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BOB

I work in a bookstore. It's not your usual B Dalton's. We sell what you would probably call used books, only the books we sell are more like what silly posh car-dealers call "pre-owned". The books we sell are used, but they're also rare and expensive. The store itself is in downtown Seattle, a little shop tucked into the ground floor of a turn-of-the-century building, all elegant brass and glass and polished wood. The books are almost as polished, since we don't sell anything but either very old books that are usually bound in leather or modern first editions. And we're polished, too. My boss and I dress, and I mean dress. No scruffy blue jeans and t-shirts, not even dockers and Eddie Bauer. I dress in a suit or a sprotsjacket and tie every day, often with a vest, and always with a silk handkerchief puffed in my chest pocket like a dandy, and my boss dresses just the same.

I'm not complaining, mind you. I love old books, but I'm not so keen on dirt and dust. One of my jobs is to make sure the stock is kept neatly shelved and clean, We have a fellow who comes in every night to do the real cleaning in the store, but he never touches the books. I do that. I suppose there's something a little odd about a forty-four year old fellow elegantly dressed up in suit with a dandy silk in his breast pocket polishing the dust off a shelf of old leather books, but that's how it is and that's what I do. Only sometimes, of course. I'm responsible for a lot more than that, but I won't bore you with the details of my work, except to say that I'm usually the one to deal with the customers, unless they're after something very rare and very expensive indeed; then, my boss takes over. Mostly, however, he leaves the selling to me.

That was what he did last week, telling me that a Mr Kirkpatrick would be at 4 in the afternoon to look at some copies of local history. I've learned not to expect our customers to conform to any type. I never know what sort will walk through our doors, with or without an appointment. Mr Kirkpatrick, when he arrived promptly at four, was not a surprise, but he was a pleasant sight. He was not a tall man, perhaps five eight or nine, but he was trim and well-built, about fifty, with balding gray hair, a rather magnificent gray handlebar mustache, and friendly blue eyes. He was dressed as dandifiedly as I was, in a well-cut, three-piece suit of navy serge, a pale blue shirt, and a navy silk tie foularded with black, white, and yellow florets. A white silk handkerchief thrust up and out from his breast pocket in a big, and I mean big, triangular puff. He had a deep voice, educated, with a touch of a Scots accent. Altogether, a very interesting man.

I got the impression during our half hour of time together that he on his part found me not completely uninteresting. I suppose I'm not bad. I keep trim with regular work-outs at the local Y, I've kept my hair, though it's going gray (becomingly, I'm told), and I have a strong chin, a thick mustache, and rather intensely blue eyes. Evidently, Mr Kirkpatrick thought I was attractive, since he brushed against me time and again while I showed him the volumes he had asked about. You will think me a fool, naturally, and I could not blame you, but I did nothing about what I sensed was a mutual attraction. In fact, my demeanor probably discouraged the man, since I tend to get stiff and shy with attractive fellows of his sort. Stupid, but there it is. I'm all right, even charming, my boss tells me, with the customers in general, but when it's a man like Mr Kirkpatrick, I still perform my job well, but my shyness takes over. At the end of the session, as he was departing, he promised to think over what I had shown him and make a decision on the titles he had asked me to set aside for him by the next day. I thought I sensed a certain wistfullness about his attitude, but I couldn't be sure, and my shyness prevented me from making any opening moves. I suppose it also prevented him from knowing if he should make a move or not himself. He left, and I regretted my imbecility. I told myself I would do better when he returned, if he did--customers not infrequently make promises they don't keep--but I knew I was as likely to go stiff and shy on the nest day as on the first. With a sigh, I turned to my work.

A new batch of books had arrived the previous day, and I was still entering them into our computer catalog. It was soon past time for ending the work day, but I told my boss I had only a few more to do to complete the project, and I stayed in the back room, working, after he shut up the shop and went home. It was after seven, on a cold and damp night, when I was nearly finished. I don't know what made me suddenly aware of the shop around me instead of my work. Some noise, some stirring in the air, something. I paused at the computer, my head up, listening. There was nothing to hear but the usual faint and distant sounds of the big city alive around me, nothing to hear in the shop, but I was still somehow uneasy. It was cool in the back office, and I had kept on my coat. I was wearing a favorite sports jacket of mine, fine gray wool tweed, with all patch pockets, charcoal gray trousers, a white shirt, and a light blue and darker blue rep-striped silk tie. Of course, I had a silk handkerchief in my breast pocket, a big affair of light blue marked off in squares by darker blue lines, arranged in a great dandy puff that swelled the patch pocket to bursting and showed in a thick, bulging lobe above the lip.

