Date: Sat, 11 Mar 2000 13:25:52 -0800 (PST)
From: David Brown <tugger049@yahoo.com>
Subject: Among Friends

The usual caveats: if you are under eighteen, please come back when you can
legally read this sort of thing. If you don't find ropes and gags
enhancements to lovemaking, you are unlikely to enjoy this; if you do, then
you well may.

Please do not post this tale to any other site without permission, and
please do not post it as your own work. These stories take labor to
produce, unlikely as it may seem, and I enjoy receiving the credit. Alan
Katz, this means you!



AMONG FRIENDS

	"I beg your pardon?" The baronet looked a bit hazily at his host
and friend. "I'm very sorry, I didn't quite catch?"
	"No matter," the other man said with a genial smile. "I was just
remarking on your handkerchief."
	"My hand ..kerchief?" The baronet spoke with a gradually increasing
slur. His eyes felt unaccountably heavy, and he looked over at his friend
with a vaguely puzzled air. He glanced down at the large silk handkerchief
that lolled from the chest pocket of his dress coat in an ample puff. "My
hand ...?" His voice faded off, and he slumped down in his easy chair. His
host, leaping up quickly, caught the glass of whiskey from the other man's
hand before it could fall and placed it on a side table.
	"Yes, Sir Andrew," he said softly, with a slow smile, "your
handkerchief. I was just remarking how handsome it was, and how handsome
you are, and what a fop you are."
	Sir Andrew lifted his head with difficulty and stared up at his
host. His handsome, bearded features wore an expression that mingled
puzzlement, an attempt at a smile, and a vague alarm. Then his eyelids
closed and he slipped completely into unconsciousness. It was some while
before he woke.  SIR ANDREW SLOWLY began to wonder why he felt so
strange. His head ached a bit, but it wasn't that. He felt, he did not know
what, sluggish, but more than sluggish. As if he were so heavy that he
could not move. He could not move, he realized suddenly, or not very
much. He lifted his head slightly, his eyes still closed. He felt that he
was sitting upright, and yet he felt constricted, pressed close by ... by
what? He tried to take a deep breath, but that too was hard, he seemed to
feel almost half-smothered. Well, not smothered exactly, he could breathe
well enough it seemed but ... but what? He tried to formulate a clear
thought, to put into words the vague sensations he felt.
	Where was he, anyway? The last thing he could remember was having a
drink with Reginald Gregory in his friend's study. And now? Now he was
... what? He opened his eyes and made as if to put his hand to his
head. But his hand would not move, his arm would not move, he made the
effort, he felt his muscles respond, and yet ... was he tied? He jerked
further awake, the foolish thought--it was foolish, wasn't it? why would he
be tied?--startling him. But ... he pulled once more at his arm, at both
arms and ... he was tied! He pulled harder, and with no result. He
swallowed, feeling how hard it was to do so, and realized his mouth was
full of something he could not immediately identify or understand.  And
then suddenly, he did understand, despite the absurdity of it, and despite
his inability to account for why or how it could be. He was tied, and he
was gagged, too! He was bound up very well, and securely and thoroughly
gagged. He strained at his bonds, exploring them, coming to understand them
and his position even as he did so.
	He was bound with rope into a heavy oaken chair, a chair with
arms. Tight coils of rope lashed his broad chest to the back of the chair,
and equally tight coils bound his waist to it as well. Tight rope fastened
his arms to the arms of the chair, at the elbows and at the wrists. More
rope secured his legs to the legs of the chair on either side. All the
ropes were skillfully arranged and pulled and knotted off very tightly. He
could barely move in their tight embrace, and he was held firmly into the
heavy piece of furniture, so heavy that when he tried to jerk it from side
to side in his futile struggles, he shifted it not an inch.
	He was gagged with brutal effectiveness. A big wad of some soft
cloth--a handkerchief? or perhaps two, given the size of the wad?--filled
his mouth and spread his jaws. What felt to be another handkerchief, folded
narrow and drawn back with pitiless severity through his jaws, bound the
gag into his mouth. A very large silk handkerchief was folded wide and
bound over his mouth. The thick bandage of slick-feeling silk was fitted
carefully between his nose and his chin, the wide wings brought back over
his bearded cheeks and drawn into a knot that was cruelly tight and pressed
painfully into the back of his neck. He strove to call out, but all the
noise he could make through the gag was a much-muffled grunt.
	He was still in the study. The same fire still burned--rather lower
now--on the hearth. But he was alone. Or he had been until this moment. The
door opened, and his friend entered. He paused for a moment at the
threshold, and then shut the door behind him. Smiling at his helpless
guest, he crossed the room and stood looking down at the other man.
	"Mmmmm. Gmmmmph. Hugulmmmmph!"
	Sir Andrew struggled with the brutal gag. It took only a moment for
him to realize, however, that Gregory was not there to rescue him.  Gregory
smiled still at his friend, who was now also his captive. With one finger,
he reached out and just touched the big handkerchief of paisley silk Sir
Andrew wore puffed so ostentatiously from the chest pocket of his dinner
jacket.
	"As I was saying, Sir Andrew, when you dropped so conveniently to
sleep a while ago--that little addition to the whiskey usually does the
trick, I find--as I was saying, you really do wear such fascinatingly
foppish handkerchieves in your pocket, and this evening your handkerchief
was more of a fop's puff than ever. How could I resist, my friend?"
	"Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmmm!!" Sir Andrew strained at his ropes and fought
his gag. He felt his sex stiffening in his trousers as he realized how
helpless he was. It was a secret he very rarely confessed, but being bound
and gagged by another man had always excited him immensely. Being bound and
gagged this way by Gregory, a man he regarded as a friend, excited him and
frightened him in complicated ways he found difficult to explain even to
himself. With troubled and yet avid eyes, he watched Gregory reach up,
almost absent-mindedly, to toy with the white silk handkerchief puffed in
the chest pocket of his own dinner jacket.
	At that moment, there was a soft knock at the door.
	Sir Andrew grunted into his gag. Gregory, however, merely smiled at
the helplessly bound and muzzled man and crossed the room.
	"Who is it?"
	"It's me, sir, Riley." Riley, Sir Andrew remembered, was the name
of his friend's chauffeur.
	With a glance at Sir Andrew, Gregory opened the door, and Riley
stepped inside, his cap in his hand. He was a tall fellow, strongly and
broadly built, about forty, with a bald head, what hair he still had gone
quite gray, and a thick mustache. He was dressed in his uniform, of course,
tall black boots, black trousers and high collared coat, and black leather
gloves. A large handkerchief of white silk was arranged in an ostentatious
puff in the chest pocket of his coat.
	"Evening", sir," the man said to his employer.
	Gregory nodded. "Good evening, Riley. Let's get to work, shall we?
I want my friend, Sir Andrew, here out with you in good time."
	"Yes, sir."
	The two men came to where Sir Andrew sat helpless. Riley glanced at
his employer. "You've the supplies, I reckon, sir?"
	"Oh, yes. In the chest over there."
	Riley looked where the other man gestured and quickly crossed the
room. Setting his cap on a chair nearby, he opened the top of the chest and
drew out a couple of hanks of thin rope. With a grin, he returned.
	"Now, Sir Andrew," Gregory was saying, "we're going to make you
ready for a little trip you'll be taking." With a nod to the chauffeur, he
and Riley set to work.
	Gregory freed the ropes that bound his friend to the back of the
chair he sat in. Sir Andrew now realized that his arms were bound close to
his sides by a separate rope that had not needed to be untied to release
him. In the meantime, Riley took a length of rope from one of the hanks he
had retrieved and stood ready. Gregory freed Sir Andrew's left elbow and
then his left wrist, and then held the man's hand away from the arm of the
chair. Sir Andrew struggled to get his hand loose, but he found that his
sexual excitement at being bound and gagged, embarrassing as it was and
unwelcome at this time, made his efforts less than hardy, and the other man
was surprisingly strong.  Riley looped his rope around the man's wrist thus
displayed and knotted it off. In the meantime, Gregory had freed their
captive's right elbow, and then the two men forced the other man to lean
forward in the chair, crushing his chest down to his thighs. Riley twisted
Sir Andrew's left arm behind his back.
	"Free his other hand now, sir, if you will," Riley said.
	Gregory did so, and together they forced Sir Andrew's right arm
behind him, and Riley lashed his wrists together tightly. The man was now
bound once more, his upper arms lashed closely to his sides, his hands
bound securely behind his back.
	All through this operation, Sir Andrew had grunted protests into
his gag, but all the noises he could make through the wad of handkerchieves
stuffing his mouth were feeble and muffled groans.
	Gregory and his man now first freed their prisoner's left leg from
the ropes that held it tight to the leg of the chair, and then proceeded to
bring his left leg close alongside his right and to bind the two
together. They then freed his right leg from the rope that lashed it to the
chair and they had their prisoner still tightly and helplessly bound but
free from his seat. The two hauled him to his feet. Sir Andrew swayed
unsteadily on his close-bound heels, held in the two men's grip. They
dragged him over to the big leather-covered sofa and lowered him onto
it. With a quick motion, Riley pulled the bound man's feet up and behind
him and tied them to his bound hands, putting the fellow into a tight
hog-tie.
	"Mmmmmph! Mugulmmmmph!" Sir Andrew grunted helplessly into his gag.
	Gregory had in the meantime taken his friend and prisoner's former
seat. After giving a final check to Sir Andrew's bonds, Riley returned to
his employer and stood above him.
	With a glint in his eye, Gregory looked up at the big man.
	"Well, Riley, do your worst."
	Riley grinned down at the other man. "That I will, sir."
	As the astounded Sir Andrew watched, lying bound, gagged, and
helpless on the sofa a few feet off, Riley proceeded to bind his employer
into the heavy chair just as Sir Andrew had been bound. He used many coils
of rope to lash Gregory's chest and waist to the chair's hard back, pulling
the rope taut and knotting it off tightly. He bound each of the man's arms
to the chair's arms, lashing his elbows and his wrists to the hard wood and
knotting the bindings off with uncompromising severity. Kneeling down in
front of his employer, he finished off by binding the man's legs to the
chair legs just as Sir Andrew's had been bound. In every instance, he
showed no mercy but pulled the ropes tight and knotted them hard. He stood
up then, and looked down at the other man.
	Gregory tested his ropes, pulling at the bindings, breathing
heavily. He nodded.
	"Good." He smiled at his servant. "I can hardly move and I'll not
be able to wriggle free. Wallis will find me in the morning just as I've
planned. Now, gag me. And do a good job of it."
	Riley grinned. "Yes, sir. My favorite part, sir."
	The big man reached into his back pocket and took out an enormous
wad of cloth, red spotted white. Sir Andrew, watching in astonishment,
realized it must be made up of two, if not three of the fellow's big
bandanna handkerchieves. As the gagged and hog-tied man watched, a
thoroughly mystified, utterly helpless, and also thoroughly aroused
witness, the chauffeur proceeded to stuff the huge gag into his employer's
mouth, shoving it in deep and forcing the whole wad between his jaws.
