Redemption the Stocks

Hi Guys,

In Part 1, we left off with me being escorted to the stocks by my hunky Minder at the Redemption facility. 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 2

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.

This is like an amusement park for wayward boys, slaves, and subs. Along the far wall, I can make out some jail cells with real bars! There are naked men standing in some of the cells with their hands firmly gripping the bars. They're wearing wrist and ankle irons! Along the wall on the right-hand side is a row of 10 pillories! Three guys are bent over standing in them with their heads and hands stuck in the wooden frames. Their legs are hobbled by leg irons. They're facing the wall so I can see their beautiful bare butts. Tubes that disappear into the floor are attached to their catheters. Behind the pillories are guys with their head and hands locked in shrew's fiddles and other types of yokes. Each yoke is secured to an iron ring in the wall by a heavy chain. None of the guys look very comfortable under the weight of their yokes (which look really heavy). Oh yeah, they're also wearing heavy leg irons! They're all wearing catheters attached to plastic tubing that disappears into the floor. Along the opposite wall is a row of naked guys sitting on the cement floor with their feet secured in heavy railroad ties. Their bare feet are sticking out into the room. I think their hands are secured behind their backs. In the middle of the room are some metal cages. Some of them hold a nude man. In front of each captive is a digital timer counting down their sentence. But the timer is facing away from the captive; he doesn't even know how much more time he still has to serve.

But along the same wall as the door we just passed through is a row of (maybe 10?) stocks. There are five nude guys sitting forlornly on a long wooden bench with their hands and feet locked between heavy wooden frames. Their bare feet look especially vulnerable, sticking out into the room. The stocks look incredible! The frame holding the guys' feet is secured with heavy railroad ties on both sides. Then there's another section built on from there that includes the frame that traps the guys' hands. The massive wooden framework makes the guys appear small. Even the one muscular guy doesn't stand a chance against all that wood.

As we approach the stocks, my Minder releases his hold on my right bicep, steps behind me and grabs me by my left bicep. He pulls me toward the back of the stocks where there's a path behind the long bench. We advance to a free spot on the bench between two other guys.

"Okay, boy, we'll set you down between these two losers. I just need you to step over the bench with your right leg. Now you know why we didn't put you in leg irons," he says.

"Yes sir," I say as I swing my right leg up and over the bench. My Minder keeps a strong grip on my left bicep, which ensures I don't fall. It really doesn't take much effort since the bench is only about 2' high. I wouldn't want to try it wearing leg irons, though.

"Now, I just need you to bring your left leg up and over, boy," he says.

"Yes sir," I say as I balance on my right leg and lift my left leg up and over the bench.

"Now, I need you to sit down on the bench facing away from the wall, boy," he instructs.

I glance down at the bench, and my nub strains in its cage as I see a dark spot on the bench that has been stained by the ass sweat of a lot of guys before me. I also notice a tube attached with masking tape to the edge of the bench running down into the floor. I assume that's where my catheter will connect.

"Yes sir," I say as I sit down on the bench facing away from him. I wince a bit as I'm again reminded of Sir's thorough paddling this morning. Wow, this bench is very hard! In front of me is the wooden frame with very small holes to hold my hands. Looking under that frame, I see the slightly larger holes that will soon trap my feet. The frames are made up of solid planks at least an inch thick. The edges around the holes have been sanded; I won't cut myself on them, nor will I get any splinters. The edges of the holes have also been stained darker by the perspiration of many guys before me. This is so great!

"Don't go anywhere, boy," he says, "I'm going to step around to the other side so we can get your feet secured."

This is the best birthday ever! I'm about to be locked in the stocks for four hours! Heck yeah!

My Minder appears on the other side of the stocks. I notice that my set of foot stocks and hand stocks is offset from those of my neighbors. This allows my Minder to raise the left side of my foot stocks (there must be a hinge on the right side) while leaving the feet of my neighbors secured. Ingenious!

"Okay, boy, I need you to scooch your butt forward a bit so I can get your feet locked up," he directs.

"Yes, sir," I reply as I move forward a bit on the bench.

"Okay, boy, give me your right foot," he commands. He's holding the jaws of the foot stock open with his right hand while holding out his left hand to receive my foot.

"Yes, sir," I reply as I raise my right foot.

He takes it and carefully sets my ankle into the right semicircle cut into the lower portion of the foot stocks.

"Okay, boy, now your left foot," he says.