I rose and stood hesitating for a moment, puzzled at the intensity of my own unease. Then I shrugged and crossed the room. I stood in the doorway a moment, looking out into the dark shop. Then I stepped forward, peering among the dimlit rows of shelving. All was quiet, and there was nothing to be seen. I turned to re-enter the office and gave a gasp of fear and surprise as a bandanna-masked figure suddenly presented itself in front of me in the hallway. That was the last loud sound I made that evening. Even as I gasped, the figure in front of me reached up to stuff a huge wad of soft white cloth deep into my opened mouth, stifling my cry into a muffled grunt.

"Aauughummmmmph!"

Before I understood what was happening, I was seized from behind, the second attacker holding my arms in hard hands. In front of me the bandanna-masked man lunged forward to press a rolled handkerchief between my lips, forcing the big ball of soft cloth yet deeper into my mouth. Quickly wrapping the ends of the handkerchief around my head, he pulled them mercilessly tight and knotted them at the base of my skull. Frightened, almost panicked, I tried to yell.

"Mmmmmmugulmmmph! Mmmmmmmmuuummmph!"

I was astonished at how well the gag silenced me. In the meanwhile, my two attackers were already tying my hands behind me. I felt the bite of rope on my skin as the man behind me forced my wrists together and the other quickly secured them. Immediately I was spun and held while the second, I know saw, much taller and also bandanna-masked man used more rope to lash my arms to my sides, pulling the loops tightly around my chest and my upper arms above the elbows and tying the rope off with a hard knot. Despite my fear, I found myself realizing with astonishment that the man in front of me was very well-dressed in a suit and tie and that he had a big silk handkerchief lolling from his chest pocket in a great puff. The bandanna that masked his face looked strangely out of place.

I was not given time to ponder this thought. As soon as my arms were bound and despite my gag-muffled protests, I was pushed to the heavily carpeted floor. Tight coils of rope soon secured my legs at the ankles and the knees. At the same time, the man who had gagged me bent over my head. He, too, I now realized, was dressed in a suit and tie, a dark suit, and he had a big white handkerchief in a triangular puff lolling from his chest pocket. Taking a second big ball of what I assumed were white pocket handkerchiefs from his pocket, he stuffed the wad between my lips, filling the space in front of the handkerchief he had drawn so savagely tight through my mouth. He then used a bandanna, folded into a wide bandage, to seal up my mouth from nostrils to chin, pulling the thick band of cloth taut and tying the long ends behind my head in a painfully hard knot.

I lay on the floor, utterly helpless, dazed by the suddenness of the assault, the efficiency of my attackers, the ruthlessness of the ropes that bound me and of the handkerchief and bandanna gag that filled my mouth. I pulled uselessly at my bonds and tried to shout through the enormous gag.

"Mmmmmmmph! Mugulummmmmph!"

Above me, my two attackers looked down.

TOM

I own a rare book dealership in downtown Seattle. I have one assistant in the shop, a fellow named Robert Zavier, who has worked for me now for more than three years. He's the best assistant I've ever had, knowledgeable, conscientious, dedicated, and damned good-looking to boot. It's been a couple of years now that I’ve trusted him to serve any customer we have except for the very few who insist on dealing with me. The fellow has a lot of charm as well as a lot of knowledge, and most people who come to the shop are only too happy to deal with him. Although we don't usually socialize after work--we see enough of each other every day in the shop, after all--we have become friends. I know quite a bit about the boy's life and he about mine. We're both gay, for one thing. I know a few things about him, however, that I don't think he knows that I know.

About six weeks ago, I found a sheet of paper in the office fax machine that I am very sure Bob never meant for me to find there. I was shocked, amused, excited, and astonished all at once when I found it. After looking it over for several minutes, my shock departed but my amusement and my excitement stayed high. After a few minutes of studying it, I put the paper back and left it for Bob to retrieve. When I checked an hour or so later, the paper was gone. I think Bob worried for several days that I might have seen it, but, since I said nothing, I expect he decided he had remembered and retrieved his paper before I had had occasion to use the fax. He was wrong, of course.

