Fixing today's youth - the second day (M/m)

Postby Rocero648 » Thu Jan 19, 2012 9:54 am

*NOTE* This is the only "day" I currently have written for the story. In other words, this is my only part so far. I do plan on writing more in the future, though I feel like this story can work well as a stand-alone tale while also being left open to future exploration. I hope you enjoy!

Morning
(The Professor)

What I do may easily be misunderstood by the vocal minority of our society. However, I’m doing everybody a favor with this. Today’s youth is far too entitled, far too care-free for my tastes, or for anyone else willing to admit it. Humiliation is an important lesson which I teach.
Take Jerry, for instance. A student in my psychology class (I am a university professor). A real “alpha male”. A bit on the skinny side, though still muscular. A lady’s man who paid more attention to the busty blond beside him in class. A proud kid. Definitely a kid though.
Proud. Though not now. Certainly not now.
He really does look good now, rigged up in my basement. I can see everything from the comfort of my living-room on my TV, in clear 1080p. The camera cycles to a shot of his back-side. His hands are tied high above his rear. I put him in a strapado: a position in which he’s forced to stand bent over as if ready at any time to take it in the ass. His hands are tied with rope – for now. We’ve been using the handcuffs most of the time. I tend to prefer handcuffs, but rope is refreshing. He longer keeps his hands in balled up fists. He lets them relax, hang loose. It’s a bit better looking that way, at least I think so. Tied up hands look so much better when they rest in the awkward ways they do.
The TV cycles to a different camera, this time giving a side-front view of his face. I can see drool glistening brightly on the purple ball-gag tied into his mouth with electric pink straps. I’m actually quite proud of the gag. First of all, it’s a mouth-filler without being too enormous. It’s just a bit bigger than the average gag. And the straps are solid. One strap fits firmly around the back of his head. Another strap goes down and around his chin. The chin-strap, while not necessary to make the gag effective, certainly makes it joyfully more restrictive as he can barely move his mouth at all now. It forces the mouth to grasp the ball-gag. If anything is occupying Jerry’s mind right now, that gag has to be a main concern. It’s not the most comfortable thing to have stuck in your mouth. In fact, I use it because I know it’s impossible for the one who is gagged to keep his mind off of it. Just look at Jerry. The gag bobs ever so slightly in and out of his mouth. He’s trying to push it out with his tongue. Unfortunately he’ll never move it more than mere milimeters past his drool-drenched lips.
Ah yes, the drooling. My main reason for my preference for strict ball-gags. You can only wear one for a few minutes before you begin to drool against your will. You can try to suck back your spit, but it only makes it come back even harder. Jerry’s current position, with his upper body bent down and his head facing the ground, was drooling up a river. Over the microphone, you could hear him trying to slurp and suck his saliva back, but it just ran past his soaked lips, over the ball-gag, down his chin, and then down his neck and to his bare chest, or simply rolled off his chin into a nice puddle that was forming on the ground.
The only thing he regretted was how little of the boy’s face was showing. He had tied a thin cloth around his forehead, eyes, and nose. It was to protect his identity. Showing his face like this to the internet would certainly be humiliating, but also too far. Besides, this was humiliation enough. For now. Eventually he would go through more. Soon, I’ll make him loose those jeans. It’s the only thing left on his aside from underwear. Then I’ll let him dangle in his underwear a bit, before taking that off too.
My website is highly successful, though it appeals to a certain market which some people might find to be a bit out f their tastes. He can see through it though. It’s thin enough for him to witness everything around him quite clearly. He has a TV down there too showing exactly what I’m seeing, a big ol’ 52-inch on the wall in front of him, showing him his own situation. Next to the live broadcast – which now switched to a pulled-back view of the boy’s profile, bent over like a strange letter “r” – is a list of online users. It’s currently the morning, and we just ate breakfast. He barely ate – he wanted to be untied for the meal, but that wasn’t going to happen. He was lucky I didn’t have a ring gag to keep his mouth forced open as I crammed food down his throat. But there’s an idea. Maybe I should pick one of those up today.
My customers, or clients, rather, enjoy their bondage. But not just any particular kind of bondage. My kind of bondage. For most, if not all of my customers, this is the only website they visit to get their rocks off. My website features bound and gagged males forced to endure humiliation in nearly day-long web broadcasts, often for a week, give or take. I was hoping to keep this boy as long as possible, as I’ve only received praise for Jerry.
“Nice… I like the young fit ones” popped up in the chat box, submitted by a viewer by the username of Hornytoad69.
And then, from Bendoverboi44: “One of your better ones, professor. I can tell he’s really miserable. This will be fun”
Bendover44 always had surprisingly good punctuation in his posts.
It had to be straight boys, though. That’s what these guys were into. Straight, barely legal kids all tied up, gagged, and humiliated. Jerry was most certainly straight. That was something I made sure of yesterday. I get no sexual pleasure from this. It’s like a rush, like the kind Jerry gets from the coke which I let him snort during his visit here once every hour or so.
“Kidnapped straight boys” was the theme of my website called “The Professor’s Annex”. Good-looking, fit, confident, young-as-hell straight boys. His clients were mostly, if not all male. It was a bit of a weird fetish, he thought. Perhaps his clients were mainly gay, and In denial of their sexuality. He didn’t know, and didn’t really care either since they paid for their memberships. Money in his pocket. He paid it no more thought. In a lot of ways, Jerry is what straight men want to see in their female porn stars: barely old enough, and thin though athletic.
Maybe it’s time to give my captive a walk outside. He’s been tied up like that for an hour and a half or so.
I do sneak him a few beers though, now and again. And then there’s his other vice. It’s what’s keeping him here. He is, indeed, a willing participant to my amusement, though highly reluctant. He had no choice but to surrender himself to me. I had too much leverage over him. For one, I caught him snorting coke in the bathroom. Bad boy. But then he cheated on an exam. One of my exams. I have a good eye. I’ve caught tons of people doing it.
*

