GayBondageFiction

Dave is finally stripped completely naked to the delight of his captors.

24 Hours – Chapter 10: Dave Sheds His Shorts
by Amalaric
Series: 24 Hours

Half an hour later and Dave found himself in a very different frame of mind. The reason was simple; Hascombe watered his boy then produced a small, intricately carved box and popped the lid. ‘Ever been to Marrakech, boy?’ Hascombe asked. ‘No, sir.’ Dave sat in the living room, hands bound behind his back with rope over the manacles, leaning against the sofa. ‘You can get anything there…exquisite boxes…but, oh!! Let’s see what’s inside!’ He laughed. ‘I think maybe we could all use a little pick-me-up,’ and he pinched some white powder from the box and greedily sucked it up his nose. His wife frowned and uncorked a fresh bottle of merlot. ‘Your turn,’ Hascombe said and scooped more of the white powder from the box. ‘I don’t do drugs, man…uh…sir,’ Dave replied. ‘Well, there’s a first time for everyone,’ Hascombe said and forcing open the stud’s wide mouth, laid a generous line of the powder on his tongue. Dave gagged on the medicinal taste and felt a moment of panic as his tongue went numb. Seconds later he forgot the numbness as a warm glow of delicious power coursed through his body, loosening cramped muscles, banishing all weariness, forcing his pain to a peripheral perspective. His mind suddenly felt impossibly clear, but in a specific way; focused on his body, rippling waves of energy prickling his skin, raising a light sweat, heart pumping oxygen-rich blood to his extremities…he was suddenly conscious of a comfortable warmth at his crotch. Hascombe smiled and raised his tuneless voice in a parody of the famous Clapton song, ‘If you wanna get down, down on the ground, Cocaine! If you got bad news, you wanna kick the blues, Cocaine! She’s alright, she’s alright…’ ‘Oh, shut the fuck up Brent,’ Roberta muttered, almost inaudible, and turned away in disgust. The banker recollected himself, blushed, cleared his throat and said, ‘Get up, boy. Time to get you stripped down.’

Dave struggled to his feet flexing feeling into numb hands as the rope was cut and instinctively shuffled to the center of the living room. The time had come to lose his tattered briefs and that long anticipated moment, though as mysterious in its timing as Judgment Day, was just as inevitable. He waited, head bowed, hands- again loosely bound by the manacles alone- hanging at his side. ‘Let’s have a look at you, boy,’ Hascombe grunted with pent up expectation, ‘Hike down your shorts and show us what kind of a stud you are.’ Dave’s battered, deadened sense of humor feebly asserted itself; Not very subtle, are you, goddamn motherfucker, he thought ruefully and hooked long thumbs in the elastic waistband. Gripped by a bizarre (given the circumstances) sense of modesty and asserting, at least, a ritual sense of defiance, he turned his back to the banker and slowly lowered his briefs. Modesty not withstanding and fragile defiance noted and dismissed, Hascombe (after a quick perusal of Dave’s firm, creamy ass) roughly ordered him to turn around.

The big, handsome slave did as he was told; energized by the drug, conscious of his body as never before, his muscles supple again and a scandalous buzz in his barely flaccid cock. Dave followed the banker’s hungry gaze with disgust as it quickly roamed the sculpted contours of naked muscle traveling in a zig zag pattern across broad shoulders, lingering over massive pectorals, down the defined ridges of tensed abdominals to rest, finally, on the sought-after prize. His hands jerked involuntarily under the scrutiny in an instinctive attempt to cover his groin; to no avail, the chain was too short. Dave stood with his briefs hiked down, nude for all practical purposes and on display, as waves of unaccustomed humiliation washed over him and Hascombe, appreciating what the moment meant to the buck, let it drag out in exquisite leisure. His hands, however, had other ideas and an urgent agenda of their own. ‘Come over here!’ he barked and Dave, lowering eyes brimming with confused anger and shame, slowly crossed the room to stand before his master.

Hascombe took a deep breath thinking of the many nights he had lain awake, the McGuiness dossier fresh in his mind, visualizing the tall blond son; former marine lately in construction. In a sense, Dave had been through this very scenario a thousand times as he stood naked in the banker’s rich imagination, proud cock and balls on helpless display. Occasionally, Hascombe wondered if the reality would match his expectations; well, now he knew…and smiled broadly. The buck’s six foot three inch frame towered over his portly captor, head bent in submission, hands safely shackled as he waited, unveiled, for the master’s pleasure. He’s perfect, Hascombe sighed inwardly, and reached out with a trembling hand. Dave’s cock jutted at a healthy forty five degree angle from a thick nest of dark bronze pubic hair. Over an inch wide at the root, the long shaft arced gracefully forward more than four inches to a flaring, smooth rimmed head dangling precipitously over a full scrotum lightly dusted with finer, silky blond hair. Though his legs weren’t spread, Hascombe still had a decent view of the stud’s packed balls as they rode, one slightly higher than the other, in the loose confines of their sweaty sack. Eager fingers brushed the wiry bush of pubic hair, marveling at the rough texture, then traced the ticklish length of silky skin along the track of a pulsing vein up the thick length of Dave’s captive penis and circled the sensitive head. Standing as still as a statue throughout the initial examination, Dave’s mind retracted to a molten core of mixed emotions; blazing anger, fear, and an irrational but overpowering sense of shame stoked by his helplessness, the obvious lust radiating from the banker, and the incongruous stimulation beginning to thicken the already prodigious girth of his big, manly dick. He had been staring at an invisible point on the thick carpet, which seemed like a good idea but wasn’t. Fleeing the reality he was quite literally shackled to by focusing on a far point freed his mind for other associations. It was Cathy’s delicate hand that belonged on the warm length of his manhood, teasing his virility to eager attention, inviting the slick, bobbing battering ram to ritual warfare where the castle capitulated with screams of pleasure. His mind knew the difference between Cathy’s hand and Hascombe’s but it was lost in roiling emotion trying to focus far away on an invisible spot in a sea of gray carpet. Left on its own, his dick surrendered to joyful habit and did what came natural. Dave came to his senses with a long shudder that wracked his taut body like an earthquake. Hascombe felt and measured the seismic movement through the pulsing rod he held in his hand and responded with one of his own, ironically, for similar and also vastly different reasons. Dave frantically wrenched his gaze from nowhere and, against all instinct, forced it down to Hascombe’s hand. The spell was broken. He watched with horror as the banker lightly stroked the head of his cock trying to provoke an erection and inwardly cursed. He didn’t go that way! Oh, no fucking way!!!!