"Yes, sir," I repeat as I raise my left foot and place it in his waiting hand. He sets my left ankle into the left semicircle. Then he slowly lowers the top frame of the foot stocks, and the two semicircles cut into the top frame slide down the sides of my ankles until they meet those on the lower frame. I hear the frame clamp shut. My Minder pulls down a latch. Then he takes a padlock out of his pocket, which I assume he uses to secure the latch. I hear the padlock click shut.

"Okay, boy, your feet are secured. Try to pull them out," he orders.

"Yes, sir," I say. I try to retract my feet from the confines of the stocks, but they're stuck! The wood in the frame digs into the tops of my feet. My nub pushes against its cage. This is so effing awesome!

"I can't pull my feet out, sir; they're trapped. The holes are too small, and my feet are too big, sir," I state, as a matter of fact.

"That's the whole idea, boy. These foot stocks will keep you sitting on that hard bench for the next four hours, boy," he says with a smirk. "But you're probably wondering about your hands. Don't you worry, boy, I'll be back around to remove your cuffs and secure your hands, as well," he states reassuringly.

I look at the wooden frame in front of me that will soon secure my hands. There's a latch on the left side of the top portion that fits over a D-ring on the bottom portion. I assume a padlock will go through the D-ring. He comes up behind me. I hear him remove a key from his belt. Then I feel him put the key in the keyhole of the left cuff and turn it. The cuff pops open, and my left wrist is free! I shake my arm a bit to improve the circulation. Then he unlocks the cuff on my right wrist. I also shake my right arm. Then I wrap my hands around my wrists to rub out the soreness. I hear the rachets of the handcuffs as he closes them and slips them on his belt.

"Okay, boy, do you see that tube attached with tape at the edge of the bench going down into the floor?" he asks.

"Yes, sir," I reply.

"Take that tube and attach it to the end of your catheter. Just push the ends together, boy," he directs.

I take the end of the catheter attached to my nub cage and push the bench tube onto the end. It matches perfectly! My nub is secured, and I don't need to worry about peeing all over the place. I can piss as often and as much as I want!

"Okay, boy, it looks like your catheter is secured properly," he notices. My Minder reaches around my left side, flips up the latch on the hand stocks, and raises the top frame.

"Okay, boy, I need you to place both your wrists in the hand stocks," he instructs.

"Yes sir," I say as I stretch out both arms and place my wrists in the two semicircles of the bottom portion of the hand stocks.

He then slowly and carefully lowers the top portion onto the bottom portion until it clamps shut. I feel the wood of the top portion meet the tops of my wrists. The latch falls onto the D-ring. He pulls out a padlock, slips it through the D-ring, and pushes the hasp into the locking mechanism. It clicks shut.

"Okay, boy, can you get your hands out of there?" he asks.

I try to pull my hands out of the stocks, but the holes have successfully trapped them. The wood digs into my hands.

"No, sir, my hands are stuck, sir," I reply.

"Good boy, that's what I like to hear. I don't want you sitting here flailing your arms all over the place. You might accidentally hit one of your neighbors!" he says with a laugh.

"No, sir, I won't be flailing my arms, sir," I say honestly.

"Now, I just need to set your sentence timer for four hours. You won't be able to see it; you'll just need to trust us to let you out when your time is up," he says.

"Yes, sir, I trust you, sir," I say.

He reappears on the other side of my foot stocks. He presses some buttons on a black box, it's the timer. He sets it down on top of the foot stocks facing away from me.

"You're all set, boy. Your job is to sit here and think about how you can mend your ways, and please your Sir, so you don't wind up here again. No talking to your neighbors, either, boy. We'd gag you, but then you'd be unable to utter the safe word or tell us if you need to take a shit or throw up. After a while, your butt will hurt, your back will ache, and you'll be really sorry you pissed off your Sir. But you just need to grit your teeth and bear it, since it's all part of your punishment. Do you understand, boy?" he asks.

"Yes, sir, I understand, sir," I reply.

"I'm glad to hear that, boy. I'll be back after a bit to check on you and perhaps try to make you more uncomfortable. Don't want you getting bored now do we, boy," he states emphatically.

"No, sir, I shouldn't be bored, sir," I respond.

He then walks off and leaves me locked in the stocks.

