GayBondageFiction

Vote for your favorite stories from September & October. You may vote for up to FOUR different stories. After placing your vote, enjoy this month’s bonus story. Just follow the link below the results after you […]

After all of the gruesome clips from Halloween, perhaps its time for a palate cleanser? Chris Pratt visits a very unprofessional doctor’s office and ends up with his ass invaded. This movie looks ridiculous but, […]

Halloween 2018: Here’s a very strange and grotesque short film perfect for a Halloween update!
Additional Halloween themed clips have been added to our Male Bondage in Movies  page.

HALLOWEEN 2018: Suspected serial killer is treated harshly in a mental facility including
a caning in these scenes from horror show.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

HALLOWEEN 2018: A deserving victim receives very harsh treatment in this gruesome scene from popular horror show.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

In the closing pages of the series, Tough Love Productions holds it’s immensely popular “lottery” where audience members and the television audience can win some alone time with a captive youth in need of […]

Up next is Marine private Derek Johns who is stripped in front of the audience before the bidding begins.

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 (Page 7)
by Kronmire4
Art by Amalaric
Series: Selling Tough […]

In the final scene, Marty Stiles makes another appearance and the lottery winners enjoy some one-on-one time. A big thanks to Kronmire4 and Amalaric for their fantastic efforts on this hot series!

Selling […]

Halloween 2018: Another very gruesome scene but I do really like the moment he cuts off his underwear.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

True current news story from Mexico that may be of some interest….

El Vengador of Puerto Vallarta
by Various News Organizations

Meet the Vengador Encuerador, the Mystery Vigilante Shaming […]

Amalaric shares his take on the film Midnight Express in this hot one-off featuring some very sexy manips!

Midnight Express (reprise)
by Amalaric

Maybe you remember that old film from the 70’s called ‘ […]

A young Turkish hottie gets stripped to the waist and whipped by an enthusiastic shirtless
& sexy sadist in this scene from a Turkish television series.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

The poor young turkish hottie takes a brutal whipping and
even more harsh treatment from a second and angrier interrogator.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

Handsome cowboy is captured, stripped off his shirt and staked out in the
desert by a group of Indians in this scene from classic Western TV show, Hondo.
Visit our Male Bondage in Movies  page for more.

Captured black cop Abel spends some alone time with Carlotta before he is rented out to a group of horny men.

This Little Piggy Went to the Market – Chapters 14 & 15
by Horny Old Fag
Series: This Little Piggy Went to the Market

CHAPTER 14

Carlotta lounged across a black velvet kidney-shaped bed in her brightly colored matador jacket and usual jodhpurs. She tapped a riding crop against her thigh-high boots. “Kneel before your mistress, swine.”

Despite standing a good foot taller and having at least a hundred pounds on the bitch, Abel sank to his knees. If he took her hostage, he might gain momentary leverage, but would eventually get taken down, and very likely jeopardize his family’s safety. Besides, surely, she was armed.

“Wise decision, Nigger Pig. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Carlotta rose to pour herself a shot of tequila and light a cigarette. She retrieved a small hand-carved wooden box from her desk and removed a syringe. “You look like you could use a boost.” Grabbing his left ankle, she injected his foot. Within seconds, he felt a thousand times better. Aside from taking morphine for a bullet wound once, the strongest drug he ever imbibed was caffeine. He wondered what he was on now. He sure enjoyed the sensation.

Carlotta logged in to her laptop and opened a folder labeled NP. She played a video of his home in South Shore. Destiny and Indigo stood on the front lawn, arguing over a game of jump rope. Kaila shouted at the girls to get inside.

“As you can see, your family doing just fine without you.”

Abel brushed aside a tear. The bitch clicked open a news article from the Tribune. The headline read, “Corrupt Cops Flee Murder Scene.” He scanned the copy. Two police officers had murdered two guys and fled the city. By the time he got to the end, he realized the subjects in question were he and his partner.

The corners of Carlotta’s lips curled in an enigmatic smile.

Abel read the article again. The bodies of a black man and a Mexican illegal had turned up in an abandoned warehouse on the east side. Ballistics had matched the bullets that killed the black man to his weapon and those that had ended the Mexican’s life to his partner’s gun.

