Hi Guys,
In Part 2, we left off with me sitting with my hands and feet stuck in the stocks at the Redemption facility. My Minder has just reappeared in front of my imprisoned bare feet with a feather.
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 3 of 3
"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.
"Oh, no, sir," I shout, "please, sir, I'll do anything, sir, please don't tickle me, sir." I reflexively start trying to extract my feet from their holes. They're so vulnerable sticking out there.
I hear the boy to my right giggling. He's about to get the show of a lifetime, and he has a front-row seat.
My Minder starts slowly, lightly pulling the feather down the soles of both feet. I struggle not to laugh; I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Then he attacks my left foot with a vengeance. He's digging between and all around my toes. I shriek with laughter. I desperately try to get my foot out of that hole, but the wooden frame doesn't budge. My Minder has complete and total access to my poor, bare, defenseless foot. I curl and uncurl my toes, I shake my foot as much as I can, but nothing stops the relentless tickling from my Minder. Nearly everyone in the room who is able looks in my direction. The boy to my right doesn't even try to stifle his delight.
Great, I'm the entertainment for the day. I really hate being tickled. This isn't fun at all. My left leg and foot are getting bruised from slamming into the sides of the wooden holes surrounding them. For some reason, I keep clasping and unclasping my hands in a futile attempt to protect my feet. Instinctively, my hands keep reaching for my feet. This only results in my arms slamming into the holes that hold them tight.
Then he switches to my right foot, attacking it with equal vigor. I'm a complete mess now. I'm squealing with laughter; my arms and legs are flailing about as much as the stocks will allow, and I'm sweating profusely. It seems as if everyone in the room is laughing at me. I don't think a single guy has any sympathy for me at all.
After about five minutes, my Minder puts the feather back in his pocket. "See, boy," he says, "you're not miserable anymore. You can't keep from laughing."
"Yes sir," I say feebly, "Thank you so much, sir."
"You're welcome, boy," says my Minder, "I'll be back after you've had a chance to relax for a while." Then he's gone.
I just slump on my bench. I rest my head on my right arm. I'm done. I admit defeat. I was done in by a feather! I'm sore all over. My hands, arms, legs, and feet have all taken a beating. My back aches, and my butt hurts. I also stink! I feel sweat drip from my underarms.
I decide to focus my mind on more pleasant thoughts. I look over at the guys stuck in the solitary foot stocks along the wall. Some of them are still smiling and looking at me. I believe that kind of stock would be the best for Sir to fuck my mouth in. We'd need to get my mouth at just the right height so it wouldn't be a strain for Sir. If we had a hard, wooden bench or stool, that would do the trick. Sir could step over my shoulders and shove His cock in my mouth. His strong, hairy, muscular legs would wrap around my face and neck. I wouldn't have any control at all since my hands would be cuffed behind my back. Sir could use me like a fuck doll!
I believe the pillory would be the best for getting fucked in. My head and hands would be imprisoned in the wooden frame. My boy hole would be fully accessible. Sir would come up behind me, kneel down, and start licking my boy hole. Does that surprise you? Sir enjoys rimming me. He loves to make me squirm and squeal with pleasure. He knows I'll always keep myself squeaky clean for him just as He does for me. I love feeling His tongue inside my boy chute. I love the feeling of His mustache scratching my hole. I don't think there's anything more humble than sticking your tongue in another man's rectum. Can you get more physically intimate than that? This is one way we humble ourselves for each other.
