Recruiter POW Training

by Jake R

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© Copyright 2013 - Jake R - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/m; bond; strip; rope; office; gag; hogtie; tease; cons; X

Several years ago I became acquainted with a military guy who had moved into the area where I live.  He was to be here for about four years working with the recruiting unit of the ROTC program at a nearby university.  For whatever reason, at least back then, the military did not keep them in any area for long periods of time--just why, I am not sure and he never told me.
Drake was his name, and he was a typical soldier--slightly older than most at the ripe old age of thirty-five.  He had blond hair cut in a short buzz style, a typical military build, but with a boyish face that looked younger than his years.  He was very outgoing and friendly, part of his recruiting responsibilities, no doubt.  I do not remember the circumstances of our meeting, but we became good friends.  He was not aware of my interest in bondage with other guys and the enjoyment that I have when I am able to tie another guy up and take control of him.  From the day we met, I had zeroed in on Drake and hoped that sometime I could make him my captive without destroying our friendship.
I volunteered to run an errand one day for the office where I work, and decided to take an extended lunch to ensure that I had time.  I was waiting for a job to be completed at the printing shop, and found myself near the building where Drake hung his work hat.  I knew that Drake usually spent his lunch break at his desk, and just stopped in for a quick visit.  
As usual, I found Drake sitting at his desk in his causal, short-sleeved military dress shirt, which even included a black tie, and even during my social visit he was sitting almost at attention with his back straight, but not touching the back of his chair.  I lounged in the comfortable chair in front of  his desk, and in the course of our conversation, asked him a few things about his military training and background.  I asked him what sort of classes the students he recruited would be taking and things they would learn.  He was in a talking mood, and welcomed my interest in what he did. 
At one point I asked Drake if the students received instruction on what to do if they were taken captive and had to endure a period of time as a prisoner of war.  He told me that very little was discussed about that in the classes offered, but he had received some instruction in that, mainly so he could address a question with a correct answer. 

"Did you receive any actual training or experience in that," I asked and he shook his head, no.  "Probably for the best!" I responded, "If you were captured, and tied up in some really tight position, I doubt that you could endure it for long.  You would probably spill everything you know in a very short time. I doubt your tolerance level would be very high."
Drake laughed, "I'm pretty sure I could handle anything that would be dished out to me as a POW."
I shook my head and looked at the floor.  "I think I could tie you up in such a way that no torture would even be necessary.  You would tell anyone anything easily enough just by being tied up."
I looked up to see Drake staring intently at me, a slight smile on his face.  "Wait a minute.  You think you could tie me up in some terrible way that would make me desperate enough to say anything.  I would like to see that," was Drake's response.
I shrugged my shoulders and gave him a slight smile.  Then I pretended to find something outside of his window that drew my attention.  I looked back at Drake as he slowly rose from his chair with a big smile on his face, excused himself, and walked into the front office after promising me that he would be right back.  He had left his door open, and I heard him tell his assistant (a young lady in army dress clothes also) that today had been slow--boring actually--and to go ahead and leave for lunch now, and there was no need to hurry back.  He reminded her to display the "closed for lunch" sign, then I heard his footsteps disappear down a hallway.  I heard the door close as his assistant left for lunch, then heard Drake's footsteps returning. 

He came into his office carrying a duffle bag which he emptied onto his desk, then looked at me for my response.  Laying on his desk were ropes or various sizes, pulleys, and a few other items that I could not identify.  "These are used for lashing poles and knotting ropes together to make them longer in order to create rope bridges to span or rope ladders to climb.  Think you could use them to tie me up and make me squeal?  Those are about the only things that might be available to tie a captured POW," Drake said.

I had been trying all along to dangle a carrot--so to speak--but did not really think that Drake would take me up on it.  This must have definitely been a boring day--just as he had told his assistant!  But I still wanted to show some reluctance, and not display my eagerness.  The mere thought of tying Drake up did get me excited, and I had to shift in my seat and adjust the front of my trousers discreetly to keep it hidden.

"Are you giving me a challenge to tie you up?" I asked.

"What else?" he said with a smile, and a look that was like a parent glaring at an overconfident, bragging child.

I touched the ropes, and then pulled my hand away quickly and rubbed my chin.  I looked at him with a more humble expression, which seemed to give him even more confidence.  He moved to one side of my chair, put his hands on his hips in a more confident pose, and looked down at me.   "Can I tie you any way I please?" I asked in a low voice, and he nodded.  I decided to stall just a bit longer, as if in doubt.

"I don't know.  I don't......want to......wrinkle your clothes," I said hesitantly. 

