GayBondageFiction

An unsuspecting young man learns the punishment for trespassing on Steve’s farm.

Taking the Whip – Part 9
by Whiplash235
Series: Taking the Whip
Art by Neil Bruce at Bearoticart.com

One afternoon a few days later while we were all eating and relaxing after a typical hard day’s work, Steve walked into the dining room. Immediately, the atmosphere grew tense, because of the ragged youth trailing behind him. The lad was about my age, as far as I could tell. He was a Zulu boy, lightly skinned with close cropped hair, and the way Steve strode along there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that a whipping was about to take place. Nhlanhla was following behind the youth, and while he wasn’t actually doing anything like prodding him along, it was clear that he was propelling him forward. I thought of something that Jonathan had told me:

“Steve really enjoys whipping people now. I don’t know if that’s my fault, because I seemed to enjoy the beatings he gave me, or if it’s just something in him. I realized that he looked forward to administering punishments when he caught a trespasser one day. We were all chowing one afternoon, and Steve brought a young guy into the dining room. The young guy’s hands were tied in front of him and my brother was pulling him along by the rope that was left over after tying his hands. Steve never said a word; he just dragged the poor youth along, and when he reached a suitable spot, he threw the extra rope over a beam in the ceiling and fastened it so that the lad’s arms were stretched tightly above his head.

“We watched transfixed as Steve took off his own shirt; there was of course the whip he had coiled and fixed to the belt of his trousers. Most of us had stopped eating, and I know my mouth was wide open while he ripped the shirt off the hapless youth, who was half-heartedly struggling as Steve stripped him until he was completely bare from the waist up. I think that he knew what was about to happen, though he might not have believed it was actually happening. He hung there helplessly, his hands stretched straight above him, his bare feet barely touching the ground – a good looking youth with a muscular brown body. He looked straight ahead without catching anyone’s eye.

“Then Steve spoke. ‘This guy has been sleeping in our fields,’ he said. ‘He’s going to be punished for that, and if he wants to stay with us after his punishment, that’s up to him.’
“It was a heavy beating my brother administered that day, at least fifteen lashes, though I must admit that I lost count after the first ten. The lad hardly murmured until the eighth or the ninth stroke, and then he started to cry out as the whip continued cutting across his bare back. He started struggling vainly, trying to pull at the rope that held him tightly, and I saw the terror in his eyes as he looked behind after each cruel blow to see Steve drawing his arm back and measuring where the lash was going to strike next. For the last few strokes he kept saying, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again…’ but Steve wasn’t satisfied until his victim was well and truly whipped.”

I remembered all this as I watched the trio stop for a moment, and then Steve called me over.
“Go with Nhlanhla,” he said to me with a grin. “This newcomer needs a lesson about trespassing. Take him into the barn and sort him out.” It was impossible to say no, but the worst thing was that I didn’t want to refuse.

Nhlanhla and I said nothing to each other as we each took an arm and led the young lad out of the dining room and into the yard. As we approached the barn the youth started to babble nervously.

“Hey, I didn’t know I was trespassing…what did he mean? ‘Sort me out’…just let me go, guys; I’ll run so fast no one will catch me and you’ll never see me again…”

Nhlanhla and I kept our silence and held him more tightly. My arm was pushed against the side of his body and I could feel his heart beating rapidly through his ribs. He was thin and wiry, but quite muscular for all that, and I could not ignore the fact that I was looking forward to stripping him. I imagined a smooth brown body, probably quite similar to Jabulani; I felt a horribly familiar stirring in my groin at the thought of ripping the shirt off his body and watching him squirm helplessly when he realized that he was going to feel the cruel caress of the whip. At the same time I was shocked that I could be thinking and feeling such things. It was only a few weeks previously that I had been dragged into the same barn, stripped to the waist and spread-eagled out for my first taste of Steve’s lash. Had I changed so much that I was now excited to inflict the same experience on someone else? What if this youth responded exactly the same as I had?

The youth was still babbling when we got inside the barn, but Nhlanhla silenced him with a simple question:

“What’s your name?” he asked in a kindly voice.

