by Ty Marton
With such a flood of conflicting emotions, Jeff felt lost in his own head. The only thing he could comfortably grab onto was the arousal. So he focused on the pleasure, hoping that somehow, it would be the key to getting through this. And sure enough, the screen soon changed, displaying three simple words.
I WANT THIS.
Jeff felt a strange sense of surrender as he shouted the words into the mic, but he did so without any hesitation. Something was different now. Before, he had simply been playing along, trying not to get shocked. But now, there was something else motivating him, something he couldn’t quite understand yet…
The words turned green and disappeared. The pulsing within Jeff’s ass intensified, the pulses coming quicker and sharper. He trembled, his lower body quivering against the sturdy leather straps, and gave a long, whining moan. He didn’t want it to feel good…
But it did feel good.
And when the screen told him to say that he wanted this, he didn’t want to mean it.
But he had meant it.
That was it, he realized. He hadn’t believed the words as he’d said them before, but now… he did. At a base, primal level, he wanted “this,” whatever “this” was.
MORE, the screen read.
“More,” Jeff gasped in response, his voice shaking with submission, a strangely satisfying sense of weakness washing over him. The words flickered light green – not loud enough, not green enough. They changed to red. The dildo returned to its former, torturous voltage, leaving Jeff howling in pain. The word came on the screen once more, the electricity still shredding its way through Jeff’s lower body. The pain wouldn’t stop until he got it right, he realized.
“More!” he shouted out, “More, more!”
The word turned green, but the electricity didn’t diminish. Instead, it intensified, flowing through the testicular electrodes now as well. Jeff let out a long, frustrated grunt, cringing and lowering his chin into his chest as he attempted to weather the agony.
He’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for. It wasn’t a punishment anymore. It just was.
After several seconds of this, the word returned to the screen: MORE. Jeff let out a muffled sob of pained despair upon seeing it. For all he knew, the electricity was only running at half strength. For all he knew, the current level of pain he was experiencing was only the tip of the iceberg… But it didn’t matter. There was no way to go but forward. After a brief period of hesitation, Jeff closed his eyes and cried out, “…More!”
The dildo began to pulse again in response, varying this time from bearable to excruciating and back, the spiked studs jutting out with each pulse, stabbing at his tender flesh and testing every limit of his pain tolerance. He bared his teeth, growling, seething, and shaking, snorting deep breaths through his nose, reduced back to that near-animalistic level of pained fury. The difference now was that there was pleasure mixed in with the pain. His eyes fell downwards to his lap, where his erect cock was still jutting upwards, its veins bulging with sheer testosterone. The electricity was practically boiling his prostate by this point, sending a white-hot heat radiating through his shaft to gather and build at the ultra-sensitive tip of his cock.
CUM, the screen suddenly read. Jeff snarled and spit at the screen, bursting with pure hatred. This wasn’t about simply saying what he was told anymore. This was about embracing his predicament and putting obedience above all other instincts. This was about giving up. This was about letting them win. And the worst part was that Jeff knew he didn’t have a choice. Even if he felt he had the strength to somehow defy his captors, which he wasn’t even sure was true any longer, he knew that defiance simply wasn’t an option. He was being tortured – and yet here he was, his cock erect, his balls boiling uncontrollably with cum. His body was practically begging his mind to let go, to stop fighting it, to embrace the intoxicating rush of concentrated pain and pleasure already holding him in its grasp. After all, embracing the pain was the only way to make it stop.
And so, throwing his head back and making a noise that was part moan, part scream, and part growl, Jeff Kenton did as he was told and started to cum, ribbon after ribbon of the milky fluid shooting out over his abs, surging out of him in perfect sync with the pulsating electricity surging into him. He felt defeated. He felt ashamed. He felt trapped.
He felt… broken.
Satisfied, the text on the screen turned green, lingering instead of fading away, practically rubbing his face in the hard truth of the situation. They had won. They always would.