And what was the piece of paper? Nothing much, really, just a drawing, one that I supposed Bob himself had made and had wanted to fax to some friend. It was a drawing penciled in outline and then inked and then colored with pencils. It showed a man, dressed in a suit and tie. Nothing much to remark on in that, you might think. But there was more to the drawing. The man was bound and gagged, and he was sexually excited. He was roped into a chair, tight coils binding his arms and chest and legs down close. He had a big wad of a bandanna stuffed into his mouth and another bandanna tied around his head to keep the gag in place. His trousers fly was open, and his cock was standing up stiff and proud, a little drop of precum beaded at the tip. He had one of those cartoon speech balloons drawn above his head, and he was going "Mmmmmph!" into that big gag. It wasn't hard for me to conclude that my good-boy assistant was into bondage. And there was something more.

I noticed that the man in the drawing had a silk handkerchief arranged in the chest pocket of his suit in an exaggeratedly protuberant puff. Now, I wear a big silk handkerchief puffed in my chest pocket every day. So does Bob. Not as prominently puffed as the guy in Bob's drawing, but prominently enough. I had made clear to Bob that dressing for work was a requirement of the job, and he had certainly never objected. There was even a little unspoken rivalry between us. I had an idea now about why that might have been so.

A week or so later, when we were both in the back office talking about something or other, I deliberately took my silk handkerchief from my breast pocket and then re-inserted it, arranging it into an even more ostentatious puff than before. As I did so, I carefully watched Bob's re-actions. He seemed fascinated with what I was doing, almost lost the train of what he was saying, and never took his eyes off my hands as I fiddled with my handkerchief, stuffing and puffing far longer than I needed to. I pulled the same stunt on the man a few days later, and I got the same response. From then on, I took the occasion to perform this little act two or three times a week in his presence. I had discovered that my assistant had a fetish, a fetish for handkerchiefs and especially, it seemed, for handkerchiefs worn in a man's suit pocket.

It just so happens that bondage is not really my thing. Even if it had been, it would have been unwise to start an affair with my employee. I had a friend, however, who liked such kinks very much indeed. And he was just Bob's type, I knew. Bob liked slightly older men, mature, successful, in control. I had known this, but I hadn't quite realized how much into having his man in control the fellow was. And there was a bonus: my friend was a dandy who wore, if anything, his silk breast pocket handkerchiefs in even more prominent puffs than Bob or I did. As far as I knew, he didn't have a fetish for the things. He just liked the look of them. I decided a meeting between my friend and my assistant was in order. Arranging the meeting was easy. My friend, Kirkpatrick, lived in Toronto, but that was only a phone call away.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Andrew, it's Tom."

"Ton, how are you?"

"Fine, Andy, fine. And you?"

"The same."

"Good. Andy, I'm gonna get straight to the point."

"Umm."

"You haven't met my assistant, Bob Zavier, have you? I think he was out of the shop the only time you came by since I hired him."

"Yes, he was."

"Well, that was a pity, but on the other hand, maybe it's worked out for the best."

"Hmmm?"

"Well, I think you should meet him, now that I know a few things about him."

"What things, Tom?"

"Well, for one, that he likes bondage. Lots of tight rope and big bandanna gags."

"Hmmm."

"Yeah, 'hmmmm'."

"Go on."

"He's nice-looking, intelligent, hard-working ..."

"Tom, I won't want to hire him in any case, just ..."

"Just truss the poor fellow up and stuff a gag the size of a grapefruit in his mouth, right?"

"Tom ..."

"And he likes mature, successful types." I paused. "And one thing more."

"Yes?"

"The poor fellow has a fetish for silk handkerchiefs worn in a man's breast pocket."

"Oh. Tom. How do you know all this?"

"Interested?"

"Well, yes, of course I'm interested, but ..."

"Come out to see me, soon, and I'll tell you."

There was a pause, and then Andy said, "Fine. I'll be out next week."