After preparing my hole with His spit, Sir would add some lube. Then He'd position His cock outside my entrance. He'd rub it all around the circumference of my button. Then He'd stick the tip in and work it around a little bit. Then He'd press in a bit further. Then a bit further until he felt my ring relax. Then He knows He's clear to drive His shaft home. I'd stick my butt out as far as the pillory would allow. Then Sir would start thrusting into His territory. I love hearing and feeling His balls slap up against my ass. This is when my nub cage takes on a life of its own. It keeps alternating between slapping up against my tummy and dropping as far as it can go between my legs. My balls take a beating, but it feels fantastic! Sir keeps hitting home until I feel His cock expand inside me. Then His balls unload Their contents deep up my boy chute. I'm most happy when I'm giving Sir pleasure. Then He'd slowly withdraw. I especially like it when Sir stuffs a butt plug up my hole to keep His man seed from spilling out. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Sometimes when Sir is fucking me, I experience a boygasm. I try not to since it takes my focus off of Sir's cock. I also hate making a sticky mess all over the place. Since my cage is bouncing from my stomach to down between my legs, my boy juice flies everywhere. It's SO embarrassing! Sir just roars with laughter. He loves that I can cum hands-free, in my tiny cage, just from Him fucking me. He also can feel my boy hole tense up just before I cum, so that gives Him more pleasure too. I can't do anything about the mess until after Sir cums, so I must stay in position and force myself to keep clenching and relaxing my hole to match Sir's thrusts. After Sir cums and withdraws, I'm free to start cleaning up. Sir loves how my face (and ears!) turn so red when I see the mess I've made. Sometimes, Sir thinks it's so cute when I'm miserable and embarrassed that He just tackles me, and we wind up rolling around in my mess. It's no problem for Sir! We wind up taking a shower together. Then it's up to me to get the bed sheets changed. Oh, yeah, and wipe down the headboard! LOL!
I'm sitting in the stocks with my head resting on my right shoulder. I'm not asleep, I'm just wiped out. Then I start hearing the little click that the latch on the hand stocks make when you push up on the frame with your arms. It's not coming from me. Then I realize it's coming from the boy on my right. I glance over at him. He has got this goofy grin on his face. Then he opens his hands and turns them, so the fingers on both hands point to the right. His feet are also pointing to the right. Then he moves his hands and feet to the left. Then he starts dancing in the stocks! Okay, that's funny. I guess he's trying to repay all the entertainment I gave him while I was being torture tickled in the stocks. I give him an open-mouthed smile and nod back.
He's a cute boy. I think Sir would like him. Sir and I do play with other guys and couples. When we do play with other guys, they have to be into both of us. It won't do to have a boy that only wants to play with Sir. A guy that only wants to play with me isn't acceptable either. But if this boy wanted to play with both Sir and me, that would be doable.
Although there's a bit of an age difference, this boy doesn't seem to mind. He just sees me as another boy, which is what I am. He seems cool. Unfortunately, it isn't like I can give him my phone number!
There again seems to be action around the stocks. A couple guys are being removed. Minders are bringing more guys our way.
The African American Minder is heading my way dragging a guy with him. This guy is a bit overweight... not that I have a problem with that. I guess the guy is in his 40's. He seems nervous and embarrassed. I turn away since I don't want to make it worse for him.
The Minder says, "Okay, sub, this is your spot."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that the guy has a difficult time getting situated on the bench. I can smell his armpits; they're really rank. I don't mind. I understand why he's nervous if this is his first time. Perhaps he's not really into it. I feel bad for him. After he's properly restrained, I steal a glance his way, but he just keeps his head down. Poor guy.
"Hello, boy." It's my Minder. He's sneaked up on me again. This time he's behind me.
"Hello, sir," I reply.
"Did you miss me?" he says sarcastically.
"Yes sir, I missed you terribly, sir," I say, equally sarcastically.
"Well, I'm back, boy," he continues, "with a special treat just for you."
"A treat just for me, sir?" I question.
"Just for you, boy," he responds. "You've been sitting here all this time, and I'm afraid you're getting bored. Are you getting bored, boy?" he asks.
"No, sir," I say, "I'm not bored at all. I've just been sitting here thinking about how I can be a better boy, sir."
"Well, I think you can be a better boy by sporting these tit clamps, boy," he says. "Would you like me to put these clamps on your boy nips, boy?" he questions.