The electricity faded to a stop, leaving Jeff slumped against his restraints, mind and body equally spent. He felt dizzy and nauseous, like he might pass out at any moment. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the occasional sob of despair that overcame him. A teardrop ran down his face, mirroring a teardrop of cum that slowly trickled down his cock, pooling at the base of his shaft. Jeff couldn’t help but watch it as it fell, fixated, the hardest truth of all starting to dawn on him: this wasn’t over.
This wasn’t even the beginning yet.
After a minute or so, he felt tension beneath his legs, something pulling on the dildo, removing it from his ass. He squirmed in his seat, realizing that someone was kneeling behind him… how long had they been there? Jeff had no idea. Nothing felt real anymore.
The dildo came out, Jeff grunting and gasping as his gaping ass struggled to readjust to its original dimensions. Jeff heard the faint sound of the metallic dildo being set aside on the concrete floor, then saw a dark figure step slowly in front of him, cast in a near total silhouette from the green glow of TV.
“You did well,” Mason said softly. “Better than most.”
Jeff’s hotheaded instincts were telling him to spit in Mason’s face, to laugh and tell the man to go fuck himself, that Jeff Kenton was nobody’s slave. But they spoke to him in a voice that was soft, subdued, and distant. Jeff felt detached from them, like they didn’t belong to him anymore. He remembered how he had felt as he was cumming… he had felt defeated…
“…Thank you… Sir…” he said quietly, eyes trained down at the floor. He knew that all he could do now was accept the fact that his instincts for defiance wouldn’t help him now. Mason smiled, reaching down to trace his fingertip through the mess of cum splattered across his prisoner’s stomach.
“Suck,” Mason said, holding his dripping finger up in front of Jeff’s face. Jeff didn’t even look at it, instead choosing to stare back up at the barely visible contours of Mason’s eyes. Without a word, without blinking, he opened his mouth, extended his tongue, and permitted Mason to probe the digit inside before closing his lips around the base of the man’s knuckle. He sucked, forcing the cum down his throat with a series of steady swallows. Mason retracted his finger from Jeff’s mouth, then traced the back of his hand slowly down the slave’s cheek.
“I had much more planned for you tonight,” Mason said, breaking the weighty silence. “More pain. More torment. You were going to spend the night in this chair if that’s what it took. But I’m wondering now if all of that is really necessary. You may already be ready for the next level…”
Jeff thought before he spoke. “Whatever you wish, sir,” he said, still staring up at Mason with a steely gaze. Mason smiled again, eyeing his captive over, appraising him with a strange sense of eagerness. I’m his new toy… Jeff realized, feeling a sudden wave of nausea and immediately forcing himself to ignore it.
Sure enough, Mason wanted to play. Wordlessly, he unzipped his pants, lowering them, his long, ample cock springing free as they fell. He stepped forward, resting his knees beside Jeff’s legs on the chair, positioning himself directly in front of Jeff’s face. Only a few inches separated the tip of his cock from Jeff’s lips. “Open your mouth,” Mason commanded. Jeff took a breath, then obeyed, his mouth coming open, his mind resolving itself with one basic directive: get through this.
“You want to suck your master, don’t you, slave?”
“Uh-huh,” Jeff said in
a breathy mumble, leaving his mouth open and his tongue extended, desperate to convince this man that he was as broken as he clearly hoped. Mason smirked for a moment, biting his lip as he read the slave.
“I don’t believe you,” he said, before suddenly releasing a high-pressure torrent of piss directly into Jeff’s waiting mouth. Jeff gasped and recoiled, jerking his head to the side, trying in vain to avoid the foul stream. But Mason simply followed him, aiming the piss at Jeff’s mouth no matter where he maneuvered. Jeff had nowhere to hide.
“Open your mouth and drink like the slave you are,” Mason growled, finally grabbing a fistful of Jeff’s hair and jerking his head back front and center, the piss splashing directly against his closed mouth and dribbling down over his neck and torso. “Drink. It.”
Even though Jeff’s new submissive instincts were desperate to obey, it was a command he simply couldn’t bring himself to follow. Drinking piss? Every atom in his body felt hard-wired to resist such something so disgusting. And so Mason was forced to watch with contempt in his stare as his slave stubbornly refused to open his mouth and drink from his master. His every suspicion was confirmed. There was still work to do. This slave still needed to be broken down.
