By Pup Shaggy
He needed this… He wanted this… he kept telling himself that, over and over as he lay there on sheet metal, completely alone, fighting back the chill of the cold. Still blindfolded, still handcuffed, still muzzled – of which had now been locked on, like everything else – and now his legs tied together by duct tape, he was utterly and completely helpless… and it was amazing.
He had no clue where he was, other than he was in the back of a van, and it belonged to Hunter. He had no clue what was going to happen to him… or how the night was going to end… and it was amazing.
He’d have the biggest hard-on of his life if his cock wasn’t locked up in chastity. Hunter had pulled the zipper of his jeans open and his boxers down, so that the cage was out in the open air. His balls rubbed against his trousers, the cold metal encasing his junk completely, trapped. Not that it dissuaded him from trying to get free; constantly his cock tried to break free of the metal sheath containing it, straining to pull away from his crotch to reach the cool and refreshing air on the outside. But every time, the cage pulled at his balls eventually becoming painful when it pulled too far… But the cage stayed firm, only to slap back against his body in futile effort. But then he tried again seconds later. |To make matters worse, Hunter had also slipped a ball stretcher over Spencer’s vulnerable boys, crushing them tightly. He wasn’t used to the sensation; being denied a good stiffy. And he knew by now he loved it, and hated it.
But then…. He needed this.
His sight was still nothing but black from the blindfold; he hadn’t even seen the van he was in. Nor had he seen anything when Hunter fucked his throat for the second time, taking him then and there inside the van as soon as they’d entered. It couldn’t have been comfortable inside such a small space… but Hunter still took his throat the way he wanted, and shot his load over his face again, only this time it didn’t take as long for Hunter to cream. Spencer’s legs flailing around as he was pounded, fingers clawing away as he tried to stop himself slipping. It was hard to tell if he passed out or not, and he still kept running it through in his head trying to figure it out.
But now he lay there silently; the muzzle had been put back on quick enough. Only to accompany it, one of Hunter’s well-worn boots had been slipped over his face; his nose deep in the toes of the boot. To make sure it wasn’t going anywhere, Hunter had duct taped it on his face tightly He’d been met with what must have been months’ worth of sweat and musk that invaded his senses. Every breath he took was like breathing in smoke; a stench so heavy that it burned his sinuses and made his eyes water. There was no escape from that scent, and no-way to breathe through his mouth.
But then… he wanted this.
Shallow breaths only worked for so long, and eventually he had to take a deep whiff. Instantly, his eyes watered under the bandana, and slowly his mind caught up and his lips smiled.
So he went with it. Stuck between a denied hard cock and a burning throat, he curled up on the cold metal sheeting of the back of the van feeling pretty amazing. Only a few hours ago he’d been in a club, drinking his cares away. His phone was still in his pocket, and he’d heard it several times go off; probably text messages from his mates cooing at him. After all, he’d left collared in the arms of a stranger after having called him master. Or had he called him a predator? He couldn’t even remember anymore. He clenched his eyes shut as the cage slapped against his crotch again after yet another failed attempt. He couldn’t just stop though, he was horny as fuck. He could feel the pre-cum slurp between his cock and the metal, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a lot of it. Normally he’d be whimpering. Hell he wanted to. But then he’d agreed to not say anything for the rest of the night.
That and chastity were his terms, and he graciously agreed, not to mention the no-way out, no safe-word that Hunter had told him. He was in this now, like it or not… and he did like it. Maybe he could still whimper, it wasn’t exactly talking but then what? Did he really expect Hunter to take the cage off?
But then…. He wanted this. He needed this. So he went with it.
But now, he waited completely alone out in the cold. Hunter had left without an explanation, tossing his other boot at the crumpled boy, struggling vainly in the back of his van while Hunter had donned another pair. He couldn’t hear much; there was a car go past every now and then so he at least knew he was on a street. Maybe if he yelled and grunted someone would hear him and call the police. But… why would he want that? He didn’t want out. Still, his shoulder ached on how he laid on it, his hands limp from where he’d tugged. And now he was feeling lonely. But there was nothing he could do but to just lie there, still and quiet. He learned that struggling only made his body ache, and trying to talk drew un-wanted attention. Not to mention he’d been order to stay quiet.
So time passed like that, too horny to sleep, forced to inhale raw sweat musk from the inside of a boot. Lying, Waiting. And Waiting.
Out of the blue, there was a smack to the back door, two muffled voices talking indistinctly, and suddenly it swung open, accompanied by a wall of cold air and two masculine voices. Spencer had no clue how long it had been, something close to two hours by now. He recognised one of the voices as Hunter’s, the other was unknown to him but sounded just as gruff, and just as masculine.
“And there he is, look at him lying there like a good little bitch,” Hunter remarked, showing off his catch to his beefy friend.
“I see you already locked the bitches cock away.” The other voice chortled.
“Of course, the thing was so horny he’d probably have grinded against the floor if I hadn’t,” the two of them laughing at the thought. The van swayed and bowed lightly, the sheeting crumpling as the two men crawled in, slamming the door behind them. Instantly the cramped space warmed up tremendously with the body heat of all three of them, Spencer almost cowering now from his spot in the floor.
