Rémy’s Scheme - Installment 1

Hey people! I'm glad to present the first installment out of 15 in this story I wrote last fall. More like Fun with Danny and the Sweaty Tie-up stories. I hope it's a fun read.

Rémy’s ‘Birthday Present’– February 9, 2018

1. Ensnared!

The steps on the gravel outside precede the key rattling in the lock. Guillaume didn’t think his abductor would be back so soon. Tightly strapped to his wheelchair, in the dark, he looks at the door, expecting his antagonist’s entry.

Earlier in the evening, Guillaume set to find evidence of illegal operations at a nearby house. Night falls early in February: darkness would make the boy detective’s fact-finding mission less risky. Dressed for the almost freezing temperatures, he went on his mission, a backpack filled with equipment on his shoulders.

He got caught looking for clues in his target’s garden; he was taking phone pictures of a freshly returned flower bed—a sure sign something was afoot— when a bright outdoors light went on ten feet from his face. He hadn’t suspected the brick building featured a floodlight.

“Don’t move!” a voice hissed behind him. Guillaume turned to see the barrel of a gun and Maxime, his index finger to his lips intimating silence. His free hand held the handle of a wheelchair. Maxime pointed to the seat and to the snoop’s backpack; Guillaume complied: he put it down on the lawn and sat on the chair as far back as he could.

One by one, the wide and long straps fixed to the chair encircled his limbs, above and below all the joints. Guillaume wore many layers of clothing: a puffer jacket filled with eiderdown, a woollen sweater, and two t-shirts underneath.

His attacker picked up the backpack, rummaged in it, and drew a couple handkerchiefs out.

“I can’t have you warn anyone. Open up,” the kidnapper hissed.

Guillaume opened his mouth—wider when asked—and the ball of thin fabric filled his gob to the brim. His own necktie cleave-gagged him. Guillaume pictured the bag’s content, shivering at how it could inspire his abductor.

The young man found scarves and applied four of them across the snoop’s mouth, locking his jaws around the invasive silk ball. Maxime pinned Guillaume’s skull to the wheelchair’s headrest with straps. Further, his forearms, wrists, feet, ankles, and thighs were welded to the chair.

“You look obedient, but I can’t take risks. I’ll store you away.”

His attacker pushed him inside the warm garden shed. A coal stove was humming in the corner.

“You’ve forced us to change our plans. I’ll have you wait here while I handle the mess you’ve made. When I’m back, you’ll pay,” Maxime said, putting the brakes on the wheelchair.

He went out, switching the light off and locking the door. Guillaume tried to find a flaw in his restraints. There weren’t any. His forearms had leeway because of all his clothing, but not enough to pull away. He was condemned to helplessness. Guillaume could only picture the possible ordeals at the hands of the fiend who’d kidnapped him.

He now pricks up his ears when he hears noise outside. He tries to call out, in case help is within earshot. The muffling gag chokes his attempts to make himself heard.

The door opens and a hand switches the light on. Guillaume is blinded but knows at once it isn’t the same boy who had abducted him tens of times. This isn’t Maxime’s silhouette. He is one foot taller, for starters. The intruder is dressed in black from head to toe.

He locks the door behind him and steps in front of the wheelchair. The newcomer wears a puffer jacket that conceals his torso. His tracksuit pants are dark and so is the balaclava or hood that covers his head save for his eyes.

“Hrmmmmrgrmmmm?”

The boy leans towards him, but not to remove the gag. He unpins an envelope from Guillaume’s parka and raises it. He didn’t notice Maxime pinning it there before leaving: Guillaume’s older friend is into magic tricks these days.

Leather-gloved fingers retrieve sheets of paper from the envelope and unfold them. The voice gives away the burglar’s age, though Guillaume still ponders about his identity.

“You’ve found Guillaume. I hope you like how he’s wrapped. He’s your birthday gift. Treat him well, don’t let him escape, and keep him muzzled at all times. He’s really annoying. Don’t worry, Guillaume is used to staying bound and gagged for a long time. I’m sure he’s willing to set a record. The rest of this message is an assignment where he had to say what sort of tie-up situations he enjoys.”

The voice is high-pitched, youthful, and authoritative.

“Let’s see your essay, then …”

Guillaume sees his new captor’s eyes locked with his. He knows this look from somewhere, and he starts processing faces from school and the choir inside his head.

“My name is Guillaume; I’ve liked tie-up stories since I was nine, so five years ago at least. My favourite plots are boys my age being kidnapped. I always want to be the prisoner when I read these stories.”

The writer remembers the assignment Maxime gave him a long time ago.

“I like stories with burglars coming inside houses, thinking they’re empty, and then they find boys who are having a sleepover while the parents are gone, so the burglars have to neutralize the boys. They get tied up and gagged, of course.

I really enjoy when the burglars decide to take the boys away because they didn’t manage to crack the safe and they can’t leave empty-handed.

I love stories with boy-detectives who find money counterfeiters or smugglers who have to keep the boys incommunicado to run their devious schemes without the snoops calling the police. They have remote lairs, cabins in the woods, or large warehouses where they keep the meddlers.

