Small Town's Dark Secret (M+/M+) FINISHED

[CaptiveDan]

The Cop and the Unlucky Driver

“License and Registration please”

The unlucky driver obeyed the cop.

“What's the problem officer?” the driver asked, genuinely confused. He’d been going the speed limit, his plates were up to date. He was a very conscientious driver. What had he done wrong?

“Your car matches the description of a vehicle suspected of bringing drugs from Minnesota to sell in Iowa.” The cop replied, with a seriousness in his tone suggesting he didn't believe the driver’s ‘goody-two-shoes act’.

Except it wasn't an act. The driver legitimately was a law abiding citizen. He'd J-walked twice in his life - and felt bad both times. Besides that he couldn't have been more straight-edge.

“I'm going to need you to step out of the car.”

The unlucky driver obeyed the cop.

Once he was out of the car, the cop ordered him to stand with his hands behind his head while he did an inspection.

The unlucky driver obeyed the imposter cop. Though it became surprisingly difficult to do during the cop’s lengthy search. The driver’s arms started to get tired. He wanted to stretch and adjust them but was worried the cop would take it as disobedience.

“What's this?” The cop asked. He held up the bag of weed, insinuating he’d found it in the unlucky driver’s car.

The driver was in shock. He'd never used, let alone bought and carried, any drugs - including legal ones like alcohol and cigarettes.

“What!? I never- that's not mine- I don't know how it got there!”

The officer ignored his shocked tone and insistence of innocence.

“Remove your clothes”

“What?”

“I need to do a strip search, then I'm taking you in. Remove your clothes”

“Out here? Why not at the sta-”

The officer cut him off by tazing the driver. The driver yelled in pain.

“Strip”

This time, the unlucky driver obeyed the cop.

In the middle of the day, out in the open, the driver stripped naked. He nervously looked around the intersection. Across the street was a gas station, an older woman stared at him and shook her head as she filled her tank. On the other side of the road was a burger king, a group of college-aged friends stared at the window. He saw them pointing and laughing.

The cop took the man's clothes, then patted him down. The cop put the driver's clothes in the car, and returned with the restraints he planned on using.

“Hands in front of you” the cop ordered.

“I told you, the drugs weren't-”

The cop tazed him again.

“Hands in front of you” the cop ordered.

The unlucky driver obeyed the cop.

Rather than simply handcuffing him, the cop locked the driver in a more elaborate - more constructive set of restraints. A set of thick handcuffs and ankle cuffs, connected by a chain that also attached to a collar.

The driver was confused and afraid. He'd never seen a suspect locked in something like this. The collar in particular worried him. But he didn't know anything about Iowa’s police system, let alone whatever fucked up practices this town might have.

So he let himself get locked in the cuffs. The cop led the chained, naked man into the back seat of his cop car.

The cop drove for miles through the rural outskirts of town, making sure to take a complex, winding path to disorient his prisoner.

Then he turned down a dirt road that led through a tall cornfield.

The inmate looked around nervously. He saw no signs of a police station. The cop parked the car in a tiny clearing. He stepped outside, and walked over to a trapdoor on the ground he'd kept chained shut. He unlocked the trapdoor and opened it up. The inmate saw stairs leading down into a dark, underground, concrete storm shelter.

It was only at this moment the inmate realized the “cop” might not actually be a cop at all.

His eyes went wide with terror. He'd let himself get chained up and led into the middle of nowhere. The inmate started sweating, looking around for an escape. He saw his clothes in the front seat. Hiis phone was still in his jeans pocket, but the front of the car was blocked from the back so he couldn't get to his stuff. He tried to open the back of the cop car, but it was locked.

When the imposter cop returned and opened the back door of the car, the inmate tried to make a run for it.

The chain connecting his legs together was so short he could only hobble. He hobbled toward the cornfield.

The cop, amused at his inmate’s escape attempt, simply walked behind him, easily keeping pace. After letting the inmate get about 20ft from the car, the cop grabbed the inmate's chain, stopping him in his tracks.

He tazed him again. The inmate screamed. He looked at his captor with terror.

“I figure you've realized you're not actually being arrested.”

The inmate began pleading with the cop and shouting for help. The cop tazed him again. That shut him up.

“Get in the cellar.”

He’d missed every chance he had to stop the downward spiral into captivity. He'd been slowly boiled like a frog.

Because he now had no other choice, the unlucky inmate obeyed the imposter cop.

He walked down the stairs into the dark cellar. The cop turned on a light.

The underground room was split in two. One side had been turned into a modified replica jail cell complete with steel bars, a toilet, and a locking door. It lacked bunks and instead had various attachment points for bondage. The other side was a sort of makeshift bedroom.

The inmate began to shake. What was this man going to do to him? How long would he be down here?

The cop led the inmate into the jail cell. In the center of the floor a metal loop had been driven into the concrete. The cop used a long chain to lock the inmate’s collar to the ground. The inmate had enough length to walk around the cell and use the bathroom, but wouldn't be able to leave the cell even when the door was open.


Image from alphaslavesandtoyboy’s Tumblr.

The cop then left the cell, closed the door, and shut the basement hatch.

The cop grabbed the inmate's phone and went and laid down on his bed, a comfortable cot on the ‘free’ side of the cellar. He tried to open the phone but found a password. He'd get that password from the inmate soon, but for now he thought it would be best if they both just rested a bit - give the inmate a chance to get settled in.

The inmate paced around the cell, finding just how far the chain connecting him to the floor would go. He looked for any sign of weakness in his restraints, but found none. His movement wasn't fully impaired, just hindered, as he could still move his hands and feet as far as the chains allowed. But even with that range of movement it was till clear he was trapped. The steel restraints were secure and inflexible, the jail door was locked shut.

He was terrified, but didn't dare speak or shout. At this point his only hope was to keep his captor happy and hope he had mercy on him.

After an hour, the imposter cop spoke.

“I'm happy to announce that you are not being arrested” he said, “I am no cop, this is not an official prison, and none of this will go on your record.”

That was not comforting to the inmate.

“Unfortunately,” he continued, “I will be keeping you here for the next 10 days. After which you will be released. I will not kill you - I'm not some lunatic.”

Slightly reassuring, though somewhat hard for the inmate to believe, naked and locked in his home-made subterranean jail cell.

The imposter cop continued, “I can't promise you'll be comfortable, and I can't promise I won't hurt you. What I can promise is that you will have a much better time here if you are complicit and cooperative.”

“Which brings me to this,” the cop held up the inmate's phone, “I need your password. You can either tell me, or I can torture it out of you.”

The inmate’s pulse jumped again. His eyes started around the room, noticing now all the many things that could become instruments of torture. He thought about where he was, how underground, this far from anyone, he could scream as loud as he could and no one would find him.

So he gave the cop his password.

The cop smiled. He tested it and found it was right.

The cop was relieved, he took no pleasure in torturing his inmates. The past two years he'd gotten lucky, his inmates had a face scan to unlock their phone.

But three years ago the cop had imprisoned someone that refused to give his password. He'd had to do something he wasn't proud of.

He brought the defiant man into his personal shower, locked his fists in mitts, and then padlocked those to either wall he'd covered his head in a full latex mask.



Image from Restrained4u2use

Then he tortured him. Starting with blasts of cold water to the man's back. Despite shivering and trying to pull away, the man refused to talk. The cop had tried scalding hot water instead. The man screamed and cursed the cop, and eventually said he'd tell him the code.

He gave a fake code.

So the cop tried something else, he squeezed and then beat the poor man's balls until he promised the code. The inmate once again gave a fake.

So the cop put clamps on the man's nipples, a humbler around his balls, and started adding weight. With every added gram of pressure the man fought against his bonds. He struggled to hold out as much as he could. The cop was impressed. Even more so when the man once again gave a fake code.

The cop kept the weight on the man's nipples and balls. The man was breathing heavily. The cop closed the nose holes on his mask - the only place the inmate could breathe through. He cut off his air until the man was fully in panic, thrashing in his bonds, desperate for air. The cop let him breathe, then closed the holes again.

“The next wrong password locks me out of your phone for an hour,” he said. Giving the inmate another minute to breath before cutting his air off again, “can you last a whole hour without reprieve?”

The inmate shook his head no. The cop removed his mask. The inmate told him his password.

The cop was happy this year’s inmate had avoided all of that. He typed in the code and began searching his phone.

The cop found the inmate was 25, a few years out of college, with a promising tech job. He was well connected with friends and family, though his boyfriend had recently broken up with him.

The cop couldn't help but feel bad for the inmate. Here was a happy, successful young man, who seemed to be nice enough. With no other information the cop decided his ex must have been in the wrong.

The breakup did provide a good tool for the cop to explain the inmate’s appearance.

The cop logged into the inmate’s work email and used 10 of the inmate's PTO days and explained he was going on a vacation. He then told all his friends about how he was getting out of town to “clear his head”. His friends and family were all very excited for him.

But instead of sunny beaches and drinks by the pool - pictures the cop was easily able to Photoshop and post - the inmate spent the next week and a half chained up in a jail cell.

Every two days the cop let him shower. At night he gave him a blanket and pillow to make the floor a bit more comfortable. During the day, the cop provided the inmate books to read.

He did have to be strict on the inmate twice, however.

One morning the cop woke up and saw the inmate masturbating. The cop informed him that was not permitted. He sentenced the inmate to 3 hours of restrictive bondage. The inmate could do nothing as the cop shortened the chain lengths until the inmate was forced to sit, bent over. He then connected him to a bolt in the wall, so the inmate would be forced to sit in the same spot. Last he threw a burlap hood over his face and locked a metal cock cage on the inmate.


Image from Gearsfo tumblr

It had been both uncomfortable and painfully boring. The darkness and lack of anything to do made the three hours feel like days. The cold floor and forced bend made the inmate sore and miserable.

After three hours the cop gave his chains more slack and removed the cage.

The cop thought he had made his point, but a few nights later the inmate had tried to secretly jerk off again. The cop woke up in time, stopped him, and forced him into the constructive bondage until the coming noon. After that, the cage didn't come off until after the ritual.

That was life for a week and a half. The two could always see each other, but rarely interacted. For the presentation night, the cop had gotten permission from the mayor to -rather than bring his prey to the barn- show a live video of his tribute in the jail cell. A few of other hunters had texted him that night, complimenting him and asking if they could get a chance to use his cell once his captive was done in it.

At one point during his imprisonment the inmate asked why the cop was doing this. The cop said he'd tell him after the ritual was over, but until then he was forbidden from asking anything about why he was here or what was going to happen at the ritual

That wasn't a very reassuring answer, but the inmate couldn't do anything about it, and he feared what the cop might do if he broke that rule.

So for the rest of his captivity, the unlucky inmate obeyed the imposter cop.

[blackbound]

That driver, in all his bad luck, was still kind of lucky it's "only" 10 days. The gimp's been stuck for months!

