GayBondageFiction

One of the PROLEX Panthers’ hunky new players finds himself in serious debt to a casino and must pay for it one way or another in second part of the series.

Baseball Games – Chapter 2: Payment Due – Page […]

Hunky baseball player Ty submits to a naked “audition” for his potential new gig in the horny casino boss’ office.

Baseball Games – Chapter 2: Payment Due – Page 2
by Luther5
Art by Amalaric
Series: […]

The humiliated straight baseball jock pays off his casino debt in front of a group of horny rich men in the conclusion to part two.

Baseball Games – Chapter 2: Payment Due – Page 3
by Luther5
Art by […]

A young baseball fan fantasizes about stripping the players at a baseball game he is attending with his father before being offered the opportunity to make that fantasy come true as an adult in this new series […]

27 young recruits for the a new baseball team are required to strip naked for examination and appraisal at a group tryout.

Baseball Games – Chapter 1: Athletes For Sale – Page 2
by Luther5
Art by […]

A horny guy with a fetish for police officers is arrested and taken to a secret facility in this new series from bbtallman.

V.P.P.O (Volunteer Prisoners for Police Operation): Parts 1 & 2
by bbtallman
Series: […]

The prisoner is taken to the VPPO’s location where he is processed in the intake facility.

V.P.P.O (Volunteer Prisoners for Police Operation): Parts 3 & 4
by bbtallman
Series: V.P.P.O

Part 3: VPPO Warehouse

Inside, it was a dark gray parking area. He pulled all the way forward and parked next to a large heavy door. The car was put in park and the officer got out of the car. We walked around the car to my door and opened it. He put his upper part of his body into the vehicle and reached over to undo my seatbelt. I started to plead with him, “Please! Where are we? What are you doing to me? Please just let me go! I’m sorry!”

He paused as we were face to face, smiled and said, “Can’t do that. Not up to me. Just doing what I am told.”

Puzzled, I asked, “Who is it up to?”

“The officer that handed you over to me. Officer Tim. Come on let’s go.” He grabbed by the arm and helped me out of the car.

I finally knew his name. But that is all I knew about him. I wondered what he all had planned for me. I kept imagining what had all happened so far. Deep down it was turning me on but I was extremely nervous. I hadn’t asked for this. I was technically being held against my will but who are people going to believe. Me? Or several police officers? It wasn’t looking good for me.

I happened to see the name tag of the officer who had brought me to the facility. He was Officer Gaelle. I didn’t know his first name yet but I really wanted to know. We got up to the door and he pressed the button on the wall. A couple seconds later, the door buzzed loudly and he opened it up and led me in.

Inside was dark and eerie. There was a long row of cell doors on both sides. It was deathly quiet to besides our footsteps. This wasn’t an ordinary jail facility. The officer stopped us and waited for the door to close. I noticed on the wall was a sign with directions. To the left was intake. Straightforward was the holding area. To the right, was the “VPPO” facility.

Officer Gaelle quickly led me to the left towards intake. We walked for quite a while until we came to a desk where a man was sitting behind the desk looking at some paperwork he had in in front of him. He looked up as we approached. They both nodded at each other and exchanged hello’s.

“What do we have here,” asked the man. He was wearing a gray polo shirt with a badge stitched onto it. I could see that he was wearing brown Khaki pants and black boots. I noticed Ehreberg stitched onto the front of the shirt indicating this man’s last name.

“VPPO participant,” responded Officer Gaelle.

Mr. Ehreberg acknowledged and got out a clipboard and paper work. “Officer putting him in the program?”

“Officer Tim Weir. Hold until 1100.” Mr Ehreberg noted that on the piece of paper in front of him.

“What trainings will he participate in?” He pulled out a checklist with different categories on them. My eyes started to widen in shock. These things I wanted nothing to do with. They would be torture.