I again try to pull my hands and feet out of the stocks. Once again, the wood on the far side digs into them. I try to push up on the foot stocks with my feet. The latch and padlock on the other side stop me from raising the top portion. I try to raise my hands up to lift the top portion of the hand stocks. This time I can see the latch catch on the D-ring and padlock. The amount of give is minuscule, maybe a sixteenth of an inch. I move my butt around as much as I can. I can move forward and backward a bit, moving side to side is more challenging. Moving my butt around reminds me of my paddling. My nub stirs again. This is definitely one of the best experiences I've ever had. If Sir were here, he'd just shake his head in exasperation and say, "Silly boy... such a silly boy."

I think about all the guys that've sat in this very spot before me. Their penises were contained in an external catheter just like mine. Some were wearing chastity cages just like me. Their balls dropped between their legs and fell onto this bench just like mine. All those wonderful naked male butts sat in this very spot. Just thinking about it causes my nub to twitch in its cage.

I love my Sir so much. I know having me locked in the stocks for four hours cost a lot more than a trip to a day spa, probably three or four times more. But he loves me and knows I needed to have this experience.

I glance over to my stock neighbor on my right. Is he asleep? How could anyone waste this amazing experience by sleeping? Sir paid a lot of money for me to sit here on this bench, and I intend to savor every second of it! I'm determined to ensure Sir gets his full money's worth.

I look over to the neighbor on my left. He's ogling my caged nub. He can see the bars of my cage through the thin membrane of the catheter. He glances up and returns my gaze. He gives me a lewd smile. Hah! Good thing his hands are locked in the stocks like mine. Sir wouldn't want him playing with my nub cage. I give him a boy smirk and look away.

So, what should I think about for four hours? It's not as if I can take my Minder's advice and think about what I did to piss off my Sir. I didn't displease my Sir; I asked for this to be my birthday gift!

Truth be told, when I do displease my Sir, I'm completely devastated. All I can do is bawl. I lose all my appetite and can't sleep at all. I feel like such a miserable failure. My Sir is so good to me; I feel he actually cherishes me. When I love him so much, how can I possibly displease him? I feel like a piece of trash. It's for this reason that Sir goes easy on me. He corrects me so gracefully that I don't feel like a failure. Then I can focus on improving the next time.

Some things that I'm punished for actually don't bother Sir too much, like swearing, for instance. It would displease him if I swore constantly; he considers it a lack of vocabulary, a sign of ignorance. But for the occasional curse word, for which I must serve 15 minutes of corner time each, Sir likes seeing my bare butt standing in the corner.

I enjoy corner time. I know, I'm so weird, right? I love focusing all my attention on the place where the two walls meet; it clears my mind. When I'm standing in the corner, there aren't any distractions. I can't answer my cell phone; Sir requires me to turn it off. I don't have any chores or anything else I'm responsible for when I'm serving corner time. The world can wait until my sentence is over.

One day a while back, I had such a stressful day that I took off all my clothes and placed myself in the corner. When Sir saw me, he came up behind me and placed his arm around my shoulder and said, "What's going on, boy?" I explained that I just needed to spend some time in the corner if that was okay with him. He turned me around, gave me a bear hug, and said, "Sure, boy, how much time do you need?" I told him that I thought half an hour would help clear my head. "Okay, boy," he said, "well, I guess you'd best get your nose back in that corner again, hadn't you. I'll tell you when your time is up." Isn't Sir incredible?

Wow, this bench is really hard! Would it have killed them to put a cushion on it? Oh, yeah, I guess then it wouldn't be as much of a `punishment.' I scooch my butt forward a bit, as much as the foot stocks will allow.

I realize I need to pee. Then I remember the catheter and just let it rip. My pee disappears down the tube. So cool!

Now my thoughts turn to all the devices in the room. My nub acknowledges how horny I am. I think about the pillories. Would I want to stand there with my head and hands fixed in a pillory? It would be a more difficult position to maintain since I'd be hunched over. These pillories don't appear to have foot stocks, so I guess I'd be able to move and stretch my legs as much as the leg irons and pillory would allow.

What about the solitary foot stocks on the ground? Would I want to sit on the hard, cold, concrete floor with my feet stuck between those massive railroad ties? My hands would be cuffed behind my back. I feel my boy nub stir in its cage. If it could talk, it would be saying, "Yes, please, sign me up!" I have a clear line of sight to the guys in that situation, none of them look very happy. I count seven guys along the wall.

What about the cages? There are cages of all shapes and sizes in the center of the room. A few of the cages are of the standing variety. The poor victim must stand in his tiny space, wearing heavy shackles on his ankles and wrists. Everyone can witness his punishment, and he can monitor the plight of the other captives.

