoner be freed by regaining the country?”
The discussion went on for ten minutes, with everyone pondering over the implications of the rules they were making up. Eventually, they decided that the teams would be made according to their first names’ alphabetical order, which meant Ben, Billy and Fred would face Keith, Lewis, Matt and Phil. The rules implied that the potential hostage would be designated before the dice would be rolled in an attack, and that the goal of the game was to capture three players of the other team.
In their eagerness to get started, what would then happen next was not discussed. Some people on each side had actually thought about this, but they didn’t raise the question as they had ulterior motives on their minds.
The two parties sat around the table and three boys faced four. Each side received half of the deck, and they started placing armies on the territories they had gotten. The strategy had to be somehow different, since their objective was not to conquer a particular subset of the board but to defend each territory from being seized. Hence the repartition of the armies on the particular territories was the object of much thought and whispered confabulations.
The forces were quite evenly spread, and it seemed obvious that luck would keep on playing a major role in the rest of the game. Eventually, both sides were lined facing each others at the table and the first round started.
There were a few provocations and taunts, but overall everyone was focused on the ongoing game. It took seven turns of minor losses before the dice decided to have a territory captured by the smallest team. As Phil had been designated to be the hostage, the temporarily winning trio set to grant him an honest and serious chair tie.
Fifty feet of rope were sufficient to guarantee he wouldn’t be able to move, and three scarves and a couple feet of white surgical tape ensured he wouldn’t be able to advise his team mates. The ten minutes it took to enforce the penalty got some snide comments uttered, but Lewis paid more attention to the board than to his friend’s ordeal, since he was up against Billy, and if he could live with being a victim of bad luck, he at least didn’t want to make a poor move.
The game went on smoothly and quietly. Both sets of belligerents managed to get some reinforcements. Billy’s team did get more, thanks to having the right cards dealt to them. It was twenty minutes later that Siam was lost by Lewis and his two partners. It was Keith’s turn to be tied up; he ended up trussed up to the supporting pole ten feet away from the playing table.
There was more boisterous boasting this time, as the web of ropes was woven around the pole and its associated boy, and sighs and snigg*rs from the other side, kept rather low-key as Lewis had signalled to Matt that there was a flaw in their opponents’ defence.
“You see, Kay,” Billy said in his most ominous villain voice, “it’s showing respect to an opponent to bind him tightly; it shows you consider he would be able to run away before he gets fed to the alligators!”
The moan that followed meant that the joke was not considered funny, but with a ball of cloth previously stuffed in his mouth by Ben, Keith had to just take this belittling humour without any protesting. The game could go on, as he was now solidly bound and gagged, and in no state to part from the pole soon.
Lewis and Matt rejoiced over the fact that Billy had apparently missed the fact that Kamchatka was quite vulnerable. As he launched the attack, Lewis looked at Billy who blanched.
“You’re really adamant on joining Keith in his ordeal? You wish you’d volunteered instead of the poor chap we’re about to bind?” Lewis asked, pointing at Fred with his chin, as he was the one to become the hostage would they lose the battle.
There were some fierce dice rolls in the next minutes, and Fred sighed as his fate was eventually sealed. He frowned at Billy who sported a victorious smile. The battle had weakened the opponents’ position in Asia, which meant winning Ural in the next round would certainly be easy.
Aware of Fred’s frown at a team mate rejoicing about him ending up trussed up like a chicken, knowing Lewis and Matt would certainly not go easy on him, Billy discretely winked to let him know his smirk was caused by the opposing party. A quick glance towards the board signalled Fred that the game was the cause for his good mood. His sacrifice would be short, hopefully.
As it had been discussed beforehand, there was now a choice to be made for the conquerors of Ural. They could either make a prisoner or free one of theirs. The choice was quickly made, as Lewis turned towards his two friends who had fallen prey to the rigorous tying up performed by their enemies.
“Do not take it wrongly, my friends, but it would appear that it’s more important to make prisoners so we can get a quick victory. Your stoically remaining captive will ensure that Matt and I are able to roll out my clever strategy until the three little weasels are properly captured.”
The protests were dampened by the gags, but Philip really tried to get his word across, which was a complete failure. He had seen that things did not look too bright for his team on the board, and he would have liked to point out where they should use reinforcements to secure their positions better. Alas, his concerned mmphing did not yield the expected result.
“Phil, Phil, Phil, my friend, I know you can show some patience. I promise you that once we win, you may pick any of our captives to have your fun with.”