	"Uugummmmph!!" Gregory grunted as the great ball of cloth was
thrust into his mouth. Riley smiled at him, reaching inside his coat to
retrieve a big handkerchief of black silk, which he opened and then folded
diagonally into a thick and wide bandage. Bending over his employer from
behind, he bound the silk handkerchief over the man's solidly stuffed
mouth, fitting the band of silk carefully under the man's nose, over his
thick mustache, and over his lips down to his strong chin. He wrapped the
long ends over the man's cheeks and pulled them into a knot at the base of
the fellow's skull, drawing the knot mercilessly tight.
	"There, sir," he said, and patted the man's silk swathed
cheek. "That's a good job of it, isn't, sir?"
	"Mmmmmmm. Hmmmmmph. Gmmmmmm." Gregory struggled with the brutal
gag, striving to shout. All that made it past the thick wad and the tight
binding were a few faint grunts. He nodded then at Riley.
	"All right, sir," the man said, "we'll be on our way." With a grin
for his employer, he crossed to where Sir Andrew lay helpless. He untied
the tether holding the man's feet to his hands and then swung the bound man
into a sitting position. Before Sir Andrew quite knew what he was about,
the other man had thrust his shoulder into his belly and hefted him up onto
his shoulder in a fireman's carry.
	"Mmmmmmmpht! Gugummmmmpht!" Sir Andrew grunted a protest, but his
gag silenced him effectively.
	Riley took up his cap from the chair where he had left it and
turned to his employer.
	"Till tomorrow then, sir," he said.
	Gregory nodded silently.
	The chauffeur, seeming to find no trouble in handling his bound and
gagged burden, crossed to the door, listened a moment, and then slipped
outside, shutting the door behind him.
	Gregory sat in his chair. It was late now, and Wallis, his
manservant, he had sent to bed more than an hour earlier. He would not be
found, he knew, until the morning, when the servant would come looking for
him, puzzled at not finding him in his chamber. Gregory smiled to himself,
anticipating the look on the old fellow's face when he found him like this,
trussed up and gagged. For the pleasure of it, he strained at his bonds and
then tried to call out through his gag.
	"Mmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmph."
	Riley knew his work. Gregory settled back into the chair. His only
immediate regret was that he could not get at his stiff and aching
cock. But a night spent with his sex at full mast, bound and gagged into
complete helplessness, such a night had its own pleasures. He could wait.
	TO SIR ANDREW, THE DRIVE had seemed long and the automobile
cold. He shifted on the firm leather seat and tried once more,
unsuccessfully, to ease the tightness of his bonds. It had been perhaps a
quarter of an hour since Riley, his friend's--and now captor's--chauffeur
had carried him out of the house.
	Sir Andrew remembered that short journey over the other man's
shoulder with astonishment. The tall, strongly built fellow had kept him
hoisted in position with seemingly no effort. Clamping one long arm over
his prisoner's legs where they hung down against his broad chest, tightly
bound at knees and ankles, Riley had walked quietly down the long front
hall. Sir Andrew had strained at the ropes that held him helpless. Lifting
up his head with difficulty, he had struggled with his gag, trying to call
out for help. It had all been useless, of course. He was too tightly tied
to be able to do more than squirm ineffectually, and the wad of
handkerchieves stuffing his mouth reduced his desperate attempts to yell
into muffled grunts and mumbles. Helpless and silenced, he was borne out of
the house, across the gravel of the front drive, which crunched under his
bearer's heavy boots, and brought to his own automobile.
	Riley had dumped him facedown, not without some care for his
comfort, onto the broad back seat and then produced a short length of rope,
which he used to put his captive into a not too tightly strained hog-tie.
He had forced his hand, then, into Sir Andrew's front trouser pocket,
seeking the keys to the auto. He found them, but he also found that his
captive's sex was stiff and hot inside his briefs. He was not particularly
surprised. He was well aware that being bound and gagged stimulated some
men, his employer and himself among them. He was more than a little pleased
to think that this kidnapping was not as unwelcome to his employer's friend
as it might have seemed. A man might struggle in his bonds and grunt into
his gag, but that, Riley knew from experience, was all part of the game. He
had struggled himself against ropes put on him by his employer and striven
to yell through a huge handkerchief gag stuffed into his mouth by the same
man on many occasions. This baronet fellow might be disconcerted and even
frightened at suddenly finding himself bound and gagged and carried off in
this fashion. But if he, Riley, knew anything, the man would soon find that
being the prisoner for a little while of so handsome and what he would call
so talented, in the bedroom sense, a man as his employer was not so bad a
thing. He had resisted giving the helpless man's prick a quick squeeze,
though he was sorely tempted, and then he had gotten in and driven off, Sir
Andrew lying trussed up and gagged behind him.
	"Well, sir," the helpless man now heard from the front seat, "I
hope you're not too discomforted back there?" The chauffeur gave a quick
glance over his shoulder as he spoke, grinning. "I'll be able to ease you a
little where we're going, sir. Oh, that big gag will stay in your mouth,
sir, certainly, and I'll have to keep you trussed, but I can let you out of
the hog-tie and make you a bit more comfortable."
	Sir Andrew twisted his neck to look at the other man. All he could
see now was the back of his head, his cap pulled firmly down. He could make
out trees going past the car windows above him, but the night was dark, and
he had now no idea where they might be. They had twisted and turned many
times on the road during their journey, and Sir Andrew had been forced to
concentrate on not being too knocked about as they did so. He had also been
forced to notice that the way he was made to lie on his stomach pressed his
privates uncomfortably against the leather upholstery of the seat. His
cock, rigid before in half-frightened, half-willing arousal at his being
bound, gagged, and manhandled in this fashion, was now stiff and sore with
excitement. He was ashamed of his response, but unable to control it.
	A man bound and gagged, ever since he was a boy, had always aroused
him, and to be that man, helpless, trussed, gagged, was his ideal. He had
been bound and gagged for sex a few times in the past, but always with his
consent. To have been taken this way, against his will, troubled him and
yet it still excited him. He had hoped since first meeting Gregory that the
man would prove to be a friend in the most intimate way, and if he had, he
had intended, despite his shamed shyness over the matter, to broach the
subject of his being roped and gagged by the other man. He had now learned,
in an almost brutal way, that roping and gagging him were things that his
friend was only too willing to do. His friend? He wondered at his own use
of he word, and yet he still thought of the man in that fashion, despite
the events of the past hour or so. He was being foolish, perhaps, he
thought, but he somehow trusted that the man meant him no real harm. For
the moment, unable to do anything else, he gave himself up to enjoying the
sensations of being bound and gagged and helpless.
	 The big car swung once more to the right and then came to a slow
stop. Riley turned off the motor, and the night seemed suddenly very
quiet. Riley turned in his seat to look down at his captive, who twisted
his head around to stare up at him. He looked, the chauffeur thought, quite
helpless and quite handsome, both. The man was in his late forties, of
medium height, broadly built, with dark hair still thick, and intelligent
brown eyes. He wore a well-barbered dark beard, now mostly hidden by the
big, white silk handkerchief tied so tightly in a broad swath around his
head. Above that tautly knotted seal, the man's gaze was strained and
frightened. He was dressed, of course, in black tie, for dinner with his
erstwhile host, his clothes well-cut and well tailored, if now a little
disarrayed by the man's tightly lashed bonds.  Sir Andrew was no longer
lying as Riley had placed him, his bound feet tethered up to his bound
hands. He had twisted onto his right side, and this revealed the large puff
of the silk handkerchief--a densely patterned paisley of black, maroon, and
gray--that thrust up from the pocket on the man's broad chest. Riley
studied that dandified puff of heavy silk for a moment, a musing smile on
his lips. He knew, as he supposed his silenced and helpless fellow occupant
of the automobile did not, that the big pocket silks the fellow wore, with
his shooting tweeds as well as with his dress coat, in his city suits as
well as with his morning coat, were in part a cause of his being where he
found himself, trussed, gagged, kidnapped, and about to be held prisoner in
a place unknown to him. Riley glanced down at the big white silk puff in
his own chest pocket, an accessory to his chauffeur's uniform not unheard
of, but on which his employer had always been most decidedly insistent. He
smiled again, this time at his captive, and winked at him.
	"Well, sir," Riley said, "let's get you inside." He swung back to
face front and got out of the car, shutting and locking the door. Then he
disappeared for a few moments, and Sir Andrew lay wondering what was to
come next. In a moment, Riley returned, one of his big bandanna
handkerchieves in his hand. Deftly he folded the handkerchief into a broad
bandage on the diagonal, and with this he blindfolded his prisoner, despite
the man's feeble struggles and muffled protest.
	"Nmmmmm. Hmmmmph."
	Riley smiled. "Not much use struggling or protesting, sir. When a
man's as tied up as you and gagged as well as you are, he'd best just let
things go as the man who's got him tied and gagged intends."
	Sir Andrew saw the point of this, but some sense of manly honor
seemed to impel him to strain against his bonds and to grunt and mumble
into his gag. To fight the gag, especially, he felt was necessary. There
was something that made him strive again and again to fight the gag. He
knew he was gagged. He could feel very well how the wad of soft cloth
stuffed and packed his mouth from far back between his teeth to his
lips. He knew all too intimately the bite of the tight bandage that cinched
the wad of the gag in place, the knot boring into the back of his skull. He
knew also the feel of the enveloping silk handkerchief that sealed up his
mouth in a wide swath, half-smothering him and smelling faintly of his
friend's cologne. He was gagged, and very thoroughly gagged. He had tried
over and over to make some articulate sound, or any sound, to summon aid to
him in his plight. All the noises he could make, however, were faint,
completely meaningless groans and grunts, stripped of any sense and choked
into feeble whimpers by the big ball of soft cloth filling his mouth. He
was gagged, and he knew very well that to be gagged was to be thus rendered
inarticulate and near silenced. Yet he could not help himself. Still he
strove to speak through the cruel and effectual gag. He tried not to let
himself be aware that struggling against the gag, and being unable to do
more than grunt into the thick plug of cloth in his mouth, stiffened his
cock yet more.
	"Mmmmmph! Gugulummmmmph!"
	"Ah well, sir," he heard Riley respond. "If you will try to yell,
sir, go ahead. No one will hear you through that big gag, and I cannot say
I don't enjoy those muffled sounds you make."
	Sir Andrew wondered hopefully at the man's meaning as he felt
himself dragged from the seat and once more hoisted to the fellow's broad
shoulder.
	WALLIS PAUSED IN HIS READING when he heard what sounded like the
front door close quietly downstairs. He rose quickly from his chair and
crossed to the window. His room was on the second floor of the house, on
the other side of the bath adjoining his master's bedroom. Both rooms were
on the front of the house, which was the small--small, that is, in relation
to the big house of the former owners of the estate--dower cottage on the
property, and both rooms faced the front drive. Cautiously, Wallis looked
down. The moon was only a day away from being full, and shone brightly on
the gravel drive and the lawn. He saw a figure he immediately recognized as
Riley, the chauffeur, walking to where Sir Andrew Hampton's automobile was
parked. It was a small but expensive auto, which Sir Andrew drove himself,
not liking to keep a chauffeur.
