GayBondageFiction

Akbar Omar uses a sizzling combination of pleasure and pain to interrogate a captured military officer. Electro, ass play and a hot cum control scene in another skillful story by Matty Schmatty!

The […]

The Interrogation of Lieutenant Nick Tyler – Page 1
by Matty Schmatty

At first, the clamps crunching down around Nick’s hard nipples sent a pain like none other through his body as the dull metallic teeth d […]

The conclusion to Wolfpek’s amazing undersea erotic adventure, Deep Blue.

Deep Blue- Conclusion
by Wolfpek
Art by Amalaric
Series: Deep Blue

8: OctoQubie’s Garden

For the first time, possibly ever […]

New author Wolfpek takes us on an amazing undersea erotic adventure in his series Deep Blue. Chapters 5-7

Deep Blue – Chapters 5-7
by Wolfpek
Art by Amalaric
Series: Deep Blue

5: Banquet

Commander […]

Not a bondage story but a hot description of a male nurse administering a full body shave on a reluctant patient.

Shaving Down an Unruly Patient
by Kris

People often ask me what the worst part about being a […]

A new group of contestants discover ingenious devices of torture in another develishly fun comic strip from Derat. Page 1

A new group of contestants discover ingenious devices of torture in another develishly fun comic strip from Derat. Page 2

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A new group of contestants discover ingenious devices of torture in another develishly fun comic strip from Derat. Page 3

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A new group of contestants discover ingenious devices of torture in another develishly fun comic strip from Derat. Page 4

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

New author Wolfpek takes us on an amazing undersea erotic adventure in his series Deep Blue. Chapters 1 & 2.

Deep Blue – Chapters 1 & 2
by Wolfpek
Art by Amalaric
Series: Deep Blue

1. Deep Blue

It is not silent in the depths. The hollow crackling sound of the creatures which feed on the coral, The movement of water, and of course the steady rhythym of one’s own focused breath echoing into one’s regulator. It is not silent but it is serene, and beautiful Navy Seal Lieutenant Jason Flint wished he had time to appreciate the rainbow of coral that surrounded him, as he skimed passed a billowing lionfish floating near a giant clam, but this was not a vacation in the Seychelles, he was on a mission. Intelligence had information that arch terroist “Qube” had built an undersea laborotory near this site and was planning to denoate explosives along the tectonic plates. His assignment was to locate signs of this structure and report back to the submarine. More air-brushed than clothing the spandex of Flint’s suit recorded every ripple, and contour of the play of muscles which worked to push him smoothly through the water. Flint had not developed his body to lethal perfection out of vanity, rather the square jawed twenty seven year old warrior had devoted every hour of his life to toning body and mind to an absolute killing machine and protector of his nation. He had suceeded. For the sake of aerodynamic effciency he wore only a jock strap under his second skin of spandex, leaving each sculpted contour highlighted without interruption, and he moved, graceful, slick and seemingly uncovered as the acid green eel which darted under a brain coral in the corner of his eye. Something else caught his eye, a sharp bright something which didn’t belong. Shark like, he changed direction and darted toward it moving smoothly through bits of loose floating sea vegetation, translucent and very visible this cloud of vegetaion seemed to grow thicker collecting onto his body suit growing so dense it inhibited his movements. He counters to move back around, and try another approach, and finds he is unable to extracte himself. His steely blue eyes widen as this mysterious sea grass grows weblike, the more he struggles against it he finds the more entrapped he becomes.. A quick check at his pressure gauge reveals a concerning depletion of oxygen. A fighting machine like Flint does not panic, but he does move slowlt to test the strength of this new problem. His massive shoulders, and thin hips undulate slowly as he searches for potential weakness in his mossy opponent .

So fully absorbed with this unique equation, he does not sense a new presence swimming near him, not until he feels a sharp pinprick pinch into his neck. He turns quickly to react but sees only scales, scales and then blackness Scales which cover long thin arms which wrap around the limp form of the unconcious navy seal, carrying away the hunky prey, scaly webbed fingers whihc open a pressure lock hidden ingeneously within the coral. A scaly shoulder over which is thrown the perfect round ass outlined by sleek wet spandex, and carried up a steel ladder, wading with it’s prize into a fetid chamber filled ankle deep with water. A scaly figure which drops the dead weight of the sleeping stud face down into the pooled water covering the limestone floor. the dim light of the chamber reflecting off of the nylon covered muclses of the broad back and ripe ass. A sharp well place kick knocks the slumbering hunk face up. Liver spotted human hands tear away the mask and hood revealing the all-American buzz cut beauty, these same hands cup the granite jaw. “Ahhh, the great Lieutenat Flint. I had hoped you’d join us”

2. The Rapture of the Deep

The ache in his arms invaded his slumbering conciousness in the same way an alarm clock invades a dream, Flint’s eyes were open before his brain was able to interput the bizarre images they sent. Dim, and dappled a merucial light filtered in through the thick glass, upon the dripping walls of hhis cavern prison.A damp fetid stench filled his nostrils, smelling for all the world like cum. His eyes focused first on Qube slouching languidly on some sort of granite throne with glowing control panels on it’s monumental arms. His dainty, slippered feet resting on an odd steel ottoman with chains at four corners.The dim light shimmered of of his shaved head. His vaginal goatee twisted into a fey smirk. Other images came into view, most importantly his oxygen tank, regulator, mask and weight belt, implements of freedom teaslingly peeked from behind the stone age barcalounger. “My what a fine catch I have pulled from the ocean today” He rose languidly wafting towards his suspended prize, his loose white lounging suit flowing behind him. Sculpted limbs pulled into an mouthwatering X by the same sticky ooze which had brought him here. “What a fine muscled, virile catch in my little net” A long delicate fingertpis came to tenative rest on the massive chest, like a butterfly ready to flit away. “The question is what was such a prime fish doing swimming so close to my …hook?” The butterlfy hand flew up to wipe the hawking ball of spit that hand landed squarely in it’s owner’s eye, and just as swiftly slapped the square jaw of his defiant prisoner. “And what to do with such a prime catch?” Less, gently both hands now explored the contours of the torso beneath the slick wetsuit. “Tell me Flint, what do you seek here? I expect you are not alone.” He recieved only a recitation of name rank and serial number. The ovlivious hands continued to explore down the tapering stomach to cup the impressive cock protected only by two layers of mylon and cotton, interupting the litany.

“Get your hands off me you fucking faggot!!!” The grip of the thin hand became surpisingly strong around the outline of his cock

“An extremely accurate assesment of the obvious Lt. Flint. I am indeed a faggot, and I plan to be fucking very soon” Wide awake now, Flint began to curse and struggle frantically against his organic bonds “I’ll kill you first” Qube smiled. “The living material which currently holds your delicious wrists and ankles so securly in my power is actually a rare sort of algae. I have been cross breeding it with the jelly fish in this area. Like you, it is extremely strong, yet pliant, and strikingly beautiful. So strong, not even your Heculean “guns” cannot break them. Unlike you, I am able to control it telepathically, comme ca” Flint’s meaty arms were yanked painfully up and down along the steel apparatus like a hunky puppet. He yelped in response. The oozing bonds yanked him back into the x shape and stopped. “Ahh how your voice must sound in agony. Manly, gruff and yet vulnerable, and boyishly tender. How you must sound during sex…or torture. Exquiste.” Steel blue eyes stared back silently contemptous. “It is time for you to meet more of the locals” He clapped his hands. Flint’s face fell into a maskof disbelief as five bizarre figures entered the room, as if they had stepped of of the screen of a very bad nineteen fifties horror film. Humanoid in that they stood upright, and had two arms, and two legs. Standing at about five feet, they were covered in slime covered grey scales. Long sinewy limbs, ended in wide, webbed,, “hands and feet”. each carried an impressive spear. Unlike fish their round, yellow eyes were set forward, predatory, not to they sides of rather elegant elongated heads Obviously amphibian, gills sprouted from below each pointed ear in rows to thier shoulders. A long spiked fin ran from the top of the skull forming a reptlian tale behind the knee. The fin was repeated along the underside of their terrifyingly large cocks, whixh were rigidly erect and oozing squid black cum. “Meet my frogmen, they brought you to me.It took me a very long time to gain thier allegience, but it seems we have something in common, an appreciation for the idealized male form. Of course, they do not share my restraint. Thier all consuming lust has resulted in the actual consumption of several unfortunate young divers. You understand the laws of the ocean, hunt and consume. I have taught them to slow down and enoy all of the charms of thier prey for a long time before thier hungry lusts destroy what I consider to be works of art. In appreciation for improvingthe quality of thier lives,they now serve me” Qube was pulling on black gloves They like you, can you see how they are ‘pointing’ toward you? My presence, and continued well being are all that stands between you and their primal needs. Shall I give them a show?” He slowly unzipped the front of the stunned stud’s wetsuit. His breathing beacme shallow as he parted the clinging nylon skin to reveal the hard golden flesh it could no longer protect. Hairless armoured pecs capped by small pink nipples framed by impossibly broad shoulders. Shuddering he rested his head lovingly on the naked rock of his victim’s chest, just the way Lisa used to do gazing into the bonfire on the beach back home in far away Nag’s Head. He raised one gloved hand. “Do you like these gloves my love? They are sharkskin, actual sharkskin, very fancy, they can also adminsiter electric shock.” The hand descended upon the opposite chest. The rough substance immediatly cut tiny little paper cuts into the flawless bare skin. Flint winced. He clenched around the rounded muscle and began to rub in pressing circles over the tender nipple, while his tounge gently flicked the other hardening numb. Intermittent currents of electricity rolled through his body. Flint unsuccessfully tried not to moan. He tried to murmer his name, rank and serial number between grunts of pain. The hand moved further over the exposed ribs. toward the flat quivering stomach. Tiny red welts formed in it’s wake. Qube spoke into the nipple. “What I have admired about your body for so long is that there is nothing uneccesary about it.

