GayBondageFiction

Ajax witnesses the severe punishment of another male slave who attempts to runaway.

Antebellum – Chapter 9: An Afternoon of Drama
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
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Mr Raikes detailed me to go with a boy and get on with a heavy labour task on the north trail. I carried a posthole borer and sledge hammer. I put them in a handcart where about 20 fence posts were already stacked. ‘Get your shirt off, nigger, this will be hard work.’ The boy said. ‘Yes boss.’ I replied to the 18 or 19 year old, who carried a cane and a whip. He sat on the load as I picked up the shaft and heaved the cart into motion. After we had been going for a while and the sweat was trickling down my chest the boy said, ‘Whoa, boy!’ I stopped and he stepped down. ‘Hard work, eh? I reckon you’ll work better with just a cloth on. Shuck your pants and tie this round your loins.’ He handed me a clean cloth. ‘Yes, sir, thank you boss.’ I said taking it. ‘And face me while you are changing.’ ‘Yes boss.’ I said. He sat on the cart and watched as I untied my canvas pants and let them and my pouch drop. I faced him and did not hurry to tie the cloth. I knew what he wanted to see and I made sure he had a good long look at it. When I was tied and covered he said, ‘Well, Ajax, the rumours I heard about that thing were sure true. Let’s get going.’

We arrived at the work site and I bored some holes, and then drove in the posts. It was hot sweaty work but my muscles felt good with the exercise after the morning with the house slaves. Suddenly, from the direction of the farm and barracoon, Mr Raikes and a couple of other overseers rode out with a group of ‘trustee niggers’ and a pack of bloodhounds. ‘What’s happening, Mr Raikes, sir?’ The boy said. ‘Runaway, Job the ex-house slave, run off from his first day at the quarry. Run off towards the swamp. Master says he wants us to get him before the alligators do. Said he didn’t breed niggers to feed the gators. Also, if he gets past the swamp there’s a danger he’ll get clear on the North Road and that might take days to get him and fetch the bastard back. Shouldn’t be too much of a problem, he wasn’t in great condition, not like the nigger you are working.’ They rode off with the baying hounds in the humid air. I remembered the crippled slave and sad to the boy, ‘Sir, will they cripple Job when they catch him like the one I saw working in the vegetable garden?’ ‘I doubt it for a first offence, nigger, now get on with your work, boy.’ He cracked his whip. ‘Yes sir.’ I worked hard and we finished the task in time to see the posse returning. Job’s wrists were bound and joined by a long rope to the pommel of one of the overseer’s saddles. He was yelling for mercy as he was dragged along. ‘Finished the task Alfie? Good boy, nigger need much leather on his back?’ ‘No, Mr Raikes, good hard-working boy.’ ‘Good, now get back to the yard, see the Master punish this nigger, let Ajax see what happens to runaways here should he think of doing anything so dumb.’ I packed up the tools on the cart and we set off back to the barracoon yard.

