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Crag

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By POW

The story so far…

Elias is a male dom looking for a reluctant sub. Owen is a reluctant sub because he’s a straight sub.

NOTE: This is part of a much longer story called “Dr. “NOOOO!!!” — and this chapter has been slightly altered to suit the Metalbond site. For the full story, click here, but be forewarned that the complete story, especially the end, features a female dom. If you’re interested in primarily male-on-male action, try the chapter below, as well as chapters 3 and 8 on POW’s site.

 

Dr. “NOOOO!!!” chapter 7 – Crag

 

Crag isn’t quite a bar and isn’t quite a club. It’s more of a co-op based in what used to be a manufacturing plant for railcar parts in the old industrial area of town. The members pool their resources to have a shared space for play and equipment and they host public events like tonight’s once a month. I’m not a member, so I pay the high guest rate when I visit, which is not all that often. I tend to hang out at the bars farther north in Edgewater when I’m looking for leather companionship, but I’ve visited Crag a time or two before. Great atmosphere – huge high ceilings, big rooms to play in with echoey concrete walls in a lot of them. A good dungeon vibe. And unlike the Edgewater bars, the focus here was not on drinks or conversation, but on getting physical. The money the co-op brought in was not to make a profit for a business but instead got reinvested into either the space or the gear.

I was dressed in my best: black leather from hat to boots, tight in all the places I wanted to show off like waist, biceps, and thighs. Short-sleeved lambskin shirt under a zip-front vest (unzipped) with a jacket over top, also open at the front now that we were inside out of the chill. Hunter boots down below and a biker cap on my head and I was looking every inch the alpha top.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 11: Kappa Redulans

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By POW

Start at Chapter 1 by clicking here

There came a day when the routine changed.  By Sam’s count they were at nineteen strokes per minute when the first hint came wafting through the oarlocks: the smell of gunsmoke.  This was different but not different enough to merit Sam’s attention and so he remained focused on his rowing, pushing and pulling the long wooden handle back and forth.  But then there came voices: loud, shouting voices bellowing words Sam could not make out.  Louder they grew, and then other voices joined in, fainter and  more distant.  Fuck!  The Royal Navy had caught up with them, despite all their efforts to keep ahead!  Sam leaned into the oar even harder but after only a dozen strokes a great blow struck the side of the ship and suddenly there was no weight in Sam’s arms.

He stared dumbfounded at the stump of oar for long seconds before realizing what had happened: something, probably a cannonball, had blasted off the other end, leaving just the splintered wreckage in his hand.  Sam turned to his oarmate – whose name he still did not know after all this time – to see if he had any idea what to do, but the man was slumped over in his seat, leaning against the outer wall which, Sam suddenly noticed, had also taken some of the impact.  Cracks and fissures appeared where there had been none before.

Cracks and fissures in an ocean-going vessel’s hull were not good.  Not good at all.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 10: Keep Moving

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By POW

Voices erupted from the gallery.  The shabby small-town lawyer blinked as if blindsided, his face somehow managing to comically express both consternation that he wouldn’t need any of the arguments he had assembled and relief that they wouldn’t get eviscerated by his opponent.  The opponent, meanwhile, simply opened up his briefcase and started packing papers into it, just another day’s work, this one easier than most.  Bystanders in the courtroom gossiped with their neighbors; the deputies smirked knowingly at each other; the bailiff watched the judge for a cue what he should do.

The sheriff was the only one actually looking at Sam and the expression on his face was that of a cat eyeing a trapped mouse.  Sam met his eyes and stared, letting the clamor in the courtroom wash over him until Judge Jack banged his gavel on the bench.  “Order!”  The voices died down and calm settled once again over the courtroom.

“Let the record show that the defendant has pled guilty to all charges.  Sam Green, I hereby sentence you to hard labor, sentence to commence immediately and continue until restitution for your crimes has been made.  Sheriff, you’ll see to the details?  Dismissed!”  The gavel came down again.  Bystanders stood and began filing out; the maître d’ and the various Jack clones in their various outfits left through other doors, and in short order the space was empty save for Sam and Sheriff Jack.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 09: Illusions

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By POW

To start at the beginning of this story, click here.

Sam’s transition to wakefulness was slow and gradual, like darkness giving way to day over the course of the hour before sunrise.  His deep, dreamless sleep didn’t end so much as it faded into wakefulness.  The bed was soft, holding his body in perfect comfort at the perfect temperature and as awareness slowly returned the first thing he became conscious of was the lack of stress on his muscles, the absence of the aches caused by lying on a hard floor or lumpy cot.  It was bliss, this pain-free place he was in, and he remained there for an unmeasured amount of time basking in unmoving comfort.

Alas, the next thing he became aware of was his profound hunger.  The sensation came on gradually, but once he became aware of it he could not stop noticing it and return to the state of blissful ignorance he had been in before.  Eventually the feeling grew strong enough that he knew he was going to have to do something about it.

Opening his eyes, he found that the quiet bedroom was now aglow with soft diffuse daylight coming in through the sheer gauzy curtains.  He was alone, a fact which registered before he remembered that there had been someone else in the room when he had fallen asleep.  As such, there was no rush of adrenaline when he recalled the threat that his former companion represented.  In the slow, gauzy haze of waking it was all remote, academic, lacking any visceral demand on his attention.  After all, he had been asleep for no telling how long… another two or three or five minutes of comfort on this Platonic ideal of a pillow wouldn’t change things.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 08: All Too Real

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By POW

Unical date: unchanged

Sam rolled his eyes.  You have got to be kidding me.