I watched as Officer Gaelle went through the list. Bondage. Check. CBT (Cock Ball Torture). Check. Flogging. Check. Gags. Check. He was checking everything on the list.

I couldn’t keep quiet anymore. “Who the hell are you guys?” I yelled. “Let me go now. This is illegal. You can’t do this to me. I have rights. You are going to…AH AH MMPH.” A gloved hand reached around my head and covered my mouth and pulled my head back effectively gagging me. I didn’t see Mr Ehreberg walk around behind me as I was more interested in yelling at Officer Gaelle as he was the one that brought me here.

“There that’s better. We didn’t give you permission to talk.” He turned to talk to Gaelle, “Go into drawer five and pull out the muzzle in there. That should teach him to the alk without permission.”

Gaelle followed the instructions and went to the drawer. I could barely see him as Ehreberg had pulled my head back so I was looking towards the ceiling. I could hear rattling and clinking. Ehreberg forced me down to my knees and then I saw Gaelle walking over with the harness. It had all kinds of straps and belts attached to it. I could make out the section where the jaw goes in.

I started to struggle again trying to stand and to get Ehrebergs’s hand away from mouth but it was no use. He had too strong of a grip that I could barely move and he also was putting his weight up against me making me it even harder to struggle. Gaelle started by putting my chin in the big strap which also covered my mouth. He effortlessly managed to get all of the straps buckled and cinched tightly behind my head. This forced my jaw closed and since it was tight, I couldn’t move it to open my mouth. I wasn’t able to talk. The only noises coming from me we’re grunts and moans.

Once Gaelle was done strapping on the harness, Ehreberg loosened his grip on my head and handed me back over to Gaelle who put a tight grip on my arm. Ehreberg continued to fill out the paperwork.

After about thirty minutes of standing there, Ehreberg finally finished. He had Gaelle sign the bottom of it. Then he walked around the desk again and said to Gaelle, “Alright. I can prepare him for the VPPO facility. So go get set up. We’ll be down shortly.” Ehreberg grabbed me on the other arm as Gaelle let go. Gaelle turned away and walked back to where we had entered. Ehreberg directed me to a hallway behind the desk. A sign on the wall said preparing rooms. All I continued to think was “What did I get myself into?”

Part 4: Preparation

The hallway to the preparing rooms was dark and eerie. There were several doors to rooms that seem unoccupied. I couldn’t see anyone in them but all of the lights were off. We kept walking quite a ways until we arrive at a new area. Like the other room, there was a desk there with a computer. There were several chairs and benches that had handcuffs attached to them. I figured I was about to find out exactly what they were for.

Ehreberg brought me over to one of the benches and sat me down and made me lean all the way forward so my chest was touching my legs. I heard metal clinking and then the sound of hc ratcheting close. Ehreberg kept messing around back there and I couldn’t figure out why. It seemed he already had my handcuffs attached to the ones connected to the chair. I quickly found out.

I could feel my hands being pulled down towards the bottom of the chair. Eventually I was in the position where both of my arms were straight and stuck in that position as I couldn’t move my hands up or down. He must have tightened the slack on the handcuffs that were attached to the chair so I wouldn’t be able to move my arms. It was a very uncomfortable position.

Ehreberg patted me on the chest and then proceeded into a nearby closet. He pulled out a clear tub and brought it to an area that was behind a dark blue curtain. He pulled the curtain closed and then stepped out. He went back over to the closet and grabbed some more items. I couldn’t make out what they were but I saw the distinctive orange color of a prisoner uniform.

He set the stuff behind the curtain and then proceeded to walk back to me. He took out a device from his utility belt that was all yellow except for the black topped end. It was shaped like a gun. He pulled the tip of it of and pointed it at me. I didn’t know what it was and I started to squirm in the chair as i didn’t want to be on the receiving end on whatever that thing did. He put his finger on the trigger and began to squeeze. I has anticipating a loud gunshot noise but instead I heard a loud electric static noise. I quickly looked up and saw that there was a pulse of electricity coming out of the end.