I was taken with plenty of other slaves out to watch the proceedings. Job was standing naked, despite being out of condition for a slave he was still a fine figure of a man with gleaming and well-developed muscles on his big frame. The Master had a look of thunder on his face as he stood on the stoop holding a bullwhip. A metal brazier with orange hot coals burning in it stood in the middle of the yard with an iron sticking out of it. ‘This nigger ran away today and deprived me of his labour.’ The Master stormed, ‘He is my property and to deprive me of his labour and his person constitutes theft. However, I shall be lenient with him as I am a merciful and good Master. I shall not cripple him, he is young and that would reduce his value and ability to work. He shall receive the maximum flogging legal – 39 lashes with the bullwhip, and he shall be branded so that you will all be reminded when you see him of what happens when a nigger takes it into his dumb head to run. Do you all understand that?’ There was a chorus of voices round the yard saying, ‘Yes Master.’ ‘Job, do you understand why you are being punished, nigger?’ ‘Yes Master, mercy, please Master.’ Tears spilt down the big slave’s face. ‘Amos, Nero, prepare him for branding first.’ ‘Yes Master,’ the big slaves said as the grabbed Job by the shoulders and dragged his struggling body to a post. They tied his limbs tightly and then his head so he could not move. At this point Dr Sullivan arrived. ‘Ahah! What’s going on Mr Richards?’ ‘Job ran today, he is to be branded and bullwhipped.’ ‘Excellent, you know how I consider a strict hand necessary. Do you want him castrated as well, I have my bag?’ Job cried out when the Master, with a cruel smile, said, ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Carry on, Mr Raikes.’ Boss Raikes took the glowing branding iron from the brazier and pressed it centrally on the nigger’s forehead. Even in his tight bonds Job managed to struggle as he screamed in agony. A brand mark of a letter ‘R’ smoked – ‘R’ for runaway. Mr Raikes replaced the iron in the fire and reheated it. To my surprised he withdrew it again and, this time, planted a brand on Job’s left cheek. The flesh sizzled again and the smell filled the yard. Boss Raikes concluded his work by branding Job on the right cheek. The slave had passed out but was revived when Nero threw a bucket of water over his face. Job was cut down and taken to the whipping frame. He was tied in the form of a letter ‘X’. Dr Sullivan took a listening tube and sounded the slave’s chest. The Master, Mr Raikes and Mr Herman, another overseer, were to administer 13 lashes each. The Master started and swung the lash hard across the slave’s upper back. He yelled in pain as his back was mercilessly flogged. Before he had finished his 13 lashes Job’s skin was broken. More water was thrown over him; Dr Sullivan signalled that they might continue. Mr Raikes administered his 13 and then Mr Herman. When they had finished Job hung limp from his wrists. Job was cut down and revived again with water. ‘Remember, nigger, if you try this again it will be the foot-breaker, more branding and double lashes for you. Take him away!’ A couple of wenches took him to have his wounds washed and disinfected with pimento. Nero said, ‘You will know when they do that to him, you’ll hear his screams half way to New Orleans.’

‘Let that be a lesson to you niggers if you get any ideas that life might be better elsewhere,’ the Master said, ‘and because of Job’s waywardness and stupidity you will receive only half rations tonight and tomorrow. You can thank that dumb slave for that.’ There was a low groan from the assembled slaves. ‘Now get back to what you were doing!’ We all shuffled off in a subdued and chastened frame of mind. I went to get cleaned and changed for service of dinner.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Jar has regrets about attempting to escape the chain gang when he is recaptured and punished. Storiette by CenturionF with art by Amalaric.

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Fry suffers through another torture class – this time a futuristic plastic that molds to his hairy body that leaves his completely vulnerable to Grey’s torments.

Afghan Hell: Part 10 – Torture Class: Plastic Jacket (A Little Bit Of Science Fiction)
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: Afghan Hell

Fry was woken next day by the chef who accompanied him to the gym and watched as he exercised. After water to drink and a shower the guards took him back to the lecture room. A low slanting table, whose surface was visible to the students watching, dominated the platform. Adjustable manacles were set in each corner and along its sides. The table had a layer of what resembled cling film or saran wrap covering it and hanging down the sides to the floor. Grey nodded to his men and Fry was stripped of his shirt. Determined not to aid them at all, he had to be lifted on to the table. His ankles were fitted wide apart into the corner manacles and his wrists into those at each side of him so that his arms almost touched his sides. The guards fitted two sturdy pegs between his arms and sides right up into his armpits so that he could not slide down along its sloping surface. The cling film that he lay on was he discovered, a thin layer of plastic perforated with millions of minute holes. Despite its flimsiness, it felt rough and itchy under his bare back. Grey leant over him adjusting the restraints so that his arms and legs went rigid, as the chains were pulled tight with the pegs pushing up against his closed armpits. Grey turned to the students. “Today we will enjoy something a bit different. One of the you students gave me this plastic sheeting that Fry is laying on. He told me it has amazing properties and has been used in various countries as an aid to getting victims to talk. I thought I would try it today.”