(Jerry)

Jerry’s mind was detached, from force of will. He was only vaguely aware of his situation, and was trying his best to remove himself. After all, he wasn’t intending on spending his reading week like this. He was supposed to go with his friends on a road trip, or at least visit some family. Not be… kept, all trussed up like a piece of meat in his professor’s basement with his shirt off.
The gag was the worst, worse than his aching arms lifted up over himself, worse than his sore wrists (though the rope which held it was quite soft.
The rubber ball strapped into his mouth was the worst though. It was in there tight, filling his mouth, impossible to remove from his mouth like this despite his best efforts, which mostly focused on working his jaw and trying to shove it out as hard as possible with his tongue. It was far too tight. The strap wasn’t getting any looser either. The thing was invincible. It was also painful and humiliating to wear. His jaw ached from the hours he had been forced to wear it since yesterday. He was starting to think he was going to be wearing in more often than not though. However, behove he want to bed, Jerry’s professor mercifully removed the ball strap and tied a cloth between his teeth instead. It, too, was tight, and it was a thick cloth, though significantly more tolerable than the other gag. He was glad he didn’t have to wear it all night.

*

Late morning
(The Professor)

“MMMMMMPH!”
I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing louder than a straight boy having his clothes removed by another man. Even when gagged, this kid could wake up the entire neighborhood. I have to cover his already gagged, drool-soaked mouth with one hand while I cut off his clothes with the other. I hope these aren’t good clothes. I told him to wear clothes he didn’t plan on wearing again, so it’s his fault.
I decided to tell him so.
“I hope you’re not wearing any good clothes here,” I say as I cut through his t-shirt.