The stream of piss came to a stop, and Mason pulled back, calmly pulling his pants pack on. He took a sad breath, sighing like a parent unhappy with their child. “You have one job,” he said plainly, turning to face the drenched, miserable slave once more, “and this job is to embrace your fate and, in doing so, earn my trust. Until you can do this, the punishments will be severe. They will be nonstop.”
He knelt down, looking Jeff in the eye. “And they will continue immediately.”
~*~
CLICK.
His eyes were closed, a futile attempt to focus his thoughts on something else, anything besides his current predicament. But with the sound of that single click, there was no escaping it. Jeff was trapped.
“I remember building these stocks myself,” Mason muttered, half talking to himself. He stepped back to admire the sight of his naked captive bent over, his neck and wrists pinned between the two heavy slabs of wood, his ankles chained to the device’s base. Mason had led a bound Jeff about fifty meters into the desert. Now, locked into this archaic apparatus, he could only just barely make out the distant glow of the motel’s neon orange sign somewhere beyond the hills that obstructed his view of the horizon and, perhaps more importantly, obstructed the horizon’s view of him.
A few feet away, Dwayne began pouring a can of kerosene over a sizable stack of wood and dry brush. After emptying it, he struck a match and dropped it, immediately igniting the bonfire, a devilish red glow flickering to life across his face.
“The fire will give you at least a few hours of warmth, and should keep the animals away,” Mason said, his voice carrying a sinister hint of enjoyment. “But aside from that… you’re on your own for tonight. Perhaps in the morning, you’ll be a little more grateful to be a part of our motel.”
Dwayne shook his head and snickered quietly to himself as he took his place behind Mason. He stared at Jeff, a faint smile across his face, then winked. Jeff scowled in response, but said nothing.
“Now drink this,” Mason ordered, waving a canteen with a straw sticking out of it in front of Jeff’s face. Jeff eyed it suspiciously, which brought an amused scoff out of Mason. “Or don’t,” he said, “but it’s the only water I’ll offer you until the morning. I suspect you’ll be grateful for it within a few hours.”
Jeff sighed, knowing that Mason was right, and took the straw into his mouth, quickly gulping the water down. It didn’t matter what was or wasn’t in it – it could be poison for all Jeff knew, but still, he had no choice but to take his chances and drink it. Mason was in control now, and Jeff was going to have to play by his rules whether he wanted to or not.
He finished the last of it, and realized just how thirsty he had been. A few stray drops dripped down from his bottom lip – he quickly lapped them up with a quick dart of his tongue.
“…Thank you… Sir…” he said, head bowed, eyes to the ground.
Mason arched an eyebrow. “No words of defiance?” he asked, clocking the slave’s reluctant reverence. “No ‘fuck you?’ I was beginning to find your fighting spirit almost charming.” Jeff said nothing, remembering how Danny’s silence had so clearly gotten under this man’s skin. Mason had already gotten a “thank you” out of him – that was all Jeff was prepared to offer, for now.
After a few moments’ worth of evaluation, Mason nodded to himself, then knelt down to Jeff’s level, peering straight into his eyes from only a few feet away. “I will break you, Jeff,” he said softly. The sound of Jeff’s name formed from Mason’s lips gave the miserable captive a noticeable shiver, which only seemed to fuel the fire in Mason’s eyes. “It’s inevitable,” he went on. “One way or another, you will become exactly what I want you to be. You will submit in every way imaginable. You will not have a choice.”
Jeff glared at him, silently begging to differ. Mason smiled in response, reading the young man’s face perfectly.
“You’ll learn not to fight it,” he said. “And after that, there will be no limit to what you will learn.”
And with that, Mason stood and walked off, followed closely by Dwayne, the two of them leaving Jeff alone beneath the moonlight to squirm fruitlessly against the sturdy wood amidst a chorus of crickets. He had lost any kind of perception of time. It felt like ages since he had arrived at this damned motel, and like sunrise should be just around the corner, but for all he knew, it wasn’t even midnight yet. The only truth he could hold onto was that he was stuck, forced to wait out the remainder of the night, however long that might be. And as uncomfortable as the stocks were, straining his body into an awkward and even painful position, he knew that rest wasn’t going to come easy, no matter how utterly exhausted he felt.
