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The Pit’s Grip – Part 15

Chapter 15: The Pit’s Rope

Tether Bites – Flesh Pulls

By Restrained4U

The pit pulsed, sweat and leather thick in the air.

Jamie catching the bag tossed by Ryan, his fingers brushing the velvet, pulling a black card. He read slow, voice flat: “Tethered to another – wrists to balls, hoist-taut, blindfolded. Others roll one die each – lowest joins you, highest two strike with riding crops, remaining dice total sets the time. Endure, or beg for mercy.” He set it down – TETHER’S TRAP – latex creaking as he braced himself. “Roll – lowest’s with me.”

Marcus let out a low chuckle. “This’ll hurt, pig – hope it’s not me.”

Ryan’s fists clenched, cap tilting. “Fuck this – rather bleed out than play rope toy.”

Leo leaned forward, jaw tight, muttering to himself, Roll high, I stay caged but swing – roll low, I’m free but fucked in that trap. “Guess I’m fucked either way,” he said, voice dry.

Jamie nodded, grim. “Let’s see who’s screwed.”

Continue reading The Pit’s Grip – Part 15

The Pit’s Grip – Part 03

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.

Continue reading The Pit’s Grip – Part 03