*

Coke time. Coke time is the only time I let him be (mostly) untied and ungagged. I don’t like it, but having your hands bound behind your back and a big rubber ball strapped into your mouth certainly makes snorting coke a challenge, and a bit of a waste. He’s kneeling in front of the coffee table on his knees. Thick white lines have been crushed in front of him.
As I do him the generosity of temporarily removing his ball-gag, a small waterfall of drool predictably comes pouring out on his chest and the floor. Yup, he’s been wearing that for a while. It wasn’t going to change anytime soon either. I fucking love ball-gags. They make the wearer lose total control.

After he finishes snorting his candy, I strap the drool-soaked gag back into the boy’s mouth. No real need to wash it as it might as well have never left his mouth. Of course, I’m sure he thinks differently. He’s probably wishing for a softer gag as well. Tough. That’s only for naps and when I go out. I tighten it until he makes an audible “mmph”, a good sign that the gag was almost tight enough. I pulled it a bit longer, and he whined a bit more, but what’s he going to do? I already cuffed his hands back behind his back. He’s flexible to reach up to his mouth and pull it out, but damn, I’m tugging on the strap around his pressed cheeks, and it doesn’t even feel like he could move this thing with his tongue. Good.
**
Noon
(Jerry)

He leads me into his yard, the infernal rubber ball still strapped into my mouth, this time tighter than ever. It hurts a little. My face is aching from this. He leads me out almost completely naked except for my boxers. I’m barefoot. What if I step in something? I keep my eyes on the ground to keep an eye out.
Jesus Christ, his yard is enormous. It’s bigger than the yard the richest kid in my school had. There’s a swimming pool, a path leading down to an open area with posts everywhere, half of them in the sun, half of them in the shade.
There are also benches everywhere. He takes me over to one and sits me down. He ties the leash to a small hook in the side of the bench. There are small hooks everywhere. He really is a freak: there are things for tying people down everywhere.
The entire yard is surrounded by incredibly tall hedges. No neighbors could see over those, Though maybe if I yelled loud enough (like I did earlier when having almost all of my clothes ripped off) someone would hear me. But I can’t yell anything clearly. “Mmph” doesn’t sound like a call for help. Speaking of which, I despise this gag. It’s humiliating. I can’t believe I’m being filmed for men who enjoy watching me tied up and drooling uncontrollably. In fucking high definition. Yeah, you can really see the saliva dribbling down my chin. Awesome. Not to mention my jaw muscles were aching like a bitch. Of course, I think this is just the professor’s attention.
The professor came back. He was holding a duffel back which I knew wasn’t full of gym clothes. Out from his pocket he took the keys belonging to my handcuffs. He unlocked one, and told me to put them in front of me. I was tempted to hit the guy. I could take this little troll so easily, and be done with this.
But rationality trumped violence. I need the credit. I can’t flunk out of school. My parents would murder me, for one, and second, what would I do with my life? So I comply by holding my hands out in front so that he cuffs them again. He then takes a length of rope and binds my wrists right under the handcuffs. He pulls it tight till my wrists are tied tight and locked. He then reaches around my head to loosen the gag and pulls it out of my mouth. He then lets it dangle around my neck like a twisted, ugly necklace. Something tells me I’ll be wearing it again before too long.
He reaches back into his duffel bag and pulls out a JR. It’s my favourite beer. “Beer?” he offers.
Oh, hell, why not. Might as well be fucked up as possible right now. The coke was certainly doing its trick. If I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself untied and ungagged, I could actually feel pretty good. But it’s hard when this fat bastard keeps pushing you around.
**

(The Professor)

