Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Fri Nov 21, 2014 4:10 pm

Image
MISSING SINCE JULY: Dillon


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


Dillon let out a sigh as he fiddled with the dials on his car stereo, finally settling on some nondescript indie song. He reclined back into the driver's seat, trying to get comfortable. It was going to be a long night. It was only his second week working for the car service, but already the monotony of the part-time job routine had begun to sink in.

A few evenings a week he would park by the college campus near his house, and wait for his phone to buzz. College students--usually drunk ones--would open an app and request a ride. Their location would push through to Dillon's phone, and he'd drive over and pick them up. It was a simple concept... a taxi service for the modern age. At 24 years old, it wasn't exactly how Dillon pictured his life, but this--like all things--was only temporary.

He had dropped out of college a couple years earlier. Some people just aren't cut out for the "traditional" route, and in Dillon's case that became apparent very quickly. This estranged him from his parents, who had rather lofty ambitions for their son's career. Nonetheless, Dillon now knew that his future didn't lie behind a desk in some office--no, something in his heart called him towards adventure. The plan (such as it was) would have him do anything and everything to save up cash, and fast. Right now, he might be stuck driving drunk college kids from tailgate to frat party, but 6 months from now he'd be halfway across the world. Nothing but a map in hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. Yeah, "traditional" wasn't the life he had in mind.

He was handsome, but not intimidatingly so. Tall, broad shouldered but lanky. Bright, sparkling green eyes and small black gauges in each ear. He had dark hair with a gentle wave, which tonight he kept under a black Supreme snapback. He wore a simple grey v-neck under a black hoodie and black leather jacket. His dark blue skinny jeans were just a bit too short, showing off the black vans old skool high tops on his feet.

BZZZZZT

Dillon jerked forward in his seat--how long was I out? he thought. Either way, it was showtime... first customer of the night. The drive was short, only a few blocks away at one of the many small dive bars in the area. As he pulled up to the curb, Dillon could just make out his pick-up: a short, thin black teen. Maybe 19 or 20 years old. He raised an arm, flagging Dillon down as he approached. Doesn't seem too drunk yet, but it's still early...

Dillon rolled down the passenger side window.

"Terrel?"
"Yeah, that's right," the teen entered the car and sat down.
"So, where you headed to tonight?"
"Not far... just a couple blocks down that way," he gestured to a quiet residential area, near a big city park that closed in the evenings.

The drive was mostly silent... eerily so, with Dillon feeling compelled to drive the conversation. Terrel responded mostly in nods or short, terse grunts of acknowledgement. He was calm, peaceful, but there was something about his demeanor that betrayed tension and unease.

"Yeah, right up there's good," Terrel pointed a short distance down the street, "turn in here."
"I think it's closed-"
"It's cool," he snapped.

Dillon pulled off the main road, taking them into a throughway through the park. It was dark, and uncharacteristically creepy at this time of night. The only signs of life were the occasional rustling of the tall, densely packed trees that towered all around them.

SLAM

Two dark figures piled into the backseat.

"Wha-" Dillon's reaction was cut violently short by a gloved hand from the backseat, clamping firmly over his mouth.

Dillon glanced over at Terrel helplessly. The teen's expression was one not of surprise, but menace. And in his hand, a matte black handgun of sorts, pointed in Dillon's direction.

"Now you shut your mouth. Don't make me have to use this."

A fourth figure, clad in all black and a face mask leaned in through the driver's side window, and snapped cold metal handcuffs on each of Dillon's wrists. The middle chain was looped through one of the spokes on the steering wheel, binding him to it as the sound of duct tape unspooling off the roll echoed from the backseat.

The hand released Dillon's mouth. He exhaled sharply, just as shiny grey tape was thrust around his jaw and the back of the headrest. The first few rolls, his mouth was open, forcing the tape between his teeth. Eventually, the layers began to take hold, sealing his lips tightly together and muffling his grunts. By the time the process was over, Dillon had half a roll of duct tape securing his head to the seat, and--as Terrel ordered--forcing his mouth shut.

"hummm" Dillon offered pleadingly. But deep down he knew--even if he could talk, his cries would go unheeded.
"Phi Kappa Psi. Drive," Terell ordered.

Dillon knew the name. He knew the place. But could his captors really be frat boys? Hazing had been banned from the campus several years prior, due to the death of two pledges, but even still, Dillon wasn't pledging anywhere. He wasn't even a college student anymore! His mind raced anxiously as he tried to anticipate what possible reason anyone would have to kidnap him, and just what kind of trouble he was in.

They pulled up to the house--a large, two story building with a basement. All the lights were off. Are these guys even in this fraternity? Terrel shifted the car into park, and he and his boys mobilized immediately. Wordlessly, they went to work on Dillon's helpless body, preparing him for the transfer. They wrapped his handcuffed wrists together in duct tape before unlocking them, ensuring that he remained tightly bound. His ankles were similarly wrapped, and his legs were forced up into a bend. They secured him in this position by encasing the joints in tape, all around his knees in all directions. The same was done to his arms at the elbows, forcing them into a similar bent position. As a final measure, they wrapped a few layers of tape over his vans, keeping his feet tightly together.

Finally, one of the men took a knife and cut through the copious layers of tape that had kept Dillon gagged on the drive over. It stuck to his lips painfully as it was peeled off his face.

"P-please! Can I just ask one thi-"
"Nah, man," Terrel shoved the barrel of his gun into Dillon's open mouth. It felt strange... warm, and plastic-like.

A masked man pulled off two more long strips of tape, and handed them to Terrel. He carefully sealed them over Dillon's lips, but they both knew it wouldn't hold if Dillon were to really scream. It was a message--keep quiet, or die.