Drake paused for a moment, then gave a big smile.  He shut his office door, locked it, and drew the blinds shut at his office window.  He pulled his black tie off and began to unbutton his dress shirt.  He removed it and hung it on a hanger which he took off a large hook on the back of his door.  He untied his black shoes that were so shiny they would make anyone squint if looked at in direct sunlight, took them off and put them under his desk.  He then removed his dark trousers with a satiny strip down the side of each leg, and hung them carefully on the back of his desk chair.  He resumed his hands-on-hips, confident pose as he stood in front of me clad only in his dark socks, white boxer shorts, and white t-shirt.

I looked at the pile of ropes once again, then stammered, "Do you have a .......handkerchief?  I may need ......some cloth or something......  Maybe I could.......use ......your t-shirt."  He quickly pulled it over his head and tossed it close to the pile of ropes.

I squirmed in my seat once again when I saw Drake's chest.  Mind you, I prefer to look at women, but some men do merit a second look--if nothing more than from admiration....or jealousy.  He was evenly tanned, and a respectable amount of chest hair spanned his upper torso from neck to just below his pecs.  His military training showed in his muscular build and narrow waist with a definte six-pack.

I told Drake to turn with his back to me and place his hands behind him.  He turned in a half circle--military style.  He stared straight ahead as I selected a piece of rope about three feet long, and tied his wrists behind him--not too tight (I wanted him to keep that confident feeling for a while longer).  I had him step to the middle of his office where there was more space, then told him to kneel down.  I then assisted him into a facedown position laying on the floor.

"You are my prisoner, and at my mercy," I briskly said to him, "You will not laugh at how I tie you up, or protest at anything that I do."  Drake smiled slightly, but still stared straight ahead.  I wondered if he was enjoying this or just playing out his part in a dare quite well. 

It was now or never.  I liked Drake, but now I really wanted to make him more uncomfortable, and start to topple this over-confidence.  But more than that:  I just wanted to see Drake tied up and helpless and vulnerable. 

I stuck my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and with one quick movement pulled them down to his ankles.  He looked back at me with a surprised look, and his smile quickly disappeared.  He opened his mouth as if to protest.  I held my finger up, and gave him a hard look (but with a slight smile).  "You will not protest at anything I do!"  I repeated.  He closed his mouth and looked straight ahead once more, probably wondering what I was conjuring in my mind and where this was going--but submitting to a "wait and see" frame of mind.

I pulled his boxers off as well as his socks.  His head was raised up and not laying on the floor, and I saw that his face had turned a slightly darker shade of red--not in anger, but more in embarrassment at being completely naked.

I tied his knees together, then looped coils of rope around his ankles.  With another rope, I cinched the ropes circling his ankles, then pulled them up and hogtied them to his wrists, leaving about two feet of slack in the hogtie rope.  I wrapped the rope between his wrists, cinching the ropes on his wrists and pulling them closer, making them tighter.  He would never get his hands free now  and I felt that I had him secure.

He began to test the ropes, stretching his arms as he tried to pull his bound feet away from his hands, probably trying to determine how much slack he had in the hogtie rope.  Soon he relaxed and tried to pull his hands upward slightly toward his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the ropes on his wrists.  I took another rope, and told him to try to pull his feet down once again.  He did so, and as his arms stretched out behind him, I quickly wrapped the rope around his arms at the elbows, pulling them closer together before tightening the rope and pulling his elbows closer together.  He realized too late what I was doing as I wrapped the rope several times around his elbows and pulled them to with an inch or two of each other before knotting them off and cinching the ropes. 

His shoulders were uncomfortabley pulled back, and he could not help but let a moan escape from his lips, followed by a quick "Owww!!" 

"Do I hear a squeal?" I said with a smile, causing Drake to press his lips together and close his eyes. There was still a long length remaining on the rope that was cinching his elbows closely together.  I took that remaining length down and passed it through the ropes binding his ankles, then took it back up and wound it around the ropes circling his elbows.  I pulled on the rope until his knees were slightly off the floor in an extremely tight hogtie position, then knotted it to the elbow ropes.

Drake rocked slightly back and forth, putting his knees on the floor with his shoulders slightly raised, then putting his shoulders and chest on the floor with his knees slightly raised.   His ankles were actually pulled a little higher up his back than his bound wrists, so I took another rope and wrapped it around his wrists, then pulled them up off his naked butt cheeks to secure them to his lower legs just above his ankles.  He was in an uncomfortably stringent hogtie, and I was caught up in total enjoyment.

I told Drake to try to free himself, which he did.  He did not thrash around much trying to loosen the ropes, just rolled slowly and methodically from side to side as though he had a plan.  His fingers searched for any knots, but could not find them.   He was on his left side, then on his stomach, then on his right side, then back on his stomach.  He was tied to tightly into a ball to make any attempt to roll onto his back, and his shoulders were pulled back in a strenuous way because of the tightness of the ropes that were pulling his elbows together--I thought he would split down the middle.  But he would not give up! 