Hascombe seemed momentarily confused as Dave’s stiffening cock went soft in his hand. He shrugged, consoling himself with the thought that the night was young, and roughly cupped the stud’s ripe balls, measuring the hot weight, the packed potential of exploding man juice pent up, saved for some undeserving bitch. Well, she might eventually get a dribble, but not until he had a chance to milk this young bull for all he was worth…and Hascombe reckoned he was worth a lot. He giggled like a school boy considering the fun to be had and the thought drew his attention to the packed state of his own balls. ‘Poor Roberta,’ the banker thought sarcastically, ‘hasn’t been fucked in two weeks…Oh! That’s just so damn sad. But what about me?’ Aside from the regular attention of his own dexterous right hand, the banker hadn’t known release since a wild, anonymous fling down in Mexico fifteen years ago. ‘Well, no sense in wasting more time,’ he muttered and, dropping Dave’s balls after a last painful squeeze, reached up and unbuckled his belt. Dave watched, mesmerized, realizing what it all meant, but pretending not to, while the banker fumbled with buttons and unzipped his trousers. He cautiously shook his head in disgust as Hascombe revealed a sky blue nylon thong under the drab polyester, punctuated by the sharp point of his straining pecker and the low dip of shriveled nuts nestling at the crotch. ‘Down on your knees, boy!’ The command was urgent, concise. ‘Why?’ Dave asked, stalling for time, forgetting to say ‘sir’. The master rolled his eyes and, ignoring the impertinence, sarcastically shot back, ‘Because I own you, boy.’ He tweaked the tacky scab on Dave’s branded thigh and the big stud yelped in pain. ‘You are my slave and slaves serve their masters. It’s like digging that trench out back,’ his tone was modulated like a teacher addressing a thick headed, recalcitrant student, ‘but, in this case, you are the trench! Now, get down on your knees and open up that warm, wet, handsome mouth of yours.’ Dave squared his shoulders, tensed the rippling muscles of his belly, took a long, slow breath and said, ‘I won’t do it Hascombe. You can fucking kill me if you want to…but the answer is no.’

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

When a hunky gay weatherman loses a card game with his kinky best-fuck-buddy and a young hot conquest, he learns submission and earns a handsome reward in the fun story from new author Robcot. Art piece by Cavelo.

Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker
by robcot
Series: Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker

I want to set the record straight about me and Ted Bricker. No, I am not his slave. Not anymore, at least. Let me explain.

This is nice college town, but the gay community is somewhat small. Ted and I had been on-and-off fuck buddies for a while. I like the guy, but we aren’t totally into the same thing. Like, I knew that he was always into bondage, but I never really was.

It was Ted who introduced me to Billy. Ted and I were hanging out at the Tight End Sports Bar two weeks ago on a Saturday night, chatting a bit, and both of us probably thinking about taking each other home if no better prospect came along. Then I got a glimpse of Billy. Billy was new. Billy looked young, maybe 22 or 23, and was movie star gorgeous. All the guys were looking at him, and it looked like Billy wasn’t wasting time, because he was already heading out of the bar with some other hot young thing.

“Who is that?,” I asked.

“Ah, that’s Billy,” Ted says. “He just started working at the athletic department with me last week. Kid just moved into town.”

“Working for you guys doing what, modelling?” I asked.

“Some kind of marketing guy, I don’t know,” Ted said, smiling. “But he was a model. Or is. He was in an Abercrombie ad.”

“No shit?,” I asked.

“Yeah, back before they fired their gay CEO, and those ads were all basically soft-core porn. Remember that one with five dudes smiling at the camera while they wrestled in their underwear? He was the one who was losing,” Ted said.

“I remember,” I said.

“You want to meet him sometime?,” Ted asked.

“Set it up,” I said.

Ted agreed. We said bye and circulated. I went home with someone else that night.

But a few days later Ted called me told me he had set it up, just a small party for the three of us.

“Dude, he saw you,” Ted said. “Or, he’s heard of you. You’re famous or something.”

“Really? I’m surprised,” I said.

“Yeah, because, you being a weatherman for Channel 4, no one would ever see you,” Ted said sarcastically.

“You’d be surprised how few guys his age watch the local news,” I pointed out.

“Well, then, he’s a star-fucker, because he totally wants to meet you,” Ted said.

“Wait, who are we talking about, here? Abercrombie?,” I asked.

“Billy, yeah, the sports marketing guy,” Ted said. “Come by my place Friday night. I’m inviting him over, too. We’ll have fun together.”

So I went to Ted’s apartment that Friday night, showing up around 9. Ted lived on the ground floor of a classic old apartment building.

Billy was there, looking gorgeous. He was wearing a tight, bright red T-shirt and tight jeans. We struck up a conversation. He told me he’d seen me on the news. I told him I’d seen his Abercrombie ad.

“Oh, that thing,” Billy laughed. “They had us out there on that shoot for three hours in the early morning. It’s a really long time to be in your underwear.”

“I’ll bet it is. Usually, you get out of them pretty quickly, right?,” I asked.

Ted walked in with drinks.

“So, are we going out?,” I asked him.

“We could, but, Billy and I were talking, and had another idea,” Ted said.

“Yeah,” Billy said, “we skip the bar, and just fuck each other silly.”

“I— I could get with that plan,” I said.

I reached down to my waist and started pulling up my T-shirt.

“Hold on,” Ted said. “We were thinking, first, a little game. To decide who gets to do what to who.”

“How about, I fuck anyone who moves?,” I said.