Matt and Lewis displayed some sleight of hand as they made short work of restraining Fred on a chair in a custom similar to the one that had been used on Philip; they made promises of a much tougher future for their next prisoner. Ben and Billy said nothing, letting the bragging go on, as they had realized that unless the dice were really against them, they’d end up making a captive in the next round.
Lewis was now certain that the tables were being turned, and he even offered himself as the next hostage as he sat back to the table. Twenty-eight seconds went on before he regretted his chivalric move. When Ural was attacked, he crossed his fingers that he’d be luckier than Ben and Billy with the dice.
This wasn’t sufficient, though; he couldn’t cross his toes to give him the extra luck he needed. A five being higher than a four, and a four being higher than a two, the swift attack was successful. Ben used his acting talent to look genuinely sorry for Lewis. But his enthusiasm in managing a well-crafted ball tie later on disproved any real feeling he might have had. Neither did his initiative for a thorough and well muffling gag. Two scarves were balled up and crammed into the flamboyant leader’s mouth.
Billy approached with what would be the finishing touch on the silencing compound. Sticky tape and a roll of gauze to mummify his head completed the set-up, framing the boy’s face with regular, symmetrical patterns.
“So, Matt, I guess the game is over. We won. We didn’t decide on this particular situation, and maybe you can still save the day.” Billy announced. Matt knew that any deal with his Saint Sebastian friends was risky, but it was tough to chicken out if he was offered to free his team mates. He listened to what Billy had to say.
“We’re nice guys, so it’ll be no surprise we offer you to play on. Every time you win a battle, it’s your call to have one of us tied up or one of your friends freed. Of course, if you lose one, you know what’s in store for you.”
This sudden change in rules triggered some muffled questions and reactions; Matt could not make out whether they were reproaches to the antagonists or encouragements for him to go on. He chose the latter, and locking his eyes into Billy’s, he agreed to keep playing.
Oblivious to what could only be interpreted as protests coming from Lewis, who now realized that not discussing the aftermath before the game started was a poor move, Matt sat back at the table next to Philippe who, for obvious reasons, had not stood up to witness the balling up of Lewis.
He’d had time to analyze the board, and was appalled by Matt falling into Billy’s trap. His desperate grunts apparently bore no effect on Matt who was oblivious of his warning. They now had at least two highly vulnerable countries, which meant that Matt’s freedom should be short-lived. Sadly enough for their team, Phil’s analysis was correct. Less than thirty minutes later, Matt had gotten united to the remaining supporting pole, wrapped in rope and his full mouth sealed by numerous layers of tape and cloth.
At this point only could Ben and Billy mention what was to happen next, as they released Fred from his chair tie.
“Now that we won the day, what should we do with our prisoners?” Ben asked. Billy lengthily caressed his chin with his long fingers.
“Do you think they have any intelligence we might need, Ben?”
Fred answered the question, as his Ben was busy disposing of the spittle-covered piece of cloth he’d just removed from his friend’s mouth.
“I doubt very much they have anything interesting to say. Best thing to keep busy is to leave them bound and gagged and torture them, if you ask me.”
“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought of this myself,” Billy hypocritically stated, “but this sure is an interesting idea.”
As Ben came back, he noticed the signs of discomfort Lewis displayed, as he was holding his position on the cold tile, the strictness of the ball tie starting to get its toll. Ben moved to the table, and after having gone around his chair and casually patted Philip’s head, he started picking the armies, the cards and the dice, and he soon had the table tidied.
“I hear you, my friends,” he said as he put the box away in its dedicated cupboard a few feet from the table, “let’s start with their general. Give me a hand, it’ll be easier to handle him once spread-eagled over the table, don’t you think?”
Lewis had mixed feelings about their sudden attention. He was relieved to get a more comfortable position, especially since he was wondering when nasty cramps would start kicking in, and he knew it was a matter of minutes, but it was likely that they would show some creativity in whatever torture they would come up with.
They untied the ropes that kept his knees to his chest and his ankles to his butt, and let him stretch over the hard cold floor for a few minutes. They then picked him up and frog-marched him to the table. Facing the shortest side of the table, he was bent at the waist so his chest would touch the varnished wood. Fred and Ben picked up his bound ankles, lifted them and pushed him forward so he would fully lie over the table.
