Chapter 14: The Pit’s Straps

Flogger Bleeds – Edge Breaks

By Restrained4U

The pit snarled, chains scraping.

Marcus smirked, jeans hugging. Jamie sat rigid, latex slick, cap sharp. Leo stood, cage biting, jaw locked.

Ryan knelt by the scarred table, leather vest creased, leather pants scuffed – rigid bar handcuffs locking his wrists tight, steel clinking with each shift, a thick leather collar biting into his neck, the leash’s cold chain coiled loose on the concrete from Leo’s last tug, defiance simmering in his cold smirk despite his submission.

Leo stood over him, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, Ryan’s cap tilted low on his sun-bleached hair. Envy twisted a faint, bitter grin as he gripped the leash’s end, his dominance over Ryan a fraying.

He yanked the leash hard – sharp clank – jerking Ryan’s head up, chain rattling against concrete. “One last ride, slave – lick my boots,” he growled, thick with spite, planting his right boot forward, leather gleaming under the red glow, toe scuffed from Ryan’s prior service. “Now.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened, eyes flashing beneath his shadowed glare, but he leaned forward – cuffs clinking – tongue dragging slow across Leo’s boot, salt and grit hitting his lips, a bitter tang of leather and dust coating his mouth. He pulled back, spitting once to the side – sharp splat – growl low in his throat as Leo smirked, “Good boy”

Leo unclipped the leash with a flick of his thumb, links slithering free. He balled it in his fist, tossing it on the table with a clank. Leo’s fingers brushing the collar’s buckle, he twisted the steel pin, leather creaking as it loosened – snap –  peeling the thick band off Ryan’s neck slow, revealing raw, chafed marks where it had pressed. The collar thudded to the table, D-ring glinting, a shed relic of his control.

He walked over to the cabinet where the handcuffs were hanging a grabbed the small key  and returned to Ryan, leaning close, breath hot against Ryan’s ear. “You licked good, Jarhead, you’ll be my slave again before this pit spits us out,” Leo rasped, slotting the key into the left handcuff – click – spring popping loose, the rigid bar swinging free as Ryan’s wrist flexed, veins pulsing under scarred skin. He shifted to the right – click – second cuff dropping, Leo tossing the handcuffs onto the table with a loud clattering. Ryan’s glare sharpening as he snapped his head up, a low growl rumbling, “Dream on, wave-boy – next time I’ll choke you with that leash.”

Ryan rose slow, boots scuffing as he shook out his wrists, gloved fists clenching – Marine grit snapping back. He glared at Leo, “that’s my cap, wave-boy,” he snarled, as he snatched it, planting it low over his buzzed auburn hair, cap shadowing a glare that cut sharp as he took his chair, leather groaning under him.

Ryan pulled a black card from the bag, hand steady. “Dare: Strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross and restrained before other players roll to determine who flogs: RESTRAINED AND FLOGGED,” he read, voice like steel.

He gripped the card, two vetoes left. Skip it, take a punishment – Marcus would savor that. Jamie might flex his new edge. Leo could swing hard, spite burning from losing Ryan’s leash.

Ryan glared at Marcus. “Fuck you – let’s execute,” he snapped, sharp as a blade. Marcus grinned. “Strip the vest and harness, Jarhead – flogger’s picky. Ditch the cap; a lash could fuck your pretty face,” he said.

Ryan stood, peeling off his vest, hanging it on the chair. Harness clanked onto the table. Cap hit next. Leo’s eyes flicked to it, hungry. Ryan shot him a look. “Touch it, and I’ll break you, Leo,” he growled.

They hit the cross. Marcus pointed. “Face it,” he ordered. Ryan stretched his arms out. Marcus locked the metal restraints, screws grinding tight, steel biting skin.

Marcus grabbed two ropes from the wall. “Boots stay on – rope’ll do,” he said, kneeling. He lashed Ryan’s left ankle to the base, then the right, pulling tight, legs spread.

Marcus snatched four dice. “Highest roll flogs the Marine,” he said, smirking. His roll – 18. Jamie’s – 20. Marcus’s grin twitched. “Pig’s hungry,” he muttered. Leo rolled – 20, dice glaring back. Pit went still.

Ryan craned his neck. “Who’s carving me up?” he barked. Marcus laughed. “Good news: 20 lashes. Bad news: Jamie’s first, Leo’s next,” he said. Ryan’s jaw tightened, back bracing.

Jamie and Leo grabbed floggers, leather swaying. Marcus stopped them. “Not together – roll for first.” Jamie’s die hit 4. Leo’s – 6. Leo smirked, stepping up.

Marcus waved him back. “Hold it. You two ever flogged?” he asked. Jamie shook his head. Leo grunted, “Nope.”