“Charming,” Billy said, rolling his eyes. Uh oh, I thought; too bold.

“Simple game of strip poker,” Ted said. “Lose your clothes, and become a slave. Last guy wearing anything calls the shots until the sun goes up.”

I was about to remind Ted that I didn’t go for stuff like that, but then Billy chimed in.

“I’m in. I’m so totally in,” Billy said.

“Explain the rules?,” I asked.

“Simple five-card stud. Each hand has one winner, and two losers. The winner picks one loser, and makes him take something off. We start wearing T-shirt, pants, and underwear. Fuck shoes and socks, that’s a waste of time. Once you’re naked, you’re out; the last guy with clothes gets two slaves for the evening.”

“None of your S&M stuff, though, right?” I asked.

“Nothing anyone isn’t comfortable with, no,” Ted said.

The truth was that while I wouldn’t mind having Billy as a slave, or Ted even, I didn’t relish the prospect of being a slave to Ted. I’m pretty much a top, and not submissive at all. But Billy was looking at me with fuck-me eyes. He was the hottest thing to come into view in at least three months. I really wanted him. And he was totally into this game idea. Well, I thought, at least I had only a one in three chance of being enslaved to Ted. And, this won’t take long. So, I shrugged and agreed to Ted’s game.

The first hand went fast. No one took much time deciding what cards to throw away. I started with nothing, threw away three cards, and ended up with two pair. That was enough to win: Ted had a pair of threes, and Billy had nothing at all.

“That makes it easy for me to pick,” I said. “Billy, your shirt, please.”

Smiling, Billy pulled that tight red T-shirt off his body. His body surprised me; he was more muscular than I had expected. He had obviously been working out since that Abercrombie ad. He looked even hotter: abs, biceps, gorgeous chest, everything.

“Marketing assistant, my ass,” Ted said, laughing. “You’re angling for another modeling job, aren’t you?”

“I keep in shape, and I’m not afraid to admit it,” Billy said, smiling.

OK, with that, I knew I wanted the fucker naked. And enslaved, if that’s how we were going to do things tonight. Enslaved to me, preferably, but I would take what I could get.

On the second hand, I had nothing after the deal, and still had nothing after trading three cards. Billy, again, had nothing. But Ted had a pair of twos.

“Strip, Tracker,” Ted said.

I took off my shirt, and tossed it next to Billy’s discarded red t-shirt on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Billy said, “You would look damn hot in a slave collar, you know that?”

I sneered and winked at Billy.

Third hand. This time Billy won.

“I gotta see the rest,” Billy said. “Tracker, throw those jeans away.”

I hesitated.

“Hey, Billy, have you noticed that our host is still fully dressed?” I asked.

“Hey Tracker, have you noticed that your pants are still on?” Billy countered.

So that’s how it was going to be, I thought; two against one. Well, it was kind of late to back out now. I took off my jeans, unceremoniously pushed them down to the ground, and kicked them toward the pile of clothes on the floor.

“He looks hot when he gets pissed off, doesn’t he?” Ted asked Billy.

I was wearing only my underwear, white Andrew Christian boxer briefs. They were designed not so much to enhance my crotch but just to give my crotch its proper credit. They were doing my job, because that is where Billy was staring. I took another glance at his bare chest and decided that, yes, I was actually pretty happy with how the night was going so far.

Ted was the dealer this time. He dealt the fourth hand. I had three fives. I traded the other two cards, but didn’t improve my hand. I noticed that Ted didn’t trade any cards. Uh-oh.

Billy had a pair of Aces, and Ted had three threes. I won.

For a moment, I admit, I thought of making Billy strip down to his underwear, too. But letting Ted stand there fully dressed while Billy and I stripped each other would have been idiotic. In fact, I realized, that had been Ted’s plan all along. Ted knew Billy and I were hot for each other and he planned on us making each other strip, so he could swoop in and take us both as slaves. That fucker.

“Ted, hand it over,” I said.

Ted took his shirt off. I had seen him shirtless a thousand times, and so had most of the rest of the city, but it never got old: He had a great body. Like me, he was really muscular.

“Anyone want a beer?,” Ted asked, as he walked toward the fridge.

Billy said yes, and I said no. Ted took two bottles out of the fridge. Then he opened a drawer and grabbed some things out of there.

“What are those?,” I asked.

Ted threw two weirdly misshapen pieces of black leather and chrome buckles toward my feet.

“Get a good look,” Ted said. “Tonight’s slaves are going to be wearing them. Ready for your last hand?”

I felt myself clenching my buttcheeks together ever so slightly, as I thought about the cotton designer underpants that were, for the moment, all that stood between me and a nighttime of degradation at the hands of Ted, or Billy, or both. But, then, they were each only two hands away from slavery themselves, I thought.

I had to deal the fifth hand. My hand was a pair of tens. Billy had nothing. Ted had a pair of Jacks. Fuck. Ted beat me.

Ted didn’t even say anything. He just pointed at me, and then dropped his finger to the floor.

I didn’t want to look bashful or scared, so I unceremoniously pulled down my boxer briefs and tossed them away from me. Then, I put my hands on my hips, letting my erect cock stick out and point at my two shirtless masters.

“What happens to him now?,” Billy asked. “Can we make him do stuff?”

“Nope, he goes into the pot,” Ted says. “You and I keep playing. Winner takes all, including this slave,” Ted said, pointing at me.

I thought this was going to feel a lot worse than it did, but something about the way that Billy stared at me made me feel good about being the only naked guy in the room.

Ted picked a leather thing off the ground and walked behind me.

“Hands behind your back,” Ted said.

I pretended I didn’t hear that.

“Hey dickhead,” Ted shouted, “Ignore me again, and I’ll reconsider that promise about no S&M.”

I put my hands behind my back, and Ted fastened them high up, near my shoulder blades. The cuffs had a strap running from them to a thick leather collar, which Ted attached around my neck. He took his time, making sure his fingers stroked my sensitive neck. The fucker knew I was ticklish. I twisted to get away, but the collar strapped to my wrists left me with almost no freedom of movement.

