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Buying Love – The Admiral’s Origin Story: Part 03

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By Cutieboy90

Jonathan Silber observed the evacuation from the starboard wing of the Comte de Savoie.

“This will take 15 minutes,” Martin called out.

“That’s it?” Roger and Silber exclaimed.

“That’s it!” Martin shrugged. “The ship has linked their thoughts. They are evacuating in a calm, orderly fashion as a collective unit. With their injuries stabilized and the pain receptors blocked, just about everyone can go directly to their assigned cabins.”

“‘Just about’ everyone?”

“Yes… There are a few individual cases that require some attention.” Captain Savoie said as several red pinpoints flashed on the hologram elevation of the carrier. “But it’s nothing I can’t handle. We’ll be underway very shortly.”

 

Jake Jackson’s head pounded with the cacophony of echoes in the stairwell. He didn’t know which way was up. His body was numb from exhaustion and cold; he couldn’t even feel the railing he clung so tightly to. The past four days were just a blur, Jackson couldn’t tell if it had been four days, four seconds, or four weeks. It didn’t matter really, it was four time units of pure hell.

It all stopped suddenly. Jackson’s senses returned just enough to remind him where he was. Numb, clammy, and cold, head throbbing. He’d soiled himself, he’d been sick on himself, and he’d been alone in the dark the whole time. Squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he could, Jackson sobbed heavily, his own broken voice echoing back to him.

Heavy boots marched across the floor.

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Buying Love – The Admiral’s Origin Story: Part 02

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By Cutieboy90

Two decks down and 50 feet aft, Jake Jackson had been on an inside service stairwell on his way back from the storage room when he’d been thrown over the railing by the ship’s pitching. His cover had been lost in his fall. In the violent shuddering and ensuing darkness, the young marine had tied himself to the handrail with a couple of the belts he’d been carrying. Ear-piercing metallic crashing and rumbling echoed up the narrow stairwell, overwhelming and disorienting him. Sitting on the landing and clinging to the metal banister, Jackson prayed.

 

In the toolroom, Quinn-Timothy James had been slammed to the floor. He lost sight of Caleb Bradley behind a curtain of fire and a thunderous crash. He stayed down and waited for the lights to come back on. When they didn’t, he felt his way to the bulkhead and pulled himself up. He grabbed a flashlight out of the maintenance cabinet, its narrow beam of light revealed to him an unrecognizable scene of twisted chaos.

“Wha-?” James was speechless for a moment. The tool room… Was gone. Whatever the fuck he was looking at wasn’t anything. Just a huge, circular door. And the smell of burnt… Stuff. Or something.

“Bradley?” He called into the darkness. “Bradley??” James’s voice echoed in the tubular structure next to him. Where was Bradley? James felt his stomach and chest tighten. Now that his brain was catching up with his eyes, he realized what the circular doorway was. It was an engine exhaust cowling from one of the F-18s. The hangar was the deck above. The fire must have been an explosion!

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Buying Love – The Admiral’s Origin Story: Part 01

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Note: This is a final installment of “Buying Love,” and it is an origin story for The Admiral and a few other characters mentioned in Buying Love and Bro to Ho. This is a long story, and it will be presented in four parts. This story is a work of fiction that contains themes of peril involving a shipwreck. It includes bondage, chastity, gay sex, and male-on-male love. All depicted characters are over the age 18.

Buying Love – The Admiral’s Origin Story: Part 01
By Cutieboy90

On the patio of the Genoa Yacht Club – Genoa, Italy…

“Ahoy, Silber! We got a late one!”

Jonathon Silber smiled as he turned his binoculars toward the harbor. “Oh yes. Almost two hours, too.” He noted the time on his phone. “Odd for a line that has such a good reputation for punctuality.” He watched as the small freighter made its way to its dock, oily black smoke puffing from its funnel.

“Late, and in need of a tune up.”

“You’d have never let your diesels get that bad, Roger.”

Roger sighed. “Nope… My ships were always clean and spotless. My crews could eat their breakfasts off the engine room floors. God I miss those days.”

“Heh,” Silber gave his old friend a nudge. “Perhaps they’ll take you on as an inspector. Or maintenance supervisor.”

“And give up the joys of retirement!? Never!”

“Well then do shut up about the good old days, would you?” A chipper British accent said from behind. “I’d rather forget about the dinosaurs we had as pets.”

“Ah Nelson!” They looked up at their other friend as he set a heavy-looking case down.

“What’s this?” Silber nodded to the case.

“My monocular, of course.” Nelson said proudly.

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Roadtrip!