I know the only correct response. "Oh yes, please, sir," I whine, "please put my boy nips in those tit clamps, sir."
"Okay, boy," he says, "if you insist." He then squeezes my right nip and applies the clamp. Then he applies another clamp to my left nip. There's a chain connecting the two clamps.
"How does that feel, boy?" he asks.
"It feels great, sir," I reply, "Thank you for clamping my boy nips, sir, I really appreciate it."
"No problem, boy," he says, "I just don't want you to fall asleep, boy."
"No, sir," I reply, "I won't be falling asleep with these clamps digging into my nips, sir."
"Glad to hear it, boy," he says, "I'll be back later." Then he disappears down the row of stocks.
The tit clamps actually feel great. My focus is drawn from my aching back, sore butt, and bruised limbs to my boy nips. The clamps don't have teeth in them, they merely impose a dull ache. I love my Minder.
I notice that the stocks are full up! Every station is taken. The solitary foot stocks are full up, too. Even the cages are filling up. "Geesh, Sir," I think to myself, "How much did this cost you?" I don't want to burden Sir with the cost of fulfilling my perverted fantasies.
I catch the eye of the boy next to me, and we start doing exercises together. First, we move as far forward on the bench as the stocks will allow. Then we back up halfway. Then we raise our right butt cheek, followed by our left. Then we move as far backward on the bench as the stocks will allow. We're doing it at the same time and having a blast. I completely forget how much I hurt all over. I decide that I love this boy.
Then the African American Minder is back. I'm surprised since I don't think much time has passed since the last change. He has something in his hand.
"I have a special treat for you losers stuck in the stocks," he exclaims. "This past weekend, I worked out and played rugby in this jockstrap," he continued. "It's been drenched in my ball sweat," he says. "One of you lucky losers is going to have the privilege of wearing this jockstrap over your nose and mouth," he says.
"Oh, no sir," I say, "please don't make me wear your rank jockstrap over my nose, sir."
"Oh, God, please no sir," the boy to my right pipes up, "please don't force me to smell your ball sweat while I'm stuck in the stocks."
"It would be terrible to have to sit here on this bench with my hands and feet trapped between these wooden frames and forced to smell your ball sweat, sir," I counter.
"It would be cruel and unusual punishment to have to smell your ball sweat with every breath, sir," the boy to my right states authoritatively.
"Why, I might pass out from the overpowering smell of your manliness, sir," I argue.
"I wouldn't be able to take inhaling the sweat from your scrotum, sir," the boy warns, "I might die!" he states dramatically.
"Okay, okay, boys, settle down," the Minder says, "age before beauty, I guess." He then comes up behind me and pushes his jockstrap down over my face. The pouch covers my nose and mouth. I inhale exquisite man- musk. He then uses the waistband to tie the jock around my neck so it won't come off.
I won the prize! I inhale man-musk with every breath. All my aches and pains disappear. I do feel bad for the boy, though.
I glance over at him. He's smiling at me. I know he's jealous, but I guess I won fair and square. There aren't any hard feelings.
So, my butt is on this hard, wooden bench, my hands and feet are trapped in these wooden holes, my boy nips are clamped, and I'm inhaling this hot man's ball sweat. It's as if my nose is buried in his hot, hairy scrotum. My heart is beating very fast, my breathing is speeding up, my mind is racing, my boy nuts are contracting, and... I'm having a boygasm. Oh, jeesh, the boy juice just squirts out of my nub. There's nothing I can do to stop it. Since I'm wearing a cage, it's more like a ruined orgasm than a real man's orgasm. It still feels good, though. I hope I can pee later to clear the catheter of my cum. This is so embarrassing, I'm such a mess. Sir would just be shaking His head.
