Tag Archives: slavebladeboi

Story

Joey – Part 02

4 Comments

For Part 1 click here

By slavebladeboi

Following a mainly sleepless night, and twenty four hours after waking on that bench, it happened that Joey returned to the park, this time on his bike, which he usually used to get him to his part time work, to help with his expenses, as well as for the exercise that helped keep him in shape. There was very little breeze to slow or cool him and he felt the urge to push himself to mitigate the inner feelings he still had. Dappled shade rapidly alternated with brilliant sun, cooling and heating his back in succession as he cycled around the track, always within view of that bench, but never getting close to it.

The bench attracted him with a force he couldn’t explain but at the same time it repelled him, the two opposing forces made him feel disturbed, almost giddy. Since his experience, waking up, remembering his tortures, finding his cock locked without knowing who or when, he was both frustrated and nervous. In truth he was angry, frustrated, frightened and anxious all at the same time. He didn’t know which way to turn mentally. He’d been used. The turmoil that this caused him was fighting the feeling somewhere, deep inside, that it was sexy, hot and just about everything that he’d dreamed about most of the time he was jerking off.

Jerking off, yeah, the thing he could no longer do, and that made him angry.

Continue reading Joey – Part 02 →

Story

Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 01: Pyrellia’s Wing

2 Comments

By POW

Author’s note: I’m grateful to Metal for providing the inspiration for this story. It is set in a thinly disguised, probably recognizable fictional universe (hint: it rhymes with “car check”), so if you’d rather call the simspace a “holodeck”, you have my blessing. It’s a long story (11 chapters) and it starts slowly; please be patient!

 

Unical date: 3752.563.21

[Framing shot: a space station in orbit above a yellow-orange gas giant planet. Cut to interior of station.]

“I know this isn’t the best of circumstances,” Commander Shizaki said, “but there really is no other choice.  We must make do with what we have.”

Lieutenant Sam Green tried to keep his face impassive, allowing only concern to show, a slight creasing of the skin between his eyes.  “I understand.  Bareem needs to return home, of course.  But… are you certain there’s no one else who could make the trip with me?”  Don’t show even a trace of enthusiasm, not a hint.

The commander shook his head with regret.  “No one, I’m afraid.  This station’s normal complement is eleven staff, and we’re down two as it is so we were already stretched thin even before this emergency.  The need to get Lieutenant Farquhar home for his father’s funeral pushes us to the absolute limit.  I’ll be sending Lieutenant Urkenzie out in our one available interstellar-capable ship to take him back to Kerangia and then return.  That’s a fourteen-day round trip, and during that time we’ll have to shut down parts of our operations.  That will result in angry communications from research teams all over this sector, each one of them in high dudgeon over the absence of data they were expecting us to provide.  I anticipate at least one court case to be filed over the fact that our staffing shortage meant missing out on the once-in-ten-thousand-years opportunity to, I don’t know, capture the spectral signature of a snout-nosed pulsar or something equally absurd.  The case will of course be dismissed as frivolous but it will still be a tedious bureaucratic hassle.”

He put his hands flat on his desk.  “But that is my problem to deal with.  Yours, of course, is to get those tribronium plates to Kappa Redulans.  Those people are in dire need, and compared with that, the conniption fits of inconvenienced researchers don’t even register.”

“Of course, of course,” Sam agreed.  “Main power system destroyed, backup teetering on the brink of collapse, which means no air recycling and no climate control after it fails.  And so far away!”

Continue reading Captain Jack and the Race to Redula – Chapter 01: Pyrellia’s Wing →

Story

First Time? – Part 02

5 Comments

By slavebladeboi

I sat looking into my empty coffee cup listening to the gurgle of the machine on the countertop that was making the coffee to go into it. I was feeling very unsure about the present contents of my basement. I told him I’d hold him to the agreement he’d signed, but I could see he was totally out of his depth there. Looking at the screen, where I could see him hanging limply in that spread eagle, he had diminished in size almost, certainly he wasn’t looking like the gym-fit stud that I’d carried in. Dejected and lost would sum it up. If I went through with my threat then he’d live, he’d be in pain for a lot of the time and arrive home sore, but he’d get over it in a few days, physically. Not so sure mentally. Would that experience put him off for life? Would he feel unable to cope and maybe turn his back on what could be the best thing he had in life for the future? Difficult to know, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to test that theory. So I planned something different.

