Category Archives: Story

Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 15

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By Hunter Perez

The next three weeks swirled into a prolonged magic show, with yours truly as the unlikely Pygmalion and Merrifield as an even more unlikely Galatea. Patterson brought us a huge box full of goodies that he purchased in Monroeville: books, newspapers, magazines, a black-and-white board for chess and checkers, a pack of playing cards, and several notebooks and pencils. Everything I requested was included except for the requested harmonicas, which Holmgren nixed. But even without the opportunity for harmonica interludes, each day was filled with so much activity that there rarely a wasted minute.

We started the morning with exercising. I tried to vary the exercises to prevent the boredom and a repetition of routines. Merrifield took it upon himself to invent a new exercise by lifting and lowering the bed. Unfortunately, he was caught doing that when Patterson arrived one morning with our breakfast – the guard scolded him gently for mishandling prison property and scolded me more harshly for encouraging such shenanigans.

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Story

7 Days in Berlin – Part 05

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By Takeo

NOTE: This is the continuation of a story that began many months back. To start at the very beginning, click here.

Day 2 – Wednesday June 12th – Gym & Stress

The position I am in isn’t too uncomfortable. The hardest part is not being able to stretch my legs or arms, but otherwise I am able to move quite well whenever my muscles feel the need. The cage is relatively small, and I bump into the bars several times as I try to find a comfortable position. I imagine that even without the chains, I wouldn’t have been able to stretch out to my full length.

In the end, the hood and mitts are the harder to bear. Keeping the fists closed for a long time is much harder than it looks. The mitts are small, and they fit my slender hands well and thus allow almost no movement inside. The hood, too, is tight, and although the mouth opening is large enough to allow me to breathe without difficulty, my head feels like it is clamped in a vice, the hood exerting permanent pressure on my skull. The insulation pads over my eyes and ears, and the straps that keep them pressed against my head, are amazingly effective. I perceive absolutely no light (to tell the truth, I don’t even know if the room is lit or not), and I don’t perceive any sound apart from the inner sounds of my breathing and of my heart.

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 14

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By Hunter Perez

Holmgren slowly lifted the glass from the desk and vigorously sipped its whiskey content, keeping his foul gaze at me while he consumed the drink. I stood at door and tried to consider how I would respond to this new predicament.

I assumed I would be facing an evening’s worth of abuse – certainly verbal and probably physical. Having my wrists tightly handcuffed behind my back offered a painful reminder of who was the alpha in this encounter. If Holmgren was drunk or on the verge of inebriation, then I didn’t know what to expect – he was erratic while sober, and whiskey would certainly make a crazy situation worse. Patterson’s behavior outside of the room only preyed on my apprehension – how many other prisoners came before me to experience Holmgren’s whiskey-soaked wrath?

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 13

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By Hunter Perez

Merrifield finally woke up and released me from his grip. He rolled on his back, raised his arms into the air and yawned, then looked over at me with his newfound smile. I was moved by the serenity he displayed – he seemed to be completely at peace and joy with the world, so very different from the tortured man I encountered the previous evening.

“Do you…do you…have dreams?” he asked. His voice had settled into a deeply pleasant and masculine tone, although he still paused with slight uncertainty between words.

I sat up in the bed and tousled his long blonde hair. “Sometimes,” I answered. “Sometimes they’re good dreams, sometimes they’re not. Why are you asking?”

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A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 12

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By Hunter Perez

You might be familiar with the saying “If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there.” I don’t know who originated that observation, but it could have easily been me. Having somehow unlocked Merrifield from his immobile silence through the most ridiculous manner imaginable, I suddenly found myself wondering how to proceed further. Holmgren pretty much tossed me into this situation without advance planning and I had to think fast about what to do next.

Since Holmgren was supposed to be bringing us dinner, I figured I could keep entertaining Merrifield with my favorite songs until our meals arrived. I was starving, but somehow I found adrenalin to fuel me through the absence of food. I was also trying to recall songs that sparked positive reactions from my past which could be translatable into my current bizarre situation.

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 11

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By Hunter Perez

The cell was around eight or nine feet in both length and width, with an unusually high ceiling, but it seemed cramped due to the presence of an oversized bed placed up against a wall in the middle of the space. The bedframe was crudely carved out of wood and its mattress was thin. A ratty brown blanket was crumpled at the head of the bed, which was covered in a dirty stained sheet.

The bed was obviously custom made – if not very well made – for the XL-sized occupant of the cell. Merrifield sat at the right edge of the bed and stared into the bars that kept him imprisoned. I guessed he would be either six-foot-five or six-foot-six if he were to stand up.

He sat slightly slouched over in a motionless manner. I had to stare very hard to notice the slightest clues of life when he betrayed an occasional eyelid blink and when his upper chest rose and fell in micrometers while breathing.

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Story

Interrogation Game: Chapter 6 – Reversal

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By BondageChallengeGames

The plan, as Andrew had explained to me, had been this:

Tom would see me all trussed up and hopefully let his guard down. Andrew was going to further lower Tom’s defenses with sex, and then the moment was right, I was going to grab whatever part of him I could reach and hopefully overwhelm him enough that Andrew could tie him up.

To do this, Andrew unlocked my wrist cuffs. Because my chest and neck were still locked to the wall – with padlocks whose keys were far out of reach – I was still very much restrained and unable to turn on Andrew. I let my arms fall limp to my side, finally getting rest after being tied above, behind, and beside me.

“I’m going to attach cuffs where your wrists had been, but they’ll be loose enough you can slip in and out.” Andrew said, “I’m also going to be nice and ungag you – give your jaw a bit of a rest in case I need it later. But know that if you scream, or mouth off, or try to get free, I’ll tie you to that wall in the most uncomfortable way imaginable, and spend the whole time waiting for hubby to arrive by torturing you. Understand?”

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 10

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By Hunter Perez

As I stood in the pillory dreading the prospect of several extra hours added to my imprisonment, I tried to decipher why Nicky would ever consider proposing marriage to a screwball like Holmgren. Between the casual cruelty of his prankish behavior and his nonstop talking, I would imagine anyone who harbored romantic thoughts about Holmgren would eventually either turn homicidal or suicidal in having such a lunatic as a lover.

There wasn’t very much material for me to put together a portrait of what made Holmgren tick. The key to his character, I theorized, was that he remembered me from photos that Nicky copied from online. I wondered what kind of a person would have such a crisp recall of photos of a friend of a friend? Were my photos that stunning? I think he called one photo a “male model” shot, which no one ever said about me. Was he as obsessional as Nicky? I thought opposites attracted – perhaps not in this case.

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