[CaptiveDan]

That driver, in all his bad luck, was still kind of lucky it's "only" 10 days. The gimp's been stuck for months!

Months of continual bondage? Id say the Gimp is the luckiest of all! Though I guess from his attempts to protest and beg maybe he doesn't feel the same way.

Three more hunters to go: 2 relatively happy/lucky ones, and one not so fortunate participant

[CaptiveDan]

A Woman of Science

Why go through all the trouble? Why not simply pick someone with a reputation for ‘performing’ like the Trucker did? Why not pick a reliable and proven tribute like the husbands did? Why not pick some random person and prime him for the ritual like most of the others?

Why go through the process of binding and testing multiple men until she found the perfect subject?

Because she was a woman of science.

That's why the scientist currently had 6 men stripped naked, blindfolded, with their arms tied above their head to poles on the ceiling.

For science.


Image from Lari821 tumblr

Attached by harness to each man’s pelvis was a device that would both gather data on her subjects’ arousal level and simultaneously edge them. It was a device that had been developed by some grad students she was almost certain must have tested it themselves.

She split her attention between watching her computer and watching the men. It had been 45 minutes now. The men were starting to get frustrated. One was trying to move his body and fuck the machine, but had no success as the machine simply turned off all stimulation until he settled down. Another was moaning and quietly begging, which made two of the other men chuckle.

The scientist typed on the computer, it was time for the next part.

Immediately the men all felt their machines speed up. Even the ones who'd tried to keep their cool for the whole experiment fell victim to involuntary grunts and moans. The machines brought them all over the edge.

As they were falling down from their orgasmic high, the machines slowed, but did not stop. Quickly some men got uncomfortable, tugging at their ropes, wiggling around. The scientist turned off the devices for those men. Two men, however, started to get hard again. The scientist watched eagerly as the machine measured their physiological response and began edging them again.

By the time the last 15 minutes of the allotted hour were up, one of them had almost cum again.

The scientist removed their devices, untied the men, and led them blindfolded one by one to a private room where they could get dressed before debriefing.

All of them had volunteered for this. She’d posted an ad for a research study on sexual arousal at a local college, and then at the suggestion of one of her grad students, also made a tinder profile for herself advertising the study. 4 of the signups had come from the study, 2 from swiping right.

She'd informed the subjects that they'd be lightly restrained and stimulated. Each would be blindfolded as to protect their’s and the other subjects’ anonymity. They would orgasm before the study was over. The study would last one hour.

A few men questioned why they had to be tied up. The scientist informed them that for the experiment’s integrity they couldn't know the answer to that.

Every year she was surprised that once again multiple men enthusiastically agreed to be tied up and jacked off by a stranger in a lab coat. Men truly had no sense of danger.

One by one she debriefed the men, who all felt satisfied with the study and had no concerns. She gave four of them the promised $50 dollars and sent them on their way.

But two were selected to go to round two.

She’d picked the two men that had been ready for a second round. One said yes to a follow up, while the other said no. Disappointing, but not a problem. She went back through the data and found that of the men who had only been able to do one round, one stuck out as having the strongest orgasm. She invited him back. He said yes.

And so, round two consisted of the following:
The Rebounder
The One-Timer

She had different methods for each. For the Rebounder, her plan was to elicit as many orgasms as possible in one hour. For the One-Timer, her plan was to build to one singular, powerful orgasm.

The dependent variable was the same.

For this round, the two men were tied at different times. The Rebounder was first, he came in at 10am.

The scientist informed the Rebounder that in this version of the experiment he would likely achieve orgasm multiple times. There may be discomfort between instances, and he was permitted to end the experiment early, however doing so would result in no payment.

The rebounder stopped listening after “orgasm multiple times”.

For this round of the experiment, the scientist had borrowed a sling from one of the other townspeople. She had the subject strip naked then lay in the sling. She cuffed his hands and feet to corners of the sling, putting him spread-eagle, with his dick and ass fully exposed for experimentation.

Image from bondagelover2017 Tumblr.

The scientist slid a butt plug into the subject's ass. She saw his legs tense up. He wasn't used to something like this. That was good, the novelty of the experience might add to his response.

Then the scientist attached the device to his dick. She started up the program.

This time, the subject’s experience would be a little different. Rather than a long time of edging resulting in one powerful orgasm, the scientist set the device to bring him to the edge, give him a ruined orgasm, and then begin again. Her plan was to maximize the fact that he could recharge fast. Her goal was 4 orgasms before the hour was up.

10 minutes in, the subject has had his first ruined orgasm. The scientist recorded the machine’s readings as the subject thrashed around, for a few seconds equally overstimulated and under satisfied. He pushed through the discomfort until a few minutes later, he got hard again and began to build up to another.

15 minutes later, he came again, once again a ruined orgasm. It was a weird feeling. The machine brought him right the the edge, then gently pushed him. He fell down the hill himself, nutting with no stimulation in the final critical second. His cock shot a load, he felt a sort of half-drop from the edge, but he didn't get that feeling of overwhelming satisfaction.

Another few minutes of discomfort, and then he was hard again.

Another one. After this one he screamed. He wasn't happy he'd screamed, but he couldn't help it. The scientist asked if he needed the experiment to stop. The subject took a deep breath.

“The next one will be real” the scientist promised.

The subject consented to continue.

The last one, drawn out of him at 3 minutes before the end of the hour, was worth it. This time the machine brought him to the edge and kept going. He pushed his whole body up, arching as far as the restraints would let him. He came. Finally experiencing in his mind and body what only his cock had felt the last three times.

The scientist and the subject were pleased with the results.

The One-Timer arrived at noon.

The scientist restrained him in the same position. She slid a butt plug into his ass, and attached the device around his dick.

From there, this subject’s experience was different.

First, the butt plug in his ass began to vibrate. The subject had never felt anything like this before. He moaned and shifted around in his bonds.

It was a weird feeling. An ever present feeling of being filled - of being intruded. Combined with the fact that he was tied up, the subject couldn't help but sink into a powerless headspace, despite the fact that he could end the experiment at any time.

He was pretty sure he liked this feeling.

The vibrating plug stimulated him in a strange way. He felt something building, almost like he had to pee. Then the plug stopped. The feeling subsided, but the ever-present plug served a reminder of his very hot predicament and kept him on edge up until the point it started vibrating again.

The vibration resumed, pushing gently on his prostate.

As her subject laid there, bound and filled, the scientist reminisced on what had brought her to this particular situation.

She'd moved to the small town after escaping an abusive relationship. The people in the town had been kind to her. They'd supported her as she got her degree and became a horticulture researcher.

It was a weird town. Over 50% of the townspeople were queer in some way. Beyond that - straight and gay alike - the townsfolk were quite sexually open. It was not uncommon to see someone tied up on the side of the road, publicly used by their partner. Many times she’d gone to parties and gatherings that featured swinging, group sex, or some sort of kink. As a bi woman, she’d really enjoyed this aspect of life in the town.

The towns’ gay men were, in particular, interesting. They seemed to have additional rituals and unspoken rules. They engaged in wild scenes and elaborate dynamics.

For instance, once the scientist had noticed one of the cashiers at the town's only store was seemingly gone for a long time. She'd assumed he'd moved. When he returned a full year later, she asked where'd he'd been. He'd excitedly informed her he'd spent the last year in “residency” as a no limits, 24/7 slave passed around the men of the village. He recounted with nostalgia his month-long stint in the Imposter Cop’s jail cell, where every few nights the cop would send in someone else to have his way with him. He reminisced over his time as the Master’s Gimp, turned into a living piece of furniture during one of his house parties that his guest could fuck as they pleased.

The scientist was a bit confused, but happy that he was happy.

A few years back, she was brought into one of these strange rituals. The Mayor invited her to be a hunter. She would be the first woman to be a hunter in this town. The Mayor explained the ritual and its importance.

Being scientifically minded, she hadn't believed there was any way the ritual did anything at all. The Mayor had said that a good harvest at the ritual led to a good harvest of food, and that not doing the ritual led to disaster for both the town, and the region as a whole.

Despite not believing all that ‘witchy shit’, she’d still participated. She’d found a volunteer on tinder and brought him.

After her first ritual, she became curious. She looked into the records of both agricultural output and records the mayor kept on each year’s ritual harvest. She was shocked to find that, not only did the town’s agricultural output perfectly correlate to the quality of the ritual harvest, but all of Iowa’s agriculture output seemed to follow the same trend.

In years of a good harvest of men, the crops of the Midwest were plentiful. On years with a lackluster one, supply dropped, crop quality tanked, and drought persisted.

But most shocking of all, the Mayor said that a few times in history, the town had stopped doing the ritual, thinking it to be superstition. On each of those years, a terrible disaster had struck not only the town, but the region as a whole.

The most recent:
1993 - no ritual, devastating EF5 tornado
2008 - no ritual, devastating flood, followed by another EF5 tornado
2020 - the scientist had been there for this one. As a covid precaution the town didn't do the ritual that year. Shortly after making the decision to skip a year, a powerful derecho passed through the state, destroying millions of crops. It crippled the town, and had a ripple effect on American food supply as a whole.

Since then, the scientist took the ritual incredibly seriously. She ran a yearly experiment to find the best possible tribute she could. She widdled her choices down until she was sure she was bringing in good prey.

The scientist looked over at her current prospect. The subject has been brought to the edge by anal stimulation alone 6 different times over the last 50 minutes.

It was time.

Finally she turned on the device on his cock. The plug in his ass began vibrating faster. The bound man moaned and started shaking in his bonds. The feeling was intense. If he closed his eyes it felt like he was both fucking and being fucked. He arched his back and came. A powerful, full body orgasm the likes of which he was sure he'd never felt before.

The scientist reviewed the data. While the One-Timer had a significantly intense orgasm, the Rebounder’s multiple intense plateaus won out. The scientist paid both subjects $100 and invited the Rebounder to one final round - this time with a much higher payout. The Rebounder agreed.

Despite not making it to the final round, both the One-Timer and the Scientist learned something from that second round.

The Scientist realized she should incorporate more anal stimulation when she brought the finalist to the ritual.

The One-Timer realized he needed to start getting pegged.

Truly the benefits of science speak for themselves.

[blackbound]

Months of continual bondage? Id say the Gimp is the luckiest of all! Though I guess from his attempts to protest and beg maybe he doesn't feel the same way.

Oh, I was looking at it purely from his perspective.

Interesting new chapter - are the subjects not from the town? Or just competing to be the finalist? Who gets to give tributes in the first place? So many questions...

[DeeperThanRed]

This is why we need women in STEM.

Great chapter! I hope that Scientists get to run many more tests on the willing One-Timer.

[Red86]

So I'm a bit behind and some of these chapters I've only skimmed over for now but this is an interesting story so far!

Keeping the suspension up with the lack of the readers even knowing what the ritual

I think next week I'll have some down time to finally catch up on stuff around here I've been meaning to read, so that's when I'll hopefully have a chance to read the ones I only skimmed through!!