He looked down on Fry, and at that moment, the sun streamed into the room illuminating his big hair-matted chest, which heaved up and down as he tried to control his breathing. The stubble on his jaw had grown at least an inch since he had arrived in the camp so that a thick neat yellow beard now grew from ear to ear, over his upper lip and down his neck. The darker yellowish hair of his beard changed to the straight lighter coloured hair that came up from his chest to merge just above his adams apple. Grey was still fascinated to see that the whole front of Fry’s throat and neck was matted with fur that also spread under his ears and almost joined up with the blonde hair on the back of his neck. His inner shoulders were covered with very fine blonde hairs that merged with the course straight hair on his collarbone, and went on to cover his chest in a mat of dense tough spikes through which his pale pink nipples peered, their delicateness contrasting strongly with their rough hirsute surroundings. His flat abdomen was layered with the same thick but finer hair that grew in patterns to form a line down the centre of his torso. The line twisted itself round the indentation of his navel, only to thicken and coarsen as it flowed lower into long tendrils that bushed over the waistband of his briefs. The skin of his powerful thighs was almost obliterated by the thick coarse blonde hair that covered them. From his groin the dirty yellow hair spread down the insides of his upper legs. Thick blonde hair grew over his knees and down his legs to his large wide feet. Small tendrils on his toes sparkled in the sun.

Grey went to the table and came back to stand at the bottom of the table holding a long flexible cane and a small amount of the plastic film. He wrapped some of the plastic tightly around Fry’s left foot stretching it so that it moulded to the shape of him. He then did the same to the other foot. One of the students called out, “What is that for?”

Grey replied, “I am told it has usual properties. It is inflexible when wet and can conduct heat and electricity. It also accentuates pain increasing it up to twenty fold.”

He finished wrapping Fry’s foot. “Despite all this it seems it minimises scarring hiding any evidence of abuse.” He brought a spray bottle over to the table and sprayed liquid on both of Fry’s feet soaking the plastic film. Fry looking down along the length of his bared torso saw the plastic film on his foot shrink and tighten. At the same time his foot went rigid and he could not move his toes at all. Within seconds his feet were set like rock and felt as if they were in a vice. The arches of both his feet started to spasm and cramp and he gritted his teeth against the pain. His feet looked as though they were encased in a very thin film of hard plastic. Added to his discomfort was a fierce pain and itching all over his feet. Through gritted teeth he said to Grey. “Nice friends you have Grey to lend you their toys.”

Grey laughed and said “Let’s try it out with a little added punishment.” Lifting the thin cane he held he brought it down quite lightly on the sole of Fry’s left foot. Fry cried out as his body arched on the table’s surface. Before he had time to lower his body back, Grey tapped the other foot and again Fry cried out, arching upwards, his head right back as his chest jutted forward as far as the bonds would allow. The third blow on the same foot made Fry’s body jerk uncontrollably and he managed to keep silent gritting his teeth against this new agony. Grey hit his soles again and again. Each blow was light, not justifying Fry’s violent reaction. By the twenty-second blow he was bellowing continuously, with his body arching and jerking.

After Grey had finished Fry was whimpering and sobbing, the huge cries he had made still ringing in Grey’s ears. Grey was breathless and looked excited.. “Well that worked well,” he said. He flicked Fry’s toe with his fingers and Fry’s body spas med, his face screwed up and he hissed through clenched teeth as if a red-hot knife had been applied to him.
Grey took another spray and used it on his feet and the plastic fell away in soggy lumps. Grey stayed chatty during this whole time as if he was with a friend. He noticed Fry’s reluctance to talk and said “Well, let’s get on with it then.” He folded both sides of the plastic sheet over Fry’s torso, tucking it between his arms and sides, moulding it over his stomach and chest.

Fry tried a little humour gasping, “ You really don’t want to do this Grey. Wouldn’t you like a chicken for dinner instead?”
The students laughed along with Grey and Grey patted his cheek “No my wee laddie.” He smiled down at him. “You know man. I like you. I like you very much.” he paused. “But you will still suffer” he turned to his students saying, “It is a shame this wee laddie got in the way. Another time we could probably have been friends. I have discovered we have lot in common.”

Fry interrupted “I don’t think so ‘mate’.” Putting emphasis on the last word. The film that covered him was uncomfortable and painful dragging on his skin as he breathed. When Grey had finished wrapping him he was enclosed from just below his navel right up over his chest and arms to the hollow of his throat. Grey brought over the bottle and sprayed him liberally with it. Fry was instantly aware of the film shrinking around him constricting his breathing. Within seconds he was finding it hard to breath. The film gave no slack at all. His breathe came in small short gasps.