The largest of the masked men scooped Dillon up out of the driver's seat. It would be a ridiculous sight to anyone--a grown man cocooned in tape, carried helplessly like a baby. Dillon wondered what might happen if a neighbor saw... would they call the cops? Or just mistake the scene for another hazing prank? Either way, he didn't hold out much hope that anyone would come looking for him.

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -



TO BE CONTINUED :tied:
Last edited by there is no sam on Thu Feb 12, 2015 2:06 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tony2 » Fri Nov 21, 2014 6:21 pm

Spooky! Good start. Thanks for posting it.
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.


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Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby xtc » Sat Nov 22, 2014 5:00 am

Welcome back. Long time, no see.
I welcome a well written start to the tale.
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Mon Nov 24, 2014 4:54 pm

Image
THE KIDNAPPER: Terrel


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


Dillon's taped up body was dumped roughly into the middle of a darkened room towards the back of the house. With only the moonlight illuminating the space, Dillon could just make out the shadowed outlines of some furniture. A window, a door... the only things he'd need if he got the opportunity to run. Dark figures shifted around the edges--his captors were watching. Dillon's breathing grew heavy, labored as the desperation of his situation amplified. He wheezed against the tape sealing his mouth. He could break it if he tried. Should he scream for help?

He felt someone approach behind him. A sheath of cold metal brushed against Dillon's wrist, causing him to flinch. The figure grabbed his arm roughly in turn, holding him down. Dillon felt the tension release from his wrists--the figure was cutting him loose! Dillon brought his hands in front of him, rubbing his wrists gratefully. The figure continued on to his arms and legs, and within minutes, Dillon was completely free of his bonds. Gingerly, Dillon began to stand, but before he could--

A bright spotlight was thrust into his eyes.

"GET YOUR ASS DOWN. ON THE FLOOR, MAN. LET'S GO." Terrel charged toward Dillon from out of the shadows, his gun raised.

With scarcely a second to react, Dillon slipped backward onto the floor. He stared at the gun, wild-eyed as Terrel towered over him.

"DO YOU WANT TO DIE TONIGHT?" Dillon could only sputter in response. "SIMPLE FUCKING QUESTION, MAN. DO YOU WANT TO DIE?"

"N-no. No...pl-please no." It was all he could manage with a gun six inches from his face.

A moment of silence followed, seemingly infinite for all the dread it held. Dillon felt certain the trigger had been pulled, and his brain had yet to process it. But then, all the malice drained from Terrel's face--his expression softening for the first time that evening. He pulled back from Dillon, seeming to mean him no harm. He let out a hearty laugh, pointing at Dillon as if they had just shared a joke among friends.

"You... you should see your face right now," Terrel sputtered, between laughing fits, "man, I think you was about ready to shit yourself."

Someone flicked a switch, and light filled the room. Dillon looked around at all the laughing faces of young men surrounding him. A few were clad in black--his captors--but most appeared to be entirely ordinary college students. Dillon was dumbstruck, trying to process the events of the past 5 minutes. Terrel gestured broadly to the gun in his hand before pulling the trigger in Dillon's face.

A liquid began to dribble slowly down his forehead. Holly shit! Is that blood? Dillon touched a tentative finger to the "wound"... it was tequila.

"Wh... s-so this... I, um," Dillon let out a small chuckle under his breath--a mixture of relief and exasperation.

"It's a prank, man. Just a joke!" Terrel grinned from ear to ear, milking reactions from the crowded room. "Your boy set this up. Yo he a sick fuck, huh?"

"My... boy? What do you me-?"

"Yeah, you know your friend. What's his name again?" Terrel offered a hand to help him to his feet, but Dillon only eyed it warily.

CLINK

Dillon's eyes shot over to the far corner of the room. In his excitement, a member of the crowd had just dropped his athletic bag, inadvertently revealing the lengths of chains and assorted restraints inside.

"Ohhh, yeah that's right," Terrel remembered in theatrical fashion, "you don't got any.

With no time to formulate an escape plan, Dillon grabbed the first thing within reach--Terrel's hand--and used it to propel himself onto his feet. Terrel was thrust headfirst into the floor, but Dillon couldn't spare a second to look back. He had to reach the doorway.

He bolted through the threshold and into the hallway--the front door was now in sight. All he had to do was just-

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT

A sharp tingling sensation shot up Dillon's spine. The world around him blurred, and he began thrusting violently. He lost all control of his motor functions--another step would've been an impossible task. As he fell to the floor, he lost all feeling of dread and panic. All feeling of anything, really. He drifted gently out of consciousness. It wouldn't be until much later that Dillon would learn he was tazered.

The boys slowly trickled into the hallway to witness what had become of their captive. They watched as two of their brood grabbed Dillon's ankles, dragging his limp body back to the very room from which he had just escaped moments before. Terrel surveyed the scene intently.

"We're your friends now, bitch."

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -



TO BE CONTINUED :gag:
Last edited by there is no sam on Thu Feb 12, 2015 2:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby chadmc90 » Tue Nov 25, 2014 12:00 pm

Certianly an interesting way to befriend someone...

Good job, man. Please continue.
Check out my latest story A Cowboy's Dream!

Feedback highly appreciated! Feel free to Private Message me if you prefer to not post on the public forum!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Tue Dec 09, 2014 1:19 pm

Image
THE RIGHT HAND MAN: Damian


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


"Yo, hand me that chain over there."
...
"Needa get this nikka under control, man. This shit can't be happening again."
...
"So what you wanna gag his mouth with?"
...


Dillon slowly pried an eye open, squinting groggily into the bright light as consciousness returned to him. If he had momentarily forgotten his current plight, reality began to sink in as the harsh sting of cold metal nipped at his wrists. He made a tentative attempt to lift his hand, but found his wrists bound by cuffs and a short chain. His feet were similarly restrained by a pair of light shackles, with only three links of chain between them. They weren't taking any chances on another escape attempt. A padlock looped through the middle of both chains secured his hands tightly to his feet, forcing him to hunch over his curled up legs.