No excess fat, spare. massive muscles over rippling adbominals. I can count every rib, light fingers played along the sensitive ribs, Flint shivered in reaction. You have spent your life training it into the perfect fighting machine, now I shall continue your training, into my prefect pleasure machine. Oh the things I will do to you”. Flint, to maintain sanity simply repeated name, rank, serial number..The voltage increased in intensity his body jumped within its gooey shackles. “Tell me about your sub. It is my understanding that your fellow crewmen are as fine specimens as yourself. I have dispatched some of my frogmen to greet them. if you cooperate I will spare them.” Flint knew this was a lie. “How much is known of my plan and whereabouts?” The zipper descended further, and Qube gasped. Strange howling sounds came from the frogmen whose fins flapped up and down excitedly “Only a jockstrap? Breathtaking. Did you dress to please me? Thank you my love.”

It was too big for the strap to fully contain. Flint’s dick under the cotton was fat, unusually long, and to his shame, semi- erect. The head barely peeping from its cloth cage, the curve of fat balls overflowed from the sides. Blonde fur dusted the surrounding area The reainder of the wet suit was quickly zipped away.. The heroic form of the navy seal now fully exposed to the tongue and cutting gloves of his captor heading inexorably toward the bulging jock. The gloves dived first, in front and behind, one burrowing into the golden forest of Flint’s pubic hait, the other clawed at the hard muscle of his high round right glute, leaving the tongue to count the abdominals, and taste the first line of hair beginning at the naval. Qube steppd back to admire his catch., he reomved one glove. ” I have another treat for you” He stepped back to the nearest frogman, and collected a droplet of sperm dripping from it’s bobing cock. He held it up for Flint to see, and the touched it lightly to his ravaged nipple. Flint through his head back and screamed, and a burning itch shot into the nub. Qube had longed for this sound. “Amazing stuff, isn’t it? Persnally, I find it delcious” Fliny siged as it was licked away. The gloved hand pulled the jock down, just enough to reveal the vulnerable slit.

“NO!”

“Tell me how many are on the sub” “Lt. Jason Flint. US Navy…. Ahhhhhhrrrrggghhh! ahh unnhh” The head dropped back swooning from the burn into his manhood. “Poor boy, your suffering has only begun.” He knelt reverntley before his suspended obect of worship, grasping the hard round buttocks in both hands, and pulled the rising cock toward him to kiss away the stinging black ooze. His saliva saturated the fabric of the cup, as he licked and then took the still covered cock into his mouth. A brave heatseeking finger worked it’s way to the undefended crack between the twin dimpled globes, and found himself unable to breathe. Flint’s steel thighs were wrapped viselike around his neck, cutting off his air.

“I can snap your little neck like a twig faggot! Tell your little fishies to stand down, and let me free… NOW!!!” With a waive of his hand, the frogman dropped their weapons and stepped backwards. Catlike reflexes allowed Flint to take control as soon as the seagrass shackles released him. With swift economic movements, Flint had snatched the knife from his wetsuit, and up to Qube’s neck in a matter of seconds.

“Now Mis Piggy, we’re gonna walk re-al slow over to my tank, and your little Kermits aren’t gonna make any sudden moves” He angled his would be rapist across the room, and as he reached for his tank, he was ready when the frogmen, jumped. Only two remained alive as he slipped on his tank, weightbelt, and mask. He would have to leave the wetsuit, and fins. He backed out over the bloody amphibain bodies. “Qube, you’re real lucky my goverment wants you alive. Faggots. It’s been real, but I’ll just be saying goodbye for now. We’ll be back to pick you up soon” and he was gone Those creepy little frog things were still out there, he had to be fast. Damn, one strap of his tank had been severed in the struggle, he would have to carry it. He checked his gauge. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, he had plenty to get back to the sub. It was strange to be this deep in ust a tank, and jockstrap, but goddam it was good to be free. The luminesent coral glowed in the dappled light, the colours were almost psychedleic.It really was beautiful down here. He saw a ray float by, angelic. Funny he was moving, but the scenery had not changed, or was he moving?He looked around and his vision seemed to track behind the movements of his head. His breathe into is regualtor was ringing in his ear, faint buzzing music. His mind reeled toward the ship. He had to save his men, but it felt so good here. The healing sea salt stung his wounds. Why was he still here? The tank. It was more full than he remembered. Qube had refilled it. with what?! Some sort of euphoric gas. Ticklish buzzing waves rolled through is center. Lights blinked in the corner of his eyes. He kicked forward with all of his strength. No, no he was kicking he was floating descending gently toward the sea floor. Was this what they called the rapture of the deep? Qube had won, but not really. At least he was spared the fate worse than death that the sick faggot had planned for him.He would die breathing Qube’s drugged air He felt his body come to rest gently along the sea bad, his hips met rock raising is naked ass slightly, wouldn’t Qube have liked that?. The tank fell next to him. His body was steched long, arms above his head. His thick rounded delts, stretched to impressivly wide shoulders, tapering in a complicated array of muscles to a surprisingly ting waist forming the perfect V-shaped back, flared out again into the pert full melon shaped ass, and long, slightly over-mucled legs, all stretched out in the sand and rocks of Davey Jone’s locker. Through heavy lids he saw the little nutbranks and fish which feed upon the nearby coral. He was part of the sea life now. The littel creatures surrpounded him, nibbling along his naked flesh. Nibbling into his underarms and along the rib cage, some small enough to wiggle under nibbling at his tits, nibbling at his cock sticking out from the cup, rock hard, thanks to their attention and Qube’s gas, exposed between his legs pointing to his feet. Nibbling at his balls, along the instep of his feet. Nibbling at the hairs which surrounded the hole buried between the mounds of his dimpled ass. He moaned piteouslsy into his mouthpiece.

He hadn’t gotten far, he could see now that he lay just below Qube’s window. He could see Qube watching drink in hand. He gave him a dainty wave. He understood the plan. Mind reeling in terror, he could only lie still, as he felt the presence behind him. The webbed hands, tear away his jockstrap, gasping his lats for leverage, and the fate he thought he had avoided, that immense finned cock against his virgin hole. The huge scaly rod poking into the crack seperating flawless creamy mounds, of the helpless navy seal The littel fish nibbled away With one brutal thrust, the monster tore past the rings of his tight sphincter Even the euphoric drug could not ease the pain of that invasion. Flint screamed, tensed and fell limp as the frogman pistoned into him, slamming his hips into the rock pedestal. the webbed hands cupped his pecs,and another presence pulled his legs apart and squirmed underneath to take the cock into it’s amphibious mouth. A warmth grew in the pit of his stomach and spread to his loins, and inside his thighs. A warmth that became a burining need, as tangible as a cushion forcing his hips up to meet the pounding thrust tearing into his prostate, hurting the walls of his ruined chute. A red hot burn that poured fthrough his cock into the greedy sucking mouth, in violent exhausting spurts. The frog ceature tensed, and he could feel the fiery fluid filling his bowels. The pain and the drug finally overcame the Lt. Jason Flint and he lay, deorated nay seal, naked and raped on the sea floor Once more scaly arms gathered the limp hunk and pulled his insensate form towards the villain’s lair. His suffering, as Qube had promised, had only just begun.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

New author Wolfpek takes us on an amazing undersea erotic adventure in his series Deep Blue. Chapters 3 & 4.

Deep Blue- Chapters 3 & 4
by Wolfpek
Art by Amalaric
Series: Deep Blue

3. Full Fathoms Five

The ice in Qube’s glass was tinkled with the agitation of his shaking hand. The other hand squeezed the last drooling droplets out of his swollen dick. It had been more than worth the sacrifice of a few henchman to witness this scene. Giant screens lining the cave walls were already replaying the brutal degradation, but nothing would recapture the aching ecstacy of witnessing the first rape of his steely tough navy SEAL firsthand. That carefully planned, image was seared into his mind for eternity. The toughguy stud, vulnerable and nude, stretched out undulating on the sea floor, like a carp on a hook eventually relaxing into stillness, his only link to life the aphrodisiac gas pumping from his oxygen tank into his heaving lungs, His steely muscles glowed blue white in the otherworldly light of azure depths. Even whiter, his firm virgin buttocks raised slightly over the rock where his slim hips had come to gentle rest, an gift from the Poseidon, framed only by the small straps of that tantalizing cup.That image alone, could have satisfied him. The straps gave to the slightest tug of webbed fingers, and the graceful line of naked rib, hip and lean taut leg lay completely exposed to the beast which hovered above to claim the treasure buried between the submerged white granite globes. The unbearable look of concentrated pain on that beautiful, masculine face, and the sight of the thin waist widening into spherical perfection, where huge finned rod speared into that tender crack sent Qube over the edge spewing cum onto the thick glass, while the unsated monsters danced the impaled hunk around, one thrusting vengefully from behind,as the other drained manly seed into his greedy maw.