“Holy shit, that’s great,” Billy said, walking up to my body.

“Laugh it up, Abercrombie, because he’s going to get you next,” I said.

“Slave, don’t speak until you’re spoken to. In fact, don’t speak at all,” Ted said.

I didn’t see it coming, but when I opened my mouth to speak Ted shoved a ball gag in there, and strapped it behind my head.

“Look at how much he’s enjoying this,” Billy said, pointing to my growing cock.

“Yeah, he always told me he wasn’t into this stuff, but I always thought he was a liar,” Ted said. “We had better collar that thing before he shoots on my rug.”

Collar that thing? I didn’t realize what he meant. I saw that Ted was holding something below his waist and was heading toward me. The stiff, thick collar around my neck prevented me from bending my head down to take a look.

Ted grabbed my balls, and wrapped a strap around their base; then, he grabbed by cock and shoved it through some sort of ring. He pulled some sort of strap and my cock and balls both were pulled away from my body.

Billy looked at me like a football quarterback looks at a cheerleader. Ted looked at me like a lion looks at a slab of meat. I began to feel really uneasy.

“Shall we keep playing, then?,” Ted said to Billy.

“Absolutely,” Billy said.

Ted dealt a hand. I watched, helpless and mute, as they gambled to see who would own me for the night. Both Ted and Billy discarded three cards. When they turned over their hands, I couldn’t tell who had what, because I couldn’t bend my head. But Billy sighed, so I knew he lost.

Billy took off his jeans. He was wearing a pair of gray briefs. For dramatic effect, he spun around to reveal his tight, near-naked ass to both of us.

So, a word about me, and gray briefs. I have very few fetishes, but gray briefs are one of them, and they are huge for me. As soon as I see them, I get turned on. I could be walking through a fucking clothing store, see a three-pack of gray briefs, and start getting a hard-on. It’s at this point pretty well known in the community that if you want to get me into bed, just let me see you in gray briefs. A fat fifty-year old with back hair and a severe skin disease could get me into his bed if he wore gray briefs.

But now, this beautiful man, who I was already hard for, was in front of me, flaunting a perfect pair of gray Calvin Kleins, and here I was, naked and ready to go, but totally helpless to do anything about it. For me, it was a taunt. For Ted, it was an advertisement.

“He seems excited,” Billy said, pointing at me.

“Yeah, Tracker’s got a thing for gray briefs. Watching you right now is probably torture for him. Too bad, the night isn’t going the way he planned,” Ted said, smiling.

My heart sank. My best shot here was to become Billy’s slave, not Ted’s. But Billy was one pair of gray briefs away from joining me in slavery, and Billy had been playing like an idiot all night.

Just then, there was a knock on Ted’s front door. Still shirtless, he went to the door and opened it. I quickly moved to a corner of the room where I thought I couldn’t be seen. Billy also stepped to the side.

“Hey, neighbor,” Ted said, through the door.

“Hey, Ted,” the neighbor said, “Sorry to bother you. But, uh, you know that money we talked about?”

“Yeah?,” Ted asked.

“Here’s five bucks,” the guy said.

“Thanks,” Ted said, accepting a bill. “Catch you later? I’ve got guests.”

“Oh, sure, sorry to bother you,” the guy said.

“No bother at all,” Ted said, as he started to close the door.

But then, Ted stopped suddenly, as though he had just remembered something.

“Oh, hey, Frank?,” Ted called out, down the hall.

“Yeah?,” said the guy, whose name I guess was Frank.

“That saucepan I borrowed from you. Do you need it back? It’s right here in my kitchen,” Ted said, opening the door wide.

“Oh, sure,” I heard the voice say.

And then I saw Frank walk in. More importantly, he saw me. Frank looked at me and Billy, and stopped in his tracks. Frank was a preppie looking type, nerdy even, wearing khakis and a polo shirt. His face changed from astonishment to a slight smile. Then he looked away.

Frank went into the kitchen, and grabbed a saucepan off the stove. As he returned, his eyes lingered a bit longer as he stared at me and at Billy’s near-naked body.

I looked away from Frank and glared at Ted, hard. Through my gag I tried to curse him out. Showing me off to Frank like this was just not cool.

“You guys have a good night,” Frank said. He walked out the door and Ted shut it.

Billy broke out laughing.

“That guy looked at Tracker and me like he’d never seen male nipples before,” Billy said.

“Yeah, Frank has got issues. But anyway, ready for your final hand, Billy?,” Ted said, shoving Frank’s bills into his pocket.

“Fat chance,” Billy said. “I’m going to get those jeans.”

But if that was Billy’s plan, he didn’t play like it. He took the five cards he was dealt and threw nothing away. Ted, by contrast, exchanged two cards.

Once again, I couldn’t see their hands. But Ted immediately whooped with joy when they turned over, and my heart sank.

Billy turned so that his ass was facing me, and he pulled down the gray briefs. I desperately wanted to see that cock, that one part of him that had remained hidden, but it didn’t happen. Ted walked behind him and strapped some leather wrist cuffs onto Billy, securing his hands behind his back.

“Don’t move,” Ted ordered Billy.

Then Ted spoke to me.

“Tracker, this Abercrombie model and I are going to need the apartment to ourselves for a little bit,” Ted said. “Don’t worry, I own you until morning; I’ll take care of you. But, for now…”

Ted let his voice trail off as he stepped toward a sliding patio door. He unlocked it and pulled it open, then pulled back the vertical hanging blinds.

Ted’s apartment, like all apartments in his building, faced a central shared courtyard. Ted had a very small concrete patio out there.

“Tracker, please step outside,” Ted said, smiling broadly.

I jerked my head sideways at Ted. He couldn’t be serious.

“Sorry, that was a bit vague of me,” Ted said. “Slave, I order you to go outside on that patio.”

To emphasize his point, Ted put his hand on my naked butt and pushed me forward toward the patio. I closed my eyes in shame briefly, but then obeyed. I walked outside and heard the patio dorm shut behind me, and the click of the lock.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Ted’s nosy neighbor makes another appearance and negotiates a deal.

Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker – Part 2
by robcot
Series: Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker

I looked around. The patio was completely bare; Ted had not so much as a cheap Wal-Mart plastic chair out there. I thought Ted used to have at least a small barbecue grill out there, but there was nothing out there, absolutely nothing. The bare concrete was cold under my feet, and the nighttime air against my skin constantly reminded me of how naked I was.

I was out there for maybe thirty seconds when a light next to me turned on. It was a very bright, very powerful spotlight type outdoor light. That bastard Ted had just turned it on from inside his apartment.

With the light shining on me, I was on display for anyone on the courtyard who cared to look outside. The patio’s only barrier was a completely pointless fence, a lattice-type fence with tons of holes in it. The fence only went about three feet high. It provided almost no privacy.

So I bent down as far as I could, squatting in the corner, letting my legs and knees shield my dick and chest from prying eyes. I shivered as I felt the cold concrete on my feet and the soft cold wind against my skin, but there was nothing I could do. I closed my eyes and started to think about what Billy looked like naked, and how nice it would be to fuck that Abercrombie ass.

Then I heard the patio door open. But the sound came from too far away. It wasn’t Ted’s door, but the one right next to us.

“Hey, there,” Frank said, as he walked out onto his own patio.

The ball gag firmly in place, all I could do was turn my head toward Frank and open my eyes wider.

Frank easily stepped over the useless decorative fence and bent down to examine my gag.

“Turn around for me, and I’ll get this off you,” Frank said.

Still remaining squatting, I shifted my body around so that Frank could get access to the back of my head. I felt his fingers behind my head, and then felt the ball gag loosen and then fall out of my mouth.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem. Are you OK?,” Frank asked.

“Yeah, a little cold, maybe,” I said.

“Just checking,” Frank said. “You gay guys throw really interesting parties, you know that?”

“Yeah,” I said, not sure how to answer.

“What was that thing on your dick, by the way? I didn’t get a good look before,” Frank said.

“I didn’t either,” I said.

“Well, why don’t you stand up, so I can take a look?,” Frank asked.

“I’m good,” I said.

“No, come on, I’m really curious,” Frank said.

Frank gently grabbed a D-ring that was jutting out from my collar, and pulled up. He didn’t exercise much force, but it made the collar cut under my jaw. I had no choice but to stand up.

“That’s better,” Frank said.

Frank started examining whatever contraption Ted had wrapped around my balls and the base of my dick.

“Wow, that must hurt,” Frank said. “These are called cock rings, right? I’ve read about those. Only this is going around your scrotum, too. All that keeps the blood in there to keep it erect, right?”

I didn’t answer.

“And this, around your balls, probably keeps you from ejaculating. Nice,” Frank said.

“Yeah,” I said, not sure what else to say.

“So, like, no matter how stimulated you get, you’re not going to shoot, right?,” Frank said.

And, while he said it, Frank touched my dick.

“Hey,” I said, pulling back.

“Aw, relax, gay guy. I’m just a curious straight dude. Hey, how many guys have you fucked?,” Frank asked.

I glared at him and prepared a response, but he cut me off:

“I’m just messing with you, man, don’t answer that. But, I mean, fuck, what a body you have! You gay guys are always so built. You work out a lot?,” he asked.

“Yeah, around two hours a day,” I said.

“Jesus! I mean, these pecs,” Frank said, as he slowly ran a finger across my chest, “these pecs are bigger than my last girlfriend’s tits.”

“I guess that would be true of most twelve-year-old girls, yeah,” I shot back.

“I think I liked it better with you being gagged,” Frank said.

And with that, he shoved the ball gag back in my mouth, and tightened it around the back of my head.

“Your ass,” Frank asked, still standing behind me, “how many guys have been in there? Ten? Twenty? Go ahead, answer. Stamp your foot for the number of times.”

I didn’t move.

“None? Oh, Tracker, I’m sure that’s not true,” Frank said, laughing.

I twisted my head and looked at him. He said my name!

“Yeah, I know who you are. Of course I do,” said Frank. “Tracker Shotts, weatherman for channel something or other on the news. If I were you, I’d do my weather reports shirtless. You’d get even more ass than I’m sure you do now.”

For some reason that made me think of the fan mail I’d received after I actually did that once, reporting on a triathlon.

“So Ted just left you out here, huh? He decided to fuck that younger dude, I bet. Well, I hate to see you left out here, naked and everything. Want to come into my place?,” Frank said.

I pulled back. I was better off squatting.

Looking directly at me, Frank pounded on Ted’s glass patio door. Knocking. There was no response, so Ted pounded again.

I heard the patio door unlock and Ted slid it partway open. He stood behind the blinds, showing enough of himself so we could tell he was naked, and sweaty, and obviously in the middle of something.

“What?,” Ted asked, angrily.

“Here’s the final five bucks,” Frank said, handing Ted a five dollar bill. “I get him all night, right?”

Ted accepted the money and spoke to me.

“Yeah. Tracker, you’re my slave, right? Well, slaves can be sold, and I just sold you, to this twisted, confused straight guy. Do whatever he says, and let him do whatever sick twisted thing he wants to your body, OK? Come back in the morning for your clothes.”

Ted slammed the door shut and locked it again.

Fuck, I thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And then another part of me thought: Just $10?

Frank hooked his finger into the D-ring on my collar and pulled me forward.

“Come on, Tracker Shotts,” Frank said.

He stepped over the pointless fence onto his own patio, and opened the door to his apartment. He made me follow him. Once we were in his living room, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

Frank started walking around me, staring at his new purchase. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do next.

“Yeah, I get it,” he said, softly, “I get why guys would want to fuck a guy like you. I think I could go for you, easily. Right?,” Frank said, like he was expecting me to respond through my gag.

“Tell you what,” Frank said. “I know this is kind of weird for you. But play along for me, OK? I’ll make it worth your while. Your friend Ted over there told me that he’d sell that other guy, the Abercrombie guy, too, once he’s done with him. You’re more my type, of course, but if you play along, I’ll buy Abercrombie for you, and watch you jam this thing into his tiny butt,” Frank said, touching my dick when he said “thing.”