"Mmmwha...?" Dillon grunted.

"Oh look, he's waking up," Terrel smiled, "I gotta be honest with you, man. You... you startin' to piss me off."

"I- Please... what is thi-?" Dillon's pleas were cut short by a firm hand pressed across his mouth from behind. It was one of the larger boys from before--Damian. His tall, broad-shouldered frame would intimidate a linebacker.

"Now, now, did I say you could speak? You needa watch yo mouth around me." Terrel obviously relished his new found power.

Dillon averted his eyes like a scolded puppy. He shifted uncomfortably in Damian's tight grasp. Terrel's attention turned to Damian.

"Go get me something that can shut this fool up for good." Damian nodded and left the room, leaving Terrel and DIllon alone.

"Look... something you needa understand. You ain't leaving here again. Ever. No amount of pleading or bargaining is gonna change that. Okay?"

"I just... don't understand. Why?" Dillon looked up at Terrel pleadingly, hoping to appeal to his sense of humanity.

Terrel's face contorted with rage. He flew at Dillon, knocking him onto his back and landing on top of him. He pulled off his navy blue Converse All Star low top and shoved it roughly into Dillon's mouth lengthwise, wedging it between his teeth and forcing his tongue down. Dillon choked and sputtered as the sneaker gagged him. Terrel reached for the duct tape, and began wrapping it around Dillon's head and the shoegag, cocooning it firmly inside his mouth. All Dillon could do was wheeze and moan helplessly, as his voice was once again taken away from him.

"You think this was an accident? You don't think there's a reason why you tied up here? Chained up like a dog with another man's Chuck Taylor shoved into yo mouth? You were chosen. We've been watching you, we know you ain't got no ties to nobody. Who's gonna miss you if you never come back?"

Dillon mmphed into his gag, futilely squirming against his chains. What did they have planned for him? He feared for his life.

Terrel reaches inside Dillon's jacket pocket and retrieves his iPhone. He shoves it into Dillon's bound hands.

"Now you gonna make a call. Tell yo momma that you good, and you gon take that long ass trip you been talking about. Don't know when you'll be back."

Dillon's throat tightened. They knew... everything. He considered the sea of faces that surrounded him earlier that evening. So many were... familiar somehow. The college students he'd been driving around since he started working for the car service. He had been targeted. Tracked. They learned everything they could about him, until they were sure he was "the one" that they needed.

He fumbled with his phone's unlock screen, finding it difficult to maneuver around the touchscreen with the restraints keeping him pinned. He eyed Terrel warily, unsure of how closely he was watching. One thing was for sure--this could be his last chance, and he had to do something. Cautiously, he swiped the "Emergency" tab on the lock screen. Within two swipes, it would automatically call 9-1-1. He couldn't provide much information in his current state, but he knew the call and GPS data would be more than enough to prompt a police visit.

It began to ring. A silent call for help.

"Man, what the fuck's taking so long?" Terrel reached for the phone, frustrated.

Hurriedly, Dillon hung up the call, unsure if it had even gone through. Terrel took a knife and slid the tape off Dillon's mouth. It hung around his neck like a loose bandana, with the shoe still precariously hanging from it. Terrel demanded the unlock code, and Dillon acquiesced, praying that help would soon arrive.

"It's ringing," Terrel thrust the phone up to Dillon's mouth, as a call to his mom went through.

"Hello?" A woman's voice rang out through the speakerphone.

"M-mom? It's... me. Dillon." He paused, looking up at Terrel, "Listen, I... uh, I'm going away for a while."

"Going away? What do you mean?"

"I'm, uh, going to take that backpacking trip I told you about." Dillon looked down at a notebook Terrel had thrust into his chest. He had written Dillon some "lines".

"I-I'm taking the 6am flight to Honduras and you... you won't hear from me again for a long time." Dillon recited, hanging his head in defeat.

Dillon's voice began to waver as despair welled up inside him. A tear rolled down his cheek.

"Dillon, honey are you alright? This seems rather sudden-"

"Y-yes. Yeah, I'm... I'll talk to you soo-" Terrel hung up the phone, and placed it gently on the floor. He smiled cryptically at Dillon before bringing his foot down hard on the phone, smashing it beyond repair.

He grimaced as he dangled the busted phone in front of Dillon's face, taunting him with his last remaining connection to the outside world. Then, he thrust the phone against the wall.

Damian returned, carrying several lengths of heavy chain and a translucent white goop in a ziploc bag--it resembled a more viscous form of play-doh. He knelt down and unlocked the padlock binding Dillon's handcuffs to his shackles. They stood him up, helping him to remain balanced as his shackled feet found footing.

A long, heavy chain several feet long was then padlocked onto his shackles by one end. Damian wound the metal bind tightly around Dillon's legs, reaching above his knees until only chain was visible from his feet up. That was secured with another padlock, tying his legs tightly together. A thin chain attached to a large plastic box was secured around his waist, and his cuffed wrists were placed inside the box. These resembled the regulation prisoner transport restraints, and they forced Dillon's hands to remain in front of him at waist-level. His upper body was then wrapped in another length of long, thick chain, binding his arms tightly to his sides. Damian and Terrel each grabbed an arm, and helped DIllon to lay flat on his back on the floor. They were ready to put on the finishing touch.

"This shit right here," Terrel held up the ziploc bag of white goop, "it's enough to keep your--"

Suddenly, there was a loud pounding at the door. Terrel and Damian froze, like deer in the headlights.

Within moments, a short, pudgy 20 year old was standing in the doorway, panting.

"Who's outside?" Terrel snapped.

"The police..."

