Adrian’s Farm – Chapter 2 (Getting Phil)
Tyler and I left the room where our buddy lay struggling against his bonds, knowing his exertions would turn out rather unsuccessful. The plan was to subdue the four initiators (preferably one by one) in order to materialize our payback. The next boy to take was Phil, Adrian’s little brother. We wondered whether he was still sleeping in one of the rooms and went out looking for him.
There was only one problem: the house was huge, mind-boggingly extensive; its architecture comprised of several corridors intertwined in a most luxurious labyrinth whose walls were decorated with all sorts of medieval armors in between countless doors, and paintings that make you wonder why they’re not in some prestigious museum.
“We’ve gotta find him, and fast.” I knew what Tyler meant. Adam and Chris had been summoned by Adrian and it would be better if they didn’t surprise us unprepared. Tyler had indeed visited Adrian and Phil before, but he got to know only Adrian’s bedroom – and sometimes even got lost!
We rushed like ghosts through the dark-green corridors, rope and duct-tape in hand, clueless as to which one would be the right room. Not much had passed when I glanced left and stopped at a massive linoleum door with a contrasting ivory carved sign on it, the letters apparently from a 12-year-old boy: Phil.
“Well, that was easy,” I observed.
“Nick! Keep it quiet. We don’t know if their parents are here,” Ty whispered.
He checked the door, eager to break in. It was unlocked. Tyler grinned back at me, turned slowly the knob and entered. The area had as only poor source of illumination a dim lamplight over the single bed, giving it a sinister aspect, however enough to make out several t-shirts, shoes and worn-out socks scattered all over a carpeted floor. I followed him and smoothly moved across until we reached a bed where Phil slept profoundly on. Yes! We have him. He rested on his back, one arm over his stomach, another above his head and one leg bent up. There was much resemblance to his brother; over the soft childish face, covered with disheveled light blond locks of hair, the lamp poured its light leaving the boy’s clear skin even whiter. He was only clad in a blue t-shirt and white briefs, lean hairless legs exposed and the blanket left aside perhaps due to the increasing heat or stimulating dreams. My heart pounced as we prepared our assault, mimicking and whispering the moves we were to perform.
On impulse, I ripped a large strip of tape and placed it tightly over Phil’s small reddened lips, my hand pressed on top. I knew this wasn’t effective, but it would keep him quiet for the time being (and it looked great too!). He duly awaked in great astonishment squirming on response, but we had him already turned over and Tyler was tying his crossed wrists expertly by the time Phil started kicking him. That gave me no choice but to sit on his butt, grab his lean feet, wrap them in a white coil of rope and cinch his ankles. Tyler had just finished binding his hands and elbows together when I came up with an idea. I fetched a longer rope, tied one end to the ankles, pulled up above his head and secured it to the headpost; another cord was attached to the bound wrists, pulled down as much as it would go back between his legs, tied it off to the opposite side of the bed. We stepped back and admired pleasantly our little prisoner, in this funny new position. He had his bound feet hanging above his butt while his flexible arms were straightened back and lashed to the opposite post, arching his back greatly in a rather uncomfortable predicament.
We gave Phil some time to test his bonds before letting him know what was going on (weren’t we evil or what?). They held but were not excessively tight, allowing him to struggle at his will. In a matter of minutes he was drenched in perspiration and breathing heavily, looking at us with pleading green eyes.
“Mpppphhhhhhh, mppppph,” he said through his gag. There was a distressing look on his face. Tyler then noticed that the layer of duct tape was peeling off and decided to produce a more effective one. I turned on the lights, grabbed the first sock I found and handed it to Ty. He prepared to shove it into our buddy’s mouth but I stopped him.
“Wait… I want him to taste the same gag he gave me,” I said and rummaged inside the closet. Phil mphhed loudly as I displayed a black rubber ball to him – maybe the same one used in our initiation - and slipped it inside the long green sock.
“We’re going to give you a chance to speak, but if you dare to scream for help…,“ Tyler paused and made him giggle by slightly brushing his fingertips over the boy’s soles, “you’re gonna pay”. Poor Phil nodded vigorously and I removed half of the tape covering his mouth.
“Nick, Tyler, I’m really sorry…please let me go…, I – mphhhhfff,” he started begging but I handgagged him.
“Speak only if you’re told to, got it?” he nodded his assent and I withdrew my hand.
“Is there anyone home besides Adrian?”
“No. My Dad’s coming around ten though, to pick us up,” he answered somewhat frightened.
“Great,” I muttered.
“Let’s check on Adrian. He must be thirsty. Now, if you open wide like a good boy we’ll be fair with you when it’s torture time.”
“No… please…” He had this pitiable voice that made your eyes watery just by hearing it. Absolutely pathetic.
“Open!” I demanded.
Phil obeyed, shyly opening his lips, and I forced the balled sock far beyond his teeth, eliciting a cry as it opened his jaw wide and thus smothered any attempt of complains. Tyler took the pillow and used its pillowcase to wrap it around Phil’s head, securing the gag.
“There you go! Isn’t that comfy?” I stood and patted his head.
“Don’t worry, no one will see you all tied up.”
Without further explanations as to what we would do with him when we returned – or if we would return at all! – we left. Tyler removed the key from the door. We stepped outside the room, closing slowly the door as we saw Phil wriggle, and locked it.
On the stroll back to Adrian’s room, we heard the familiar muffled sounds of a gagged person trying to cry for help. At first, we thought someone had arrived and found him. We prepared to jump on whoever was tickling him but then we saw most unusual thing. It turned out we had left the door open, so Adrian’s dog – a cub Cocker - jumped on the bed and started licking his helpless toes relentlessly for almost 20 minutes! We just couldn’t stop laughing, it was hilarious! Adrian in his desperate hogtie wiggled and laughed his head off until we finally put the dog outside and removed his gag. He just rested his head as drops of sweat ran down his reddened face from his short blonde hair. Exhaustion and embarrassment were printed on the boy’s face.
“It’s not funny! Stop laughing!”
Even though Adrian was truly angry, I felt an urge and produced a feather I tickled him with.
“Hahahahahaha-stop, noooooooooo!”
Just when Tyler and I attacked his bare skin on his ribs, there was a knock on the door. I instantaneously clamped both of my hands over Adrian’s mouth to prevent him from alerting whoever was outside.My mind was racing. I glanced at Tyler who made his best to imitate Adrian, since he had a low pitch voice.
“Who is it?” He tried.
“Adam. C’mon, let me in.”
“Sure, just a sec!” Tyler smirked, picked up a coil of rope and headed towards the door while I re-gagged Adrian and joined him.