The little winning trio undertook their knotting endeavour quite joyously, addressing in turns the prisoner they were working on and his three brothers-in-ropes, who could only squirm and grunt dejectedly as the possible torture scenarios were dealt with one by one.
Once the legs formed an immovable Y, with five rings of ropes wrapped on each and anchoring him to the piece of furniture, they similarly took care of his arms. Lying face down on the wood, he was powerless to react to the comments being made.
“Nice butt, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, these shorts give him a nice figure!”
“Look how it’s sticking up, like if our Lewis wants a spanking…”
“Mmmmgrmmlll!!!”
There was very little wriggling around to accompany this complaint. The ropes prevented any move outside the stretched out position.
Billy turned to Ben, who’d referred to the spanking.
“This is tempting. But wouldn’t it be more fun to tickle him for a while?”
“Yeah,” Fred said, “Lewis can take pain better than tickles. Tickling would be fun.”
Ben smiled. “I’d say let’s go for both, but majority rules. D’you know where he’s the most ticklish?”
“I bet Phil does!” Fred replied.
The three inquisitors turned towards Phil, who writhed uneasily on his chair as the bonds allowed.
“Do you?” Billy asked Phil, who neither nodded nor shook his head.
“Mmmrphhtphhhmmm…”
“Darn,” Ben sighed, “he’s going to give us his ‘I’m not a traitor’ act. Not much choice for us, hey?”
Billy thought that he actually knew from previous games where Lewis was the most ticklish. Ben and Fred had to know too. But torturing it out of Phil was indeed a better way. Ben didn’t need a prompt, he’d come close to Phil, and slowly approached his open hand towards his chest.
His fingertips brushed ever so lightly the nylon-covered chest, and once he’d gotten some reactions, his hand moved slightly south. Alternating between the flanks and the belly, he managed to get Phil to writhe around. Ben and Fred joined him, and soon the sounds of the muffled laughter and of the creaking chair filled the room. They stopped as Phil’s face turned crimson, and they asked him the proverbial question.
“Ready to talk?”
Philip was recovering, and once his heavy breathing got more regular, he looked at them defiantly and shook his head. The victors exchanged some meaningful glances; a new bout of tickling ensued. It led to a similar result, which caused Ben to suggest a change in the interrogation technique used. He fetched some pheasant feathers in a cupboard, while Billy and Fred untied the legs from the chair, leaving the ropes at ankles and knees, and then removed shoes and socks to have an easy access to the prisoner’s soles.
While they got Phil to almost suffocate in a record time, he still stubbornly refused to give up. The look he got from Lewis, helplessly laid on his table, was quite grateful.
“No use wasting our time with this one, he’ll pay later on. Let’s get to Lewis and find out for ourselves.” Billy declared.
Armed with a feather each, the three executioners turned back to Lewis. They had some fun tickling the inside of his thighs and his flanks, which were sensitive areas, but seen the position he was in, they could not get to work on what they knew would yield the most results, namely the spot just underneath his navel. After having him wriggle ever so faintly with the confines of his restraints, Ben suggested to get him in a position in which he’d be more fully exposed.
They soon made a decision: the balcony overlooking the room would make an excellent anchor for ropes to suspend him. The work was carefully divided, and they got to the task which left Lewis on tiptoes, wrists and elbows tied and raised above his head, a rope harness wrapping his torso, and ankles, knees and thighs equally restrained. His wrists were linked to the balcony by a rope which bore very little strain as most of the weight was supported by two ropes tied to the rope harness. Though it looked impressive, it would be possible to keep him like this for a little while. Cramps in the shoulders and arms could appear, but it was quite unlikely.
The position thus unwillingly adopted by Lewis was then extended to his team mates.
“Quite a nice bag we’ve hunted!” Fred said as they were eventually done with tying all four opponents in their vertical position.
“I’ll say, they’ve got quite a precious position, like ballerinas with their feet arched like this!” Ben exclaimed.
Of course, this new row of taunting didn’t please its recipients. But the torturers’ laughter covered the objections dampened by the gags. Keith’s comment on ballerinas not usually dressed in nylon shorts and jerseys were none too intelligible.
“Hey, it’s already half past one!” Fred exclaimed.
“Time flies when you’re in good company…” Billy added.
“Some lunch, maybe?” Ben suggested. He acted on his offer and headed to the small kitchen to get the food he’d been given the night before.