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited by there is no sam on Thu Feb 12, 2015 2:10 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby NemesisPrime » Fri Jan 16, 2015 5:04 am

Please keep going! I wanna know how this all turns out!
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Shanyalovestape » Fri Jan 16, 2015 6:46 am

I don't usually like m/m but this story is so awesome!! Good Job!
Just your average,bondage-loving asian girl

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby BelltwinJ0sh » Fri Jan 16, 2015 11:01 am

Please keep going this is really good I hope Dillon gets punished for calling the cops

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby BelltwinAlex » Sun Jan 18, 2015 9:55 am

Continue please

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby chadmc90 » Sun Jan 18, 2015 10:08 am

Man, nice story! I like how they THINK they're in control, but are making all these mistakes. Keep it up!
Check out my latest story A Cowboy's Dream!

Feedback highly appreciated! Feel free to Private Message me if you prefer to not post on the public forum!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tony2 » Sun Jan 18, 2015 11:24 am

goop, goop --gotta see what it is!! thanks for posting. good story.
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.


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Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Tue Feb 10, 2015 1:58 pm

Image
THE DECOY: Cristian


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


The muffled sounds of harried shuffling could be heard from downstairs, as a handful of would-be kidnappers rushed to hide all traces of their victim. They could throw the unused chains in the crawlspace, the bag of assorted gags into the dryer, and the copious pile of rope could convincingly pass as innocuous if thrown into the tool shed -- but as for the bound young man upstairs... that would call for a more elegant solution.

There, in the middle of an unused corner bedroom, Dillon lay flat on his back, hopelessly tied in various chains, cuffs, shackles and padlocks. It was the kind of predicament from which there was no simple escape -- in fact, short of keys or a bolt cutter, his bondage situation was uncomfortably permanent.

BANG
BANG
BANG


More pounding at the front door.

"Terrel!" A voice shouted out anxiously from below.

But he remained cool. Collected. At ease under pressure.

"Five more minutes, man!" he shouted back, "just need five more minutes and we good."

Dillon wanted desperately to call out, but Terrel had planted his navy chuck taylor-clad foot firmly over Dillon's throat, thoroughly restricting its function. Terrel reached for the bag of white goop, stoic and focused as he moved quickly to silence his prisoner. He pinched Dillon's nose, forcing the breath out of his body. Dillon resisted for as long as he could, to the point his vision blurred. His faint, tentative groans did little to attract attention. When he finally relented, Terrel poured the entire contents of the ziploc bag into Dillon's gasping mouth. He swiftly thrust both hands over Dillon's mouth and jaw, attempting to force his lips together as the viscous substance rolled around inside.

"Don't swallow it."

Dillon heeded this ominous warning, and soon found a curious sensation filling the insides of his mouth. He could feel the liquid swishing around his orifice, seeping into every gap within it. Between teeth, around his tongue, sealing and binding the void as it began to rapidly thicken. Within 60 seconds, Dillon's mouth had hardened shut from the inside out, his teeth stuck together and his tongue firmly planted to the floor of his mouth by this dense, rubbery foam. He moaned meekly in horror, unsure of what had just happened to him, or if it could ever be reversed. Later, he would come to learn that this substance was a particularly potent variety of dental cement -- the quantity and application of which was far outside of the recommended usage. Dillon's breathing grew rapid and wheezy as he struggled to adjust to breathing through his nose alone.

Terrel produced a small bottle of industrial grade superglue out of his back pocket, and began applying it generously to Dillon's lips. Overkill, no doubt, but there was a faint glimmer of desperation in Terrel's manner now. A single strip of duct tape placed over top ensured the drying process would take effect. To glance at him now, you would see only a light tape gag, unaware of the horrors that lay beneath. In a final blaze of glory act, Terrel made the split second decision to pour super glue into the many locks and keyholes that adorned Dillon's bonds. This would take hours, even days to extricate him from later, but in the event things went south, Terrel had only one concern -- to ensure that Dillon would never be freed. That he would lay bound, gagged and forgotten for the rest of his life.

Just then, a small latino teen with diamond studs rushed in.

"They're coming in, T. The cops are in the house-" he reported breathlessly.

Terrel paused a moment, eying Dillon's helpless form. He slowly unspooled some duct tape from the roll, and turned to the latino boy with a smirk.

"Close the door."

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


"Hey, yo I'm serious! Did anyone here call the cops? Damian? Own up, man," a tall black senior who went by the name Wentz held court for the police downstairs.

He made a big show of leading them through hallways and corridors, calling out his frat brothers at the top of his lungs. It's just another dumb prank... some stupid pledge too amped up on red bull and fireball shots. These things happen all the time at frats, right? Boys will be boys, after all. But much to Wentz's dismay, these particular cops weren't taking the bait.

"I'm just... to be honest, I dunno. I mean, you sure you got the call from this house? I-"

"Can we take a look upstairs?" one cop gruffly interrupted.

The population of the frat house froze at that moment. Their entire operation hinged on Wentz's response. After a moment's pause...

"Uh, um yeah. Sure, no problem." Wentz gestured for the officers to lead the way.

They marched upstairs and fanned out, giving a quick sweep through each of the closed doors. Nothing seemed out of place, beyond a bong here and there.

"MMMMPH!!"

A muffled cry rang out from the far corner. The cops exchanged glances of concern. The nearest officer burst through the door.

"BACK ROOM! BACK ROOM!" The three unformed men fell in behind Officer Gardner, surveying the scene that lay before them.


There stood Terrel, towering over the squirming, quivering latino teen. He was on his knees with his hands taped behind his back and several layers of duct tape pinning his arms to his chest. He wore a backwards snapback, which had been incorporated into an elaborate tape gag that wrapped vertically around his jaw and head, combined with several layers around his mouth. He was effectively shut up, but his honey colored eyes -- wide as saucers -- communicated a degree of fear and humiliation. Only one of his black chuck taylor high tops was currently on his feet. The other was in Terrel's hand, being held firmly over the boy's nose. The boy shifted uncomfortably as everyone watched his torment. He "mmph'd" against the tape gag.

