Hidden Detention — Part 03

By Desert Pioneer

Immediately Jack figures he knows what is going on. This night was more than he could have imagined. Yet I’ve imagined so much, but I could have done without the sucker punch. Kidnap with bag over head, however, on the bucket list.

Without the use of his sight, Jack is led deeper into the trees, perhaps along that path but at times through undergrowth. Neither Jack nor either of his captors speak a word. Jack doesn’t think his chance of being released is very good but wonders if he should add some resistance as part of the role play (if that is what this is). Actually, this is pretty shitty role play he thinks. Too obvious. Yet the dress up cop had seemed pretty adamant about Jack leaving. If this is some back woods role play Jack is clearly not on the invitation list. Still, they could have used further measures to get Jack to leave but instead they are dragging him deeper into the woods.

Took about 20 minutes until they stopped, about half a mile, maybe a bit less Jack guessed. Jack hears a wooden door slam as someone just walked out. “Oh shit” comes a voice from the area of the door slam. One of the two holding Jack lets him go and walks toward the voice. Sounds of boots walking on a wooden porch now are accompanied by long rushed whispers. They seem to go back and forth, with each exchange sounding more and more agitated. As this goes on and on Jack decides to sit down in what looks like an act of defiance but more to Jack as a signal to tell these assholes to get on with things already.

“Noooooo….jagoff” from the guy holding him as Jack feels being pulled back up to his feet by a collar around his neck. Only then did Jack realize that in addition to the bag, they put some sort of collar on him.

WHAMM… another gut punch and now head pulled up by a hand under his chin bone. Jack can sense that he is face to face with his abductor. “I get a feeling you don’t much like my fist in your gut, do ya?” Jack hears in a nasty loud voice. He is correct, Jack doesn’t like getting punched in the gut and understands the guy is asking about limits.

“No, I don’t like it at all” Jack thinks about calling the dude Sir but figures the one who slammed the door on the porch is probably the lead. Besides, Jack always waits to be instructed to call someone Sir. The thrill of standing man to man and being instructed to demonstrate a place lower than equal is a demeaning turn-on for Jack. Typically, Jack replies with a quick high pitch Yes Sir which, as he intends, sounds more like a mocking comeback.

For all the times I have delivered a sarcastic Yes Sir these top men, these powerful commanding men, have never caught on to it Jack thinks. Except for that one time a while back.

Standing in the basement bar of some leather bar in Chicago Jack meets Willy, or Sir Willy to you. Jack never had a whole lot of luck in this bar. He is inexperienced, shy, and sports a bit too much of a clean-cut appearance. Nevertheless, he stands erect in the back part of the bar doing his best to feature his posture and what could pass for muscle. Dressed in his jeans, dark T shirt, boots, and heavy leather belt he caught Willy’s eye from further up the floor.

Willy is a man that Jack does not find attractive. He is tall but overweight and wears an unkept gray beard which seems to flow from his long-ragged hair. Dressed in a white T shirt, blue jeans with suspenders and various chains and shit hooked to his belt loops, he doesn’t look like one of the typical 9 to 5 working-class sheep that dresses up in overpriced leather on weekends. Still Jack found him to be a break from a basement full of look-alike – dress alike. Willy has a natural masculinity about him that has more to do with how he carries himself than what he looks like or dresses like. Jack is checking him out and even though he is horny, does not see a sexual connection.

Oh shit, Jack thinks. Willy is walking towards him and not breaking eye contact. His stride is intense and if Jack could just change a few things this could be very hot. Jack found himself encouraging the attention and wondered if the joint he smoked on the way in had anything to do with it. As Willy gets closer Jack finds himself more and more enthralled. Willy is taller than Jack and stops at less than a polite distance apart staring down at Jack.

For a quite a while Jack and Willy face each other Jack sensing Willy’s filthy mind sucking all the power out of him. Slowly, Willy begins to stroke Jacks chest. Up and down, back and forth; first with one finger, then two, then three, then his entire palm. Then with some force behind his hand pushing into Jack’s chest. Now centering on Jack’s pecs Willy rubs his forefinger into Jack’s nipple. A little pinch, then a little harder, longer pinch with direct unblinking eye contact. “Looks like we got a little titty faggot here” Willy says in a low voice. “Yes Sir” Jack replies with just too much sarcasm.