“Thobani,” was the stuttered reply.

“Well, look, Thobani…we’re not going to kill you, so calm down. The boss has told us to punish you a bit, and then you can go or stay, according to whatever you want.”

I felt Thobani shuddering; he tried to take in what Nhlanhla was saying. “Punish me…?”

Nhlanhla was almost cheerful as we propelled the lad to the wooden beam with the metal rings. “We have to punish you, since you’ve done something wrong, and when it’s over, you’ve paid your dues, and you can even stay on, if you like.”

Unfortunately for Thobani, he was concentrating too much on Nhlanhla, and he didn’t realize that I let him go for a moment so that I could pick up a piece of rope from the table, and by the time I was tying his left wrist to one of the metal rings, it was too late. Once I had him secure, Nhlanhla drew his right wrist to the other metal ring and I handed him another piece of rope. I watched a resigned look pass across Thobani’s face when he saw that he was well and truly caught, and then a different look as Nhlanhla took off his shirt, revealing the dark lean muscular body that I knew so well.

After a moment, he said, “You’re going to use a whip on me, aren’t you?”

Nhlanhla smiled in response and nodded to me that I should strip as well. I took off my shirt quite slowly, enjoying the way Thobani gazed at me while I divested. His eyes widened at the obvious weals across my chest and stomach; in case there was any doubt, I deliberately turned to put my shirt on the table so that he could see the numerous stripes across my back.

“I think you know what we are going to do to you. Now, we need to tie your ankles to those pegs in the floor,” said Nhlanhla, “and you’re not going to do anything silly like try to kick us or anything, are you?”

When I turned back, I could see Thobani shaking his head mutely. He may have been promising not to struggle, but from the look on his face he was probably trying to get to grips in his mind with what he could see was about to happen. Had I looked as confused and bemused when on the day that they had pulled the shirt off me and fastened my wrists and ankles to the restraints?
“Just as well,” continued Nhlanhla, “because right now, you’re on ten lashes, but any silly attempts to put up a fight would double that to twenty. Ten is…quite tough but twenty on your first go is something you’d rather not experience. Isn’t that right?”

This last comment was to me, and I grinned, a little stupidly, I think. I said nothing because I was in a hurry to finish restraining this youth and get to the part where we stripped him. This was so much a repeat of my own first experience and the excitement in me was mounting rapidly. I took another two pieces of rope from the table, passed one to Nhlanhla, and we both bent down to tie his bare feet to the pegs in the floor. When I stood back up, I was definitely ready to strip our young victim of every stitch of clothing until he was completely naked and utterly at our mercy, but Nhlanhla wanted to spin the moment out a bit longer. I was still a little appalled at my reactions – what was this place turning me into? I wondered if Steve somehow knew that I would feel like this…

“You’re right of course, but how do you know we’re going to use a whip?”

Thobani said nothing for a moment. Nhlanhla went up to him. He gripped the lad’s shirt at the neck and ripped it open all the way down to the waist of his trousers in one fierce movement. “I asked you a question,” he said roughly, “and I can promise you that any lack of cooperation will certainly earn you extra lashes.”

I watched as Thobani took a couple of deep breaths, clearly surprised at the sudden ferocity. His bare chest and stomach was pretty much as I had imagined: smooth and lithe, not especially muscular but rugged in a wiry sort of way, quite like Jabulani. I was also impressed at Nhlanhla. I couldn’t decide if he was playing a part or allowing his violent side a bit of fun; this was the same person who played with me enthusiastically if we were both naked together – and wielded a whip with no sign of mercy if that was what Steve commanded him to do.

Thobani tried to reply between breaths: “I saw you and some other guy – not this one, I think – whipping someone who was tied up at that funny gate of yours. It was about two or three weeks back and I was hiding in the trees at the time. He was stripped to the waist, the one you were whipping, and I could hear the crack of the whip across his back. Then that guy you call your boss ripped his trousers off, and you carried on whipping him for a bit longer.