The noise ended and all I could hear was Ehreberg chuckling at me. “That is a little taste of what you can expect if you misbehave. Understood?” I nodded my head up and down in response to the question. Ehreberg bent down and reached behind the chair. I could feel him messing around with the handcuffs and suddenly my arms weren’t being pulled down anymore. He quickly grabbed my arm and forced me to my feet. We walked over towards the curtain where he had put all of the items he had pulled out.

Upon walking behind the curtain, the first thing I noticed was that the room was a lot bigger than it appeared. There was a little metal table and a chair back there. I could see the uniform he had set out on the metal table. The chair, similar to the one he had put me in out in the lobby, had lots of straps attached to it. Ehreberg brought me over to a wall and had me lean up against the wall.

“I am going to take off your clothes now to up you in the uniform needed. Don’t try anything or the taser will come out. You understand?” Once again nodded in response. I had no interest in getting tased.

Ehreberg kept a hand on me at all times while removing my clothes. I figured he was doing it for two reasons: 1. To make sure I didn’t try anything and 2. To help me keep my balance as I would be trying to balance myself on one foot. He started with my shoes by tapping each foot individually so I would lift them. He quickly took them off, followed by my socks. Then he reached around to the front of my jeans and took off my belt and then unbuttoned my pants.

The slow removal of my clothes with being restrained was starting to make me aroused. My dick was slowly growing in my pants and by the time my pants were off he started to rub around on my hips and buttocks eventually reaching my dick. It felt so good and I wanted him to keep going but he stopped. I moaned in frustration when he stopped. He put the prisoner uniform pants on with ease. I almost lost my balance when standing on one foot but Ehreberg helped me from falling.

He stood up and faced me. “It’s time to remove your shirt. I am going to remove the handcuffs but if you try anything…” he paused as he reached around to his side and pulled out the taser and pushed it into my back and continued to say, “I’ll have my taser out the entire time and you will get tased.”

I nodded in understanding and he reached down and started to remove the handcuffs.I didn’t get a chance to massage my wrists because he had me put my arms up above my head. He pulled my shirt off and then unfolded the prisoner uniform shirt and put it on. Once on, he quickly grabbed my left wrist and brought it behind my back and did the same thing with the right. I wasn’t uncuffed for 2 minutes before they were put back on. He turned me around so I was facing him. He smiled at me and lightly tapped my cheeks. “Now is the fun part,” he said. His smile grew into an evil smirk. He pushed me up against the wall and put his left forearm on the upper part of my chest and leaning in making it hard to move. His right hand was moving up and down my chest, stomach and thighs. It was very slow and sensual. He eventually got to my dick, which was already hard. He grabbed on and started to stroke my dick. He went faster and faster and my eyes closed, my moans grew louder and louder, I was thrusting my hips in an attempt to shoot my load faster. I was so close and right on the edge and he stops.

I was basically crying loudly at the fact he stopped. I was right there and got really frustrated. I started to struggle in frustration but it was no use being held against the wall. All I heard was, “Not now boy,” and we were off to the next piece of my imprisonment.

TO BE CONTINUED….

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Dave’s forced labor in the backyard continues with some encouragement from the banker and his strap while the two discuss Dave’s experiences in the Marines.

24 Hours – Chapter 7: ‘Jarhead’ Revisited
by […]

Dave is strapped down to the table as the banker re-enacts the famous “branding” scene from the movie “Jarheads” on his captive ex-Marine.

24 Hours – Chapter 8: Backyard Barbecue
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

‘On your feet, boy, break time’s over.’ Dave swayed a little and turned toward the sledge hammer propped in a pile of loose dirt. ‘Not so fast. I told you about a dozen times already that bucks with attitude have to pay the piper. Over here,’ the banker motioned, improbably, to where his wife sat pouting under the wide umbrella. Ten feet away was what appeared to be a brand-new picnic table; the slickly varnished wood top drenched with bright sunlight.