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By Cutieboy90

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, trying for the dozenth time in the same number of minutes to force himself to sleep. He tried not to toss and turn too much, though he couldn’t help it. Not five seconds later, Chris’s eyes flashed open, and his lips cracked back into a big silly grin. He looked to the clock on the nightstand, finding the time still too early to do anything.

With a whimper, the excited pup curled himself around his body pillow, his back to the clock. Next to him, sleeping cozily, was his boyfriend and owner, Brian. Brian was only a few years older, but had some salt and peppered hair, and a strong, beefy build. He was a playful, kind, but firm master, and a very loving boyfriend.

Yet another rush of excitement coursed through the boy’s body, his hard cock throbbing now too. Typically, Chris would spend the night in some form of restraints, in his cage next to the bed, or if he’d been naughty, on the floor. Tonight was the rare occasion he was allowed to sleep without any restraints, save for his collar, and Brian’s arms around him. Even his cock cage had been unlocked for the night, though Chris wasn’t allowed to cum. He still had his dogtail butt plug stuffed in his butt, which didn’t help anything. A night like this always meant something really amazing was about to happen…

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A Day on the Market

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By Cutieboy90

All they needed was for someone to hold the sign for the flower stall at the Sunday market.

But it’s never that simple, not with Master Skylar involved.

Mitch sniffed in mild discomfort as the cool morning air and flower pollen tickled his nose. He’d grab a tissue, and maybe some Claritin, but his hands were tied. Literally.

Locked in a bulky wooden yoke, Mitch couldn’t move his hands within two feet of his head. As if that wasn’t enough, his hands had also been locked into thickly padded leather mitts before being placed in the yoke. The mitts couldn’t even be accessed unless the yoke was removed, and of course the only person with the key to unlock the yoke was… Master Skylar.

“It’s for publicity,” Skylar had said. “Just stand on the corner for a few hours, get people’s attention, and they’ll come buy flowers.”

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A Day on the Farm

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By Cutieboy90

Come to the farm, they said.

The fresh air will do you some good, they said.

“And why the hell did I listen!?” Mitch huffed his annoyance through the wad of socks taped in his mouth. His breath visibly steamed in the crisp morning air. He glared watching each breath form and dissipate.

Mitch was pigtied with his wrists tied to his ankles in front of him. It forced him to curl up on himself and had quickly grown uncomfortable. The cold, hard ground he was sitting on didn’t help matters either. For now, Mitch rolled onto his back and stared up at the clouds. He figured by the light in the sky that he’d been bound for a few hours…

He’d been wearing boots, Carhartt overalls, gloves, a heavy coat, and a few layers of shirts expecting to be doing some farm work. Now all those rugged clothes hindered any chance he might have had to escape. The thick leather work gloves, for example, now as restrictive as any fistmitts he’d ever worn. His thermal undershirt squeezed his chest, pressing his piercings against his nips. Wired as they were, the irritation only served to make Mitch hornier and more frustrated than he already was.

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A Day on the Beach

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By Cutieboy90

male bondage stories Cutieboy90They said it would be a relaxing vacation. They said it would be several care-free days of lounging on the beach and soaking up some tropical sun. They never said Mitch would be doing any of that.

Mitch growled into the thick towel knotted in his mouth. His tongue was dry and his lips felt chapped from being stretched and cleaved by the towel for so long. At least the towel had been clean. He sighed in exasperation.

“Be grateful, Mitch,” he told himself as he chewed on the gag. This was the only movement he was allowed, though. The rest of body had been rendered immobile for several hours, having been buried up to his neck in sand. His friends had prepared by digging the hole in advance; all they’d had to do was manhandle Mitch into it in the dim light of dawn and fill it back in. They’d been sure to pack the sand down tightly around him.

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A Day on the Slopes

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By Cutieboy90

gay male BDSM fictionCome to Whistler, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Mitch grunted in frustration as he replayed the events of the last several days in his mind. He and his friends were avid skiers, so when they offered a week-long stay at Whistler, Mitch had of course taken them up on it. What he didn’t think about, though he now realized he should have, was payment. Mitch groaned. His body was sore. No, not from hours of black diamond runs, not at all. But from being left hogtied on the couch all day.

He was in his full gear, compression layers, long underwear, ski bib, a sweater, and parka. His thick socks, scarf, hat, and gloves were on too, as well as his goggles and boots. It looked hot as hell, and he certainly was. His hands were tied behind his back, with a simple chest harness. His feet were drawn up as tight as the thick layers of clothing allowed, and tied off to the harness. A rank sweaty sock had been stuffed in his mouth and tied in with another pair, compliments of his buds. The back of the gag was tied back to his boots, forcing his body into an uncomfortable arch.

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