ANDREW

Tom's call came out of the blue. Not that he should call me, since we called each other pretty regularly. But what he had to tell me. It was the first time he'd ever tried to set me up in just this way. Often in the first years of our friendship, he had urged me on with one fellow or another. It wasn't till I finally told him that I had somewhat specialized tastes in sex that he stopped. Not that he was judgmental or shocked. He told me he just didn't know any suitable fellows who liked being roped and gagged. Well, now, it seemed, he did, and he was as eager to urge me on as ever.

When I met Tom at his house after visiting his shop and seeing Bob, I was a bit keyed up. I had found the fellow quite attractive indeed, and I flattered my self that he felt the same way about me. The idea of having the man bound, gagged, and at my disposal was more than a little exciting, and I told Tom so as he ushered me into his living room.

He grinned. "I thought you might think so. Cute, isn't he?"

I grinned back. "He'd look cuter with a nice big wad of handkerchiefs stuffing his mouth as a gag."

Tom chuckled. "So, shall we?"

I raised an eyebrow.

"Shall we kidnap the poor fellow tonight?" At my puzzled stare, he went on, "He's working late." He glanced at his watch. "I'm sure he'll be there another hour or so. Plenty of time to get a gag and some rope ready, go down to the shop, and surprise him."

I stared at my friend. "I thought you weren't into this sort of thing, Tom."

"I'm not, Andy. Not as a sexual kink, anyway. But the idea of helping you abduct the fellow has a certain appeal. It's not that I don't find him attractive myself, you know. I always have, actually. I guess helping you have him in a way that I feel confident will ultimately satisfy the fellow has a strong appeal. I guess I can't explain it, really."

I shook my head with a smile. "Tommy boy, I think we may turn you into a rope and gag man yet."

He shrugged. "So, time's awasting. What do we need?"

I thought a moment. "Rope to tie him up."

"Lot of that in the laundry room."

"Handkerchiefs to gag him."

"A drawerful of them in the bedroom."

"And a couple of bandannas or silks to mask our faces."

"Bandannas I have in plenty, also."

"So, you get the rope, I'll get the handkerchiefs and bandannas."

"Right."

Tom went down the hall to the back of the house, and I went upstairs to his bedroom. I hadn't been in the room for several years, but it was nothing changed. Big fourposter bed, bid matching chest of drawers, all heavy dark wood. A dark-coloured Persian carpet on the floor. And bookshelves, bookshelves lining the walls, and books crammed into every shelf and in neat piles on the floor. I went to the bureau and opened the top left drawer. The drawer was full of white pocket handkerchiefs, tidy stacks of them. I scooped up a double handful and laid them on top of the bureau. In the drawer on the right, I found silks, a profusion of silks, all colours, patterns, in a swirling mass. In the drawer below, I found what I was looking for: bandannas, neat stacks of them. I took out four big navy blue and white squares and stuffed them into my inner pocket. Scooping up the white handkerchiefs again, I went downstairs to join Tom.

I found him in the kitchen, cutting a clothesline into shorter lengths. He looked up with a smile.

"I figured it would be easier to handle like this."

I nodded.

He gathered up the rope and said, "Let's go."

"Just like that?" I said. "No plan or anything, Tommy boy?"

He grinned and took me by the arm to lead me out the back way.

"We take him by surprise. I hold him while you gag him. You hold him while I tie him up. He struggles and moans while you play with him. I watch. Sound like a good plan?"

I chuckled and nodded.

As we drove downtown, I used the handkerchiefs to prepare a gag. I shook open three of Tom's big white handkerchiefs and layered them on top of each other. Then I rolled the triple thickness of cloth up into a huge soft ball. Tom glanced over as I worked.

"That's a gag and a half, isn't it, Andy?"

I held the big wad up critically. "I like to stuff the fellow's mouth up good and full."

Tom smirked.

Using more of the handkerchiefs, I prepared two more wads. Tom cocked an eyebrow.

"It's like surgery," I said. "If you drop a tool, you don't want to take the time to pick it up."

He nodded.

I used another handkerchief, rolled on the diagonal, to form a bandage. "To tie the gag in his mouth," I said to Tom, who nodded, smirking again.

Taking out the bandannas, I shook open one, folded it on the diagonal, and the folded it twice more to make a bandage wide and thick in the middle and tapering at either end. I repeated the act to make a second. Then I took up two more bandannas and folded them only once on the diagonal. Holding them up, I said, "Our masks."

Tom nodded with a grin.

