By Jim
David stood in his complex’s lobby, staring down anxiously at his phone. On it was the logo of the Game, along with a countdown: “00:00:01;24”. That damn timer had been ticking down for what felt like an eternity. For David it practically was; he’d been waiting for his chance to compete for almost 4 months now. 4 months of evenings filled with cruel tortures, mind-numbing tasks, and above all the aching, unrelenting pangs of horniness. This month had to be it. It would finally be his chance for release, he could feel it!
His heart raced as the timer ticked down to the very last seconds: three, two, one…
This month’s contestants are: #37, #29, #14, #43, #20
Stand by for orders at 20:00 hours, EST. Failure to report is punishable by a penalty month; repeat offences will result in automatic forfeiture.
David’s heart sank. Another month of waiting! How long until he’d be able to get even a chance at his freedom? Dejected, he headed for the stairs.
Shawn was your typical all-American dumb frat boy. Muscular body, cute face, ripped jeans, and Abercrombie T shirts. He partied, drank, played around, and took everyone and everything around him for granted. Now, one would think that a guy who had flunked out of college twice already, and chose to try again a third time would have learned something from his mistakes, or at least cared on some subconscious level about his future.
I stared at the wall, like I had for the past hour or so. No, not by my own choice. I was strapped in this position, my ankles spread with a bar, and my arms behind me. A thick leather muzzle kept me quiet, and there was a tether attached to the top of it keeping me in place. There was also a tether around my full, aching balls, which were already feeling a squeeze from that infernal steel chastity cage that’s been locked on them for over two months.