I opened the door and slammed it behind me in one noisy move. He jumped enough to make those taut chains rattle. Walking up to him I stared straight into his face and waved the contract under his nose.

“This! This is your contract. You wrote some of it, you signed it and you swore it was correct. Well? Didn’t you?”

Continue reading First Time? – Part 02 →

Story

First Time? – Part 01

5 Comments

By slavebladeboi

“I know, I know, we all make mistakes,” I said, putting my hands each side of his face and stroking the skin, or at least the bits that weren’t covered by the leather gag and head harness.

I looked straight into his eyes, now filled with tears of fear, maybe terrified, but it’s all the same really at this stage. He struggled a bit, the chains that held him spread eagled in that oh so delicious and vulnerable vertical position rattled slightly. I increased the tension a tiny bit more.

His intake of breath proved it was enough for the moment and it did stop the chains from moving.

Continue reading First Time? – Part 01 →

Story

Joey – Part 01

5 Comments

By slavebladeboi

Joey lay still. The cold, hard concrete under him made his shoulders and hips hurt but there was little he could do about it. The chains that held him in a tight spread eagle gave no mercy to his joints. He debated whether to open his eyes or not. Blindfolded, all he saw when they were open was the same black, endless void that confronted him when they were shut. Why bother. It was easier just to, well relax was probably not the first thought he had, but perhaps become less confused, less frightened? Little choice but just wait for the sound of the boot leather on stone as they marched over to where he lay prone.

Time had very little meaning for him. He had tried to think clearly about how he had got where he was right now, but it all became a confused mass of disjointed, chaotic thoughts over which he had no control. Hours, days even. It couldn’t be longer than days could it, to be used and abused by both of them.? He presumed there were two of them as he regularly felt four hands, whether they were the same four hands every time was an unknown. And it felt like he’d been there for ever.

Continue reading Joey – Part 01 →

Story

A boi’s Afternoon

3 Comments

By slavebladeboi

“So,” he said rather menacingly, looking straight into my eyes as he held my chin in his fist, “think of a number between one and twenty five.”

Shit, another mind fuck no doubt.

“Yes Sir,” I answered. “Six.”

What the fuck is he thinking now?

“Well done, boi. Good answer.”

Why. How’s that good?

“Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re getting 25 with the crop.”

Continue reading A boi’s Afternoon →

Story

Real Estate

3 Comments

By slavebladeboi

Dan looked down over his real estate, or at least that’s what he called it. It measured a mere 5 foot 10 inches, had hazel eyes, light brown hair, 29 years old, and was moderately muscled in a healthy way rather than with a full-time gym membership.

At the moment it was lying on a bench that Dan had made specifically for the purpose. Good thick timber legs holding the 8-foot length at waist height, the bed of the bench being planks covered in a thick rubber layer with just enough “give” to show an indentation if you stuck your thumb into the surface. Sturdy leather straps held the limbs and body in more or less any position you wanted as long as what you wanted was either arms at the sides as if it were standing or outstretched as if it were being racked. This was enough choice for Dan.

The piece of furniture and its occupant were both reasonably new to the cellar in which they were situated, having been in one case made there, in the other brought there, just two weeks ago.

Continue reading Real Estate →

Story

Jaz and H

1 Comment

By slavebladeboi

Jaz opened his eyes, or at least thought he did. It made no difference to what he saw. The soft, cushioned leather blindfold stopped even the merest chink of light from penetrating his darkness. He felt around him as far as he was able to, being restrained in a somewhat loose spread eagle by wrists and ankles to the bondage bed with just enough wriggle room to prevent cramp setting in.

The restraints were expensive leather ones with the same sort of cushioning on their inside which held you tight without pinching or chafing, a bit like having four strong, warm hands holding you in position. He moved slightly and felt the contrast of the cool rubber surface of the bondage table as opposed to the hot sweaty area his body had made throughout last night.

The night? Was it now really morning? Jaz had no way of telling. Even without the blindfold the playroom could be pitch dark being, as it was, ten feet below the living room floor, the only daylight coming into it from the top of the stairs if someone had left the hall door ajar. He had slept, but for how long? They had played for what seemed like hours and hours, he and Harrison. H, as he liked to be called, had certainly demonstrated his expertise during that time. Jaz saw nothing and could protest little, the inflatable pecker gag putting paid to conversation that was more than a squeal, moan or swift noisy exhalation of breath.

Continue reading Jaz and H →