“At first I thought it was a terrible punishment, and I ran away as soon as I could, but I couldn’t get it out of my head…I mean, the three of you, shirtless or just wearing shorts…you looked so good, even from far away…and the guy who was being whipped…he seemed sort of…fearful but excited…

Thobani trailed off, and I saw him testing the way his wrists were tied to the metal rings. Nhlanhla’s face was impassive, giving nothing away, but I was in turmoil. Did I hear this kid right? Was he saying that Jabulani’s whipping – he had to be talking about that afternoon – had such an effect on him that he was drawn back to the same farm where he had inadvertently witnessed the ‘terrible punishment’?

Nhlanhla nodded to me. “Your turn now,” he said, “strip him – just his shirt for the time being.”

The young lad stretched and steadied himself, preparing for – what he was asking for? I stepped up to him, pulled his shirt out of his trousers and pushed it over his shoulders so that his chest and stomach were completely exposed, deliberately stroking his smooth torso as I did so. He was still taking deep breaths and I might have detected a sigh as I laid him bare at the front. Then I went behind him and moved his shirt up his back, playfully stroking his brown body as I drew it up to his neck and then over his head. I felt him shudder repeatedly when I caressed his sides and ran my hands up and down his back. His shirt was hanging over his head like a hood, and when I glanced at Nhlanhla he grinned, indicating that I should leave it like that; I tightened it here and there for good measure; by the time I had finished, he was bare from the waist up, skin exposed for the lash, and his head was hooded so that he could not see whatever we were going to do to him. His blindness made him struggle against the restraints.

“I want to see what you are going to do to me.” His plea was muffled by the fabric over his head.

Nhlanhla meanwhile was coming back from rummaging in a cupboard, carrying two very familiar whips. I felt a horrible thrill of anticipation; it was obvious that Nhlanhla intended that I should participate fully in this punishment, and as I glanced at Thobani, who was starting to pull at the ropes that restrained him, the thought of refusing just didn’t enter my mind. Instead, my member was thickening as I imagined taking the whip and standing behind this helpless victim.

Thobani was jerking his head this way and that, trying to work out where we were, and pleading. “Look, you’ve got me,” he said, “there’s nothing I can do, so I’ll have to take it as best I can, but please, uncover my head…I want to see what you’re doing.”

Nhlanhla was smiling wickedly. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, “I’ll tell you exactly what we are doing and you’ll feel it just now, anyway. We have two whips here. Each of them has a wooden handle and a nice thick leather thong of about two meters, tapering off to a point at the end. These whips are specially designed to cut skin and we are going to administer fifteen lashes – you were too slow answering my question. I’m going to work on the front of your body and I’ll deliver seven strokes, while Jonathan’s friend gives your back some good instruction.

“The first couple might be a bit of a shock, so it’s OK if you cry out at first – some people have even been known to piss themselves. But you’d better take your punishment like a man: it’s tough, I know; I mean, these whips are going to cut you repeatedly, and no matter how much you twist and writhe, there’s no escape from the lash. All the same, too much crying and blubbering and you’ll get another ten or so…and by the way, farm rules say you have to be naked if you deserve an extra ten lashes.”

Thobani started to squirm and pull uselessly at the ropes that held him fast, and I heard him groan when Nhlanhla spoke about stripping him completely. My own reaction was appalling and exciting at the same time: the idea of whipping this virile youth into submission was producing reactions I wouldn’t have believed were I not experiencing them; my enthusiastic member was starting to push against my shorts and trousers, spurred on by the image of Thobani’s smooth brown body writhing, helplessly spread-eagled between the restraints while Nhlanhla and I applied the whip. I wanted to see his lithe form arching against the lash.

“Please, let me see what’s going on.”

I glanced at Nhlanhla, who nodded, so I went up to our victim. I enjoyed the way he started violently when I ran my hands up and down the sides of his bare body; I stroked his stomach with one hand, and I undid the shirt that I had wrapped around his head. It took a few moments to tear his shirt away, and then I caressed his muscular stomach while he breathed more freely. I felt the sudden tension in his body as he surveyed the two whips coiled almost innocently on the table in front of him. Thobani was getting a good look at the whips that we were about to use and I could feel him trembling as he imagined them slashing across his bare torso. I slipped my hand down the front of his ragged trousers and two things were immediately clear: he was not wearing any shorts, and no matter what his body might be saying, his member was very erect and immediately responded strongly to my gentle caress.