He nods. Good, he’s learning. Never speak without a gag unless asked a question which requires more than a simple “yes” or “no”. His voice isn’t something I like to hear. Unless it’s gagged. Then his cries and attempts at speech are beautiful. I love hearing him go “mmph” into my good gag. It’s just… delicious to hear. So helpless. Because of me. I have the control.
He manages to twist off the top awkwardly. A lot of things are harder to do when both your hands are tied together as quickly as oossible. I should’ve been more carefuly when I untied him. He could’ve whalloped me there. He had a look in his eye. I think this afternoon’s activity session will be a lesson to make up for that. After all, most votes went towards the tightrope walk. He was looking forward to that. The tightrope walk could be especially punishing for boys if done right.
He drank the beer awkwardly, cradled between his palms.
“Cigarette?” He nods. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be smoking?”
He almost said something to that, but then thought better of it. Oh well, let the kid smoke. I tried my first cigarette back when I was twelve.
He has to put the beer down to pick up the cigarette. I like watching him fumble around with his bound hands. Tied up hands are another thing I find.., delicious. They’re so helpless. Easy tasks are rendered into major obstacles. He can’t even light a cigarette without knowing I control him as he tries to move his hands apart. He can’t. He brings both hands up to place the cigarette in his mouth. His palms are getting quite sweaty from being forced together for so long. I don’t envy his situation, not even a little bit. He’s a kid, but also an alpha male with his pride. Not anymore. Nothing to be proud of when you’re tied up in your underwear in your professor’s basement, being filmed for a live camshow. The best damn camshow you can get! That is, if you like me, and enjoy watching alphas squirm.
I once had a kid I could tell liked it. I let him go right away. If my captive doesn’t feel like an actual captive, if he isn’t truly afraid, there’s no point for me.
He lights his lighter to his cigarette, with both hands, and lights the end. He then puts the lighter down so he can hold the cigarette and his beer at the same time. He tried to twist his wrists out so that he could hold both things further apart, but that wasn’t happening. Not with the way I tie people up. His hands will stay palm-to-palm. Just the way I like it with hands tied in front. Unless you tie them above the head, at which point palms facing out is the best way to go. It’s an aesthetics thing. Some of you should understand while others will think I’m a bit obsessive.
Maybe I am obsessive. But this has not only been an enjoyable hobby for me, but a profitable one through my website.
I feel like looking the boy in the eye. I remove his “blindfold” which he can see through, though I can’t. He had no idea there were cameras everywhere out here.
The truth is, I enjoy the company. This kind of company. I don’t know what social outlet allows me to feel the way I do right now: empowered, like I’m having a coke rush of my very own. I don’t need friends. I need… bitches. Like this guy. Except, he has to be defiant and not wanting his predicament.
I could see it in his eyes. He was trying to get lost in the high, trying to ignore the ropes , cuffs, and gag dangling just under his throat. He’d be wearing that again really soon, much to what I assume would be his chagrin. He was trying to enjoy the beer, drinking it awful fast. He smoked that cigarette quickly too.
He also tilted his head back occasionally to try and snort whatever cocaine could be left in his nose.
The stuff I gave him is pure. He should be feeling good for longer than most kinds of cocaine. He also ate a bit of MDMA, which might either make him feel better or worse depending on his past experiences and state of mind. I hoped it would render him less lucid, so he’d be more suggestible, but without totally giving in, or, God forbid, enjoying himself.
I feel like engaging him in conversation could only make things worse for him, therefore I do so.
“So, you having fun yet?” I ask, knowing full wellthis is probably the least fun moment of his entire life. It was only going to get worse. He shakes his head. “Okay, you can talk now,” I say. “Gag order is temporarily lifted while we smoke a couple darts and drink a couple beers. And maybe enjoy a joint. You smoke weed?”
He nodded. “I told you to speak.” “Yes,” he says, though with no emotion. He’s really detaching himself from the situation, trying to ride the high and ignore me. I must be a major buzzkill. I know I am.
“So, any thoughts on your mind?”
He looked up nervously, truly contemplating if he wanted to say anything at all. Then he said something which made me cry with glee on the inside. “This…ball… thing..” “It’s called a gag, boy. A ball-gag. Ball for obvious reasons which I’m sure you’re aware of, and “gag” because that’s what you call any device to keep someone shut up.”
“I know, but I really hate this thing. It’s uncomfortable, makes my jaw ache, and… well… it makes me…”
“Drool all over yourself?”
