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29 photos; 4:27 video

 This was not going to help his career, Pierre thought. An up and comer in the football world, Pierre has aspirations of being the French David Beckham. Instead, he was tied up in someone’s living room.
It had started off innocently enough. He had been approached about doing some beef cake photos with the famous photographer Francois Rousseau. Rousseau had done wonders with Rugby players and now wanted to do the same for football. It could only help Pierre’s career, he was told. His fans would love him, especially the ladies. And it would all be very tasteful. He probably should have talked to his manager or his coach first but the photographer was in town for only a few hours. And it wouldn’t take very long.
  Pierre should have figured out something was wrong when the men insisted on driving him to the shoot in their car. When they took him to a small house on the outskirts of Paris, that should have made him suspicious Unfortunately, Pierre had never been renowned for his brains. He didn't’ figure out he was being taken until they tied his hands behind his back.
“You won’t get away with this!”, Pierre said defiantly, thus proving how really dense he was to his captors.
“Gag his mouth. I don’t want to hear his squealing” and a filthy sock was shoved into Pierre’s mouth. Pierre was not used to this kind of treatment and he stood up in protest. What exactly he planned to do with his hands tied up was unclear. All he accomplished was to get himself pushed down onto the couch. His feet were then tied at the ankles.

 Pierre twisted and strained against the ropes. Of all the days, this was the day of the game against Barcelona. Without him, Pierre’s team didn’t have a chance. He had told his coach and other players that often enough.
One of the men came over to Pierre, “Ok, here’s the deal. You’re team had better come up with ten million Euros or else thier star player isnt’ going to be helping them against Barcelona. You had better pray they pay up.” He then took a picture of Pierre with a cell phone and walked out fo the room.
Of course they would pay. Pierre was thier star player and worth ten times that much! He would have said so too but the snotty gag in his mouth made everything he said garbled and unintelligable.
“What do you mean you aren’t sure? Is he your best player or not?”, Pierre heard one of his nabbers shout in another room. What was going on?
The XXXXs came back in the room and one of them put the cell phone to Pierre’s ear.
“Pierre, is that you?”, Pierre could hear his coach ask on the other end.
“Mmmmmm!”, Pierre responded. Damn this gag! Pierre wanted to tell the idiot to hurry up and agree with what ever his XXXXs wanted. Pierre would have reminded his coach how the team couldn’t win without Pierre and his amazing talent. Instead he was reduced to mumbling into a sock.
“Don't’ worry Pierre. i am sure we will be able to get you out of his.. eventually.”
Eventually?!
  His coach continued, “It’s too late to get the money before the game. But Ignacio can take your place.” ..Ignacio that HACK!? The man could not be serious! “So you just hang tight. Oh sorry, i guess that’s a bit insensitive to say right now.”
The nabber then took the phone back and had a quick conversation with Pierre’s coach. When he hung up, he did not look happy.
“I can’t believe it! We grabbed the wrong guy. Ignacio DeLuis is thier star player, not this moron!”
Pierre was gripped by outraged and tried leaping at his captors again. Of course, al he managed to do was fall off the couch. Pierre wasn’t as graceful tied up as he was on the field.
“Hog tie his dumb ass. I am getting tired of him forgetting he’s bound and gagged and not supposed ot be jumping around.”
  As ordered, the other XXXX had Pierre ina tight hog tie. Now no matter how much he tried to move, he wouldn't’ get more then a few inches.
The XXXXs turned on the radio.
“You’d better hope that your team loses.”, one of the men said.
But Pierre’s team didn't’ lose. They whipped Barcelona’s ass. and Ignacio scored multiple goals.
“What do we do now? They won’t pay as much as we want if this isn’t thier star player?”, one of the man asked his partner.

The other nabber thought for a moment. “This jack off may not be as indispensable an athlete as we thought. But he is well built, a cute piece of ass and as bright as a chunk of coal. I know a guy in Asia who would pay well for a boy toy like that.”
“Mmmmmmm!”, Pierre shook his head violently in protest for al the good it did,
“Now, for shipping we will need two rolls of saran wrap, several rolls of duct tape and a large box.”

At this point, Pierre was absolutely certain that David Beckham never had to deal with stuff like this.