Qube prayed the would not devour him after the assault, as he had seen them do to many unfortunate divers before. He had trained them very well, but he had to admit. Flint looked like a tasty feast even to him. Still, the understanding that the hunky lieutenant slumbered in the midst of such mortal danger was enough to stiffen his piggish cock anew. He breathed a sigh of relief as they carried his defeated form back to the base uneaten.

He turned breathless when he heard the airlock, and saw his captured prize, ass first, ascending the ladder. Once again hanging limp, peaceful, over the frogman’s shoulder. This time however the glorious raped buttocks were completely naked, and his for the taking. The white melons shiny with sea water which soaking the hairs on the striated muscles of his swaying legs and dropping with each froggy step as the beast carried the burden to it’s new owner, and handed him the torn jock strap.

He inhaled the wet cotton deeply and gazed upon the ruined hole oozing blood and frogman semen. A reverent whisper, barely audible choked from his parched throat “So beautiful… so .. dirty” The cotton trophy dropped to the floor, and he one wraith-like claw dug into the unyielding flesh of granite buttock, followed quickly by it’s twin, caressing the taut round muscles manipulating the drenched globes apart for better access to the ruined chute. “We must clean you” He dived face first into the heavenly vale, grizzled jaw wedged into the bruised perineum, sunken cheeks nestling deeply into the inner cleft, agile tongue plummeting full fathom past the defeated sphincter, rat tat tatting on the drum of the sensitized prostate. Deep within his nightmare the unconscious hunk, head and arms swaying upside down toward the floor, uttered the faintest of moans pulling the moist invader sounding further and further into new territory. His patient henchmen waited an eon while his master tasted all the dark delights of the depths of the captured SEAL.

Finally pulling back, he retrieved the precious jock strap, wiped his face with the juice of it’s former owner, and sighed. “Bind him for deep cleaning”

It was the sound of the whistling whip, more than the sharp bolt of pain that jolted Flint awake. As Qube had predicted the sublime music of his screams raged through his heart like a celestial choir. The suspended stud, this time in an upside down X, did not have time to draw another breath for the next manly howl, before the lash fell again, and again. In between the bursts of pain he became aware of metal clamps biting into his bleeding nipples, balls, and inserted into the tip of his cock attached to wires running to the throne. Unable to count the strikes, he could barely focus as they slowed. He saw Qube watching from his throne, feet up on his strange ottoman. Two Frogmen behind, delivering blows , and a third pointing a hose at him.

Qube began to clap. He was wearing Flint’s ripped jock strap as a necklace.

“Welcome back to our little party Lieutenant. I must say you put on a delightful show for us. Now we must clean you off after your strenuous efforts”

“You BASTARD… AHHHGG!!” The whip fell again, followed by an explosive jet from the hose shooting salt water into his wounds. Flint, struggling to maintain consciousness, barely had the ability to scream, let alone curse. “No, still not quite sufficient, don’t you agree?” Qube touched the control panel in his armrest, and lighting crackled from the clamps sizzling through the rain of salt water cascading over sleek catlike muscles, mingling with the blood pouring from his wounds to form a pink cocktail enveloping the hanging head. The stalwart lieutenant performed a frenzied jig, to the beat of the electricity surging into his burning cock, balls and nipples.

“Very cleansing no? But we have not scoured every nook and cranny, have we? And you have been a very, very dirty boy”

Flint made a valiant effort to struggle as a second hose was forced into his abused asshole. “We need you very clean for our next little drama, this is my own concoction; sea water and something wonderfully special. It will help you relax, and I so enjoy watching to pass in, and out of consciousness”

Flint could smell his own flesh burning as the electricity and and spray shook through him again, but now he felt the powerful rush of water flood into his very centre, filling him until he must burst. He began, once more to feel a delightful sense of floating, as if he were again swimming, floating free, the receding bolts left a pleasant tingling in is balls, nipples and rising cock, He felt his stomach release, and was flying in a sea of lust as he was, gently released from his bonds, bathed clean. He heard Qube’s singsong voice, a lullaby, loving and far away as hands, hundreds of healing, hungry hands caressed every inch of his nude, muscular form wafted him through the air, spinning him over and draping him face down over something cool. His ass riding high, the focus of so much desire, bonds snapped snugly around his wrists and ankles, but he continued to fly above where even the air seemed to want him. His iron dick pulsed against the metal on which it rested.

Qube turned when he heard the sound of the captured nuclear sub dock in his compound. He settled back in his throne, feet high up on his newly completed footstool, and nodded to his henchmen. “Bring the new ones to me” He looked up to his heels, resting heavily into the firm flesh of Flint’s upraised glutes and smiled. “There is so much more fun to be had”.

4. The Battle

Commander Mitch Walkers’ square jaw clenched with concern. “goddammit Jae” he thought “Where the fuck are you?” He ran an oversized hand through buzz cut blonde hair, and slammed it down impotently on the control panel. Walker’s hands and feet were slightly outsized, and powerful like a labrador puppy. In spite of his 29 years, this was his only less than mature feature. A natural leader from birth, Walker exuded a calm authoritarian presence earned only by a few older men. It was this quality that won him command of a nuclear submarine, younger than any who held this rank.

His men trusted his instincts, and his genuine concern for their well being. He was considered the best in the fleet.

Jason Flint was not only his best operative, he been his most trusted friend since the academy. It wasn’t like his old friend to be late or report a problem. Jason was in trouble.

The orders where to move on to the next sector, but he couldn’t leave Flint. He’d have to go looking for him.

His Nebraska drawl cut through the low engine rumble.

“Gianelli, take command. I’m going to suit up”

“But, sir” The dusky haired Providence tough guy, could be a bit of a hothead, but he could handle the ship while Walker did what had to be done.

“Do it!”

Walker striped of his T-shirt to unveiling a classical torso dusted lightly by blonde viking hair, and strode purposefully toward the gear to suit up. Shiny dog tags glinted against his tan naked chest.

By the time he reached the equipment chamber, he was down to small white skivvies. This cotton conformed to the efficient musculature of his hips, and sharply dimpled ass.

He skimmed efficiently out of these, the spherical perfection of his steel glutes highlighted by the contrast of his dark tan against the virginal white of the skin never exposed to the sun’s longing rays. and carefully “painted on” the legs of his snug wet suit. It took time to cover each curve with the snug nylon, he had just reached his hips when

The ships alarm sounded.

He hit the intercom button with his meaty fist.

“Walker”

“It’s Flanagan, Sir”

Wil Flanagan, the youngest member of the crew had been assigned late, and wasn’t even on the official roster. Despite his deceptively rounded baby face, the kid had promise. Clothed, one might mistake him for chubby. He was anything but. His broad shoulders, massive chest, tree trunk legs, and full round ass pulled most covering into a shape which belied his cut and tapered waist. Unclothed, it was plain that he carried nothing but muscle on his stocky 5’9 frame. In fact he prided himself on a near complete lack of unnecessary body fat. Still his youthful muscles seemed round, full, and well, ripe, like spring peaches.

“Sir, we’ve found something. I think you’d better get down here”

“Flint?”

“No sir, it’s something I’ve never seen”

“I’m on my way”

Walker’s habitual stoic calm was for the first time in his young life, shaken to it’s core by the sight of the otherworldly bodies of the strange creatures before them. His analytic mind struggled to come to terms with the scaly humanoids oozing water and slime before him

Slightly shorter than humans, with long gangly, ape like extremities. His inner self was haunted by an instinctual sense of doom probably caused by the bizarre reality of their disproportionately huge finned dicks. What were these things? Where did they come from? What had killed them?

Did the have something to do with Flint’s disappearance?

“Report”

“We don’t know sir” Flanagan was trying to keep his voice steady. “The surveillance cameras picked up these shapes on a coral outcropping. There is no sign of trauma, Doc suspects a poison”

At 36, Doc was the oldest member of the crew, and an intimidating presence due to his shaved head, 6’3 frame, and a hard hair covered body more of a body building biker than skilled physician.

“Where is Doc?”

“Gone to sick bay, sir to prepare for the autopsy”

Walker nodded, Doc was always one step ahead.

He ordered Flanagan and two crewman to bring the bodies to sick bay

“I’ll go to the bridge and report to headquarters, Flanagan remain in sick bay and assist Doc. Volpe, Waggoner, suit up after delivering the bodies, I want you out there to see if there are more of these things, or any sign of Flint”

“Yes sir!”

Still bare chested, the half worn wetsuit riding low on his hips, exposing the dimpled curve of upper buttock, he stormed onto deck, brushing past the started Gianelli, and grabbed the radio.

“This is Commander Mitchell Walker of the U.S.S Hunter. This is an urgent message”

Through static he heard a faint voice.

“Go ahead Mitch buzzzzzz… This Admir..zzzzz ..”

The connection went dead “Goddammit! Gianelli I want a signal on this piece of shit NOW!”

“Yessir”

The lights went dead, only the dim emergency lighting illuminated the chamber. Red alert was sounding. The engines began to whine. They were moving!!

The intercom cut through the blaring horn. It was Doc

“Mitch, get down here those things are alive!!!!”

“They pushed me out of sick bay! The doors barred! Get security here NOW!! They’ve got Flanagan knocked out. They’ve stripped hi.. Oh God!! NO!!

“Doc, what is it?”

“They’re….. eating him!!! They’re cutting off his a.. AGGGHHHHH!!!”

