As you probably remember my predicament, I am hogtied and gagged in the back of my Jeep Cherokee. My kidnapper, Rick, was in the driver seat. I tried desperately to reach the knots of the ropes that bound my wrist, ankles, and wrists to ankles. My fingers could not even reach the first knot. The duct tape wrapped around my head kept my dress sock securely in my mouth and prevented me from yelling for help. My other dress sock, which was used to blindfold me, kept me from seeing anything.
Rick began to talk to me from the front seat. He wanted to explain the the reason I was kidnapped and the role I was going to play for the next few days.
Rick reported that he and his cousin, who he referred to as Bear, has a business venture in which they provide sexual services for men with kinky desires. Most of their “clients” are rapists and molesters. Bear came up with the idea to cater to these sexual deviants. A couple of years ago, they were financially broke and desperate to make money. While doing home repairs for a wealthy Chinese businessman, they were asked to fix something in an upstairs playroom filled with dungeon equipment. The businessman said that it was unfortunate he had no “willing young men” to dominate. Rick and Bear said they could help in suppling “unwilling young men at a hefty price.” A deal was negotiated. They snatched their first victim, a young man who just completed Army boot camp, a couple of years ago and delivered the bound and gagged recruit to the businessman who spent hours raping this new recruit. Rick and Bear were paid thousands of dollars. Many other victims were provided and never did Rick or Bear heard anything in the news about young men being kidnapped for sexual purposes. What they discovered is men won’t report when they are victims of sexual assault because of concerns they will be perceived as weak, gay, or at fault. Most of the victims were tourist found in the New Orleans’ French Quarter…alone…drunk and in some cases, passed out. Later, Rick and Bear decided to use Internet dating sites for gay men to lure guys to a secluded area for romance or sex. Once the victim showed up, they were taken by force and transported to the businessman. For years, they worked directly for this businessman in providing helpless young bucks for sex until he moved abroad. In order to continue this business venture, Bear developed a website that could only be found on the dark web soliciting their services to other clients. Rick and Bear converted a hunting camp into a dungeon house with the bondage equipment left behind in the businessman’s house. They came up with a plan to use one victim over the span of two or more days to service multiple clients. Clients were transported one at a time while blindfolded so they would not know the exact location of the hunting camp and made to pay in cash before allowing them access to the merchandise. The cost depended on the time the clients needed to fulfill their needs. Rick bragged that he has made a fortune at the expense of the sexually abuse losers. He said a perk of his job was “being able to sample the merchandise.”
Rick said that once he felt confident we would meet, he posted my photo from Recon on their website which offered men “a chance to fulfill their sexual fantasies with this reluctant hot captive.” He said, “The response was overwhelming and to be fair, it was first come, first serve. These men paid good money and my job was to seduce you in the messages I sent you, get you to meet me and take you anyway I could, even if I had to knock you out. You, my friend, made it so easy when you invited me in your home. You fucking gorgeous bonehead. Also, Michael, age twenty-two, I got your wallet from your suit pants and now I know your name and date of birth. Do you understand the situation you were in right now? Let me explain. You are in a fucking dangerous situation. Our clients, who you are going to be obedient to, would love to severely hurt you and even kill you. Bear and I are your protectors. However, if you do not satisfy these clients, then I will wring your fucking neck. Where I’m taking you is deep in the bayou where no one will be able to hear you scream. If you try to escape and you are successful in evading us, you will be lost for days or likely wind up dead due to the dangerous conditions of the swampy terrain which is permanently saturated, or filled, with murky water. Don’t even get me started talking about the alligators and snakes you will encounter. If everything goes well, I will return you to your home in a few days and you can go on with your boring little life. Do you understand me?” I grunted which he took as an affirmative response. He then asked if I had any questions, and then simply chuckled and said, “Oh wait. You can’t speak so you can’t ask questions.”
My mind was racing. I’m going to be treated like a common whore. These men are going to sexually abuse me and if I don’t comply, I could wind up dead. I know I’ve always had a fantasy of being kidnapped, but I never thought about the danger. Regardless, I was starting to get aroused again and it was becoming uncomfortable in my crotch area as my penis begin to rub on the cargo liner as well as the pain I felt each time we hit a bump causing me to become temporary airborne and landing on my boner.