[KidnappedCowboy]

Just read these tales. Incredibly awesome ones!

Cannot wait for the ritual.

The woman of science and her test subjects was my favorite. Be careful the next time you swipe right!!

[Pup Wingletang]

Who knew there were so many fun and interesting ways to take young men captive! I love how varied the different scenarios are and the overarching theme of the mysterious ritual is a great way of pulling them all together.

I love the voyeurism of the motel chapter with the victim strapped down to the bed and only able to watch as the assistant and manager have their way with each other.

Who wouldn't want to be turned into a long term bondage gimp, stolen away from the fair. I love the way the relationship develops between master and slave and the cosy ending.

I could definitely get behind the machine learning the motorist with the flat tyre is exposed to. Tied up and forced to watch non-stop porn all day and listen to erotic stories all night with it all slowly converging on the stuff that really turns you on.

The yearly bet seems like a great way to decide which half of the couple becomes the offering each year. Seems like a very fun way to keep the marriage interesting and the public sex on the pool table was great fun.

A couple of great examples of the dangers of people impersonating delivery drivers and police officers. The porn star constantly reminded that sadistic watchers are enjoying his predicament as shocks run through his body. The motorist a prisoner in a fake but still very real jail cell.

It's amazing what people will agree to do in the name of science. I love the idea of the six volunteers tied up together and slowly edged by machines.

Looking forward to what is involved in the actual ritual and how many more offerings are required.

[CaptiveDan]

Months of continual bondage? Id say the Gimp is the luckiest of all! Though I guess from his attempts to protest and beg maybe he doesn't feel the same way.

Oh, I was looking at it purely from his perspective.

Interesting new chapter - are the subjects not from the town? Or just competing to be the finalist? Who gets to give tributes in the first place? So many questions...

I'd say the Scientist is running this experiment in a lab building in a larger city, probably about an hour from the town - so these wouldn't be locals. Of course for the ritual one of the subjects is going to have to make the trek out to the countryside.

As for the other questions, all in good time...

[CaptiveDan]

This is why we need women in STEM.

Absolutely!

[CaptiveDan]

So I'm a bit behind and some of these chapters I've only skimmed over for now but this is an interesting story so far!

Keeping the suspension up with the lack of the readers even knowing what the ritual

I think next week I'll have some down time to finally catch up on stuff around here I've been meaning to read, so that's when I'll hopefully have a chance to read the ones I only skimmed through!!

Yay! Thank you for skimming it and I'm glad you like what you've seen! Very excited to get to the ritual. Only 2 more hunters to go.

[CaptiveDan]

Just read these tales. Incredibly awesome ones!

Cannot wait for the ritual.

The woman of science and her test subjects was my favorite. Be careful the next time you swipe right!!

Thank you, glad you like it! I usually stick to M/M but I had a great time writing the Scientist chapter - I'm glad traditionally M/M readers are enjoying it as well

[CaptiveDan]

Who knew there were so many fun and interesting ways to take young men captive! I love how varied the different scenarios are and the overarching theme of the mysterious ritual is a great way of pulling them all together.

I love the voyeurism of the motel chapter with the victim strapped down to the bed and only able to watch as the assistant and manager have their way with each other.

Who wouldn't want to be turned into a long term bondage gimp, stolen away from the fair. I love the way the relationship develops between master and slave and the cosy ending.

I could definitely get behind the machine learning the motorist with the flat tyre is exposed to. Tied up and forced to watch non-stop porn all day and listen to erotic stories all night with it all slowly converging on the stuff that really turns you on.

The yearly bet seems like a great way to decide which half of the couple becomes the offering each year. Seems like a very fun way to keep the marriage interesting and the public sex on the pool table was great fun.

A couple of great examples of the dangers of people impersonating delivery drivers and police officers. The porn star constantly reminded that sadistic watchers are enjoying his predicament as shocks run through his body. The motorist a prisoner in a fake but still very real jail cell.

It's amazing what people will agree to do in the name of science. I love the idea of the six volunteers tied up together and slowly edged by machines.

Looking forward to what is involved in the actual ritual and how many more offerings are required.

Thank you! I'm glad like it! It's been fun coming up with lots of varied ways to get men tied up. There's definitely a big range in terms of how willing/happy with their predicament each man is. Hopefully there's something in this anthology that appeals to everyone in some way!

[CaptiveDan]

Here's the next chapter! It's a bit of a long one and an intense one. Up there with the Gimp in terms of how extreme of a fate it is.

Harsh Justice
“Please! I'm telling you I don't know why I'm here!”

The Vengeful man turned the crank. The Punished felt his wrist cuffs stretch his arms up higher. A fiery, tight pain once again engulfed his forearms, shoulders, and sides. He screamed in pain and begged the Vengeful to stop.

In truth the Vengeful had stopped - stopped stretching him at least - but after enough times hearing the crank of the rack and feeling a painful stretch on his limbs, the Punished had begun to associate the crank with torment. The Vengeful had made it so the crank was no longer stretching the Punished out, because the Punished’s conditioned mind would do the torturing for him.


Image from benboundgagged Tumblr

The Punished had confessed to all manner of sins. He'd gone on and on about the people he'd bullied back in school, the friends and coworkers he'd betrayed to climb the ladder at his job, the many people he'd swindled out of home and property - using their lack of knowledge of the system to scam them out of money that should have been theirs.

But he still hadn’t admitted to the crime that had doomed him to this fate.

The Vengeful was shocked. Did the Punished not remember? Did he not consider what he'd done to be wrong?

Perhaps a reminder. The Vengeful grabbed the Punsihed's balls and squeezed.

“No, no, no, please - please”

The Vengeful turned his hand, ever so slightly, putting just enough twist on the Punished's balls to serve as a warning.

“Tell me,” the Vengeful said, “what harm have these caused.”

The Punished stared up at the man torturing him. The man's chest was bare, save for a leather harness. He wore long leather chaps, and an executioner's hood over his face. The Punished had no clue who this could be, but that last sentence gave him an idea about what he might be wanting to confess to.

And so, the Punished confessed. In college he'd knocked some girl up. They just started dating. She'd always insisted he use a condom, and he always did, until one night she was buzzed enough he was pretty sure he could sneakily not wear one and she wouldn't notice. When she'd gotten pregnant, he’d first called her a whore and accused her of sleeping with other people. When it was clear she wouldn't believe that lie, he changed his tune, blaming her pregnancy on what must have been a defective condom. She'd believed him, as she was a kind and trusting person, and he was an expert at manipulating people like that.

She'd wanted to have an abortion. Right away, early on. She wasn't ready to be a mom, she'd been so careful in the past, and she had her whole college career ahead of her. The Punished convinced her to keep the child. He'd promised to stand by her side. Then, once she'd made up her mind to go through with the pregnancy, the Punished ghosted her, and transferred schools.

She'd had to drop out of college. She went through the terrible process of labor without her ‘boyfriend’ there to support her. She'd had the kid, and the entire course of her life was changed forever.

Unlike her boyfriend, the Vengeful had been there for her. He, like her other friends, did their best to support her. But the Vengeful felt this weird combination of guilt and resentment. He felt like he should have done more; he remembered all the times he'd ignored her calls or said he couldn't come by because he was at a party, or had a Grindr hookup over, or just needed a few hours of normal college shit. At the same time he remembered all the normal college kid things he'd missed out on because he and his friends were busy helping their unlucky friend out.

This year, his prey for the ritual was the answer to these feelings that had been building for the past decade.

“You have admitted to many sins tonight” the Vengeful told the whimpering Punished, “Soon will begin the long process of atoning for them”.

The Vengeful picked up a needle and injected the Punished. The Punished went limp, staring blankly forward. The Vengeful had perfected a drug that would render his victim temporarily helpless, dazed and nearly paralyzed, but not quite unconscious. This would be the method that he would use to change his victims' restraints and prison without fear of escape.

The Vengeful had a big job ahead of him. He had five months until the presentation and ritual. He'd need to keep his prisoner both captive and alive for the entirety of that time. He also needed to plan fitting punishment for each of the crimes the Punished had admitted to.

For the first month of captivity, the Vengeful took a page out of the Master’s book. The Vengeful had actually willingly spent a full month as the Master’s Gimp when he'd first moved to the town - as a way to get a crash course in BDSM by throwing himself into the deep end.

As he had experienced as the Master’s Gimp, the Vengeful forced the Punished into a latex Gimp suit. He'd spend the days chained, blindfolded, and gagged. Pitifully hobbling around the house.


Image from rubbergimps Tumblr

For meals, the Punished was chained to a chair. He'd have his gagged removed, and one hand unlocked so he could eat his food. Even with one hand free, the Punished couldn't escape, as the Vengeful ensured every cuff and anchor point was securely locked.

The Vengeful created a very routine bathroom schedule, and soon the Punished’s body adapted to it. The Punished would be stripped and chained to the handicap rails of the bathroom until he was finished.

At night the latex suit was removed, the Punished was chained naked to a metal framed cot. While sleeping in bondage was in no way comfortable, the Punished soon came to crave his time spread-eagle on the bed; it was his only respite from the horrors of the day.

That first month had been a sort of ease into long-term captivity. The Vengeful had stuck with the tried and true methods of the Master, and held off on any retributive torture.

But now he was ready for more.

As a general method of atonement, for his lesser, unspoken, or otherwise miscellaneous sins, the Punished was strapped to a X-cross and whipped. The first few weeks, the whipping had broken the Pubished. He'd scream with every lash, and leave each session on the verge of tears. But by the end of the first month, he could get through each whipping silently. For the rest of his captivity he stoichly accepted his daily beatings. Not that they ever became less painful - rather something in his head switched to where he came to expect the pain.

During this second month, the Vengeful also decided it was time to test the ankle bracelet trackers he'd put on each of the Punished’s legs.

Every afternoon, the Vengeful brought the Punished outside. He'd leave his wrists cuffed behind his back, but otherwise released him from his bonds. Then he'd tell him to run.

The Punished would run, desperately trying to find someone to help him. Some neighbor or busy road out here in the many sprawling acres of cornfields. When that failed he'd tried to hide. Every time, the Vengeful would chase after him, riding on the back of an 4-wheeler, following him perfectly with the help of the tracker on his phone.

The Vengeful would ride up behind him, then lasso the poor man. Then, he’d tie a length of rope to connect the Punsihed's collar to the back of the 4-wheeler, and slowly lead him back to his house like an old western sheriff escorting a bandit back to town.

After a few days of trying his hardest to escape, the Punished realized it was futile. When the Vengeful brought him out for his daily chase, the Punished refused to run.

So the Vengeful decided to incentivize him.

He’d learned the Punished was ticklish. He informed the Punished that he planned on tickling him mercilessly… unless he could manage to evade the Vengeful for a full hour.

That made the bound man run.