It’s better if the villains are creative and get their prisoners to try lots of different tie-ups. If they use ropes, chains, straps, scarves, cuffs, and other restraints, it’s more interesting.

I’m thrilled when help comes the way of the poor gagged victims and they can’t get heard. A good villain finds ways to silence his prisoners, and like with the tie-ups, he experiments with gags. It’s nice if they use socks or hankies with tape or scarves, but I really like when the villains have lots of muzzles, plug gags, and hoods.

I really wish I could be kept bound and gagged for days, if someone feels like helping me to experiment.”

The intruder’s eyes lock with Guillaume’s again. The bound boy melts in his chair. The young man in black is Maxime’s cousin, Rémy! He recognizes the eyes and long eyelashes.

“Mrrmgrmmbblllmm!”

Rémy is one or two years younger than Guillaume, who has him among the cute boys at school. The tie-up enthusiast is keen on many handsome lads. Rémy’s eyes and pouty mouth won Guillaume from the get-go when he joined the school two years ago.

They haven’t socialized much; Guillaume never dared tell Maxime he had the hots for his younger cousin. He doesn’t get many chances to speak when hanging out with his friend anyway, and his younger relative isn’t showing any interest in hearing from him either.

“I’ll take the gift home to play with, then,” the masked intruder says, casting a hungry look at his prey. Rémy gets busy. He gathers all he needs and sets to transport his game.

Forty-seven minutes later, Rémy pushes the wheelchair into a warmed-up space. Guillaume is blinded by cheap sunglasses with black paper taped to the lens. Blankets conceal his strapped body, an extra angora scarf conceals the strap gagging him severely, and a big woollen cap tops the disguise.

The ride goes unhindered. They meet no one during the ten-minute walk through back alleys and residential streets. Rémy leans over his passenger throughout the journey to threaten or foretell.

“I’m going to unwrap my gift, but I’ll turn it into an even tighter package.”

Guillaume feels moved by the gleeful tone and the taste for knots; Rémy sounds like he is having a good time, and the wheelchaired captive is proud to please the Adonis.

The blackened lenses leave his eyes; he blinks, taking in his surroundings. Rémy brought him inside a large kitchen, which feels warm after the walk outside. The clock on the wall reads twenty-three past eight, matching Guillaume’s time perception.

Rémy removes his jacket and his balaclava, delivering a wide smile at his captive. He wears a tracksuit jacket underneath hugging him tight. He peels off the blankets from his prey and grabs the bag he put on Guillaume’s lap for the journey.

“Let me see what the boy-detective carries for his investigation,” Rémy grins, unzipping the bag on the large wooden kitchen table. He takes out three pairs of shorts, a swimming cap, and an inflatable butterfly gag. He casts a knowing smile with every item he exposes. Guillaume blushes.

“The meddler comes equipped,” he comments, piling up three rolls of duct tape and five rolls of electrical tape next to the three long coils of white cotton rope. “This will come in handy just now,” he concludes, laying a pair of handcuffs on the table.

“I’ll undress you. You must be hot.”

“Mmph,” Guillaume replies shyly.

All putty in Rémy’s hands, Guillaume has his many layers of clothing shucked off. The handcuffs keep his arms and legs restrained throughout the procedure. Guillaume obeys, the nimble hands telling him what to do next. He ends up standing naked on the tiled floor save for the silk scarves still gagging him and the manacles pinning his hands at the small of his back.

His keeper comes close. Guillaume feels his gaze running over his black, thin, plentiful hair, his big brown eyes, his bushy eyebrows, his round cheeks squeezed by the layers of silk, and his thin frame. Rémy moves, looks at Guillaume’s flat tummy and turns around him. He casts an appreciative ‘Nice bum.’ He crouches and focuses on the hairless genitals.

“A late bloomer, hey?” Rémy taunts, flicking the semierect dick with his middle finger. Guillaume has been able to spurt semen for over a year now, but Maxime has taken to shaving his pubes and his scrotum since Christmas, which confuses the newcomer. The member snaps to life, causing Rémy to stand and step back.

“We’ll make you decent, prisoner.”

Rémy looks at the clothes he set on the table. A black pair catches his eye. He picks the vinyl shorts. They gleam; Guillaume polished them as instructed. Maxime got them for him online last month.

The captor kneels and offers the shorts’ right leg; Guillaume sets his foot in the hole, then he lifts his other foot, and the slick vinyl slides up his hairless legs. Rémy has to fiddle with the growing cock to get it inside the shorts at the end. Guillaume is red as a beet behind his silk mask. When Maxime put them on, he had a cock cage on.

The vinyl stretches, and the ten fingers get Guillaume’s genitals encased in the front pouch. Rémy watches from all angles.

“Raise your hands so that I see your butt.”

Guillaume puts his ass on display for his new abductor. A smack resounds in the kitchen.

“Hmmmrgrmph?!”

“I couldn’t help it. Your bum is made for spanking.”

Guillaume feels a twitch in the front of his shorts.

“It makes you decent. Don’t you like it better?” he asks, picking his phone from his pocket and launching the app to film his catch.

“That’s a good shot,” he coldly announces after two minutes filming Guillaume from all sides. “Let’s get upstairs to store you away.”

TBC