A quarter of an hour later, Tom let us into his shop through the back door. As we stepped inside, we pulled up the bandanna masks. He locked the door behind us, and we slipped down the narrow back hall to enter the front room with its rows of bookshelves. The two offices were to our left, the only light coming through the open door of the one nearest us. Tom held up a hand, and I heard the sounds of Bob getting up from his desk. We hurried to hide behind the nearest shelves. Peering through the books, I saw Bob come out of the office and walk a few steps forward to look around the shop. He looked very handsome and somehow also very vulnerable. My sex was already stiff with anticipation. I held one of the gags in my hand. For a long moment he stood with his back to us, and I pulled Tom forward.

Bob was just turning around as I came up behind him, and the sight of me suddenly standing there must have given him a shock. He gasped, and I instantly shoved the huge gag into his open mouth. His "mmmmmmmmmmmph!" of fear and surprise made my cock leap. From behind him, Tom grabbed his arms and held him while I leaped forward, snatching out the rolled white handkerchief from a side pocket and pressing the band hard between Bob's jaws. He moaned, his eyes wide with fright as I wrapped the ends around his head and tied them into as hard a knot as I could manage. Tom spun the poor fellow around and I seized his arms and forced his wrists together behind him. He was still so much in shock at our attack, he hardly resisted. Tom used a length of the clothesline to bind the man's wrists tightly, and then, as I held him, used more rope to lash his arms to his sides.

Together, we forced Bob to the floor, struggling now, but too late, his protests muffled by the gag. Tom used more rope to tie Bob's legs at the knees and the ankles. Meanwhile, I took out another of the handkerchief wads I had prepared in the car and stuffed it into Bob's mouth in front of the handkerchief bandage. Then I took out one of the bandannas and I tied that over the man's mouth, pulling the cloth as tight as I could and knotting it behind his head in a hard knot. He stared up at me as I worked, hie eyes full of fear.

For a moment, Tom and I sat back on our haunches. Between us, Bob lay helpless, his arms and legs tightly bound, his mouth cruelly gagged. Then I acted. Snatching up a length of rope from where Tom had tossed them, I leaped onto Tom, forcing him to the floor and flipping him onto his belly. I jerked his hands behind him and began to lash his wrists together. But he resisted, once his surprise was over, and he pulled away and twisted under me, half on his side, staring up at me. We froze that way.

"You wanted to watch, Tom."

He stared at me a long moment. Then, as I again began to tie his hands, he rolled over on to his belly and let me pull his wrists together and bind them. I took out the third of the handkerchief gags. Bending over Tom's head, I reached under his mask to stuff the wad between his lips. He moaned, but submitted to the gag readily enough. I loosened the knot in his mask and used the bandanna to tie the gag in place, pulling back hard to draw the bandanna tightly through his mouth and knotting it behind his head.

I looked over my shoulder at Bob, who lay watching, his eyes wide still but with a new surprise.

ROBERT

I'm not sure when I realized, exactly, that it was my boss and Kirkpatrick who had attacked and bound and gagged me. I guess I didn't fully take it in until Kirkpatrick had taken off my boss's bandanna mask and was using it to tie that big handkerchief gag into his mouth. I had gone from being panicked and yet sexually excited at being seized that way and bound and gagged, to somehow sensing, I didn't yet know why, that this wasn't what it seemed. I had just begun to realize that I recognized the clothing the two men who attacked me wore. The tall man in the glen plaid suit with the big paisley puff in his chest pocket was dressed just like my boss, the shorter man in the dark suit with the big white silk puff at his breast was dressed like someone I had just seen--hadn't I? Who these men must be was just forcing itself into my consciousness when Kirkpatrick turned to my boss and began to tie his hands. I didn't fully understand what he meant by saying my boss "wanted to watch" yet, but I somehow found myself unsurprised when Kirkpatrick loosened the bandanna mask, and I saw my boss's face. At the same time, the sight of him tying my boss's hands and gagging him like that increased my excitement. My sex, already stiff in my trousers, strained to get free.

Now, as I lay watching, my arms and legs tightly bound, the huge soft gag stuffing my mouth and silencing me, Kirkpatrick pulled down his bandanna mask and grinned at me. I couldn't help noticing how incongruous and yet sexy that bandanna looked, draping from his throat like a cowboy neckerchief, but with him all dressed up in his suit and with that huge dandy silk in his breast pocket. Still smiling, Kirkpatrick got up and went into my office. For a fleeting moment I wondered if he was after something, if he was going to rob us. We were both, my boss and I, tied and gagged, after all.

