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The Pit’s Grip – Part 03

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Chapter 3: The Pit’s Blade

Scissors Shear – Flesh Pays

By Restrained4U

The room hung heavy with Marcus’s words, air unsteady.

Jamie’s mutter and Leo’s strain echoed, swallowed by the pit. Ryan stayed pinned, head low, clamps biting, weight tugging, tags a faint glint.

Marcus slid the bag to Jamie, staring hard. “Your go, pig-boy – add a weight, then draw.”

Jamie grabbed the weight, stepping to Ryan, breath shaky. Ryan’s chest heaved, ragged. “Lookin’ rough, jarhead – pit’s got you,” Jamie taunted, hooking the weight – clink – yanking a shudder.

Ryan growled, “Fuck you,” as Jamie brushed his sweaty abs, licking his fingers slow, eyes locked, lust warring with bravado.

He drew a card, voice cracking, “Wrists cuffed – hoist ‘em up, shred your threads, or offer flesh as tribute.” He dropped it – LIFT OR LOSE – freezing, eyes flicking up, then to Marcus.

Marcus leaned forward, his gaze unyielding. “Up you go, pig-boy – the pit’s claiming its due,” he ordered, voice a low, authoritative rumble. “Maybe you’d rather taste a punishment instead,” he taunted, his tone sharp and biting as he picked up the blood-red punishment bag from the table, dangling it with a slow sway.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 02

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Chapter 2: The Pit’s Clamps

Threads Snap – Flesh Yields

By Restrained4U

Leo’s fingers clutched the thick black card, the size of a business card, its crisp white letters stark under the dim light as his grin faded to a stark, silent stare. He swallowed hard, jaw tightening, his eyes dropping to the card with a slow, deliberate heaviness. Jamie leaned forward, smirk wiped clean, his breath catching as he stared at Leo’s hands, fingers twitching nervously on the table’s edge. Ryan’s snarl faltered, his steel gaze narrowing intently, a ripple of tension creasing his brow as he leaned in slightly, trying to read the moment. Marcus lounged back, his grin curling slow and predatory, a glint in his eyes like a wolf circling a wounded catch, dice clinking softly in his palm as he savored the thickening air.

The silence stretched, taut and heavy, the room holding its breath. Then, like a switch flipping, Leo’s lips twitched, a shit-eating grin splitting his face as he looked up, eyes wild with mischief. “Gotcha, fuckers,” he said, voice dripping with glee as he read the card aloud, barely holding back a laugh. “Roll a single die – remove that number of clothes. Socks count as one, shoes count as one. If your roll’s higher than the pieces you’ve got on, you take a punishment.” He flicked the card onto the table with a sharp snap – SHED OR SUFFER stamped in white – and leaned back, crossing his arms with a smug nod. “Easy peasy – thought I’d make you squirm first.”

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 01

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Chapter 1: The Pit’s Call

Steel Bites – Shadows Grip

By Restrained4U

The bitter cold of a November night gripped the air outside Marcus’s cabin, secluded deep in the woods. Inside, a grand fireplace roared, its polished stone mantel casting a golden glow across the cedar-paneled room, mingling with sleek, warm lights recessed in the ceiling.

Four friends lounged across top-tier furniture – Marcus sprawled in a tufted leather club chair, Jamie, 31, wiry and sharp-featured with a short, carefree black mess of hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of a storm, a glint of restless naivety in eyes that had seen scraps and storms without learning the scars, sprawled across the plush depths of a charcoal-gray sectional.

Leo, a lean, 25-year-old surfer who chased waves and thrills with equal reckless abandon, his sun-bleached blonde hair catching the firelight as he perched on a cushioned barstool by a gleaming marble kitchen island.

Ryan leaning against a wall beside a towering abstract artwork – a six-foot strip of molded black leather, its taut curves framed in glinting stainless steel, stretching vertically in a silent challenge against the wall.

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