More than an hour later, the vehicle came to a stop. Rick opened the cargo door of my jeep, and immediately began untying the rope that secured my wrist to my ankles. I was pulled out of the vehicle, thrown over Rick’s shoulder, and carried off. As he was carrying me, Rick said the first client had already arrived.
As soon as I was carried over the threshold of some structure, he stood me up and removed my blindfold. It look like it was a three room building. The largest room, which was where I was standing, had all kind of bondage/torture equipment including a Saint Andrews cross, a bondage padded barrel horse, hanging stockade, standing cage, sex sling, multiple electronic winches attached to the ceiling, wall-mounted hangers and hooks used to hang gags, variously types of wrapped ropes such as hemp, climbing rope, etc., as well as closed cabinets. The door to my right must be a bedroom and I can see what I believe is a BDSM bed. (A BDSM bed is specially designed to support a whole host of restraints to keep someone locked in different positions.) Finally a small bathroom.
I looked toward a corner of the room and locked eyes with a man sitting in a chair. He must be the my first customer. Rick said, “Max this is Michael. Here are the rules. First, you cannot cause permanent damage to this guy since he has to be in good condition for other clients. Bear and I will be in a travel trailer just outside the door where we can monitor everything that is taking place in all three rooms.” He gestured to to cameras mounted to the ceiling and microphones strategically place throughout the rooms. He then said, “If you need assistance in restraining or moving him around or if he’s not complying with your wishes, all you have to do is request assistance and we will immediately come over. You have three hours. Before I leave is there anything that you need?” Max said he was good and Rick exited.
Max stood up and walked toward me. He was a small man, approximately 5’6”, late thirties or early forties, blond hair parted in the middle, piercing blue eyes, and a sharp angular face. He was wearing an expensive gray suit and black wingtip shoes. Overall, he was an attractive guy. He began caressing my face and said, “You’re a beauty. You look really good in the things that I picked out for you to wear today.” Now I get it. It was this guy who must have a thing for woman’s lingerie, not Rick. He walked back to the chair where he was sitting in and picked up a briefcase off the floor. He opened it and pulled out a studded locking posture collar which he immediately fastened around my neck. ( A posture collar is a rigid collar typically flare widely at the front to reach from the chin to the collarbone, preventing the wearer from hanging their head or looking downward.) Stainless steel D-rings were attached to the front, both sides and back of the collar. He then took out a leash and attached to the D-ring in the front of the posture collar. Max said, “Come on my pretty pony boy, let’s go for a walk.” With that he tugged the leash which caused me to almost fall over. I knew then I was going to have to hop since my bound ankles prevented me from walking. As he walked, I hopped behind him feeling my protruded bulge held snuggly in the pouch of the lace thong bounce up and down. The noise made by the stiletto heels hitting the wood floors sounded a slow galloping horse. He finally let go of the leash, grabbed a handful of hemp rope and walked into the bedroom. Max said, “Come on. Get your fucking ass to the bed!” Due to the fear of what would happen to me if I didn’t act in accordance, I began hopping in his direction. Max’s eyes were fixated on my bouncy package.
The BDSM bed was a metal window pain canopy bed with welded rings around the bed frame, including the four corners and multiple welded rings attached to the headboard, footboard and canopy. The walls and ceiling were mirrored. He turned me around so my back was to the bed and pushed me onto the bed. He rolled me over, dragged me to the middle of the bed near the headboard and untied my ankles. Max unlaced the booties and removed them. It was a relief to be out of those torture shoes. My feet were sweaty and I am sure had a musky order. Then he tied one end of each rope around an ankles, bent each leg, wrap the other end of ropes around each thigh, and then tied off the other ends. So technically, I am back in a hogtie with each of my heels almost touching my ass cheeks. The difference in this bondage position is that there is easy access to my anus. Max grabbed two more pieces of hemp rope, tied one end of each rope to a bicep and then secured the other ends to rings on each side of the bed frame. He made sure he pulled tight on both sides causing my bound wrist to lay on my lower back. The way I was confined, I was unable to relocate, roll over, or stretch.
Max then took off all his cloths except his grey thick-and-thin OTC nylon socks. His body was practically hairless except for a small patch of light blond pubic hair. He looked like a runner due his trim body and muscular legs. Max had a hammer penis, which is long and thin with a much larger head..lall the makings for a good nailing. Max’s average size balls were pink.