“You’re excited about a whipping, aren’t you?” I whispered into his ear, using my other hand to pull his body against my chest. I was also excited, of course, and I was sure he could feel my own erection pushing against the seat of his trousers.

“I saw what you did to that other guy,” he said, between deep breaths that pushed him against me. “When you stripped him bare in front of the barn, his member was sticking out in front of him, and then your boss started whipping him. It was a cruel beating and I couldn’t believe that he stayed so erect despite the way the lash brought him to his knees…I don’t want to be naked,” he added quickly, “but I do want to see what it’s like getting a punishment like that.”

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Ajax is forced to work in the fields like a horse then learns there may be other “duties” expected of him.

Antebellum – Chapter 5: In the Fields
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
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The night overseer’s boy unlocked my collar chain and I was told to jump in the cold water bath with the others. We were divided into groups and I found myself with big Nero and Job. A boy of about 15 came up; he was called Toby and was to drive us today. One at a time he removed our collars and replaced them with padded collars like small horse collars. When they were locked on they could not be removed and they had various rings hanging from them. We tied loincloths on our naked bodies and received a talk from the overseer. ‘This is Toby, or Boss Toby to you niggers. He will drive you today. He is equipped with a whip and a cane and he knows how to use them if any of you get uppity. Also any problems he has will be reported to me and dealt with accordingly. Now get out and work hard.’ ‘Yes boss,’ we chorused. Toby rode a horse and we followed for just over a mile until we came to what had been a separate farm. There was a field which was lightly covered with weeds. The soil was dry and dusty. Toby said, ‘The Master wants this field ploughed over. The soil is light so he has ordered me to use you niggers instead of wasting a couple of horses.’

We found the plough and placed it in position. He lined us up in front of the plough and attached two straps to rings at the bottom front of our collars, threaded them between our arms and flanks and attached them to three rings on the plough. He told us to grip the straps and pull with both our shoulders and arms. He untied and removed our loincloths so we were naked and hung them over a fence post. He sat on the seat and called out, ‘Walk on, boys.’ We took up the strain and heaved the plough into motion. Despite the soil being dusty it was hard work and we were soon sweating. Every so often Toby cracked the whip above our heads but seemed to be careful not to actually hit us. We dragged on and each haul across the field resulted in two furrows. By late morning, about 10 o’clock, we had done about a third of the field. Coming from the direction of the mansion we saw the Master with his cousin Alex and nephew Georgie riding towards us.

‘Boss Toby, sah.’ Job said. ‘May we cover ourselves with our loincloths, please sah?’ His request mirrored my own wishes. ‘Quiet nigger!’ Toby snapped and accompanied his reply with a lash from the whip across Job’s back making him cry out. The Master whistled for us to be stopped at the end of the furrow. I saw them dismount and hitch their horses to the gate post. We were pulled up facing them. They stepped forward and Georgie said ‘Is that the slave you caned for spilling the food last night Uncle Thomas? His buttocks are looking well coloured.’ ‘Yes it is. And I hope it has taught him a lesson, now I see him stripped down I can see he needs harder work to get back into his earlier condition. He was quite a well-muscled buck at one time. Of course he was never quite as good as Nero or Ajax here.’

‘O sure, Uncle Thomas, Ajax was the slave who was helping to serve. I said he would look great stripped down and he does.’ The boy stepped to me and felt my upper arms. As I was chained I could not flex it, or even move it much. Not that I wanted to be felt over by a mere boy. ‘Toby, unharness Ajax and remove his collar.’ ‘Yes Mr. Richards, sir.’ Toby said as he freed me from the restraints. I stretched when they were removed.