Some days the Punished succeeded and was spared from that horrific tickling. Other days he failed. Oh how he'd howled with pained laughter on the days he failed. The Vengeful made sure to be brutal in his tickling, to ensure the Punished would try harder the next day.

While the Vengeful hadn't planned on continuing the daily chase and capture after the first week, he ended up having so much fun with it he decided that would become a regular part of their schedule.

By month 3 it was time to atone for his bullying. The Vengeful introduced regular and unpredictable moments of justice into their day to day. An occasional swirly before his prisoner was allowed to use the bathroom. A painful wedgie on the colder nights when his prisoner was allowed to wear clothes. A few hours shoved into a dark, cramped closet.

This was also the month the Vengeful began experimenting with other ways of keeping his prisoner restrained.

His favorite method was the cage. At around 5x3x3 the cage was big enough that the Punished could move somewhat, shift his body weight, and adjust his position. But he could never quite stretch all the way out.

Sturdy, metal, and locked with a padlock, the Punished could have been fully un-restrained and the cage would have held him.

Of course, he was rarely fully un-restrained. Often the Vengeful had him muzzled, as his complaining, begging, and occasional threats of revenge grew quite annoying. He'd put him in a harness but leave him otherwise naked, not for any practical reason - but rather because the Vengeful enjoyed looking over throughout the day and seeing his nude prisoner.

And of course there was the cock cage. Whenever the Punished was in a position where it would have been possible to pleasure himself, the Vengeful assured his dick was locked up. That dick had caused quite a lot of problems in the past, best keep it contained.



Image from rrecon Tumblr

The bondage mitts came in month 4. It was a punishment for all the ways he'd cheated his friends and coworkers, all the times he'd swindled poor people through his job. In the old days thieves had their hands cut off. The Vengeful couldn't do that obviously, but he could make it so the Punished spent a full 30 days without use of his hands.

He did everything with his hands either in mitts or taped. Eating was humiliating. Using the bathroom and bathing was tedious. And of course his daily attempts to flee and hide from the Vengeful became infinitely harder.

The only times his hands were free was while he was sleeping - a necessity to ensure his hands would still function when the month was over.

Finally came month 5. The last one before the ritual.

The whipping, daily chasing and tickling continued. But now, for this final month, there was one more added punishment.

Everyday, the Punished would be stripped fully naked and tied down to a bed. The Vengeful would slowly and dramatically put a condom on his dick.

“If only you'd done this all those years ago”

Then, sometimes for an hour, sometimes two, the Vengeful would edge the man. He’d carefully and methodically jack him off, never letting him cum. The condom did an excellent job at slightly dulling the sensation so the bound man would last just a little bit longer between each plateau, and feel just a little bit more sexually frustrated than if he'd been bare.

After 5 full months of nonstop imprisonment, daily torture, and a full loss of control, the Punsihed was convinced he was in hell. Whether he'd died all those days ago and this was his karmic punishment, or if this was all real and he had in fact been captured by a lunatic, it didn't matter. It was all the same. Worst of all was his realization that he had no real friends. Before all of this he'd had acquaintances, sure, but no one that really cared. Never once in his mind did he assume someone was going to be looking for him. A fate he himself had ensured through the awful way he treated those close to him.

The night of the presentation, the Punished had been drugged, brought to the barn in a strange half-sleep state. He'd assumed it was some weird dream.

A weird dream he was shaken awake from by the first new person he'd seen in months.

“Kyle, wake up!” The woman whispered, shaking the bars of the cage the Punished had spent the night in.

Kyle’s eyes lit up. Someone was here to rescue him! The woman unlocked the cage door and motioned for him to come out.

Kyle wanted to thank her, but he was still muzzled. Which may have been a good thing, he definitely recognized her from work, but didn't remember her name. Annabell, Anna Marie? Didn't matter, she’d released him. He crawled out and stood up.

“Quickly, follow me.”

He held up his fist mitts.

“I couldn't find the key to those, sorry.” She whispered, eyes darting around, “just come with me, we’ll get those off when you're safe.”

The rescuer led the still muzzled and mitted Kyle through the house and out the door. Once outside, Kyle used his mitted fist to point at his ankle tracker.

“That's why we have to be fast.” She said, “they'll be following us.”

She rushed Kyle into her car and sped down the long driveway.

Kyle was thrilled. Finally rescued. Finally close to freedom. He could’ve cried.

It was only in the long car ride that he became embarrassed. Here he was, naked save for a cock cage, helplessly gagged, with his hands locked in ridiculous fist mitts. He tried to shift around and cover himself, but no position alleviated the humiliation.

But he could deal with humiliation if it meant an end to this nightmare.

The woman sped down the country roads.

“There's a barn not too far from here,” she said, “it's in a radio dead zone. The trackers on your ankles won't show your location there. We’ll wait there until the police arrive.”

Kyle nodded.

The woman skidded the car to a stop outside the barn. She rushed out, opened the passenger door and led Kyle inside.

The barn was dark. The wind made an eerie howl through the small cracks in the wood.

Then, as if on cue, the full moon rose above the horizon. Faint light streamed in through the open barn door, revealing the Vengeful, standing in the back corner, smiling.

Kyle turned and tried to run, but the woman who'd rescued him tackled him to the ground.

The pregnant college student hasn't been the only woman Kyle had wronged in his past.

Just 2 months prior to Kyle's capture, Annastasia -a hardworking and long time employee at his company- had asked him for a promotion. Kyle said he'd think about it, then had dangled one in front of her, making her work overtime, take on some of his work for no extra pay, and essentially act as his workplace servant. When Kyle had found out why Annastasia needed the promotion so badly -that she was taking care of her sick mother who's medical bills were racking up- he realized he could get her to do anything for this promotion.

Around that same time, the Vengeful had contacted Annastasia. A friend of a friend. He promised vengeance, and money, for her help.

Annastasia was happy to help. She found out Kyle's personal info and got all his finances from payroll. She gave the Vengeful everything he needed to know to track Kyle down and knock him out.

Once he was safely tied to a rack in the Vengeful’s basement. Annastasia emptied his bank account. True to their agreement, she gave the Vengeful half of his money, and took half herself. Then she fabricated a rumor to the feds that Kyle, spiraling towards bankruptcy, had taken his money and fled the country.

Half his money was more than enough to support her and her mom. And it was more than enough for the Vengeful to take an extended leave from his job and focus on his prisoner full time.

Kyle yelled into his muzzle. He screamed as loud as his gag would let him. The Vengeful and Annastasia worked together to hogtie the Punished, to prepare him for the ritual.

The betrayer, betrayed. Justice served.

[CaptiveDan]

What He Asked For
Occam's Razor. Sometimes the best solution is the easiest one.

Sometimes all you have to do is ask.

“Would you be interested in spending two days tied up in different ways, paraded around and gawked at by other gay men, teased and edged until you're begging to cum?”

A perhaps not surprising amount of men answer “yes, please!”

And so, the past few years the Mayor didn't have to kidnap anyone. He could be fully honest of his intentions and get eager volunteers.

The doorbell rang. This year's volunteer was here.

The Mayor greeted the man and the two had a casual conversation for about an hour. They discussed things they'd talked about online, went over limits and safe words, and came to trust one another.

The Volunteer had mentioned that he'd only ever been tied up a few times, and never very well. He could always get free with ease. He'd still had fun in these old hookups, pretending to be captive for his partner, but it wasn't the same - he craved real bondage.

The Mayor was happy to oblige.

He had his guest strip down to his briefs and socks, then stand facing a mirror. A shiver ran down the volunteer’s spine as the Mayor took his wrists and slowly led them so they were crossed behind his back. The Mayor let go of his wrists. The Volunteer held them in place.

The Mayor took a long length of rope and begin coiling it around the man's wrists. The volunteer started to get hard, the anticipation building as the older man took his time binding him.

A loop between the hands, pulled tight. The space between each wrist closed. Just like that the volunteer’s hands were tied. He tried to pull them apart. No luck. He tried to slip his wrists free. No luck. He tried to wiggle his fingers and find the knot. No luck.

This was very promising.

Tracing one finger up both arms, the Mayor found the perfect place for additional rope. Right above his elbows, the Mayor tied the Volunteer’s arms together. Close enough that he couldn't get leverage and brute force his way free, close enough that he felt a little discomfort from the forced stretch, but not so close as to be dangerous.

The Volunteer shuttered.

The Mayor brought a head harness up in front of the Volunteer. The volunteer gulped as the Mayor put the panel over his face and began tightening the straps around the man's head. There was no gag inside the harness, and so the Volunteer’s mouth was not filled. However the chin-strap of the muzzle ensured he couldn't open his mouth very far. He could open it enough to breathe, enough to mumble even, but not enough to scream.

“Snap your fingers”

The volunteer obeyed.

“That's your safe word if you need out,” the Mayor said, “do your fingers feel okay? How's your circulation?”

The volunteer nodded and mumbled “good.”

The Mayor guided the Volunteer so he was laying on his stomach. The Volunteer instinctively bent his legs back towards his ass. He’d been hogtied before.

“Wow, so eager.” The Mayor ruffled the Volunteer’s hair.

He tied the man’s legs together, but then, to the Volunteer's surprise, did not tie them to his wrists.

Instead, with the rest of the rope, the Mayor tied the man's ankles to a d-ring on the back of his head harness.

The tension pulled the man into a bend. His back arched, his neck and legs stretched. He was tied up. Really tied up.

Gif from borntobegagged tumblr

“Alright” the Mayor said, “get loose.”

The volunteer wiggled on the floor, rocking on his hips from side to side. He stretched his hands back as far as he could, looking for the knot tying his ankles together. A few minutes was all it took to realize the single knot securing his legs and head was tied off on his head harness. There was no way he could reach the knot. He was stuck in this awkward back bend.

The volunteer instead tried to wiggle his hands free. The Mayor watched as he struggled to find slack. The Mayor smiled, he loved giving subs what they'd asked for. He let the man struggle in his bonds for a good twenty minutes.

The volunteer’s neck was getting sore. He felt a pressure on his chest and stomach from the position. What had started as a gentle stretch was quickly becoming uncomfortable.

The Mayor had no intention of tormenting his guest, but he did want to make a point before giving him some slack.

“Given enough time,” the Mayor said, walking over and sitting in a chair behind his captive, “almost all rope is escapable… well, at least almost all rope tied with respect to safety.”

Sure enough, the volunteer did feel like the rope around his wrist had slightly more slack than before. Still not nearly enough to get free.

The Mayor continued, “Even so, I would still consider this position you’re in to be real bondage. It will take an hour, maybe more, before you can get yourself free, and in the meantime you're helpless to stop me from doing whatever I want with you.”

A rush of adrenaline, fear, and arousal swept over the volunteer.

“For example…”

The Mayor began tickling the hogtied man's feet. The volunteer immediately began thrashing around on the floor. He wobbled side to side, trying to get his feet away. The Mayor's hands always found them. He tugged at the rope, now with a lot more motivation to get free. But no amount of extra effort made his escape any easier.