To my surprise, Max began massaging my feet. It felt good and I began unconsciously moaning. It started off as genial rubbing and then later, more like a deep tissue massage. Max said, “You have great feet. Nice arches. Plump toes. But I would have like them to be a little bigger.” Max straddled my back, facing my feet, and with his feet on the sides of my head. He placed his face in the soles of my feet and took in deep breaths.
Recently, I read an article about foot fetishism and it discussed how individuals with this particular fetish are sexually aroused by smelly socks or feet. I wondered if this guy was into feet and would spend the entire three hours worshiping my walkers. Max’s dick was swinging between his legs and a few time, dragged across my back and bound hands. After a few minutes, he moved behind me, sat on his heels, grasped my bound ankles and started sucking on my toes. Having my toes sucked, especially my big toes was pleasurable, probably because toes and feet are particularly sensitive, thanks to a ton of nerve endings down there. It is like a foot rub, but warmer and wetter. There must be a link between my feet and toes to my genitalia since I felt a tingling in my undercarriage. Next, Max sucked his own right middle finger, spit a wad of saliva on my butthole, and used his left index finger to hook the string of the thong. He moved the thin piece of fabric to the side and then begins touching my anus with his right middle finger. Max slowly inserted his finger all the way up my rectum as far as it would go. He did this while twisting his finger back and forth. It hurt like hell. Max said, “Wow! That is one tight boypussy!” His finger then pressed against my prostate gland, and to my delight, it immediately felt pleasurable. Max said, “How about I milk your prostate? Yea. I think I found that walnut. I bet you didn’t know about this sweet spot.” I looked over to mirror wall and watch him fingering me. My feet flexing with my toes pointed up when he made contact with my prostate and feet relaxing as he pulled away. I feel sticky prostate fluid oozing from the slit of semi-erect cock.
This pleasure was short-lived. Max initiated the tickling of the soles of my feet. I’m very ticklish and hate, hate, hate being tickled. I think Max really enjoyed the involuntary twitching movements and the muffled laughter. Tears ran down my face. Over and over, he fingered-traced on the pads of my feet and between my toes. The silky nylon of the hose made tickling worse. I begged, “Please stop, please. Ha. Ha. Ha. Oh. You had your fun, but please stop. This is torture. Ha! Ha! Ahhhh. I don’t understand why you are intentionally inflicting this suffering on me. What is the reason? Oohhh. Ow! Ha! Ha!” Max loved my muffled high-pitched complaining which sounded something like, “eehh uuuuhhh eehh ha ha uh mmmuuumm eehh ha ha ah.” The tickling became more vigorous. He made sure his fingernails went deep into the flesh, deep into those nook and crannies to extricate the purest of laughter…more begging….more tears. Max even attacked my helpless ribs with his fingernails.
After about an hour of this tickle torcher, Max decided it was time to do something different. He untied the hemp ropes knotted at my thighs releasing me from the modified hogtied, but left the ropes tied to my ankles. It was a relief to stretch my legs. Max stood by the bed and looked on with favor. In the mirror wall, I could see my reflection. My face was flushed and my body was drenched in sweat. I was physically and mentally drained.
Max order me to get on my knees which was not an easy task since my biceps were still tied to the bed frame. Once my hips were about ten inches off the bed, he pushed a small wedge pillow under my abdomen and pushed my buttocks down. Oh shit! Is he getting me in a fuckable position? He then took the free end of the ropes attached to my ankles, passed them through rings on bed frame on opposite ends of the footboard, pulled as hard as he could and tied the ropes. My legs were pulled apart as far as they could go. “Mmuuuufff.” My back door is now susceptible to physical attack. Max placed a flat pillow under my head.
Max left the bedroom and I could hear him rummage in the next room. I struggled against the bindings and realized I had limited movement with no way to loosen the expertly tied knots. “Mmuuuufff.” I was aware of the fact my bunghole was exposed and the string of the thong was irritating the sensitive anus skin. I studied my mirror image and started to fantasize that it was Max tied in this difficult situation and what I would do to him. I know I would enjoy watching myself penetrate his hole. I began humping the pillow. What a magnificent jiggling ass. Shit! Shit! Shit! Again, I am having these fantasies at the worst time!
