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Story

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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Story

The Pit’s Grip – Part 07

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Chapter 7: The Pit’s Knots 

Rope Reigns – Leather Rules

By Restrained4U

The dungeon pulsed, sweat thick.

Marcus slumped shirtless, jeans scuffed, boots firm—rope marks raw, eyes defiant.

Ryan loomed, leather creaking, crop in boot, cap shadowing a smirk.

Jamie leaned forward, briefs soaked, envy sharp. Leo sat hunched, jock pinching, hands fidgeting.

Marcus dipped into the bag, pulling a black card with a slow flick. His grin widened as he scanned it, eyes glinting with the words: Bound to Escape – Can You Slip the Pit’s Hold? Take the knots, roll the dice – break free in time, or endure double the strain if you fail. His mind ticked over – Rope’s my bitch… pit’s got nothing on me – confidence surging as he tossed it down, voice smooth and cocky. “Dare card – ‘Bound to Escape – Can You Slip the Pit’s Hold? Take the knots, roll the dice—break free in time, or endure double the strain if you fail.’ Dice decide how long I’ve got – two to twelve. Fail, and it’s double that under strain.” He leaned back, arms crossed, oozing confidence – I’ve tied knots tighter than this punk’s head… escaping’s a breeze.

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Story

The Pit’s Grip – Part 06

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Chapter 6: The Pit’s Gold 

Cage Locks – Power Shines

By Restrained4U

The air clung thick, winch hook echoing.

Jamie slumped, flushed, eyes darting. Leo sat hunched, striped ass raw, wincing sharp.

Ryan settled stiffly, chest heaving, nipples throbbing, socks scuffing where boots once sat.

Marcus slid the bag to Ryan. “Pit don’t take breaks – your go.”

Ryan’s hand froze over the bag, his buzzed auburn hair damp with sweat, eyes narrowing. Fuck this – not again, not yet, he thought, the memory of weights tugging his chest still clawing at him, nipples screaming from Marcus’s tweak. He’d endured – grit held – but the pit’s jaws lingered too close, his breath shallow as he hesitated.

Marcus tilted his head, a faint smirk curling. “What’s the hold-up, soldier? Pit’s waiting.”

Ryan grunted, low and rough, and dipped his hand in, fingers brushing the cards – black dares heavy with dread – then pulled one free, slow, reluctant.

The card gleamed gold, black lettering stark against it.

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Story

The Pit’s Grip – Part 05

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Chapter 5: The Pit’s Cane 

Strokes Break – Flesh Binds

By Restrained4U

The dungeon hung heavy, winch hook creaking.

Jamie slumped, eyes flicking to Leo’s trembling card.

Ryan’s ragged breaths rasped from the cross, weights pulling, clamps biting deep into his chest, his jaw clenched tight – but a flicker of grim hope burned in his gaze now. After Leo’s turn, those cursed clamps would finally come off, his torment ticking down as Leo’s loomed.

Marcus leaned back, arms crossed, his smirk a cold blade as the rustle of the blood-red punishment bag faded, its threat now clutched in Leo’s grip.

Leo’s fingers shook, the card’s crimson edges blurring in the dim light, white lettering stark and unforgiving. He swallowed, throat dry, and read it to himself first – Fuck, not this – his gut twisting as the words sank in. His voice came out low, cracked, barely steady as he read aloud. “Roll two dice for cane strike – strap to the table face-down, count ‘em loud, or the pit doubles it.” He let the card slip to the table – ROLL AND CANE in white – and stared at it, the range – two to twelve – searing into his skull, his breath hitching fast. Both vetoes would’ve killed this – out, safe, done, he thought, a sharp pang stabbing through him. He’d held that last card like a shield, and now the pit had him anyway, dice ready to carve his fate.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 04

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Chapter 4: The Pit’s Leather

Flesh Quivers – Hide Bites

By Restrained4U

The air sat thick; pit’s pull heavy.

Jamie slumped, briefs damp, shifting with shame. Ryan’s breaths rasped from the cross, clamps biting.

Marcus smirked, sliding the bag to Leo. “Second spin, wave-boy.”

Leo’s hand hovered over the bag, his sun-bleached hair falling into his eyes as he met Marcus’s stare. The cocky grin from his first turn – when he’d stripped to his briefs and strutted like he owned the place – was gone, eroded by the pit’s grind.

Ryan’s ongoing strain, Marcus’s shadow-clawing whisper, Jamie’s shredded clothes in the pit’s trove – it was all hitting home, the intensity sinking deep. He paused, then grabbed the half-pound weight Marcus had set beside the bag, his fingers tightening around it as he rose and crossed to Ryan.

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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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