The Mayor was right. He was trapped, at his mercy. This is what bondage was supposed to feel like. This is what he'd been waiting for.

The Mayor tickled him a while, half to drive home the point, and half because his guest seemed to be enjoying it. Once he was done, and his volunteer thoroughly sweaty, the Mayor had mercy and untied the rope that connected the volunteer’s head to his feet.

The volunteer stretched out, laying face down, enjoying the reprieve.

The Mayor left him there for about an hour to work on other things, always in eye and ear shot. When the hour was over, the volunteer had managed to loosen his bonds enough that he could probably get himself free in another 20-30 minutes. The Mayor sped up the process by untying him himself.

For the rest of the day the Mayor tied the volunteer in different positions. The two talked in between each to debrief. At one point the Mayor let the volunteer tie him up, and gave him some pointers on his rope work.

That evening, for the presentation, the Mayor had brought the Volunteer to the barn first, tied him to a thick wooden pole, and informed him that others were coming.

The volunteer had been both surprised and excited by the scene that followed. He didn't really know what was going on, but he sure did enjoy being in a room with a bunch of men tied up by other men. Whatever fun roleplay scene, swingers group, or kink club this was sure looked like a good time.

Afterwards, the Mayor had asked the Volunteer how he felt about the day. The volunteer was happy with everything, and very excited for what was to come. The Mayor asked if he'd enjoyed being displayed in front of the other men of town, which the volunteer affirmed he had. The Mayor said he had an idea for tomorrow, and asked his guest if he was comfortable with strangers fooling around with him while he was bound - with the protection that the Mayor would be there to make sure no one crossed his boundaries.

The volunteer thought for a few minutes, but ultimately decided he was down to try something like that.

The next morning, the Mayor tied the volunteer up in the back of his pickup truck. He tied his guest spread-eagle, with added ropes around his forearms to keep him sitting upright. Then the Mayor drove him through the town.

Image from jeanxxm tumblr

The “downtown” consisted of a post office, a combination gas station + gun store + liquor shop, a dairy queen, a hardware store, the town's only bar (known for its pool table), and a small diner.

The first stop was the parking lot of the diner.

The Mayor backed the truck into a spot facing the window of the diner. Being Saturday morning, the place was packed. The Volunteer’s bound body was fully on display for the many patrons of the diner. He felt a rush of embarrassment as the brunch patrons looked out the window at him. Some pointed, some laughed, one winked. He could only assume the many tables that glanced at him, then talked to each other, were talking about him. His dick started to grow in his boxer briefs. He wanted so desperately to cover it, but his arms were tied apart, and his legs were spread, ensuring everyone had a perfect few of the humiliated man’s excitement.

The Mayor went inside, and invited a few men to his house for an early dinner.

Next stop was the gas station. As the Mayor fueled up, two men came out of the connected liquor store.

“Is this a ‘look but don't touch’ sorta situation or…”

“Oh you can definitely touch,” the Mayor said, “just don't be too rough. And keep your hands on the outside of his briefs for now.”

The Mayor looked to the Volunteer for confirmation. The volunteer nodded his head - though he was sure he'd regret it.

Immediately one man began tickling the captive’s feet. The volunteer thrashed around, causing the whole truck to rock back and forth. He burst out laughing, so loud he started to draw the attention of more people.

The other man jumped in the back of the truck, straddled the volunteer, and began running his hands along the volunteer’s exposed body - not in an attempt to tickle him - but rather turn him on. Slowly he made his way to the man's nipples. He made circles around them - as best he could as the volunteer thrashed around from the tickling - and then gave them a sharp pinch. The volunteer yelped, just for a second, before erupting back into a fit of laughter.

After about a half hour of having their fun, the two men decided it was time to head out. The Mayor invited them to an early dinner, around 3pm, at his place.

The last stop was the hardware store. The Mayor pulled around to the back, behind a gate, where a few employees were hanging out. One employee, about the Mayor's age, a bit sunburnt, bearded, and thoroughly tattooed, was shirtless, working on what looked to be a wooden chair.

The Mayor hopped out of the truck, walked over to the worker and talked for a few minutes. The volunteer couldn't make out what they were talking about. The Mayor walked back over to the truck and explained to the volunteer.

“In a town like this one, this hardware store doubles as a sex shop. Darrel here has been working on some projects and wants to test one on you. Sound fun?”

“Yes sir!” The volunteer was equally excited and scared.

The Mayor and Darrel untied the Volunteer and led him inside. They were in what looked to be a back room of the shop. One particular area was dedicated to restraints, furniture with tie down points, leather, and bondage equipment.

The Volunteer was led over to a box made of wood. The top was open, but there was a clear mechanism for sliding wood to close it.

“Ya sit in it, then we slide the planks here and here.” Darrel explained, “the planks leave holes, one for ya head and two for ya hands. Bit like sittin-down stocks. ‘Course everyone's wrists and neck are different so we gotta account for that with these...”

Darrel pointed over to shelves that had a myriad of hoods, collars, and mitts.

The volunteer gulped. Those were serious bondage equipment. This would be the most confined, likely least escapable bondage he'd ever experienced.

He wasn't sure if he was ready - but then again, would he ever be until he tried? When else would he get to do something like this?

The volunteer agreed to be put in the box. The Mayor gave him two tennis balls to hold in his hands, then slid the mitts over top. The balls and mitts kept his hands rolled up in such a way he couldn't slide them out of the mitts. The Mayor helped him find a hood that fit. He chose one with a blindfold. While the hood covered his whole face (save for two holes at the nose for breathing), the Volunteer opted to not be gagged, in case he needed to shout for help.

The Mayor pulled down the Volunteer's underwear so he was naked; his cock stood straight up. Darrel led the rock hard, hooded, and mitted man into the box, and guided him so he was sitting down. He put his wrists and neck into position, and slide the wood panels, sealing him inside, with his head and hands sticking out.


Image from toffer91 Tumblr

With a lock to a latch on each side of the box, the volunteer was trapped. He shuffled around but quickly found he was truly stuck.

Perfect.

The Volunteer spent two hours in that box. It was somewhat meditative. He was forced to do nothing but think. He couldn't see, his hearing was muffled, and the parts of his body inside the box felt nearly no sensations at all. It was quite very nice.

While he was restrained, the Mayor and Darrel reminisced on the ritual throughout the years.

Both had come to the town as young men, seeking the rural queer haven they’d heard rumors of.

The first years they'd been there, the tributes had all been volunteers from the town. A few times the Mayor had volunteered to be Darrel's tribute, and vice versa.

Then one year, something changed. A breakthrough. A culture shifting event.

The Mayor, at the time in his late twenties, was enjoying a drink at the town's only bar. He was chatting with the Mechanic, and the two decided to leave together. They headed back to the Mechanic’s trailer. In the Mechanic’s bedroom, the Mayor began to disrobe, only to be blindsided and tackled onto the bed. The mechanic wrestled the Mayor down and handcuffed him.

The next evening, the mechanic brought a shackled and gagged Mayor to the presentation.

“I didn't know he decided to volunteer this year,” one of the other men had said.

“He didn't.” The mechanic said, “I decided for him.”

That had opened Pandora's box. In this town of kinky, ravenous men, the idea of forcing your neighbor to be tribute was just too hot to pass up. Days, and even weeks, before the presentation there'd be a rush to capture, trick, or otherwise secure a tribute. Anyone in the town was fair game, and capture could come when you least expected it.

To the Mayor, that had been the golden era. He’d loved the rush of that month before the ritual, when everyone scrambled to form alliances, plan out the perfect kidnapping, and betray their neighbors. It brought the community together. It pushed people to tie up and be tied by people they normally wouldn't. It was fun.

But over the years some people's appetites had changed. With the town being so open to sex and kink on a regular basis, some hunters started looking to the ritual as a way to justify to themselves some of their more extreme fantasies. It was a chance to indulge themselves in real kidnapping, real capture.

And the results had spoken for themselves. The switch to more unwilling subs had led to an increase in crop yield. Bringing in unsuspecting out-of-towners had made the ritual more effective. Even the more empathetic hunters came to see these unwilling captives as a necessity.

But the Mayor was learning that might not be true. The past few years he'd accepted volunteers, and the ritual had still been effective. For the past decade the husbands had been switching being bound rather than bringing in prey, and the ritual had still been effective. The scientist got consent from participants in her fake study, and the ritual had still been effective.

The Mayor and the Scientist had poured over data from the past century of the ritual. They’d made and tested theories. They'd finally come up with a working idea for what the land required of them. What the ancient powers that demanded the ritual actually craved.

Intensity.

The beasts craved the most intense feelings and sensations. The adrenaline of heart-pounding fear, the depths of total hopelessness, and of course, the highest peak of arousal and release.

The quick kidnappings like the Mechanic's and Trucker’s did the best job at creating a mix of extreme fear, confusion, and anger. The longer term imprisonment the Master, Cop, and Vengeful dealt in maximized the deepest sense of hopelessness, loss of control, and entrapment. The Mayor and the Hotel Manager specialized in excitement, ecstasy, and novelty - giving men relatively new to kink an experience like no other.

The husbands were a unique case - the lead up to the ritual was less important to the equation then what came after. They'd come to know that whoever lost would spend the coming months as a prime target for hazing, unsuspecting kidnapping, and forced submission by the rest of the town. For them the ritual maximized anticipation, dread, and a masochistic eager excitement.

And then there was the scientist. She focused all her efforts, all her ability on maximizing that one key intensity that was the foundation of the whole ritual.

Orgasm. The single most important offering the hunters and their prey gave to the powers of the land. More than anything else, the hunters were tasked with eliciting from their prey the most powerful, total, anticipated orgasm.

It would be a good harvest this year for sure.

The Mayor decided it was time to bring the volunteer home. He released his captive from Darrel’s box, thanked Darrel, and tied the volunteer up in the back of his truck like before. He took the long way home, making sure to show off his captured man to as many of his friends along the way.

Once home, he untied the volunteer. They talked about the day, what the volunteer had liked and what sort of things he still wanted to try.

Around 3pm many of the people the Mayor had invited showed up for an early dinner. The Volunteer properly introduced himself, and chatted with the men over the meal. The Mayor was happy. The volunteer and the townspeople seemed to be having fun and getting along. Every so often one of his volunteers would decide to move to the town after having this experience. He hoped this would be the case this year as well.

At 5pm, the Mayor kicked everyone out. It was time.

“Alright,” he said to his volunteer, “Use the bathroom, stretch out, and get excited. It's time for one last scene.”

[Red86]

Uhm, hard for me to say as to which I liked the most since I haven't fully read each of the scenes yet. Having said that, I like the jail one and only got half way through the volunteer one before I realized just how long the chapter was, but did like that one to. I'm not sure how long you'll keep the poll up but once I fully read them all, I post which was my favorite!

