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The Pit’s Grip – Part 23

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Chapter 23: The Pit’s Reckoning

Gold Draws – Shadows Shift

By Restrained4U

The pit pulsed, a low hum thrumming through the warm concrete, red lights casting jagged shadows across the steel fixtures.

Leo slumped in his metal chair, mitts creaking, muzzle straps groaning – sweat matted his blonde locks, chastity cage glinting cold between his chaps. Round two of three ticked by, his dulled eyes fixed on nothing. Ryan stood, leather jeans creaking, ass still ablaze from his last beating, boots planted firm on the warm floor – vetoes gone, pride stinging. Marcus lounged in his chair, briefs tight with a dark precum spot at the tip, a king’s grin glinting as he tossed the black velvet bag to Jamie. “Cop’s turn – pit’s waiting,” he growled, voice thick.

Jamie caught it, latex uniform squeaking, tousled black hair mussed under the shine. He smirked, reaching in – cards rustled as he pulled a gold one, white letters stark under the red glow. “Eliminate your biggest threat – cage one player, they’re out ‘til end.” – CROWN’S BANE” He held it up, grin widening.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 22

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Chapter 22: Paddle’s Toll

Leather Stings – Pride Cracks

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, a low hum vibrating through the warm concrete, red lights glinting off the steel fixtures like blood-flecked eyes.

Ryan caught the bag, leather pants creaking as he shifted, cap low over his buzzed auburn hair. His fingers brushed the velvet, cards rustling inside pulling a black card – white letters stark under the dim light. “Paddled upside down – roll four dice, total strikes by others, suspended by restraints. Make a noise, draw punishment.” He slapped it down – ROPE’S FALL – jaw tight, then grinned wide. “Pit’s my bitch – roll high, I’ll eat it.”

He swept all four dice from the table and flicked them with a cocky snap. They rolled, clattering sharp – 6, 5, 4, 3 – settling at 18. “Eighteen,” he barked, chest puffed, voice booming, “Semper fi – king and cop can’t break me.” Marcus chuckled low, stepping to the steel cabinets along the wall, unlatching one with a click – the stash gleaming. He pulled out a pair of leather ankle suspension restraints – thick, black, padded cuffs with steel D-rings, built to hold a man upside down. “Kick off the boots and vest, leather – king warms you up,” he growled, tossing the cuffs to the warm concrete with a thud. “Back on when you’re humbled.”

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 21

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Chapter 21: Gear’s Grasp

Bindings Tight – Swell Breaks

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, a low hum vibrating through the damp concrete, red lights glinting off the steel fixtures.

Leo took the bag, his hands shook as he drew a black card, white letters stark. “Roll 1 die: rounds sidelined. Each player adds 1 piece of gear, stays on until rounds end. Avoid missed rounds, draw punishment. Roll or rot.” He slapped it down – SIDELINE’S GRIP – breath hitching. That cane fucked me – I’m not chancing more. The red bag’s punishment lingered, phantom stings on his butt searing his memory.

He flicked the die – 3 skittered across the table before settling. “Three,” he rasped, voice cracking as his gut sank. Three rounds sidelined—better than the red bag’s punishment draw. Jaw tight, heat pulsing at his temples, he muttered, “I’ll take the gear over that hell,” head dipping in resignation. Marcus smirked, shaking his head. “No dodging this, wave-boy.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 20

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Chapter 20: The Pit’s Shock

Current Cracks – Crown Falls

By Restrained4U

The pit pulsed, red lights carving jagged shadows across concrete walls still damp from Leo’s flood, Marcus’s biometric lock a silent jailer over their fates.

Marcus reached for the black velvet bag – boots thudding faintly as he shook it, clink of cards sharp and deliberate. “Pit’s mine – let’s see its teeth,” he growled, voice low and edged, fingers dipping in to pull a black card – white letters stark under the red glow.

He read slow, each word a gauntlet, “Bound – roll two dice for minutes, TENS unit shocks. Endure or beg – failure draws a punishment.” He set it down on the scarred table – SHOCK’S THRONE – eyes glinting with a steely glare, sweeping the room.

Marcus leaned forward, tossing the dice – 4 and 4. “Eight minutes,” he barked, voice steady, kingly defiance stiff in his frame as he sat, boots planted firm.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 19

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Chapter 19: The Pit’s Lock

Nerve Breaks – Freedom Slips

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, red lights glinting off concrete walls still damp from Leo’s flood, Marcus’s biometric lock a silent warden sealing their fates.