Dave was ordered to sit on the edge. His feet were bound with nylon rope to one of the uprights. Hascombe moved to the side and, grabbing a handful of hair, slammed him on to his back with surprising strength. Roberta joined in the fun and nimble fingers secured his wrists to opposite uprights. The cuffs were then removed. Dave lay across the table, glistening in the sun like a perfect, well-proportioned sacrifice, naked torso heaving from cleft pecs to the pulse in his belly, muscular forearms and long hairy legs bent over the edge waiting for some unspeakable rite; a dark promise of agony. Hascombe picked at his crotch, savoring the fear radiating from his handsome victim. He didn’t intend to disappoint.

Dave was left in suspense, panting in the mellowing light of the late afternoon sun while Hascombe busied himself just out of sight. Suddenly in a jolly mood, the banker resumed the odd conversation interrupted by his captive’s brash outburst. ‘You guys must be tough as nails,’ he said. Dave listened with half an ear, staring at the sky. ‘Strapping buck like you probably got in his share of trouble too. Bet you did a lot of PT, right boy?’ Dave didn’t bother to answer. Jake what’s-his-name was a shitbird, pure and simple. Strange sounds wove a counterpoint to the tiresome conversation. Prostrate on the table, young McGuiness heard the crinkling of paper and a soft thudding of something soft/hard on metal followed by the splash of liquid like someone taking a piss. He recognized the sound of Hascombe lighting a wooden match and his nostrils dilated at the acrid smell of kerosene soaked charcoal smoke. What the hell? he thought, Fucker’s gonna cook up some burgers. Hascombe finished his preparation and returned to stand beside his splayed captive. ‘I’ve been hard on you, boy, because I knew you could take it. That’s what I admire about you guys; big mean studs kept in line by discipline…semper fucking fi!!!’ he laughed and slapped Dave’s belly with stinging force. ‘You just suck it up like the animal you are.’ Dave noted the rather delicate sound of Roberta puking in the well-trimmed bushes around the patio. Guess the little lady couldn’t suck up whatever it was, he thought ruefully. ‘Hey! Know what my all-time favorite scene was??’ The smoke had died down and Dave could feel the heat of the stand-up barbecue against the soles of his feet. His heart began to pound. ‘Remember when they branded the tough crazy guy with attitude? Damn, that was hot!!’ Hascombe paced excitedly, back toward the foot of the table, and the nervous buck’s ears pricked to the faint sound of metal on metal. ‘Well, Dave,’ he seemed to change the subject, ‘I guess it’s time I signed our little contract.’

It came to him in a flash. ‘Oh, no, man!! You can’t do this…you can’t…oh, fuck, man, please…’ twisting against the nylon rope, contract be damned, his folks could sleep in his living room if they lost the house…it just had to end, had to get out of here. Now! ‘You signed a contract, Mr. McGuiness, and I intend to hold you to it. I think it only fair that I sign as well…not a piece of paper, though. You, Dave; your big muscular body is what I own, and that’s what gets signed.’ The banker’s speech was drowned by a frantic yell as Dave screamed his pent-up rage and fresh desperation; part impotent threat laced with enough obscenities to make any jarhead proud, part wild plea, utterly irrational, devoid of any real hope. Hascombe frowned. There were no neighbors within at least half a mile, but the bellowing stud was making him nervous. ‘Gag him,’ he nodded toward his wife. The woman gripped Dave’s nose, pinching it closed, and jerked his head backward. A dirty rag was stuffed into his mouth and secured with white linen strips ripped from an old pillow case. Dave’s great blond head twisted back and forth banging against the unyielding wood of the table, darting blue eyes wild; reflecting a storm of emotion.

