By FirefighterSir

Jackson couldn’t help himself. The blond college footballer could feel his cock pressing against the silver furry belly of the hunky bearish sheriff deputy bound in front of him. He knew each move he made was being felt at multiple points on the officer’s body, but his cock was raging to cum!

Jax pumped his crotch slowly against the older man’s belly and could hear the other man moan since each move either made was felt where their balls and nips were locked together. As Jax flexed his abs, the clamps on his nips also pulled on the officers huge thick pecs. If Jax stretched out to relieve pressure his own pecs, the chain between each man’s nuts tightened.

But the flexing and pain only drove Jax more crazy, along with the moans coming from behind the gag of the bound deputy.

Jax’ dick juice was dripping freely and had matted down the silver hunk’s belly fur while that man’s own cock dripped equally. Both men hung there, stretched out, face to face, from their muscled arms.

Meanwhile, under the shade of the thick fringe of forest trees that completely surround the Captain’s compound, lunch was being served.

The Captain was still dressed in his black tactical pants, boots, and belt. Leather gloves laid on the table, his shirt pulled off to take advantage of the breeze filtering through the broad river canyon. The two captives hung not far away, sweating and flexing in the midday sun, occasionally struggling enough to send down a shower of leaves from the arching tree branch both hung from heavily.

He could easily hear their mutual grunts and panting, and despite having violated both men’s holes roughly, the Captain’s cock still swelled just from hearing their suffering.

He raised his hand slightly from the table, index finger pointing. The permanent slave rushed forward.

A plate of olives, hummus, cheeses, and raw vegetables was placed on the table, along with a fresh drink. The uniformed slave, dressed in desert fatigues, hastily retreated and moved to the phonograph on another table.  The slave carefully laid the stylus down and the scratchy notes of a Viennese waltz began to fill what was truly a surreal scene.

Two men bound and tortured attempting to dry hump the other while bound together, another man, shirtless, hairy, bearded, drinking and eating, obviously enjoying the spectacle, and one other man, if he could call himself that, taking it all in as the chattel slave observing the confusing world of it’s Master.

This scene could not be anymore removed from typical American life if had played out on Mars. The slave, called grunt, had never left this clearing since being collared and owned a few months earlier. In that time, living in this spot, which could be described best as permanent camping, grunt had learned about the serious consequences of talking with Doms online.

It was standing here, back sore from a punishment beating the night before, leather collar locked on, cock caged and hurting. But it was lean and stronger now than the day it had landed in Sacramento, its dreams were no longer troubled by thoughts of the office, divorce, debt. Even on the worst, chill nights, it was quiet here, with the stars moving brightly overhead. There was nothing to think about other than orders written on lists, hand gestures from the Captain indicating when it must fetch or carry. And being allowed to cum.

According to the slave’s reckoning, today was release day, and there were two muscled men who could be part of that experience.

Since being collared, grunt’s dick had been locked up. On the last Sunday of each month, the cage would be removed briefly and the slave would quickly clean itself, smarting since the skin is tender and sore.

Then the Master would lock the slave onto the table and the slave would endure a session of edging and milking until it’s small dick was raw and it’s nuts empty. Then the cage would be forced back into place for another 30 days. Not that it meant the end of grunt’s sexual use. The slave’s mouth and hole were to be clean and ready at all times for the urges of the Captain. Those urges were many but were also mixed with His demanding schedule in running this camp in the woods.

Today, even after the unexpected arrivals of the deputy sheriff and the younger muscle boy, grunt still had a long list of chores to complete. The slave had busied itself sweeping, polishing boots and buckles, even as the Captain forcibly bound the struggling deputy to the sling and raped him as his muffled moans filled the clearing. Then the surprise crash landing of the drone lead to another victim for the Captain to play with.

The slave had been eyeing the Captain’s glass and preparing another drink when grunt saw the Master stand up. The captives were now furiously struggling and heavy drops of cum fell into the dust from each man’s cock. The Captain pulled on the tight leather gloves and his right hand rose in an insistent signal. Grunt grabbed a silver tray and a large bottle of lube and ran to meet the three men. The Captain selected a dildo gag off the tray, lightly lubed it and strapped it onto grunt’s face. Grabbing it’s collar, he manuvoured grunt into position behind the older man, then pushed the slave’s head towards the deputy’s hole, sinking the dildo gag deep between the silver furred cheeks. The muscular bear bellowed and jerked as his sore hole was violated again. Jax began to struggle too, being pulled and stretched by the bonds between their bodies. The Captain drizzled some lube on his own cock and shoved it into the tight hole of the jock and pumped heavily enjoying the chorus of pain from both captives. It was not over for any of them.

 

Fiction by FirefighterSir on Recon

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Metal would like to thank FirefighterSir for this story!