The three captors sat at the table. Billy wondered out loud whether the place where Lewis had laid should be disinfected, which caused a reply that sounded like the threat of a dire payback, but the tone was more ominous than the actual verbal message. This concern for sanitization did not yield any actual cleaning action; the food was put into disposable plates anyway. Once done with their frugal meal, the three boys thought of the prisoners.
“Yeah,” Ben said, “I guess we should have them get some marmite sandwich and crisps. We’re not barbarians.”
It took a long time before they got to Lewis, who was last in line – well, he was first also, but they started on the other side. Removing the gag, feeding the captive, gagging him again, it was no small task. When they eventually got to the verbose leader, who’d had to remain silent or misunderstood for over two hours, the removing of the gag brought some very different reaction. His three friends had patiently waited and had not made a fuss, but, wouldn’t you know it, Lewis did let his anger come out noisily.
“You, bunch of barmy wallies! You’re getting your revenge in advance for the punishment you’ll receimmmmph!”
“Lewis, my friend,” Billy said as he crammed the wadding back into Lewis’ mouth, nodding to Ben to get on with the tape, “your reasoning is flawed. We’ve been able to give you some payback all the time. But since you won’t learn your lesson…”
“No lunch for you.” Fred sombrely concluded.
It was already quite late. They had time for one last game only. It was Ben’s idea. He grabbed a length of rope, and faced the four tied up boys, who were starting to feel a bit sore from standing with their arms stretched above them. He tied a big know at the end of the 5-foot long length of cord. He crouched down and started swinging the rope from left to right and back. The knotted bit passed close to the prisoners’ feet.
“OK, first one to get hit by the rope gets a ball tie!” Ben chirped.
Fred and Billy watched this interesting after-meal exercise with interest. Ben was a fair rope-swinger, as he kept the pace even and made sure the rope stayed close to the floor. It made the jumping to avoid it an even better show, since the prisoners got into the groove and managed fairly well to avoid the cotton snake trying to bite their legs.
“How much do you bet Lewis’s going to lose again?” Billy asked Fred.
Coincidence or not, this comment almost coincided with Philip not able to get away from the rope’s path. He got the final ball tie on a blanket spread over the tiles at his friends’ feet, and a short tickling session followed, before everybody was eventually released.
A discussion on the dishonesty of Billy’s team was loudly carried out as the boys all got busy collecting their stuff and tidying the place they’d been gracefully lent. They wondered if they would have another game in the evening once they’d be back to Saint Sebastian, but they eventually decided against it, since the weekend had been knotty enough.
They thanked Ben’s grandparents wholeheartedly; they greeted Billy’s and Philip’s fathers before they got into the two cars that were to take them back to their beloved House. After a few minutes, four of the seven boys actually dozed off, and they didn’t party all night long once they were back to the dorm.
It had been a fun weekend.
“Good night, lads,” Lewis said before they retired to their private quarters, “it’s been fun, and I’d bet there are more fun times like this ahead. Thanks to Matt for new ideas. I hope we have more new members to our club to have even better games.”
They all hoped this wish would come true. And little did they know that it would…
26. Risk Management
The next morning, Lewis was first to wake up, and he eagerly went downstairs, to fix breakfast for everyone. He opened the curtains, only to discover a leaden-coloured sky, and a steady rain falling. He cursed to himself and got to making tea. Once everything was ready, he went back upstairs, opened the doors to the rooms, and taking a few steps back to the landing, he took his breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs: “GOOOD MOOOOORNING!”
Chuckling from seeing the motionless bodies covered in blankets being animated by his trumpeting voice, Lewis added with a sugary tone, “Breakfast is ready, boys! And we have a long day ahead, don’t we?”
Various insults and threats ensued, but Lewis was already merrily hopping back downstairs. The rest of the Saint Sebastian party soon joined him, but they were none too bubbly until after a healthy breakfast. Then the poor weather was discussed.
“Do you really think the Capture the Flag game should be on?” Matt asked.
“I can do with the cold, but the rain…” Fred replied.
The boys all voiced out a similar concern, since none of them felt like spending time getting soaked by the cold rain while being trussed up to a tree. While their reluctance to go outside was discussed, Phil’s mind wandered around as he pictured himself tied to a tree wrapped in a long rubber mac and boots, just wearing his shorts; he smiled. Lewis spoke last.
“If it was only for me, I wouldn’t see any inconvenience in having some outdoors fun. We aren’t made out of sugar, after all. But I’m more than willing to submit to the majority decision. I hope we can reach some consensus on how we should occupy ourselves until this evening when we get back to Saint Sebastian.”