	Wallis puzzled at the other man's burden for an instant, and then
realized it was the figure of a man slung over the big fellow's right
shoulder. A man, Wallis recognized in the next instant, who was bound and
gagged. In the bright light of the moon, he could easily see the ropes
tying the man's limbs and the broad swath of the white silk handkerchief
bound around the man's head. For a second, but a second only, he supposed
the man might be their master, but then he saw that the fellow had dark
hair and he realized it must be Sir Andrew. He watched as Riley stowed his
helpless captive in the back seat of his own car and then got in himself
and drove off down the drive.
	After a long moment, Wallis left the window and returned to his
seat. He took up his book once more and made as if to begin reading, but
then he paused. He listened closely, wondering if he would now hear his
master's steps in the hall. After a few minutes, with no further noise in
the house, he did return to his book. It was his favorite sort of reading
matter, a detective novel. He read for some while.
	It was perhaps twenty minutes later when he heard the sound of an
automobile in the drive. Puzzled, he rose, and once more looked cautiously
from his window. It was, he saw, Sir Andrew's automobile. It came to rest
across the way, in front of the garage, the house's former stables. Nothing
happened for a few moments, and then he saw Riley get out and cross over to
open the door which led to his own quarters above the garage. Then the man
returned and opened the back door of the auto. He leaned in for a moment
and then, as Wallis watched intently, he dragged out the still bound and
gagged and now, Wallis saw, blindfolded as well, Sir Andrew. He hoisted the
feebly struggling man to his shoulder and marched off with him. Wallis
watched as they disappeared inside the open door to Riley's rooms, and the
door shut behind them. In a moment, a light came on above, in what he knew
were Riley's quarters. And that was all.
	After keeping watch a few moments more, Wallis slowly returned to
his chair and his book. He read for some time more, a little tense and
still half alert to any sounds in or around the house, until he suddenly
saw which way the plot of the tale he was reading was headed and let the
book drop, taking a deep breath. For a long moment, he sat quietly, and
then he put his book aside on the table and rose to cross the room to his
dresser.
	He stood looking at himself in the glass. He was quite a short man,
but wiry, with a head of white hair beginning to thin at the temples and
the crown and a dense, neatly barbered white beard. He owed his craggy but
not unpleasing features and his bright blue eyes to his Scots ancestors. He
was sixty-two. He was dressed for going to bed, in his pajamas, with his
dressing robe over them. He glanced down for a moment at the large
handkerchief of blue foularded silk he wore in a puff in the breast pocket
of the navy silk robe.
	Looking up at himself again, he opened the top drawer of his
dresser and took out several very large white pocket handkerchieves. He
used two of these to form a big wad, opening them, laying them one on the
other, and rolling them in upon themselves. A third handkerchief he folded
diagonally into a wide and thick bandage. With these he then proceeded to
gag himself, watching in the mirror as he did so. He stuffed the big wad
into his mouth and tied the third handkerchief tightly over his mouth to
keep the gag in place. When he had done knotting the handkerchief behind
his head, pulling it as tight as he could manage, he looked at himself once
more in the glass. He reached up and gently rubbed the silk puff in his
breast pocket between his thumb and forefinger. He had never worn such a
thing before he had come to work for Gregory more than twenty years before,
hired first to be the fellow's valet by the man's late father, and
afterwards coming to be in charge of his house, when he had moved to the
estate. Now he wore them every day, and night, at his master's orders. He
was not unwilling to please his master in that fashion.
	Wallis turned and went back to his chair. Taking up his book, he
began to read where he had left off, and, as he anticipated, the handsome
and intelligent hero detective made an error of judgement and found himself
at the mercy of his enemy and his enemy's henchmen. He was bound and
gagged--the author surprised and pleased Wallis by providing an unusually
thorough description of that event--and then left to await a worse fate in
an abandoned warehouse. Wallis read no further when he saw that the next
chapter took up the tale from the point of view of the hero's sidekick, who
would presumably find and rescue him. He put down the book and then reached
inside the fly of his pajamas. His cock was rigid, had been so since he
first had seen his master's guest carried off like that, bound, gagged, and
helpless, and he stroked his stiff sex slowly.
	He was careful not to allow himself the relief of climax. More than
once he brought himself close, and once he almost misjudged his timing, but
he managed--just--to prevent what he would have regarded as a sort of minor
disaster. He allowed himself the luxury of teasing himself this way for
some while before he finally stopped, his breath a little short, a few
beads of sweat on his brow. He relaxed for a moment. Then he rose and
removed his robe, placing it over the back of the easy chair he had been
sitting in, careful to lay it left side up, with the big puff of silk
plumping the patch breast pocket prominently exposed. He turned out the
light beside the chair, leaving only the bedside lamp lit, and got into his
bed, taking his book with him. He began to read the next chapter, enjoying
the adventures of the hero's sidekick as he searched for the man he, as the
reader, knew lay helplessly bound and gagged and in desperate danger,
anticipating the man's rescue. Despite the gag still stuffed and tied into
his mouth, and despite the not unpleasant tingling in his privates, he soon
drifted off to sleep.
	GREGORY LISTENED TO THE CLOCK in the hall outside his study as it
struck the hour. The three solemn bongs that finished the chiming died away
and the house was quiet once more. He shifted slightly in his seat. The
ropes that bound him and the gag that silenced him had not loosened,
despite all his struggles over the past couple of hours. Nor had his cock
lost its rigid stiffness in response to those bonds and that gag. Gregory
was perversely enjoying being the victim this night, a role he had played
very infrequently but which he always savored when he did so.
	He found his whole situation immensely satisfying. The events of
the evening earlier had gone precisely as he had planned. Sir Andrew, the
handsome, foppishly silk-puffed Sir Andrew, was a new neighbor and a new
friend, having only moved into the area six months before. Gregory had
first met him when their paths crossed while both were walking the wooded
hills on the border of the immense estate. It had belonged formerly to
Gregory's late father and was now owned by the National Trust. Sir Andrew
had sparked Gregory's interest immediately, being not only handsome and
shyly friendly but also, as Gregory had noted at that first meeting, a
dandy and a man who wore large silk handkerchieves in carelessly
ostentatious puffs in the chest pocket of his walking suits. Later
meetings, and the intercourse of their subsequently developing friendship,
had allowed Gregory to observe that the man wore those puffed silks with
every outfit he donned, from tweed shooting suits to black tie at dinner.
	Gregory had become, to his own slight discomfiture, mildly, and
then more than mildly, obsessed with his new neighbor. Fortunately for him,
he possessed a pleasing exterior and a charm of manner that allowed him to
ingratiate himself with many people, Sir Andrew included. Gregory had
enough heart to be touched when he began to perceive that the other man saw
him in the light of a close friend. He probed, ever so delicately, into the
other man's feelings, and was flattered and chagrined to discover that he
was evidently one of the few friends the other man possessed. Handsome, and
well off, if not so wealthy as his title (which he himself thought little
of) might lead others to expect, Sir Andrew it seemed suffered from a
surprisingly low opinion of himself. His only apparent self-approbation was
a touch of physical vanity; he knew he was a handsome man, and his foppish
attire was an acknowledgement of that. He was grateful for his new
neighbor's frequent and increasingly warm attentions. Gregory comforted the
pricking of his conscience with the wholly truthful response that he was
genuinely very fond of the other fellow, as well as desperate to have him
at his disposal, bound, gagged, and helpless.
	So the evening had been an entire success, from Gregory's point of
view. He had enjoyed a well-prepared dinner with his friend, honestly
enjoying his company, as well as the constant observation of the immense
silk puff in the man's chest pocket. The anticipation of what he had
planned had added spice to the mix, of course. When he had given his friend
the drugged whiskey, and watched the fellow slowly sink into
unconsciousness, he had been almost too keyed up. Binding and then gagging
the man had brought him to a high pitch of excitement. Being bound and
gagged himself subsequently, and with Sir Andrew looking on in bound and
gagged bewilderment, had had a paradoxically exciting and soothing effect
upon him. He had been actually glad to have Riley carry their victim off
for safe-keeping while he remained behind, trussed and muzzled, forced to
remain inactive, and by the most sensual means he knew: tightly bound
ropes, and an immense and securely bound in handkerchief gag.
	He had spent the past hours concentrating on his own sensations. He
was not unaware of his own good looks. He was a tall man, in his late
forties, rather strongly built and in good condition from regular exercise
on foot and astride. He had a thick head of formerly fair but now slightly
grayed hair, deep-set blue eyes, and regular features. He wore a carefully
tended mustache that gave him, in the eyes of some, the look of a former
military man, an effect he was not displeased to cultivate, although he had
never been in the army. He always dressed well, and like Sir Andrew, he
always wore an immense silk handkerchief puffed in his chest pocket,
although he was a little more studied and a touch more restrained in his
arrangement of the silk than his recently found companion. In short, he
knew that he presented a good appearance.
	He was, in fact, the sort of man that, from an early age, he had
loved to see in his present predicament, that is, as the victim of
circumstances beyond his control. He found his height of excitement in the
image of an older, well-dressed, and not uncomely man who was utterly
helpless, strictly and severely bound up in many coils of tight rope and
effectively and brutally gagged with immense wads and thick bandages made
from men's handkerchieves. He had enjoyed himself very well during the past
hours, glancing down at himself and especially at the big white silk
handkerchief amply puffed in the chest pocket of his dinner clothes,
excited by the way it dimpled and changed shape in response to his
struggles. Those struggles had excited him as well. He had strained against
the ropes that bound him, gratified at how useless his efforts proved,
unable to loosen the bindings that held him into the heavy chair and barely
able to move at all. He had grunted over and over into his gag, even more
gratified at how well he was silenced. The thick, soft wad packed his mouth
solidly with cloth, and he was unable to loosen the painfully tight bandage
of the black silk handkerchief that compressed his lips and cheeks over his
gag in a viselike grip, securing the smothering gag in place.
	He was bound and gagged and utterly unable to help himself. He
savored the sensations without tiring of the immense excitement they
instilled in him. Bound and gagged. How he loved those words. Bound and
gagged. How he loved even more the reality. To have another man bound and
gagged in his arms or to be, as now, himself bound and gagged. He grunted
in pleasure into the muzzling gag.
	"Mmmmmph! Gmmmmpht!"
	WALLIS HAD BEEN DREAMING, in a way he found exciting and yet
troubling, even slightly obscene. He was helping his master to dress in a
tweed walking suit. He was trying to arrange a paisley silk handkerchief in
his master's chest pocket, but the handkerchief refused somehow to stay
put. It kept getting bigger and bigger, swelling into a thick lobe, despite
all his efforts to stuff it into the pocket on his master's chest. He felt
even smaller than usual in front of his tall employer, who inexplicably was
now not his employer, but the handsome Riley. Wallis found his own face on
a level with the pocket. The handkerchief suddenly seemed to become almost
a living thing. It drew itself from the chauffeur's chest pocket and rolled
into a huge globe of thick, silken cloth, the size of a football. Then it
thrust itself into his mouth as an enormous gag, and Riley as suddenly
produced an immense bandanna handkerchief and began tying it over his now
hugely stuffed mouth.