“DOC!!!!!”

A rhythmic pounding could be heard

” AAAAHHHH unng…Ungh ug.. ung… ung….huh huh huh huh ung…”

“SECURTY TO SICK BAY!!!”

No answer came.

Walker and Gianelli rushed to the portal. Gianelli was flung back against the control panel by a single blow from the frogman’s pike. There were three, waiting for them in the door, but they weren’t ready for Walker’s superior strength, speed, and lethal precision. The blonde, bare- chested commander learned quickly that these things were not exceptional fighters, slow, awkward, not especially strong, at least on land, and surprisingly cowardly.

Within seconds two of the monsters lay dead at his feet, the third in cowering retreat.

Gunshots fired in the gloom.

Walker, and a quickly recovered, but bleeding Gianelli followed in hot pursuit.

“Try not to shoot in here Dominic! Too risky, use your knife”

The ship was crawling with them. Where did they all come from?

The crew, was handling them ably, but there were so many. Water was spraying in from pipes, in the thick dim confines of the sub wet muscles strived against slimy scales, Blood, both red and black coated the floor with slippery dark ooze. Walker and Gianelli fought there way through the ship, leaving awake of frogmen in their path toward sick bay, where they found those few unfortunate enough to fall to the sudden attack, including an unconscious Doc, his body, once a walking threat, stripped naked bounced into the floor with each thrust from the invading cock of the frogman who had caught him off guard. Red blood covered the floor but there was no remaining sign of the unlucky Flanagan . Walker nearly retched at the thought of sharp fangs plunging into the young juicy muscles of the doomed crewman, and prayed Flint was still alive..

Walker quickly dispatched with the rapist. Doc, bleeding from scratches, bites, and his conquered asshole, was alive but badly hurt. He looked up at Gianelli.

“We’ve got to secure the airlock!”

They hacked a bloody path to the other side of the vessel to the equipment chamber. More creatures were pouring through.

Walker squared off against one particularly tenacious opponent. His dagger plunged in past it scales, at least four times, it bled, but remained standing. These ugly fuckers were getting bold, and Walker was getting tired. His breathing was becoming deep and laboured, and he became aware of a sweet pungent smell invading his nostrils, lungs, and head. His vision began to track, and his movements slowed. The monster seemed to slow with him, watching. A lizard tongue darted out and circled it’s mouth, licking the fanged and lipless opening. He began to stumble as if stoned, and to his amazement, he was growing rock hard. A warm, ticklish sensation washed through him with every breath. A fuzzy tingling at the base of his neck, beneath his ribs, the back of his knees, and his armpits, making him almost laugh. It spread like two small flames into his now pointing nipples, along the base of his spine, a dull throbbing ache into his twitching asshole, shooting a painful heat into his engorged dick straining naked against the snug nylon of his low riding wetsuit.

He darted a glance toward Gianelli who had fallen to his knees, and did not resist as the frogman tore open his shirt revealing wide bronze muscle coated in black hair and sweat. Other moaning comrades undulated slowly on the wet, slimy floor as their lustful attackers began to move in. His brow furrowed, puzzled as if trying to work out an equation. He could not move to help them. He caught sight of a vent.

They had gotten into the ventilation system!

They were breathing some kind of narcotic gas.

The intrepid Commander took a swing at his opponent, only to fall into the monster’s arms like a drunken prom date. His knife clattered to the floor. Thin, scaly arms lovingly unfolded the burnished cables of muscle, webbed hands bravely followed the tapering trail of waistline, and began, with difficulty, to pull the wet nylon of the muscular swell of Walker’s tight ass. The barely conscious stud groaned as his newly freed cock pulsed against the sandpaper scales of the frogman’s leg. The monster fell, wounded, onto a bench, pulling the defeated bare assed warrior over his knee, like a naughty child. The creature, froze for a moment, gaping in awe at the white dimpled globes, contrasting with the dark skin of the tapered waist above, and the black nylon which still hobbled the meaty thighs, exposed and vulnerable to it’s whim.

With all of it’s vengeful might, the webbed claw descended in a reign of stinging blows. The sensitive ivory skin blushed angry red under the punishment. Walker’s gruff moan echoed through the chamber, as the blows pounded his dripping cock against the tiny sharp scales onto which it was pressed. His blurring eyes scanned the chamber, witness to a hellish scene of rape and carnage. A webbed fist forced it’s way into Gianelli’s helpless hole, and the Italian tough joined a choir of masculine moans and screams. The impaled hunk, in agony, kicked over an oxygen tank which rolled just within Walker’s reach.

That’s it! If only he could…

With his remaining strength, he rolled off his assailants lap face up, cock pointing straight at the far away surface his smooth broad back seeped in ooze and seawater on the floor. The bleeding frogman knelt at his side, and gently scooped the limp stud, into the crook of one arm, the close cropped blonde head hung submissively backward, playing freely along the beefy lines of the classical torso. It opened it’s mouth exposing rows of sharp fangs. Walker dimly wondered if he was to become it’s meal. But the mouth nibbled softly down the path forged by it’s hand, kissing into the blonde forest at the base, and finally enveloping the helpless Commander’s raging cock.

The tiny threatening fangs only added to the burning eroticism of what had to be the most intense blow job he had ever experienced. Lighting bolts of need shot through his blown mind. His ass clenched,and he began to thrust up into the all powerful vortex. He began to writhe in horrified ecstacy, and his hand brushed against his fallen knife. From somewhere within him, he found the last scrap of self control.

“NO!”

He grabbed the blade and plunged it into his rapist’s skull.

The creature shuddered, but still sucked, Walker shuddered with it, and released a steaming load of cum into the dead frogman’s throat.

With the other creatures distracted by their own prey, he was able to reach the tank unnoticed.

He pulled the regulator into his mouth and began to breathe real, pure oxygen. His mind began to clear.

Faraway, he heard a banging and felt the ship come into a dock. All systems whirred to a stop, the alarm finally silenced. An unfamiliar pinging rang through the ship, and all the creatures stood. Each one reached down and threw a naked crewman over it’s shoulder. A nightmarish procession of naked upraised buttocks, carried by the silent monsters began to exit the sub toward an unfathomable doom.

He felt more webbed hands remove the last of his wetsuit, claim his limp form, and finally pull the dead mouth, off of his still hard and sticky member.

This was the only way to get in. He cupped the blade along his wrist. He knew it wasn’t his hands they were looking at.

Blood rushed to his head pointing down at the floor. His sweaty pecs pressed into the hunched finback, and his cock was trapped painfully between his own weight, and the boney scaled shoulder. He felt the humiliation of the cool air kissing his naked ass, pointed skyward. A captured prize on display.

His arms, head and legs swayed with the frogman’s movement, as if oblivious to his predicament. He did not react as the webbed fingers cupped the smooth hairless gluteal curve.

He felt himself carried, out of the ship through an unfamiliar airlock, and prayed he was last in line.

He counted to ten and then sank his blade under the ribs of his captor, who thankfully, made no sound, and rode the dying form to the ground.

Walker looked up and saw Gianelli’s head and forearms hanging as he was carried up a ladder. Assessing the situation quickly he pulled the dead frogman into a supply closet, and moved silently to follow his captured men.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Ajax is humiliated when he’s forced to strip naked for an effeminate tailor during his uniform fitting.

Antebellum – Chapter 2: Shopping
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

We drove off through the streets of the city until we came to a big store. I was taken in a side entrance by the Master and found I was in a clothing warehouse. I want this slave fitted out with appropriate house kit for serving at table. White shirts, ties, black tailcoat and pants, socks and a good fitting pair of shoes, he never wore shoes before.’

The clerk, who was one of the effeminate men at the slave yard earlier, said, ‘It would be easier if I could measure him stripped down, Mr Richards.’ ‘Strip to your shorts, nigger.’ The Master said. I shucked my shirt only to feel the full force of my Master’s hand on my face. ‘You forgetting yourself, slave? Don’t you reply to an order?’ ‘Sorry, massa, yes massa.’ ‘Good, now you cooperate with the gentleman.’ He said. ‘Yes massa.’

‘I’ll be back in a few minutes, sir, feel free to order him.’ ‘Well, sir, I would prefer to measure him naked.’ The mincing assistant said. ‘Well tell him.’ I swallowed hard at the treatment I was receiving when the clerk said, ‘OK big boy, drop your shorts and show me what a well-hung nigger you are.’ I dropped my pants for him and stood up. To my surprise he slapped my cheek again and said, ‘You slaves never learn, your forgot to say ‘Yes sir.’ ‘Sorry sir, yes sir.’ I said, my eyes watering as he measured my neck, chest, waist and arms both around and along. He squatted down and measured my inside leg and then lifted my cock and felt my nuts. He played with my cock and massaged it until I was hard and then he measured the length and circumference. ‘Holy Cow!’ He gasped; 10” long and 7 ½” round! You ever killed anyone with that thing, boy?’ He brought his face closer and I thought he was going to take it in his mouth but at this point my Master returned and he told me to pull up my shorts and get dressed. ‘I’ll be at the Casino Hotel until about two,’ he said to the assistant, ‘Make sure they are delivered on time, otherwise you will have to deliver them to my spread.’ So, I thought, I am to be taught to work indoors.