“Jiggy and Pancho got greedy.”

He finished the last few paragraphs. A spokesperson for the Chief of Police confirmed the alleged murderers had known dealings with drug cartels, which was a blatant lie. Why would the guy sell them out like that?

“We always cover our tracks.”

“So my family thinks”—Abel struggled for words—“You bitch.” Carlotta drove the sharp toe of her boot into his nads. He squawked and doubled over.

“You should kiss my feet, Nigger Pig. Letting those bitches go free is costing me a shit ton of money.”

“Is that all your care about?”

“Gotta pay for this lavish lifestyle somehow.” Carlotta indicated the sparse room with a sweep of her arms. “No, seriously, I loathe chotas like you.”

“I tried to help those girls.”

“You signed their death warrants, you self-righteous prick. Now, you’re gonna put that plump cocksucker and fine booty to work making up for their loss. Refuse and your family pays your debt.”

Abel sighed and stared at his knees. From what he had witnessed, Carlotta was more than capable of delivering on that threat.

Rosa flounced inside. “Mama, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Now, Rosa, really?”

“I’ll be quick. Juan’s taking me to a party tonight.”

“Since when?”

“Mama,” Rosa whined. She had her mother’s eyes.

“I don’t like you hanging around that boy. He’s trouble.”

“You think all boys are trouble.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just because you hate men doesn’t mean I have to, you know.”

“I don’t hate men.”

“Are you serious?” Rosa raised an eyebrow at Abel.

“This chota? He’s not a man.”

“My papa was a cop.”

“Your papa was a wife beater and a rapist.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Carlotta slapped her daughter. Rosa slapped back and ran sobbing into the bathroom. Carlotta settled against the back of the loveseat to massage her temples.

“She’s beautiful,” Abel said.

“Touch her and you die.”

Abel threw up his arms. “I would never–.”

“See you don’t.”

“You love your daughter very much. I can see that. I love mine, too.”

“Are you serious? You think you can win me over with some sob story about your sow and piglets?”

Abel swallowed hard. It had been foolish to try and reach the stone-cold bitch.

Rosa stormed out of the bathroom and stomped down the hall. A door slammed.

Carlotta sighed. “Lie down.”

“Why,” Abel asked. “What are you going to do?”

The bitch screamed and whaled his backside with her crop. “Don’t ever question me again.”

He had never hit a woman in his life but longed to punch the bitch. Instead, he crawled up onto the sofa. She cuffed his limbs to the legs and took off down the hall.

“Open the door, Rosa. Right now. I mean it.”

“Go to hell!”

Rosa and Carlotta shouted back and forth for several minutes before the girl finally allowed her mother inside. Their argument continued behind closed doors.

Abel grew paranoid he might get sold and carted off in the trunk of some pervert’s car or worse, shot and dumped in the desert. He struggled with his cuffs until his wrists bled.

Carlotta returned. He sobbed for his life. She laughed. “Why the hell would I kill you? You’re worth much dinero.” She opened her wooden box and removed a syringe. “I think you need another fix.” She injected his other foot this time.

Within seconds, he realized he had overreacted and everything would be fine.

Rosa strutted out buck naked and waved two different outfits in her mother’s face. “Which one shows off my tits best?”

Carlotta screamed. “Put some clothes on girl.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Rosa winked at Abel and flounced back to her room.

“That girl will be the death of me.”

“I know what you mean.”

“Don’t try to get on my good side, Nigger Pig,” Carlotta said, “because I don’t have one.”

CHAPTER 15

Abel shuffled into line and cupped his palms over his crotch. His nerves tingled electric. He scratched his right foot with his left toenails. Logan stood alongside, grumbling under his breath. Sweat drenched the lean fed’s spare chest and flat gut.

Manny flogged Santos and ordered the tall, muscular Asian trooper to tuck his dong back between his legs and parade before the lewd mob. The humiliated kid shuffled along, eyes downcast, head bowed, knees-knocked, feet together, like a huge, awkward geisha.

McGee dashed around the courtyard, shouting for help. Manny and Herman tackled the rookie and leashed his scrotum to the fountain.

Abel had failed to defend his own ass, much less protect his young partner and keep his family safe. It was time he let Nigger Pig take charge. His alter ego lifted his head and glared at the lewd crowd. One after another the leering perverts averted their gaze.

