By FirefighterSir

After the weekend when Jax and his drone had appeared unexpectedly at the camp, grunt’s life had passed back into routine. The young blond muscle jock had departed after grunt’s punishment whipping and there had been no other visitors.

Days passed quietly, waking at dawn as cool pine-scented air filtered down through the forest. Preparing the Captain’s gear and food for the day, opening the gate when he drove off to a chorus of barking dogs, turning to the list of chores left behind. Each item was assigned a time limit, and grunt’s day was dictated by the clock and by the shifting patches of shade he took advantage of to leaven the heat of the summer sun.

Each evening the Captain would return in a rumble of truck tires on the steep dirt road. The dog pack would stir and begin to bark and howl, jumping around eager for attention. The slave would already be waiting at the gate, and it would swing away at the precise moment the truck turned into sight. Then grunt would stand momentarily at attention, head bowed as the bearded master opened the driver door. Often he would briefly acknowledge the slave and indicate items such as fresh food to be fetched out.

For the Captain, his attention would focus on the hysterics of his animals for the next several minutes even while he pulled off his clothes to relieve the heat. The summer days were hot and long and by the end of each, the Captain would be soaked with sweat, hot, dirty and fragrant.

Captain attended to his motley pack himself and grunt knew to just stay in the background to catch things tossed aside as the Master lavished attention on his pets. Fresh cold water would be summoned with a gesture of his hand, and a roaming critical eye was to be feared since the Captain was particular and demanding. A wilted patio pot would mean a lash of the whip, a dirty glass catching the light on his dinner table might mean a night in the cage.

After the dogs had been dished out their dinners by the Master personally and the last bit had been licked up eagerly, he went back to the truck. Having tossed aside his sweat-soaked shirt, he opened the back door and hefted out a heavy package and slung it over his shoulder. The package had legs and arms and boots and a head. It was geared in dark blue ripstop tactical clothes, not unlike those worn often by the Captain and the package grunted through the ball gag in its mouth as the Captain manhandled it and dropped it on the ground.

Grunt knew the Captain’s dinner was nearly ready to be served, but the new arrival disrupted the evening schedule. The Captain had motioned for water and was now pouring cool liquid past the gag of his new prisoner. The prisoner sputtered and gasped before the gag was cinched tight again. The Captain hauled the bound man up, repositioned the body on his shoulders and climbed up the grassy bank into the woods without a word to the grunt.

The sounds of boots in the dry leaves could be heard out of sight among the trees, then silence. After about 10 minutes a loud muffled groan could be heard then the booted feet stomping back through the trees. The Captain emerged alone, washed his hands at the tap, and dried them with the hand towel automatically offered by the slave. He sat down at the big trestle table under the trees and quietly ate from the plates soon arranged before him. He did not look up or offer any explanation of who that man was. The grunt dared not ask but his locked cock stirred painfully inside the chastity device and a tell tale wet spot soon formed in the crotch of it’s fatigues.

After the plates were cleared, the Captain gathered one of his bondage gear bags, his flashlight and a freshly poured drink. Again without explanation he climbed up into the dense trees surrounding the camp.

The sun was still above the mountains in the long summer evening and the lengthening shadow played across the numerous tree trunks creating lines of light and dark. Against one tree trunk, the shadows mixed with heavy ratchet straps cinched tight across the chest and lower legs of prisoner, securing him standing to the tree. These straps were in addition to the black leather belts at ankles, thighs, waist and chest. The gagged and blindfolded head sagged forward slightly but the prisoner stirred as he heard the approaching footsteps, he began to pant and groan.

The Captain pulled on his tight leather gloves and rubbed his hands over the bound man’s torso feeling his chest strain to breathe against the tight restraints. His hands rubbed down to the swelling bulge in the dark blue tactical pants. The prisoner moaned repeatedly and squirmed as best he could.

The Captain attended to the heavy straps binding the prisoner, testing their give and putting an elbow or knee where needed as his gloved hand pulled hard to take out any slack. The prisoner attempted to moan but he found the straps cut off his breath and his head slumped again but the stiff bulge in his pants stayed firm.

Just then the Captain heard a rustle in the leaf litter. He turned to find the grunt attempting to spy on the scene from just beyond the trees. Grunt’s curiosity had raged in his simple mind all evening and yet again it’s fatigues were wet with dick juice leaking from its locked cock. This offense had become too common for the slave. It must be broken of its willfullness.

The Captain eyed the slave calmly and motioned it forward, pulling yet another heavy strap from his bag. The slave ape-walked forward on all fours, its balding head bright red with shame. From his belt he unsnapped a small knife, leading the grunt’s eyes to the bulging dark blue fly on the prisoner’s pants. A quick grab and cut and the pants gaped open, the black jock strap pulled aside. The man’s hard-on stood straight up with a long glisteming streak dropping onto his boots.

The Captain pushed grunt’s head forward and it eagerly swallowed the dick meat. But the Captain had a punishment in mind. He whipped the leather strap around the tree truck and the base of the grunt’s skull, trapping its face buried into the prisoner’s crotch. The slave thrashed and gagged as he cinched the belt tight. The slave gasped and struggled but the swelling cock in its mouth gagged it and was pumping the hot wet hole in desperate release.

The Captain smirked and walked away, knowing the prisoner would be good for three or four loads. Later, after he had released the grunt from its duty, he dragged the limp prisoner back down into the camp. The grunt was washing out its mouth, gulping water while the Captain retied to prisoner into a simple hogtie with orders for the slave to check and massage the man’s arms and legs to check circulation during the night. For his part, the Captain laid down on his outdoor bed, under the arching trees, gathered his dogs to sleep with him, and breathed in the scents of forest mixing with lemon blossoms as he fell asleep with the occasional moans of his prisoner coming through the warm night air.

 

Metal would like to thank the author, FirefighterSir, for this story!

You can find FirefighterSir on Recon, Scruff and Daddyhunt. He is Sursir484 on Tumblr, and he is Campomontados on Instagram.