‘Flex you arms, Ajax.’ ‘Yes, massa.’ I aid, pulling on my arms. Without a word the boy reached up and felt my expanded biceps and then my shoulder and chest. He examined my brand marks and said, ‘What do you know of his origins?’ ‘Pretty sure he is mostly Mandingo stock given his size and colouring. There’s human blood a few generations back. Guess his grand-dam’s master let a friend enjoy her charms. Happens all the time to a pretty wench in these parts.’ Georgie felt my upper thigh and then my calf muscles, ‘Sure as hell one big, strong slave, must be worth something.’ ‘Well I am not telling you what I paid for him here but it was worth the investment. He has many years of work and breeding ahead of him,’ the Master said, ‘Toby, put him back to the plough.’

The Master went back and looked over Job. He pinched a handful of less than firm flesh at the slave’s waist and said, ‘You really are getting out of condition, nigger.’ ‘Yes massa, sorry massa I’ll work harder, massa.’ They went on their way as the vittels wagon came up. We ate and finished the field that afternoon.

We were taken back to the barracoon. Nero and I were allowed a thorough wash and an early meal. While we were eating a racket came from the yard near Boss Raikes’ room. Job was struggling, still in his loincloth, as a steel collar was being locked on him. As a trusted slave he didn’t usually wear restraints like me. Then manacles and shackles were put on him and he was chained by the collar to the back of a wagon. ‘Take him to the quarry, Master’s orders, a term down there will get him back in shape.’ ‘Yes Mr. Raikes, the boy driver said, geeing the horses. Next Raikes sent for Nero and spoke to him for a few minutes. When he came back Nero said, ‘Massa wants us to serve him his dinner tonight, Herbert and Henry, his two houseboys will show us. After the meal the Massa may keep you behind for some special services.’ I was puzzled, ‘What kind of special services?’ Nero cleared his throat, looked around to make sure nobody could overhear and said, ‘Well, as you know, most masters like to take their pleasure with a bedwench or a pretty housemaid. Others prefer a handsome young slaveboy for their amusement. Master has shown an interest in you.’ ‘Shit, no! I can’t do that, Nero, it’s wrong. It’s against my nature.’ ‘Don’t think I don’t know what goes on between niggers in the barracoon when they ain’t been bred for a while, Ajax.’ ‘Yes, but that’s between niggers, not humans.’ You do what the Master says, boy. I saw a slave after he disobeyed once. Face beaten to a pulp, flogged and bruised and his jaw broken. He starved to death because he could not eat. Remember that nigger, even your life is too valuable to throw away like that.’ I contemplated the coming evening with mixed fears.

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Ajax begins to learn his new role on the plantation and quickly sees the disparity between master and slaves.

Antebellum – Chapter 4: In the House
by Drum
Art by Amalaric
Series: Antebellum
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I was taken to the general slave barracoon, a large stone and wooden barn fitted out with partitions for each slave. At one end of the building was a concrete-lined trough about six feet square and filled with water. I was ordered to bathe in it. It was cold but felt good to get the sweat and dust from my skin. I dried off with rags and went to the long table where about 20 other slaves sat and ate biscuit and stew. There was plenty and a negro on my right said, ‘They say it is made from instructions by Dr Sullivan. Full of stuff that builds muscle and keeps a slave healthy and strong.’ ‘Don’t taste too bad, either,’ I said. ‘My name’s Ajax, what’s yours?’ ‘Nero, massa named me Nero, don’t know why but he said it was because I am blacker than any other nigger here. I don’t understand how he came up with the name Nero.’

After the meal the slaves we all allowed a short period of recreation before being locked by their collars to the walls of their stalls. I was the exception and was taken to the basement of the house. I was in awe as I taken to a room where my shackles, manacles and collar were removed. The overseer said to a nigger aged about 30 in full black and white finery, ‘Job, you are to train up this nigger to serve at table. Show him how to dress, his finery is in the parcel.’ We unwrapped the clothes bought in New Orleans and I put on the shorts and socks. Job helped me with the shirt and pants and then showed me how to tie a cravat and lace shoes. It was very complicated and I wondered if I would ever learn to do it. The shoes felt very strange on my feet. I then put the coat on. ‘You just stand next to the buffet and watch me tonight, nigger. Maybe I’ll find something for you to do. Now follow me.’ ‘Yes Job,’ I answered. ‘Mr. Job” to you nigger, I am senior butler here.’ ‘Sorry, yes Mr. Job,’ I replied, barely concealing my contempt for the slave’s conceit.

