U. N. Known Writer

Coffee Morning

"Why is there a little boy tied up on my coffee table?" Max Oliver's mum asked, not unreasonably, as she went through the living room, to the kitchen with several bags of shopping.

"That's not a little boy that's Ollie," replied Max, from the toilet where he'd gone to do what a twelve year old does in there when he's finished getting sucked off by his tied up best friend.

"Is it?" Mrs. Oliver came back into the living room to stare at me, "Then why isn't he wearing any trousers. I don't want stains on the furniture again."

"He's wearing shorts." explained Max, ignoring the staining question which I for one was grateful for as I'd been the cause of the last ones and I wasn't entirely sure there wouldn't be stains this time either, despite the towel I was laying on.

Mrs. Oliver had to come further into the room and peer around the side of the table I was lying on to confirm that I was indeed wearing a pair of shorts that due to my hog tied position had ridden up expose not just all of my legs but a little bit of my hips as well. "Why?" she then asked her son.

"He likes too!" Max stated matter of factly.

"Right. Well he has got nice legs and it is nice out. Maybe you should…"

"Don't even think about it mum. I like wearing jeans." came the warning which would have made me laugh had I not been so tightly gagged.

Pulling a face that only mothers of young boys can manage, Mrs. Oliver had one more comment to say before she returned to the kitchen to finish putting the shopping in the cupboards. "I hope that's not the dog's ball you're using, as you know Dog doesn't like it."

It wasn't, and yes, in a startling show of lack of imagination the Oliver family called their somewhat scruffy Labrador, by the name of Dog. Since that had happened I'd always teased Max that he was pretty lucky not to have been called 'Boy'.

"We got a new ball," Max appeared behind his mother, "one that doesn't squeak, and anyway, Dog is out in the garden so he won't go mental like last time."

Dog was a lovely animal but even the Olivers would be the first to admit that he was no Lassie in the intelligence stakes. So that when he'd come across Max's clever use of his favourite rubber ball on a previous occasion he'd got more than a bit confused especially as he couldn't tell where the squeak was coming from which lead to him running around, knocking things over, whilst barking enough to annoy the neighbours.

It had actually been quite funny at the time, not that I had been able to laugh given that the ball, having been washed and then wrapped in an old hankie, had been pushed all the way into my mouth, so far that my lips actually closed around the front of it, but for where the ends of the hankie came out either side. Mrs. Oliver though, hadn't found it funny at all and still didn't even though Max and I had cleared up the puddles Dog's confusion had caused before she'd seen them.

"So I should think." she said, tutting her tongue before changing the subject like Mum's tend to do, "Is Ollie staying for tea?"

I shook my head, which was pretty much about the only part of me that I could move given the hog tie I was in, and which Max relayed to his mum.

"Well in that case why don't you let your friend go to your room before the chains scratch the coffee table. Again."

"They can't scratch it. They're behind Ollie's back."

It was true. My hands were cuffed together behind my back, while my legs had been bent up at the knees, fastened together with a set of short chained leg irons, and then a padlock had been threaded through the connecting chains of both the handcuffs and the leg irons, holding them all together level with my waist.

"Well, he might fall off and damage something that way."

Max raised his eyes for my benefit before answering: "He can't. He's strapped onto the table."

Indeed a wide seat belt style strap, usually used for holding luggage onto the roof of a car, had been fitted around both me and the narrow table, so Max was right there was no way I was going to be coming off that low table until he let me which was going to be pretty soon if his mum had anything to do with it. So Max headed off her next argument before she got to make it.

"We'll just watch some TV, if that's okay mum?" Max didn't wait for an answer, just going over and turning on the television, before coming back around me to leap himself into the soft embrace of the sofa. Picking up the remote from the arm he settled back for a quick bit of channel hoping before choosing an old war movie, at which point he leaned back and put his feet up on the coffee table beside where I remained immobile.

Now you're probably thinking that this is a fairly odd scene, and wondering why Max's mum didn't have more of a reaction to finding me tightly chained up in the living room, but trust me, in the Oliver house, this was all perfectly normal as Max loved tying people up and, I'd come to loved being tied up.

It had all started way back in Junior school when Max joined my class, even though he was slightly younger than all of us. The age difference was only about eighteen months, but when your age is counted in single figures that's a big deal so a lot of my class didn't want to hang around with 'the kid', but of course I was different, as I not only wanted to hang around with those younger than me I wanted to be one. Even back then.

Anyway that first day, Max went through the usual introductions and orienting stuff that new kids are put through by the teachers, all of which pretty much leave you feeling even more lost than if they'd left you alone to find your own way. That was when I made my move.

In a week I was his best mate, and we spent all of our time together which is how I found out that Max's grandfather had given him some handcuffs for his last birthday. Naturally I wanted to see them, as did most of the other boys in our class, although the girls clearly weren't impressed but then at that age none of us boys cared what the girls thought anyway. Fact is some of us still don't to be honest.

The day Max bought the handcuffs into school I met up with him a short distance from the school where there were already some other kids hanging around him, wanting to see the handcuffs, but Max had made them wait for me, as he'd promised me the first go with them, and boys that age just don't break promises to each other.