Terrel dropped everything and raised his hands calmly, slowly turning to face the police in the doorway.

"Sorry! Sorry, officers. Just a bit 'a hazing, that's it."

"On the floor! Now!" Terrel begrudgingly acquiesced, summoning every ounce of inner serenity he may have possessed in that moment. An officer handcuffed his hands behind his head. The irony was not lost on him. He chuckled a little... what else could he do?

"Something funny, son?" the arresting officer demanded.

"Nah, nah... just a misunderstanding, it's nothing. I swear."

"Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?" Officer Gardner released the latino boy from his gag. The boy shook his head, no.

They led the boy to the room ext door, and questioned him. The mood was tense amongst the frat brothers, and they awaited their fate. The arresting officer kept a watchful eye on Terrel, who remained handcuffed on the floor.

After what felt like an eternity, Officer Gardner and his men emerged from the room, with the latino teen trailing sheepishly behind. He clutched one of his arms nervously, praying that he gave a convincing performance. Gardner addressed Terrel --

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you that hazing has been banned on this campus, and can lead to some hefty fines. Even jail time."

The room heaved a sigh of secret relief -- they might just make it after all.

He gestured to the latino boy, "And since Cristian here doesn't want to press charges, and this is your first offense... we'll let you off with a warning. But don't make us have to come here again."

And with that, Terrel was released and the cops were ushered out of the house. Had they lingered for a moment longer... had they listened through the intentionally boisterous chatter and shuffling of the frat, they might've heard the faint sounds of struggle and whimpering, emanating from beneath.

Below the wooden floorboards lay Dillon, writhing in the heavy chains that bound him hand and foot. The superglue that tightly sealed his lips combined with the densely packed dental cement made all but the gentlest "mmph" impossible. Nonetheless, they needed Cristian's moans to cover up any unexplained noise. Apart from the squeak of Dillon's Vans Sk8-Hi sneakers rubbing together as he struggled, he was forcefully subdued into complete silence. And now here, hidden under the floorboards and nailed shut inside, it was easy to forget he was even there at all.

"Do you want to get him out of there?" Damian asked.

"Nah, leave him down there for tonight. I got something else to take care of..." Terrel cast his gaze across the room, to Cristian, the unwitting latino teen.

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


TO BE CONTINUED...
Last edited by there is no sam on Thu Feb 12, 2015 2:17 pm, edited 2 times in total.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tony2 » Tue Feb 10, 2015 9:03 pm

Whew! Captivating!!! Good story can't wait for more. Thanks for taking the time to post this.
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.


ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Scottstud94 » Wed Feb 11, 2015 7:35 am

Haha this is great, I love that he is gagged like that

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby BelltwinAlex » Thu Feb 19, 2015 9:30 pm

Nice

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Lake Lover » Thu Feb 26, 2015 8:55 am

Captivating is right!! I am so taken by poor Dillon's plight. It would be awful for anyone to be in that hopeless situation. Please, continue this well written story!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Sealherlips » Mon Mar 16, 2015 3:34 pm

Please continue this. I love the gag.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Wed Mar 25, 2015 10:47 am

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


"Get dressed"

A tangle of wadded up clothing fell onto Cristian's chest. He opened his groggy eyes, still partially asleep. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he came to realize his arms were pinned down on both sides by Damian and Wentz. The commands were coming from Terrel, of course. Cristian attempted to sit up, and they let him, but their grip remained a firm warning against sudden moves. Terrel towered over him as he pulled a thick grey sock from the pile. He shoved it roughly into Cristian's mouth.

"And don't you fucking think about spitting that out, get me?"

Cristian nodded meekly, buttoning up his gray collared shirt. He'd been punished before -- once spending two days locked in a dog cage with a bit gag wedged between his teeth -- but something about this time felt different. This felt final. He wanted to say something, to explain himself, but he knew better than to disobey an order. The sock gag remained.

He took his time lacing up his black high top chucks, praying for something or someone to come in and break the tension. But nothing came. Damian took two nylon zip ties and secured them tightly around Cristian's wrists and ankles before helping him into a nearby office chair on wheels. A thick, black collar was clasped around his neck, and fortified with a metal padlock.

"That right there," Terrel crouched down to Cristian's eye level, gently removing the sock from his gaping mouth, "that's a high grade shock collar. Used to teach police dogs, now I'mma use it to teach you."

Cristian's throat tightened.

"A sho--?" his words were cut brutally short as a sharp, searing jolt was sent through his spine. An involuntary tear began streaming down his cheek--an instantaneous reaction to the pain.

"Nah see, you shut your mouth you might learn somethin'," Terrel couldn't contain a smug grin of satisfaction, "now you needa be straight up in what I'm about to ask you."

"what... exactly... did you say to the cops?"

Cristian's pulse quickened, his answer came like a shot out of his mouth--

"Noth-!"

ZZZZZT

His high strung, knee jerk impulse earned him a quick zap, but it did nothing to quell his beating heart.

"Let me ask you again... what exactly did you tell the cops?"

Cristian took pause, trying desperately to regain some composure through the burning tears in his eyes. Quietly, softly --

"I-I-I didn't. Didn't say an-anything. I swear I didn't."

Terrel leaned back a bit. Let out a sigh. In all of this, his gaze remained fixed on Cristian, a look of bemused appraisal on his face.

"Yeah, man, I mean... that's what I figured. It's just... we kinda got a big thing going down here and uh, I don't feel too right with having loose ends that might fuck that up, know what I'm saying?"