“This cottage is a bit small for a chase or anything that involves running around.” Keith stated.
“Yeah, we’d have to think of something…” Billy contemplated, his frown revealing he was thinking really hard.
“Let me see,” Matt said as he rummaged in shelves lined besides the chimney, “Isn’t this a Risk game? Aren’t you all players? We might make a variation up.”
“One that involves tie-ups?” Ben asked, puzzled. “Like last time when Lewis and Phil watched us playing.”
“Not like this,” Matt said, “if they didn’t play in the first place and were already tied up.”
Phil didn’t interrupt Matt to retell how it had actually gone down. He thought it wiser to prod him into moving on in his explanation. Fresh ideas were always interesting.
“How would you play, then?”
“We can make it simple. I mean, we’re seven, and the game can be played by six people at the max. So, we could have a two-team game, and every time a country’s won, then the team that loses has a hostage tied up.”
“Hum, this might work,” Billy approved. “Then can the prisoner be freed by regaining the country?”
The discussion went on for ten minutes, with everyone pondering over the implications of the rules they were making up. Eventually, they decided that the teams would be made according to their first names’ alphabetical order, which meant Ben, Billy and Fred would face Keith, Lewis, Matt and Phil.
They quickly cleaned and dressed into proper Saint Sebastian attire to be ready for the upcoming activities. Ben added wood in the fire to ensure they would be comfortable. Though even if not running around all the time, they were bound to be involved into some action.
The two parties sat around the table and three boys faced four.
The rules implied that the potential hostage would be designated before the dice would be rolled in an attack, and that the goal of the game was to capture three players of the other team. This would make for the difference in numbers between the two teams.
In their eagerness to get started, what would then happen next was not discussed. Some people on each side had actually thought about this, but they didn’t raise the question as they had ulterior motives on their minds.
Each side received half of the deck, and they started placing armies on the territories they had gotten. The strategy had to be somehow different, since their objective was not to conquer a particular subset of the board but to defend each territory from being seized. Hence the repartition of the armies on the particular territories was the object of much thought and whispered confabulations.
The forces were quite evenly spread, and it seemed obvious that luck would keep on playing a major role in the rest of the game. Eventually, both sides were lined facing each others at the table and the first round started.
There were a few provocations and taunts, but overall everyone was focused on the ongoing game. It took seven turns of minor losses before the dice decided to have a territory captured by the smallest team. As Phil had been designated to be the hostage, the temporarily winning trio set to grant him an honest and serious chair tie.
Fifty feet of rope were sufficient to guarantee he wouldn’t be able to move, and three scarves and a couple feet of white surgical tape ensured he wouldn’t be able to advise his team mates. The ten minutes it took to enforce the penalty got some snide comments uttered, but Lewis paid more attention to the board than to his friend’s ordeal, since he was up against Billy, and if he could live with being a victim of bad luck, he at least didn’t want to make a poor move. Plus if he used the time gained by Philip’s sacrifice to study enough to get an advantage, so it was not time lost.
The game went on smoothly and quietly. Both sets of belligerents managed to get some reinforcements. Billy’s team did get more, thanks to having the right cards dealt to them. It was twenty minutes later that Siam was lost by Lewis and his two partners. It was Keith’s turn to be tied up; he ended up trussed up to the supporting pole ten feet away from the playing table.
There was more boisterous boasting this time, as the web of ropes was woven around the pole and its associated boy, and sighs and snigg*rs from the other side, kept rather low-key as Lewis had signalled to Matt that there was a flaw in their opponents’ defence.
“You see, Kay,” Billy said in his most ominous villain voice, “it’s showing respect to an opponent to bind him tightly; it shows you consider he would be able to run away before he gets fed to the alligators!”
The moan that followed meant that the joke was not considered funny, but with a ball of cloth previously stuffed in his mouth by Ben, Keith had to just take this belittling humour without any protesting. The game could go on, as he was now solidly bound and gagged, and in no state to part from the pole soon.
Lewis and Matt rejoiced over the fact that Billy had apparently missed the fact that Kamchatka was quite vulnerable. As he launched the attack, Lewis looked at Billy who blanched.
“You’re really adamant on joining Keith in his ordeal? You wish you’d volunteered instead of the poor chap we’re about to bind?” Lewis asked, pointing at Fred with his chin, as he was the one to become the hostage would they lose the battle.