“Yeah…” his face was bright-red. He took another puff of his cigarette, and then shifted it around to take a drink from his beer bottle. He was almost finished. I passed him one more, closed of course, so I could watch him twist if off with his bound hands.
“Well, that’s the point, you goof! It’s not supposed to be pleasant! It does an awesome job of keeping you quiet while making you look stupid!”
He sighed and looked away. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered. “Fucked up?” I ask. “You don’t think it was fucked up the amount of times you made a fool out of me?!” I was starting to lose control of myself. I had to keep up my composure. I lit up a big spliff. OG kush, the real stuff. Though I’ve had better strains, mostly medical.
“Look, relax. This is a worthwile experiment.”
“You’re just keeping me like a prisoner, filming me for your perverted website members who are into sick shit like this.”
“Hey, you say that like you’re being kept here against your will. Just say the word: I’ll untie you and let you be on your way. You could get back home today and try your best to forget this ever happened. Though all this free coke I was going to give you as a going-away present will go to waste, or someone else more willing. What exactly are you going to tell your parents, too? You certainly haven’t earned enough extra credit to pass my course, let alone your semester yet. Is that what you want?” I remove a large hunting knife from my backpack, motioning to gay pink rope keeping his wrists tied tight.
His blue eyes were once confident, but now they look so… deliciously helpless. The way he looks around for answers which aren’t there at all. They were also a bit screwed up from the drugs. I hold the joint out to him. Before he puts his nearly finished cigarette and almost empty beer bottle, he told Jerry to just put his lips on it. He did.
“Besides, that isn’t just any ball-gag. That thing is quality! You can’t find it in some cheap stag shop. I ordered this baby online, customized to my exact needs. That strap fits any size, and doesn’t stretch, meaning once it’s in there tight enough, it’s never getting taken out by whoewver’s wearing it, that is if they’re tied up of course. I’ve been thinking about using a padlock, but that would be a pain in the ass to unlock every single time, and it works just fine. The ball is a bit bigger than the average ball-gag, which is why it fits your mouth. And, compared to most ball-gags, it’s actually quite comfortable. Though it’s also designed for maximum drooling. Sorry, kid, but you’re going to be doing a lot of that this week, and that’s a fact.”
“Why are you doing this?” he asked me. “I mean… this is more than just an “experiment”. This is also some creep fetish web show. This must be something you do quite often.”
“Indeed. But I’ve had trouble finding a decent participant It needs to be consensual, obviously. I don’t want to do anything illegal. But the participant also needs to be… well, not completely willing. Like you. I can tell this isn’t going to be the best week of your life.”
“I’m going to find an amnesia drug once this is all over,” he says. Ha! He wishes such a thing could be bought over the counter.
“Seriously, don’t you have any other gags? Like tape? You could just tape my mouth shut, I wouldn’t mind. You don’t even have to gag me, I’ll stay totally quiet all the time” he asks. This again! Then again, it makes it all the more sweet knowing he minds it so much. No, I won’t be changing that gag anytime soon. He’ll get used to it. Maybe. Though I hope not.
“Well. I mostly have other ball-gags. One regular sized one, though I’m afraid the strap will dig into the corners of your mouth, and you’ll have marks there for a very long time. I have another one which is far larger than the one you’re currently wearing. I really don’t think you want that one, because if you think the aches and drooling are bad now, wait until I make you wear that thing.”
“Please don’t.”
“Be a good boy then, don’t do anything stupid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine. And I have one gag which will be if you do something reallyhorrible. I’ll give you a hint: if you don’t like balls in your mouth, you really won’t like this thing.”
“Now, let me ask you something,” I say. “Why’d you cheat?”
“I swear,” he says, “I didn’t-“ “If you say you didn’t cheat, I swear to God I’ll bust out my biggest, worst, most punishing gag right now. It’ll make you drool like a waterfall, and I’ll tie you up with your ass hanging up right in front of the camera.”
“You mean a bit like this morning?”
“You want to see? I’ll be happy to show you, The main difference is that you still had pants on, and you weren’t wearing a gag which would make the biggest masochists scream after a while.”
“You’re a crazy sadist.”
“I’m only trying to show you the way, boy. You were too proud. Now you’re learning humiliation. Now finish your second beer already.”
He drank and smoked in silence until we were finished. I then re-gagged him, pulling the strap just a bit tighter than last time. He lets out an “mmph” from the ridiculously tight gag. Can’t blame him there at all. It was time for me to get some work out of the way, and for Jerry to enjoy the fresh air.

