The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe 07 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"That's it?" Hector calls out. "But I didn't even get to use my safe words!"
"If you don't like it, you and Manny can play around during the game tomorrow."
Marshall watched as Simon expertly undid Hector from all the apparatus surrounding his willful torturing. A slice through the laces with a sharp knife, brought Hector's boots crashing to the floor.
"Ohh-h-h-h-h-h-h!" came the sounds of pain and pleasure, release of the boots from dragging Hector's balls down, the two sacs jumping upwards from the unbound force. "I hate it when you do that!"
Giggling, Marshall replies, "Probably he hates it because he has to buy new laces, huh?"
Simon smiled at Marshall's joke, the boots on the floor, but Hector's balls still bloated in their sacs, a product of forced strangulation, laces still attached, even though the boots history, and the after effects of being bashed with his own belt.
He made winces, sounds of pain, his arms being lowered, but above all Hector made sighs of pleasure, those associated with coming out being trussed up. "Oh man am I gonna hurt at the gym come Monday morning!" He then reaches down to feel up his lower anatomy! Drawing in a cloud of air, he states, "Oooooh do they feel awesome!"
Teasing, Simon tells him, "Why don't you show Marshall how good it feels, Hec?"
Whining, Hector replies, "Can you do me?"
"Sure!" Simon replies with excitement. And getting behind him, "What are friends for!"
Marshall is eyewitness to Simon standing behind Hector. He wasn't 'in' him, but humped his ass as if deeply conjoined. A hand around the front, arm situated at the side of Hector's torso, he held his cock in hand. Simon laughs, saying, "Hey Marshall! Why don't you pretend your hands are two boots and give Hector here something to shoot his wad about!"
Like already said, the boots were history, but the leather laces still hung from Hector's tortured nuts. "Cool!" Marshall said, finding a way to interwine them around his fingers. Seeing what Hector could take, Marshall wasn't at all reluctant to 'stretch'.
"Ohh-h-h-h... oh fuck yeah!" Hector exclaimed as Simon and Marshall worked in conjunction, cock being stroked while balls stretched.
However, it became too intense for Marshall. Improvising, he found a way to hold both ball-laces in one hand, firming his grip to stretch the sacs, abling his free hand to take up his cock.
About two minutes into Hector's sweet torture, Simon announces, "I can't take it anymore, you Marshall?"
"It's not gonna be too long before I shoot my load, Simon!"
Releasing Hector, Simon says, "I don't know about you, but I'm up for a hot blowjob!"
He motions for Marshall to relax his grip on the ballsacs. Still stroking, he's watching, wondering what Simon is up to, questioning, "You want me in there too? But how?" he says of Simon, already his cock comfortably stuffed in Hector's mouth as he kneels on the floor.
"That's Hector's problem!"
Still reluctant, it takes Simon's hand on his cock to draw him over. Standing next to Simon, Marshall allows Simon's hand to line up his cock with his own. "It ain't gonna fit!" Marshall says.
Withdrawing a little, Simon turns Marshall into a believer.
"Oh shit!" Marshall says of the tight squeeze, his cock smooshed in next to Simon's, Hector taking both cocks in his mouth. He's never seen a guy's cheeks 'so full'!
%
Hunter could see where this was all headed. Here, Steve, his hands bound behind his back, had for the past half hour been sweetly sucking, licking his cock and balls. When he bowls himself over, their chests meeting, Hunter asks, "Steve, what are so 'sneakily' up to?"
"Me? Being sneaky? What are you ever so worried about? I'm just trying to lick your nips?"
"Steve," Hunter points out, "like my nips are under your chest 'and'," to accuse, "your ass is a position that if you should happen to 'make the mistake' and sit up, it could very well be impaled on my hard shaft?"
"Oh. Is it?" Steve plays dumb.
Not so dumb, Hunter turns the tables, pushes up from the bed, turns slightly, Steve tumbling to the side, landing on his back.
"Owch!" He says, his cuffed hands getting pulverized.
Hunter laughs out loud.
"What?" Steve questions, though it is very well known, Steve's cock sticking up like the Eiffel Tower!
"Hold on a sec!"
"Huh?" Steve questions, seeing Hunter's ass sticking up, the two white mounds switching back and forth as Hunter looks around under the bed.
"Oh now! Doesn't this look nice!"