I'm sitting here with my head hanging between my arms, totally spent. Dare I glance at the boy? I slowly turn his way. His eyebrows are up to his hairline. He's looking at me like, "Really, dude?" I just shrug my shoulders and open my hands with my palms facing up. He laughs out loud. There are no hard feelings between us. Sometimes a boy just needs to be a boy. Now that I've cum, sort of, I realize how much this jockstrap stinks. Wow, this thing is really rank. But then I know that all of us guys sweat. We can't help it. Sweat likes to collect around our ballsacks. When we wear jockstraps, all that sweat gets absorbed into the pouch holding our balls. I just need to sit here and smell this guy's sweat for a while. It's okay. Don't panic.
What's not okay is all the aches and pains that return after my boygasm. It's overwhelming. I need to focus on something else. I get the boy's attention by raising my arms to get the latch on the hand stocks to click. We then start doing our exercises together again.
It's not long after this that I see my Minder walking down the path behind the stocks coming towards me.
"Okay, boy," he says, "what the hell?" he questions as he sees the jockstrap tied over my face.
"It's a long story, sir," I reply.
He quickly unties the waistband of the jockstrap and lifts it off my face. I can breathe fresh air again! Then he drops it down on the face of the boy and ties the waistband around the boy's neck to secure it.
"There boy," my Minder says, "enjoy that."
"Yes, sir," the boy replies, "thank you, sir."
"Your time is up, boy," my Minder says, "it's time to get you out of this contraption."
"Yes, sir," I say, "thank you, sir." I think I'm ready to leave. It's been fun, but all good things must come to an end.
I gasp in pain as my Minder removes the tit clamps. They've been attached for a while now, and my boy nips are sore. Then he unlocks the padlock securing the hand stocks. He flips up the latch and opens the top frame. I withdraw my hands. They're quite sore. They probably wouldn't be this sore if I had just sat here and not moved my hands, but you try to sit still when someone's tickling your feet!
"Okay, boy," my Minder says, "disconnect your catheter."
I reach down between my legs, grab the ends of the tube and catheter, and pull. They separate.
"Okay, boy," my Minder instructs, "just push the bench tube down through the hole in the floor."
It's easy to push it down, and soon it disappears into the floor. Then my Minder hands me a length of tubing.
"Here, boy," he says, "just push the bottom of this tube through the hole in the floor.
I take the tube, line it up with the hole in the floor, and push it through.
"Now, you just need to secure the other end to the bench with this piece of tape, boy," my Minder coaches. He hands me a piece of tape . I use the tape to secure the other end of the tube to the bench.
"Now, this station is all ready for its next miscreant, isn't it, boy?" my Minder questions.
"Yes, sir," I reply, "all ready."
"Okay, boy," my Minder continues, "hands behind your back."
I comply and again feel the cold metal of handcuffs and hear the rachets as they tighten around my wrists. I try to separate my hands and feel the cuffs go taut as the small chain between the cuffs is stretched to its limit.
"I'll see you foot-side, boy," my Minder states.
I glance over at the boy. He's smiling as he watches the whole process intently. He looks pretty silly with the pouch of the jockstrap over his nose and mouth.
My Minder appears on the other side, unlocks the padlock securing my foot stocks, throws up the latch, and opens the top portion of the frame.
"Okay, boy," my Minder says, "you can remove your feet now."
I gingerly pull first my left foot and then my right foot out from the frame. I can see my feet again. There's a red ring around the top of both feet where I kept pulling them back against their holes.
My Minder appears behind me again.
"Okay, boy," he says, "stand up and step over the bench."
I stand up, a bit shakily. My Minder grabs me by my right bicep, so I don't keel over. Oh, heck my back aches. Ouch, my butt hurts. I throw my right leg over the bench, put all my weight on it, and pull my left leg over the bench as well. I'm now standing behind the stocks.
"Okay, boy," my Minder says, "let's get you out of here."
I take one last look at the boy sitting in the stocks with that rank jockstrap tied down over his nose. I hope he enjoys it as much as I did. Maybe he'll get lucky, and a Minder will clamp those tit clamps on his nips.