Hascombe’s hands were busy as usual. One traced the thick white-blond line of the terrified man’s eyebrows, while the other held a glowing brand inches from his face. The faint ‘mummph’ from beneath the gag ceased as the universe focused on the deep red glow of a crudely rendered letter ‘H’. Dave’s mouth went dry but his eyes compensated as a fat tear slid down his tanned cheek. The thrashing was over (for now) and he lay as still as stone, breathing fast through flared nostrils, mesmerized by the impossible horror inches away. The stud’s long body rocked with a relieved spasm as the brand was withdrawn. Hascombe pursed his lips in deep thought. ‘Got to decide where would be the best place to put this mark,’ he said as Dave groaned in denial and fresh tears coursed from imploring eyes. He cupped the ridge of pectoral muscle, rubbing a nipple with his thumb…and shook his head. ‘Don’t want to spoil the view.’ Tweaking the wiry carpet of fine gold on Dave’s shin, he suddenly paused, brightened, and slapped the firm flesh of the buck’s quivering inner thigh. Dave’s meaty upper legs were well developed and rippled with taut muscle. ‘Perfect,’ Hascombe exclaimed and laughed as his captive frantically slammed the twin columns of muscled flesh together, ‘I knew you’d put up a fight!’

Dave was left alone with his terror for a few minutes until Hascombe returned clutching a length of sawed off 2×4. ‘Darling, come over here, I need your help,’ he said and the woman eagerly sidled up for a better view. Gripping the struggling stud above both knees, he pulled them as wide as he could and Roberta inserted the bracing wood in the gap. Dave’s powerful legs were now levered wide and the sensitive skin of inner thigh ready for a fiery kiss. Hascombe whistled appreciatively at the sight of the big buck’s slack balls flopping from the gaping leg opening of his shorts. He reached out for a tentative caress, reconsidered, and withdrew humming that old Byrds tune, ‘There is a time for every season under Heaven.’ The brand was put back on the coals for a recharge and Dave waited, guts already on fire like roiling lead, to play his unwilling role.

‘You’re Hascombe goods now, boy- property of the bank.’ The brand twirled like a malevolent firefly in the still air. Dave held his breath, long torso tensed against the anticipated strike. Hascombe didn’t keep him waiting long. He laid a hungry hand against the warm muscle of the stud’s inner leg bracing the trembling fleshscape. Unable to resist, a baby finger snaked out and lightly flicked the exposed balls peeking from the gap in Dave’s briefs. With a slow, deliberate motion the bright red iron was pressed into the yielding muscle and held there. It took all of the banker’s carefully nurtured stamina to keep the brand in place for the twenty short seconds that sizzling stud and red-hot iron embraced. Dave went temporarily insane. A roaring gasp of scandalized agony ripped from the corners of the gag as his eyes rolled backwards and pent up breath exploded from his nose like a geyser. The already firm line of nylon rope binding him to the table thrummed an unknown chord as bloodied wrists and ankles jerked frantically upward. Dave’s thick chest arced off the table, full rib cage in stark relief, then came back down with a thudding crash, torso listing crazily on the hard wood of the suburban altar like a beleaguered ship fighting the perfect storm. Through it all, Hascombe held the course, gripping the brand pressed against the slave’s violated flesh for what seemed an eternity…and then it was over. Dave bit down on the gag and turned his head sideways into a pool of his own sweat and tears. Hascombe inhaled deeply savoring the last lingering scent that would, he thought (but he had the whole evening still…), forever represent the most erotic moment of his life. His wife poured them both another glass of Merlot.

+++

The charcoal wasn’t wasted. Dave was given a short rest and a chance to come to his senses; untied from the table, shackled once again at wrists and ankles and tethered like a dog to a tree. Roberta tenderly removed the gag and gave him some water to drink. He watched, as the afternoon’s agony ebbed through his body, while Brent Hascombe and his wife celebrated the time honored American ritual; burgers sizzling merrily on the grill. The smell made Dave sick but didn’t seem to affect his hosts. Long stemmed wine glasses tinkled in a satisfied domestic toast- ‘To the perfect day!!’ the banker laughed and refilled his glass.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A devoted boyfriend agrees to be painfully tortured as a birthday gift to his dominant partner.