Two cocky brothers in black turtlenecks and slacks negotiated over McGee. Money changed hands. The ripped black brutes freed the rookie. The desperate kid punched and kicked and cursed his attackers. Scratched their arms and spat in their faces. Even attempted to bite their fingers. The sick bastards beat the bugged-out kid senseless and dragged his battered ass inside a nearby room.

A tubby Latino with a bushy beard and flabby man boobs requested “the gook.” Pedro wrapped his arm around Santos, grabbed the stunned trooper by the dong with his free hand, and hauled the howling guy off the ground and lugged his floundering ass inside for the fat prick.

Two silver-haired white guys in dark suits studied Logan. Raul shared the defiant agent was FBI. The perverts grinned and handed the smug Mexican a wad of cash. The dogged fed dug in his heels and refused to budge. Oscar sucker-punched his solar plexus. He dropped to his knees. The freaky thug with his necklace of toe bones threw the dumbstruck fed into a headlock and hustled his butt inside.

A husky Latino with shaggy salt ‘n pepper hair and bushy eyebrows eyed Nigger Pig. Nigger Pig glared back, resolved to protect Abel until they were safely home.

“That’s USDA prime pork butt there,” Raul said. The smug Mexican flashed his million-dollar smile.

“Show me the swine’s twat.”

Raul snapped his fingers. Nigger Pig turned around, leaned forward, and pried his buttocks apart. The lecherous fellow finger-banged his asshole for a humiliatingly long while and purchase an hour of his time. Manny and Herman snatched his arms. He shoved the pair aside and strutted after his john.

Herman sniggered and nudged Manny in the ribs. “Horny hog’s hooked on dick already.”

Manny snickered. “Slaving and whoring come naturally to his kind.”

Nigger Pig ignored that last slight and stepped inside.

A heavy wooden chair with the seat carved out rested in the center of the cramped space. Shackles dangled from the wall above a dingy mattress. A wooden sawhorse sat in the corner. A rustic bathroom lay straight ahead, a chest of drawers set to his right.

The husky john shut the door and whipped out a wicked-looking hunting knife. “Kneel, oinker.”

Nigger Pig erupted in goosebumps and sank to his knees.

“Call me, Pig Slayer, oinker.” He flipped the knife in the air and brandished the blade in Nigger Pig’s mug.

“What’s my name?”
Nigger Pig stared at a crack in the floorboards and choked out the words. “Pig Slayer.”

Pig Slayer shucked off his shirt and kicked off his loafers. Dark curly hairs blanketed his broad chest and wide feet.

“You smell like shit, oinker. Go shower.” Pig Slayer waved Nigger Pig off. “Leave the door open so I can watch.”

Every fiber of Abel’s being screamed run. Nigger Pig shushed his true self and strutted into the bathroom to turn on the water. He removed his snout and tugged out his tail. His stomach rumbled. He plopped down on the toilet. His bowels exploded. He peed hard and flushed, slid the curtain aside, and climbed into the tub.

Abel protested homosexuality was a sin. Nigger Pig argued religion was a luxury they could not afford and further pointed out it was Abel and his good intentions that had landed their ass in this hellhole.

He toweled dry and strutted out of the bathroom. His husky john sat on the edge of the chair in a pair of dingy briefs, picking his nails with the tip of his knife. Nigger Pig’s swagger faded. Abel had never done anything remotely gay before getting jumped and raped, which meant neither had he. He had no clue where to begin.

“Show me that twat again.”

“Yes, sir.” Nigger Pig dismissed Abel and his shame and bent over. Pig Slayer finger-banged his rear. He winced and whimpered. The sick bastard poked his asshole with the knife. He squawked and shuddered.

“I could fuck you to death and no one would give a shit. Lie down.”

“Yes, sir.” Nigger Pig’s voice cracked. He crawled onto the mattress.

Pig Slayer crouched over Nigger Pig and pressed the knife against his throat. Nigger Pig peed a little. The husky freak lubricated his asshole and dogged his sore rear. He grimaced and groaned and bit the musty mattress to stifle his squeals. The pain worsened. He fretted the son-of-a-bitch might never stop. The nasty prick pulled out. He whimpered like a lost pup. Warm globs of sticky goo splattered his backside. He groaned.