**
(Early afternoon)
(Jerry)

He tied me up to one of the posts out in the hot baking sun while he sat nearby in the shade, grading his papers, and occasionally looking up to give me a weird look, like a twisted satisfaction. My hands are tied high above my head. My legs are also tied at the ankles as well as just above the knees. I’m cooled by the saliva dripping down my chin, down to my chest, and sometimes onto my feetow. In a weird way, the gag doesn’t feel too bad anymore. If anything, it felt a bit odd having it out. Great. I haven’t even been wearing this thing for more than a day and I’m already getting more comfortable. Well, no, not really. This thing sucks, and this time he strapped it in even tighter. I’m starting to think my face won’t ever be the same again after this. Though my face is honestly not my greatest worry.
I also can’t help but feel like I’m being filmed, though I have no real reason to feel that way.
“Mmph!” I can only twitch and moan through my gag at the mosquitos biting me. “Mmmvrr fmmckrr! Prmfmssmr! Fmmkng msqumtms kmmp bmmtm mmph!”
The coke high is wearing off, and giving way to fiendish irritability. And there’s nothing I can do but stand here and take it. Fuck, this is hell.
**

(The Professor)

I interpreted the boy’s gag-talk as a complaint about mosquitos. I’m quite well versed in gagtalk, actually. I’d probably teach it as a course if I could. Maybe I could suggest it somehow. I can only imagine a classroom of students forced to wear ball-gags the entire class. Removal of a gag at any time would result in an automatic fail. Unless they chose to pursue “extra credit”.
He looked… delicious, right now. And I hadn’t even gotten started on today. I ignore his pleads and continue to grade papers, watching him squirm and “mmph” at every little sting he got. I can’t leave him there for too long though, or else he’s going to look like quite a mess later.
Palms facing out looks much better with an above-the-head tie. It makes him look more…exposed. Palms facing in only ever looks good when hands are tied directly in front. And I’m not a fan of that. It doesn’t leave them nearly as helpless as hands behind the back, my personal favourite. Palms facing out and tied tightly so they can’t play with the ropes. It sucks when they make fists though. That’s not appealing at all.
**
Late afternoon
(Jerry)
He unhooked me from the pole. He tied and cuffed (talk about unnecessary, but whatever floats his boat) behind my back again, but not before binding my arms to my sides so that I could not move them up. Part of me wondered if it was because he once saw my suppressed urge to give up with this bullshit and knock his lights out. He’s scared of me.
“Stay right there,” he said. He went over to his black duffel back of bondage wonders, and from it he took a very long length of white rope. It hat rather large knots tied within even spaces of each other. He tied one end to a hook next to the post I was standing at. The hook must’ve gone up to the small of my back. “Mmph! Hmmph, wamph immph!” I uttered as he passed the rope through my bound legs, above the ropes binding my knees. He then walked over to an adjacent post, and tied it up to what seemed like a slightly higher hook. The rope inclined upward from where I stood, and I was trapped on it. He came back over to me and moved the rope up one more notch on my side so that “mmph! “ I was receiving an effective wedgie.
A phone was ringing. My phone. The professor removed it from his back pocket. “Hemmph! Lmmph mph anmphr dmmt! Ungamph mmf!” But instead of complying to my demands, he shoved his hand over my mouth like he did this morning when cutting my clothes off.
“Shut up, “ he said before answering the phone. “Hello? Oh, Jerry? Oh, my, I must have picked up by accident. Is he here? Well, actually, he’ll have to call you right back. He’s a bit tied up round now. Yeah, he’s really bound to succeed. Well, you have a hardworking son right here. I’m willing to do anything I can for him. Anyway, he literally can’t talk right now. I’ll get him to call you back later? Okay. Sure. No problem. You have a great day too!” He hung up. “Aww. It was your mommy.” He removed his hand from my mouth (thankfully, as I never enjoy his fat gross hand anywhere near my face. “She was worried about you. Don’t worry, I let her know you and I are working very closely together, and that you’re doing an excellent job. Which you are. My website reaching nearly record-breaking hits! Oh, which reminds me…”
He walked back over to the duffel back. He retrieved a plan red bandana and came back over. He tied the large bandana over my eyes and my forehead.
The rope was pulling uncomfortable up my ass. Thankfully, I wasn’t position on one of the knots, or else this would be too personal.
He cut my feet free, though not my thighs. “Start walking,” he said.
“Mmmph?! Emmscusmmph mmph?”
“Start walking. If you can complete five laps in five minutes or less, I’ll leave you ungagged for the rest of the night and only keep your hands cuffed in front. And we’ll do whatever you want tonight.”
Good God. I can barely walk at all with my legs still tied up, and the rope is far too high. It slides across my ass-crack deeply. Oh, shit, a knot. How the fuck? I can’t even tip-toe properly like this. The rope still rides right up my ass, no matter how much I try to lift myself above it. It’s too high.
I’m starting to feel funny though. Kind of good. But… I didn’t do any coke recently. That high is long gone, and now I’m trapped in reality. Except for this new… high? It doesn’t feel like coke. Feels more like E… did… did he drug me with E?
**