My boss lay on his side a few feet away, looking at me. The way his hands were pulled behind his back and bound forced his chest forward. The silk puff in his chest pocket, prominently displayed before, thrust up and out in even greater protuberance, partly from his position, partly from being disarrayed a bit in the course of binding and gagging me and being bound and gagged himself. I glanced down at my own silk handkerchief lolling form my pocket in a great puff. My cock was painfully stiff at being dressed up this way, bound, and gagged, at seeing my boss with his dandy puff bound and gagged, at being the helpless prisoner of a man himself dressed with a dandy puff at his breast. I moaned into my gag, and my boss watched me, his eyes bright and knowing.

Kirkpatrick returned carrying a wooden chair from my office. He plunked it down beside where my boss lay, and then he bent down and hauled my boss up and into the chair. Taking up some of the ropes, he proceeded to bind my boss tightly into the chair as I watched in fascinated excitement. I had always thought my boss was a very attractive man. That he always wore a silk handkerchief puffed in his breast pocket, a style of dandified dress I have a fetish for as inexplicable but as strong as my obsession with rope bondage and big handkerchief and bandanna gags, had made him more so. Now, to lie as I was on the floor, bound up tightly with rope, gagged securely and brutally with wads of handkerchiefs and the fiercely tied handkerchief and bandanna, to lie there while this handsome man finished the task of binding up my handsome boss, both of them wearing the ostentatious silk puffs of my fetish, that was a sexual heaven.

I found myself straining at the ropes that bound me so tightly, aware of how useless the action was and turned on by that very awareness. I whimpered into my gag, excited at how thoroughly the huge soft ball of handkerchiefs stopped up my mouth, at how tightly the handkerchief was drawn through my mouth, at how securely the bandanna held the second huge wad of handkerchiefs against the first. I was gagged as I had longed to be gagged in my fantasies, my mouth stuffed full in a luxurious excess, my jaws distended, my lips covered and sealed by the taut bandanna.

"Mmmmmmph! Mmmmmmugummmmph! Mmmmmmmmmmph!"

Kirkpatrick finished off knotting the ropes he had used to fasten my boss's legs to the chair. He looked over at me as he worked, a smile on his face. He glanced up at my boss.

"I think we're turning him on, Tommy boy," he said with a chuckle.

My boss nodded and grunted through his gag.

"Um hmmmph!"

Before he stood up, Kirkpatrick forced his hand into my boss's trousers pocket and drew out his big white handkerchief. Then he took out his own, and, shaking the two handkerchiefs open, he gathered them up into a big wad. This he immediately stuffed into my boss's mouth, in front of the bandanna tied through his mouth already. Then he reached up and loosened his own bandanna mask from around his neck, and he used that to bind up my boss's mouth, pulling the bandanna tight over his lips, so tight that he forced my boss's head back on his shoulders and he groaned, ant then he tied the bandanna off in a hard knot at the base of his skull. All the while, as he augmented my boss's gag, he looked down at him with a tight smile, with an expression of almost savage enjoyment. It was clear that he enjoyed gagging my boss, that the very act of stuffing his mouth up with his and the man's own handkerchiefs and of binding his mouth up with the bandanna gave him a fierce pleasure.

"Shuts you up, doesn't it, Tommy boy?" he said huskily.

My boss nodded. He whimpered uselessly into the huge gag. "Mmmmph. Mugulummmmph."

TOM

I hadn't expected to be bound and gagged like that. Submitting had been a spur of the moment thing. It was obvious to me, however, that Andy had planned to try it with me from the beginning. He had made up the extra gag in the car. I just hadn't put two and two together, that's all. Now I was trussed up to that chair good and tight, so well that I knew I couldn't struggle free. And the gag was for real, the first huge wad of my own handkerchiefs alone enough to shut me up. I sensed Andy's deep pleasure in finishing off the gag with the second wad of his and my pocket handkerchiefs and the bandanna from his throat. There was a fierce sensuality in the way he forced the second gag into my already stuffed mouth, and the ruthless way in which he bound the bandanna so tightly around my head.