Jamie slumped in his chair, latex uniform slick with sweat, patrol boots scuffed, exhaustion carving jagged lines into his wiry frame – yet a restless spark flickered in his shadowed glare. Marcus lounged, jeans taut, boots planted, chest bare and smooth where wax once clung, sipping his beer slow, kingly ease masking a coiled edge. Ryan sat rigid, leather vest creased, cap low over a cold smirk, leather pants scuffed – defiance simmering beneath the buzz of his last grind, leather creaking where tags once hung. Leo sprawled, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, hair plastered flat, cane welts itching under damp skin, a twisted grin twitching faint through his defeat.

Jamie snatched the black velvet bag from Marcus’s casual toss – latex squeaking as his fingers closed around it, a hungry glint cutting through his fatigue. “My turn – let’s crank this twisted ride,” he rasped, voice raw and reckless, a hint of dark thrill lacing his words as he shook the bag once – clink of cards sharp in the air. He dipped in, fingers brushing a card, and pulled it free – the gold sheen flared under the red glow, sharp and undeniable.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 18

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Chapter 18: The Pit’s Grind

Steel Bites – Will Stands

By Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, red lights carving jagged shadows over concrete walls slick with the echo of Leo’s drenching – Marcus’s biometric lock a silent jailer.

Ryan slumped in his chair, leather vest creased tight, cap low over a cold smirk – leather pants scuffed, a faint bulge fading from breaking Leo in the shower, defiance simmering beneath a fresh beer’s buzz.

Marcus lounged, jeans taut, boots scuffed, wax crust flaking on his chest – picking at the last stubborn flecks with a finger as he sipped his beer slow, kingly ease in every pull, the red glow catching clean skin where the wax had been.

Jamie leaned forward, latex uniform slick, patrol boots thudding soft, exhaustion etched into a jagged grin – half-hard thrill lingering from soaking Leo, his edge raw and reckless.

Leo sprawled, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, cage dripping, a twisted grin cracking faint through defeat.

Ryan reached for the black velvet bag from Marcus’s toss – fingers steady, shaking it with a clink of cards. “My turn – let’s see what this pit’s got up its sleeve,” he growled, voice low and rough, a glint of relish in his eye, pulling a black card, white letters stark under the red glow.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 17

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Chapter 17: The Pit’s Flood

Piss Soaks – Steel Holds

By Restrained4U

The pit pulsed, air heavy with sweat and leather, red lights flickering over concrete walls that loomed tighter since Marcus’s biometric lock sealed their fate.

Leo slumped in his chair, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, cane welts itching under damp skin, eyes darting with a wild mix of frustration and jagged glee. Marcus lounged, jeans tight, boots scuffed, chest streaked with wax crust, shifting slightly, the beers from earlier pressing his bladder. Ryan sat stiff, vest creased, cap low, leather pants scuffed. Jamie leaned forward, latex uniform slick with sweat, patrol boots scuffing, exhaustion carving a bitter edge into his shadowed glare – fidgeting, full and ready to unload.

Leo took the black velvet bag from the table – Marcus’s toss still ringing – shaking it with a clink of cards sharp in the air. “My turn – guess I’ll see what this pit’s got for me,” he rasped, voice thick with a surfer’s drawl turned dark, a hint of humility softening the edge. He pulled a black card, white letters stark, reading slow, “Restrained to the shower wall, all others drench you through the grate until there’s no more to give.” He set it down – FLOOD’S DRENCH – jaw tightening as he stared at it, mind churning. Flood? Drench? Is this what I think – piss from these bastards? A twisted grin flickered, fading to a hard stare.

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The Pit’s Grip – Part 16

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Chapter 16: The Pit’s Wax

Heat Burns – Flesh Melts

By: Restrained4U

The pit thrummed, air thick with sweat and leather, red lights casting jagged shadows.

Marcus slumped in his gothic chair, jeans tight, rope scars red, boots rooted, crop across his lap, belt buckle glinting. Leo sat hunched, chaps rasping against his cage, eyes wild with twisted spark. Ryan leaned back, vest creased, cap low, tags still, leather pants scuffed. Jamie hunched forward, latex slick, breath ragged, boots scuffing.

Marcus grabbed the bag, smirk dark, shaking it once – clink sharp. “My turn – pit’s still hungry.” He pulled a black card, reading slow, “Strapped to the sling or bondage table – hot wax on your chest, tied down, all three pour it on.” He slapped it down – WAX’S CLAIM – eyes hardening. “Table it is – sling’s too soft.”

Leo grinned jagged. “Gonna melt you, chief.”

Ryan snorted. “Wax’ll scar – pour it good.”

Jamie straightened, latex creaking. “Pig-boy’s frying the king.”

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