(The Professor)

“MMMMPH!” What a delightful sound. Those knots really dig in there. It takes him about two minutes to make it all the way to one side. I gave him an impossible task. There’s no way an ass virgin could make it across these ropes quickly at all. His asshole must feel wrecked already. I’m still trying to decide whether or not to make him finish his laps or let him finish when his time is up. This is a rather harsh punishment, and perhaps five laps, back and forth, is a bit too cruel. His face is read, he keeps moaning to the point that drool is just pouring out of his mouth onto the ground.
Though suddenly he looks a bit different. His breathing pattern has changed, and he seems to be taking it in stride. Could this be the mdma finally kicking in? It could only get interestingfrom here.

**
(Jerry)

Suddenly, the cuffs and ropes around my wrists felt much softer. The gag-ball, or whatever he called it, doesn’t feel so bad in my mouth anymore. It doesn’t feel great, but it doesn’t feel as restrictive anymore. Just a part of who I am… wait, what? This isn’t who I am. I must be on something.
The rope between my legs, while still riding up my asshole, feels tolerable. It feels far from good, but I can take it. Another knot comes up. “Hmmph! Fmmknmm bmmtchmm!” Yes, that still hurts a lot. But less. I can ignore the pain a little bit. I make it back down to the other end of the rope. How much time has passed? Hopefully this is one of those situations where it feels like an eternity when in actuality very little time has passed.
**
(The Professor)

