By lostouteast

“John?!”

SMACK. Jimmy barely saw the hand that struck his face before he found himself looking downwards and to the left.

“That’s not something you get to call me anymore.”

“What the fuck are y-”

SMACK.

“From now on, you speak only when given permission to do so, and the first and last words out of your mouth will be, ‘Sir’ or ‘Master.’”

Jimmy’s ears were ringing, half from the two slaps he had just received, and half from rage. Before he could fully contemplate whether to make another mistake by speaking again, he felt a fist take hold of his hair and jerk his head upwards. Jimmy felt something rubbery pressed up against his lips, and, anticipating another gagging, clamped his mouth shut.

“Still fighting it … Even now …”

Continue reading Jimmy’s Vacation – Part 3 →

By lostouteast

Jimmy had no idea where he was being taken. That was far from the most immediate thought on his mind, however. The tight ball tie that he had been put in had begun to put considerable strain on his muscles, and his entire body was in open mutiny. His muscle cramps developed muscle cramps as every attempt at movement was foiled by the leather straps connecting his biceps to his thighs and the chains that unyieldingly connected his wrists to his ankles.

The duffle bag he had been stuffed in tightly encapsulated his body as the stench of a cum and piss soaked jock strap, stale socks and a sweat saturated pair of bike shorts permeated his compact prison. Jimmy was acutely aware of the rubber penis pressing against his tongue, as well as the tight leather hood that hugged his face and robbed him of his vision. But more than anything else, he was aware of his cock, which oozed a constant stream of precum with every bump in the road.

Continue reading Jimmy’s Vacation – Part 2 →

By lostouteast

Jimmy slowly came to. At least he thought he did. He wasn’t sure for a moment, as despite his open eyes, his world was dark. Jimmy’s head was throbbing, but as he reflexively tried to move his right hand towards his forehead, he felt a tug on his left wrist, and what appeared to be the cold unyielding grip of metal. As he tried to form the words, “what the fuck?” his tongue met a firm, yet supple material; something was filling his mouth and reducing his attempts at speech to muffled grunts. Jimmy soon found out that sitting up was an equally futile exercise. Wherever he had been lying unconscious for god knows how long, he could only lift his head about a foot before hitting what appeared to be a metal ceiling. He could feel his arms brushing against the bare skin of his torso; he was naked.

Continue reading Jimmy’s Vacation – Part 1 →