Yes, it is time for free the willy part 2

Eric saw that Peter went pale as realized what Mr. Andersson had been saying. But then he saw something else in his friends’ eyes. Something he remembered well from when they grew up together.

Peter had been a calm and polite kid, who seldom got himself into trouble. But he could, if provoked the right way, unleash a fierce anger. The problem was that he didn’t have the strength, speed, or fighting skills to match this rage. Eric had happily taken advantage of this when they were kids. Deliberately pushing the right buttons to provoke and fire up Peter, and then tackle the furious boy to the ground, sitting on Peters chest as he was kicking and screaming and unable to break free from Eric. Which of course got him even more furious. And now Eric could see that Peter went from pale to angry red, and that the familiar dark anger raising in his eyes.

Before Eric had any chance to say anything or do anything to prevent him from doing anything stupid, Peter let out a load roar and then he jumped across the desk that separated them and Andersson with his men. If jump is the right way to describe Peters clumsy move. In any other settings the whole scene would have been hilarious. The grown man letting out a loud roar before more than less falling over the desk, where he was left screaming, waiving his arms, and trying to grab hold of Andersson. Mr. Anderson himself was watching the whole spectacle with an amused look, and easily took a step back to get out of reach from Peter. Then he gave his men a nod, and they easily dragged Peter of the desk and down to the floor where they quickly zip tied his hands behind his back and his feet together. At the same time another of the men grabbed Eric and secured his hands behind his back with a firm grip.

The now securely bound Peter was still burning with rage and was wiggling around down on the floor and was screaming and swearing at Andersson. “Ok, silence him up, will you,” Andersson said to his men. With a few quick motions two of them yanked Peters shoes and socks off his feet, and with the socks and the shoelaces they gagged the screaming guy. If it was the bad taste of his own socks or not, Peter finally calmed down, and the fighting spirit drained of him as quickly as had come.

The whole time Eric had been watching the spectacle, held firmly in place by one of the guards, first in shock and then in desperation, as he saw how his friend was digging his own grave. And as he saw the anger being replaced with fear Peters eyes, he tried to give his friend a sympathetic and encouraging look. But from his own experience he knew that this would not end well for his friend.

With Peter finally calmed down, Andersson went over and kneeled down beside him. He slowly stroked his fingers under Peters bare feet, causing him to twitch at the sudden touch, stared him straight in his eyes and said with a cold voice, “This was fun to watch, a real spectacular show. But that bold move of yours was big, big mistake, Peter. No one comes after me like that, no matter how pathetic it is, unpunished.” Then, in a sudden lighter tone, Andersson rose from the floor and said, “But first thing, first. We must get on with the unboxing of our new nudist.” In one of the desks drawers, he picked up a scissor and handed it to one of his men. “Will you do the honor? But take it slowly. It’s much more fun that way. Start with his sweater.”

Down on the floor Eric could see that Peter was starting to panic and pleading behind the gag. But the man just ignored the muffled sound, and just silently showed Peter the sharp scissor as to warn him to keep still, and then slowly and methodically cut the sweater from Peters body.

“Good,” Andersson said, “Tie and shirt next.” It had been easy just to loosen Peters tie and take it of him. But the man went on to cut of the tie of, and at having the sharp scissor so close to his neck silenced Peter again. With the tie gone, his shirt was then tear open, causing the buttons to flew across the room, and then slowly cut to pieces.

Peter was wearing an undershirt, and when Andersson saw this, he put on a disappointed face and said, “Ahh, I thought we was about to see some bare skin. But at least ha well wrapped package keeps the excitement. Let’s get on with his trousers then.”

Eric was watching Peters ongoing humiliation in silence, held firm by the guards and in fear of saying anything that could provoke Andersson further and make things even worse. The sight of Peter slowly being striped brought back the memory of his own humiliating fall into his permanent naked state. But as he saw his struggling friend, bound and gagged, burning with shame, and with fear and embarrassment in his eyes, he thought that at leas he had had the dignity of stepping out of his own clothes one last time, and was spared the humiliation of slowly being forcibly stripped.