In my slave collar I could barely nod, but I nodded, as vigorously as I could.

“Let me hear that from your own mouth,” Frank said, and he removed my gag.

“Yeah, if you eventually let me have a shot at fucking Abercrombie, I’ll let you use my body for the night,” I began.

“Good,” Frank said, cutting me off. “So, I heard you gay guys suck cock better than chicks. Let’s see how well you do.”

Frank pushed me down to my knees. Then he took his dick out of his pants and waved it in front of my face.

Sucking cock was not my favorite thing to do, far from it, but I certainly wasn’t new to it, and I kind of knew what I was doing. Also, while Frank was so far a total asshole, his face was kind of cute. So, what the hell, I played along. As soon as I started, Frank started shouting.

“Holy shit, you’re good at that, keep going,” he said.

His dick became hard quickly, and I kept up with it. But then suddenly he pulled out.

“OK, OK,” Frank shouted, “Now, I’m getting into this!”

Frank took off his clothes, quickly. He shucked off his polo shirt and then unbuttoned his khakis, leaving just his white briefs on, with his big fat dick sticking out over the top of his waistband.

“Not bad, huh?” Frank asked.

No, he wasn’t that bad, actually. He had a muscular chest with a pleasant dusting of fur. No abs to speak of, and his arms were kind of small, but his dick, as I had already noted, was absolutely huge.

Before I could answer him, Frank turned and walked out of his living room, into another room.

“Come on,” he shouted at me.

I stood up—no easy task with the collar and the wrist cuffs—and followed. Sure enough, the other room was his bedroom, dominated by a double bed with no bed frame.

“So, look, I haven’t fucked a guy before. You’re going to be the first. I don’t really expect you to enjoy it. But, I mean, that’s why Ted said I should get started with a slave, you know?” Frank said.

“Look, maybe we should try it where I—,” I began.

“Shut up, slave. In fact, let’s pretend I have you gagged, OK? I don’t need a tutor, I read about how to do this online. Get over here,” Frank said.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Tracker submits to Frank’s every curious desire in hopes for a reunion with Billy.

Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker – Part 3
by robcot
Series: Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker

Frank motioned me over to the foot of the bed. I was realizing that this may be the worst lay of my life. But I was in no position to refuse.

“OK, bend forward,” Frank said. He placed his hands on my back and butt to put me in the position he wanted, leaned over the edge of the bed with my feet still on the floor. The weight of my body pressed down on my dick and balls, and I grimaced in pain.

My face was planted smack into the mattress, making it tough to breathe. I guess Frank noticed; he loosened my collar and pulled it off, while keeping the cuffs on. I bent my neck so my face was off the mattress.

“Spread your legs,” Frank ordered. I did it.

“Wider,” he insisted, kicking my legs even further apart. My asshole felt really exposed.

For a moment I felt nothing, but then I felt a rope being tied around my right ankle. Then my left. Frank had me immobile.

I heard a drawer opening, a plastic bag being crinkled, and caught the distinctive whiff of water-based lube.

“Oh, I almost forgot the reaction shot camera,” Frank said.

Frank plopped a video camera down on the mattress, about two feet from my face, focused on me.

My heart was pounding; I was nervous, almost like it was my first time, too. I really wasn’t looking forward to this, but at least I’d get a crack at Abercrombie in exchange for doing this. And, everybody has to start somewhere.

Nothing was happening. I think Frank was jacking off, or trying to get up the courage, or whatever. I decided not to turn my head and look at him; there are some things I just don’t want to see.

“Tell me again, how many guys have fucked you?,” Frank asked. “I want the answer, slave.”

“Honestly, I don’t really keep count,” I said.

Suddenly I felt something cold and wet hit my asshole. It wasn’t his dick; he was lubing me up. Good. At least he knew to do that.

“Start counting. Who was the last?,” Frank pressed.

“I’d need to look in my calendar. Usually I’m the one who— OW!,” I shouted.

It happened. The dude jammed his dick into me, as far as he could, suddenly. The pain shot through me, reminding me why I preferred being a top so much. Instinctively, I tried to squirm, but my hands and feet were tied. My ass was all Frank’s.

“Yeah, slave, you should see your face. You will, when I show you this video. Take it in,” Frank said, as he pushed further in.

Frank started thrusting in and out. As he crushed my butt down, my erect, bound dick got smashed even harder into his mattress, which became a new source of pain.

“Shit, man, what website did you read?” I stuttered, in between gasps of pain.

“You know, one of those sites with lots of stories on it. It was really instructive,” Frank said.

Frank had no idea what he was doing, or he didn’t care. He was treating me like an oil well, mindlessly pushing his dick in and out. More than once his dick popped out entirely and he had to shove it back in. He was enthusiastic, at least.

“Look, if I can give you a tip—,” I began, trying to speak gently.

“You’re supposed to be gagged, remember? Honestly, slave, I — don’t — care — whatthefuck — you — think!,” Frank shouted, and then pulled out, gasping heavily.

I guessed that he shot his load. He was wearing a condom, thankfully.

With me still tied up, Frank started walking around the room, to cool off, I guess. He strolled into my line of view. I saw his stomach heaving as he breathed heavily. I thought it was funny that the guy wasn’t naked: he was still wearing his briefs, just with his dick out.

“Man, I liked that more than I thought I would,” Frank said. “I don’t get it. Usually I don’t get turned on by guys. Maybe it’s just you, you know?”

“Possibly. I’ve been told before that I’m ridiculously hot,” I said. I’m not sure what else he was going for.

“I want to try something else on you. Let’s flip you over,” Frank said.

Frank undid the straps that were holding my hands together, then untied my feet from the bed, too. Obediently, I flipped over to lie on my back. My dick, still completely erect, stood straight up, like a flagpole.

Frank tied me up like that, spread-eagle, with each of my arms and legs spread out to a different corner of the bed. He was remarkably proficient at tying me up; maybe he learned that online, too. I was unable to move by the time he was done.