"What?" Steve questions, still pinned to the bed.
"A mini-whipper?" Hunter says of the small-handled leather belt.
"It's called a 'cock-whip' for your information!"
"Cool!" Hunter says. "I don't supose it's used for whipping a cock?"
"Don't you dare!" Steve says, even though Hunter is getting opposite reaction.
Touching the side of Steve's tall timber with it, Hunter runs it up one side.
"Ohh-h-h... don't do that!"
"What? This?" Hunter teases Steve's cock again.
"Ohh-h-h!" Steve reacts, arching his back, digging his head into the pillow.
"Cock 'whip'? Does that mean it's to be used for whipping too?"
"Oh! Please! No!"
Hunter smiles, allowing the single frond to untangle, then giving Steve a light tap.
"Ohh-h... no... please don't hit me any harder!"
"Phony!" Hunter says, knowing what Steve was 'asking for'. "You mean don't hit you this hard?"
"Akkkkk-kkk! Ohhhh-h!" Steve beltched out, his hips even bucking more so.
"I can't believe it! I made it leak!" Hunter says of the bead of goo forming.
"Oh please... no more..."
Was Steve ever asking for it and Hunter wasn't at all reluctant to make all his wishes come true!
"Akkk! Oh! Oh! Akkk! Akkk!" Steve sighed, screamed and yelled through the first set of three cock lashes.
"More Steve?"
"No.. I think that's quite enough Hunter."
Which, translated, made Hunter really pour it on!
%
"I would have never believed it!" Marshall said, Hector's mouth overflowing with goo-times-two.
As he stood among them, Hector asks, "Are you going to get me off now?"
Poor Hector. Of the three of them, his dominators only thought of themselves, their own pleasures of working Hector's mouth and throat over. At one point the two made sport, seeing which one could stuff their cock down Hector's throat the farthest, claiming their cum would not have far to travel once it erupted. But they both held out for the 'big one', making Hector choke even as their cream filled his mouth.
"Get you off?" Simon replies.
"Should I strangle his balls some more?" Marshall says, laughing.
"No," Simon replies, Hector waiting there anxiously. "I think a fitting punishment would be for him to wait till tomorrow to jerk off."
"What?" Hector exclaims, "but I'm soo-oo ready to come now!"
"And that's why you'll wait till tomorrow. Yeah that's it. Since you were never really disciplined, tomorrow at the Super Bowl party you'll have your ass thrown over the table and.. and..." looking to Marshall, he sports an evil grin, "Marshall will score, 'kicking' your ass right through the goal!"
"I can't wait till tomorrow," Hector claims. "I'm ready to come now. Please Simon.. don't make me wait!"
"Make you wait? For some reason I don't trust letting you out of my sight, Hector."
Marshall watched as the dialogue provided action on both parts. He watched as Simon disappeared to a set of cabinets, fidgeting around in a drawer underneath.
"And to make sure you don't 'accidentally' touch yourself, I think we need some reassurance." And to Marshall, "Ever see one of these?"
"Nope," Marshall watched Simon brought out from the cabinet a box.
Hector cries out, "Oh no, not that Simon. Please! Not the CB3000!"
"CB3000?" Marshall replies. "Like how does that go?" On the cover the box he read, "Male Chastity Device?"
Setting the box down on a leather bondage table, Simon orders, "Get your butt up here Hector!"
Still, with the alligator clamps on his nips, Hector obliges, sitting up on the edge of the table, swinging his legs over.... "Oops!" he says, covering his mouth when his foot kicks the box off the table.
Picking it up, Marshall says, as he shakes the box, "I think he broke it!"
"You can't break a CB3000," Simon replies, taking the box from Marshall, shaking it, saying of the loose contents, "It's got a lot of parts. You'll see."
"No, c'mon Simon," Hector builds up his own plight, "I like gotta come so bad!" But he doesn't do anything to disway Simon from performing the dastardly deed, stretching his arms out, grabbing at the metal loops implanted in the corner of the bondage table, meant for another use.
Setting the box in between Hector's legs, Simon says, "These have gotta go," he proceeds to unlace one of Hector's ballsacs. He encouraged Marshall to do the same.
The whole time, Hector has befallen the spell of feeling two masters handling his sacs, even though quite painful, his cock betraying his act of pain, translating to immense pleasure. "Oh man that hurts so bad!"