	He awoke with a grunt, muffled by the gag still stuffed and tied
into his mouth. The book he had been reading slipped off his chest, where
it had fallen as he went to sleep, and he just caught it before it dropped
off the bed. He looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost
five in the morning. He listened alertly. The house was quiet. He
remembered what he had seen and done before falling asleep, and he wondered
if his employer had come up to bed while he slept. He sat up, and put the
book down on the table, still listening. Then he got up and put on his robe
and his slippers and went out into the hall.
	With quiet steps, he walked to the door of his master's room and
put his ear to the panel. He could hear nothing. After a moment's
hesitation, he gently turned the knob and cracked the door open. No sound,
and no light. He pushed the door open a little wider and cautiously peered
inside. The moon was on the other side of the house now, and the light was
dim, but he could see clearly that his employer's bed was unoccupied and
undisturbed. There was no light in the bathroom beyond. His master was not
there.
	Puzzled and vaguely concerned, Wallis stood in the hallway
hesitating. Then he shut the door to his master's room and turned away. For
a moment, he hung fire, and then he went to the head of the staircase and
started down, listening all the while. Before he reached the lower floor,
he saw that there was a faint light under the door of his master's
study. He paused, uncertain what to do. He listened hard. He thought he
heard a faint sound, a muffled noise, like ... like a gagged grunt, he
thought suddenly. The sort of sound he made himself when he was gagged, or
one of his master's occasional guests made when he and the master were
engaged privately in his master's bedroom. He was not, of course, unaware
of his employer's tastes. He knew very well that all his master's sexual
partners sooner or later--usually sooner--found themselves bound and
gagged. But who might it be, he wondered? He had seen Sir Andrew taken into
the chauffeur's own quarters for some purpose of either his or the master's
by the chauffeur. Riley and himself were his master's only servants. Unless
Sir Andrew had been brought back? or was it the master himself? was
something going on he should investigate? or was this something he had
better not explore?
	As the man stood hesitating a few steps up, he again just caught
the faint sound he had heard a moment before. It was too faint really to
identify. Was he only imagining that it sounded like the muffled, smothered
cry of a gagged man, influenced by the sight of Sir Andrew? He paused and
then he came down the stairs, noiselessly approaching the study door. He
applied his ear to the top panel and listened.
	"Mmmmmmph. Mmmmmmph."
	There it was again. Very faint, yes, but now unmistakable. The
sound of a gagged man.
	Cautiously, Wallis tried the knob. It turned slowly, and then, in
the silence of the nighttime house, unlatched with a sharp click. Feeling
himself committed now, he opened the door a little way and peered around
it.
	"Ugummph!" He had forgotten the gag in his mouth, and his startled
cry was muffled to a grunt by the wad of his own handkerchieves stuffed
between his jaws.
	Across from him, and facing him, sat his employer, in one of the
old, heavy oak chairs he kept in this room and upstairs in his bedroom. And
his master was tied to that chair and tightly gagged. Above the tautly
bound bandage of black silk that covered his mouth, Gregory was looking at
him with a startled gaze.
	For a long moment, the two men stared at each other over their
gags. Wallis did not know what to think. His master was bound and
gagged. Knowing as he did that his master often bound and gagged his sexual
companions, Wallis was in some ways prepared for the sight that met his
eyes, except that it being his master who sat there, tied and gagged,
surprised him.  Gregory was equally startled, but for different reasons. He
had expected his manservant to find him, and had looked forward to the
event. He knew that Wallis was well aware of his tastes, and yet the two
had never mentioned the matter. He had decided that he wished to change
that, and had used his plan for Sir Andrew to accomplish that goal as
well. He had planned on using his manservant's discovery of him trussed and
gagged like this as the opening he desired. But he had not expected to be
discovered quite so early in the morning. That was not important, of
course, but why, he wondered, with immense surprise, was Wallis himself
gagged?
	The older man slowly came into the room, hesitating and then, from
force of habit, closing the door behind him. Slowly, and diffidently, he
crossed to stand beside his employer, who looked up at him
curiously. Gregory observed that the older man was indeed quite effectively
gagged, with what looked to be his own pocket handkerchieves. He noted with
satisfaction that the fellow wore, as he had long ago been ordered always
to do, a large silk handkerchief puffed in the chest pocket of his dressing
gown.
	After a long moment, in which the two men stared at each other
above their gags, Wallis seemed to come to himself, and he reached up and
freed the knot in the handkerchief binding up his mouth. He drew out the
wad of handkerchieves that had stuffed his mouth and worked his jaws.
	"Are ...are you all right, sir?" he asked hoarsely. It seemed a
ridiculous question, but he did not know what else to say.
	Gregory nodded.
	"Shall I untie you?"
	Gregory suddenly took it into his head to see what his servant
would do if he said no. He shook his head.
	"What shall I do then, sir?" the older man asked.
	Gregory raised one eyebrow.
	"Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmmph!"
	Wallis stared at his employer, at a loss. He looked the man up and
down, and he noticed, to his own embarrassment, that his master's sex was
stiff and was tenting the crotch of his trousers. He paused, looking up
into Gregory's eyes, and then, fascinated, he stared once more at his
employer's obvious excitement. Knowing that the man was aroused by bondage,
he had often fantasized about the man in this condition. He had never, of
course, allowed his employer to know that. But now the temptation was very
great. He found himself, under the influence of the night's events, unable
to prevent himself. He leaned over his master and tugged open the buttons
of the man's trousers. The man's cock, rigidly stiff, sprang out of the fly
in an outrageously upright protrusion. The tip was slick with precum.
	Wallis slowly knelt down in front of his employer, who watched,
trussed and gagged, in extreme surprise mixed with extreme
anticipation. When the older man hesitated, Gregory grunted into his gag.
	"Mmmmmpht! Um hummmmmpht!"
	Wallis looked up at the blue eyes staring into his above the cruel
looking gag. Gregory nodded insistently, grunting again into the wad of
handkerchieves stuffing his mouth.
	"Mmmm hmmmmmpht! Mmmmmph!"
	With a slow nod and a slightly wry smile, Wallis said, "Yes, sir. I
see what I am to do, sir, and I am glad to do so, sir."
	He bent forward and gently took his employer's stiff sex into his
mouth. He had barely enveloped the rigid and yet soft shaft in his lips
when the man before him gave a yell choked by his gag into a strangled
groan and came, the long hours of being bound and gagged erupting into a
furious climax. Wallis slid his lips down his employer's pulsing sex and
felt the salty sweet cum shoot sharply onto his tongue.
	Above him, Gregory almost broke the ropes that bound him as he
came, shouting into his gag and feeling every sensation of his climax
heightened by having that big gag bottle his cries into his throat. Keen
images of himself, silk puffed, tightly bound, brutally gagged, mingled in
his head with images of Sir Andrew similarly puffed, bound, and gagged, and
with images, to his surprise but not displeasure, of the man before him,
loyal and handsome, trussed, handkerchief gagged, and hugely silk
puffed. His climax was long, hard, and momentarily, at least, exhausting.
	WHEN SIR ANDEW AWOKE, there was a dim light in the room that told
him it must be near dawn. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to move very
much since he was still tightly bound and still securely gagged as well. He
was surprised that he had nonetheless slept for what he supposed must have
been several hours, here on Riley's bed, the big man beside him, indeed,
holding him, cradling his prisoner's head and shoulders on his broadcloth
covered chest. Beneath him now, Sir Andrew felt the slow rise and fall of
the man's breathing, a rhythm that told him the fellow still
slept. Strangely unwilling to wake his erstwhile jailer just yet, Sir
Andrew kept still, ignoring his cramped limbs.
	He was no longer really afraid. He had been, still, when Riley had
first brought him here. He remembered that second journey over the man's
strong shoulder, head down, helpless, trussed up, gagged, and blindfolded
as well. The unnatural position, his bonds, the gag, the blindfold at that
moment most of all, had disoriented him, and he had been near to panic,
despite his arousal. Where had he been taken, what was to be done with him?
He had struggled, but his struggles were ludicrously useless. He had
striven to shout into his gag, but the wad of handkerchieves had silenced
all but the faintest of grunts. He had had to suffer himself to be carted
off like a bag of meal, humiliating and frightening as it was.
	He had felt the big man mount a flight of stairs, and then he was
carried into a room and immediately lowered onto what he thought was a
bed. Riley had removed the tether hog-tying him before taking him from the
auto, and he now laid his captive flat on his back.
	"I'll be back in a moment, Sir Andrew," he heard the fellow say,
and he caught, after a moment, the unmistakable sounds of the man taking a
leak. He returned immediately, and Sir Andrew felt himself hoisted onto his
broad shoulder once more.
	"Mmmmmph! Mugulmmmmph!" Startled and, if truth be told, exasperated
more than he was frightened, he had protested into his brutally effective
gag. Riley had chuckled.
	"Oh, I think you'll thank me in a minute, sir," he said. Indeed,
when he realized the man's purpose, Sir Andrew was grateful. Riley took him
into the bathroom, lowered him, and then, with a strength that amazed his
captive, held him steady, took out the man's stiff prick, and managed to
coax the bound and gagged man into relieving himself. Sir Andrew was
desperate to do so, but his arousal made it difficult. He was surprised by
the gentle way his jailer handled him and urged him on, and by the almost
tender care he took in helping him to do what was needful. Once he had done
his duty, the big man carried him back to the bed. He did not know it, but
the fellow stood looking down at him where he lay, helpless in his bonds,
gag, and blindfold, for a long moment.
	"Well," the big man said in a kind voice, "let me make you a bit
more comfortable, sir." He gave a chuckle once more. "'Course, I know you
don't really mind those ropes and that gag, sir, given the testimony of
your John Thomas there, but I'll make it a bit easier for you to lie on my
bed, seeing how you're to do it this long night till Mr. Gregory comes for
you."
	Sir Andrew wondered what the man meant, but with a mouth full of
gag he was in no position to ask. He heard the fellow cross the room and
then return after a moment. He was rolled gently over onto his stomach, and
he felt the ropes around his wrists loosened. He had no real opportunity to
struggle free, of course. He was still bound tightly at the elbows, knees,
and ankles, as well as blindfolded and gagged. And Riley had, to his
slightly indignant astonishment, expressed in a gag-muffled grunt, gotten
up onto the bed and straddled his thighs from behind, pressing him down
onto the firm mattress. The man gave him no real chance to free even his
hands, in fact. He loosened the ropes, and then he brought his prisoner's
right hand down and clamped it to the mattress with his own heavy right
knee. Then he proceeded to use the rope still knotted to Sir Andrew's left
wrist to bind his hand to his left thigh, pulling the bonds
uncompromisingly tight. He then used another length of rope to bind the
man's right wrist to his right thigh, effectively trussing him up securely
once more, but allowing him, when he got off the bed himself, to roll his
prisoner onto his back without forcing him to keep his arms cramped behind
him. Sir Andrew was grateful for the change, knowing that he was to be kept
tied and gagged for at least the coming night.