Marcus gripped the flogger. “Pit’s rules – I’ll show you. Warm him up first – light, slow. Brings blood up, preps the skin, cuts the risk. Build slow, don’t rush – then hit harder,” he said, flicking it soft on his palm, then snapping it sharp, red blooming.

Jamie nodded. “Got it.” Leo’s cage gleamed. “Clear,” he said.

Ryan twisted, straining over his shoulder. The trio huddled tight – Marcus swinging the flogger, leather cracking air. What the fuck? Were they plotting? Marcus double-crossing him, stealing the lashes? His gut churned, ropes biting deeper.

Marcus handed the flogger to Leo. “Start him off – Jamie’s next. Keep it tight,” he ordered, stepping back, eyes glinting.

Leo took the flogger, leather strands swaying, and approached Ryan. He leaned in close, breath hot against Ryan’s ear. “Marcus is looking out for you, slave – I’m gonna warm you up first. When I tell you to start, you’ll count each lash out loud: ‘One, thank you, Master Leo,’ up to 20. Understand, slave?” he whispered, ego thick as tar.

Ryan stayed silent, jaw locked. Leo stepped back, swung the flogger hard, leather cracking against Ryan’s leather-clad ass with a sharp thud. Ryan grunted, then bit out, “Yes, Master.”

Leo smirked, dick straining in his chastity cage. “Good. Warming you up’s key – light hits get the blood flowing, loosen you up so the real lashes land right. Marcus knows his shit,” he said, flicking the flogger soft across Ryan’s back, then again, slow and steady, skin pinkening.

He paused, then swung sharper. “Start counting,” he ordered. The flogger snapped against Ryan’s back. Ryan’s voice cut through, “One, thank you, Master Leo.” Another snap. “Two, thank you, Master Leo.” Leo kept the rhythm, building slow, each lash biting deeper, up to “Twenty, thank you, Master Leo.”

Leo stepped close, flogger dangling. “You’ll always be my slave, Jarhead – one way or another,” he said, voice low. He swung one last time, a hard slap against Ryan’s leather ass, and chuckled darkly. He turned, to Jamie. “I did the hard work, pig – like always, you get the easy ride,” he taunted, cage glinting as he stepped back.

Jamie gripped the flogger, latex creaking, cap tilting as he approached Ryan. His cock stiffened under the tight latex, Ryan’s back already flushed and primed. He swung hard, leather strands cracking across Ryan’s upper back, red lines blooming fast. Ryan’s dick twitched, swelling against his leather pants.

“Take it, Jarhead – let’s see that Marine grit,” Jamie said, voice sharp. The flogger snapped again, lower, a thud echoing off concrete. Ryan grunted, “Fuck you, Jamie,” his erection pressing harder.

Jamie grinned, swinging again, targeting the meat of Ryan’s shoulders. Leather bit deep, welts rising, Jamie’s bulge straining his latex. “Not so tough now, huh?” he said. Ryan’s jaw clenched, “Keep going, pig – hit harder,” his cock throbbing under the punishment.

Jamie obliged, flogger whistling through the air, striking Ryan’s mid-back with a wet smack. Skin glistened, red and raw, both their arousals peaking – Jamie’s latex tenting, Ryan’s leather tight. “You’re breaking pretty for me,” Jamie said, leaning into it. Ryan growled, “That all you got?”

Jamie stepped closer, flogger snapping across Ryan’s lower back, a sharp sting radiating. “Plenty more, slave,” he said, voice steady. He kept going, relentless, each lash precise – shoulders, mid-back, ass – 20 cracks total, Ryan’s leather pants scuffed, skin beneath screaming red, his hard-on undeniable.

Jamie walked back to Marcus, handing over the flogger. “Pit’s satisfied,” he said, latex gleaming, then started toward his chair. Marcus grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You finished him, pig – now you release him. And if I were you, I’d compliment him on how well he took it. He stood strong against you two, and a good Dom comforts his sub,” he said, voice firm, another lesson landing.

Jamie nodded, heading to the cross. He knelt, untying the ropes from Ryan’s ankles, letting them drop to the floor with a soft thud. As he loosened the metal restraints, screws grinding free, he looked up. “You took that flogger like a champ, Jarhead – damn good,” he said, meaning it, arrogance lacing his tone.

Ryan stepped off the cross, wrists flexing. Jamie turned, walking back to the table. “And put those ropes away proper,” he called over his shoulder, Dom side flexing. Ryan walked to the table, grabbed his leather vest from the chair, and slid it on, skipping the harness – too tight against his welted back. He picked up his cap, setting it low over his eyes, military pride sharp in the tilt. Then he snatched the ropes, hung them neatly on the wall, and returned to the table.

They all sat, leather and latex creaking. Ryan grabbed the bag, tossing it to Jamie

To be continued…