Simon differs, "He loves it!"
"I bet," Marshall agrees, watching Hector's cock react, it twitching.
"Now for the CB3000!" Simon announces.
Again, Hector starts into his tirade, pleading for Simon to change his mind.
"Here," Simon tells Marshall, "hold this," he hands him a red, shield-shaped device, two silver cynlindrical screws protruding.
"Nice color," Marshall comments of the clear, red, plastic piece, watching inquisitively as he holds it up to the dangling light bulb.
Simon takes another red part, plucked out of a zip-it bag, saying, "This is a really 'fun' part!"
"What's that for?"
"In good time," he responds, a smile to his face, displaying the four little circular cut outs below the hollowed out holes.
Holding up a bag full of white pins and nuts, Marshall says, "I think I can guess what those are for?"
The two exchange smiles. Simon asks, "Want to take over?"
"No," Marshall says nonchalantly. "I'm enjoying the show. Carry on!"
Extracting one white pin and corresponding nut, Simon also removes a matching red circular band from the box. He pulls it apart, it separating easily, via a hinge. From a black, leather pouch he removes white tissue paper, unraveling it's contents, a brass padlock.
"If I'm guessing right... Hector will not be able to take this off until tomorrow?" Marshall asks.
Hector pleads, "Oh no! C'mon! I need to come right now!"
"Watch closely," Simon begins to instruct. "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this out!"
And it didn't, Marshall confirming it, as Simon places the big, round, red circle around Hector's whole 'business', cock and balls. After snuggly cinching it around Hector's endowmnet, he feeds the white pin through, which keeps the ring from coming unfastened. The small, white nut keeps the front part, the 'cock saddle' distanced between the ring, leaving a gap for the cock, but not wide enough for fingers to slip through. Placing the 'saddle' over Hector's cock and through the white pin, Simon makes sure it envelopes the whole eight inches, which at this moment is rock hard, taking effort to stuff it all in.
"And the finishing touches, if you would do the honors?" Marshall's idle hands prompt Simon to deliver, "The lock?"
"Oh sure!" Marshall says, grabbing up the small brass locking device.
"It goes right through here," Simon fingers the white retaining pin.
"Noo-o-o-o... c'mon guys... I've got to come real bad!"
After hearing the lock click shut, it dangling from the device in the locked position, Marshall asks, "No way of it coming off?"
"It could," Simon tells Marshall, "but there's only a couple of means by which it could. One, would be if Hector's balls were torn off, which I seem he's not in the mood for," he giggles, "or the pin could be broken, which might cause moderate pain. But overall I'd say Hector is most interested in attending our annual Super Bowl party, so I doubt he would be reluctant as to try to get it off."
"So, it doesn't come off unless... well, forget the tore-off-balls part, but the only other way to get it off is to break it?"
"Yes, and how unfortunate it would be for Hector to miss the Super Bowl party tomorrow?"
There was something Marshall wasn't getting here. Not only the vocal part, but the unspoken dialogue between Simon and Hector, the two exchanging eye contact.
"I'm not getting something here, guys?"
"You can get dressed now, Hector," Simon orders.
"Thanks," Hector said, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.
"One last question? About the CB3000, can he like pee?"
"Certainly, though it will take a little time to clean up," Simon replies. He also adds, "About the 'rules'. I mentioned we had a few that you might like to learn?"
"Oh yeah," Marshall replies. "The rules. What about them?"
"We have a nice-sized club going on here and without rules it would fall apart. But we all like the 'sport' of owning and being owned. Some like it light and some like it heavy, if you know what I mean?"
"I'm following you," Marshall replies.
"Good," Simon says, reaching into another cabinet, it appearing to hold some devices synonymous with bdsm, but in reality, it disguised as a refrigerator. "Beer?"
"Sure. Thanks."
Backing up to a bondage table, Simon hikes his ass up onto it, offering the one across from him to Marshall.
"I'm leaving now," Hector says from the distance.
"Okay. See ya Hector!" Marshall replies.
His attention drawn to Marshall, Simon doesn't acknowledge Hector. Instead, he says to Marshall, "Tomorrow it will be a whole different scene."
Tomorrow, all Marshall is thinking of is a bunch of guys getting together to watch the Super Bowl.
He informs Marshall, "I really don't have an interest in football. You?"
"Sure. I played football in high school. I follow it. Why?"
"Like some of the others who gather each year for the Super Bowl, the party is more of an excuse to see who shows up, see who we can coax away from the Tv screen."
"Really?" Marshall asks, trying to get the gist of where Simon is going with this.
Taking a swig of his beer, Simon replies, "Every year each of the guys 'must' bring a guest. Without a guest they can't get into the party."
"Oh really? Who's your guest this year? Anybody I know?"
%
"OMG, Steve! Your cock is like 'really' red!" Hunter realizes after swishing the small-sized whip back and forth against the barrel.
Breathing like he just jogged ten miles, Steve replies, "Yeah and you know why it has that shiny luster to it?"
Hunter smiles, withdrawing the reason for the ghastly look on his face, "Sweat?"
He cocked his head as Steve smiled, knowing Hunter was putting him on. Then, acting like he wasn't, "I thought it had been quite obvious to you, each time you took a swing at me, the dripping being flung from the tip?"
"Oh yeah," Hunter says, taking Steve's shaft in his hand and giving it a little pump action.
"Oh-h-h-h-h-h--h-h-h!" he renders, sitting up on his elbows and watching as Hunter teases.
"Feel a little tender, huh Steve?"
"Oh, more than a little and if you keep up the massage, I'm sure you'll find out how tender!"
Hunter speeds it up a little, saying, "Good thing you're not a top Steve."
"Oh? Why would that matter?"
More off, Hunter was trying to set the record straight, "Because if you 'were' and I weren't a top, your stiff woodie would be stinging even more, lodged deep inside of me?"
Probably because the handjob Hunter was giving him was getting quite intense, Steve resorts to telling, "Or the other way around, except since 'your' cock hasn't been toyed with, it would be feeling 'immense' pleasure?"
"Why don't you come out and ask it Steve, instead of eluding the truth?" Hunter asks, momentarily delaying his hand action.
"Are you up to fucking me?"
High hopes reflected from Steve's face.
As for Hunter, his answer came in a sketchy manner, "Hmm-m." Thinking about the past few hours, he wondered what the whole intent of meeting Steve, being invited over and everything was coming to. Fucking Steve? Sure, his teen cock was primed and all, but as he had fessed up to his best friend, Barrett, once, he had all intentions of using his teen tool eventually, on a guy who would remain by his side till infinity. Their experiences today didn't add up to the solving of that eternal equation. "Nah. I think I'll pass Steve."
"No?" Steve asks, turning his attention to Hunter, who has flew the coop, rolling to the edge of the bed, standing, looking around for some of his belongings. He too doing some acrobatics, flips over on his front, wincing a bit, then saying, "You don't want to stay the night?"
Utilizing Barrett's tactics, he replies, "Nah. Got a paper due Monday, so I better get to work on it."
Resigning to the fact he and Hunter weren't going to be spending the evening together, Steve's tugging at his arms reminds him, "Well okay, but how about helping me out of these cuffs?"
He was all serious, until he faced Steve on the bed, lying on his front, arms pulled up behind his lower back, the light reflecting off the shiny cuffs. With a wry smile painted on his lips, Hunter replies, "You know Steve, I have the strangest feelings that everything, from you knocking at my back door, asking for a cup of flour.."
"Sugar!"
"Whatever, then inviting me to breakfast, which I think was really good by the way..."
"Thanks?" Steve supposes he should say.
"And then your endeavors at dragging me up to the apartment above your garage, pointing out the telescope, the swim, then bringing me up to your bedroom... why do I get the feeling all this effort was put into one purpose?"
Knowing what was on Hunter's mind, Steve asks, "To?"
He had stepped into his briefs, pulled them up to cover a small section of his treasure trail, put his jeans on, buttoned the lonely button, zipped up and was tossing his tee shirt around in his hands, finding entrance for his head as he replies to Steve, "Y'know, it was the first time I ever whipped a guy's cock. Not bad. I enjoyed it. I mean, I knew I enjoyed it, because like you, it made me real hard. But then again Steve, it was probably your intentions. Tell me though..."
"What?" Steve asks, not sure where Hunter is going with this, lying there, exerting his head to look upwards, like a turtle's head poking out of a shell.
"How many other boys from your college classes have you suckered into the same scenario?"
"Boys? From my classes? None... why?"
Padding his shirt down, after placing it over his head, Hunter replies as he walks through the bedroom door, hand on the knob. "No reason.. other than I'm wondering how many of those college boys have wanted to feel your hot, whipped cock up their asses?"
"None!" Steve boldly called out.
Hunter pulled the bedroom door closed as he stood out in the hallway.
It then dawned on Steve, he hadn't talked Hunter into uncuffing his hands, so intent was he on listening to the eighteen year old's logic. "Wait! Come back!"
He did come back. Opening the door, Hunter stuck his head through, replying, "I take it you don't work on the weekends Steve. Have fun thinking about your penitence!"
In disbelief, Steve lay there on his stomach, looking at the closed door, his mouth wide open with a ghastly feeling setting in. 'OMG! He's leaving me here,' Steve tried pulling his wrists apart, knowing the impossible, steel doesn't break like string, 'OMG!'
%
"I've taken a real liking to you Marshall?" Simon says, taking the last swig of his beer, placing it on the bondage table next to him.
"Have you now?" Marshall replies, doing the same, their eyes linking. "In what respect would that be?"
He had hinted it before, so with Hector out of the picture, Simon is not prone to fall from the dominant mode. Instead, he switches sides, leaping from the bondage table. All intentions on cornering Marshall, he steps towards him.
Getting an idea, Marshall asks, "So what are 'your' safewords?"
"Do we need any?" Simon replies, a crafty smile adorning his face.
Swinging his foot back, Marshall swings it up, right between Simon's legs.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhkkk!" Simon replies, both hands holding his goods as he turns around and bends over. "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-fuck!"
Giggling, Marshall now hops off the table, addressing Simon from the rear, "No safeword, huh? Somehow the sound of that really turns me on!"
"Oh man!" Simon moans in pain. "I really wasn't expecting that!"
"Or this?" Marshall states.
Simon had managed to upright himself, pulling on the bondage table till he stood. To his advantage, Marshall grabs him at the crook of the elbow, turns Simon around and plants his fist in his gut!
"Ughh-h-h-hh!" Simon belches, caving over.
He knew Simon could have reacted in retribute, so Marshall senses the 'game' has 'begun'. Walking away, towards the cabinet, he opens a door, panning through some of the deep-lined draws. "Now. Let's see what we have here which will be of use to me."
"Oh man... my aching gut!" Simon sighs, holding his hairy stomach with one hand, bracing his bod against the bondage table with the other.
Finding some useful apparatus, Marshall returns with, "Don't give me any of that shit Simon. I bet your gut can take ten times more. In fact, I'm sure we'll be getting around to it. Now, why don't you be a good boy and hop up on that bondage table?"
Acting with an adamant attitude, Simon replies as he faces Marshall, "Now you listen here... this is 'my' house and I'm not taking any crap from...."
"Oh really?" Marshall simply replies, his fist doing more of the talking for him, belting him again in the gut, then thrown him against the table, the other fist giving Simon something to think about.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhh!" Simon belches, the second punch catching him right at the level of his navel.
"Need more convincing?" Marshall didn't wait for an answer, placing both hands on Simon's shoulders and lifting his knee up swiftly.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhk-ohhhh-fuck!"
"Yeah, I knew you'd like that little manoever!" Treating his punishing Simon as a game, Marshall reaches down, stabs his arm in between Simon's legs. Pulling up, the bend in his elbow catches Simon between the legs. Utilizing his other arm as a cradle, he literally picks Simon up and slaps his back down on the bondage table, much like a WWF fighter smackdown.
"Ugh! Oh fuck!" Simon replies, his mouth remaining open for a moment as he voices his grief.
As Marshall makes light work at fastening Simon's wrists to the cuffs, Simon's arms had 'accidentally' found their way to wrists pointed in the direction of the top of the bondage table, almost like a hint, Marshall fashions them in place at the top corners of the bondage table. He informs, "Oh yeah. I'll be plugging that mouth 'much' later." Rounding the table he steadies each of Simon's ankles, applying the leather cuffs. "Hey, by the way Simon.... did I tell you how much I admire these chaps you're wearing?"
Simon knew there was a point to it. Up until now he was feigning his pain, the breakdown sequence needed to allow Marshall to subdue him, fasten him down to the bondage table, but he wasn't ready for Marshall to do something which 'really' would piss him off!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....