What about sitting in one of the other cages? If I was merely locked in a cage, what kind of punishment would that be? I mean, I could just curl up into a ball and go to sleep! I'd feel so safe and secure, I'd sleep like a baby! LOL! But then I notice one guy who has been locked in one of those cages. His bare feet are sticking out through the bars, and I can see that he's wearing leg irons. Then I notice that his hands are secured to the top of the cage by handcuffs. So, yeah, he's being punished.

What about the yokes? Do I want to sit on this cement floor with a heavy piece of wood locked around my neck? In the case of the shrew's fiddle, my hands would be stuck in front of me, one closer to my neck than the other. It would be very tiring to keep my hands up after a while. In the other yokes, my hands would be trapped on either side of my neck. It's the same position as the pillory, but I'd have to support the weight of the yoke on my shoulders. I'd need to keep alternating between pushing up on the yoke with my arms to relieve the stress on my shoulders, and letting the yoke rest on my shoulders while relieving the stress in my arms. I'd also have to deal with the heavy leg irons on my feet. I could lean up against the wall. I guess I could also stand up if the length of the chain from the wall to the yoke is long enough. From where I'm sitting, I can't see the guys in the yokes. I feel some precum drip out of my nub... silly nub!

What about the cells? I have a clear view of a guy in one of the cells. He's sitting on the toilet, probably taking a dump. No privacy here! He's wearing shackles on his wrists and ankles. Apparently, he has the run of his cell. I guess the cell is about 5 feet wide. There's a slab on the left-hand side with a mat for sleeping. The slab appears to be 2 feet wide. The stainless-steel toilet / sink combination is in the back of the cell. Maybe the cell is 7 feet long. The guy's living in a fricking palace! Lock me up and throw away the key! Seriously, though, I guess it would get pretty boring after a while. I would want to get out of there for some fresh air and exercise every day. All this pondering about being restrained in all these cool ways ignores one simple fact: I'm not going to ask Sir to send me here again; I can't take advantage of his generosity. I'll tell him I had an amazing experience and that this has been the best birthday gift I've ever received. I'll thank him profusely and leave it at that. The rest is up to him. But if he offers another visit, I won't turn it down!

My thoughts are interrupted by a Minder coming down the path behind the stocks. He's African American and appears to be about 6' 2" tall. He has handsome features and a muscular body. He's headed my way.

"Okay, slave," he says wearily, "your time is up, time to get you out of there." He's speaking to the neighbor on my right.

"Oh, thank God, sir," the slave says, "my ass is killing me, and my back aches like a toothache."

The Minder steps between us, retrieves a key from his belt, puts the key in the padlock, unlocks it, and removes it from the latch. Then he raises the latch and the top part of the hand stocks for my neighbor. Again, the stocks holding my hands are offset about 3" forward from those of my neighbor. My neighbor's hand stocks being opened doesn't affect my own at all; my hands remain locked up.

My neighbor rubs his wrists. They look red where the wood has been pressing in on them.

"Okay, slave, disconnect your catheter," the Minder instructs.

The guy reaches down between his legs and separates his catheter from the bench tube. The guy isn't wearing a chastity cage. Poor guy!

"Just push the bench tube down through the hole in the floor, slave," the Minder commands.

The guy complies.

The Minder hands the guy a new length of tubing.

"Here, slave, just push the bottom of this tube through the hole in the floor," the Minder coaches. "You can secure the other end to the bench with this piece of tape," the Minder continues. "This way," the Minder says enthusiastically, "this station will be set up for its next victim!"

The guy does as he's told.

"Okay, slave," the Minder says, "hands behind your back. We need to get you cuffed again."

The guy puts his hands behind his back. I can hear the rachets as the cuffs are tightened around his wrists.

"Hang tight, slave," the Minder says, "I'll go around and release your feet." The Minder appears on the other side, unlocks the padlock holding my neighbor's foot stocks, throws up the latch and opens the top portion of the frame.

"Okay, slave," the Minder instructs, "go ahead and remove your feet from the stocks."

The guy tries to remove his feet, but he has a hard time, and the Minder has to help him lift his feet out of the stocks. The empty wooden frame slams shut.

Then the Minder appears back behind us again.

"Okay, slave, stand up and step over the bench," the Minder commands.

The guy gingerly stands up. The Minder grabs him by his right bicep. The guy first throws his right leg over the bench, then his left leg. His Minder keeps a strong grip on the guy's arm the whole time to ensure he doesn't fall.

With that, the Minder and guy disappear down the path behind the stocks.