We returned to the cart and drove on. We came to a yard, above the gate a sign said: ‘Sayers – corn merchant and general agricultural supplier’. Amos was ordered to tie the horses to a bar. ‘OK boys, shirts off, work to be done.’ We stripped to the waist. ‘That’s what I like to see, niggers shirtless and working. Only have them in a shirt if some finicky old ladies are around. Follow me. I have an order to collect.’ We were shown a pile of large sacks of grain seeds. ‘Stack the wagon and make sure the load is secure, anything falling off and you can expect a visit from the lash.’ ‘Yes massa,’ we both said and set to work loading the 30 or so heavy sacks.

The Master climbed back up and I was rechained to the decking as we set off to the more fashionable part of town where we stopped outside the Casino Hotel. A negro on the door welcomed the Master and showed him into the establishment. Our wagon with us on it was led round to the yard. We were fed and watered and dozed for an hour or so until the Master returned in a jovial mood with a friend. ‘Amos, unchain the new nigger’s wrists. Ajax, get down here, boy.’ ‘Yes massa.’ I said. ‘Wow, he is big!’ the Master’s friend said, ‘Shuck your shirt, nigger.’ ‘Yes sah.’ I said stripping to the waist and fearing another thorough look over. However it was not to be, he just felt my chest and arms and expressed a certain pleasure to the Master. ‘A fine looking young brute,’ he mused as he felt my shoulders. A negro servant from the hotel carried and lifted a large, brown cardboard box on the wagon. I was ordered back up and chained again. We set off on the road out of town to the north and not, where had come from last evening, the west, and drove well into the late evening.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

Ajax arrives at his new home, Paradise Plantation, and quickly learns it will be anything but a paradise for him. He suffers a painful branding then is forced to produce a load to test his potentcy.

Antebellum – Chapter 3: Welcome to Paradise
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

We eventually arrived at a grand Louisiana plantation house with white, classical columns along the front. A sign at the entrance gate said:
Paradise Plantation
No trespassing
The Master climbed down at the front door and told a slave to take us to the yard and find Boss Raikes. The slave drove the cart round and found the boss, a heavy man with a whip coiled in his belt. He went off to the house and shortly returned and ordered us down. Amos went off to his quarters and I was taken to the barn where I was stripped naked and a chain locked between my collar and ring in the wall of a stall. I was fed a bowl of spiced gruel and water and told to sleep.

The next morning started with what I learnt was the first work bell at 5 am. All slaves dressed and paraded for duties. At the second bell, about 10 minutes later, they were sent to their various tasks being careful not to make any noise round the house and disturb the Master. I was not sent out on the first morning but was kept on my chain and told to sleep until woken up later. Some time later I was fed and watered and the Master came in. He was dressed more roughly than he had been the previous day. My chain was unlocked and he told me to stand up. I reached for my clothes. ‘No need for clothes this morning, nigger, I bought you for your body and I see no reason to keep it covered.’ I followed him out on my lead feeling self-conscious of my nakedness.

We came across a slave hoeing a vegetable garden. ‘Over here, nigger.’ The Master said. The slave said, ‘Yes massa,’ and hobbled over, one of his feet horribly misshaped and deformed. ‘Tell the new nigger why you walk bad and your foot is crippled, boy.’ ‘Yes massa, it’s because I ran off a couple of times. First time I was caught the massa and Mr. Raikes branded my forehead and I got 39 lashes with the bullwhip. Second time I got that again and massa and Mr. Raikes put my foot in the wedge box and mangled it so I couldn’t run no more.’ ‘Take note of that, Ajax, if you ever think of taking off. We’ll catch you, bring you back and cripple you, boy.’ ‘Yes massa.’ I said, swallowing hard at the sight of the maimed slave. I had noticed the brand marks on the slave’s forehead and left shoulder and assumed it part of his punishment.

We walked on further down to where I heard the sound of hammering on metal. I saw another nigger working by the side of the road, also shirtless. We stopped by him and the Master said to him, ‘Sing a song, nigger.’ The slave looked with fear and agony in his eyes and made some grunting sounds. Tears welled up in his eyes. The Master laughed and said, mockingly, ‘Oh! I forgot, I had you muted after you were gossiping about life in the big house.’ He turned to me and said, ‘That was his second offence, for a first offence of gossiping about his Master he had his mouth washed out with kitchen soap. Be warned, Ajax, life on this plantation can be good for an obedient and hard working nigger and hell for one who displeases me.’ I looked at the ground and said, ‘Yes massa.’

We went into a large shed where the blacksmith was working with three big assistants. ‘You ready, Abbey?’ The Master said. ‘Yes massa.’ ‘OK, do it.’ The assistants came to me and quickly pinioned my arms at my side with a broad leather belt. I was dragged between two posts and my ankles and collar held so that movement was impossible. I was nervous about what they were going to do. Then to my horror I saw the blacksmith withdraw a yellow hot iron from his brazier and approach me. ‘No, mercy, massa, please massa!’ I yelled, my body shaking and petrified with fear. The Master slapped my face and said, ‘Shut up, nigger!’ as the blacksmith plunged the iron onto my left deltoid, my shoulder. The pain was intense and the smell of my burning flesh was sickening. I yelled in agony. They replaced the iron in the fire as I recovered and one of the assistants threw cold water over the brand. Then the blacksmith approached me again with the iron, this time from behind, and I felt it pressed into the upper part of my right buttock. I screamed again at the excruciating pain and my legs buckled and I felt my self lose control of my bowels and bladder, messing the floor and my legs with my own shit and piss.

‘Good boy,’ the Master said, ‘most niggers scream when they are branded but I am old fashioned and believe my livestock, cattle, horses and slaves should all be marked, it saves a lot of time and trouble if you stray. The sheriff knows who owns you when he sees the capital “R” brand. As a nigger you should be proud to wear my mark, in this locality a slave or any other animal with my brand is regarded as quality livestock. It is considered a mark of honour. Also, now you are marked, I can let you off your chains. But you will continue to wear your collar, manacles and shackles unless I say so.’ ‘Yes massa, thank you massa,’ I groveled, tears streaming down my face, the intense pain on my shoulder and ass still searingly hot and distracting me from the reality of his words.

I grunted as he touched my shoulder and felt the mark. ‘Soon be OK, Ajax, go and cool off in the horse pond over there.’ I looked at the pond cautiously, I had a fear of water. ‘Go on nigger, jump in!’ He said bring his crop across my naked ass hard. I ran and jumped in the cool water and found it was not deep, about four feet. When he called me out my brand marks felt a lot better but, of course, still hurt.

I followed him to a broad, well-kept lawn of deep green grass. ‘Now to dry you off, nigger.’ He said, removing a ball from his pocket. ‘When I throw the ball I want you to run as fast as you can and retrieve it, bring it back to me, understand, nigger.’ ‘Yes massa.’ I was affronted to be played with like a dog but I knew that lack of compliance would bring the whip. He threw the ball with surprising strength and I sprinted after it, my cock swinging and slapping against my thighs and balls. I ran back and handed it to him. He repeated this about 20 times and then pocketed the ball and we went on to the slave quarters. On the way he said, ‘You ever done any fighting, slaveboy? Wrestling, brawling, bare knuckle?’ ‘I have done rassling, massa, and a bit a brawling but no bare knuckle. Massa Hardy said he didn’t want my pretty face messed up.’ ‘Mm, he was right. Still, wrestling’s good enough to give me and my friends some sport when I pitch you against their niggers for a wager.’

He took me to a building I was to become very acquainted with and unlocked the door. It was barely furnished with a padded bench about three feet off the floor covered in oil cloth. The Master turned to me and said, ‘Ajax, listen up and listen well. Those two slaves, the cripple and the mute one, you remember why they were punished, nigger?’

‘Yes massa, one for running and one for chattering.’ ‘You ain’t so dumb, boy. Now here we are in the breeding shed where you will regularly be put to a wench to fornicate and provide me with more livestock. I consider all slave juice to be my property. You know what I mean by slave juice?’ My head bowed I was too embarrassed to answer and coloured up. He tapped my cock with his crop and said, ‘This is where slave juice comes from, nigger, understand?’ ‘Yes massa.’ I croaked, my voice was hoarse and dry. ‘It’s mine, boy, and you produce it only when I order it or one of the overseers in my place. If ever I catch you fornicating with a wench or whatever you ain’t supposed to be with, or just playing with it, I’ll consider it as theft of my property and I’ll send for Dr Sullivan and have you castrated, nigger, just like any other male animal on my spread, understand?’ ‘Yes, massa.’ I said, genuinely afraid because I believed he was capable of it. ‘Now I am going to test your potency, nigger. Get on the bench and get hard.’ He took his coat off and hung it on a nail. ‘Please massa; don’t make me do this, massa.’ He brought the crop down hard across my abs and said, ‘get on with it nigger.’

I massaged myself until I was rock hard. He moved my hand away and stroked my rigid cock. It twitched to his touch as if it had a life of its own. I began to enjoy the sensation as he pulled the skin back and forth and cupped and played with my balls. ‘Jesus Christ, nigger this is some mighty cock!’ He took a tin cup from a shelf and told me to carry on jacking myself. I felt his fingers stroke my nipples and after a few minutes began to feel the tingle in my balls telling me that I would shortly come. ‘Oh massa, I am going to shoot, massa.’ ‘Get it all in the cup, try not to spill it.’ I jerked as my lust hunger was satisfied and great gobs of creamy white cum spurted into the cup as I spasmed on the couch. I hollered and groaned and then fell back spent. The Master looked at the cup and smiled. ‘Very good, nigger, enough for 20 straws if we inseminated the wenches by hand.’ To my surprise he dipped a finger into the cup and licked it. ‘Mm, good quality and thick consistency. This dick is going to make money for Paradise.’