Lying face up like that, I was able to look around the room better. I saw that, in addition to the camera that had been trained on my face during my fucking, there were two different cameras on tripods at different angles to capture all the action.

“Jesus, you look even hotter this way,” Frank said. “And the best part is, it’s all mine.”

Frank tickled me under my right armpit. I jerked away instinctively, but I was tied up so tight I could barely move. Frank laughed at my helplessness.

Then he started moving his finger slowly across my chest, avoiding my nipples but carefully feeling each of the bumps of my muscles. He went down toward my stomach, close to my dick without touching it.

“You guys like to do lots of nipple stuff, right? Let me try that,” Frank said.

He put one finger on each of my nipples and started stroking circularly. The stimulation was exactly what I didn’t need. It felt good, but with my balls squeezed by that strap it was painful at the same time as it was pleasurable. I started twisting my body to try to escape Frank, though I knew it was hopeless.

Frank let up, but got a nasty look on his face. He squirted some lube into his right hand, and then started stroking my dick, slowly, up and down.

I moaned with pleasure and agony simultaneously. It wasn’t that he was an expert at handjobs—he obviously had never touched any dick other than his own—but by that time almost any physical contact was enough to set me over the edge.

“I should unfasten this thing,” Frank said, tapping the strap around my balls, “and watch you shoot. I could milk you dry before your date with Abercrombie. What do you think about that?”

“Not cool,” I said, softly.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Frank said. “Stay there, I’m going to take a shower.”

“What?,” I shouted out. “Untie me!”

But Frank ignored me and walked down the room. I heard the water running.

I tried freeing myself but it was completely hopeless. So, I just lied there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what had just happened. This “twisted, confused straight guy,” as Ted had called him, had turned me into a sex toy, little better than a blow-up doll he could experiment with. It was all within parameters I had agreed to, but I still found it incredibly humiliating. I realized that Billy wasn’t the only guy I wanted to fuck tonight; I wanted Frank, too, more out of principle than anything else.

“Hey, so, there’s one more thing I want to try,” I heard Frank say. I turned my head to see he was wet, wearing a towel around his waist, and drying his hair with a second towel.

Frank bent down over me and took my cock into his mouth. I felt some tongue. Then, he gagged, and pulled out. I forced myself not to laugh. It was the quickest blowjob I had experienced since high school.

“I’m a guy who keeps his promises,” he said. “I’m going to go over to Ted’s and see if I can’t buy Billy for you.”

“Great,” I said, “how about you untie me, too?”

“Nah,” Frank said, “I have a feeling that doing that might hurt the deal. Trust me on this.”

And with that, Frank, now dressed in a fresh pair of khakis, a clean polo shirt, and boat shoes without socks, walked away. I heard the front door to his apartment open. Silence. Then, voices. Silence. Footsteps. Frank’s front door opened again.

Frank walked into the room, alone.

“Well, that cost me more than I thought it would,” he said, “but I think we’ve got a deal. Billy is going to be my slave until the morning, too.”

“Fantastic,” I said. “Untie me, and let me get ready for him.”

“Ah, you know, I’ve really started to get pissed off hearing all your orders. I thought we’d agreed you were supposed to be gagged. Let me remind you what that means,” Frank said.

“Frank, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—,” I began, but Frank cut me off by shoving the ball gag into my mouth again and strapping it behind my head.

There was a knock at Frank’s front door. He left the room to open the door. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I heard laughter. Then, footsteps.

Ted walked into the room first. He was fully dressed again. When he saw me spread-eagled, gagged, and naked except for that cock-and-ball torture device he had placed on me, he smiled, and looked happier than I had ever seen him.

Behind him was Billy. Fully dressed. Wearing a baggy sweatshirt and cargo pants, in fact. Then, I noticed something else: Billy wasn’t tied up or restrained in any way. What the fuck?

I felt my heart begin to beat faster as the three clothed guys stared down at me. They didn’t say a word. They all just smiled.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Tracker gets his reward and a little bit of revenge.

Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker – Part 4
by robcot
Series: Channel 4 Weatherman Loses At Strip Poker

“Really nice handiwork, Frank,” Billy said. “He’s really your first?”

“Glad you like it,” Frank said.

“Did you know he’s ticklish?” Ted asked them both.

“No shit?” Billy asked.

I tried to protest through my ball gag and began to squirm, straining each of my four ropes.

Billy tickled the base of my right foot. I jerked immediately, involuntarily. Then he tickled my rib, my underarm, my neck. I was helpless and exposed. The tickling was torture for me. All I could do was laugh into my gag.

“That’s enough, Billy, stop,” Frank said.

Billy stopped.

“We’re out of the hallway now, slave. Take those clothes off,” Frank said.

Billy slowly took off his sweatshirt and dropped it on the floor. He unbuttoned his cargo pants and unzipped them, letting them fall to the floor. He was back to wearing those same gray briefs. Billy’s eyes were locked on my eyes the whole time.

At last, I was going to see this guy’s cock; something I’d been wanting to see not just all evening, ever since I saw this Abercrombie model wearing boxers on a billboard ad.

“Hold on a sec, Billy,” Frank said, “let’s give you some privacy from the prying eyes of this other slave.”

Frank took out a blindfold, and put it on me. I couldn’t do a thing about it.

“OK, let’s get them ready,” Frank said.

I heard metal buckles and straps. Then I felt the ropes holding my wrists loosen. Hands forced me to sit up. I felt the familiar leather collar around my neck again. They put my wrists behind my back again and fastened them there. Then, they untied my legs.

It felt good to be standing again. But then I felt something getting attached to my collar. A leash, or a rope, or something. Whatever it was, they used it to lead me, to make me walk. I was being led through Frank’s apartment. I heard the patio door open. Uh-oh.

The cool night air hit my body again, and I felt once again the cold concrete under my bare feet.

“Slaves, before your big date, we thought we’d get you clean,” Frank said.

Before I realized what he meant, I felt the blast of cold water hit me. I heard Ted laugh uproariously. I was being hosed down, like an animal.