Max returned and had a pair of surgical scissors in one hand and Elbow Grease Cream lube in the other and climbed between my legs. I watch him in the mirror pull and cut the string of the thong. I felt my freed balls bounce against the wedged pillow. “Mmuuuufff.” Max cut the waistband off the thong, pulled the fabric from underneath my body, held the ragged banana-hammock to his nose and inhaled. Max slowly tugged at his dick and it grew to about eight inches. Like a banana, his penis curved slightly upward. He then threw the thong across the room and starts applying lube to his slong. I felt cold lube squirted between my asscheeks and he mounted me. There was no attempt to loosen me up. Max thrust his angry red tip of his cock into my unspoiled boy cunt. I screamed in pain, as he continued to penetrate me with his slim dick. “Aaaaaahhhhhhhh! Uh. Uh. Mmuuufff.” Max was enjoying my physical suffering. Max said, “Tight boypussy. Oh yea. Making a boypussy juice cocktail up in there. Huummppfff. Fucking whore. I thought you would be loose since you let men fuck you all the time. Aawwwww. Maybe, I’m just the biggest you ever had. Huummppfff. Only one who could pack your pipe. Don’t fall in love with me. I’m too good for you. Fucking pickle sniffer.” He laid on my back and put his left forearm on my neck and wrapped his right hand across my duct taped mouth. He had no mercy in shoving his cock as far as he could and forcibly fuck me. Max also shoved in at angles which were meant to hurt, and hurt they do. I screamed…I try to make sounds to protest the rough treatment of my ass…it sounded like, “Aaaaaaahhhhhh. Uh. Uh. Uh. Uh.” I could feel his balls whacking my balls and could hear the light noise of a slap as our testicles connected…I could hear the moist crackle of anal friction. I could feel the ridge glan at the end of his upward curved cock catching my prostate, and every pleasure receptor that lined my rectum. Unintentionally, my rectal walls was rhythmically constricting around my rapist’s dipstick. I didn’t want this to feel good…I didn’t want my first butt fuck like this…I hate that this fucker will have the bragging rights that he is the one who defiled my virginal man cunt. As he was humping me like a dog, he whispered in my ear, “I bet you were a bully in high school just like those bullies who taunted me for being a gay nerd. We’ll look at me now. Successful and rich! I can afford to fuck you shitheads and there is nothing y’all can do.” What kind of sick transference is going on? I never bullied anyone.
Max forced my head straight into the pillow and and kept my head pinned with his forearm on my neck that was confined in the locking posture collar. His hand that held my face moved up to my nose and he pinched my nostrils. Max whispered, “I love breath play and I am now in control of when your allowed any sweet sweet air.” I began to panic. Is this how it will end for me? I tried my hardest to buck him off me, but the bindings limited my movements. Max seemed to enjoy my struggling. He said, “Aaaa Yea. Move that ass up and down.” To add to his pleasure, I was having sever involuntary spasms in my internal anal sphincter muscles, anal canal and pelvic floor muscles. I felt lightheaded. I was losing consciousness.
I heard a loud knock on the front door and heard Rick’s bellowing voice instructing Max to “stop the breath play” or he would end the session. Max said he would, but didn’t release my nostrils. Max’s body became tense and his dick was balls deep in me. I could feel the base of his penis contract every second for half a minute and jizz was forced out of his male organ in my rectum. He released my nostrils and I gasped for air. I began ranting and cussing him out, but all he heard was irate muffled noises. He slapped my ass, laughed and walked out of the bedroom. I could feel gobs and gobs of spunk leaking from my anus. I yelled as loud as I could, “You fucking little rapist. I’m going to kill you! As soon as I am untied….I’m going….I’m going….” Due to the gag, what Max heard was, “humm…uummm…ohhh…ohhh.” He yelled from the bathroom, “I know. I know. And you’re welcome. You have been bred by a stud. I know you want some more, but alas; my time is up. Loved that tight, and now red and irritated ballon knot. It looks good all slathered with my precious seed.”
Max returned and was looking at me as he was wiping himself with a damp washcloth. He said, “Yea. Take it all in. I bet you love my big bo dangler. Yea. You want to perform fellatio on my male sex organ…subserviently orally stimulating me with your lips, mouth and tongue. Yea. I will enjoy the suction pressure applied to my precious cock.” All I could think is that if he could see me hard…he would know what a real man’s dick looks like…if I fucked him, like he fucked me, he wouldn’t be able to shit for days.