[blackbound]

Ooh, two more updates! My vote hasn't changed (though #8 came close) but it's fun to see the standings right now.

I think my initial prediction of where this would go is all but confirmed, though I didn't know exactly what for.

[CaptiveDan]

The Ritual
At last.

9 Tributes, brought by the men who'd - through kidnapping, trickery, or transparency had secured them - gathered into the barn.

The sun was moments from setting.

“Hunters” the Mayor’s voice boomed through the barn, “I trust your tributes are restrained. The sunset is iminent. Prepare the ritual.”

Every hunter was ready. Everything had built to this.

The sun set.

***

The motel manager and assistant had gone through the effort of laying down a mattress in a side stall of the barn. Their guest had spent the past 36 hours tied to a bed, and they thought it fitting he be tied spread-eagle for this as well.



From BondageMoments Tumblr

The assistant sat between the guest's legs, while the motel owner teased their captives cock. The assistant stroked his own hard dick, showing it off to the overwhelming horny guest.

After two days of anticipation, of wanting so badly to fuck the assistant he'd first been seduced by all those hours ago, the guest honestly didn't care about the strange situation he found himself in. Tied up naked to a mattress in a barn - vs tied to one in a motel - didn't matter, his mind was focused on one thing.

“Can I?” The assistant leaned over, placing the tip of his hard cock right at the guest's asshole.

The guest, gagged with duct tape, excitedly nodded his head yes.

The assistant slid his cock into the guest's ass, while the motel manager teased the bound man's dick. The guest moaned into his gag. A full two days of waiting building to a monumental orgasm.

***

The pornstar had been brought in his cage. He struggled against the cuffs that still bound him a full day later. Still the leather had no give. The trucker had dropped his cage haphazardly in the barn. The dust and hay irritated the poor man's perfect skin.

The trucker opened the cage. The pornstar tugged at his restraints, desperate to get free and escape the metal frame that had contained him. No give. No luck.

The trucker fixed electrodes to his prisoner, this time not to his thighs, but directly to his cock. The trucker turned the current on. The pornstar felt a strange, buzzing sensation. His cock hardened, stimulated by the shock. It was both weirdly pleasurable and slightly painful.

“Let's see how many times you'll cum for me before midnight”

The first one didn't take long. The pornstar rocked and shook the cage as the electro device brought him over the edge. He yelled into the gag as he shot his first load.

To his horror, the electric stimulation continued.

The pornstar was known for cumming multiple times in a row. But he always had at least a moment of lower intensity before starting again.

The constant, unwavering stimulation was brutal. He screamed into his gag and thrashed around. But there was nothing he could do but ride the post organs torture out until he was ready for another round.

Each subsequent orgasm took just a little longer to build up to.

After cumming 5 times, the Trucker stopped the electro device.

“I want to make sure you save some for the big one” he said, taking the pads off the pornstar's dick.

“In the meantime, to make sure you don't get bored…” He reattached the electrodes to the caged hunk’s thighs.

The pornstar shook his head, his eyes filled with terror.

The stimulating shocks ended. The painful shocks began again.

***

The master had brought his Gimp in a straitjacket. He'd gagged his Gimp, then muzzled him, then locked a heavy duty blindfolded over his eyes; he didn't want the Gimp to know where he was going. He wanted to make sure his slave focused on him alone.

The master ordered his Gimp to kneel in front of him.


Image by sliprightin0 tumblr

The Gimp, blindfolded, muzzled, and trapped, could hear the whimpers, moans, and mumbles of the other tributes. He paid them no mind. Months of conditioning had taught him his only focus should be on his master.

“You've done so well,” the gimp’s master said, “truly, you've earned this.”

The master squatted in front of the kneeling Gimp, and pulled open the fly on the Gimp’s briefs, revealing the cock cage that had kept the Gimp from cumming for the last month. The master unlocked the cage and carefully removed it. The Gimp’s cock swelled, pointing straight out. The master traced his finger from the base of his prisoner’s balls up to the head of his penis.

“Don't cum until I command you”

The Gimp nodded, giving a pitiful, desperate whimper.

The master stood up, unlocked the muzzle, and removed his gimp's gag. He unzipped his fly and let his own hard dick out. He slapped his blindfolded Gimp with his cock, then grabbed his sub’s hair. He forced his dick inside the Gimp’s mouth, holding the prisoner’s head firm so he couldn’t pull away.

Already pre-cum dripped out of the Gimp’s eager dick. The hardest part for both men would be waiting until midnight.

***

The traveler didn't even know anything had changed.

He was tied up the same way he'd been all day. His vision and hearing fully occupied by the endless stream of porn. His dick was still hard from the nonstop sexual imagery.

He'd felt his captors move him, but he didn't know where. He didn't know he was in a barn. He didn't know there were other men around him.

What he did know was that for the first time since his capture, he felt something on his dick.

Wet. Warm. Pressure. A hand? A Fleshlight? Something else?

He didn't know. He didn't care. It felt amazing.

The traveler used every muscle in his bound body to thrust his hips, desperate to finally act on all this built up arousal.

Only for whatever he was fucking to pull away.

A new video started, one he'd been shown earlier, one he'd responded particularly well to.

A few minutes later the thing around his dick was back. It brought him close again, then pulled away.

The bound traveler groaned. The mechanic felt bad for him. 10 minutes in and he was already overwhelmed. Who knew what kind of mess he would be after hours of this.

***

The loser knelt over a fucking bench, his arms and legs held in place by thick Velcro straps.



Image from alpha-slaves-and-toyboys tumblr

His husband, the winner, stood in front of him. He tussled his lover’s hair, then presented his cock. His husband opened his mouth. The winner slowly pushed his dick down the loser's throat. Unlike the master, who fucked his gimp’s mouth, the winner stood still, letting his husband suck his dick. The loser moved his head as best as his position would allow. He let his tongue dance around his husband’s hard cock. He changed suction, speed, and technique to keep his husband on his toes… and to ensure he didn't cum before midnight.

After an hour of sucking his husband's dick - with frequent pauses for the loser to catch his breath and let the winner come down from the edge - the loser’s jaw was sore. He began to slow down.

With midnight steadily approaching, it was time to switch positions. The winner walked around behind the loser. He lubed up his finger and teased his bound husband's asshole, before sliding it inside.

With one hand he fingered his husband, with the other he lightly caressed the loser’s balls, careful with both to make sure he didn't make his lover cum too early. With tremendous restraint, the husband waited until there was only 30 minutes to midnight. Then, at last, he grabbed the loser's hips and forced his cock inside him.

The loser moaned, clenched his fists, and let his husband take him to cloud nine.

***

The unlucky driver was freaking out.

He'd grown used to his jail cell. 10 days had bred a sort of hopeless familiarity with his situation.

But this situation, a barn filled with bound men being edged, tortured, and pleasured - all with an air of urgency and ritualistic importance - was deeply unsettling.

He struggled more than he ever had in his time captured by the imposter cop.

But of course, his struggling was pointless. Thick steel cuffs were locked on his wrists. His arms -as well as many thick chains- wrapped around the sturdy wooden support behind him, ensuring he could do nothing but stand there.

Still he squirmed and kicked as the cop pulled down his pants, leaving him naked in front of all these men and their prisoners.

The cop gagged the screaming inmate with his hand. He pointed to the Pornstar being electrocuted, then to the Punished being tortured.

“Do you want me to treat you like that?”

The unlucky driver shook his head.

“Or do you want that.” The cop pointed to the traveler, who was being gently jacked off by the Mechanic. Despite his intense bondage, his fate seemed comparatively pleasurable.

The unlucky driver nodded. Screaming and fighting would only get him pain. Maybe obedience would prove better.

“Then shut up, relax, and enjoy”

The unlucky driver obeyed the imposter cop.

The cop pulled some supplies from his bag. He rolled a cock ring onto the driver, to assist in letting him build arousal without shooting too soon. He slid a transparent cock sleeve over his inmate's cock, then pressed a button on its side so it began to vibrate.

The driver shifted his weight, trying to get comfortable in his bonds, while the vibrator sleeve and cock ring did their job.

***

Like the inmate, the scientist’s test subject found himself in a terrifying, unexpected situation.

He'd gone to the scientist’s office for a follow-up experiment. The scientist had informed him this experiment would be one involving sensory deprivation, sleep, and -of course- orgasm.

The scientist had the subject strip naked. She then attached the edging device to his dick, securing it with straps around his waist and between his legs. She then handed him a remote controlled butt plug and a bottle of lube.

“This will monitor your arousal level.”

The subject was skeptical, and thought about opting out. But the payout was too good, and the last experiment had been fun enough. Fuck it. He slid the plug inside his ass.

She led him to a bed, where a black leather sleep sack was waiting for him.

The man hesitantly got inside it, and let her seal him in.

The scientist brought a strange mouth-gaurd-looking thing to his lips.

“This will make sure your airway remains unobstructed.”

The subjected opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could say anything, the scientist shoved the device into his mouth. Sure enough, it forced his jaw open enough that breathing wouldn't be a problem.

It also effectively gagged him. As the subject discovered when he tried to speak.

Last, the scientist blindfolded the subject and put headphones over his ears.

The subject, with nothing to see, hear, or do, fell asleep.



Image from FeelingKnotty Twitter

When he woke up, he was no longer in the lab in the city, but rather in a strange barn an hour and a half away.

His blindfold and headphones had been removed, but the rest of his bondage remained. His eyes darted around as he scanned his predicament.

He was bound in his sleepsack, in the middle of a barn, gagged and plugged. All around him men were tied up. They struggled and screamed muffled cries for mercy. Some were getting fucked, others being tortured. The scientist was nowhere in sight.

The subject started struggling. He fought against the sleepsack to no avail. He tried to yell for help only to have his cries muffled.

The scientist, watching the situation unfold on camera from the loft of the barn, smiled to herself. Pleasure wasn't the only emotion she was an expert on.

She turned the machine around the subject's cock on. It began slowly jacking the man off, stopping as it sensed he was getting close. The scientist minimized that tab on her computer - the device would work on its own, slowly edging the man over the course of the night, without any need of input from her.

Instead she turned to eliciting that other emotion she found so potent for the ritual.

Fear.

The mouth device that kept the subject’s airway open, suddenly closed. The man thrashed around, his air cut off. His entire body and brain screamed in distress. He was sure he was going to die.

Then the airway opened. He took deep, frantic breaths.

30 minutes later, right as he was reaching the edge, the tub closed again. He tried to remain calm -the tub had to open like last time- but 15 seconds in his body’s need for air overruled his mind. He pushed and tugged against his leather bonds, as every part of him shifted into oxygen deprived panic.

The tub opened again. The scientist chuckled to herself.

As the night went on, she’d occasionally surprise her subject with an unexpected moment of asphyxiation. Sporadic enough that he could never predict it. Long enough that it always brought him terror, and showed just how powerless he was - how his unseen assailant held his very life in her hands.