	"There you are, sir, a bit more comfortable, I reckon?"
	Sir Andrew, to his surprise, found himself nodding and grunting
into his gag in agreement. Silly bugger, he thought to himself, thanking
the man who's making sure you stay bound and gagged. Force of habit,
politeness for service, he excused himself, but he knew it was not just
that. He refused, however, to openly acknowledge even to himself that he
was glad the change would make it possible for him to stay as he was,
bound, gagged, and helpless, a state of affairs he was, despite all other
concerns, secretly enjoying.
	He felt the man sit on the side of the bed. There was a pause, and
then he felt his chest pocket handkerchief being fussed with.
	"Bit too much out of your pocket, sir, even for you," Riley
murmured. "Got mussed up, with you being carried and turned about, I dare
say. There."
	Beneath his blindfold and gag, Sir Andrew felt himself flush with
embarrassment. He knew he wore his handkerchieves rather ostentatiously
displayed. It was a part of the look he liked for himself, dandified yet a
bit careless, as if he were concerned but not too much so. In fact, knowing
that he was a good-looking man, and sometimes feeling that his good-looks
and his position were all he had to offer in friendship to such a man as
Gregory, he was very careful about his dress, and yet hated to have the
fact alluded to. He was surprised at himself, nonetheless. He had been
drugged, bound, gagged, manhandled, kidnapped, blindfolded and was still a
helplessly trussed and muzzled prisoner in a place he did not know, jailed
by his friend's chauffeur, and he was blushing because the man made
reference to his dandy show handkerchief.
	"Well, sir," Riley said, "I think we could remove that blindfold,
too." Sir Andrew felt the man's hands slip behind his head, and in a
moment, its knot loosened, the big bandanna handkerchief fell away, and he
could see once more.
	Riley was sitting very close to him, looking down at him with a
slight smile under his thick mustache. His massive torso blocked much of
Sir Andrew's immediate view, but he could see that he was in a small room,
neatly furnished as a bedroom, and quite tidy and clean. He lay on an iron
bedstead, on a patchwork counterpane, his head on two stacked pillows
covered in worn but clean linen. There was a small oak table beside the
head of the bed, with a lamp, now lit, a stack of paperback novels, and a
clean bandanna handkerchief, neatly folded. Across the room was an oak
dresser, with a small square mirror above. A heavy oak chair was in one
corner. On the walls were several framed prints. He recognized them
immediately as prints by "Spy", those slightly caricatured portraits of
prominent male figures of the last century. Had he been able to look at
them more closely, he might have noticed that each and every one of the men
portrayed wore a prominently, one might even say exaggeratedly, displayed
handkerchief in his chest pocket. Such idiosyncrasies of dress, often ones
looked upon by the public as a trademark of the man concerned, were the
details by which the artist had produced his effects. But it was
interesting that Riley had only such men on his walls whose pointedly drawn
characteristics included the wearing of an ostentatious show handkerchief.
	Sir Andrew looked up at the other man, who was watching him
attentively. Suddenly the man bent over and tugged off his tall boots. He
sat upright for a moment, and then, with a smile at Sir Andrew, he reached
over and removed his shoes as well.
	"A bit more comfortable," he murmured, by way of explanation. He
seemed a bit absent-minded, however, and he tweaked one of his captive's
big toes, prompting a startled grunt into his gag from Sir Andrew.
	The tall man then hoisted himself up onto the bed, and, after a bit
of a struggle, settled himself with his back against the headrail,
cushioned by the two pillows, and with Sir Andrew beside him, his shoulders
encircled by the big man's strong right arm.
	"Comfy?" he said with a wicked grin.
	Sir Andrew grunted into his muffling gag, but whether he meant yes
or no he was not sure himself. Riley evidently took the gagged sound for
agreement and settled back with a sigh. There was a pause. After a moment,
Sir Andrew realized that the man was idly toying with the folded bandanna
handkerchief he had used to blindfold him. Then, without ceremony, but with
a kind of tender intentness, the man bound the broad bandage over Sir
Andrew's already tightly swathed mouth. He fitted the thick cotton band
carefully between his prisoner's nose and chin, neatly covering the white
silk binding, and brought the ends behind the man's head to tie them into a
quite mercilessly tight knot.
	Then he cocked his head to look at the effect. He nodded, more to
himself, Sir Andrew thought, than anything else.
	"There," he said quietly, as he settled himself and his prisoner
once more, "that's done. Mr. Gregory likes a silk covering on a gag, but
me, well, I'm partial to bandanna handkerchieves. There won't be no harm
you wearing that extra gag till he comes." He grinned sidelong at his
companion. "It'll just keep you that much more quiet, like a gag should,
sir."
	And then, to Sir Andrew's surprise, the fellow had closed his eyes
and gone, in a few moments, gently to sleep.
	At first, Sir Andrew had been astonished, and then, he had been he
did not know what. He could have struggled, he supposed, but he knew it
would have been purposeless. There was no getting free from his bonds or
his gag, he knew that. What was the use? And then, he finally began to
admit to himself, he was not entirely certain he even wanted to be free. In
fact, he knew he did not. For long moments he lay, tightly bound, securely
gagged, held close to the bulk and warmth of his present jailer. His mind
began to drift.
	At one point, he realized that he was staring at the large white
silk handkerchief that the chauffeur wore puffed so prominently from the
chest pocket of his high-collared coat. It rose up in a thickly rounded and
dimpled lobe a good three inches, and stuck out from the man's pocket so
that it was the first thing you noticed about the man after you noted his
height and his bald-headed good-looks. Sir Andrew had observed the way the
fellow always wore such a handkerchief with his uniform, and that he wore
big silk handkerchieves displayed in an equally bold fashion in the pockets
of his tweed suits, on the several occasions he had seen him out of
uniform. Wallis, he found himself remembering, his friend's manservant,
also always wore a big white silk handkerchief in his chest pocket, quite
unusual for a man in his station. And of course, Gregory himself, his
friend, always wore a big silk puff in his chest pocket, whether he was in
tweeds, or a city suit, or evening dress. Like himself, he thought. He was
trying to puzzle out why this observation so obsessed him as he fell
asleep.
	WALLIS TWISTED HIS HEAD TO ONE SIDE so he could watch his master
across the room. Gregory was arranging a silk handkerchief in the chest
pocket of his tweed walking suit, taking his time and smiling to
himself. Wallis might have been expected to do that honor, but he could not
have done so at present.
	Wallis had freed his master from the ropes that bound him into his
chair and from the gag that stuffed and sealed his mouth about an hour
before. After a brief conversation, and following his employer's orders, he
had prepared a bath and then gone into his master's bedroom to lay out a
suit and the accompanying shirt and haberdashery in readiness. When he had
done, he turned to find his master just coming back into his bedroom from
the bath, where he had shaved and cleaned himself. He was wearing his
dressing gown, a luxurious robe of thick black silk, with an extremely
large black silk handkerchief lolling from the big chest pocket in an
ostentatious and puffy lobe. Wallis himself was still in his dressing gown,
not having had time yet to change into his proper suit.
	To Wallis' complete surprise, Gregory had undone the belt from his
own black silk robe and then proceeded to use the wide band of silk to bind
Wallis' hands behind his back. The manservant had submitted docilely, of
course, startled but acquiescent. Without a word, Gregory had drawn the
fellow over to his own dresser. He had taken out some of his own big white
pocket handkerchieves and deftly fashioned no fewer than three of them into
a very large wad. Without ceremony, he had stuffed the big bolus of soft
cloth into Wallis' mouth as a brutal gag, thrusting it in deep and
insisting, by his accepting no resistance, that the much smaller man take
the whole wad completely between his jaws.
	Wallis had put up no fight, but he had had to struggle to take that
wad of his master's handkerchieves into his mouth. He was forcefully
reminded of his earlier dream by how the great ball of cloth gave him the
same sensation of helplessly gagged submission. Of course, his sex had
instantly stiffened, tenting the front of his pajamas under his robe, and
Gregory had glanced down at that with an amused smile.
	His employer had then taken from his dresser one of the extremely
large handkerchieves of heavy white silk twill he wore with his evening
clothes, and this he had folded on the diagonal into a thick and wide
band. Immediately he bound the handkerchief over his manservant's cruelly
packed mouth, pressing the thick middle down over the man's bearded lips
and wrapping the long wings into a brutally tight knot at the back of his
head. He took great care to pull the binding into an extremely tight seal,
taut and flat from nose to chin, so tight it seemed a wonder even that
strong silk did not tear under the strain.
	Gregory had then led his now severely gagged man over to his own
bed, and, after indicating his intention with a gesture, helped the bound
man as he awkwardly followed his orders to lie down. Gregory jerked the
belt from the older man's own robe, and used it to bind the fellow's ankles
together and then to bring his feet up and tie them to his bound hands in a
tight hog-tie. He had stood looking down at his handiwork for a moment.
	A bit makeshift, he had thought, but rather the more exciting for
all that, in its way. The old fellow was quite helpless, trussed up like a
turkey and brutally silenced with handkerchieves, and that, after all, was
the point. He had formulated a new twist to his plan for the morning, now
that he had found out that Wallis so enjoyed being tied and gagged. The
fellow would stay put and stay quiet. And he looked, well, quite appealing
that way. He was a handsome fellow, and trussed up into that hog-tie, his
mouth bound up tightly in that very effective and very cruel handkerchief
gag, he made an arousing sight. Gregory leaned over the man and gently
rolled him onto his right side. He reached down and tweaked the big
handkerchief of blue foulard the fellow wore puffed in his chest pocket.
	"You have always followed orders well, haven't you, Wallis?" The
remark might have sounded unkind, but Gregory spoke in a tone the showed
the real fondness he felt for his servant.
	Wallis had nodded. "Umm hmmmph." Had he not had that gag stuffed
into his mouth, he would have said something modest, but now an acquiescent
grunt was all his could manage through the brutally big wad of his master's
handkerchieves. Gregory had grinned at the sound, and then he had suddenly
plucked the huge black silk handkerchief from his own chest pocket, quickly
folded it into a band, and bound it over his servant's already tightly tied
up mouth. The heavy silk made a thick swath that completely enveloped the
man's face from high under his strong nose to his firm, bearded chin. He
looked, as he was, utterly silenced by the strenuous and lavish
gag. Gregory had given his cheek an affectionately mocking pat, and then he
had dropped his robe and begun to dress.
