Share this Update

25 photos; 2:37 video

Roger had made himself at home.  He had just been initiated into the fraternity.  Hard hell week.  Worst last night in his life:  stripped naked, tightly roped to a chair, tape gagged, the amusement of the frat brothers – basically tortured.  He tried to endure it but he had almost gone mad.  Roger was terrified of being confined, and roped and gagged was his worst nightmare. He arms still had the ropeburn of his struggles and his throat was still sore from his gagged screams as he endured the torments. 

He was the only person in the frathouse, and he made his way to the president’s office.  The computer was on, turned into some sicko site. Roger gasped in horrid anger and shame:   there were pictures of him, helplessly tied up from the hell night, on the site.  “Those bastards must have taken pics of me and sold them to this sicko gay site,” Roger thought.  His anger increased so much that he did not hear the president and three of the brothers return.  “Not nice to look at somebody’ computer without their permission.”  Roger wanted to complain, when the four of them jumped him.  Pinned down and helpless against the odds, Roger knew he was defeated.  “We’ll beat the shit out of you unless you relax!”  Roger relaxed his muscles and he sat back into the chair.  “You bring a lot of money in the tie up pic community.  So, boy, we’ll split it with you.  Relax for a roping.”
 
Roger could not believe he agreed.  He needed money bad and so relaxed his arms down the sides of the chair as the four brothers began to tie him up. 
 
When they had finished their craft, Roger was helpless.  They seemed to know their craft well, he thought.  They had roped him in the same was as hell week, the new rope adding to the older rope burns.  He flexed his arms but they were fastened tight, down the sides of the chair, roped securely at the wrist, elbows and shoulder.  The ropes holding his chest were not too secure, but the tightness of his arms made up for that – besides, his arms were already numb from the elbow down.  His feet were tight to the back legs of the chair, just enough to cause small cramps in his hamstrings.  He tried to sit still, though within him his heart was racing a mile minute.  After shoving a rag down his throat, they taped gagged him.
“Get the camera ready!”  Roger watched as the brothers got the camera and began to photograph him.  “Struggle dude!”  Roger began to struggle a bit, but it was too fake.  “Struggle!”  Roger tried some more, but with numb arms and cramped hamstrings, his show sucked. 
 
“Make you struggle then dude.”  Roger looked as the frat brother got three tubes of ICY HOT, used for sports injuries.  “ICE HIM UP!”  That’s all it took.  Roger remembered the icy hot torture of hell week and struggled like a mad man.  He gasped and grunted and bucked and squirmed and moved the chair he was roped to all over the room.  The brothers taped his eyes, but his struggles became so violent that the tape blew off.  After 15 minutes, he was burnt out with exhaustion, his chest arms and face glistening with sweat.
 
“You make an excellent model,” the president stated.  “Relax a bit as we charge the batteries. I think we will get you ready for scene two.”
 
“Scene two?”  “Roger helpless accepted his arms retied, more rope tied to his chest, and being depantsed.  His eyes were correctly taped shit.  “Now we want loud gagged screams.”  Roger was exhausted.  He could not act any more.  He started to moan in complaint when he felt hands rubbing all over his body and the smell of ice hot on his face, arms, chest, belly and legs.  In no time Roger was acting: gagged screaming for scene two.