Captain Jack’s voice sounded exactly like the voice of the guard he had replaced… which meant he sounded like all the guards.  “Too corny?” he asked.  “Yeah, I agree.  A pirate might don an ensemble like this at a ball, perhaps, if he wanted to catch the eye of some starry-eyed sailor on shore leave, dazzle him, seduce him and abuse him and rob him blind and ditch him the next morning.  But it’s completely impractical for everyday use.  How can a man swing a lash accurately with all this flooshy fabric getting in the way?”

The figure vanished and then rematerialized, this time wearing only the leather under-suit.  It looked very much like the uniform of the interrogators: flat, smooth, practical, studded with pockets and straps and loops for carrying a variety of equipment.  The fancy green boots were now plain black leather.   These were the clothes of a security agent or a soldier or an assassin.  Without the billowing bustles Sam could clearly see the physique underneath, and it was a fine one.  Despite his situation, he couldn’t help but stare.  Solid, well-defined muscles; broad shoulders tapering to a V at the waist; arms and legs sturdy and strong without being overdeveloped.  This guy’s body was so well-suited to Sam’s taste that it seemed to have been custom-designed to his precise specifica… right, of course.  Now that he thought about it, that was probably exactly the case.  If this was the avatar of the AI that controlled the simspace, Sam had spent the last four days feeding it information on what kind of men appealed to him… information that was now being put to use against him.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 07: It Can Always Get Worse

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By POW

To start at Chapter 1, click here

Unical date: still probably 3752.563.27

Sam’s eyes went wide.  “Nghuhh… nguhh…” he said, shaking his head.  There was no possible way that an NPC in a sim should know that he was in a simspace at all, let alone know the name of the ship the simspace was located on.  Reality and unreality were starting to blur in a very unpleasant and upsetting way.

“You can either give it to me now,” the guard said, “or you can suffer for another day or three or six and give it to me then.  I don’t mind waiting but I suspect you might prefer sooner rather than later.  So… what’s the code?”

No.  His authorization code… Sam could not give that away, not under these circumstances.  Something was fundamentally wrong here.  The simspace had been hijacked somehow.  Someone must have gained access to it and was now messing with Sam’s head… but who?  And how?  He was in the fastest ship in the Confederation and already at least four days’ travel away from the last outpost between civilization and Kappa Redulans, and at these warp speeds no signal could possibly be coming through clearly enough to allow a remote attacker to react in real time to events on the ship or in its simspace.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 06: Battle Of Wills

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Note from Metal: We about halfway through this story, which is LONG but it pays off! For best results please start at the beginning by clicking here. The setup takes a while to ramp up, but it will enhance your enjoyment and understanding of the later chapters. If you ARE enjoying this story, please DO say so by leaving comments so that the author can see, in the comments section at the bottom.

By POW

Unical date: 3752.563.26 (ish?)

Sam had no idea how long he slept, but he was awakened by the sound of the door banging open.  His adrenaline surged… but it was only time for another meal.  Some sort of tuna and rice mixture, heavily spiced so that it made his tongue and gums tingle and burn.  There wasn’t nearly enough of it; Sam could have eaten two more bowls just like the first, fiery spice and all.  Once the guard was gone and the door was closed again, he drank mouthful after mouthful of water from the tap and slowly, gradually the fire died down.

He was too keyed up to sleep again, so he paced the cell, wondering for the thousandth time why he was doing this to himself, and also marveling at the hypocrisy of his situation.  Here, waiting alone and bored in his cramped cell, he was anticipating, eagerly, he might even say, the next round of active torture.  Of course, the moment it began he would be just as eagerly looking forward getting dumped back in here for another break.  It was madness – he constantly wanted to be wherever he wasn’t.

And the worst part was the knowledge that he had the power to end this any time he wanted.  It was only his own willpower that kept him going.

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Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 05: Interrogation

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By POW

 

To start at the very beginning of this story, click here

 

Unical date: 3752.563.24 (that same evening)

Sleep?  As in, spend the night like this?  Chained up on the floor?  It didn’t seem possible.  And yet, for the sake of the scene, he would try.  He’d gotten himself into these additional restraints by his own actions; he would just have to suffer the consequences.  Damn… shaking things up after an afternoon of monotony was one thing, but now that he’d done it, he wanted to undo and go back to the monotony again!

Minutes crawled by, one by one.  The screams of the distant victim, either the same one or a new unfortunate bastard, continued to make themselves heard every so often through the door, grating on his psyche.  The room was pitch black, not that there would have been anything to see anyway.  Just concrete.  Sam squirmed around, trying to find a comfortable position and once again wondering why he had chosen to do this to himself.  He tried to eroticize the bondage and that worked for a bit.  He felt his cock grow hard between his belly and the floor and (gently!) ground it into the concrete.  It helped.  He convinced himself that he would be able to endure.  It would be an ordeal, but he would master it.

There were basically three positions available for his head: left cheek down, right cheek down, or chin down.  Chin down was the position his body wanted to be in since that oriented his head in its usual forward-facing way.  But the floor forced him to bend his neck painfully backward and so he couldn’t sustain that position for long.  That left him alternating between cheeks, switching it up every few minutes each time the crick in his neck began to complain.

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