I was sent to the overseer’s office. He gave me a loincloth and said, ‘Cover yourself, nigger. I know the Master likes his slaves naked but I believe in modesty.’ ‘Yes sah.’ I said tying the cloth round my waist and between my legs. ‘You ever done fencing work, boy? Driving in fence posts?’ ‘Yes sah.’ Pick up that sledge hammer and follow me.’

I followed him out of the hut and he mounted his horse. I followed him for about a mile until we came to a long, straight stretch of road. Along one side were laying white-painted wooden fence posts. ‘There are about a hundred of them, nigger, the holes are already dug, a little narrow so they are secure. I want them all driven in to this depth.’ He handed me a piece of wood the length of which he wanted the posts to stand out of the ground. ‘You make sure they are straight, firm and regular, nigger.’ ‘Yes sah.’ I said as he rode off. I began the work and after about five or six posts the vittels wagon came up and stopped. I was given a high fibre, high protein and high carbo meal. Seems my new Master had taken on a few of Master Hardy’s ideas. I carried on the work under the hot sun and, as I was on the last two the overseer came up and inspected my work. ‘Good boy.’ I followed him back to the house and handed in the sledgehammer.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

Following the death of his master, a muscled young slave is purchased by a much harsher master and forced to work on a Lousiana plantation in this series from new author Drum.

Antebellum – Chapter 1: The Sale
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

Once the old Master, Mr. Hardy, was buried and his son got his hands on the property things moved quickly. We slaves were afraid and uncertain of our future. Master Hardy had been strict but fair and to be whipped or punished he demanded that the penalty was fully proven and justified. I had managed to escape a serious whipping in my life there except once for stealing food. I had always worked hard and even enjoyed his special ‘training programme’ for the bigger slaves. I benefited from the added exercises and the lifting of rocks and stones to build up my muscles and the food was better for what he called his ‘muscle slaves’. We did not know what to expect for the future. I had been born on Mr. Hardy’s plantation but I had heard bad things from slaves who Mr. Hardy had bought and set to work. They told of other masters crueler and less fair than ours.

A dealer came one day soon after the funeral and we were lined up. He chose only 10 of us, all males. ‘I only want big, strong niggers.’ He said, ‘I have a reputation for quality. Besides, it don’t do to have too many from the same establishment. They can get rebellious if they think they are numerous enough. I also only choose from one sex so we don’t risk inbreeding.’

Money changed hands and we were led out to the wagon. The dealer, who wore a wide-brimmed hat and an open necked white shirt, carried a bullwhip. ‘OK, you niggers, shuck your shirts.’ We stripped to the waist and he locked a collar and pair of connected manacles on each of us. The he snapped, ‘Get naked!’ We dropped our pants and shorts and he placed chained shackles on our ankles. Our clothes were placed in a wooden box and put under the front seat. ‘Now up in the wagon.’ He turned to Master Hardy’s son and said, ‘Easiest way of controlling them. Lock them in naked and then, if they do get free they ain’t going to get far naked and in chains.

The wagon rolled out of the yard and down to the main road. We could see through gaps in the woodwork and I saw we were heading towards New Orleans. It was the biggest city in the area and I had heard things about the place from slaves on the plantation. I knew, for example, that there were many slave dealers operating there. After what seemed like several hours, it must have been about eight or nine because it was getting dark and we had left in the middle of morning, we were in the centre of the noisy, busy city. I had never seen so many people in my life and such fine clothes, even some of the niggers wore fancy clothing. Eventually the wagon turned into a large yard and the gates swung shut behind us. We were ordered out and stood around waiting orders. The yard was surrounded by a high wall which had broken glass set in concrete along to top of it. In the middle of one wall hung a wooden notice board which read:
H. C. VIGGARS
Dealers in slaves, mules and general livestock
(established 1810)
Of course, I did not let on that I could read. I had been taught by Mr. Hardy’s daughter when she was a girl but we had kept quiet about it. Didn’t do to educate slaves. In some places it was forbidden. We were fed and watered and bedded, chained in stalls in a stable block for the night.

I woke to the sound of a club being run along the bars of the stable door and I looked around myself and remembered where I was. I turned under the rough old blanket on the clean straw of the stall I was in. I felt the iron collar and chain that was attached to the wall and stood up. In the yard the previous evening I heard a well-dressed man who was looking at us say ‘It shouldn’t be hard selling these, old Hardy always had a reputation for quality among his stock and these are fine specimens. Big, strong, hard-working stock, virile males and fertile wenches. He certainly knew how to breed niggers and keep them in good shape.’ had said looking at us as we stood stripped to the waist under the big sign. ‘He even made them do extra work, after they had finished in the fields, like lifting rocks and tree trunks, said it built up their muscles if you fed them the right food.’ He went on, stopping in from of me and looking my upper body over, ‘Certainly seems to have worked on this one, rarely seen muscle like this on a slave.’

The man he was talking to wore more day-to-day clothes and carried a whip. ‘He’s a fine looking animal, Mr. Viggars.’ My head was bowed as I had been told to stand and I saw the man’s hand come up and felt his fingers press my pecs, ‘Mm, good firm muscle.’
They fed us a breakfast of a fish gut stew with slave biscuits and we were ordered naked out in the yard. Large cakes of soap were handed out and we washed under the hose of one of the guards. The sun was already hot and we dried off naturally and quickly. We were ordered to rub each other down with some oil to give our skins a sheen. When we were finished I caught a glimpse of myself in a glass and liked the way I looked – the muscles looked even better than usual when they shone with oil. The man with the whip, who I learnt was Viggars’s head steward, saw me looking at myself and said, ‘Very good, slave what do you see in there?’ I bowed my head and said, uncertain of what he wanted to hear, ‘Not sure, sir.’ ‘I see a top dollar nigger,’ He said, ‘Now repeat after me, I see a top dollar nigger.’ ‘Yes sir, I see a top dollar nigger, sir.’ ‘Good boy, not dumb either.’ He walked away cracking his whip at some younger boys who were horsing around.

The slaves who had a craft, blacksmiths, carpenters, drivers, house-servants and such like were told to dress and then manacled, shackled and led to the wall where their collars were attached by a chain to rings set in the masonry. Those of us to be sold as field hands and labourers and, therefore, for our muscles and strength were handed strips of white cotton about four feet long and about eight inches wide and told to tie them as loincloths. They covered very little. ‘Tie them good and tight deep between your buttocks and a nice big bulging pouch – want the folk to see what fine big breeding brutes you are.’ We were fitted with more manacles and shackles the coldness of which was curiously stimulating. They were each joined by chains of about two feet in length. We were led to the wall and also chained by the collar to rings.

Soon the customers were allowed in. They mostly carried pencils and catalogues and marked down notes on each of us. I would occasionally be ordered to flex my arms or turn round and display my shoulders and back. A couple of effeminately acting men came along the row and were interested in us loinclothed slaves. They were well-dressed in silk shirts and wore shining top hats and carried canes. They stopped in front of me and one said, ‘Why holy Jesus, look at this hunk!’ ‘My yes,’ the other said, ‘Look at the muscles and bulge in his cloth. He must be hung like a horse. Flex your arms, nigger.’

‘Yes sir.’ I said. I flexed for them and they both felt my biceps over and then stroked my chest hair. I was told to turn round. ‘Look at that arse! I’d love to own him but if you tried any funny business on him he’d probably kill you.’ The first one said as they walked away. Deep inside I was amused. Little did they know quite how mixed my tastes had been influenced by my training. Or what we boys got up to in desperation when we hadn’t been given a wench to knock up for a while. Soon a bell rang and the customers went inside for the morning sale of females and juvenile males up to about 12 year of age.

Some time later a tall, well set up gentleman came into the yard. He had dark hair and wore eye glasses. He was accompanied by the chief steward and a boy. They came straight up to me. ‘Is this the famous specimen you told me about, Forbes?’ He said with a hard edged voice. ‘Yes, Mr. Richards.’ ‘An impressive animal,’ Mr. Richards said, raising my face from my head bowed stance with the handle of his cane. ‘What’s your name and how old are you, nigger?’ ‘I am called Ajax, sir and I am about 25, sir.’ He fingered my rough chin and cheeks. ‘When were you last shaved, nigger?’ ‘Two days ago, sir.’ He seemed pleased and fingered my stubble some more. ‘By his lightish colouring, high cheek bones and narrower than usual lips and nose I would say he had some human blood in him.’ Mr. Richards remarked. ‘I believe his great-grand dam was knocked up by a white gentleman, sir,’ Forbes replied. ‘Good, well-diluted but enough to please the eye.’ ‘How does he move, I don’t want one of those niggers that slouch around?’

Forbes unlocked the chain from the wall and told the boy to remove the chain from the shackles, ‘Walk and run him round the yard, Jimmy.’ He said. ‘Come on nigger.’ The boy said jerking my lead. I walked following the boy. My back was straight and I had a spring in my step, my chest out and shoulders back. ‘OK, Jimmy, run him.’ We broke into a run and circled the yard a few times before I was brought back. ‘Nice, moves well and with some grace,’ Mr. Richards said. He stroked and pressed my pecs. ‘Good firm muscle on him and, unusually, a coating of hair on his chest.’ He said stroking it. ‘Flex your arms, nigger.’ ‘Yes sir.’ I said obeying his order.