Grey was amazed at the spectacle. The film had moulded itself all over Fry’s upper body looking like a second skin or a covering of glass. It moulded itself to his bulging muscles. The body hair underneath was tight and flat against his skin. Several small blonde hairs had escaped through the minute holes especially round his nipples where the smaller hairs there were like hard pointed spikes. The whitish blonde hair under the film had darkened considerably contrasting with these stray blonde hairs. The hair that bushed away from his navel and spilled over from his neck masked the edges of the film. Grey took another stick from the side table that looked like a fly swat.

Standing over a gasping Fry he brought the swat down in a sharp short tap on his chest. Fry’s legs jumped his face went purple and he let out a shrill cry which rose to a crescendo as the pain increased for several seconds, before gradually subsiding. Grey was already repeating the blow a little lower down. Fry had time for just one panicked indrawn breathe before he was bellowing, the roar of pain echoing round the room startling several of the students. Grey then swiped him across the upper arms then moved down on to his stomach. As Fry’s legs jerked against his bonds, his face darkened and his mouth gaped wide open, his screams of agony filling the room. His cries could be heard in the cookhouse where the chef with a sad look on his face paused and listened.

Fry concentrated hard. Striving to find that part of him that could block off a fraction of the pain, and Grey noticed a slight alteration in his features. He still clenched his teeth in agony and still screwed up his eyes, while his face distorted as he cried out and yelled. But something had happened and scanning Fry’s body he noticed a slight swelling in his groin. Fry clung on hard to this little feeling of pleasure, taking comfort in it, but not able to expand it beyond what it was. He took the assault on his chest and stomach for thirty minutes, and Grey decided to stop to give him some respite. He laid down the swat and sat at a low chair next to fry, stroking his forehead for some time until his cries ceased. Fry gasped, “I can’t breath. Let me out of this thing.”

Grey soothed him. “Not yet. I need to test it further. Have a rest.” Grey sat back and lit a cigarette telling the students to light up as well if they wished. Grey asked him if he still hurt and Fry replied that the pain of the swat had almost gone. “But my tits Grey” gasped Fry. “They hurt so bad. When I breathe in the pain is excruciating. Give them some freedom. Please.”

Grey looked at Fry’s nipples. They were small and very pale peering out from the surrounding flattened hair. Grey had not really concentrated on Fry’s nipples before, and he was surprised to see they were standing erect in two sharp points. The film had moulded itself over and around them so tightly that when Fry ‘s chest moved as he attempted to suck in air, the harsh roughness of the film dragged on them.. So tightly was the film moulded to his body Grey could even see the ring of hair follicles that surrounded them standing out in high relief. The sharp spikes of the tendrils had pushed their way through the minute holes. He pulled on one of the hard blonde hairs that protruded and Fry went rigid. His face paled and he groaned. ”Yes. Well. I think we can experiment further laddie.”

And he made sure that Fry could see his cigarette closing on one of his right nipple. As the burning tip touched the film covered flesh Fry yelled and bucked his hips about. Grey was fascinated that the film did not melt or burn. Fry’s frame subsided but he continued to gasp and whimper. Through pain glazed eyes he watched Grey attach cables to the top and bottom of the film covering him. One near his neck the other at his waist. The cables were threaded to a generator and Grey slowly moved the switch. A brilliant blue light passed over Fry’s chest and his legs and shoulders vibrated jerking about uncontrollably. His torso staying still and unmoving, his roar of pain and anguish reverberated through the roof of the hut stopping everybody in the camp from working for a moment.
Grey switched the generator off and Fry continued feeling the shock for several seconds, until he sank back almost unconscious, twitching and jerking involuntarily. A thick sheen of sweat covered his face and shoulders and pooled over the film on to the floor. Grey stood over him “I think that was a satisfactory test don’t you me wee man?“

Fry whispered two words “Fucking bastard.” His torso was sprayed to melt down the plastic and the chef was summoned to help one of the guards carry him back to his cell. The chef stood his quivering frame in the shower and directed the spray all over him to rid him of the gunk that covered him He massaged his shoulders bringing some relief to the strained muscles, and applied salve to his tender skin where the plastic jacket had caused so much agony.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Here’s another hot storiette from centurionF with art by Random Bara Dude (commissioned by centurionF)!

Property of Zeus
by centurionF
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