There were some fierce dice rolls in the next minutes, and Fred sighed as his fate was eventually sealed. He frowned at Billy who sported a victorious smile. The battle had weakened the opponents’ position in Asia, which meant winning Ural in the next round would certainly be easy.
Aware of Fred’s frown at a team mate rejoicing about him ending up trussed up like a chicken, knowing Lewis and Matt would certainly not go easy on him, Billy discretely winked to let him know his smirk was caused by the opposing party. A quick glance towards the board signalled Fred that the game was the cause for his good mood. His sacrifice would be short, hopefully.
As it had been discussed beforehand, there was now a choice to be made for the conquerors of Ural. They could either make a prisoner or free one of theirs. The choice was quickly made, as Lewis turned towards his two friends who had fallen prey to the rigorous tying up performed by their enemies.
“Do not take it wrongly, my friends, but it would appear that it’s more important to make prisoners so we can get a quick victory. Your stoically remaining captive will ensure that Matt and I are able to roll out my clever strategy until the three little weasels are properly captured.”
The protests were dampened by the gags, but Philip really tried to get his word across, which was a complete failure. He had seen that things did not look too bright for his team on the board, and he would have liked to point out where they should use reinforcements to secure their positions better. Alas, his concerned mmphing did not yield the expected result.
“Phil, Phil, Phil, my friend, I know you can show some patience. I promise you that once we win, you may pick any of our captives to have your fun with.”
Matt and Lewis displayed some sleight of hand as they made short work of restraining Fred on a chair in a custom similar to the one that had been used on Philip; they made promises of a much tougher future for their next prisoner. Ben and Billy said nothing, letting the bragging go on, as they had realized that unless the dice were really against them, they’d end up making a captive in the next round.
Lewis was now certain that the tables were being turned, and he even offered himself as the next hostage as he sat back to the table. Twenty-eight seconds went on before he regretted his chivalric move. When Ural was attacked, he crossed his fingers that he’d be luckier than Ben and Billy with the dice.
This wasn’t sufficient, though; he couldn’t cross his toes to give him the extra luck he needed. A five being higher than a four, and a four being higher than a two, the swift attack was successful. Ben used his acting talent to look genuinely sorry for Lewis. But his enthusiasm in managing a well-crafted ball tie later on disproved any real feeling he might have had. Neither did his initiative for a thorough and well muffling gag. Two scarves were balled up and crammed into the flamboyant leader’s mouth.
Billy approached with what would be the finishing touch on the silencing compound. Sticky tape and a roll of gauze to mummify his head completed the set-up, framing the boy’s face with regular, symmetrical patterns.
“So, Matt, I guess the game is over. We won. We’re supposed to take care of you too; but we like playing, and to make it a bit longer, maybe we can let you try to save the day.” Billy announced. Matt knew that any deal with his Saint Sebastian friends was risky, but it was tough to chicken out if he was offered to free his team mates. He listened to what Billy had to say.
“We’re nice guys, so it’ll be no surprise we offer you to play on. Every time you win a battle, it’s your call to have one of us tied up or one of your friends freed. Of course, if you lose one, you know what’s in store for you.”
This sudden change in rules triggered some muffled questions and reactions; Matt could not make out whether they were reproaches to the antagonists or encouragements for him to go on. He chose the latter, and locking his eyes into Billy’s, he agreed to keep playing.
Oblivious to what could only be interpreted as protests coming from Lewis, who now realized that not discussing the aftermath before the game started was a poor move, Matt sat back at the table next to Philippe who, for obvious reasons, had not stood up to witness the balling up of Lewis.
He’d had time to analyze the board, and was appalled by Matt falling into Billy’s trap. His desperate grunts apparently bore no effect on Matt who was oblivious of his warning. They now had at least two highly vulnerable countries, which meant that Matt’s freedom should be short-lived. Sadly enough for their team, Phil’s analysis was correct. Less than thirty minutes later, Matt had gotten united to the remaining supporting pole, wrapped in rope and his full mouth sealed by numerous layers of tape and cloth.
At this point only could Ben and Billy mention what was to happen next, as they released Fred from his chair tie.
“Now that we won the day, what should we do with our prisoners?” Ben asked. Billy lengthily caressed his chin with his long fingers.
“Do you think they have any intelligence we might need, Ben?”
Fred answered the question, as his Ben was busy disposing of the spittle-covered piece of cloth he’d just removed from his friend’s mouth.