He felt them and had me turn round and I felt his hands on my shoulders and upper back. ‘Good, no whip marks, sign of a hard-working and obedient nigger. well-shaped hams as well.’ He said as I felt his fingers press my buttocks. I clenched and relaxed them a few times without being ordered. ‘Good boy.’ He said administering a playful slap on one of them. ‘Now, as you know Forbes, I am not only looking for muscled field niggers but I have an interest in breeding. It’s very profitable ever since those damned British banned the trade from the seas making imports damn nearly impossible. Do you know anything about his record?’ ‘His last Master kept details on all his livestock, Mr. Richards, Ajax was a very good breeder and produced, on average, about 10 a year with various wenches since he was about 18.’ ‘Oh, so he is keen on females, then.’ Mr. Richards said. I think I detected a little disappointment in his voice. ‘Not that it matters because we can always resort to bacon rind or bailing twine round his root if there’s a problem. Mind if I take a look, make sure he’s whole? ‘Go ahead, sir, you would not want to buy a pig in a poke.’ Forbes said. I swallowed hard, my throat dry at this indignity but, of course, kept my arms at my side and stared straight ahead. My cock was somewhat engorged at all this talk of breeding. Mr. Richards untied my cloth and let it drop to the ground. I felt him heft my cock into his hand. ‘Nice and heavy, big boy.’ He cupped my balls and gently squeezed them. ‘Big, low hangers and meaty, full of juice. Yes Mr. Forbes, a fine young stallion you have here. Of course, I’ll test his potency later. Cover yourself, nigger.’ ‘Yes sir,’ I said, my eyes stinging wet with the humiliating experience. ‘OK, Mr. Forbes, we’ll find Mr. Viggars and negotiate a price. I have no time for the auction room today.’ I retied my cloth and was chained to the ring again while they went off.

Soon I was taken inside, told to dress in my shirt, shorts and pants and led out to where Mr. Richards stood. ‘I’ll take his restraints as well, he looks good in them.’ My new Master said. ‘Got yourself a fine piece of property there, sir,’ Mr. Viggars said, ‘Fine looking animal, still young but promising.’ I was led to a wagon at the back of the dealer’s premises. A slave stood holding the horses’ reins. He doffed his straw hat and bowed to my new Master. The Master climbed up onto the bench and said, ‘You niggers get up on the buckboard.’ ‘Yes Massa,’ the other slave said and I echoed him. The Master said, ‘Amos, chain his manacles to a staple in the floor of the wagon in case he gets ideas of running.’ ‘Yes Massa,’ he replied as he locked my manacle chain to a ring on the wagon’s floor.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER
Enjoy the story? Send Drum a private message! Or comment below.

Vote for your favorite stories from August & September. We are awarding prizes to the authors of the top 3 stories. You may vote for up to THREE different stories. Follow the link below the results to enjoy this month’s bonus story.

Poll closes 10/31/2016.

Best of August & September

• Todd Sanders by Amalaric (19%, 11 Votes)
• Lord Chatterley’s Forester by Amalaric (18%, 10 Votes)
• Drained by the Tutor by MattySchmatty (16%, 9 Votes)
• Afghan Hell Parts 6-8 by DonaldSteve (12%, 7 Votes)
• Sins of the Father by GayStoryTeller (12%, 7 Votes)
• The Ex-Military Police Officer by bbtallman (7%, 4 Votes)
• Superfan by Ricky Jaye (5%, 3 Votes)
• Chastity Men by Strong (5%, 3 Votes)
• Cort & Ryder – Chapter 7 by Ragnar1963 (5%, 3 Votes)

Total Voters: 33

This Month's Voter Bonus Story: Poll Closed

 Loading ...

———————————————————-
Prizes
The authors of the TOP 3 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 3 different stories. (So you can choose 1 story or 2 or 3).
-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.

———————————————————-

Fry’s endurance is tested when Grey has him stretched tight, hanging by his thumbs in the desert heat.

Afghan Hell: Part 6 – Hanging By His Thumbs
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: Afghan Hell

Enjoy the story? Send DonaldSteve a private message! Or comment below.

Grey looked him up and down and said. “Your private hell is about to start ma wee man” He turned the winch a bit more and Fry’s heels rose, his toes scrabbling around on the concrete to make contact. Grey laughed, “I was wondering how you would take this.” He wound the winch further. The ratchet clacking as it took the strain. Grey was able watch while he worked and witnessed Fry’s body rise slowly in the air, his feet clear of the ground. He kept winding until Fry’s feet were two feet in the air then locked it all in place leaving Fry blinking into the sun, his white teeth clenched as he felt the pain building up.

Initially he felt just numbness in his thumbs but there was a terrible ache in his arms from his elbows to his shoulders. He gasped and attempted to adjust his position but nothing helped. Grey looked up at him. His arms, corded and straining were straight up trapping his head between his thick biceps. His fingers were bent into a fist but his thumbs stood up vertically inside their restraints. He hung with his legs slightly open and slightly bent giving him a bow legged appearance, and looked down on Grey with steely eyes. Through clenched teeth he said, “I am glad I gave a bastard like you a hard time Grey. I wouldn’t change a thing.” And with a good aim he spat right between Grey’s eyes. Grey wiped it away with fury and failing to find anything near him with which to retaliate he grabbed Fry’s legs and sent him swinging.

Fry closed his eyes as the agony shot through his arms and back. He heard Grey as from a distance, “This is just the beginning laddie. There is much to come.” And he walked away leaving Fry swinging in the light breeze. He called over his shoulder “ I will see you tonight. Maybe we can have a proper chat.”

The sun climbed higher into the sky and illuminated his almost naked body turning it the colour of gold. Through pain glazed eyes he was able to see over the wall to the desert beyond. Several times in that first hour he attempted to curl his fingers round the cords to give him some respite but met with failure. To be able to succeed was impossible unless he managed to draw his weight up on his thumbs. And just for once his 190 pounds betrayed him. For the first time in his life he felt fear. Not of dying, but of the pain that Grey was going to inflict on him in the days and weeks to come. He attempted to focus, to put himself in that trance like state that had helped in the cold room several days before. But like the torture sessions that had followed that first day, he was unable to summon up the will power, and the fear took hold of him causing him to shake.

After the second hour deep throbbing pains started to stab his hands. His thumbs felt as if a burning brand was attached to them. The full lengths of his arms were feeling the strain. Burning cramps attacked them causing his arms to spasm. By afternoon, after hanging there for seven hours his back chest and shoulders screamed at him. Through his half closed eyes he sensed a movement and opening them he found himself looking down on several men. Some uniformed some in ordinary clothes. He surprised himself by identifying them as Grey’s students and this was confirmed when Grey walked over to join them.

”This young man has been a thorn in my side for two years. Like me he joined the army at an early age and also like me he joined the SAS. Two or three years ago at the age of 24 he joined PEACEHAVEN with the sole aim of destroying this organisation. As you can see he didn’t succeed and has ended up as one of the subjects in your lectures here.”

Laughing he reached up high and pushed at Fry’s legs sending him spinning. Fry cried out uttering a long drawn out groan that echoed across the compound. His vision turned red and purple as the pain streaked from his thumbs to his shoulders.

“He is a good strong specimen who will I think last for a long long time. He has a good physique, which is always a bonus when you use a subject in a class. You will all be seeing a lot more of him in the next few days. I will not have him hurt by you unless I give my permission to do so. Neither will you abuse him, or humiliate him. You will respect his suffering, and watch what happens. I do not want any of you men turning your head away. I only ask that you look and learn. He has the hardest job. He has to endure and suffer.” He turned away, ignoring Fry as he swung slowly in the air. “Now lets get back to the classroom. You will see him again tomorrow.”

Grey’s words triggered something in Fry and he again attempted to find that inner self. where he could hide and control some e pain. Once again he centred in on his groin, and his subconscious wondered if that part of him was taking over, as it had when he was a child. Taking comfort in sexual stimulation when things got tough.

He wondered if he was developing masochistic tendencies, then dismissed it from his mind as he realised that anything that relieved the pain and made it almost a pleasure was acceptable. So he sunk into the deep warm world where his harrowing pain was diluted with feelings of a sexual nature.

When Grey returned with the guards at sunset Fry had been hanging there for thirteen hours. He paused and looked up at him. The full force of the fading sun was in Fry’s face. His chin had sunk to his chest and his eyes were closed. There was a spasm in his shoulders which jerked at his arms every few seconds causing him to groan and whimper. The sun illuminated his whole body and Grey’s stomach went weak looking at him. His exposed armpits reflected the rays from the sun, the thick hair fanning out and almost touching his cheeks.

There was deep dark stain on the front of his shorts and Grey was surprised to see a large bulge beneath the fabric. Grey smiled and gave an order. The guards released the ropes holding Fry and as his feet touched the ground the cords went slack with Fry collapsing in a heap. He attempted to speak, and Grey bent down in order to hear him. Fry’s whisper came out as a croak. “Fuck you” and even managed a choking laugh. Grey gave an order that he be carried to his cell and be chained there for the night.