He finally came to rest on his stomach and stayed there.  I am sure it was because he was hard--very hard, and the carpet below him was beginning to show some wet spots that I think he was trying to hide.  He had moaned and grunted a few times, and even swore under his breath a couple of times as well, but never once raised his voice or asked to be untied.  At intervals he would struggle, but in a half-hearted way.  His body was moist, but Drake was not struggling enough to sweat profusely.  Maybe he was trying not to sweat a lot, and so his struggles were held to a minimum. 

I sat in a chair and watched Drake's calculated attempts to get free from the ropes.  After about thirty minutes, I felt that I needed to complete my errand--pick up the print job and return to work.  I wanted so badly to let this spectacle continue for as long as possible.  But duty called.  I took the t-shirt off Drake's desk, and rolled it into a strip as long as I could, then knelt beside him.  I pulled the t-shirt around Drake's mouth--it covered the entire lower half of his boyish face.  He looked up at me and his eyes registered surprise as I pulled shirt harder against his face and then tied a knot behind his head. 

"Drake," I said, "it has been fun having you as my "prisoner of war".  But I really have to return to work.  I am going to have to leave you here like this because time has slipped away too fast, and I was sure you would be able to free yourself by now or admit defeat and ask to be untied.  But I'm confident you will be successful getting yourself free, or more likely you will be discovered by your assistant when she returns, and she can untie you.  Just in case, I will leave your door unlocked and slightly ajar when I let myself out."  I slapped his cheek lightly, and started to get to my feet.

His eyes went from surprise to what I can only describve as sheer terror.  I'm sure that the thought of being found (by a female assistant) like this--naked and hogtied into a tight ball--was definitely not what he had planned for in making a dare.  He shook his head from side to side, and tried to scream into the shirt-gag.  "Sorry, Drake, I can't understand you!" I said as I stood and moved toward his office door.  He began to roll and thrash wildly, but was still not making any progress.  It was as though he was trying to show me his helplessness and desperate need for assistance.

I walked to the door, unlocked it, and started to turn the knob as he continued to roll and shout into the gag.  I stopped and looked back.  He came to a stop laying on his side facing me, and I noticed the pleading look in his eyes.  Okay, the joke was over.  I left the door closed, locked it again, and walked back to him. 

"Drake, I am so sorry to be such a jerk," I said.  "But I couldn't resist.  I will untie you in just a minute."  He calmed down and breathed a sigh of relief, then closed his eyes.  "First though, I need to interrogate you just a little bit."  I ran my hand through the blond buzz-cut hair on his head, and then ran my hand through the light brown patch of fur on his pecs (now damp with sweat from his determined struggles just a short time ago).  I tweaked one of his light brown nipples, then stroked his hairy chest again as I slid my hand across to tweak the other nipple.  I closed my fist around a clump of chest hair in the middle of his pecs and tugged.  His eyes shot open, then squinted to reflect the sudden pain.  That was too fun!!  I repeated it a second time, and then a third, enjoying his short gasps each time. 

I noticed when Drake had rolled onto his side that his cock was large, but it's size increased even more as I mildly tortured his furry torso.  As I said before, some guys merit a second look for whatever reason--even if the viewer is not gay.  I could not help but notice that Drake's excitement reflected in the area of his genitals seemed directly connected to his chest and nipples.  As I sat beside him, I pushed his hard cock down toward the floor with my finger, then let it go.  It sprang into action, bobbing up and down until it came to a halt.  I did it again, rubbing my finger up the side of the shaft until it would reach the end and I would release it.  It would bob up and down again, then stop.  I repeated this a third and fourth time.......and a few more--I sort of lost count.  The tip of it began to leak somewhat, and I stopped completely.  Drake had been holding his breath off and on as I repeated this action, and when I stopped, he sighed heavily into the gag. 

I untied Drake then and sat beside him as we both tried to masssage the rope marks away.  His ankles would be covered by his socks and his knees covered by his dress pants, so I rubbed Drake's elbows (I had forgotten that his shirt was short sleeved) while he rubbed his hands and wrists.  I good naturedly slapped him on the back, then reached to grab his chest hair once again.  He pushed my hand away, but smiled in the process.

He stood, and put his clothes back on--all except for the t-shirt.  That he used to rub his chest and arms, wiping the sweat from his upper body before he put his shirt and tie back on. He then threw the damp t-shirt into an empty lower drawer of his file cabinet.  As he was tightening his tie, we heard the front door open, and his assistant return to her desk.

When I left, Drake was still his erect, military self--the picture of a precise, regimented recruiter, but maybe a little more humbled.  And I was so glad to know that he was still my friend.  But from that time on, until he moved away to a new location, wheneverI saw him, I could still see him in a naked, hogtied ball rolling from side to side.

And I always wished that I could have taken the time to interrogate him longer!   


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