“That’s better, now then…” and the van fell quite but for the wet slurpy sound of two guys kissing hungrily and the subtle creaking of leather on leather. Spencer stayed till, curled up on the floor, listening to these two guys grunt and slurp, reminding himself over and over to stay quiet and not make a sound, not that there was much to be said around his gag anyway. There was zipping and furling as clothes were removed, boots and feet slipping on the floor and sliding into Spencer. The first hit his thighs, the second in his chest. Both times he grunted quietly, surprised, praying that neither of his companions heard it. They didn’t.
“Your prey here’s being pretty quiet,” the newer man commented.
“Yeah, well I told him not to make a sound for the rest of the night.”
“Is that so?” More shuffling, only this time the sound came towards Spencer as he was hauled up from his spot, twisted around and placed in between the legs and against the chest of one of his friends. He wasn’t sure who’s until they spoke, but he felt a hairy chest and a slight belly against his sore cuffed hands as a thick arm came around his chest and pulled him back with little effort.
“Let’s see if we can make him squeal then huh?” Instantly, Spencer shook his head hurriedly, feeling the straining of a hard cock beneath him, feeling the weight of the boot taped to his face as he swayed. He felt it shift a little, the tape coming un-done as he struggled, but an arm around his neck quickly put a stop to that; holding his head back and firmly planted against the shoulder of Hunters friend, pinned and stuck. Leaving his chest and his locked cock and balls exposed for his captors enjoyment. At first a hand started to caress his chest, toying with what little chest hair Spencer had.
Even that was hard to resist groaning for. But then that hand grew rough an fierce, and gentle strokes and rubbing gave way to pinching, slapping, flicking and hitting. Spencer could do little the way he was, the arm under his chin flexed making it harder for him to breathe, listening to the sadistic chuckle of his captor in his ear. His arms could do nothing and were as good as useless, at least he managed to pull his feet free from the duct tape: all his struggling earlier must have loosened it or pulled apart the layers.
But that problem for his kidnappers was quickly fixed as the mystery man behind Spencer curled his legs around Spencer’s flailing ones, pulling them open, and then still. Hunter then took the opportunity to strip him of his shoes and socks, letting him feel the ice cold metal around him, and the thick boots being worn by Hunters friend.
Now he really was screwed, and what little movement he had was now lost again. He could feel Hunter crawl closer; feeling the bed of the van bow downwards slightly at the weight as a third person crawled nearer. Still trapped in darkness, he couldn’t see the nipple clamps until they were being put on him.
His body jerked, his muscles tensed, and a brief ‘Grrt…’ escaped his throat as he still tried to silence himself as the metal vice-like pinchers hooked into his pert nipples painfully. Again, his head shook side to side, but neither of his companions gave any indication of letting up or easing their playing.
In fact they took his outburst as a sign they were close, and close they were. He felt fingers rest comfortably under his ball sack, crushed between the tube of the metal cock cage, and the ring that kept it on. Once more his head flung side to side, but no noise came out. So, taking that as a sign, Hunter gave him his first ball slap. “Mppphh!!!” he called out as his balls stung from the impact, his spine spasming but his body held firm by the bigger man, laughing as he whimpered and tried to catch his breath.
“There we are, not bad, not bad.” He cooed.
“Sure, not bad.” Hunter agreed, “But I gave you an order kid, and now, I got to punish you haven’t I?” Once more, Spencer’s head shook violently from side to side, this time taking no effort to silence himself; a flurry of grunts, whines and whimpers escaping his gagged mouth.
The arm tightened even further though, making him choke around the muscular appendage coiling around his throat and he panted, still whimpering feebly as the hand returned to its resting place beneath his exposed balls. Each swat was accompanied by a range of pained groans and grunts coming from Spencer, and the sadistic laughter of Hunter and his friend, both enjoying the torment their victim was enduring. Twice… thrice…. Four times… five… it got unbearable. He struggled in vain, trying to beg for them to stop, and finally, after his balls were swollen and red, they ceded, letting him lose collapsing on his side and curling up in the fetal position as his balls still stung and his ears rang.
“I don’t think he’ll be disobeying me again any time soon.”
“You can say that again. What do you say we make a hole in his jeans and have our way with him?”
“I’m tempted, but I think I’d rather break him in myself if you don’t mind.”
“Sure, but err, well, we have to do something about mine then…” The conversation trailed off, or perhaps Spencer came close to passing out, he didn’t know. The darkness of the blindfold was absolute. He curled up on the floor, like the beaten thing he was, passing the brink of consciousness. By the time he’d re-gathered his senses, all could be heard was satisfied, grunting and groaning. The odd slurp here and there.
Because he was at one end of the vans back and his captors at the other, he had no real way of knowing what was happening. But I’m sure you can guess. Hunter was sucking his mate off, almost like a ‘trade’ in exchange for letting him break in Spencer… or at least Spencers’ rear anyway.
It didn’t take long for the salty taste of cum to shoot down his throat: Hunter was an expert and had spent several years a sub before graduating to top.
His mate gave him a sloppy kiss, and without another word, the two of them left and returned to the leather pub they were parked outside of, once more leaving Spencer on his own, waiting.
All in all, this had all happened in under an hour, but Spencer would be feeling each and every one of those swats to his balls for a good few days. Thankfully he wasn’t left alone for long this time, Hunter crawling back in, alone this time, deftly and quickly locking on a pair of iron manacles over Spencer’s ankles and trouser legs that Hunter had been offered. They weren’t tight, but did their job of hobbling their wearer to short shuffles when walking by the short chain that linked them together. These as well, couldn’t be tugged apart.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank Pup Shaggy for this story!