Fry spent the night chained to the cot, his hands throbbing. Every small movement he made sent a wave of pain down his arms, creating unbearable agony to his thumbs. He was aware of the guy from the cookhouse who had cared for him the previous nights, coming to him and giving him water and feeding him. He knew too that this guy had washed him all over and dressed him.. What he remembered acutely was the guy massaging his thumbs. Bending them to bring the circulation back and he knew that he had roared with the pain. Falling into a deep coma like sleep he had also been aware of Grey visiting him and stroking his hands, but he was too exhausted to retaliate in any way.

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Enjoy the story? Send DonaldSteve a private message! Or comment below.

Fry serves as Grey’s “visual aid” in a crowded classroom of students receiving training on torture.

Afghan Hell: Part 7 – Torture Class: Painful Manipulations
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: Afghan Hell

Enjoy the story? Send DonaldSteve a private message! Or comment below.

When he awoke in the morning, though his thumbs hurt badly and were still very swollen, he was surprisingly refreshed. The guards came, lead him to the gym where he did a several cardio-vascular exercises and various workouts on his legs. After his usual shower they half carried and half dragged him out on to the compound. He was escorted to one of the larger building and entered a fully equipped lecture room. The rows of seats piled high over a platform allowing the spectators to obtain a close view. There were forty or more men seated along the front rows. Some wore uniform and the majority were quite young being in their twenties or thirties.

Grey introduced him to the room. “Ach. This is the young laddie I have been telling you about. The one who will be our guinea pig. I am fortunate to have somebody expendable. I do not have to answer for him, as you most probably will with your subjects. But this will allow us to demonstrate some methods. We are also lucky enough to have a young man in very good condition. A mesomorph as you can see. I will point out in more detail later how good a specimen of this he is.”

He told the guards to untie him and Fry stood looking warily out at the audience then back to Grey, rubbing his wrists to increase their circulation. Grey turned to him and then returned his gaze back to the students, saying, “The subject will now take off his shirt.” Fry stared defiantly at him. Grey turned threateningly towards him “I said take off your shirt.” Silence. And Grey’s normally calm countenance tuned to anger as he shouted “Now.”

Realising that Fry was not going to defer to him, he gave a nod and two guards seized Fry’s arms. He retaliated by bring his knee up into the groin of one of them who released his grip and doubled over crying out in pain. In the pandemonium that followed four more guards rushed forward to assist and grabbed hold of Fry restraining him until he grew still, his chest heaving with the exertion. While he was still being held Grey grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt, pulled it up his body and dragged it over his head. There was a collective stirring from the audience of students. Only wearing shorts now Fry‘s body looked a lot harder and leaner after his ordeal over the last few days. Though his face looked strained at times his body looked fit and muscular.

All eyes were now riveted on this man, and there was complete silence in the room as the tension mounted. Grey gave a curt order and Fry was dragged to centre stage where a thick sturdy post, topped with a wide crossbar, had been inserted through the platform. It was hinged halfway up and there were straps hanging from the crossbar. His ankles were tied on each side of sturdy uprights mounted to the platform. Then the guards quickly wrapped his arms over the top of the shoulder height crossbar buckling his wrists to each end. With the use of ratchets and levers his arms were pulled outwards until he was drum tight, his body shaped like a crucifix. He gritted his teeth against the strain trying hard to pull back but eventually a gasp escaped his lips as his arms were fixed in position. A guard worked a winch and the post stated to bend in the middle beneath Fry’s back. Very gradually Fry’s torso started to arch back over the hinge. He gritted his teeth against the pain that hit his waist and spine. When Grey thought he was he was bent enough he gave an order and Fry’s position was again locked in place. The pressure on his back was intense and he feared that something would break. He had never been subjected to this position before and he was left gasping with the strain, his eyes tightly shut and his mouth baring gritted teeth. He eventually opened his eyes and looked slightly down along his chest at the audience who were transfixed.

Grey had a long pointed stick in his hand and he used this to demonstrate various parts of Fry’s anatomy. He started his lecture on the differences between ectomorphs, endomorphs and mesomorph. He was explaining that a mesomorph was the ideal body shape. Tall muscular and broad. And he used the pointed stick to indicate the muscles of Fry’s chest and arms. “He doesn’t have the huge bulky stature of the body builder, where every muscle can be easily identified” he squeezed Fry’s left pectoral, “but his muscles are well defined, despite the abundance of all this hair. If you know your anatomy and you study physiotherapy, you can use this knowledge to induce pain on your subject Manipulations of certain muscles can be very effective to get your subject to talk. As long as you know where to touch.” And standing over Fry he laid his left hand on the side of his torso with his middle finger reaching up towards his armpit. Demonstrating to the students, he placed his right hand over on top of his left. He pinched the muscle there and with his other hand pressed down gently, manipulating the flesh and suddenly gave a sharp tap with his fingers. The effect was startling. Fry gasped, arched even further on the post and gave a huge guttural roar of pain. Grey tapped again and he cried out in agony as excruciating cramp like pains hit one side of his torso.

As Grey stepped away Fry was left gasping and choking for breath, unable to take in enough air to help him breathe properly. The silence was broken only by the great gasping chokes that overwhelmed him. His glittering chest rose rapidly as he tried to recover. Grey gave him a full minute then stepped towards him again laying his hand this time on the opposite side of his body. Fry pulled back in his bonds, shaking his head, but Grey continued relentlessly. More kneading and tapping and Fry arched his body outwards with a huge cry. Grey stepped away and watched with the students as the cramp hit Fry’s side. As he slowly recovered, and the choking eased, he groaned, his chest heaving and his stomach fluttering. He wondered how much of this he would be able to take. His back was bent at an unnatural angle arching him backward, his chest and stomach pushed forward.

As he slowly relaxed groaning, Grey moved in on him again pinching up the tight flesh of his lower abdomen and bringing his other hand into play so that together they worked on the tight muscles there. Then his fingers slipped in between the muscles and Fry heaved forward again, breathless. But Grey had not finished with him and lifting the other hand tapped down hard on the back of his other. The pain that exploded through Fry’s stomach was of such intensity that a high keening sound came from the back of his throat. His breathe was expelled with such force that he gagged, his face going a dark purple red. This was followed by a great sucking in of air that expanded his chest to its full limits; his muscles pumped up and highly defined. Thick sinuous veins showing in high relief on his arms and shoulders. He sucked in hugely, shuddering and emitted a loud roaring bellow.

Grey stepped away leaving Fry trembling uncontrollably and shaking his head from side to side. Spit flecked his mouth and chin. As Grey stepped towards him Fry tried again to shrink back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He attempted his half trance state but was unable to get beyond the dreadful pain that Grey was inflicting on him. For the next fifteen minutes he was swamped in agony. Grey moved all over his body. Prodding, manipulating, squeezing and tapping. His chest shoulders, neck and upper arms. When he finished the session on his upper thighs Fry’s whole groin was cramped with great twists of agony. Though his genitals had not been touched, his testicles were on fire and his penis throbbed. His stomach and legs were wet with urine, mixing with the sweat and vomit that slicked his torso. His shorts stained and soaked clung to him like a second skin, moulding themselves around the bulge of his genitals. He hung almost unconscious, his eyes glazed, small whimpers coming from his mouth. Grey stood back and washed his hands in a bowl that stood on the table. “I think gentlemen that this wee man would have spilled the beans by now if we had been seeking information.. It seems unlikely that you would have to go this far to get your prisoner to talk.” He turned to the guards. “Take him away and clean him up.”

Fry was dragged back to his cell. Cared for by the chef, into who’s keeping he had now been trusted, he was fed massaged and showered in readiness for Grey’s visit. As he lay chained to the bed in his T-shirt and shorts Grey burst through the doors and into his cell, hurriedly sitting down on the end of the cot. He was in a good mood and clapped his hands together, rubbing the palms and bunching up his shoulders with glee. “Well laddie that was a very successful session today. You bore up remarkably well, and the students are looking forward o seeing you tomorrow.” Fry looked at him through glazed eyes and gave a faint smile. “I can’t wait Fry. I’m wondering what you are going to do for an encore.”

He grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut “That was bloody painful man. I can’t take anymore of this.”

Grey patted his knee and then said, “Sorry laddie. You have no choice. It will go on day after day if only to satisfy the soldiers here.“ He let his hand rest higher up on top of Fry’s thigh. ”You could make it easier on yourself though.” Fry turned his head to face him and raised his eyebrows. We could easily miss a session whenever you wish.”

Fry queried “How?”

“Weel laddie.” Grey looked slightly bashful and put his hand back on Fry’s leg. This time he gradually slid it up towards his crotch. Fry reacted by bringing his hands down towards Grey’s in an attempt to shake him off, but was pulled up by the short chains. “Fuck off Grey. I know you’re a fuckin’ shirt-lifter so don’t think you are taking me down that road.”

He elbowed Grey’s hand away and Grey stood up. “Well, the offer is there Matt. Just say the word and a lot of this suffering can cease.”

CONTINUE THE STORY:PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Enjoy the story? Send DonaldSteve a private message! Or comment below.

Fry suffers through another painful torture class and realizes that he is hopelessly at the mercy of his captor.

Afghan Hell: Part 8 – Torture Class: Tourniquet
by DonaldSteve
Art by Amalaric
Series: […]

Sins of the Father – Part 1 A hot college-aged jock is abducted and sexually tortured as revenge on his father who is late paying his debts in this new series from […]

Sins of the Father – Parts 2-4 A hot college-aged jock is abducted and sexually tortured as revenge on his father who is late paying his debts in this new series from […]