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The Pit’s Grip – Part 15

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Chapter 15: The Pit’s Rope

Tether Bites – Flesh Pulls

By Restrained4U

The pit pulsed, sweat and leather thick in the air.

Jamie catching the bag tossed by Ryan, his fingers brushing the velvet, pulling a black card. He read slow, voice flat: “Tethered to another – wrists to balls, hoist-taut, blindfolded. Others roll one die each – lowest joins you, highest two strike with riding crops, remaining dice total sets the time. Endure, or beg for mercy.” He set it down – TETHER’S TRAP – latex creaking as he braced himself. “Roll – lowest’s with me.”

Marcus let out a low chuckle. “This’ll hurt, pig – hope it’s not me.”

Ryan’s fists clenched, cap tilting. “Fuck this – rather bleed out than play rope toy.”

Leo leaned forward, jaw tight, muttering to himself, Roll high, I stay caged but swing – roll low, I’m free but fucked in that trap. “Guess I’m fucked either way,” he said, voice dry.

Jamie nodded, grim. “Let’s see who’s screwed.”

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 14

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Chapter 14: The Pit’s Straps

Flogger Bleeds – Edge Breaks

By Restrained4U

The pit snarled, chains scraping.

Marcus smirked, jeans hugging. Jamie sat rigid, latex slick, cap sharp. Leo stood, cage biting, jaw locked.

Ryan knelt by the scarred table, leather vest creased, leather pants scuffed – rigid bar handcuffs locking his wrists tight, steel clinking with each shift, a thick leather collar biting into his neck, the leash’s cold chain coiled loose on the concrete from Leo’s last tug, defiance simmering in his cold smirk despite his submission.

Leo stood over him, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, Ryan’s cap tilted low on his sun-bleached hair. Envy twisted a faint, bitter grin as he gripped the leash’s end, his dominance over Ryan a fraying.

He yanked the leash hard – sharp clank – jerking Ryan’s head up, chain rattling against concrete. “One last ride, slave – lick my boots,” he growled, thick with spite, planting his right boot forward, leather gleaming under the red glow, toe scuffed from Ryan’s prior service. “Now.”

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 13

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Chapter 13: The Pit’s Prize

Latex Rises – Power Shifts

By Restrained4U

The pit growled, chains clinking.

Marcus lounged, jeans tight, boots scuffed. Jamie slumped, plugged, naked, twitching.

Leo gripped Ryan’s leash, cage pressing, chaps creaking. Ryan knelt, leather straining.

Marcus tossed the bag to Leo. “Your turn.”

Marcus tossed the black velvet bag to Leo. “Your turn,” he said. Leo caught it, fingers clawing. “My turn,” he growled, surf drawl sharp. He dug in, pulling a golden card. “Rewards card: take control of the game, new look, new you – reinvent yourself, gear up, own it,” – GOLD’S THRONE – stamped in white, Leo read.

Leo’s grip tightened, eyes blazing. “This is mine – out of this cage, dress the part to dominate Ryan, rule the pit,” he hissed, card shaking. He pictured himself in leather, boots, a Dom’s crown – unstoppable, commanding. “I’d be the badass and own this place,” he boasted, voice rising, cage straining.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 12

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Silicone Bites – Flesh Sinks

By Restrained4U

Marcus tossed the bag to Jamie, boots firm.

Jamie caught the bag, fingers clawing the damp velvet – (Marcus’s “pig-boy” still burns – I’ll shove it back.) He dug in, pulling a black card – white text slashing – “Blindfolded, roll one die – plug size: 1-2 small, 3-4 medium, 5-6 large – worn ‘til your next turn. Others roll, highest cuffs you in the sling and inserts it.” He set it down – PLUG’S PICK – jaw tightening – (Fuck… no dodging this.)

“Roll, fuckers” he muttered, voice low and rough – (Gotta face it.) He snatched a leather blindfold from the wall – (Bring it on.) – waiting as they diced it out, gut churning – (Fuck… just hold on.)

Leo flicked a die, surf drawl rough – (Gonna break him.) “Four,” he rasped, die skittering – (Should’ve been my turn to shove it.) His leash twitched – (Next turn’s mine.)

Marcus tossed a die hard – (Cuff you tight, pig.) “Six,” he barked, grin splitting – (Hope it rips you, king.) His boots thudded – (I know this pit – every fuckin’ inch.)

Ryan shifted, cuffs clanking – (Stuck here, but I’m still in this.) “Master, roll for me – make him squeal,” he snarled – (I’d make it hurt more.) Leo flicked another – “Three,” he grunted – (Slave’s got spite.)