"Turn around, and I'll put them on you, Ollie," he said, so I did, and within a few seconds he had my wrists encased in the steel bands that despite the best efforts of everyone there, weren't about to come off without the key. Yet when Max offered to take them off I told him to leave them on. I'm not sure why I did. Perhaps I was just showing off to the other kids. Or that I wanted to raise Max's school status but, most likely I just liked the feeling of having my arms held helplessly behind my back.

It wasn't much of a walk to the school itself, but there was still around twenty minutes that I got to wear the handcuffs before Max got nervous and insisted that he take them off before a teacher spotted them and took them, but he did promise I could wear them again at lunchtime, which was fine with me.

Actually it was after lunch before I got to wear the handcuffs again, as obviously I couldn't have my arms behind my back in the canteen, as I wouldn't have been able to eat. Plus Max wanted us outside before he took them out of his pocket, and then only when we were by the bicycle sheds out of sight of the roaming teachers.

"Do you like being handcuffed?" He asked me, as he was clicking the metal rings tight around my slim wrists.

I didn't answer just shrugged my shoulders, as I really hadn't thought that much about it, although it was clear that I did. Clear enough to Max anyway, who then added that he liked handcuffing me.

That night, as we were walking out of class, Max asked me two questions. One was if I wanted to come to his house for tea in a couple of days, and the other was, that if I did then I could wear the handcuffs all the way home. Naturally I agreed to both.

For the next two days, I was handcuffed on the way to school, for short periods at lunch but not on the way home as there were always too many people around. Not until the day I went to Max's house for tea.

We waited until we were clear of the parents picking up the little kids from the infants school that shared space with the junior school we went to and then Max told me to put my hands behind my back, which of course I did, only for him to do something he hadn't done before.

"This will prevent you from escaping," he said as after snapping one cuff onto my right wrist he then threaded the other cuff and the chain underneath my belt, before fastening it around my left wrist. Naturally doing this meant that my hands were stuck up tight to the middle of my back, adding to the feeling I'd previously had about being restrained and helpless. A feeling that I was fast growing to rather like.

The walk to his house felt really strange, but neither of us said anything or did anything unusual about it. We just chatted about the school day and other things that were of interest to us back then, until we got to his house.

"I've got more stuff, you know?" Max mentioned as we went inside, "Want to see it?"

Of course I did, and Max was more than happy to oblige, racing upstairs to his room and coming down a second later with what looked like a second pair of handcuffs only with a much longer chain connecting the cuffs. "These are leg irons," he explained, "They go on your feet so you can't run away."

Sure enough a few minutes later and my ankles were locked in steel with just twelve inches [30 cm] of chain connecting them, which reduced how fast I could walk and made running totally out of the question.

"How does it feel to be all chained up like a real prisoner," asked Max,

"Strange." I answered honestly at which point he lowered his voice to ask his next question.

"Does it give you a stiffy?"

I didn't answer that, and thankfully Max didn't push the question anymore, although he did say that now I was prisoner that I had to go to jail?"

"What jail?"

"The one in my house." he said, leading me from the hall where we'd been standing, into the place where I was going to spend the rest of my visit and which turned out to be no where near as scary as I'd imagined.

It was the living room, and the prison cell turned out to be the sofa, where Max had me sit so we could watch the television, which wasn't quite my idea of jail, but was fun all the same, especially as I was chained up. Something that Max wasn't shy about noticing and mentioning.

"See I knew you'd enjoy it." he said during an advert break, my eyes following his down to my lap, where the front of my school trousers were being pushed upwards by my excitement. "I like it too." Max then added, sitting back and spreading his legs slightly so I could see that the front of his trousers was in exactly the same state as mine was.

Within seconds of Max mentioning it I found out just how maddening it was to have a stiffy while you are tied up and can do nothing about it. But I couldn't. I couldn't even hide the tent it was making, as I couldn't cross my legs, and of course my hands were behind my back. Not that I thought too much about doing that, until Mrs. Oliver turned up. Thankfully, Max then placed a cushion in my lap.

"Quick take the cuffs off, before she sees," I murmured to Max once he'd introduced me to his mum and vica versa.

"Don't worry about it," he said in his normal voice which alarm me somewhat, "Mum's used to it. I always had kids from my old school chained up."

Him saying that not only measured me, but put a lot of questions into my head, that I had more sense than to ask while an adult was in the room, although I made sure to ask all of them, at the next chance I got, along with a lot of others, that would eventually lead to my appearance chained into a hog tie on the coffee table. By that stage, the stiffies we both got were no longer something to be embarrassed about especially once Max started tying me up naked, whenever we got the chance. From there it was only a matter of time before things went further, and we started playing with each other. Then one day, as a naked Max leant over me to check the chains on my ankles, his stiffie, more or less, accidently went into my mouth, and we had something else to do while I was tied up.

Over the years since then, up until I was thirteen and Max was twelve, we'd done a lot more things, with the pair of us becoming rather imaginative in the ways I could be tied up, and what could happen once I was. These options opened up even further once Max started taking woodwork, metalwork, and even leatherwork at school, proving to be quite gifted with his hands both there and in the workshop he set up in the Oliver's garage. Naturally I was the recipiant of most of his hard work, but I repaied him each and every time he tied me up, although sucking him off right in the middle of the living room, when I was hog tied and strapped to the coffee table and his mum was due home any second from the shops, probably wasn't the best idea, although the rush of nearly getting caught really made Max blast in my mouth, as my own issue soaked into the towel beneath me.

The End