A Very Painful Birthday Present
by Alan Baker Charlie
Download more of Alan Baker Charlie’s work on […]

It’s time to reward our hard working authors by voting for your favorite stories from September and October! You may vote for up to FOUR different stories. After placing your vote, enjoy this month’s bonus story.

VOTERS CAN WIN A PRIZE TOO!
One lucky voter will be chosen at random to receive a free month extension on their membership! (This excludes those with author/artist memberships)

BONUS FOR VOTERS
And as always, all of our voters can enjoy this month’s bonus story. Just follow the link below the results after you vote to access the story.

Poll closes 11/30/2017.

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Choose up to 4 stories.

Readers Poll for Sept & Oct 2017

• Stepson’s Doom – Part 7 & 8 by Kronmire4 / Art by Amalaric (18%, 12 Votes)
• 24 Hours – Chapters 1-6 by Amalaric (17%, 11 Votes)
• Blackmailing My Hunky Tutor by Leo1202 (15%, 10 Votes)
• Brains vs Brawn by Amalaric (14%, 9 Votes)
• Antebellum - Chapters 14 & 15 by Drum / Art by Amalaric (11%, 7 Votes)
• Selling Tough Love – Parts 1 & 2 by Kronmire4 / Art by Amalaric (9%, 6 Votes)
• Internet Predator - Part 3 by Briballus (6%, 4 Votes)
• Interrogation of a Rebel - Parts 1-5 by Guyonet (5%, 3 Votes)
• The Hunt for Superboy Chapter 14-Conclusion by Todd Fleming (3%, 2 Votes)
• Taking the Whip - Part 10 & Conclusion by Whiplash235 (2%, 1 Votes)
• Death on the Wheel by Guyonet (0%, 0 Votes)
• Tickling the Drunkard’s Soles by Denis (0%, 0 Votes)

Total Voters: 25

This Month's Voter Bonus Story: Poll Closed

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Prizes
The authors of the TOP 4 stories will receive their choice of the following prizes:
-$50(US) Visa Gift Card (US Only)
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-1 Month Membership to RusCapturedBoys.com

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Simply select the stories that have earned your vote then click on the vote button at the bottom of the choices to cast your vote and view current the results. Note: The “Vote” button is lightly colored but will become more visible when you highlight it. It is at the center of of the page under list of stories.

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Fry is taken outside, stripped naked and bound for another torture session….this time painful bastinado on his sensitive soles.

Afghan Hell: Part 13 – Bastinado
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: <a href="https://gaybondagefiction.com/tag/series-afghan-hell/&quot; title="Afghan Hell […]

Grey is worried he’ll never be able to break Fry down enough for him to give-in and give Grey what he so desperately wants. So Grey decides to just take what he desires from his helpless captive – his cum!

Afghan Hell: Part 14 – Time to Cum
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: Afghan Hell

A few hours later during the early afternoon, Fry was lying on his cot, his feet felt like fire and he was sleeping fitfully. He gradually woke to see Grey standing over him. “What do you want this time?” he mumbled. “Why not just go away and give yourself a good wank.” And he started to laugh, the effort sending hard pains shooting up from his feet.

Grey’s rage showed and he turned and ordered the guards into the cell. Telling them what to do they pulled on the chains that held Fry’s wrists and ankles until his body was pulled down the cot, his arms spread-eagled to the top corners. The guards used metal padlocks to secure the surplus loops of chain, locking them with keys and pulling him drum tight over the surface of the cot. His legs were wide open trailing down towards the floor where they were secured to metal rings set in the concrete. Grey watched one of the guards pocket the key then he dismissed them both telling them to have their meal break and to return to the cell after one hour.