Wiggling around down on the floor, Peter started to realize he was running out of clothes, and his muffled pleas for mercy began behind his gag again. As the guy with the scissor kneeled to cut off his trousers, Peter tried to crawl away from him. Of course, the guy just easily secured him in place with a knee on his chest, removed his belt, and went on to cut off his trousers. First one leg, then the next, and then the trousers were gone. The increasingly embarrassed Peter was now down to his undershirt, and a worn-out boxer shorts.

“Ok, now we are getting somewhere,” Andersson said with a big smile, “the shirt next.” The guy just cut a short rift at the bottom of the shirt, and then he went on to tear the shirt of Peter, who had silently started to cry as the last pieces of fabric that protected his modesty was taken away from him. When the shirt was off, Andersson just gave a short nod and the guy just simply mad a cut with the scissor on each side of the boxer short and then quickly removed the last piece of clothing from Peters body. And then there were two naked dicks in the room.

“Now, this wasn’t that hard, was it Peter,” Andersson said, as the now naked Peter was weeping down of the floor, total crushed. “Just one more thing. Take of his necklace and his watch and find his glasses. I’m not sure where they ended up in all the spectacle.”

When he was given Peters watch and necklace, Andersson just gave them a quick look before tossing them down in trash can besides the desk and said, “You don’t have as expensive habits as your friend used to have, I see.” Peters’ glasses where finally located under one of the filing cabinets, having been thrown off him in all the commotion. “Just plain glass as I expected,” Andersson said as he looked at them. “That’s good, then we can keep you completely bare from now on.”

“Ok, I think it has been enough excitement for one evening,” Andersson continued. “Take both of them back to Erics office for the night. But keep that one bound and gagged, just so he learns his lesson,” pointing at the weeping Peter down and the floor, “and better secure the other one for the night also, just in case. We’ll talk again tomorrow, gentlemen. You should use the night to reflect on your stupid behavior.” Before he walked out, Andersson stopped beside Peter, and said to him in a mockingly convincing sympathetic voice. “I know that this is overwhelming, but I’m sure you eventually will find life easier this way.” Then he left.

Hearing Andersson’s last comment, Eric suddenly felt his own rage rise. Talking to them about how a life in constant embarrassing nudity, **** to show off your private parts to everyone, was easy, made him mad and just wanting to kick that arrogant prick Andersson in his balls. But he was held in a firm grip by his guard, and as the man felt Eric jerked in his hand, he quickly zip tied his hands behind his back as Andersson had instructed. Peter was then lifted up from the floor, and one of the men carried him over his shoulder as they walked back to Erics office cell.

It was late night when the strange procession, the man carrying the now stark-naked Peter leading the way with the ever naked Eric following just behind, now with his hands tied behind his back, made its way through the office building. No one was around and the walk was uneventful. Back at the empty office, Erics home for the last months, Peter was dumped down on the skimpy mattress on the floor, still bound on hands and feet and gagged with his own socks. Eric was pushed over to a water pipe running outside one of the walls, directed to sit down on the floor, and with another zip tie his hands was secured to the pipe. Then they were left alone.

Eric watched Peter lying on the other side on the room. His poor friend was completely silent, no muffling sounds behind his gag, no crying, he just lay on his side completely still and with an empty expression on his face staring out in the room. Eric was completely shell shocked himself, at how this day had turned from excitement and optimism to bleak despair in just over a few hours. Instead of finally finding a way to loosen Mr. Andersson’s firm grip on his life, he was falling deeper into the hole, dragging his old friend with him. The only thing he could think of saying was “I’m so sorry Peter, it’s all my fault.” And he sat like that, tied to the water pipe, watching his naked, bound, and gagged friend on the other side of the room, repeatedly saying sorry, until he drifted into a restless sleep, fearing watch tomorrow would bring.