As midnight drew near, the scientist activated the plug. The subject suddenly felt a vibrating in his ass. It pushed against his prostate, giving him a sensation he'd never felt before.

Terror, confusion, arousal. The subject couldn't have been more overwhelmed.

Experiment successful.

***
While the other men focused on edging their captives, the Vengeful focused on hurting his. He was certain that the months he'd kept the Punished from cumming would suffice.

Since midnight the previous day - when he'd been betrayed - the Punished had remained in this barn. All morning he'd been hogtied, talked over, and gawked at by the Vengeful and Annastasia. Whenever they felt he'd gotten too comfortable in his bonds, his captors would shorten the length of rope connecting his cuffed hands to his ankles, forcing him to bend more.

It had been brutal. When they finally untied him to switch positions, every muscle in his body was sore. He couldn't fight them as they pushed him into a horse stall, forced him to lie down flat, face up in the mud, and tied his limbs off to bolts in each corner in the room.

If he hadn't been so cold, so itchy, so stretched out he might have been able to sleep. But the subtle torment of his conditions forced him to stay painfully awake and aware.

Finally evening came. By now, the Punished knew better than to fight when the Vengeful untied him and brought him to his next instrument of captivity.

In the back corner of the barn was a St. Andrew’s cross. Attached to each corner was a leather cuff. The Vengeful forced the Punished’s wrists into the cuffs and locked them shut. He likewise secured his ankles so he was standing in a vertical spread-eagle, facing the X-frame. The Vengeful gagged his prisoner with a leather hood. He wanted to hear his screams, but he didn't want to bother the other hunters.



Image from GearFetish.com

When the ritual began, the Vengeful took out a flogger. With increasing power he whipped his captive, leaving bright red lines across the man's back. Every set of beatings varied in duration - he didn't want his victim to be able to guess when he’d get a reprieve - but without fail the last hit was always the hardest, leaving a sting that carries over until the next whipping.

Eventually the Vengeful decided the victim’s back needed a break.

He reached around the Punished midsection and clipped two clamps to his victims nipples. The Punished whined, then tried to shuffle himself to throw the clamps off.

As punishment for trying to avoid his punishment, the Vengeful tazed the poor man. He screamed, thrashed around, bumping himself on the hard wood of the X-frame, before slumping down to catch his breath. Once the pain from the taser had subsided, the growing pain from the clamps became apparent again.

As the clock approached midnight, the Vengeful started tazing his captive for fun.

The Punished sank deep into the depths of suffering and helplessness. Each whipping, pinching, and shocking worked to ensure every neuron in his brain sent a distress signal through his body.

Then, five minutes to midnight, the pain stopped.

The Vengeful stopped hurting him. He let him catch his breath.

The reprieve in itself was glorious. Simply not being harmed now brought him so much pleasure, so much relief.

Then, he felt his captor unlock his cage. His dick grew. Not from attraction. Not even really from fear. Rather from a need, a need to experience arousal, a biological need to cum that had been denied for months on end.

The Vengeful started jerking the Punished off.

To a man so deprived, so beaten down, the three minute handjob felt like the greatest sex he'd ever had.

***

In the center of the room, enjoying what he believed to be an fun -if intense- gathering of kinky friends, was the Volunteer.

Like the Punished, he'd been tied in a standing X-postion. Unlike the Punished his restraints were tied off to posts far above and beside him. Also unlike the Punished, he couldn't be have been happier to be there.


Image from JockRigger Twitter

The Mayor stood in front of the bound volunteer. He caressed his body, which sent a shiver down his captive’s spine. Then he stepped behind him, reached around and grabbed his hard cock.

“Have you ever been edged before?”

The volunteer shook his head.

“Ever had a ruined orgasm?”

Again, he shook his head no.

The Mayor smiled, then got to work.

With his years of experience, the Mayor was practically a professional at bringing curious, inexperienced subs to the brink of orgasm. He let the wave of pleasure grow, then suddenly pulled his hand away. As his frustrated sub caught his breath, whimpered, and thrust pitifully into the air, the Mayor gently caressed him, focusing his fingers on every erogenous zone EXCEPT the man's dick.

An hour in, the Mayor brought him right to the edge, further than before. The volunteer’s eyes rolled back, he pushed forward.

Then at the last moment, the Mayor let go of his dick. Cum dribbled out of the bound man's cock, but he felt no release. Only a resuming of that brutal sexual frustration the Mayor was so good at invoking.

A few minutes later, the edging and teasing began again. The volunteer couldn't have been happier or horniner. He melted into a mindless mess.


The clock ticked closer to midnight. The Mayor gave everyone a one hour warning. Then 30 minutes. Then 10.

5
4
3
2
1.

[blackbound]

So close (literally!)

Surely the ancient powers will be placated by this showing, but the town better hope they don't require a continuous escalation...

Just a heads-up: one of your images seems to not be displaying.

[CaptiveDan]

So close (literally!)

Surely the ancient powers will be placated by this showing, but the town better hope they don't require a continuous escalation...

Just a heads-up: one of your images seems to not be displaying.

Ooh thanks for the heads up on the picture!

You gotta love the law of diminishing returns - always gotta one-up the last year

[CaptiveDan]

Climax
The moon reached its zenith in the sky, hitting just the right angle to shine through a small crack in the very top of the barn. Moonlight streamed inside, illuminating the full scope of intense debauchery on display for a single, critical minute.

The Mayor stroked his Volunteer’s cock, gripping it tighter, picking up speed. The volunteer moaned and shook. He clenched his fists and started thrusting his hips as much as the ropes would let him.

“Please…” was the only intelligible word he could manage. The Mayor smiled and obliged. He brought his guest to the brink, and this time kept going.

The volunteer, one of the few ungagged men in the barn, screamed in delight. He came powerfully, shooting his load a good three feet from him. He kept cumming into the Mayor's hand for a solid minute before the orgasm was over.

A good harvest indeed.

***

Likewise, the Punished had turned to putty in the Vengeful's hand. He would never have wanted the man who'd kept and tortured him to be able to drive him this crazy. He couldn't believe he found himself desperate to cum by his tormenter’s hand.

But he hadn't cum in months. And those months built and built, leading to this very moment.

He closed his eyes and imagined he was fucking some beautiful woman. He imagined he was free.

And for a moment, as he came for the first time since his capture, the fantasies felt real.

A minute of ecstasy after a perpetual eternity of suffering.

The ancient powers accepted both offerings. His pleasure and his pain. Neither given by choice.

***

The Scientist’s subject was perfectly on track for a colossal orgasm of his own. As the butt plug and cock device brought him closer and closer, he almost let himself ignore his situation and just focus on how good his cock and ass felt.

But then, as the Mayor gave his ominous announcement, as the moonlight shone in the barn, his air cut off.

Dread.

He convinced himself that this time the airway wouldn't open back up. That these sick people were going to kill him as a finale to the ritual.

Terror.

He thrashed around, not that he thought it would do anything. But he had to try. His body had to fight for his survival.

Acceptance. He was going to die.

It was only at that moment, as suffocation seemed a foregone conclusion, that the machine let him cum.

At the same time, the airway opened back up.

A deep breath, and an overpowering orgasm. The relief of finally cumming amplified by the tremendously relief that he could breathe again, that was going to live.

The Scientist congratulated herself on a job well done.

***

Muffled cries of pleasure and involuntary moans echoed through the barn. Every man cumming in rapid succession in this one powerful minute. The basest human desire expressed in its most debased and carnal form.

The unlucky driver, the pornstar, and the traveler hadn’t asked for this. They hadn't wanted this. Yet the hours of edging had hijacked their minds. More than anything, more than freedom, or an explanation, or payback, they wanted to cum.

And they got what they desired.

***

The Master didn't touch his gimp’s cock. He didn't need to.

For hours the Gimp had pleasured the master, sucking his dick as he had many times during his tenure as his prisoner.

As the ritual reached its peak, the Master waited for the perfect moment to cash out those months he spent establishing total control over his captive.

The Master reached his own climax and commanded.

“Cum for me.”

As the master shot his load down the obedient Gimp’s mouth, a shiver ran down the gimp’s spine. Involuntarily, at his master’s command, the neurons in the gimp’s brain fired in unison. With no hands, mouth, or ass - no physical stimulation at all - the master forced from his Gimp an orgasm like no other.

The feeling washed over the Gimp’s whole body. He came like he'd never cum before. Every part of him, his mind, his body, his cock, obeyed the man who'd kidnapped and trained him.

At his master's command, he felt pleasure unlike anything he'd ever felt before.

***

While the kidnapped men were feeling that primal biological release, the husbands were sharing in a bliss much deeper. The winner fucked his husband now without breaking momentum, without holding back. As he got close, he reached around and grabbed his lover's cock.

His husband was tied down, not because he wouldn't have willingly let the winner fuck him, but rather because he trusted his lover to give him exactly what he wanted… what he needed. He could surrender control, let himself turn submissive and helpless, and know his husband would use that submission to both of their benefit.

The ancient forces who demanded the ritual accepted this offering of submission, of trust, of love.

The two joined together, passionately fucking like they were the only two people in the barn, the only two in the world.

The winner pushed his cock deep inside his lover, and finally, he and husband came together.

***

The motel guest got more than he could have imagined.

The way the assistant fucked him: aggressive, selfish, controlling - it was everything he'd been missing. It had taken being tricked and tied down for him to experience the kind of sex he'd always wanted. Only when control was taken away from him could he finally indulge those base desires he’d held for so long.

As the assistant fucked his captive, the manager straddled the guest in a 69 position. He shoved his own dick into the guest's mouth, and then opened his mouth and took the guest's cock.

They sucked each other’s dicks as the assistant plateaued. He adjusted his angle just the slightest to hit the guest's prostate.

Within seconds, the guest came, shooting down the manager's throat. The manager came right after. The guest swallowed what he could, then let the rest of the man's cum run down his cheek. As he caught his breath, he felt the assistant cum deep inside his ass.

As he laid there, tied up, exhausted, filled with cum, all the guest could think about was how he needed to do something like this again.

[blackbound]

And what a climax it was! Is anyone not getting released after their release?

What a hot and sexy story.

[CaptiveDan]

Is anyone not getting released after their release?

Here's you answer to that!

[CaptiveDan]

Release
The motel guest spent the night back at the motel room, this time not tied up. He cuddled with the manager and his assistant. He got some of the best sleep of his life.

It was noon before the three finally decided to get out of bed.

The assistant gave the guest his number, and said he should swing by from time to time. The manager promised he could stay in the motel for free if he agreed to be tied up for his stay.

Despite living two states away, the guest assured them he would absolutely take them up on their offer.

He thanked them both for a great night and drove home.

A few days later, he got a text message with an attached file. Pictures of him tied to the bed. He had everything he needed to dive in.