I was almost disappointed when, after a last look into my eyes, he turned his attention to Bob, who had lain all this while at our feet, helplessly trussed up and brutally gagged. He had watched Andy truss me to the chair and finish off the gag with an avid gaze, straining at the ropes that secured him and mumbling pathetically into his gag. Even now he stared up at me with an eager gaze, his eyes moving from mine to the gag in my mouth to the big puff in my pocket to the ropes that bound me. Andy knelt down beside him, and he turned his gaze up to him. There was a yearning look in his eyes that sorted well with his helpless and muffled state. I felt my cock stiffening in my pants as I watched.

"Trussed up good and tight, aren't you, fellow?" Andy said to Bob. The other man looked up at him.

"Mmmmmph!"

Andy grinned and reached to caress the fellow's bandanna-swathed cheek. "Gagged you good and secure, huh?"

"Mmmmmmmph! Mugulummph!"

Andy slowly began to caress the fellow, running his hand over his thick hair, down the side of his head, over his shoulders. He took the big puff of the fellow's chest pocket handkerchief in his hand and played with it teasingly. Then he slowly drew the handkerchief from the fellow's pocket, examining it with close attention.

"You like these things, don't you, Robbie? I mean, you really like them, don't you?"

Bob looked up at him. He strained at the ropes and moaned into the huge gag.

Andy replaced the handkerchief, taking his time about it, stuffing and puffing the big square of heavy silk with careful attention, arranging it into an even more ostentatious puff in the other man's breast pocket. Bob watched the man arranging his own handkerchief in his own pocket, his chin tucked into his chest, his breathing heavier through his nostrils. When he was done, Andy playfully cuffed Bob on the chin, and the other man looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact with him, Andy reached up and took the huge white silk handkerchief from his own pocket. He held it in his hands for a moment, his eyes on Bob's, and then he replaced it, watching Bob watch him the while. Bob stared up at him, his eyes flicking from Andy's intent gaze to the man's hands arranging the big dandy puff. He moaned hopelessly into the enormous gag.

"I'm glad I wear your fetish, Robbie. I don't have a fetish for handkerchiefs myself. I just like how they look, a big dandy's handkerchief in a butch man's pocket, that's all. But you've got a fetish, don't you, laddie?"

Bob stared up at him. Slowly he nodded.

"Well, laddie, it must be quite a night for you, what with the three of us here, all of us fops with big silk puffs for you to enjoy, eh?"

Bob moaned into his gag. "Mmmmmuguluggmph!"

Andy grinned down at him. Suddenly he bent close, his yes staring into Bob's. "Do you know what I like, laddie? Hmmm? It's the sight of a nice boy like you, a good-looking dude, a big fellow, manly and strong, all trussed up the way you are, completely helpless, bound up in rope like you are now. And most of all, gagged, laddie, that's right, gagged. I like gags, laddie, big handkerchief gags, gags so big they almost choke the man, big, thick, soft, rounded wads of men's pocket handkerchiefs stuffed into my captive's mouth and tied in tight so that all he can do is go 'mmmmmph mmmmph mmmph', the way you were going just now." All the while he spoke, Bob stared up at him, writhing in his ropes.

Andy paused for a moment, his gaze boring deep into Bob's. The bound and gagged man stopped his struggles, and he simply stared back at Andy, seemingly mesmerized. With an almost hesitant hand, Andy reached to caress the other man's bandanna swathed cheek. "That's a gag and a half, like your boss said earlier, isn't it, my lad? Let me tell you about it, laddie. You've got a wad of three of your boss's best big white pocket handkerchiefs rolled up into a wad and stuffed into your mouth." As Andy spoke, his voice low and almost crooning, a verbal caress, Bob continued to meet his gaze, making soft little moans behind the gag. "And then you've got another of your boss's big handkerchiefs tied through your mouth to keep that big soft wad where it belongs, stuffed into your mouth. Now some men might think that was enough of a gag, and if all I wanted to do was shut you up, lad, then I guess it might be enough. But what I want to do is gag you, laddie, gag you like you've never been gagged before. So I've got a second big wad stuffed in your mouth, Robbie, a second wad just like the first one, made of three more of your good boss's big white handkerchiefs, and then I've tied a big bandanna, also courtesy of your boss, and folded into a nice wide bandage, I've got that bandanna tied over your mouth just as tight as I can tie it." All the while he spoke, Andy caressed the other man, running his hand gently over his head, his throat, his shoulders.