Grey sat down on the edge of the cot looking along the squirming body of his prisoner. Pulling a knife from his pocket he slit through the clothes Fry was wearing until he lay stretched out totally naked. Fry’s chest heaved, betraying his fear as Grey leered and stretched his fingers. “I have put up with your snide comments and your rejection of me. I think it’s about time I stopped messing about and just take what I want from you laddie.” He leaned forward and caressed his chest, pulling the course blonde hair through his fingers. Fry fought back by jerking his body sideways and thrusting his torso up and down. He swore violently at Grey and spat on him. Grey reacted in fury. Squeezing his right pectoral with one hand he tapped down hard with the other. Fry almost fainted with the pain and bellowed loudly. Grey gave him no respite but immediately did the same on the other side and for the next ten minutes gave him a repeat performance of the muscle manipulation that had agonised him several days before.

At the end as Fry was still crying out and groaning and gasping, Grey fell forward on Fry’s chest caressing him and stroking him. Fry was almost sobbing, the pain still stabbing at him even as Grey’s now gentle fingers moved over him. As the agony receded on his frame, the big rough hands moving over him were strangely comforting. With alarm he realised what was happening. What his training had told him; that he would try to get close to his torturer, who was now the only person he could rely on for relieving his pain. He knew it could now go two ways, and he muttered, “Fuck you.” He whimpered and gasped. Then through clenched teeth he repeated the words, “Fuck you.”

The Scot’s fingers rubbed his nipples and Grey watched as the two pale points of flesh started to harden and push their way up from the surrounding spikes of light coloured hair. With one hand on Fry’s nipples, his other hand rasped over the spiky hair on his stomach into the thick wad of tangled hair surrounding his deep navel. Fry gasped as the rough fingers moved on down into the thick matted patch of yellow hair that covered his groin. Grey leant over his groin and took the flaccid penis into his mouth, running his tongue over the loose folds of the foreskin. Fry reacted in fury. “FUCK YOU!” Fry felt his penis responding and shouted again as Grey’s hand enfolded his shaft. “FUCK YOU!” Though still flaccid, his penis was twitching and the muscles spasmed there. “FUCK YOU!” Grey’s mouth moved away from Fry’s groin as he brought his other hand down and pushed hard on his scrotum making his penis stand up. “FUCK YOU!” Fry’s chest heaved and a huge sob racked him. “FUCK YOU!” Still sobbing and not quite believing what he was feeling and allowing, he felt his penis begin to swell. “FUCK YOU!” he yelled and started to chant. “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU!” The shaft in Grey’s hand lengthened and the fold of foreskin smoothed out stretching itself around the huge head. Fry’s voice rose to a crescendo. “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! Grey watched as the foreskin opened up and the head peeped through, slowly swelling through the opening until the whole shaft had hardened and stretched to impressive proportions and Fry began to curse Grey again, raising his head off the cot, looking straight into Grey’s eyes. Fry snarled, spittle spraying over Grey, “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU!”

The chant echoed through the cell and over the camp. Grey continued to massage Fry’s genitals, rubbing the palms of his hands over the swollen glans, and rolling it between the palms of his calloused hands making a sandwich of the huge shaft. He speeded up the movements rubbing the penis with his hands in opposite directions until Fry was gasping and groaning, his big matted chest rising and falling as he fought against his tight chains. Grey altered the position of his hands and, placing the palm of one hand flat on Fry’s lower abdomen over his pubic bone, he wrapped his other big fist around the thick shaft. As the hand on him started to slowly move up and down Fry started to shout and yell again, “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU!” Then suddenly stopped as he realised the beginnings of a flutter in his groin and the tingling that ran through his shaft.