Another sensation ran down Cristian's spine--a cold chill. Terrel's vague words wore heavy on his chest. Like so many of his past pronouncements, Terrel's ominous tone was more than enough to convey his meaning. After a conversation such as this, people tend to disappear. Terrel stood up and walked out the door, seemingly oblivious or indifferent to Cristian's hushed, panicked pleading.

"Please, Terrel. Please don't do this! I-I didn't say anything! I didn't say anything!"

Wentz followed Damian, wheeling Cristian's office chair down the hall and into the garage, where his ultimate fate awaited him. There on the work bench lay several thick, long metal strips, about an inch and a half tall, and of various lengths. The boys stood Cristian up, and began affixing one strip over his ankles, and another around the back, forming one small, tight metal cuff around them. There were screw holes on either side, through which Wentz shoved thick bolt screws. The bolts on all ends were secured, bringing both metal strips tightly together and binding Cristian's ankles. This process was repeated on his calves and thighs, until his legs were completely bolted by these thick, metal bindings.

For his hands, his wrists were pulled in front and similarly encased between two small metal strips, bolted into a tight binding. His arms were then pulled back to his sides, and three layers of metal strip were used to bind his upper body. Satisfied with their work, Wentz began the finishing touch--he began horribly stripping each bolt and screw, to the point where they could not be removed with conventional tools. Cristian was bolted, screwed and encased in metal bonds that could very well hold him for the remainder of his life. Even if someone tried to help him, it would be nearly impossible to safely free him from the metal strips that tightly hugged his skin.

Cristian whimpered. The tears were now freely streaming down his cheeks as helplessly watched his fate be sealed. Just then, Terrel walked in, carrying one last set of straps, not unlike the others but for one aspect. He stood over the mewling latino teen and smirked.

"Terrel, please, man. I didn't... I'm not gonna say a word. You-you know me. I-I-"

"There's not much I can do for you now, man. This shit right here," he tugged at Cristian's metallic bonds, "this is the stuff you put people in when they ain't coming back out."

"Y-you're just going to leave me like this forever? You're gonna keep me here?"

"Well not here, no. See... I called up a coupla these dudes I know. Yeah, they, uh, they not too pro immigrants if you know what I'm sayin'. Matter fact, they pay pretty decent cash if you turn one over to 'em."

"But, I- but, I'm an American! I was born here, I'm n-n-"

"Yeah, well, they not so concerned with the 'details', if you get me."

A spark behind Terrel drew momentary interest from Cristian. It was the light of a flame, as Wentz casually burned Cristian's American passport.

"NO! NO PLEA-!"

ZZZZZT

Cristian's screams were silenced by the cruel bite of electric energy coursing through his veins.

With that, Terrel applied the final piece of the package -- a set of metal straps with a large, stuffed leather ball welded into one side. He forcefully shoved the ball into Cristian's mouth, harshly silencing his tearful pleas.

"Mmmph! Mmm mmmmph!!"

The two metal straps were affixed around Cristian's head, and bolted tightly together in the same fashion as the rest, leaving a tight circle of metal encasing the lower half of his head, and a seemingly permanent gag in his mouth. There was nothing left for him to argue... he was forced into lifelong, bound submission.

Soon after, two husky men--a father and son--came to collect on Terrel's promised bounty. They were highly impressed by the teen's strict bondage, having been accustomed to chasing after their intended targets. Nonetheless, they had a system of their own to adhere to. They handed out several rolls of black gorilla tape to the boys, and they all worked together to tightly wrap and package Cristian up from feet to head, until only his nose was visible. Cristian moaned and shook throughout the whole process, but there was a sense among the men that he was no longer an equal. He was completely ignored as they mummified him in heavy tape.

It was Terrel who finished up his head, and even he took a moment of brief pause before encasing Cristian's pleading, watery eyes.

The men wheeled in a large wooden crate, about four feet long. Cristian was curled up, and forcefully wedged to fit inside before they closed the lid and locked it up. As the men loaded him into the back of their semi-trailer, Terrel mustered the courage to ask the question he feared most:

"So what'll y'all do with him, then?" he asked, trying to act confident in his decision.

"Well you usually lose half of 'em to dehydration or worse 'fore we even get there. The ones who make it out the other end tend to be so disoriented and numb they can't even remember their own name. Those are usually the ones we sell off to the drug cartels as slaves and drug mules. Just a little bit of karmic payback for them wetbacks. Sold back to their own people, how 'bout that?" the father burst out laughing, without a trace of irony or self-reflection.

Terrel swallowed hard. Perhaps the slightest pang of guilt or shame came over him as he came to understand what he had just condemned Cristian to. Nonetheless, there was a job to be done, and this was all a part of the process. Protect the brotherhood above all else, and at any cost.

Cristian knew there might be sacrifices when he was first recruited, and any other man would've done the same in that situation. For the good of the fraternity, and all the good that they did there.

- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


TO BE CONTINUED...

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Scottstud94 » Wed Mar 25, 2015 9:07 pm

wow and I thought Dillon's situation was bad, but but poor Cristian!

That explains how this frat gets the money for all these bonds I guess.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby NemesisPrime » Wed Mar 25, 2015 11:10 pm

Seesh! I hope Christian gets out this :(
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Scottstud94 » Thu Mar 26, 2015 1:07 pm

NemesisPrime wrote:Seesh! I hope Christian gets out this :(


I hope Christian makes it, but I feel like his fate is sealed. As for Dillon I hope he stays like this for the rest of his life. I'd like to know more about Terrel too.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Lake Lover » Fri Mar 27, 2015 8:07 am

Good, well written story and very exciting. But Please!! Give Christian a break. Give Dillon a break. And give me a break -- I can't stand this suspense.