The cold water was almost painful. I jerked to avoid it whenever it hit me, but, being blindfolded, I had no idea when it was coming.

Then, it stopped. I felt someone go behind me, and then I felt the leather cuffs come off my wrists. Then, the collar came off, and they removed the ball gag.

“Go ahead and remove your blindfold,” Frank said.

I did. And there, standing before me, was a fully naked, bound, Billy. His cock, his glorious cock, hung low from his bound, naked body.

“Tracker,” Frank said, “I order you to fuck Billy. Right here, on the patio.”

At that point I would have fucked Billy on the White House lawn. But a concrete patio would have to do.

With my hands finally free, I loosened and removed my cock and ball ring. My erection held, of course. I wrapped a condom around it.

Billy was blindfolded and bound with the same collar-and-wrist cuff contraption they had used on me. Well, fuck that, I thought, enough of this bondage shit. I took that stuff off Billy.

Unlike Ted, Frank had patio furniture. He had one of those lounge chair things. I gently placed Billy on there, face down. I lubed myself, then Billy. And then, slowly and gently, I began to fuck him.

It was fantastic, the best lay I had had in months. I don’t know if it was the desire to show Frank how it should be done, or the delayed gratification, or how Billy’s style complimented mine. I could have came ten seconds into that, but I held it back, and then finally shot into my condom after ten minutes.

“That was hot,” Ted said.

“Sun’s up,” I said, “slave time it over. Clothes, please?”

“Sure, let’s head back into my place.”

We walked over to Ted’s patio and through his doors into his living room, where my clothes still were on the ground where I threw them. Billy’s were there, too, strewn about with abandon.

“So, this was great for me, Tracker,” Frank said.

“Frank, we’re not done, here,” I said, as I pulled on my underwear.

“You want a second date?” Frank asked.

“Not exactly,” I said, pulling up my pants. “Am I right that you bought me for ten dollars?”

“Well, five dollars, actually,” Frank said. “The first five was just to get a peek of you naked.”

“So, basically, you admit you hired a prostitute tonight,” I said, pulling on my shirt.

“Uh, what?” Frank asked.

“Me. You admit you hired me as a prostitute,” I said.

“Well, hold on—” Frank started.

“That makes Ted a pimp,” Billy observed.

“So it does,” I said. “You know, Billy, both these guys committed a crime tonight, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” Billy said.

“How about, you keep that quiet, and I won’t leak the sex tape I made?” Frank said.

I smiled and looked at Billy and Ted for reactions.

“Oh, you did not just say that,” Ted muttered, looking down.

“Frank,” I began, “I was kidding, but after that remark, now I’m not. That tape is not leverage over me, understand? In fact, I’d prefer if you leak it, provided the lighting is good, which it probably was not. The last time someone leaked a sex tape of me, it boosted my career like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, the thing you said about me committing a crime—” Frank said.

“No one has to hear about it,” I said, “if you do what I say.”

***

And so that Saturday night Frank met Billy, Ted, and me at the Tight End Sports Bar. Frank had clearly never been in a gay bar before, which was the exact reason I invited him there. With our encouragement, Frank talked to another guy, approached him as a human being, and got his phone number.

“I have the feeling that we’ve done something good for the community, here,” Ted said.

“Yeah. Let’s just hope that guy who gave him a phone number agrees,” I said.

THE END

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A straight cocky real estate developer and his homophobic nephew suffer through a humiliating tickle torture and orgasm denial ordeal when two horny latino landscapers decide take their revenge in a fresh story by […]

Prescott is stripped naked, bound, teased, tickled and fitted with a vibrating buttplug.

Latino Landscapers Get Even – Page 2
by Richard
Art by BDManBrazil

The duo laughed at Prescott’s unaccustomed […]

Both Alex and Prescott suffer further indignities until finally being allowed to cum!

Latino Landscapers Get Even – Page 3
by Richard
Art by BDManBrazil

The duo placed a ball gag and some duct tape around […]

Vote for your favorite stories from November & December. 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 vote to access the story.

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

Poll closes 01/21/2018.

————————————–

Choose up to 4 stories.

Readers Poll for Nov & Dec 2017

• Baseball Games - Chapters 1 & 2 by Luther5 / Art by Amalaric (18%, 13 Votes)
• Congressman Burns Gets His by Richard (18%, 13 Votes)
• Stepson’s Doom – Parts 9 & 10 by Kronmire4 / Art by Amalaric (16%, 12 Votes)
• 24 Hours - Chapters 7 & 8 by Amalaric (14%, 10 Votes)
• Flash Gordon Endures the Orgasmatron by Amalaric (7%, 5 Votes)
• Afghan Hell: Parts 13 & 14 by DonaldSteve (7%, 5 Votes)
• Sean and the Pirates - Chapters 1-3 by Mashatakeno (7%, 5 Votes)
• A Special Kind of Cock Fun by Tarquin (5%, 4 Votes)
• V.P.P.O - Parts 1-4 by BBTallman (4%, 3 Votes)
• A Very Painful Birthday Present by Alan Baker Charlie (4%, 3 Votes)
• Master Tony by Alan Baker Charlie (1%, 1 Votes)

Total Voters: 28

This Month's Voter Bonus Story: Poll Closed

 Loading ...

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

Voting Booth Rules
-You may vote for up to 4 different stories. (So you can choose 1 story or 2 or 3 or 4).
-Voting is anonymous. You may only vote once and cannot change your vote.
-Authors may vote for their own story if they choose.
-Authors with multiple stories can win multiple prizes.
-I will abstain from voting except in the case of a tie at which point I will make the tie-breaking vote(s).

How to Vote
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.

———————————————————-

Stepson's Doom – Part 9 To pay for his night alone with Colt, Martin Byron must make the ultimate sacrifice – turning over his son to the horny group of […]

Stepson's Doom – Part 10 Charlie Byron and Daniel Pritchard are stripped and punished by the horny group of fathers while hanging side by side. Stepson’s Doom – Part […]

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