By Hunter Perez
“Don’t panic, Bingo,” I said to myself. “Try to stay calm and keep your movements to a bare minimum.”
Keeping still was not a problem, considering I was hogtied with a heavy tarp on top of me and a dirty mattress underneath me. The horse bit gag in my mouth shut off my ability to speak, the zip tie-connected manacles kept my wrists and ankles in place, and the chastity cage kept my cock locked within a tight metallic confinement. The only unfettered movement I could make involved the raising and lowering of my head, and I constantly tried to look up to the vent separating my imprisonment from the driver’s cabin where Jock was talking back to a sports radio show while he sped me to Pittsburgh.
Not panicking, however, was another matter. I had no idea what awaited me once Jock handed me over to the officials that wanted me in jail. Would anyone listen to me once I got to Pittsburgh? Would they acknowledge that this was all a mistake and that my case was dismissed five years ago? Or would they be like Jock and ignore my protestations while making me a prisoner?
“It’s a five-hour drive to Pittsburgh – but considering how Jock drives, we’ll be there in four hours,” I thought as I felt the van racing along a highway. “I just need to keep my mind off my problems. I just need to think happy thoughts. Concentrate on something that gives me pleasure.”
But how could I think happy thoughts under these conditions? Nonetheless, I closed my eyes and tried recall more pleasant situations. I went through a montage of memories from years gone by – school trips, summer camp escapades, Christmas parties, my premiere gig playing with my first band. Then suddenly, I remembered the dream I was having before I woke up that morning, with JimmyUSMC flexing his tattooed muscles for me in a sauna. I started to smile while recalling the dream, but then my crotch began to ache as the chastity cage stopped my cock from sharing in the fun. I started to maneuver slightly to alleviate the discomfort from the blocked erection, but that resulted in my hogtied limbs becoming sore.
“Okay, maybe I should panic,” I concluded. “This could be my last day as a free man. The rest of my life could be nothing but prison cells, convict uniforms and handcuffs. I can’t believe my life is turning into a Joshua Ryan story.”
Every now and then, Jock would yell out to me through the vent to see if I was okay. I tried to yell back, but the bit gag only allowed a muffled noise for a response. Beyond those occasional inquiries, Jock treated me like cargo rather than a passenger. When the van slowed and came to a stop, I could hear him refilling the fuel tank – he didn’t bother updating me on his activity.
The journey continued in this manner until the constant speed of the vehicle’s movement turned into a start-and-stop experience. Jock banged on the vent and announced, “We’ll be at the bail bond office in a few minutes.”
The van finally slowed considerably before coming to a herky-jerky stop, with the engine switching off. Jock suddenly began cursing and then yelled out that he needed to go inside and would be back in a minute, adding “Don’t go away” while he slammed the driver’s door.
I felt cold sweat droplets forming on my forehead. I clenched my teeth hard into the bit gag and started to pull at my handcuffed wrists with impotent fury. My anxiety began to intensify when Jock did not immediately return. I couldn’t imagine what happened – did he fall and knock himself out? Did he accept a lunch invitation and forget about me? Is he flirting with someone in the office? Even though I was livid about what he did, I was desperate for him to return and let me out.
After what seemed like an eternity, there was a knock at the rear doors. One door opened slowly, allowing dim light to permeate the dark space.
“Hey,” Jock said as he climbed in and sat down beside me. He slowly pulled back the tarp that covered me and I was able to see him. But something was very wrong – he looked ghostly pale and his eyes were teary. His hands trembled slightly as he reached around the back of my head and removed the bit gag from my mouth.
“How are you doing, pal?” he asked in a voice that was barely audible.
“How the hell do you think I’m doing?” I yelled at the top of my lungs. “I’m tied up like a rodeo steer, I’m gagged for hours, my crotch is killing me because I’m stuck in a chastity cage, I’m locked in a dark and dirty van, and I’m facing jail time for a case that was dismissed five years ago. How do you think I feel right now?”