"You like that gag, don't you, Robbie lad?"

Bob nodded, a look of mingled despair and arousal on his handsome face.

"You know, my bonnie lad, about the only thing that could excite me more now would be to force a bigger gag into your mouth." He chuckled. "But I don't think that's possible, and, besides, we've used up all our handkerchiefs except for these dandy puffs, and I understand very well that you want them right where they are."

Bob stared up at him, and then he twisted to one side and nodded several times at his hip, grunting into his gag. After a brief hesitation, Andy reached into the fellow's hip pocket and pulled out a truly huge white pocket handkerchief. Immediately, Bob began to nod down at his chest, still grunting. When Andy, with a puzzled frown, made as if to take his chest pocket handkerchief, Bob frantically shook his head. Andy suddenly smiled and reached inside Bob's coat and took another, similarly huge white pocket handkerchief from the man's inner coat pocket.

Andy smiled wickedly. Bending close over Bob, he began to loosen the bandanna. As he did so, he spoke in a low voice.

"When I have the gag out, Robbie lad, I don't want to hear a sound out of you, my boy, is that clear?"

Bob nodded, his eyes intent on Andy's face. Piece by piece, Andy removed the gag, drawing out the outer wad, loosening the handkerchief bandage, and finally, with a slow movement, his eyes staring into Bob's as he did so, withdrawing the inner wad. He had already unfolded one of Bob's big handkerchiefs. Now he unrolled the damp inner gag and laid it on top of Bob's big handkerchief. Then he rolled the quadruple layer of cloth up into a rounded wad once more. The gag was enormous, as big as a man's two fists together. With a grin at Bob, Andy repeated the act with Bob's other handkerchief and the second wad. Bob lay looking up at him, his lips slightly parted, his gaze mesmerized. Andy looked down at him, the huge, puffy ball of white handkerchiefs in his hand. Suddenly he bent down, cupping the back of Bob's head in his hand. He kissed the other man hard, pressing his mouth against Bob's lips urgently. Bob moaned softly. They held the kiss for a long moment, oblivious to me, I realized. Then they broke the kiss.

Andy said softly, "I'm going to gag you now, Robbie lad, really gag you, gag you like you've never been gagged." Slowly he stuffed the huge wad of handkerchiefs into Bob's mouth, forcing the whole enormous wad of soft cloth deep into the man's mouth. Bob moaned in a kind of sexual agony, and I could see in Andy's expression how much pleasure he took in compelling the other man to accept the cruel gag. For a moment he paused, staring down into Bob's eyes. Then he took up the rolled white handkerchief and held it stretched in a tight band between his hands for a moment, inches from Bob's face. It was obvious to me he took pleasure in anticipating how he would now force that bandage between Bob's jaws. Then he did just that, pressing the taut cloth hard between Bob's lips, forcing it far back between his teeth, shoving the huge gag yet more deeply into Bob's mouth. With quick, firm movements, he knotted the handkerchief off behind Bob's head.

Now Andy took up the second gag. He held it in front of Bob's mouth for a moment, and then, cupping the back of the man's head with his other hand, he shoved the wad into Bob's already full mouth. He stuffed and crammed and forced the whole huge wad between the man's lips, compelling him to accept the second big wad of handkerchiefs into his mouth. Then holding one hand over the other's lips, he took up the bandanna, slipped it beneath his fingers, and wrapped the long ends around Bob's head. He pulled the bandanna taut over Bob's stuffed mouth, and pulled it again, and yet again. And then he paused, keeping the bandanna pulled tight with his strong hands.

"I love gagging a man like you, Robbie lad," he said quietly. "There's nothing more arousing to me than this." Then he tied off the bandanna, pulling the cloth as tight as he possibly could and knotting the ends off cruelly hard at the base of the other man's skull.

Bob struggled with the gag. "Mmmmmmmmm." The noise he made was a smothered, muffled, faint mumbling moan. Given the size of the gag, given how many big handkerchiefs he had stuffed into his mouth, I was surprised he could make any noise at all. I was a bit shocked as I felt my own cock stir in excitement at the idea of how completely and cruelly the poor man was gagged.

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