Pig Slayer smacked his ass. “You’re lucky you got a tight twat—cause you’re a lousy fuck.” The smug bastard dressed and left.

Nigger Pig hobbled into the bathroom and swabbed off the splooge. He plopped down on the toilet to relieve his churning bladder and bowels, scrubbed his ass, and eased his tail inside. Slipping on his snout, he waddled outside and lined up before several new johns.

McGee dashed outside, shrieking and sobbing. The ripped brothers raced after, balls to the wind. They cornered the panicked rookie, and hauled his ass back inside, kicking and screaming.

Logan stumbled outside and wobbled around in circles. Manny and Herman shoved the disoriented agent into line and grabbed Santos when his chubby john departed. A biker gang bartered for the fed and the trooper as a package deal. The rowdy bastards grappled the struggling officers to the ground and raped their mouths and asses right there out in the open. Those bikers without a hole to fuck demanded a hand job. The writhing and grunting lawmen each anxiously serviced four boners at once.

Two thirty-something white guys in starched white shirts and neatly creased chinos hustled Nigger Pig inside a starkly furnished room and hurled his ass onto a damp mattress. The pompous pair dropped trow, ripped out his tail, and took turns humping his sloppy hole. He bit his fist to stifle his squawks. The twisted perverts rolled him onto his side, pitched his leg into the air, and forced their boners through his grotesquely distended sphincter together. “Not too at once,” he stammered. His ears rang, his vision blurred. The sons-of-bitches hammered his overtaxed rear for an agonizingly long while and blew sticky loads in his face.

As soon as they left, he limped into the bathroom, and tugged off his snout. He rinsed his mouth, plopped down on the toilet to squeeze out a painful dump, and staggered into the shower afterward to scrub his flesh raw. Even stuck a bar of soap up his sore butt to cleanse away the come. After toweling dry, he shoved his tail into place, which hurt like hell, popped on his snout, and dragged his ass outside to line up for another round.

By the time he got shoved inside his hogsty hours later, he had endured a dozen rapes. He dragged his excoriated butt under the tin roof and puked his guts out, setting off a chain reaction. McGee heaved, Logan barfed, and Santos spewed.
CONTINUE THE STORY:
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Breaking news from the Roman Empire by artist Cavelo.

Press Release: Gaul
by Cavelo

(KW: BC-PA-GAUL)
(x2960/MTM – A) A1909 02-28 0825
(ON-LINE WIRE WZO:D0275;NRBX;)
[WB]-GAUL (News)/L

ROME Reports […]

Seth Porter is forced to strip naked in front of the audience then attached to the “Flexi-Frame” where his angry ex-wife and an electro prod wreak havoc on his dangling testicles.

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 […]

Disgruntled dads get their chance to inflict some punishment in Tough Love Productions’ newest show “Man’s Hands”.

Selling Tough Love – Part 11 (Page 5)
by Kronmire4
Art by Amalaric
Series: Selling Tough […]

Dave’s virgin ass is fucked by a massive dildo machine simultaneously milking him of his loads.

24 Hours – Chapter 21: The Darkest Hour
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

‘Damn!’ Bobby exclaimed, ‘You are […]

Dave is bound to a bed while all of the night’s participants recover from the festivities.

24 Hours – Chapter 22: Dark Dreams and a Ray of Light
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

3:30 AM, and two sets of dreams swirled around the quiet corners of the sprawling ranch-style pile that the Hascombes called ‘home’. Well, maybe four sets of dreams if one considered the racing reflections or wild fantasies of the pair of players who remained awake. Roberta lay, sprawled on a divan in the darkened sun room; stripped naked, she casually masturbated imagining herself impaled on Dave’s hungry cock. She had often entertained fantasies of rape- but never envisioned herself as the victim. A slender finger lay buried to the second knuckle in the wet cleft of her silky mound, working slowly around the small knob, scratching an itch that never seemed to go away. She sighed and removed the finger, unable to match vivid imagination to its delicate touch. This would do for Brent’s worm-like appendage but not the artillery riding between the legs of my big marine. She laughed and, exhaling deeply, sank back into the fantasy. In her mind’s eye Dave lay stretched beneath her on the floor, hands bound over his head, legs jacked wide. Though gagged, his big blue eyes betrayed every thought; a potent mixture of terror, disgust and undisguised lust as she straddled him, hips grinding, savoring every unwilling thrust of his rock-hard rod that filled her to the brim…ahhhh, now that’s better!!! When had she picked up the empty bottle of merlot? No matter, its long neck was nearly the right size. She sank back on the divan, eyes half closed, and shuddered.