Jock squinted at me and tapped at my crotch. “Why are you in a chastity cage?”
I sighed and shook my head. “Because Mr. S. had a Presidents Day sale that I couldn’t resist. What does it matter why I am wearing a chastity cage? Why am I even here? Why didn’t you give me a few minutes to prove that my case was dismissed?”
Jock sat cross-legged next to me and hung his head in sorrow. “You don’t have to prove anything. I have good news and bad news. The good news is that you were right – the person who needed to be brought in had a name that was similar to yours. In fact, I just saw him being led away in handcuffs. You were right all along – your case was dismissed. It was just a case of mistaken identity.”
“So, if that’s the good news, what’s the bad news?” I asked.
Jock gulped and wiped his eyes. “The bad news is that the bail bond agency tried to call me with that information 15 minutes after we left your place. Unfortunately, my phone’s battery died and I didn’t realize that until we arrived here. So, I never got their message.”
Jock rubbed his face and started to breathe heavily. I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t find the words to express how I felt. Instead of speaking in sentences, I began to bellow in staccato moans.
“Yeah, I know how you must feel,” Jock said.
“No, you couldn’t possibly know how I feel,” I responded angrily. “I ought to have you arrested for kidnapping, and I should sue your employer for everything they have.”
“I know, and they know,” he answered quickly. “But there is more good news and bad news. The good news is that the agency wants to make amends. The head of the agency is speaking with his attorney and they’ll be in touch with you later today. I don’t know how much they’ll be willing to compensate you for what happened, but I can assure you that you’ll end day a much, much wealthier than when you began it.”
Suddenly, my anger began to abate – money, especially in excessive amounts, has a way of calming my temper. “But, Jock, you said there’s also bad news. What’s the bad news?”
“Well, the bad news involves me, not you,” he said in a broken voice. “This job is over for me, but that’s okay – I was eager to do this, but I’ll find something else to do. But the real bad news is that I destroyed our friendship. You have every right to hate me and I deserve it. You’re my best friend, Bingo, and I treated you like a common criminal. I don’t deserve you as a friend.”
Jock sat straight up and folded his arms across his chest – which caused his biceps to swell. The sight of his biceps caused a pang in my chastity cage.
“Please unfold your arms,” I said, perhaps with a little too much desperation. “You’re making things uncomfortable in my chastity cage.”
Jock looked at me strangely, then gazed at his arms and smirked slightly. “You still get hot and bothered with big biceps?” he asked, unfolding his arms and then raising them high in a double bicep pose.
“No, not that,” I called out, allowing a laugh to escape. I writhed on the mattress and averted my eyes from Jock’s posing.
“You smiled,” he exclaimed. “I love when you smile. Bingo, please forgive me.”
I buried my head on the mattress. “Just please take me home. I just want to go home and crawl into bed.”
“Yeah, pal, yeah,” he said, jumping up and brushing himself off frenetically. “Anything for you, pal. I’ll get you home. We’ll leave right now. The roads are clear at this hour, so it should be smooth sailing.”
Jock bolted out of the van and I gasped – in his excitement to get on the road, he didn’t realize that I was still stuck in the hogtie position. “Jock, wait,” I called out. “Aren’t you forgetting to do something?”
“Oh shit,” he cried as he came back into the van. “I’m so sorry. I was so eager to get going and get you home that I wasn’t thinking. Here, let me take care of this before I forget.”
Jock grabbed the horse bit gag and forced it back into my mouth, locking in tightly into place before kissing me on the top of the head.
“I know how much you like that gag,” he said. “Anything for you, pal. Okay, we’re on our way home.”
Jock flew out of the van and slammed the door shut, locking it. He was in the driver’s seat a few seconds later and sped off. As I remained hogtied and gagged on the mattress in the van’s rear cabin, I held my head up and wondered, “Seriously, how do I get myself into situations like this?”
The End