We retrace our steps along the back of the stocks. It's okay that my sentence is up.
We come upon the door again. My Minder holds his keycard over the sensor, and I hear the latch disengage. He then pushes the door open. We pass over the threshold and the door slams shut behind us. He then guides me to the right and back down the hallway of doors. We get to the door marked with a '3', and we stop. He again places his keycard over the sensor on the door. The latch clicks. He releases his grip on my right bicep, steps behind me, and grabs me by my left bicep. He pulls the door open.
"Okay, boy," he says, "in you go."
I step into room number 3. There's the same crate with my clothes in it sitting on the bench. There's also an empty plastic bag marked "Bio-Hazard" on the bench.
"Okay, boy," he says, "up against the wall."
I make my way to the wall.
He steps up behind me. I hear the key in the lock of the cuff on my left wrist. It swings open, and my left arm is free. He puts the key in the lock of the cuff on my right wrist. It swings open, and my right arm is free. He closes the cuffs and puts them back on his belt.
"Okay, boy," he says, "remove your catheter, put it in the plastic bag, and seal it. Then go ahead and get dressed. When you're dressed, push the call button. Any questions?"
"No, sir," I reply, "I don't have any questions."
"Great," he says, "see you in a bit."
I use my fingers to slowly unroll the catheter from my cage. I'll clean the glue off in the shower tonight. My cum still fills the end of the catheter. I drop it in the bag and seal it. I pull on my pants and t-shirt. Then I sit down to put on my shoes.
I stand up and glance in the mirror. I guess I look okay for someone who has just spent the last four hours stuck in the stocks.
I push the call button. I sit back down on the bench.
I hear the latch release and watch the door open. My Minder enters the room. He's holding a clipboard.
"Zac?" he says.
I'm stunned. What a return to reality. I stand up.
"Um, yes?" I stutter.
"Hi, Zac," he says, "my name's Jack." He offers his hand to shake.
I rouse myself from my stupor.
"Hi, Jack," I say, "nice to meet you." I shake his hand.
"How was your experience today," he asks, "did you enjoy it?"
"Oh, yes, Jack," I say, "it was amazing!"
"Good, Zac, good, glad to hear that," Jack says.
"I didn't go too hard on you, did I? he asks. "You seemed to handle yourself pretty well," he offers.
"No, Jack," I say, "you were great. Thank you for an awesome experience."
"I really appreciate how respectful and polite you were through the whole experience," Jack says.
"Well," I say, "I am a boy."
Jack laughs. "Yes, Zac," he says, "you're a very good boy."
"Hey, Zac," Jack says deferentially, "if your sir gets a chance, I'd really appreciate it if he could give feedback on my performance."
"Of course," I respond, "I'm sure he'd be happy to give you great feedback."
"Hey, man," Jack says, "I'd really appreciate that."
"Would you like to make any comments, or do you have any questions about your experience today?" Jack asks.
"No, Jack," I reply. "Thank you for everything. You were the best Minder," I say.
"Hey, thanks, Zac," Jack says. "I hope to see you back for a future experience," he says.
"That's up to my Sir, Jack," I reply.
"Of course," he says and offers a genuine smile.
"Well," Jack says, "if there's nothing else, I guess I'll send you on your way."
He places his keycard over the sensor, the latch clicks, and he pushes the door open.
"After you, Zac," he says as he motions me to exit through the door.
"Thank you, Jack," I say as I step through the doorway.
"The exit is to your left, Zac," Jack offers. Just push the bar on the door, and it will open. The door will automatically lock behind you," Jack offers.
"Thank you, Jack," I say, "Have a nice day."
"You too, Zac," Jack says, "you, too."
I turn left and make my way to the black metal door at the end of the hallway. There's a sign on the door that says, 'No Re-entry'.
I push the bar; the door opens, and I step out into the sunshine.
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