Bobby was also awake. Alone in the living room he casually surveyed the evidence of the evening’s carnage and grinned. He selected a Chris Isaak cassette and put it in the player. The melancholy music filled the room- Driving slowly, watching the headlights in the rain./Funny how things change. Thinking of good times, wishing you were still with me/the way it used to be- Graduation Day. Watching the stars fall/million dreams have all gone bad… The pale green sofa was streaked with drying blood, it’s back mottled with dark spots of still-damp semen. Admittedly primitive, but effective, toys littered the carpet; wires and whips…kittens with whiskers. Oh! These are the things… He burst into laughter and rubbed his crotch. What a night it had been, and Bobby still had so many plans! Hascombe, of course, had been right- the buck needed a rest (sigh). OK, but not too long. He envisioned Dave, stripped naked and tied spread eagle on the bed upstairs, blanked out from sheer stress and physical exhaustion. Brent had said not to disturb him for an hour…but Bobby was sorely tempted to tip-toe into the darkened room and wake the big stud up. How should he do it, he wondered? Maybe gently in order to bring him back slowly to resumed horror- a salted finger wormed surreptitiously up his abused asshole? Perhaps. Or something more jarring? Bobby considered the effect of paraffin, brought to a near boil, on taut skin covering work-hardened muscle… Reaching a decision, he turned toward the door and was surprised to see the banker standing at the threshold silently watching him.

Hascombe had slept for a while after shutting the door on his slave’s weary agony. Property needed maintenance and he didn’t want to ruin the boy with too much use. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep but, after changing out of clothing splattered with the crazed buck’s semen, he sank into an armchair in his study, a warm glass of Laphroaig clutched in one hand, deeply inhaling the bitter alkaline stains in the discarded trousers…and dozed off. The banker dreamed a disjointed symphony of hoarse, masculine pleas, golden muscle and flying sweat. Oddly, though, it was the sense of smell that pervaded the dream and gave it urgent substance. His rasping breath caught tendrils of naked fear on the still air and he wasn’t certain of the source. Heart pounding, he searched for distraction and buried his face in Dave’s hard chest- Ah! The pounding pulse of my tall, bound slave…his fear; not mine, not mine- sucking up the heady spice of the muscle-bound boy, a hint of drywall plaster, musty male potency harnessed and helpless. Hascombe snorted Dave’s scent as eagerly as the cocaine in his office drawer. He woke with a start, what was that??? Fading images all jumbled up left a bitter taste of anxiety in his mouth. His heart was pounding; a thought raced like lightening across his mind- where was Bobby and what might Roberta get herself up to if left to her own devices? Dave was his property, dammit!! I own him, and that thought, strangely comforting and oppressive at the same time, motivated Hascombe to jack his bulk out of the chair, set down the crystal shot glass of whiskey, and go exploring to…ah…make sure everything was in order.