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tiedlad » Sun Jun 07, 2015 11:29 pm

This story is amazing. It's refreshing actually to read a story where the kidnapped guy may not or actually doesn't manage to escape.
I hope this is continued!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Scottstud94 » Mon Jun 08, 2015 1:31 pm

tiedlad wrote:This story is amazing. It's refreshing actually to read a story where the kidnapped guy may not or actually doesn't manage to escape.
I hope this is continued!


I hope he doesn't escape

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby devon1029 » Tue Jun 09, 2015 5:14 pm

While this is usually not my style of story I like to read, I can't help but read more and more. I really really want to know what happens to the poor guy. Please continue this great story :)
Sticks and stones my break my bones but chains and whips excite me. So tie me up and throw me down and show me that you like me

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby there is no sam » Fri Jun 19, 2015 6:01 pm

Image
MISSING SINCE FEBRUARY: Max


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


How long had it been... ?

...

Days? Weeks, maybe...?

...

It would be so easy to just... fall asleep... and

never...

wake...

u-


SSSSCCCccccRRRRrrrraaaaaaee


The deathly silence was punctured by the heaving creak of wooden floorboards. Each was slowly, methodically slid out of place, draping tiny streaks of light into the darkened prison below. There, in a six foot long crevasse lied Dillon, just barely small enough to fit inside the claustrophobic hole he had been hastily forced into.

His shallow breaths were the only sign that he may yet survive this ordeal. His eyes remained gently closed, unable--or perhaps, unwilling--to rejoin the conscious world.

But life had others plans.

"Hey. Hey! C'mon, man. Time to wake up," Terrel leered over the crevasses, reaching down to gently slap DIllon's face, "we got shit to do."

Dillon didn't have much of a say in the matter, bound as he was. Copious chains were wound tightly around his body from shoulder to foot, secured by padlocks in 12 different places. HIs hands remained forcefully secured at his waist by the prisoner transport cuffs, and his ankles were shackled in unforgiving tightness.

He felt numb all over. Every part of him ached.

It wasn't over. It still wasn't over.

---


Dillon slipped in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of his body being roughly dragged down stairs and into a cold, stone basement. He felt a sharp jolt of sensation down his spine, as he was thrust roughly up against a stone wall. His head jilted back in the recoil, smacking the rock with a thud.

"Fuck, man -- watch it with that shit!" Terrel snapped from the dimness.

Dillon felt hands crawling all over him, unsure of where reality ended and the dreams began. One reached for his neck, pushing it back and into a cold, steel ring. Snapping it shut, it encased his neck in a thick, immovable collar that forced him to remain standing. The unknown hands continued to tug at his person, out of DIllon's sight. The only thing he could see now is Terrel, staring straight back at him from four feet away.

"Don't mind them, ok? They gon' work on getting you out of somma them chains now."

Terrel chuckled to himself.

"I maybe went a little OTT with the superglue back there, but nothing we can't fix. You needa understand how important it is for me to keep you tied up and gagged. Imma do everything I need to, if it means you're locked up in ropes, chains, duct tape and whatever else we needa use to keep you bound and shut up for good."

"mmmph!" It was all Dillon could muster in response, given the severity of his gag.

"But we got use for you here. You can help us. See, there's a hierarchy of power and," Terrel tore the single strip of duct tape off of DIllon's dry, cracked lips, "right now, you on the bottom."

Dillon was overcome with desperation. Desperation to cry, to shout, to defend himself. But he couldn't do anything. He was helpless. Immobilized and silenced. His lips were sealed together, his mouth hardened shut by potent dental cement. It was hopeless.

"Lemme tell you straight up, you ain't never talkin again. The only way to remove that much shit would be to pull out every ona' them teeth. And man, your tongue would have to go to."

Dillon convulsed, almost involuntarily. He felt violated... a part of him was taken away. A part that he could never get back.

"MMMMM!! MMMPH MMMMMMMMMMMM!" He screamed himself hoarse.

"HEY YO, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!" Terrel raged, slapping Dillon hard in the face. He grabbed his jaw in his hands, forcing Dillon to look him in the eye "you gonna own this like a man now. This is your one shot at redemption, man. You do not wanna fuck wit it. You don't get to feel sorry for yo'self"

Dillon inhaled a labored, stuttering breath, heaving and shuddering all over. Silent tears began welling in his eyes.

"You gon' eat by IV drip. It got all the nutrients you need. You do good, you make the right choices, you eat. 'Else you don't."

The metal clasp around DIllon's neck fell open, causing him to fall forward, flat onto the hard ground. The chains binding his body and legs fell away at his sides, giving him a renewed sense of mobility. Even with his hands still bound at his waist and shackles on his feet, he somehow felt... free.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling--a wave of dizzy nausea swelling in his head. His tears stung his eyes and blurred his vision until it was all he could do to close them once more. The waking world rapidly descended into the periphery... everything seemed to fade away.

"Yo, Damon! get this nikka something to e a t , h e d o n ' t l o o k riiiiiggggghhtt


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -



Dillon's eyes shot open, blistering in pain at the bright, fluorescent lights beating down on him. As he adjusted to the brightness, his own image came into focus. He faced a wall-sized mirror, reflecting himself and his surroundings back at him.

He was sat in a bondage chair, with large, thick straps and buckles binding him at every joint. His forearms were outstretched over each armrest, and strapped tightly in place. A sudden, stinging pain came into clarity--a needle, sticking out of his wrist vein. Feeding time.

For reasons that escaped him, Dillon had been re-gagged... seemingly for aesthetic purposes only. A blue bandana had been tightly tied around his mouth, and several rolls of black gorilla tape around his head secured it in place. He knew they wanted to shut him up, but it was beyond overkill by this point.

A small Asian man--about 29 years old with spikey black hair--kept himself busy fussing over Dillon's feeding tubes, constantly adjusting and fidgeting with the IV. Every so often, he would tug on Dillon's straps, as if seeking reassurance that they would indeed hold.