While I've been following all this action, I notice three new stock mates have joined me in the stocks. They're all to the right of me. There's also been a change of guys sitting in the solitary foot stocks on the other wall. Could this mean that one hour has passed?

I decide to take a stretch. I push my arms into the stocks as far as the wooden frame will allow. Gosh, that feels good. It's only a few inches, but it makes all the difference in the world. I wiggle my butt forward on the bench, pushing my legs further into the foot stocks until rings of wood encircling my legs stop my progress. I swear, the stocks were the best invention for horny boys. I'll sit here like this for a while.

Now, what can I think about? Maybe I should focus on Sir's amazing body, that will keep my horniness level ramped up. If I stop being horny, my mind will start to focus on my sore butt and aching back.

Sir has a square face. He keeps His head shaved. He has a mustache and keeps a good one or two days' worth of stubble, all the better to inflict me with beard burns! Sir has lots of hair on His body. His chest is covered with beautiful, black curly hair. I love running my fingers through it. His back is covered in hair. I know that might turn a lot of guys off, but it's just fine with me. It reinforces what a sexy, masculine stud He is. His butt is covered with hair, that includes His ass-crack.

I love burying my face in Sir's ass-crack. His scent is fantastic! His man- musk is so strong, I'm overpowered by it. I love licking around His beautiful, pink puckered hole, once I get through all the hair! LOL! I take my hands, spread His ass cheeks, and stick my tongue as far up His hole as it will go! Sir loves this! He squirms and hollers like... well, like a boy! It's true, Sir, and you know it.

Since we both enjoy this activity so much, Sir invested in a rim seat. This allows Him to comfortably sit on my face as He's getting rimmed. My head rests on a pillow under the seat. The pillow also pushes my face further into Sir's ass, which is great. We can enjoy each other's company this way for quite a while.

I love it when Sir decides to take a ride on my tongue. I'm naked except for my collar and cage. The rim seat has one of those locking metal rigid pillories attached to the front. This is completely unnecessary, of course, since I'll voluntarily stay in Sir's ass for as long as He likes; however, it adds to my feeling of being a boy. I open the neck and wrist cuffs, turn around and lie down on my back. I maneuver my neck into the collar and rest my head on the very comfy pillow. Then I place my hands in the open wrist cuffs. Sir gets naked and secures my neck collar and both wrist cuffs with a hex key. If Sir is feeling especially playful, He'll attach tit clamps to my boy nips. Then comes one of my favorite moments in the process. Sir turns around and starts lowering His magnificent ass toward the seat. The seat frames His ass perfectly. I have the best view of His hairy ass cheeks as they descend toward the seat. And then the lights go out! LOL! Sir's cheeks cover my eyes, and I start burying my nose in His crack, pushing the hair out of the way. I'm enveloped in the essence of Sir's man-musk. Finally, I find my prize, Sir's hole. Sir takes His hands and spreads His cheeks to give me better access. He needs to do this since my hands are locked in the pillory. Initially, Sir likes me to just stick my nose between His ass lips. He likes to feel my breath on His hole. After a while, He'll say something like, "Okay, boy, time to make that tongue of yours useful." Then I tip my head back slightly and start rimming His hole. I'm in heaven. I lick all around its circumference. Then, gradually, I start sticking my tongue in a little deeper. The deeper I go, the more Sir squirms and moans. I keep burying my tongue in there and keep moving it all around. The only thing I think about in that moment is thoroughly devouring Sir's hole. I'm a boy with one job, and that job is to get my tongue as far up Sir's chute as I possibly can. Eventually, Sir lets out a groan, I feel His asshole tense up around my tongue, and I know that Sir is cumming. Yes, mission accomplished! I finish up by giving little licks around the outside of His asshole. Sometimes, Sir just sits on my face for a while afterward. I enjoy the gift of His ass, and he enjoys the gift of my face. It's beautiful, really.

You probably won't be surprised to learn that Sir has a magnificent cock. It isn't the longest, nor is it the fattest, but it fits my mouth and ass perfectly.