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 11

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Chapter 11: The Pit’s Whip

Dice Doom – Lashes Fade

By Restrained4U

Leo sat with Ryan’s leash slack, having traded any potential rewared for Jamie’s two veto cards and burned all three to dodge his last dare. Ryan knelt, cuffed and collared; head bowed beside Leo’s chair. Jamie perched in soaked briefs, eyes glinting with restless hunger.

Marcus, shirtless in jeans, snatched the black velvet bag from Leo, boots planted firm. (Pit’s mine to bend.) He reached in, fingers brushing the thick cards, and pulled a black dare – white text slashing against the dark.

He read it slow, jaw tightening, voice a rough drawl – “Everyone rolls the dice, you roll a dice – whoever rolls the same as you gets to choose a previous dare or punishment. If no numbers match, you take a punishment.”

He slapped the card down – ROLL OR RULE – its thud sharp against the scarred table, eyes glinting with a predator’s edge. (Leo’s cane, Ryan’s clamps, Jamie’s shred… someone’s picking – or the pit’s got me.) His mind ticked fast – (Match, and they choose. No match, and it’s the red bag… could be anything.)

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 10

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Chapter 10: The Pit’s Veto 

Cards Burn – Echoes Grip

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, steel thick.

Leo sprawled, boots wide, Ryan’s leash slack, clip swaying. Ryan knelt, cuffed, “Yes, Sir” echoing.

He read it slow, jaw tightening – voice low, grit fraying “Don the blindfold, reach into the pit’s forsaken pile – pluck a discarded dare or punishment and bend to its will. Perhaps the shadows favor you, slipping a gold reward through the dark to lift you high. Refuse, and the red bag spits two punishments to claim your soul” – BLIND OR BLEED – stamped in white.

His gut twisted – boots rooted, card shaking in his grip. Nine lashes tore me apart – butt’s still sore from that cane. Ryan’s clamps, 10 pounds, screamed ‘til they bled. Leo’s weights, 2.5 on his balls, he groaned through it. Jamie’s hoist and shred – naked, trembling in his briefs. Fuck – I’m fucked either way. His mind raced – I could play my final veto card, but then I’d pull not 1 but 2 punishments. But there’s one reward card… could I get lucky and pick that? His eyes darted to the table – cards sneering, “Nine lashes, bare back” half-buried, “Nipple clamps, 10 pounds” peeking, “20 pounds by your balls” glinting cold – his cage pulsed, leash slackening, doubt clawing like a wave pulling back. One veto – Burn it, pit’s death; do it, I’m done.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 09

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Chapter 9: The Pit’s Leash 

Surf Commands – Pride Falls

By Restrained4U

The dungeon pulsed, sweat thick.

Leo sank, Carrera locked – nine’s ache under welts, eyes dim. Marcus sprawled shirtless; jeans tight.

Jamie perched, briefs wet, envy sparking. Ryan loomed – leather pants, harness vest, boots thudding, crop in boot, cap shading a smirk.

Ryan drew a card, jaw ticking, “Each player rolls one die – highest claims your service ‘til next turn – or yield to punishment.” He flicked it – SERVE OR SINK – gut lurching (They roll? Marcus’d carve me, Jamie’s wild, Leo’s soft – easy).

“Roll,” he snarled, pride braced.

Marcus tossed a 5. “Five – could own you.”

Jamie flicked a 3. “Fuckin’ hell.”

Leo rolled slow – 6 rattled. “Six…” he rasped, shocked.

Marcus laughed. “Wave-boy’s got you – sick twist.”

Leo stood, cage snug, chest swelling – six flipping the script (Fuck this – I’m not their rag).

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 08

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Chapter 8: The Pit’s Chains 

Sling Stretches – Steel Claims

By: Restrained4U

The dungeon pulsed, tension thick.

Marcus slumped, rope scars red, boots rooted, shoving the bag to Leo. “Your go – pit’s waiting.”

Leo grabbed the bag from his chair, shaky hand digging in – Fuck, what’s it gonna be? He pulled a black dare card – white lettering stark – voice cracking as he read aloud. “Sling’s Embrace – Will You Yield to Its Lace? Roll two dice – minutes tied in the sling, legs spread, parachute stretcher on, half-pound weights added each minute – or quit and prove your manhood’s frail, stripped away for good.” He dropped it – STRETCH OR SUBMIT – gut sinking – Two dice… shit.

Marcus leaned forward, smirking – He’s shaky – “Step up, wave-boy, or play that last veto card – your call.” Leo gripped the table – Ryan’s owning this… – “I’ve got this, man,” he muttered, voice thin – veto untouched. Ryan’s smirk curled – “Finally get to ride that swing set you admired earlier, wave-boy.”

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