"I'm sorry to gag you like that. I-I just have hard time with begging from prisoner. Easier for me if you can no talk."

Dillon was struck by the comment. Did he really not know the full extent of Dillon's gag? It seemed as i not everyone was as comfortable with kidnapping as Terrel would have him believe. Obviously steps were taken to mitigate Dillon's ability to curry favor with the weaker links in the operation.

"I'm med student, no worry. This is very safe."

Silence overtook the room, save for the occasional clinking of metal as the Asian man adjusted his tools nervously. He would sneak glances at Dillon here and there, then timidly divert his gaze.

He sighed deeply.

Unable to fight his carnal impulse any longer, the man dropped to the floor, landing at Dillon's Vans Sk8-Hi's. He gingerly tugged at one of the white laces, untangling the bow that tied it together. He paused, glancing up to note Dillon's confused expression. Fighting against his shame, the man slid the sneaker off Dillon's foot, and took a deep whiff of its insides.

For the first time, he seemed at peace. At ecstasy, even. He carefully peeled back the tongue of the shoe, and thrust it over Dillon's mouth and nose, forcing him to inhale the sweaty, rank odor it held within. It betrayed all the wet, bloody, tearful trauma that he had been put through since he was taken and then some. Here, having it clamped over his face--a humiliation he was powerless to fight against--Dillon felt completely overwhelmed.

He retched at the smell, forcing himself to quell whatever bile his body might try to produce. It wasn't just a response to the stink of his Vans sneaker, but a far greater force. A deep, physiological reaction to the continued torture, marginalization and senseless violence he had been subjected to in this evil place.

The man tentatively outstretched an arm, feeling around for Dillon's bulge--an ominous portend of his ultimate intentions. Dillon writhed in his bonds, thrusting forward and back against the chair and screaming the faint screams that his multiple gags would allow.

Suddenly, a door behind Dillon's chair was thrust open, and Terrel, Damon and AJ poured inside.

"Ah fuck, come on man. With this shit again?" Terrel shot the meek Asian a withering look. The man shrunk back in shame.

"You can have your feet stuff, and that's the line," Damon agreed, "this is like your sixth warning."

Terrel turned his attention to Dillon, and began unbuckling some of the straps. "Hey Shuen, you want to pick him out some sneakers, though?"

The Asian man perked up at this, and left the room.

"We know dude's a freak, but he's the only one who can do our medical shit. We let him have his fetish just to keep him in line, you know?" Terrel offered, acting as though Shuen was the only deviant in the house.

A moment later, Shuen returned, beaming. He had a pair of size 11 red Chuck Taylor high tops, seemingly brand new out of the box. He pressed one up against Dillon's face.

"I have been save these for someone special. I can no wait to smell them after you wear."

Shuen went to work carefully and meticulously lacing them up on Dillon's feet. When he was finished, he gently kissed both rubber toe caps, as if christening them for the new journey.

He held up Dillon's pair of musty, worn old Vans Sk8 Hi's. "I treasure these. Thank you." And with that, the man excused himself.

"We let him pick out most of the guy's shoes around here. Keeps him happy," Damian noted his own loosely-laced black leather Converse high tops, "you can tell he's got a thing for Chucks."

"Creepy ass nikka, man. But he knows his shit, that's all I'm sayin'" Terrel laughed.


- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -



Dillon spent the remainder of the night in the basement, locked in a small pyramid shaped cage with thick, metal bars. The cramped quarters forced him to keel over nearly in half--the handcuffs binding his hands behind his back and tethering them to one of the bars made any hope of comfort impossible. As a final measure of cruelty, the unnecessary tape gag was left on. Dillon cried until sunrise, plagued by the thought that this was just the first day of the rest of his life.

At dawn, DIllon heard footsteps creaking down the wooden steps leading into the basement. It was Terrel, alone, but armed with his all-too-familiar taser. He knelt at Dillon's side, and began unlocking him from the cage. He grabbed a shackle from the nearby wall, a chain connecting it into the stone foundations. He clasped it tightly around DIllon's ankle.

"Now stand up," Terrel ordered calmly. Dillon acquiesced, perhaps too eagerly. "SLOWLY! Get... up."

He gingerly rose to his feet. Terrel tossed him a black sweatshirt. Dillon pulled it on without being asked--a submissive nature was beginning to insidiously slip its way into his psyche. Terrel forced his hands to meet inside the middle pouch pocket, and Dillon could feel the familiar bite of cold steel handcuffs being snapped onto his wrists. His bondage was hidden in plain sight.

Then, from his pocket, Terrel produced a strange looking device. A flesh colored kidney bean shape, attached to a metal brace. As it was being affixed to his ear, Dillon realized it was a hearing aid of some kind.

"Now ain't no one gonna question why you can't talk right." Terrel muttered smugly, somehow aware of Dillon's confusion.

"Mmm... mmmphm" Terrel found continued ways to remind Dillon of his cruel fate. Each, another stab at hope.

"Oh, you shoula heard my first idea for you, though, man it was cold," Terrel grinned, "we was gonna take bone screws and bolt a metal plate over yo mouth. Matta fact, still might if you don't quit with all that fucking moaning."

"Now you remember, I said you can choose to help us? That's about'a start right now."



- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -


TO BE CONTINUED...

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tony2 » Sat Jun 20, 2015 10:41 am

nice part 2 ---
If you believe in yourself enough -
nobody else will figure out you're faking it.


ANTS viewtopic.php?f=85&t=22496
Talk is cheap viewtopic.php?f=78&t=21971

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby tiedlad » Sun Jul 26, 2015 3:17 pm

Looking forward to the next part!

Re: Permanent Bondage [M/M]

Postby Scottstud94 » Sun Aug 02, 2015 10:31 am

Yes