Grey’s hands slid slickly over the glands causing Fry to shudder. Tears of shame stung his eyes as he involuntarily bucked his hips forwards and up. Now Grey’s hands were pumping furiously. There was a slightly mad look in his eyes as he gazed from Fry’s face and then down to his penis. The head was shining and the slit had opened up to a large round gaping hole. A thick milky fluid suddenly filled the hole as his pre-cum welled up. Grey rubbed the oozing glob over the swollen glans with his finger and Fry groaned and cried out. With Fry sobbing loudly now and his penis hard and thick in Grey’s fist, there were several violent spasms that Grey felt against the palm of his hand. Fry started to cry out again “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU! “FUCK YOU!”

Fry’s penis jerked once, then a pause and then another violent jerk and thick milky fluid shot out through the open slit, spilling through the air hitting Fry’s face and chest and slicking Grey’s hands. Fry gave great crying gasps in time with the spasms and continued chanting, but his spirit broken there was no feeling in the words, and as he quietened down he muttered, “Oh God. Oh God.” And gave a great shudder. “What have you done for fuck’s sake?” and tears coursed down his cheeks. “Get off me. For fuck’s sake get off me.”

Grey ignored him and wrapped his arms round his neck and shoulders and leant over him holding his own body close against him. Fry’s body continued to shake against him. Through his anger and hate an idea formed in his mind and gradually he let his head relax against Grey’s cheek. All he wanted now was to try to kill Grey, and without any real rational thought of the consequences he needed Grey to release him. He forced his breathing to slow down and rubbed his face against Grey’s cheek. Whispering in his ear he muttered. “Grey, do you want to fuck me?”

Grey murmured his assent. “Yes laddie. You know I do.”

Fry forced his voiced low. “Then do it.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“Because I need it. Because I realise the futility of this. Oh God Grey. Do you need a reason? I don’t know why. Look what you have done to me.”

Grey’s arms loosened from Fry’s shoulders and his hand trailed down Fry’s chest, rasping through the stiff spikes of hair. His fingertips brushed one of Fry’s nipples and as he continued stroking across it he watched its pale point harden again. Remembering the guards had the key to the padlocks that were holding Fry’s chains tight, he straightened up to summon them, before realising they were in the mess hall. Fry held his breathe as he saw Grey’s hand hesitate over his pocket before removing the keys that held the manacles to his wrists. As he released the cuff from Fry’s right wrist Fry began to turn over ostensibly to give Grey access to his body. Grey had to half stand to lean over the rising bulk of Fry’s torso. He unlocked the other manacle and all in one movement as his arm came free, Fry rose up on to his knees lifting his arms high with his fists linked together, which he brought down on the top of Grey’s head. As Grey went down Fry grabbed his throat with one hand and squeezing it brought his other powerful forearm in a lock round Grey’s neck.

He had not anticipated Grey’s reaction, which was fast and furious. As his breathe was cut off by Fry’s arm Grey knew that within seconds his opponent would use his other arm to break his neck. He brought his fists up, and swiftly stabbed with his rigid fingers at the crook of Fry’s elbow. He felt Fry falter and used this moment to repeat the blow, this time squeezing the bicep with his other hand. Fry gave a harsh grunt of pain and his forearms dropped away from Grey’s neck. Grey ducked aside and grabbed Fry’s flailing arms, falling down on top of his back pressing him on to the cot. He quickly touched his neck feeling for the appropriate spot and pressed down hard, tapping him hard with the edge of his other hand. Fry’s strong body arched and collapsed unconscious.

Grey rechained his wrists and watched as Fry regained his wits, shaking his head to clear the fog that had enveloped his vision. “Another time Grey. I can promise you that.”

Grey smiled. “Yes laddie, definitely another time. But I am not going to let this go unpunished. The guards will come for you in the morning. I will think of something very special to do you.” And with that he left leaving Fry gasping in frustration and anger.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Here’s a nice torture /interrogation scene that I came across and couldn’t help but share. A hot hairy guy stripped down and dealing with the psychological and physical torments of interrogation. Yum!

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