“I doubt very much they have anything interesting to say. Best thing to keep busy is to leave them bound and gagged and torture them, if you ask me.”
“Interesting. I wouldn’t have thought of this myself,” Billy hypocritically stated, “but this sure is an interesting idea.”
As Ben came back, he noticed the signs of discomfort Lewis displayed, as he was holding his position on the cold tile, the strictness of the ball tie starting to get its toll. Ben moved to the table, and after having gone around his chair and casually patted Philip’s head, he started picking the armies, the cards and the dice, and he soon had the table tidied.
“I hear you, my friends,” he said as he put the box away in its dedicated cupboard a few feet from the table, “let’s start with their general. Give me a hand, it’ll be easier to handle him once spread-eagled over the table, don’t you think?”
Lewis had mixed feelings about their sudden attention. He was relieved to get a more comfortable position, especially since he was wondering when nasty cramps would start kicking in, and he knew it was a matter of minutes, but it was likely that they would show some creativity in whatever torture they would come up with.
They untied the ropes that kept his knees to his chest and his ankles to his butt, and let him stretch over the hard cold floor for a few minutes. They then picked him up and frog-marched him to the table. Facing the shortest side of the table, he was bent at the waist so his chest would touch the varnished wood. Fred and Ben picked up his bound ankles, lifted them and pushed him forward so he would fully lie over the table.
The little winning trio undertook their knotting endeavour quite joyously, addressing in turns the prisoner they were working on and his three brothers-in-ropes, who could only squirm and grunt dejectedly as the possible torture scenarios were dealt with one by one.
Once the legs formed an immovable Y, with five rings of ropes wrapped on each and anchoring him to the piece of furniture, they similarly took care of his arms. Lying face down on the wood, he was powerless to react to the comments being made.
“Nice butt, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, these shorts give him a nice figure!”
“Look how it’s sticking up, like if our Lewis wants a spanking…”
“Mmmmgrmmlll!!!”
There was very little wriggling around to accompany this complaint. The ropes prevented any move outside the stretched out position.
Billy turned to Ben, who’d referred to the spanking.
“This is tempting. But wouldn’t it be more fun to tickle him for a while?”
“Yeah,” Fred said, “Lewis can take pain better than tickles. Tickling would be fun.”
Ben smiled. “I’d say let’s go for both, but majority rules. D’you know where he’s the most ticklish?”
“I bet Phil does!” Fred replied.
The three inquisitors turned towards Phil, who writhed uneasily on his chair as the bonds allowed.
“Do you?” Billy asked Phil, who neither nodded nor shook his head.
“Mmmrphhtphhhmmm…”
“Darn,” Ben sighed, “he’s going to give us his ‘I’m not a traitor’ act. Not much choice for us, hey?”
Billy thought that he actually knew from previous games where Lewis was the most ticklish. Ben and Fred had to know too. But torturing it out of Phil was indeed a better way. Ben didn’t need a prompt, he’d come close to Phil, and slowly approached his open hand towards his chest.
His fingertips brushed ever so lightly the nylon-covered chest, and once he’d gotten some reactions, his hand moved slightly south. Alternating between the flanks and the belly, he managed to get Phil to writhe around. Ben and Fred joined him, and soon the sounds of the muffled laughter and of the creaking chair filled the room. They stopped as Phil’s face turned crimson, and they asked him the proverbial question.
“Ready to talk?”
Philip was recovering, and once his heavy breathing got more regular, he looked at them defiantly and shook his head. The victors exchanged some meaningful glances; a new bout of tickling ensued. It led to a similar result, which caused Ben to suggest a change in the interrogation technique used. He fetched some pheasant feathers in a cupboard, while Billy and Fred untied the legs from the chair, leaving the ropes at ankles and knees, and then removed shoes and socks to have an easy access to the prisoner’s soles.
While they got Phil to almost suffocate in a record time, he still stubbornly refused to give up. The look he got from Lewis, helplessly laid on his table, was quite grateful.
“No use wasting our time with this one, he’ll pay later on. Let’s get to Lewis and find out for ourselves.” Billy declared.
Armed with a feather each, the three executioners turned back to Lewis. They had some fun tickling the inside of his thighs and his flanks, which were sensitive areas, but seen the position he was in, they could not get to work on what they knew would yield the most results, namely the spot just underneath his navel. After having him wriggle ever so faintly with the confines of his restraints, Ben suggested to get him in a position in which he’d be more fully exposed.