After a quick pause to reminisce and jack off, the guest got to work. He created a Recon and Switched profile, uploading the pictures, hoping other men would see and decide they wanted to take him prisoner too. He spent the whole afternoon obsessively checking the apps.

A message, someone interested! The guest took a deep breath and responded - entering the world of kink that excited and scared him so much.

***

The Trucker returned the Pornstar the same way he'd delivered him. He drove him home, in his cage, then brought the covered cage into the house.

“Well, I'm going to be leaving now.” The Trucker said, “don't worry, I'll call someone to come unlock you once I'm a state away.”

Sure enough, a few hours later, the cops arrived, found the door unlocked, and found the hunk cuffed in the cage.

With the help of bolt cutters, they got him free. He told them everything, which was unfortunately not close to enough to even begin a search for this man. He had no name, no location, no license plate. His police informed him it was unlikely his kidnapper would ever be found.

His one lead, the livestream of him being electrocuted, was pulled from the internet - no way to find the original poster. Unfortunately saved clips of his torture had been re-uploaded many times by fans. He wondered just how many people had seen the video.

He got his answer the next day at work.

His director walked him to the room he'd be filming in. They made small talk, as usual, but as they reached the door, the director turned to the pornstar and said in a very serious tone.

“I don't know how or why you filmed yourself caged and electrocuted,” the director said, “But a lot of people have seen that video, and a lot of people want a sequel.”

The director opened the door. Inside the room was a dog cage, a camera, and a tens device.

***

After the ritual, the Traveler was knocked out.

When he came to, he was inside his car, groggy and disoriented.

He stretched out, then hesitantly stepped out of the car to inspect it.

Not only was his flat repaired, but he had all new tires. He quickly got back inside and locked the door.

In the passenger seat was a note.

“Got you some new tires, changed your oil and wiper fluid, did a few other minor repairs. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

The Traveler was in shock. Who were those people? Why had they kidnapped him?

He drove to the spot he'd first found their trailers, careful to keep the doors locked. He wanted answers, he wanted some form of retribution.

But the trailers were gone. No sign they were ever there.

The Traveler shook his head. What the fuck?

He decided to keep driving. Some stones are better left unturned. Some mysteries are better kept mysterious. He was alive and free, best keep his head out of anything that could jeopardize that.

***

“Hey babe,” the winner said, holding up a small speedo, “time to change.”

The loser reluctantly stripped, “What is it this time?”

“Fred is having a pool party,” the winner responded, “wants a hot pool boy to tie up and be entertainment”.

“Come on, haven't I done enough this week?” the loser said, though he was already putting the skimpy swim briefs on.

“Not my fault you lost,” the winner said, “you should be happy you're so popular.”

The loser looked at himself in the mirror, his ass and cock clearly outlined in the tiny red speedo. His husband came up behind him and kissed him on the cheek.

“You look hot. I can't blame everyone for gawking at you.” The winner grabbed the loser’s bulge and squeezed, “and don't worry, the parade is next week, you're almost done.”

The two had decided the 4th of July parade would mark the end of their winner-loser dynamic, at least until the next ritual. To go out with a bang, the loser would be tied up and led through the town by his husband, and then tied to the flagpole outside the bar. The other gay men of the town would have one last day to enjoy domming the loser before he was once again off-limits.

“Yeah, I guess it's not too bad.” The loser said, as his husband began tying his hands behind his back. “Can you do me a favor though? Can you gag me, I really don't want to have to make small talk at this party.”

“Absolutely!” The winner said. He gave his husband one last kiss and gagged him with the red ball gag he had already planned to use before his husband asked. Truly, great minds do think alike.

***
The cop returned the unlucky driver's things to him. He drove him blindfolded back to his car, to ensure he didn't know the location of the cellar that had been his prison.

“I used some of your p.t.o so you wouldn't be fired for your absence.” The cop explained, “I feel bad about taking so many of your days though, so I pulled some favors and got falsified records that state you have jury duty for the next two weeks. I suggest you take this free vacation - you've earned it.”

“Thank you?” The driver said, but truth be told he didn't know how to feel. It was nice he was getting some time off, but he didn't think it was really a fair exchange for his week of imprisonment.

The cop’s tone got scarily serious, “Don’t tell anyone what happened here. I'm serious. Not cops, not friends, not the news. No one.”

“What- I-”

“Shut up and listen.” The imposter cop continued, “If you tell anyone anything about this past week I'll know. I'm tracking your phone, I know where you and your friends and family live. I have access to all your personal accounts and information. If I get so much as a hint that you talked to anyone about this, I'll find you, kidnap you, and keep you in my jail cell for the rest of your life. Understand?”

The unlucky driver nodded, he didn't doubt the cop for a second. He was sure the cop wouldn’t hesitate to act on his threats.

The cop dropped him off at the intersection he'd first arrested him.

“You're free to go. Don't tell a soul.”

The unlucky driver - happy to be free and terrified of the threat of a lifetime in ‘jail’ - reluctantly obeyed the imposter cop.

***

The subject woke up still in the sleep sack. Immediately he began struggling and trying to shout for help.

The Scientist ran over to him and quickly removed the device from his mouth.

He started shouting, demanding answers, calling for help.

With all the tact, patience, and deception she could muster, the Scientist convinced her subject that he had simply had a nightmare. She explained the concept of sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and night terrors, and helped him come to the conclusion that sleeping in bondage must have activated that. She apologized that his experience with the study had been so negative but offered to compensate him for his time and stress. To alleviate the last bit of doubt in his mind, she showed him a video of him sleeping in the sleepsack - secure in the lab throughout the night.

That video had of course been of a different person in the sleepsack she’d filmed a few days earlier. Covered as they were, the subject couldn't tell it was a different man in the sleepsack. He accepted the Scientist’s explanation and apologized for freaking out.

The Scientist released her subject and paid him for his time. As he was about to leave she passed him a number on a piece of paper.

“If the nightmares continue, I recommend contacting him,” She said, “he's a doctor, psychologist, and old friend. He can help you work through your fears.”

The subject thanked her and left the lab.

A few days later her friend texted her a picture of the same Subject tied down to a bed.

“Thanks for the new patient! He seems to be taking well to therapy.”

***

The Vengeful had injected the Punished with the knock out drug right after he'd cum.

The Punished woke up back in the cage he'd been “rescued” from over a day again. His fists were back in mitts. The head harness once again gagged him. The cage was padlocked closed as always.

“We’re supposed to let our tributes go,” The Vengeful said, “but there was just too much atoning left to let you go just yet.”

The Punished whimpered into his gag. He looked at his captor with sad, begging eyes. His fear and hopelessness doing nothing but encourage the Vengeful.

The Vengeful left him alone in the cage and looked at his calendar. His intent was to keep his victim for 9 months total - as a karmic punishment for his abandonment of the Vengeful’s pregnant friend.

The Punished had served nearly 5 months of that sentence. That left 4 months of bondage, mind games, and punishment the Vengeful would have to plan.

Eager and dedicated, the Vengeful got to work.

***

“So how was it?” The Mayor asked.

“Oh, so incredible” the Volunteer responded, “thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for coming, you're welcome back anytime.”

“Before I go,” the volunteer said, “I had some questions about this town.”

The volunteer asked many questions, and the Mayor answered many. He talked about the town's reputation as a gay haven, a sexually free place, and a hotspot for kinky people. He talked about how common bondage and sex were, and how much of a culture had developed around townspeople capturing each other.

The only questions he didn't answer were about the ritual.

“If you want another taste of our little town, come back to visit the last week of July” the Mayor said, “I'm putting together a little competition, and I think it would be right up your alley.”

The Volunteer said he'd be there. As he drove away, the Mayor thought there was a very good chance the town would soon have a new resident.

***

The Gimp, free for the first time in months, walked through the crowded streets of San Francisco.

It was strange, being around so many people. Being able to choose what he wanted to do, and go where he wanted to go.

The master had given him $50,000 to get his life back on track. He'd also informed him that he was a fairly big name in the tech industry, and offered to get the Gimp any cushy office job he wanted. He'd write a glowing recommendation letter espousing the Gimp’s work ethic and obedience.

The freed Gimp thought about taking him up on that offer. He also thought about turning him into the authorities, or suing him for all he was worth.

Ultimately he did neither.

For whatever it was worth, he couldn't fathom having the master arrested. Be it Stockholm syndrome or months of conditioning, he couldn't bring himself to call the cops.

He got his life back on track. He reconnected with friends, went out partying, took trips, lived free life to the fullest. He had frequent hookups, masturbated whenever he wanted, and eventually started getting back into bondage.

He often fantasized about his time spent as the Gimp. He sometimes even thought about calling the master up and volunteering to be put back into that life. But after jerking off and clearing his head, he always came to the same conclusion: Having lived the reality, he preferred to keep it memory, to enjoy the fantasy without having to relive true enslavement again.

He was happy being tied up for a few hours and released. Real enough he got the rush of adrenaline and feelings of hopelessness, but short enough he could go back to his daily life.

Eventually he found a boyfriend. They were happy together. Life was good.

He told his boyfriend about his time as a Gimp. To his surprise, his partner hadn't been upset.

“Don't you want revenge?”

The freed gimp explained he couldn't bring himself to call the cops on the master.

“No, no, don't YOU want revenge.”

The two decided on a plan. They drove out to the small town he'd spent more than half a year of his life. He tied his boyfriend up, and led him to his old master’s doorstep.

The master, surprised, opened the door.

“I brought your next tribute.”

The master was in shock. He smiled and tried to form a word. His prodigal Gimp had returned, and more, was eager to throw both himself and others into this wonderful world of bondage.

“Come in,” the master said, “let's get him properly restrained.”

No sooner had he closed the door before his old Gimp grabbed his wrists. The master had a no chance to react, before the Gimp's “Offering” pulled free of his intentionally loose bonds and joined in overpowering the surprised master.

The past Gimp and his boyfriend wrestled the master to the ground. With much effort they forced him into one of his own straitjackets and gagged him with one of his own head harnesses. For good measure, the past Gimp locked ankle cuffs on his surprised former master and connected them with a padlock.

The boyfriends kissed and stood over their captured prey. The past Gimp felt a rush of power standing over the man who had once had so much control over him.

The boyfriends left the old master squirming on the floor, as they loaded up all his restraints, leather, cages, gags, sex toys, and other kink equipment into the back of their uhaul. The conquered master watched in horror as they discussed all the different ways they planned to use his own bondage devices against him.

Last they threw him into a small cage and secured it into the back of their uhaul. As they drove away, the man who'd spent seven months as a Gimp took his conquered master's phone and texted his many contacts.

“Going on a bondage vacation. Be back in 7 months.”

It would be a challenge to keep the conquered master prisoner in his and his boyfriend’s small townhouse. Thankfully he had plenty of experience on the other side of the ropes that he could draw from for inspiration, and now plenty of tools at his disposal.

Yes, keeping his old master as his own personal Gimp would be a challenge, but he was sure he could do it.

After all, he'd learned from the best.