I was not to go into the house, the instructions were clear on that. The adjacent building however, would be unlocked twice a day for visitors.
Nervous, intrigued, and excited, I opened the door to the brick building.
Inside, just as promised, was a naked man. He was standing up against a St. Andrews cross, his wrists and ankles locked in cuffs that forced him spread-eagle. In his mouth was a thick rubber gag.
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On a table by the door was a note. It laid out the limits for this sub. No breath play, no anal sex, no scat. Also on the table were some tools I could use on him if I so chose. Last, there was an envelope marked simply “for the brave, the curious, or the merciful”.
I picked up the envelope. The bound man became vocal again. He nodded his head up and down, begging me with everything but words. I knew why, I knew what was inside the letter.
And I was considering it.
But first, some fun.
I took a set of nipple clamps and a wax candle off the table and sat the envelope down. The prisoner whined and started shaking his head. Too bad, he has no way of stopping me. Applied the clamps. I knew from experience it would take a while before they started to hurt.
In the meantime, I lit the candle and held it over his chest. He shivered and braced as the hot wax looked up in the candle. Then, once the anticipation had built, I tipped it over onto him.
He cried out as the hot wax ran down his bare skin. I poured more and more, over the course of a good 15 minutes. He struggled, screamed, and tried to pull away. All to no avail. I basked in his suffering. Fuck it felt good to hurt this helpless man.
When the candle was spent, I decided to focus on nipples. I tugged on the chain between the clamps. Another beautiful scream. I released the chain, and ran my fingers along his naked body. Apprehension at first - I saw him tense up - followed by surrender to the gentle sensual touch. I worked my way down to his hard cock.
I played with his dick and balls, running my finger along the length of his shaft, then tickling the sensation underside of his balls. He moaned for more. I pulled away.
I grabbed the chain, and this time pulled ever so slowly. He arched his body forward to alleviate the tension, but that only strained his arms and back. Eventually I pulled the clamps far enough he couldn't stretch any more. He yelled again into his gag. Only when I was sure he was on the verge of tears did I let go.
I spit in my hand, then returned to his dick.
I edged the poor captive for awhile, and then, rewarded my good little torture toy with an orgasm. He shot his load in a high arch. Who knew how long he'd gone since his last orgasm.
I took the clamps off his nipples and massaged them. I tousled his hair, then walked back to the envelope on the table. The prisoner’s eyes perked up again as I read the letter.
The letter re-explained everything I’d seen online. It served as a reminder, a confirmation, a form for consent, and a final unchangeable decision.
Do you leave the shed a free man, able to return for more fun at any time?
Or do you take the prisoner’s place?
The duration of your imprisonment would be unknown. You would remain in some form of captivity until the next guy came along and chose to take your place.
In addition there is no option where both you and the current captive leave as free me. If you release this prisoner now, the warden in the house next door (who monitors everything on cameras in the shed), will remotely lock the door to the brick dungeon from the outside, trapping both of you in until one man is restrained.
And finally, to further the uncertainty, the key at the bottom of the envelope releases everything except the current prisoner’s gag. You will have no chance to ask him how long he was tied, to beg him to come free you in a few days, or to ask if he regrets his decision. You will take his place never truly knowing what you're getting into.
At the bottom was a checklist of limits. When other men came to visit you they could do anything on the list you hadn't specifically marked as a limit. Once your imprisonment began, there would be no changing your mind.
I thought about the choice. I'd been thinking about it for days now. It seemed so exciting, so fun, so intense. A kind of true bondage I craved and coveted. And yet, it was terrifying. I would have no knowing and no say of when I would be free. Twice a day I could be visited and abused by random men. Not to mention the great unknown of what my other 22 hours a prisoner would be like.
A reasonable person would have left the shed. But something deep within me pulled me to take the leap. To relieve this poor captive of his suffering and take his place. To trade my freedom for his.
To become Atlas.
I marked my limits and signed the consent form. I took the keys and walked over to the prisoner. His eyes lit up. He nodded and begged me with grunts and whimpers. I released his wrists and ankles. He immediately hugged me - the stranger that had freed him. He held me tight, then looked me in the eyes.
I handed him the wrist cuffs. He didn't give me a second to change my mind before he locked them on me and secured my wrists to the X-Cross. Any amount of thankfulness he has was secondary to his rush to finally be free. He locked my ankles as well. I was now officially trapped until the next stranger took my place.
I was now Atlas.
The prisoner unzipped my jeans and held his hand to my mouth. I interpreted his facial expression. An offering. A thank you.
I spit into his hand. He pulled my dick through the fly of my briefs. He jacked me off, bringing me slowly to the brink of orgasm. He cupped my balls and held my dick firm as I shot my load up and into his waxed chest.
Then he left.
And as the door to my new prison closed behind him, I read a look on his face. A look of pity.
How long had he been here? What has he endured? How long would I be here?
What had I gotten myself into.