Roberta was nowhere in sight, but the banker found Bobby easily enough fondling his toys in the living room. He read the fat man’s body language, guessed his intent, and felt the pressure of rising rage behind the fragile levy of his self-control. Bobby turned toward him, grinning, and the taxed levy was breached. Hascombe exploded. ‘You miserable son of a bitch!! Where do you think you’re going?!!’ Bobby’s mirthless smile remained fixed to his broad face. He shuffled (was he blushing??), narrowed eyes as black as ink, and replied, ‘Don’t know what you mean, Brent…’ ‘Ah, FUCK, Bobby!! You know exactly what I mean. Going upstairs for a little surreptitious fun? Seems to me you’ve had ALL THE FUN,’ his voice rose to a mewling shout, ‘and you haven’t even contributed a NICKLE…and, let me tell you (sputtering), slaves like Dave don’t come cheap!!!!! Could have ruined him an hour ago with your damn bazooka shoved up his ass- my investment, my boy. Who the hell do you think you are; waltzing into MY house, acting like the lord of the fucking manner???’ Bobby picked his nose and used every ounce of self-control trying to remain calm. Hascombe, teetering on a precipice all evening, had clearly toppled over the edge. ‘Seems like you’ve had a little fun yourself, Brent.’ His voice was far colder than the still, pre-dawn air outside. ‘GET OUT!!!!!!!’ Hascombe screamed and pointed a shaking finger at the front door. Bobby felt his own anger rising and, besides, there was still so much yet that he wanted to do. He imagined the tall, naked man bound to the bed upstairs. ‘Listen, Brent, not so fast,’ his carefully maintained smile disappeared. ‘How about if I spread the word about some of those internet sites you frequent? Or,’ he paused for effect, ‘maybe go home and get on the telephone to a few of your big shot society friends and let them know what you’ve been up to today?’ He was utterly shocked when Hascombe burst into laughter. More disconcerting by far was the apparent calm that descended like an inverted storm on the passionate outburst of seconds before. The banker matched Bobby’s cold tone then lowered the temperature further, ‘You do that, my young friend, and you…die.’ ‘Make me leave and…I’ll call the cops!’ Bobby’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. He was stunned seconds later as Hascombe strode across the room and grasped him by the balls through the damp denim of his black jeans. The banker adjusted his grip and twisted hard, laughing again as Bobby yelped. He leaned close and a hoarse, whiskey scented whisper filled the fat man’s ear, ‘Let me tell you something, big boy; half the cops in this town belong to me and the other half would line up outside that bedroom door. Now, you go home and,’ he sighed as if regretting unaccustomed generosity, ‘maybe I won’t make a few special phone calls myself. Hurry, before I change my mind because, if I do, your ample guts will be spread over a ten-mile radius like bright red bunting on the Fourth of July.’ Bobby squeaked assent and a tear navigated the zits on his cheek as the banker released his balls. He glanced at his toys scattered around the room, reconsidered, and headed for the door. Hascombe watched impassively, relishing the cocky bastard’s humiliation. The door slammed behind Bobby’s waddling ass and the old banker sighed, feeling better than he had, oh, maybe since the afternoon when he seared a flaming ‘H’ between the spread thighs of his slave on the picnic table…and that reminded him…

Roberta remained strangely incognito, which was slightly disturbing. Hascombe shrugged and giggled. Out of sight, out of mind…but there was someone upstairs very much on his mind. Time for a wake-up call.

Dave sank into exhausted sleep almost immediately after being bound to the bed…and dreamed. Fighting monsters (hadn’t had a dream like that since he was a kid), running for his life; rearguard action as something breathed down his neck in red fog under a twilight sky that special color of blue when the sun had set but it wasn’t quite dark yet. Such a beautiful color…so beautiful… He stumbled and the Beast was on his back, raking wide, bloody furrows and he knew that it was trying to get inside him, way down deep, to eat his soul. He could hear his mom and dad calling, but they were far away. ‘Stop!!!’ he screamed- not to the Beast, he knew that would be pointless- but to his folks. The dark thing could hear them, could tell where they were and its appetite was insatiable. The pain seemed unbearable and his fear sat like ice in the pit of his stomach, spreading a numbing lassitude outward, slowly paralyzing arms and legs…unshackled? Why did that surprise him? He wrenched free of the thing’s grip and felt sticky blood running down his back, soaking through his tattered tee shirt. Still surprised that he could move hands and feet, Dave knew an unreasoning rush of pure joy and the fear fled, well, almost, and in its wake he discovered a righteous anger kept since boyhood for special occasions in a tightly locked golden box. The monster hesitated, just out of sight behind a slow-moving cloud of black flies, but Dave knew it hadn’t given up, was merely considering and would quickly move in for the kill. He understood that his hope lay in the box and the fear rumbled back as he searched frantically for the key and couldn’t find it. ‘What the hell?’ His old gunny from days in the Corps stepped around a tumble of boulders. Hal Dawson’s dress blues were the same color as the sky. ‘Looking for this, grunt?’ He held out a bright key…

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER