Hi Guys,
I hope you like this story. It's more about being locked in the stocks than having sex, although there are some mentions of man on man sex. Any mention of "boys" in this story are all men at least 18 years old. To me, a man of any age (even age 80) can identify as a "boy" emotionally. If you aren't in chastity, I hope you jerk off to this story. If you're in chastity, I hope reading it causes you to drip!
You can email me at zac_loughty_author@mail.com if you want.
This is a work of fiction and any similarity between real persons or events is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in this story are aged 18 or older. This story describes consensual sex and bondage between adult men. If it's illegal for you to read this material where you live, if you're a minor, or if this material will offend you, please don't read this story.
The work published here is all my own with all rights reserved. Please do not copy any portion of this story without permission by the author.
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Redemption – The Stocks
Part 1
I have the best Sir in the world! He just dropped me off on the side of the road in the middle of this warehouse district. This is kind of a dodgy neighborhood. There are a lot of those black gum spots all over the sidewalk. There's also a bunch of trash in the gutter and along the sides of these large warehouses. I'm dressed in my most comfortable, worn jeans, a t-shirt and sneaks. I memorized the directions to get to my `birthday present'.
Oh, yeah, it's my birthday! You don't need to know how old I am... I'm at least 18 and not one day older than 100!
Sir gave me two options for my birthday gift. The first was a spa day. The spa day would include a manicure, pedicure, massage, and facial. Well, truth be told, I already got a facial from Sir this morning, LOL! The second option was a visit to a secret facility known only as `Redemption'. This facility specializes in punishing wayward subs, slaves, and boys. I belong to the latter category. Sir also told me that Redemption has a set of stocks. You know, the old-fashioned means of punishment whereby an offender was made to sit on a hard, wooden bench with hands and feet locked in a wooden frame, subject to the insults and hurling of refuse by passersby. Sir knows that I've always been fascinated by the stocks.
So, I'm walking down Industrial Street looking for this day spa. LOL! Just kidding. I would never pass up an opportunity to spend some time in the stocks... they're just so cool. I want to have my hands and feet stuck in those holes that are too small to pull them out.
Did I mention that I have the best Sir in the world? He even gave me an extra-hard birthday paddling this morning! He wanted me to be sure to have an extra-tender rump as I'm sitting in the stocks; he's so thoughtful! Of course, this was followed by a deep, hard birthday fucking that was fricking amazing! Since I'm a boy, I get corner time for swearing, but it's okay to use the word "fucking" properly in a sentence. And I can assure you that I was "fucked" properly and thoroughly!
I'm literally shaking as I'm walking down the street. Oh, no, not from fear; I'm shaking with excitement and horniness. I think I've found the warehouse. There's nothing special about it; it looks like all the other warehouses. Except this warehouse has a small, rusted sign with its street number in black letters, the same street number I'm looking for. My appointment' is for 10 AM, but I was told to report 20 minutes early. I'm right on time! Now I just need to find the one and only entrance. There it is! There's a small sign above the door with the word "Redemption" in black letters on a white background. The door is black metal, which contrasts nicely with the gray warehouse. There's a keypad just to the right of the door. I've been told that today's code is 7273933'. The door's locked until I enter the code. I hear a click in the latch, and I'm able to use the handle to pull open the heavy door. I see that the other side doesn't have a door handle at all! This is so effing cool! The door slams shut and locks behind me. I'm locked inside!
I step into a small room, well, more like a hallway, with harsh fluorescent lighting; there aren't any windows. There isn't any carpeting on the floor; it's just a bare, concrete warehouse floor. The walls are cinderblock. There aren't any pictures or other form of decoration on the walls. There's a worn, wooden bench on my left that takes up the entire wall, no more than 12 feet long. There's another black door at the other end of the room (or hallway?) There's a sensor to the right of the door. To my right is a guy in a cage! Well, not a cage with bars, but a cage with wire mesh. There's basically a counter running the length of this wall. There's wire mesh from the countertop to the ceiling. There's a narrow slot between the countertop and mesh where papers and stuff can be passed through. Are they protecting the guy from me? There are stacked black plastic crates under the counter. The guy behind the counter is very muscular and looks to be of Hispanic origin. He's wearing a gray t-shirt with the word `Redemption' in black letters over his right pec. I can't see his pants since he's sitting down behind the counter. He's so hot! But he doesn't seem very impressed by me.
"I.D.," he says in a masculine monotone.
"Pardon?" I manage to squeak out.
"Your identification. I need to see your passport, driver's license, or other form of government-issued identification," he says, sounding rather irritated with me.
"Oh, sure, sir. Here's my driver's license, sorry, sir," I say meekly. My hands are shaking as I hand him my license. He enters some stuff into his computer.
"Okay, boy. This appears to be your first time at this facility. Do you know why you're here?" he asks while handing me back my license.
"Yes, sir. I'm here to be punished, sir," I say confidently.
"That's right, boy. You're here to be punished in the stocks. There are a few things I need to go over with you before we administer your punishment," he states seriously.
"First, the safe word is Medical'. If you have any issues that you believe may require medical attention, simply state the word Medical' loud and clear to a staff person, and you'll be released immediately. If you use the safe word without good reason, you'll be banned from this facility for life. No amount of money will be accepted to readmit you. Do you understand the safe word and its use, boy?" he questions.
"Yes, sir, I understand, sir," I state emphatically.
"What is the safe word, boy?" he asks.
"Medical, sir," I say.
"When should you use the safe word, boy?" he asks.
"Only if I believe I may require medical attention, sir," I reply.
"And what happens if you use the safe word without good reason, boy?" he asks.
"I'll be banned from this facility for life, sir," I say.
"Very good, boy. You were listening after all," he says with a smirk. He continues, "Second, there will be no sexual contact of any kind on the premises. That includes between you and any staff member, or between you and any other miscreant. Do you know what a miscreant is, boy?" he asks.
"Um, is it someone who needs to be punished, sir?" I guess.
"That's right, boy. And what does that make you, boy?" he asks.
"Um... I guess I'm a miscreant, sir?" I answer hesitantly.
"That's right, boy. You're a miscreant, and you've come to the right place to be punished. But first, you need to repeat the second rule," he says.
"I won't have any sexual contact with any staff member or any other miscreant, sir," I say, somberly.
"Very good, boy. You'll always be able to tell the difference between a miscreant and a staff member. All miscreants are naked, and all staff members wear this spiffy uniform just like me. You got that, boy?" he asks.
"Yes, sir, I understand, sir," I say.
"Okay, boy. I just need you to sign these papers. They basically state that we're not responsible for anything that happens to you here and that you're voluntarily submitting to any treatment we give you. This is your last chance to back out unless you use the safe word. Do you understand, boy?" he asks seriously.
"Yes sir, I understand, sir," I say as I sign the papers. It's difficult for me to sign my name since I'm shaking so badly. Again, I'm not afraid, I'm just so effing horny! I can't believe this is happening.
"Okay, boy, this is what's going to happen. You're going to pick up one of the plastic crates under the counter. Then, you'll take this keycard and walk to the other end of this room, where you'll see a door. There's a sensor to the right of the door. Place this keycard over the sensor," he says, handing me the card. "It'll open the door. You'll step into another hallway. There will be a door in front of you that can only be accessed by staff. Turn left. There will be a long hallway with numbered doors down the left-hand side. The keycard will only open the door marked "6". Go into the room, remove all your clothes and jewelry, and drop them in the crate. Since you'll be our guest in the stocks for a few hours, you'll find an external catheter. Put it on. We don't want you peeing all over our lovely stocks. When you're ready, push the call button next to the door, and a Minder will take you to the stocks to begin serving your punishment. Do you understand these instructions, boy?" he asks.
"Yes, sir, I understand, sir," I say. I pick up one of the plastic crates. They all look to be the same size.
"What room number does the keycard open, boy?" he asks.
"The keycard opens room number 6, sir," I state.
"Do you have any questions, boy?" he asks.
"How long is my sentence in the stocks, sir?" I ask with apprehension.
"You're to spend four hours in the stocks today, boy," he answers with a smirk.
"Any other questions, boy?" he asks.
"You said I need to remove all jewelry, sir?" I ask.
"Yes, boy, all jewelry of any kind needs to be removed," he answers affirmatively.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have the keys to my collar or chastity cage, sir," I say, my cheeks turning red from embarrassment.
"That's okay, boy. Collars and chastity cages are an exception. Just put the external catheter over the cage, and you'll be fine, boy," he says.
"Okay, sir, I'll do that, sir," I say.
"Any other questions, boy?" he asks again. He's really being thorough in getting me checked in properly.
"No, sir," I state.
"Do you have to take a shit?" he asks suddenly.
"No, sir. I cleaned myself out this morning, sir," I say, a bit embarrassed.
"Okay then, boy. You've got your crate, and you've got your key. Be on your way then, boy," he says dismissably and waves his hand.
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," I answer. I take my crate, turn to my left away from the counter, and make my way to the large, black, metal door at the other end of the room. I position the keycard over the censor. The latch disengages, and I pull the heavy door open. I'm not surprised that there's no handle on the other side. I'm in another hallway. Just as he said, there's another black metal door ahead of me with a sign that says, `Miscreants Must Be Accompanied by A Staff Member'. I notice another sensor just to the right of it. I turn to my left to see a long hallway with numbered doors down the left-hand side. Again, the floor is bare concrete and the walls are cinderblock. The hallway doesn't have any windows and is quite dark; there are only a few dim lights in the ceiling. I walk down the corridor until I find the door marked with a large number "6". The door is locked until I position the keycard over the sensor to the left of the door. I hear a click in the latch, and I'm able to pull the handle and open the door. Unsurprisingly, again, there's no handle on the other side of the door.
I step into a... closet! The "room" is only about 5' by 5'. The door shuts and locks behind me. There's a fluorescent light in the ceiling. Again, no windows. Luckily, the ceiling is about 12' high, so it's not too claustrophobic. There's a worn, wooden bench on the wall to my left. On the bench is an external catheter, still in its package. I put the crate and keycard on the bench. I remove my shoes, no socks, and put them in the crate. Then I remove my t-shirt, fold it, and place it on top of my shoes. Lastly, I remove my jeans, no underwear, fold them, and place them in the crate. I'm naked except for my collar and nub cage. Boys don't wear jewelry, so I don't have to worry about a watch, or rings, or earrings. My cellphone is in my jeans pocket. There's a mirror on the wall opposite the bench. I look and see a naked `boy' wearing an infinity collar and a chastity cage.
I guess now you're wondering about my nub. How long is it soft? How long is it erect? What's its circumference when hard? Is it veiny? Do you have any moles? How big are your boy nuts? What about pubic hair? Well, I'll tell you exactly how long my nub is; it's exactly the size of its cage... no longer, no shorter. It's exactly 1" long soft because that's the length of the cage. Its circumference is the inside circumference of the cage. How long is it erect? That's not applicable since it's nearly always caged except for cleaning and shaving. My boy nuts are big because they're full of cum! I'm allowed a neat, short patch of pubic hair above my nub. If I act like I brat, I'm forced to shave it off as part of my punishment. I must keep my boy sack shaved; pubic hair on a boy's sack is just plain silly. The cage is removed weekly, so I can properly shave my nub and sack. Of course, my boy hole is kept shaved.
The cage is a metal cage with bars. This allows me to keep my boy nub clean. I'm circumcised, so foreskin isn't a problem, unfortunately. My boy nuts can't escape the cage because the distance between the ring around my nub and nuts, the "A" ring, and the cage is only about ¼". My nub is secured to the cage by one of those plastic numbered locks that slips through a ring through my frenum piercing and a bar of the cage. This keeps me from being able to pull my nub out the back of the cage. This way, Sir knows, for an absolute fact, that I'm not playing with my nub. The cage is secured with another plastic numbered lock through its locking pin. Sir keeps track of the lock numbers. Sir insists on the plastic locks in case I'm involved in an accident, and the cage needs to be removed at the hospital. At first, I was disappointed I wasn't locked with `real' metal locks. But then I realized that this is the same thing; although I could cut the plastic locks, Sir would know. Sir would be overwhelmingly disappointed with me. He would probably refuse to keep me in chastity any longer, which would devastate me! So, yeah, I'm locked up! Thank you, Sir!
Next, I have to put on the external catheter. I open its packaging and remove the catheter. I then put it on the end of my nub cage and unroll the catheter on up the cage. The adhesive sticks to the cage just fine. I put the packaging in the little trash can by the bench.
Next to the door, on the right-hand side, there is a button with a "Call" sign over it. I push it, and it lights up. I also notice a keycard sensor just above the "call" button. As I sit down on the bench to wait, I'm reminded of Sir's paddling this morning. Ouch! LOL!
I sit and wonder how many guys have sat on this exact same bench awaiting their punishment. How many were as excited as me?
About five minutes later, the door latch clicks, the door opens, and this incredibly gorgeous man steps into the room. He's about 6' 4", has blond hair, blue eyes, and is incredibly muscular. Wow! He's wearing the same gray t-shirt the guy at the front desk was wearing. He's also wearing black shorts that show off his sexy, muscular legs. There are chunky handcuffs dangling from his belt. Cool!
"Okay, boy," he says, "Stand up and let's have a look at you."
I stand up and cover my nub.
"Hands at your sides, boy," he says; "I need to check that your catheter is on properly."
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," I reply. I put my hands at my sides. He takes a quick glance at my caged nub with its external catheter. Is that disgust I see on his face? Could he be straight? He doesn't touch, nor does he get too close to my nub. There's definitely no sexual contact here.
"Okay, boy. Any jewelry besides the collar and chastity cage?" he asks.
"No, sir, that's all, sir," I say.
"Do you have to take a shit, boy?" he asks.
"No, sir. I cleaned myself out this morning, sir," I reply.
"Okay, boy. If, during your sentence, you really need to take a shit, let us know. We'll add a bit to your sentence, but if you shit while you're sitting in the stocks, that's a health and safety issue, and you'll be banned for life," he warns. "Also, if you feel you're going to throw up, let us know. It's the same health and safety issue," he says.
"I'll be okay, sir," I say.
"Okay, boy. Turn around and face the wall, it's time to slap these cuffs on you and take you to the stocks," he explains. "Wow, boy, someone's really done a number on your ass! Looks like your punishment started before you got here."
"Yes, sir," I reply. "My Sir paddled me this morning." My face turns red from embarrassment.
"Oh, your butt's going to feel good while you're sitting on that bench in the stocks," my Minder says.
My heart's racing so fast, I'm afraid I'm going to pass out. I'm being taken into custody by this hot, hunky man! I face the wall and offer my hands behind my back. I hear the loud clicks of the cuffs being pushed through so they can be locked around my wrists. This is so cool! He grabs my right wrist, and I feel the cold metal of the cuff on my skin. Then I hear the clicks and feel the metal as the cuff is tightened around my wrist so it can't escape. Then he grabs my left wrist and repeats the procedure. I'm cuffed! My hands are cuffed behind my back! I try to pull my hands apart and feel the metal rings abruptly stop my progress. I feel the weight of the cuffs as gravity pushes them down on my hands.
"Okay, boy, turn around," he says.
I comply.
"You have been sentenced to four hours with your hands and feet firmly locked in the stocks. Do you have any questions?" he asks.
"No, sir, I don't have any questions, sir," I respond.
"Very well, boy, let's get you sorted," he says wearily.
He steps behind me and grabs me around my right bicep and places a keycard over the sensor. I hear a click in the latch, and he pushes the door open. He takes me into the hallway, and we turn right, retracing my earlier steps. At the end of the hall, he places the keycard over the sensor of the door on our left. I hear a click, and he pulls open the door.
Fuck! It's okay, Sir, I'll gladly serve my corner time. As soon as we step into the room, I encounter the strong aroma of man sweat. It's the sweat of guys in pain, struggling to serve their sentence. It's the sweat of... fear, too. The room is dimly lit, warm and humid with sweaty male bodies. But what I see is even more amazing.
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- End of Part 1; will be continued in Part 2
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