They soon made a decision: the balcony overlooking the room would make an excellent anchor for ropes to suspend him. The work was carefully divided, and they got to the task which left Lewis on tiptoes, wrists and elbows tied and raised above his head, a rope harness wrapping his torso, and ankles, knees and thighs equally restrained. His wrists were linked to the balcony by a rope which bore very little strain as most of the weight was supported by two ropes tied to the rope harness. Though it looked impressive, it would be possible to keep him like this for a little while. Cramps in the shoulders and arms could appear, but it was quite unlikely.
The position thus unwillingly adopted by Lewis was then extended to his team mates.
“Quite a nice bag we’ve hunted!” Fred said as they were eventually done with tying all four opponents in their vertical position.
“I’ll say, they’ve got quite a precious position, like ballerinas with their feet arched like this!” Ben exclaimed.
Of course, this new row of taunting didn’t please its recipients. But the torturers’ laughter covered the objections dampened by the gags. Keith’s comment on ballerinas not usually dressed in nylon shorts and jerseys were none too intelligible.
“Hey, it’s already half past one!” Fred exclaimed.
“Time flies when you’re in good company…” Billy added.
“Some lunch, maybe?” Ben suggested. He acted on his offer and headed to the small kitchen to get the food he’d been given the night before.
The three captors sat at the table. Billy wondered out loud whether the place where Lewis had laid should be disinfected, which caused a reply that sounded like the threat of a dire payback, but the tone was more ominous than the actual verbal message. This concern for sanitization did not yield any actual cleaning action; the food was put into disposable plates anyway. Once done with their frugal meal, the three boys thought of the prisoners.
“Yeah,” Ben said, “I guess we should have them get some marmite sandwich and crisps. We’re not barbarians.”
It took a long time before they got to Lewis, who was last in line – well, he was first also, but they started on the other side. Removing the gag, feeding the captive, gagging him again, it was no small task. When they eventually got to the verbose leader, who’d had to remain silent or misunderstood for over two hours, the removing of the gag brought some very different reaction. His three friends had patiently waited and had not made a fuss, but, wouldn’t you know it, Lewis did let his anger come out noisily.
“You, bunch of barmy wallies! You’re getting your revenge in advance for the punishment you’ll receimmmmph!”
“Lewis, my friend,” Billy said as he crammed the wadding back into Lewis’ mouth, nodding to Ben to get on with the tape, “your reasoning is flawed. We’ve been able to give you some payback all the time. But since you won’t learn your lesson…”
“No lunch for you.” Fred sombrely concluded.
It was already quite late. They had time for one last game only. It was Ben’s idea. He grabbed a length of rope, and faced the four tied up boys, who were starting to feel a bit sore from standing with their arms stretched above them. He tied a big knot at the end of the 5-foot long length of cord. He crouched down and started swinging the rope from left to right and back. The knotted bit passed close to the prisoners’ feet.
“OK, first one to get hit by the rope gets a ball tie!” Ben chirped.
Fred and Billy watched this interesting after-meal exercise with interest. Ben was a fair rope-swinger, as he kept the pace even and made sure the rope stayed close to the floor. It made the jumping to avoid it an even better show, since the prisoners got into the groove and managed fairly well to avoid the cotton snake trying to bite their legs.
“How much do you bet Lewis’s going to lose again?” Billy asked Fred.
Coincidence or not, this comment almost coincided with Philip not able to get away from the rope’s path. He got the final ball tie on a blanket spread over the tiles at his friends’ feet, and a short tickling session followed, before everybody was eventually released.
A discussion on the dishonesty of Billy’s team was loudly carried out as the boys all got busy collecting their stuff and tidying the place they’d been gracefully lent. They wondered if they would have another game in the evening once they’d be back to Saint Sebastian, but they eventually decided against it, since the weekend had been knotty enough.
They thanked Ben’s grandparents wholeheartedly; they greeted Billy’s and Philip’s fathers before they got into the two cars that were to take them back to their beloved House. After a few minutes, four of the seven boys actually dozed off, and they didn’t party all night long once they were back to the dorm.
It had been a fun weekend.
“Good night, lads,” Lewis said before they retired to their private quarters, “it’s been fun, and I’d bet there are more fun times like this ahead. Thanks to Matt for new ideas. I hope we have more new members to our club to have even better games.”
They all hoped this wish would come true. And little did they know that it would…
TBC