Then, of course, there was the cold to deal with. There was already a distinct desert chill in the air, and Jeff knew he’d be in serious trouble once the fire died down. Hikers were getting stranded all of the time out in the canyon country, and plenty of them had come down with hypothermia on nights like this one – and they certainly hadn’t been naked, with a face full of lukewarm piss to boot.
Still, Jeff refused to allow himself to panic. The fire, burning about six or seven feet to his side, was indeed casting a faint tickle of heat across his body, enough to keep him from shivering, at least for the time being. If he could just stay calm, he would be all right… wouldn’t he?
He could only do his best to shake off the pesky, nagging thought of how miserable this night was going to be, as well as the subconscious fear in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t even survive it. Fear wasn’t an emotion he could afford right now. He knew he needed to focus on something else… anything else. He began thinking of his friends and family. Would any of them even notice that he was missing? Certainly not his father, who was still serving the back half of a twenty year sentence for vehicular manslaughter, nor his mother, whom he hadn’t even spoken to in almost two years. As for his friends, well, Jeff was simply too much of a loner for his own good, and didn’t know many people whom he thought of as good friends. The friends he did have, he realized, were almost all fellow officers, either with the sheriff’s office or with other local agencies. And all of them would either be fed the same bullshit from Fox about Jeff receiving an abrupt transfer, or even worse, were already just as corrupt as Fox was and implicated themselves in the Motel X cover-up. Rather than letting himself cry at the depressing thought, Jeff let loose a bitter chuckle, wondering with a sobering level of seriousness whether or not he’d ever see any of them here at the motel, not as law enforcement officials sworn to serve and protect, but as… clients.
Jeff’s sad chuckle quickly grew into a hacking cough as a wave of nausea flooded through his system, amplified by the bitter taste of semen and piss still lingering in the back of his throat. He spat on the ground, desperate to rid
the taste from his mouth, wondering if he was going to vomit. As much as he actually wanted to vomit the foul taste from his body, he knew he needed to resist the urge – the risk of dehydration was simply too high. Mason wouldn’t have given him that water if he didn’t believe it was an absolute necessity to keep him alive through the night. He found himself chuckling again, part of him wondering if he was already starting to lose it. He should have just drunk that piss, he thought to himself. As disgusting as it was, if he’d downed it convincingly enough, maybe Mason really wouldn’t have left him out here to stew for the night.
He wanted to believe that his desire to exploit the trust of his captors and escape this place was the only reason he found himself considering and in some cases even embracing a sense of submission towards them. He thought back to the theater, and the way he had obeyed their demands, suffered through their torments, and come out of it ejaculating all over himself, only to suck the milky cum right off of Mason’s fingers without even thinking twice. It was all just in the name of self-preservation, right? Simply a desperate captive doing whatever needed to be done in order to survive and see another day?
He wanted to say yes, but as much as he loathed admitting it, he knew that there was more to it than that. He could feel the machinations of his captors working within him, calling to his submissive side, pulling the last remnants of hope from his mind and replacing them with the instincts of a slave. He didn’t have long, he realized. If he didn’t escape this place soon, they’d finish breaking him down. Jeff would be gone, replaced with just another nameless, forgotten slave. He thought of Danny, enduring that sort of nonstop physical and psychological torment for months on end… The fact that he still possessed even a shred of the individual he used to be was outright astonishing to Jeff. If it were him in Danny’s shoes, Jeff couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of condition he’d be in by this point. It was a horrifyingly sobering thought. Being trapped here as long as Danny had been, maybe longer, or suffering perhaps an even worse fate… it wasn’t just a possibility for Jeff at this point, it was a probability. And most frightening of all – Jeff’s newfound instincts for submission kept quietly telling him that the only avenue for relief of any kind was to embrace that fact, to cement it from a probability into an inevitability. Into reality. How long could Jeff hold thoughts like that at bay?