We went up the backstairs to the dining room and went in. I had never been in a house before and this place looked fantastic with it rich furnishing and silver on the white table cloth. There were vases of flowers and a fire crackled in the hearth. We could here voices from the next room. ‘Massa has friends over for the weekend, his cousin Alex and his son George. They are from the north. You obey them and do as you are told same as if they were your massa.’ I was nervous as Job positioned me next to the buffet. Wenches brought in chafing dishes from the kitchen and placed them over spirit burners. Already at the three places on the table cold food was sitting on plates. Job went and opened the double door between the dining room and the salon, coughed quietly, bowed and said ‘Dinner is served, massa’. The Master and his family walked in. Job pulled back the Master’s chair for him and I did the same for the Master’s brother. Job served white wine to the guests and they ate their hors d’oevres with relish. Job cleared their plates and passed them through a hatch to the kitchen. Then he took the meat plate and served them slices of beef. Then roast potatoes. I was drooling at the smell of this fine food and wondered if we had a chance later to sample it. I handed Job a dish of peas and then he poured sauce onto the plates. We stood back and I could watch out of the corner of my eye.

Their conversation was largely about the price of tobacco and cotton, then it turned to slaves and the Master mentioned he had made a purchase the previous day and pointed to me. George, who was about 15 or 16, said, ‘Holy cow! Uncle Tom, he’s huge. Thick neck, trim waist and broad shoulders. Remember, you told me how to estimate a nigger even when he was fully clothed. I can’t wait to see him stripped down.’ The Master called for seconds and Job served them all again. I watched and saw how frightened Job was when he spilt some of the brown sauce on the white cloth‘You clumsy oaf, nigger! Ajax, fetch my crop from the hallstand.’ ‘Yes, massa.’ I said striding to the door. I found the crop and returned to the dining room where Job stood minus his coat. ‘You have to punish niggers directly they have offended, otherwise, not being too bright, they are likely to forget why they are being punished. Drop your pants and shorts and bend over the chair, Job.’ ‘Yes massa, sorry massa. Please massa, mercy,’ he pleaded. ‘Hold his shirt tails out of the way, Ajax.’ ‘Yes, massa.’ I lifted the cloth to bare Job’s buttocks and saw him tremble as the Master swung the crop across his naked backside with full force a dozen times. As each blow landed his body jolted. When the punishment was ended he was forced to stand in front of the guests with his pants round his ankles while the Master said, ‘Why did I beat your ass, nigger?’ ‘Because I was clumsy and spilt the sauce, massa.’ ‘I hope I will not have to do it again, nigger, because if I do I will have serious doubts about your position in the house and may have to send you out to the fields or the quarry to toughen you up. You getting too many pansy ways from some of the other house slaves.’ ‘Please massa, I am sorry, massa, please don’t send me to the quarry, massa.’ ‘You just watch yourself, slave, now what do you say after you have been punished?’ ‘Thank you, massa, I deserved to be beaten, massa.’ Job’s eyes were wet as he continued to work and we were, eventually, dismissed and told to change out of the finery and get back to the barracoon. As we went across to our quarters I said, ‘Sorry about the punishment, Job, you took it well though.’ He shoved me away and shook his head. I heard a single sob and saw his shoulders shake.

The barracoon was quiet except for the sighs, snores and heavy breathing of the slaves in the warm, fetid air. The night overseer locked my collar and manacles on and bedded me down. I slept deeply with sheer exhaustion and it seemed like no time had passed when the five o’clock bell sounded.

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An excerpt from Todd Fleming’s latest super hero story now available on Amazon.

Excerpt from “Puma and The Eagle”
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Download the full ebook on Amazon

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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.

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