	As he put on and arranged the clothes Wallis had chosen for him, he
occasionally glanced over at the bound and gagged man, amused to find the
fellow watching him. He dressed with his usual slow care, making sure that
every detail was just as he liked it to be. Even when he was dressing for
everyday, as he might have been thought to be doing now, he took great
care. A good twenty minutes went by before he reached what for him was the
final, and most important, point, the placing of the handkerchief in his
chest pocket. Often he allowed Wallis to do that for him, remaining an
exacting critic every time. His manservant had learned, over the years,
just how to place the handkerchief--in an exaggerated puff just this side
of overweening foppishness--to please his employer. But Gregory liked to
keep his hand in for such matters, and he was deft at arranging silk pocket
handkerchieves, his own and those of other men. One of the highlights of
his relationship with Sir Andrew had been the day when he had found the
opportunity to readjust the fellow's chest pocket puff.
	This morning he took up the large square of deep blue, white, and
black paisley silk Wallis had selected and arranged it in his usual
ostentatiously protuberant fashion in the patch chest pocket of his gray
tweed walking suit. He gave the handkerchief a tug or two to make sure it
thrust up and out in the way he liked, turning from side to side to examine
its placement in the mirror. Satisfied at last that the densely patterned
cloth protruded in a great thick lobe of silken color, just as he liked it
to do, he turned to where Wallis lay watching, snugly trussed and severely
gagged. With a little flourish of his right hand, as if to say, what do you
think, he faced the other man who nodded and gave a little muffled grunt of
approval into his big handkerchief gag.
	"Mmmmph hummmph." Wallis forced the faint grunt of approbation
through the wad of cloth that packed his mouth so solidly.
	Gregory smiled, his eyes closing sensually. "Ah, my old friend, how
I love that sound, the sound of well-gagged man, a man with his mouth
crammed as full as it can possibly be of handkerchieves, packed, stuffed,
thrust solidly full of gag." He opened his eyes and looked down at his
helpless manservant. "That's how it is, isn't it, old friend? You're
gagged, aren't you?"
	Wallis, feeling his own stiff sex leap with further arousal in
response to his employer's coaxing words, nodded, and to both their
satisfaction, grunted faintly once more into his smothering gag.
	"Ymmmph."
	Gregory smiled down at him. "I have an idea for you, my old
friend. I do, indeed. You just wait here--you weren't planning on going
anywhere just now, were you?--and you'll see."
	Wallis, helpless and silenced, stared up at him dumbly.
	With a wink, Gregory left the room and headed for the stairs.
	SIR ANDREW HAD ALMOST BEGUN to doze off once more when something,
he was not sure what, jerked him awake. He glanced across the room and gave
a startled grunt into his gag.
	"Mmmmpht!"
	Gregory stood there, leaning against the door jam, a slight smile
under his thick mustache, watching the two men on the bed. He was dressed
for walking, in a well-cut suit of gray tweed, with a doeskin vest. His tie
was neatly knotted, a navy blue wool, and his shirt was a crisp tattersal
in white with navy and a paler blue lines. His handkerchief, silk paisley
in blue, black, and white, stuffed the patch breast pocket of his coat to
bursting and rose up and out in a great puff. Sir Andrew, remembering his
earlier thoughts on the handkerchieves his friend and captor and the man's
employees all wore, stared at the big lobe of silk in fascination.
	Beneath him, as he studied the huge puff in Gregory's chest pocket,
he felt the chauffeur take a sudden deep breath, stir, and then shift on
the bed. The man's long arm tightened around the bound man's shoulders, and
he realized that Riley had awakened. He twisted his head around to look up
at the man's face. He was yawning, his big hand cupped over his mouth. He
glanced down at Sir Andrew and then up at his employer.
	"Good morning, sir," he said in a lazy voice.
	Gagged, Sir Andrew of course could say nothing to Gregory. A slight
twitch of fear had returned. He was still, after all, a helpless prisoner
of these men, tightly bound and securely gagged. His own arousal in
response to his situation was still very high--he could feel his sex stiff
in his trousers--but he did not yet know what his friend had planned for
him. Surely he did not really intend to kidnap him. The idea, now that he
looked at it in the light of day, seemed ludicrous. It had not quite seemed
so in the middle of the night, when he first came to from the drug, he
admitted that. Finding himself helpless, trussed up to the chair and
brutally gagged with handkerchieves, he had been genuinely frightened, even
as his erotic excitement had gradually taken over. Now, however, he
wondered. Surely it had been play-acting? It meant only, he hoped, that his
friend found ropes and gags and mock kidnappings and robberies as arousing
as he did himself? He watched as Gregory stood up straight and came to
stand beside the bed.
	"Good morning, Riley," he said. He smiled at his chauffeur. "Sir
Andrew was no trouble, I see."
	"No sir," Riley said with a chuckle, "he was not. 'Course, a man
trussed up like a bird for roasting and gagged with a wad of handkerchieves
the size of a football isn't likely to make himself difficult, sir."
	Gregory nodded. Riley rose from the bed, carefully easing Sir
Andrew's head and shoulders from his own broad chest to the mattress as he
did so, and then he went into the little bathroom, where he could be heard
taking a leak.
	Gregory sat on the side of the bed opposite, looking down at the
bound and gagged Sir Andrew with a wry smile on his handsome lips. He bent
suddenly over the man and forced his fingers behind his head. Sir Andrew
felt the knot in Riley's bandanna handkerchief loosen, and the outer
binding fell away. Its doing so in no way eased his gag. The silk binding
was tight, secure, and completely effective.
	"You'd better hurry back, and help Sir Andrew, Riley," Gregory
called in an amused tone. He was now, to the bound man's surprise and not
entirely complete pleasure, loosening the ropes on the fellow's legs. Riley
appeared in the doorway, fastening up the fly of his uniform trousers. He
gave a tug to his jacket as he crossed to the bed. With a nonchalant ease,
the big man hoisted the Sir Andrew, whose arms were still bound and whose
mouth was still securely gagged, to his unsteady feet. More carrying him
than guiding him, he took Sir Andrew into the bathroom, and, as he had done
before, helped the man to relieve himself with tender care.
	In a few moments--helping Sir Andrew took a little while, since his
unflagging arousal made doing what was needful difficult for him--Riley
returned with the bound man, who was now, as feeling in his cramped legs
returned, more able to move under his own control. The big man gently
pushed him down onto the bed once more.
	"Mmmmmph! Mugulummmmph!" Sir Andrew grunted into his gag, but
whether he was really protesting this treatment not even he was certain. As
he subsided, he found himself once more staring in fascination at his
friend's huge silk show handkerchief. Gregory had worn an almost abstracted
expression for several minutes, despite his close attention to what
transpired, and now he sat for a moment as if in thought.
	"I've had an idea, Riley," he said slowly. He turned to look up at
the big man. "And I've had a talk with Wallis, early this morning. And
besides all that, there is something I want you to see." He smiled with a
slight lift of his left eyebrow at Riley.
	"Certainly, sir," Riley said. "But what about Sir Andrew, here?"
Gregory smiled at the bound and gagged man, who lay back with his head and
shoulders supported by the pillows. He lifted his gaze from his
concentration on the silken lobe thrusting up from Gregory's chest and met
the man's amused eyes.
	"Oh, I want my friend to come along with us." He stood up. "You can
walk now, don't you think, Hampton?" He looked inquiringly at Sir Andrew,
who stared back at him, his eyes rather wide above the cruel-looking
gag. After a moment, Sir Andrew nodded. Gregory reached down and carefully
helped his friend to stand. He took a moment to neaten the man's clothing,
straightening his collar and bow-tie, pulling down his coat, pulling up his
trousers, and giving special care to adjusting the big silk paisley puff in
his chest pocket. Sir Andrew tucked his chin down to watch especially the
careful manner in which his friend tugged and plumped the big paisley silk
in his chest pocket, and then he looked with attention once more at the
protuberant puff on the other man's chest. Gregory noted this with a
gratified smile.
	Taking Sir Andrew's arm, Gregory led the man out of the room,
through a small parlor, and down the flight of stairs to the outside. Riley
came behind. Sir Andrew was surprised when he saw that he had spent the
night in the chauffeur's quarters, only a few hundred yards away from the
study where he had awakened to find himself trussed up and gagged. He now
deduced that Riley had taken him on a wild goose chase of a drive to fool
him into thinking he was being driven to some distant hideout. He glanced
sidelong above his tight gag at the man who was guiding him across the
gravel forecourt. He found his eye caught once more by the big silk puff at
the man's chest. Gregory, knowing he had realized the deception, grinned at
him but said nothing.
	The morning was cold and misty, and the three men walked beneath a
low fog that hung over the house and its forecourt, muffling any sound from
the surrounding countryside. Sir Andrew found his excitement strangely
increased by this walk between the garage and his friend's house. He had
never before been taken this way, arms and hands bound, mouth gagged, out
into open. He entertained an image of himself as a prisoner in a romance,
being marched to some unknown fate, as he and the other two men walked
toward the house, their steps crunching on the dry gravel. He found he
could not help himself, and, although his real fear had disappeared, he
tugged at Gregory's grip on his arm and tried to shout into his gag, as if
he were trying to escape.
	"Mmmmmph!" Muggummmmmpht!"
	He felt his already stiff sex stir inside his trousers at the sound
of his own gag-muffled cries. Real escape was the farthest thing from his
desire, but to play at it increased his already stiff excitement. As
Gregory turned to look at him, an amused smile on his handsome face, the
big chauffeur seized Sir Andrew by his bound arms from behind. Gregory
stepped close in front of him.
	"Mmmmmph! Mmmmmmm!!" He grunted again into his gag.
	Gregory grinned and then nodded at Riley, and the two frog-marched
their captive, still struggling uselessly and grunting into his gag, into
the house. At Gregory's indication, they forced the struggling Sir Andrew
up the stairs and into Gregory's bedroom. At the sight of Wallis on the
bed, Sir Andrew abruptly stopped his insincere struggles and stood
staring. Wallis had turned onto his side as the three men entered the room.
	Gregory looked from Sir Andrew to Wallis and then at Riley. He
raised an eyebrow at the latter, who gave him a cheeky looking grin in
return. Leaving Sir Andrew in the grip of the chauffeur's big hands,
Gregory crossed to the bed. He leaned over and released Wallis from the
hog-tie in which he had lain for the past half-hour and helped his old
manservant to sit upright on the side of the bed. Then he beckoned, and
Riley led Sir Andrew over and sat him on the bed beside the trussed and
gagged Wallis.
	Sir Andrew did not know quite what to think. The sight of Gregory's
manservant lying helpless on the bed like that had taken him by shocked
surprise, but he was even more shocked by his own reaction. Now he stared
avidly at the older man, who looked back at him with a stoic calm. Sir
Andrew saw that the fellow was really bound only lightly, his hands trussed
behind his back by the silken tie from Gregory's robe. The gag, however,
looked very massive and brutal. It was clear that Wallis' jaws were forced
wide apart by what was a really large wad of handkerchieves. The double
bindings of silk handkerchieves, the white and the black, were pulled with
merciless severity over the old fellow's mouth, forming a cruelly snug seal
from nose to chin and strained back into what had to be painfully tight
knots at the base of his skull.
	The sight of the old fellow so cruelly gagged excited Sir Andrew
more than he wanted to admit to himself, so much so that he was unable to
look away. He found himself examining the gag over and over, thinking
obsessively about how effective such a gag must be, even more effective
than his own. He realized that he was hoping that he would be gagged in
like fashion himself. Finally he tore his gaze away from the older man's
big gag and tried to concentrate on what might be about to happen.