“Congratulations!” I yell at him. “You made it!” His body relaxes. He looks relieved. He would probably have plopped down on the ground that very moment were there not a rope directly under him which threatened to split his asshole completely in half.
“Only took ya fifteen minutes too!”
“Mmph?!”
Yup, I let him walk back and forth for fifteen minutes trying to “walk the line”. It was quite entertaining, watching him moan at every single knot. At one point I worried the neighbors might here, but if anything his gagged moans sound like nothing more than a work-out or heavy working grunts. It’s hard to tell between those and gagged cries at a distance. Of course, up-close, I have the pleasure of hearing his muffled voice straining against the gag tied tightly into his mouth.
Yes, the tightness was necessary. Don’t want him to feel like he can push this thing out. Maybe a padlock was a good idea. Like the handcuffs, it ensured he couldn’t go too far without keys to free him. The keys to those handcuffs were his leash, in a matter of speaking. And with a padlock on the gag, he’d have that extra security. But what if an emergency happened? What if the boy threw up into his gag and began to choke? Normally, removing the gag was a simple task, but a padlock could be fatal in that situaiion. He didn’t like Jerry, but he didn’t want a death on his hands. Even if he got away with it, he’d never be able to enjoy his hobby again.
I unhook the knotted white rope and put it away, back in my duffel bag, which I bring back to my toolshed.
**
Evening
(Jerry)
I was tightly bound to a small wooden chair in his living-room, my blindfold replaced with the see-through material which allowed me to see while also coneiling my identity. From my nose up, anyway. But I think my eyes and hair are my most apparent facial features, so I’m glad they’re covered.
The professor lay sprawled out on a comfortable couch. Certainly more comfortable than the wooden chair I was tied (and handcuffed, and gag-balled).
“I’m into mainstream bondage,” he said. “As mainstream as bondage can be. It’s actually headed that way though. Some people say you’re a freak if you don’t own a pair of handcuffs in your home.”
Yeah, but what about keeping teenage boys handcuffed in your house? Is that becoming more mainsream? What abut keeping them constantly gagged with the most uncomfotrtable thing in the world? What about making them drool for your own amusement, or keeping them on camera for some sick live webcam sight? What about forcing them to walk across a rope which digs so far up their asses they can feel it in their lungs? What about watching your past victims on DVD like they were re-runs of your favourite TV shows?
That’s what we were doing right now. I refused to look at the screen. I knew what I’d see: other guys, varying in degress of nakedness, tied up like me, cuffed with the same handcuffs, gagged with the same ball-gag.
“You should really watch this. This might be you in a couple days!”
But I didn’t want to look. The moans coming from the captive on TV were unbearable. He sounded like he was crying hysterically.
--
Night
(Jerry)

After feeding my captive, I brought him back to the basement where he’d be sleeping for the night, on the bare mattress I left for him. He wouldn’t be cold. If anything, he’d be too hot with the way I cranked the heating, leaving him to sweat. I untied his hands, but left them cuffed behind his back. I used a pair of leg irons on his feet. They would allow him to walk around whenever he had to get up to use the bathroom, which was an adjacent room over. The ball-gag came out, and I slapped some tape over his mouth. It was something he could easily remove, but he knew better.

It’s never good to leave a gagged person completely unnattended. Throughout the day, I’ve kept an eye on him, but I feel uncomfortable at the idea of leaving the ball-gag in overnight while I’m asleep, in case he threw up or something. A flimsy piece of duct tape was mostly for show than for anyhting else.

He has a couple viewers keeping him company anyway, to watch him while he sleeps. Or tries to sleep. Or, left in nothing but his white boxer-briefs, squirms and struggles against his bindings in a vain attempt to escape.

I wish him pleasant dreams, and goodnight. He’d better get some rest before tomorrow. If today was bad for him - and I could tell it was - tomorrow was going to be a whole new ball-game. It would make him wish today never ended.

Re: Fixing today's youth - the second day (M/m)

Postby tiedup101 » Sat Jan 21, 2012 12:18 pm

This is an amazing story. I really appreciate the detail put into it. Thank you very very much. I urge you to continue with all my heart! What a great story and well written! More, PLEASE!
Hey! I'm John! I love bondage! Send me a PM or send me a message at John_9734@yahoo.com! Open to anybody, but more into m/m bondage!

Re: Fixing today's youth - the second day (M/m)

Postby sarwrductan » Sun Jan 22, 2012 5:29 pm

Thank you. It was a well written story. I visualized scenes rather clearly,
Those who walk forward always looking back, don't see that which makes them stumble