Sitting here on my bench, I try to picture Sir in front of me, naked, with His beautiful dick pointed towards my mouth. In reality, this wouldn't be possible, because my hands are out in front of me parked in the stocks. But a boy can dream! He presses His head to my lips. Yes, He's circumcised, unfortunately. My tongue gently licks around His piss-slit. Then I lick His underside and swirl my tongue around His head. This really gets Him growing. He has to push down on His shaft with His hand to keep it pointed at my mouth. Finally, He plunges fully into my mouth. My nose is buried in His thick forest of pubes. I inhale His man-musk with every breath. He starts thrusting into my mouth, His erection growing with every thrust. His head reaches the back of my throat, cutting off my air. But I don't care, I just need to be connected to Him like this. My gag reflex is long gone. As far as I'm concerned, my mouth is a parking place for Sir's dick. He's reaching the back of my throat with every thrust. I gulp air whenever I can. He shoves His cock in and out of my mouth faster and faster. Then, with His dick firmly against the back of my throat, He tenses up, and I know He's about to cum. Mindful of me, He backs his dick up a bit so the cum will land in my mouth so I can savor His seed. As He lets out a groan, His cum shoots out of His cock forcefully. One, two, three spurts of His salty essence fill my mouth. I gently suck His head to draw out any remaining drops. As He pulls out, I keep His cum in my mouth, using my tongue to fully savor it. I can't help but smile as I strain to remember the exact taste and thickness of His cum.

My thoughts are interrupted by my beautiful Minder.

"You don't look very miserable, boy," he muses.

"Oh, no sir," I counter. "I'm very miserable, sir. My back aches, and my butt is really sore. I can hardly move at all in these stocks, sir." I try to sound as earnest as possible, but even I don't believe me.

"Uh, huh," he smirks. "I'll be back to check on you later, boy."

"Yes, sir," I say, "Thank you, sir."

My Minder turns and walks away.

I decide it's time for more stretching. I have two possible positions, forward and backward. I'm currently in the forward position. I start to rock side to side to move my butt back on the bench. As I move back, my arms and legs follow. I notice that I feel some relief in my butt cheeks every time rock. I decide to stop and raise my right butt cheek off the bench as far as I can. I put all of my weight on my left cheek and pull my right leg and right arm back until a ring of wood digs into my right foot and right hand. Then I switch sides and give my left butt cheek a rest. After switching sides a few times, I continue moving back on the bench until my progress is stopped by the stocks. This is so awesome! I love feeling that wood dig into my hands and feet. I guess I'll have some red marks to show Sir when my sentence is finished.

Now another Minder is making his way down the path behind the stocks. He is another handsome, tall, muscular man. He has Mediterranean features. He stops directly behind me.

"Okay, sub," he says, "your time is up."

I know he's talking to the guy on my left.

I'm entranced as he goes through the exact same procedure to extract the guy as was used on the guy to my right. I'm about to be without a neighbor! I watch as the guy is led away from the stocks. To be honest, I'm not sad, the guy gave me the creeps.

As I was focused on my neighbor's extraction, I didn't notice that other guys have been placed in the stocks. I guess one or two have been freed. The stocks are filling up!

Then I notice the Minder with Mediterranean features coming back behind the stocks leading a young boy. I know he's at least 18 because this facility was strict about that. I can't help noticing that he's wearing a chastity cage under his catheter. This cage appears to be one of the plastic models. He's also wearing a chain collar. He doesn't appear to be stressed out at all. "Okay, boy," the Minder says, "this is you right here." They stop at the stocks to my right. I'm about to get a new neighbor! Cool!

As the boy gets seated on the bench, he smiles at me. He glances over at my nub cage and nods slightly. I smile, glance at his cage, and nod back. As his feet are imprisoned in the stocks, he's paying attention to every little detail, like he's trying to record the memory for future reference. He's like me! After his Minder leaves, he sits there and wiggles his hands and feet so he can feel the confines of the wooden holes. He's smiling from ear to ear. He doesn't even try to hide it! Sometimes a boy just has to be a boy! I decide to demonstrate his movement capabilities while he's in the stocks. He watches me as I rock from side to side and slowly make my way toward the edge of the bench until I'm stopped by the stocks. I turn to look at him, shrug my shoulders and open my hands, palms up, as if to say, "That's it!"

"Are you two having a good time?" Oh crap, it's my Minder. He's standing in front of my feet. I didn't even see him sneak up on us.

"Oh, no sir," I reply, "we're just sitting here miserably in silence serving our sentence."

"Well, I don't want you to be too miserable, boy, so I brought something to cheer you up," my Minder says menacingly.

"Oh, thank you, sir," I reply, "that's most kind of you, sir, but I'm being punished, and I understand that I should be miserable."

"Let's just see if we can't cheer you up a bit, shall we?" he states. It's really not a question.

Then I see him pull a feather from his pocket.

• • • End of Part 2; will be continued in Part 3