	Riley and his employer stood looking down at the two bound and
gagged men. Gregory, at least, was well aware of his friend's fascination
with his servant's massive gag, and he was already planning to make sure
the fellow experienced such a gag first hand before another hour passed. He
felt his own sex, stiff all this while from the excitement of having Sir
Andrew trussed and gagged and in his gentle power this way, stir strongly
at the idea of forcing a yet more cruel and more effective gag on the
handsome man before him than the one he was now muffled by. But first he
wished to accomplish his new idea.
	"What do you think of Wallis, here, Riley?"
	Riley looked at his employer with some puzzlement. "I'm not sure
what you mean, sir." He paused, and then went on, in a shy way that was
rather charming in so big a man, "I've always admired him, sir, if that's
what you mean. He's a true gentleman's gentleman, sir, and .. " He paused,
and then went on, "and a handsome old fellow, as well."
	Gregory nodded. "Very true."
	Riley grinned, still looking shy. He glanced down at where Wallis
sat on the side of the bed, trussed and gagged. "He looks good all tied up
and muzzled like that, too."
	Gregory nodded again. "Doesn't he? and he is very well gagged,
Riley, very well gagged indeed." He turned to look down at his
manservant. "Are you not, Wallis?"
	Wallis nodded. "Ummm hmmmmph."
	Gregory frowned in mock severity. "Come, man, try a little harder."
	Obediently, Wallis did. The three others watched as he took a deep
breath and then tried to yell through his big gag.
	"Hmmmph. Gmmmmm."
	The cocks of all four men stiffened further at those pathetically
muffled sounds. Even Gregory was surprised at how little noise his
manservant could make through the huge gag he himself had stuffed and bound
into the fellow's mouth.
	"Well, Riley, I thought you might like to know that my loyal man
here let me know two secrets he has kept hidden from me for a long time."
	Riley looked from the gagged and bound man in front of him to his
employer and then back.
	Gregory said quietly. "Wallis here has always longed to be bound
and gagged, aggressively and very, very thoroughly, especially gagged, by
another man. And he would most especially like the man who binds him and
then gags him, as cruelly and effectively as that man knows how, to be
you."
	Riley looked down at Wallis for a moment, a musing expression on
his face. Then he turned to Gregory. "Might we two, Wallis and me, be
excused for the rest of the morning, sir?"
	Gregory nodded.
	Riley immediately bent down and took up Wallis in his arms. He did
not hoist him to his shoulder, however, as he had carried Sir Andrew, but
instead took him up across his chest, as one might carry a child, and
indeed, the little man looked almost like a child against the massive
Riley's broad chest. Riley grinned down at the older man.
	Speaking as if the other two men were not there, he addressed the
man in his arms tenderly. "I promise you this, my old friend. The gags will
be very cruel, mayhap even crueler than that one in your mouth this moment,
for I love to gag men and to gag them very well indeed, but it's only the
gags and the ropes that will be cruel, not me." He tightened his grip on
the fellow, who lay staring up at him, his eyes burning in their fierce
intentness above his gag. Then, with a final nod to their employer, Riley
left the room, bearing his fellow servant off to his own quarters.
	Both Gregory and Sir Andrew watched them go, Gregory with fondness,
Sir Andrew with fascinated interest. Sir Andrew, indeed, stared at the door
they had passed through for several minutes, allowing his mind, to his
embarrassment, to follow them, and imagining the big chauffeur tenderly
forcing the older man to take a yet bigger gag into his mouth. He was
startled out of his reverie by Gregory's voice.
	"Now," said quietly, "I'm not quite so big as Riley, but ..." and
as he spoke, he pushed the momentarily unresisting Sir Andrew flat on his
back and lifted his legs up onto the bed, "I intend to be just as tender
and just as cruel with you, my friend."
	Sir Andrew stared up at the other man, a mixture of responses in
his mind. He found himself lying acquiescently as Gregory, taking a couple
of lengths of rope from inside his coat, rebound his legs securely at the
knees and at the ankles. Then, as the trussed and muzzled Sir Andrew
watched from the bed, Gregory crossed to his dresser, took a big stack of
his own white handkerchieves and a couple of large deep red silks from the
top drawer, and returned. He sat down on the side of the bed and leaned
over his captive friend, supporting his weight on left arm on the far side
of Sir Andrew. His posture brought his face very close to his prisoner's
face, and the two men looked into each other's eyes for a long moment.
	Gregory was immensely aroused. The excitement of being himself
bound and gagged for most of the night had been assuaged in part by his
massive climax with Wallis, but the over-arching arousal he had felt all
night and felt even more now was in response to having his handsome and
silk handkerchieved friend, Sir Andrew, trussed and gagged and at his mercy
in this fashion. He had imagined having the man helpless, secured and
silenced, from almost the moment he had met him, and to have him now as he
had so longed to have him raised his desire to the pitch of intensity. He
stared down at the helpless man beneath him, relishing his good looks, his
dandified dress, his bound helplessness, and above all his gagged
silence. With an almost hesitant hand, he began to caress the man. He
stroked the fellow's dark hair gently, and then, pausing, he cupped the
side of his face, swathed in the tight bandage of white silk, and looked
into his prisoner's eyes.
	For his part, Sir Andrew did not know quite what he felt. His fear
was long forgotten, and if he had felt any real anger at his treatment, it
too was long gone. For the moment, even his fascination with Riley's and
Wallis' tender agreement was absent from his thoughts. He found himself
looking up with a strange mixture of emotions at Gregory. He was still, not
in fear of what had been done with him, but in fear of the man himself. Not
that the fellow would deliberately hurt him. But that he himself might not
be worry of the man's attentions. He suffered still from his nagging worry
that he had nothing to offer a man he regarded as so handsome and so much
more accomplished than himself. At the same time, he felt an aching hope
that Gregory would not have staged such an elaborate charade of kidnapping
him as he had last night if he did not feel, well, something surely, for
him? He was almost as glad for the gag that filled his mouth because it
prevented him from begging for the reassurance he longed for as he was glad
for the other, less explicable reasons he knew so well.
	For he loved being bound and he loved being gagged and he loved
even more knowing that Gregory had bound him and Gregory had stuffed and
bound the gag into his mouth. He knew that Gregory intended on gagging him
yet more strictly and strenuously, and he loved that knowledge and he
anticipated the deed with fear and deep desire. He felt a tentative and
hesitant joy in supposing that the man hovering so closely above him might
desire to bind and gag him, his very self, as much as he desired to be
bound and gagged by this very man. He stared up into the other man's eyes,
filled with fear and hope and desire.
	Gregory sat upright and looked down seriously at his captive. Then
with a slight frown, he reached behind the man's head. Sir Andrew felt the
knot in the silk handkerchief that had bound his huge gag into his mouth
for the last few hours loosen, and then the silk bandage fell away. Then
Gregory freed the tight cinch of the handkerchief that cleaved the wad into
Sir Andrew's mouth. Then, with gentle fingers, Gregory reached in and
slowly drew the big gag of handkerchieves from his friend's mouth. Sir
Andrew felt a physical relief at having the cruel gag withdrawn, but he
felt a sinking of the heart. He knew that he did not really want to be
ungagged, not yet certainly, and in his wilder imaginings, not ever. He
looked up at the other man, and the other saw a strange sadness in the
fellow's face that he was hesitant to decipher.
	For a long moment, the two simply looked at each other. Slowly
then, Gregory bent close. He hesitated, and then he kissed his friend on
the mouth. After a second of surprise, Sir Andrew responded hungrily,
pressing up as much as he could, bound with the tight ropes as he still
was. Their kiss was long, and hard. Gregory deliberately pressed his moist
tongue over his friend's teeth and tongue and the insides of his mouth,
exploring sensually while at the same time giving the man back some of the
moisture he had lost to the cruel gag. Then he broke the kiss. Sir Andrew
tried to follow his lips with his, but he had to fall back, defeated by his
bonds. Gregory smiled down at him, and then kissed him again, again
prolonging the contact and feeding his friend with moisture from his own
mouth. At last he drew back once more.
	Sir Andrew looked up at him, feeling stricken. While Gregory had
kissed him, he had felt sure of the man's continued desire. Now, when he
pulled back, doubt pained him again. He felt a terrible fear as he saw
Gregory about to speak.
	"I want to tell you something," Gregory said softly.
	Sir Andrew simply stared.
	"I want to tell you that you are free to go."
	Sir Andrew felt a sharp pain in his chest. Without thinking, he
blurted out, "But ... I don't want to."
	Gregory looked down at him. He had been frowning, but now he half
smiled. "If I untied you?"
	Sir Andrew looked at him, his eyes dark with doubt. "Do you want
to?"
	Gregory shook his head. "What I want to do is ... but what I want
you to know is, you can leave. I won't stop you. If you wish me to, I will
untie you. But if you stay ..." his voice trailed off, and he gave a smile
that was almost sad.
	"If I stay?"
	"I'll will surely find myself gagging you so tenderly and so
cruelly that you will not be able to make a sound as I make love to you the
way I have wanted to do for months and months."
	Sir Andrew's eyes closed, and he smiled. Then his eyes opened.
	"Please, gag me, Reginald." It was the first time he had ever used
Gregory's christian name.
	Gregory stared at him for a long moment.
	Then he slowly mounted the bed and straddled the other man where he
lay bound and looking up at him, his eyes wide and strained.
	"It's what you want?"
	"Oh god, yes!"
	Gregory swallowed. Then he took up his handkerchieves from where
they lay on the bed and began to prepare a gag. He used his friend's broad
chest, opening handkerchief after handkerchief and laying them flat, until
he had layered three of the big squares of white linen together. Then he
rolled the thick square of cloth in upon itself, forming a huge ball of
soft cloth.
	Sir Andrew watched with a fascinated gaze as Gregory prepared that
gag for his mouth. He was a little frightened, but he was far more
aroused. The precum had long ago soaked through his underwear into the
crotch of his dress trousers. His cock lifted and strained in the confines
of the damp cloth. He watched as Gregory took up that big wad and bent
close over him, cupping the back of his head in his other hand.
	"I'm going to gag you, now, Andrew, really gag you."
	"Yes!" Sir Andrew started to say, but it came out only as
"Yugummmmmmph!" for Gregory immediately thrust the ball of soft
handkerchieves into his mouth, forcing the great mass in deep. Sir Andrew
stared up into his friend's face as that gag was shoved between his jaws,
packing his mouth completely and solidly full from far back between his
teeth to his distended lips. He had never been gagged like this, and he
gave himself up to being gagged at the hands of this man he so desired. He
realized that Gregory's using his own big pocket handkerchieves to gag him,
to stuff his mouth, to muzzle and silence him, increased his arousal
many-fold. To have the man gag him with his own handkerchieves made him
feel somehow more possessed by him, and that to belong to the man, be taken
and owned by him, was what he longed for. He pushed himself up into the gag
as Gregory stuffed it into his mouth, and he moaned into the huge wad of
handkerchieves.
