Despite running, Paul still arrived at work late. Chris and Pete were already behind the bar, dressed exactly as he was. Paul moved to take his usual spot beside them, but Carl intercepted him.
“A bit late, weren’t you, Paul?”
“Yes, sorry about that – won’t happen again.”
“No, I know it won’t – you certainly won’t make that kind of mistake again. Follow me.”
With that Carl moved off into the club, and Paul followed behind him. As he did, so he waved at Chris and Pete. To his surprise, he got no response, the two of them staring straight ahead, a glassy expression in their eyes. He stopped to check if they were OK, but a sharp order from Carl made him leave them behind as he ran to catch up.
Carl had stopped in one of the more secluded areas of the club, close to the cage that Paul had spent some time in. He stood beside some thick chains that were hanging from the ceiling and had in his hands two 3-foot long steel bars that had shackles hanging from them.
“Ok, Paul, take off your jacket and kneel down here with your hands behind your back.”
Paul shucked off the jacket and knelt down, hands crossed behind him. He felt Carl position the metal bar between his elbows and clamp the attached shackles above and below his elbows. To do so, he had to force Paul’s elbows wider apart, which made Paul’s hands lose their grip. With a snarl, Carl forced Paul’s hands back together, which made him cry out. Then Paul felt shackles snap around his wrists, holding them in position. Carl then locked a short chain between Paul’s wrists and the metal bar, holding them tightly and painfully in place.
Picking up the second bar, Carl placed it behind Paul’s knees. Kicking his knees apart, he locked the attached shackles above and below the knee. Paul now realised that he couldn’t straighten his legs at all as Carl locked shackles around Paul’s booted feet. Something on the shackles locked in place with a snap, and Paul could not now uncross them. As with the wrists, Carl used a short chain to link Paul’s ankles to the bar around his knees, locking his legs tightly in place.
Carl moved around to the front of his bound employee. Crouching down, he roughly tweaked Paul’s nipples through the straining fabric of his shirt. The position of his arms made his chest stick out more than usual, so they were prominent and exposed. Paul hissed with pain.
“I do not tolerate lateness, Paul, so tonight you will be punished. However, I’m not a cruel man, so … 1683, pleasure on.”
Paul suddenly found the cramps in his muscles incredibly arousing. His cock started to swell and grow, creating an obscene bulge in his bleachers and he gasped with arousal. As he did so, Carl thrust a large gag in Paul’s mouth. The gag consisted of a thick, stiff rubber tube that held Paul’s mouth open and kept his tongue fixed in the bottom of his mouth. A strap locked around the back of Paul’s head, and another secured the gag under his chin. Carl then added two padlocks and pocketed the keys.
Pushing his fingers inside Paul’s shirt, Carl ripped it off him, exposing his chest to the cool air of the club. Tweaking his nipples, he chuckled as Paul writhed and wriggled in ecstasy. Moving behind Paul, he pushed him forward. Unable to do anything to stop the fall, Paul crashed to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, but even that made him feel more aroused and he ground his cock against the floor. As he did so, he felt Carl leaning over him, grabbing his ankles and pushing them towards his wrists. With a snap, they locked together, leaving Paul painfully bent backwards, balancing on his crotch and stomach. He should have fallen over, but as he tilted to one side, he felt himself pulled up short and realised Carl had locked him to the overhead chains.
Grunting into his gag, his muscles cramped and tensed, Paul was still overcome with pleasure and was trying to rub his engorged cock against the ground. But his suspended hogtie wouldn’t allow him to and he grunted with frustration into the gag. Carl leaned over Paul and clipped one final chain to the back of the gag, then used it to pull his head up and back.
“Have fun,” he said as he walked off into the gloom. After a few seconds, Paul heard the music start up and the club was open for business. Paul soon found himself the centre of attention. Several people came to stand in front of him, take pictures and stroke his helpless, quivering muscles. As they grew more confident, they tweaked his nipples, fondled his arse and massaged his now huge, frustrated cock. For Paul it was both pleasure and torture. Consumed with ecstasy at every touch, no matter how hard, he found that he could not cum and being kept on the edge as he was, drove him wild.
After a couple of hours, Carl came back to check on him. Paul by now was sweating profusely, his bleachers soaked with sweat and pre-cum. Carl chuckled
“My, my. You’ve become quite the bondage pig. But, you must be thirsty by now?”
Paul nodded as much as his bondage allowed.
Carl pulled a rubber funnel out from behind his back and swiftly clipped it to the front of Paul’s gag. Three rubber straps were then secured behind Paul’s head and locked in place. Carl then held up a collar in front of Paul’s face. Instead of the usual SLAVE, this one had PIG embossed on it and he snapped it around Paul’s neck and locked it on.
“There you go. Someone will be along to give you something to drink I’m sure.”
Carl was right, soon several customers appeared and started to pour beer and other drinks into the funnel. Paul was helpless to stop them due to the gag and gulped them down. Then, finally, one took out his cock and started to piss into the funnel. Paul desperately tried to stop the fluid entering his system but could do nothing. As he tasted the bitter fluid, something in him seemed to spasm, and he felt pleasure in a way he had never felt before. With a spurt, he came hard into his bleachers and hang in his bondage gasping.
Paul heard a chuckling and looked up to see PJ and Jay putting their cocks away.
“Looks like he knows the taste of his Master’s piss.”
“Yeah. I think he’s ready, don’t you?”
Jay nodded and, leaning forward, said, ‘1683, sleep.’”
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Copyright © 2007 and 2015 by lthr_jock.
All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.
This story is erotic gay fiction and is for mature audiences only. It may contain supernatural themes, sex scenes, violence, coarse language, drug use and other adult themes.
Metal would like to thank lthr_jock for granting permission for this story, which has previously appeared on other websites, to be re-posted here.