Max dressed and left the hunting camp. Minutes later, I heard the front door open and Rick entered the room. He said, “You did good. Now, I am going to untie you, remove your gag, let you use the toilet, shower, eat and get some rest. You have a big day tomorrow. Remember, Bear is watching and if you try anything funny, he will be forced to come over and use a cattle prod on you.”
The entire time I was free, Rick was within a couple of feet of me. After I showered, I was given a white 3XL T-shirt and a pair of white skimpy briefs that fit snuggly. I was given a cheese sandwich and a glass of water. While I ate, Rick said not to worry that I was “barebacked” since all clients had to be tested for all sexually transmitted diseases and the recent results had to be provided as proof they “were clean.” Rick explained that he did not want to endanger his clients, as well as Bear and himself, with a “sexually transmitted infection.” Of interest, he did not mention any concerns of their hostages’ health.
Rick shared some information regarding Max. Due to his shitty ways, Max is likely to be as poor as a church mouse and lonely. His wealthy parents have disinherited him. Max lives way beyond his means including spending thousands of dollars for the services provided by Rick and Bear. When, not If, he loses his job; he will be broke. Rick said it is just a matter of time before Max is kidnapped by Rick and finds himself bound, gagged and being raped by clients who have a thing for a small and feisty nerds. Rick has taken verbal abuse from the little shit for years and Max refuses to follow the house rules. Rick is looking forward to the day to get his revenge…watching others torture him…having his chance to fuck his little booty chute while cutting off his breath supply…maybe with a clear bag over his head, taped around his neck…his hands cuffed behind his back. Rick described the scenario in which they would be in a squat position…Max will be on top position (cowgirl position) while Rick lays face up on the bed with his knees bent…Max will be forced to straddle Rick and squat down to achieve penetration…Max will have to get Rick’s cock head to pass through his small anal entry…lean backwards…place his cuffed hands on Rick’s knees…Rick’s knees acting as upward leverage…allowing Max to get deeper…achieving faster thrusts. Max will be made aware that the bag suffocating him will remain in place until Rick shoots his load in Max’s fart box, regardless if Max is conscious or unconscious. I began imagining Max vigorously bouncing up and down on Rick’s dry donkey dick...Max’s limp pencil dick and man marbles waggling up and down as well as side to side…all the while he is crying and begging Rick to remove the bag…telling him he doesn’t like breath control…asking Rick if he close to ejaculating…now…now…now…screaming for help. All the while, Rick just lays there, hands lightly around Max’s tiny waist, enjoying himself…happy about the anal carnage that Max is inflicting on himself…loving how his cock feels in Max’s rectum…his rectum is ribbed for Rick’s pleasure…feeling how good it feels to fill Max with his cock sauce…Max gaining momentum…it feeling like Max is giving Rick’s dick a warm handshake…Rick enjoying watching Max loosing consciousous…Rick holding on Max’s waist with a death grip…Max struggling to get out of the squatting position…wanting to unpeg himself from Rick’s hard schlong…poop soup leaking from Max’s leather cheerio…in slurred speech, Max asking why Rick is reneging on his promise…Max apologizing if he didn’t do good job…apologizing for not being a good boy…promising he can do better. In some weird way, this was delightful information.
Shortly after drinking the last of the water, I began to feel dizzy. Rick said, “You should be getting sleepy. There was a sleep aid in your water. It will help you get a good night rest and be refreshed to take on two clients tomorrow.” Rick helped me to the bed and I rolled onto my stomach. He used a pair of handcuffs to cuff my left wrist to a welded ring on the side of the headboard. To my pleasant surprise, Rick sat next to me on my right side and began stroking my hair and rubbing my back. Telling me that I was a good boy. I reached over and placed my hand on his upper thigh. I felt my crotch being fondled…my underwear being pulled down…the elastic waistband underneath my scrotum…he is massaging my penis tissues with his index finger and thumb…aahhhh…unable to move or speak due to my drug induced state…state of calmness, relaxation, and sleepiness. It was not long before I was sound asleep.
(To be continued…..)