	"Mmmmmmmmmmmph!"
	For a moment, Gregory paused, his hand clamped over Sir Andrew's
gagged mouth, the thumb and the fingers on either side of his handsome
nose, his palm pressed close over his lips, the edge of his hand brushing
his firm chin.
	Then he took his hand away and picked up one of the deep maroon
silk handkerchieves and he folded the huge square of heavy silk twill into
a thick roll. He pressed the middle between Sir Andrew's distended jaws,
against the thick wad of the gag. He rammed the roll back between his
friend's teeth, and wrapped the long ends behind the fellow's head to pull
them into as tight a knot as he could manage. The tight cinch of the silk
handkerchief was drawn back into the big gag, pressing it into two thick
lobes on either side of itself. The thick roll creased the man's bearded
cheeks, which bulged out from its merciless clinch.
	Smiling at Sir Andrew, Gregory took two more of his big white
handkerchieves and opened and layered them as he had the others, forming a
slightly smaller wad. To Sir Andrew's astonishment, and deep, aching
arousal, Gregory forced that second soft wad into the man's mouth, working
it between his teeth and in front of the tightly constricted cinch of the
silk handkerchief. Then he took up the second handkerchief of deep maroon
silk, and he folded diagonally into a wide bandage. Bending close over Sir
Andrew, he bound the handkerchief over the man's mouth, pressing the thick
middle in a tight seal from the man's nose to his chin, pressing hard and
then harder still, forcing the gag in deeper and making the handkerchief
into a flat, taut band stretched hard over his solidly packed mouth. He
folded the wide wings back over the helpless man's bearded cheeks and
pulled them yet tighter. Sir Andrew groaned faintly into the brutal gag,
staring up in agonized desire and arousal at the man who was so cruelly
gagging him. Gregory drew the ends of the handkerchief into a knot, tying
it as tightly as he could possibly manage, pulling the ends tight over and
over before he twisted them into the final fastening.
	Sir Andrew stared up at him, groaning softly into the gag. He tried
to make us much sound as he could, but all that he could force past the
smothering wads of handkerchieves that filled his mouth was a faint moan.
	"Mmmmm. Hmmmmm. Gulmmmmmmmt."
	Gregory stared down at the other man. His blue eyes were narrowed,
and his handsome face wore an expression of strained arousal, and yet there
was a tenderness in the smile on his lips that reassured Sir Andrew. Slowly
the other man lowered himself down beside his bound companion, slipping his
arms behind him and pulling him close. He stared into the other man's eyes.
	"Your mine now, aren't you, my lord?" His voice was soft,
caressing, slightly mocking, and yet tender. "My big fop of a lord, aren't
you?"
	Sir Andrew nodded.
	"Ummph hmpht." He struggled to make his surrender known through his
cruel gag.
	Gregory smiled and closed his eyes. He began to caress the other
man, slowly moving his hands up to his neck and throat, his thick hair, his
silk-swathed cheeks, then down again, across his sides, along his tightly
bound arms. He stroked the other man with a kind of lazy contentment,
savoring the time. He had this handsome, willingly surrendered man in his
arms now, in his arms and trussed with rope and gagged with his
handkerchieves. He smoothed his hands over the man, feeling the strong
muscles of the fellow's shoulders and back beneath the brushed broadcloth
of his dress coat. He ran his thumb gently along the man's strong, bearded
jaw, below the tight swath of the silk handkerchief. He tweaked the tails
of the knots in the handkerchieves binding up the man's mouth over his huge
gag, and he ruffled up the thick hair at the back of the man's head.
	At last, he pulled away a little and opened his eyes. With a sly
smile under his brows at Sir Andrew, he gently tugged at the big
handkerchief of paisley silk puffed so foppishly in the man's chest pocket.
	"Such a big dandy, aren't you?" he murmured. "Such a handsome
fop. You know you're handsome, don't you, my lord, and you dress to show
yourself off, don't you?"
	Sir Andrew looked down in shy embarrassment in response to the
other man's gentle teasing.
	Gregory let his hands slip further down between them, and he
caressed the man's firm belly, grinning wickedly at the other man. Sir
Andrew looked up at him and his eyes widened and then narrowed.
	"Mmmmmmmph. Mugummmmmmmmph." The bound and gagged man strained at
his bonds and moaned into his brutal gag. His eyes pleaded with the other
man.
	Gregory winked and slipped his hands lower. Gently he pushed his
fingers between the other man's legs and pressed his swollen groin.
	"Mmmmmmmmph." Sir Andrew groaned into his gag.
	"Like that, do you?" Gregory murmured. "Hmmmmm?"
	Sir Andrew moaned again into his gag and strove to push his
privates against the other man's exploring fingers.
	Gregory suddenly raised his eyebrows in a wicked smile, and then he
pushed himself abruptly lower on the bed, at the same time rolling Sir
Andrew over onto his back. Looking up at the other man over his belly, he
pressed his mouth over the crotch of the man's dress trousers, breathing in
the smell of his precum while he blew his own warm breath onto the damp
cloth.
	Sir Andrew writhed in his bonds and moaned into his huge gag.
	After a moment, Gregory slowly eased open the buttons of Sir
Andrew's fly, and he reached inside gently. He let his fingers just
palpitate the other man's swollen cock, barely touching the tender flesh.
	"Mmmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmpht."
	Sir Andrew moaned into his gag and tried to press his privates into
the other man's hand.
	Gently, Gregory responded, taking the stiff cock into his grasp and
pushing and pulling. He left the stiff member inside the man's trousers for
a moment while he tenderly caressed the hardened flesh and then, taking
pity on the other man, he slowly drew the man's prick free.
	Sir Andrew gave a cry of something like anguish into his muffling
gag and jerked and struggled in his bonds. He was, after the long night,
almost to the brink of his climax. Gregory hurriedly got up and knelt on
the bed astraddle his bound and gagged companion. He reached into his hip
pocket and dragged out a huge white pocket handkerchief. Watching the other
man, who lifted his head slightly to stare back at him, and who moaned
softly into his gag, Gregory hastily undid his own fly and pulled out his
own swollen cock. It was standing straight up, its tip red with arousal and
a thick stream of precum oozing from the hole. He shook open his
handkerchief and then he thrust his own groin down against his watching
companion's. Pressing their two cocks together, he wrapped them in the huge
square of heavy white linen. He began to pump their cocks against each
other inside the sheath of soft cloth.
	"Mmmmmmpht! Mugummmmmpht!" Sir Andrew fell back against the bed. He
writhed from side to side in the tight ropes that bound him, and he moaned
and grunted into his tight and smothering gag.
	"That's my lord, that's my fop, yes, come on, my handsome one, come
on!" Gregory urged his companion as he rubbed their cocks with greater and
greater vigor. Suddenly, Sir Andrew's eyes rolled back in his head, his
bound torso jerked up in a taut arch, and he gave a strangled cry into his
gag.
	"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmgggggggummmmmmph!!!"
	"Yes!" Gregory said in a hoarse whisper and flung his head back as
his own climax overtook him. He groaned, still managing to stare down at
his bound and gagged companion even as his climax jolted up to his head. He
groaned once more and then slumped down. For a moment, he was still and
then slowly he sank forward to lie over Sir Andrew. For long moments, the
two men lay there, the only sounds Gregory's deep breathing, and the noises
Sir Andrew made, sobs that were smothered and half choked by his huge
gag. At last, Gregory looked up, and then moved to bend close over the
other man. Tenderly, with a slow smile, he began to kiss away the tears
that lay wet on the other man's cheeks.
	SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Sir Andrew stood in his friend's--no, now his
lover's--study, looking out over the garden. He was bathed, shaven, and
dressed in a clean suit of clothes brought over by Wallis. There was a look
of intense concentration on his handsome features, and it was doubtful if
he saw the beauty of the late fall afternoon outside the glass. He turned
and glanced when Gregory came into the room, and gave his lover a brief
smile, but he turned and continued to stare out the window as the other man
approached.
	Gregory put his arms around the other man from behind. He held his
right hand in front of his lover's face. There was a huge wad of soft white
cloth in his fingers; Sir Andrew recognized it with an inward tremble as a
huge handkerchief gag, meant, he knew, for his own mouth.
	"That's for later," Gregory said softly, as he slipped the big wad
inside his lover's coat and tucked it down into an inner pocket. "To stuff
your mouth, my lord, my friend, my so handsome lover," he murmured into the
other man's ear, "to gag you," and he put a deep emphasis, a stress that
made his pleasantly resonant voice seem almost to purr as the said the word
"gag." "I have some nice hanks of rope in my pockets, and several big silk
handkerchieves, and there is a tree I have a fondness for on the walk I
intend us to take this afternoon," he went on, in a low, matter of factly
friendly tone, as if he were discussing a tourist sight he wished his
friend to enjoy, and not the spot where he intended to bind him as tightly
this side of real pain as he could and to gag him as strictly as he knew
how.
	Sir Andrew turned slowly to face the other man. They were almost of
a height and he looked up only a trifle into his friend and lover's bright
blue eyes.
	"What I want to hear you tell me is, how did you know?"
	Gregory smiled. "How did I know what?"
	Sir Andrew frowned. "Don't be dense, Gregory. You know what I
mean."
	"Do I?"
	Sir Andrew gave his lover a hard squeeze, half love, half
exasperation.
	"Please don't tease me."
	Gregory looked at him closely. His smile lingered under his thick
mustache, but he gazed at his companion with tender eyes.
	"You really want to know, don't you?"
	Sir Andrew nodded.
	Gregory sighed slightly. "Do you remember last Wednesday, when you
arrived a little early, and I was a little late coming down?"
	Sir Andrew thought for a moment and then a deep blush spread up his
cheeks above his thick beard. He looked suddenly most acutely embarrassed.
	Gregory smiled and said softy, "Evidently you do." He released his
lover and went to one of the shelves of books that lined three walls of the
room.
	"I came down a little earlier than you realized. You were reading
this book, I think it was," and he pulled the volume from the shelf. He let
it fall open of its own accord, which it did very readily. "It's one of my
favorites, and, as you see, it opens by itself, after many years of being
opened by me, to just this chapter." He held out the book, and Sir Andrew
took it absently. He only glanced at the page as Gregory went on.
	"I came in too quietly for you to hear, the first time. You were,
um, rubbing your groin, Andrew. Very sexy. But I was very
curious. Fortunately, when I faked my re-entry, you were too startled to
put the book back in its place. That told me almost everything I wanted to
know. Almost everything."
	Sir Andrew looked up at the other man. "What didn't it tell you?"
	Gregory smiled ruefully. "I knew you wanted to be bound and
gagged. But I didn't know if it was I you wanted to bind and gag you."
	Sir Andrew put down the book on a side table. Then he turned, and
with a wide smile, he took Gregory into his arms.
	"How could you ever have doubted it?" he murmured.

Copyright 2000 David W. Brown
Compliments, complaints: tugger049@yahoo.com