Slowly Willy leans into Jack until he has him pinned to the wall. Willy uses his thumb and forefinger on Jack’s cheeks to pinch Jacks mouth open. Willy whispers “Listen up faggot, I got other things to do with your smart-ass mount than listen to your shit. So, drop your fuckin attitude and address me as Yes Sir, Sir Willy”. Now say it and say it like you god damm mean it.

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy” Jack replies with absolute gravity. Willy pulls back a bit and turns Jack around to face the wall. What the shit, Jack is thinking. Does he think he is going to fuck me right here? Jack looks around and yeah they are in the back part of a bar’s basement, but he can’t fuck me here can he? Looking around Jack sees that no one is paying much attention, either absorbed with one another or just hanging solo. Yeah they don’t look like they are paying attention but be sure they are watching and staying for the show. This bar has a reputation for its dark back basement, and it wouldn’t be the first time a man fucks a faggot’s butt here, just the first time for Jack.

Still with his face to the wall, Jack senses Willy opening his own fly and pulling his dick out. Willy tightly grabs Jack’s hand and places it on Willy’s balls. “Squeeze my balls” Willy commands “Feel the seed in my nuts with your hands. Can you feel a big load of seed in my sack? Now faggot, is when you answer me.”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

“Say it again” demands Willy.

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

Willy grabs both of Jack’s hands behind his back and puts them on top of one another, wrist to wrist. Feeling Willy fumble a little with some of the gear hanging off his belt Jack feels a leather cord being wrapped around his wrists, periodically tied and extended out to his fingers so he has no movement with his hands, arms or fingers. “Say it”. “Yes Sir, Sir Willy” Jack replies giving Willy permission for tying his hands. “Say it like you’re fuckin begging”. “Yes Sir, Sir Willy”. Willy leans in even deeper and slowly mouth to ear whispers “Say it like you’re begging for a fucking.” “Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

Now turned back around and face to face, Jack realizes that he has no control, no say-so, no power on fending off or even slowing down this big thug. He’s in the back of some grubby bar, hands tied, and no one around seems to know or much care. Willy’s hands are back on Jack’s pecs, stroking and centering in on Jack’s nipples. First a little pinch, a little pinch for a while, then harder, then harder and meaner. Jack’s instincts to protect his nipples are hindered by the restraint leaving Jack with some arrested jerking motions as his natural reaction.

This guy is strong by his size alone thinks Jack. Willy is not letting up on Jack’s nipples and by now Jack is completely set off, his asshole warm and puckered. Willy is reaching for something more from his belt, but they are too close for Jack to see what it is. Willy pulls Jack’s shirt out from his belt and reaches in underneath making his way up to his nipple.

“Yowch, Shit, FUCK” Jack mumbles as Willy transfers the tension from his fingers to the clamp, firing up Jack’s nipple. Willy gives Jack a few moments to acclimate and then slowly tugs at the chain maintaining intense eye contact. This fucker is really hurting me Jack thinks. I can’t stand it. By this time Jack is so wound up that every ugly fucker in the bar could screw his ass.

Willy clamps the other end of the chain to Jack and pulls the chain down with increasing tension.

“Say it.”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

“Are you begging for it?”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

With his dick and balls still out Willy reaches down, unzips Jack’s fly, and puts his hand in and begins to feel around. Keeping close to Jack, Willy grabs his own dick and puts it through Jack’s fly and into his pants. Willy is grinding his cock into Jack and closing the small space between their bodies. Now he reaches for a chain attached to his belt. At the end of the chair is a clip that he attaches to Jack’s belt loop. When the other side is attached as well, they are bound at the hips.

“Say it.”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

“Say what faggot?”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

“Beg me for it.”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

To those around it could appear to be a deep make out session as Willy sticks a popper under Jack’s nose and commands him to take a long inhale. The bottle is now under Jack’s other nostril and Willy takes a hit himself.

“Beg for it.”

“Yes Sir, Sir Willy.”

Holding the pressure on the nipple clamp chain, Willy places his mouth directly over Jack’s and plunges his his tongue way down Jack’s throat. All of a sudden Jack feels a warm wet feeling in his pants. Willy is emptying a nights worth of beer into Jack’s pants, all the time while having Jack’s hands tied behind his back, hips bound to each other, nipple clamps working their magic, and this beast is fucking his mouth with his tongue.

As Willy finishes pissing in Jack’s pants, he releases all the restraints and zips up his own fly. As he turns around and heads back to the bar, in an almost threating-like tone, Willy says to Jack “Stay away from me.”

Suddenly, back in the woods, with a jerky shove, Jack begins to be moved toward the door slam.

To be continued …

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