Contains: bondage, KO, beating, gun, cbt
Copyright © 2005 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.orgWestern Michigan, September 2005
Sitting at the top of dish hill, it was your standard Saturday morning at Inferno. I'd enjoyably overslept, and so missed the early continental breakfast, and brunch hadn't been put out yet, so I was hungry. Mike, had popped off for a bit. I don't quite remember what his excuse was, but he had absconded back to his room. His other half was still sitting around chatting with the group.
Five minutes passed killing time, there were 5 or 6 of us sitting around killing time until brunch when finally, the exodus to brunch began. Still no sign of Mike. Of course, Mike & I had talked about maybe doing a take-down scene, and this was the bait. Knowing my track record with take-down scenes, I figured this would be another flop. When Mike's partner got up and suggested I come along with to get Mike for brunch, I followed along. I more than half-believed that nothing would happen.
We strolled across the property to the old hotel and then down to the "bath house rooms". A bunch of rooms with a communal shower area. That's where they were staying. We got to the room, and he opened the door, with Mike digging around through his stuff. I never did find out what he was supposedly looking for, but when I looked, his hands seemed empty.
It's dark down there, the bath house rooms are downstairs in the basement. So when we got into the room, I took off my sunglasses. Rather than hang them off the front or back of the collar of my shirt, I put them down on the table, or maybe on top of a suitcase. It was always possible that he might actually follow through, I thought. I had completed the thought and let go of the glasses when I was grabbed from behind.
I had turned around to put the glasses down. I mean really, if I was going to be involved in a take down, or even a failed attempt at a take-down, I should at least give them a real opportunity to get started. I can't play "hard to get" all the time and have fun.
It happened fast. An arm snaked in front of me from the right. Instinctively, I swung to my left, my face planting firmly in the hand that held the rag as the right arm hooked under my chin and pulled back. I was thrown slightly off balance and quickly inhaled, breathing in a strong lung full of chloroform laced air through the rag over my mouth and nose. I coughed hard, once, and then the rag was re-situated.
I'm used to being able to toss most would-be assailants off, or at least get them off balance, but damn, did Mike have a good grip. I began to taste the fumes in my mouth. Chloroform always leaves a distinctive taste. I couldn't break his grip on my neck, and I did try... I held an idea of maybe turning this around on him . . . at least until the point when I fell forward onto his bed. The fumes were starting to weaken me. Of course, not nearly as much as Mike thought. He started to back off of me, when I stirred. He came back on and forced the rag back into my face, holding me down with his mass.
The heavy thrumming and rushing had been filling my ears, and tunnel vision hampered my sight. My limbs were feeling like lead, and the thrumming was getting closer to being that white light filling my head. I was going out this time . . . but I didn't quite go all the way.
Rather than being knocked out, I was rendered helpless. I felt like an observer from a distance, mentally watching my body be moved about. Handcuffed. Legs bound. I felt my senses and my control return to normal. I stirred. As I was coming to, Mike began tying my hands together, now that I was sufficiently restrained. After a couple of re-ties, he had my hands bound tightly enough to take off the cuffs.
Lying face down on his bed, dazed, I began to lift my head, but let it fall back down. I was still weak. Mike added more rope around my thighs, around my calves. Now came belts, across my chest and upper arms, more on my legs. Then he folded my legs up, behind me, towards my ass. I finally started getting my fight back, and tried pushing back, but it was too late. Mike had wrapped a belt under my thighs and over my shins, keeping my legs bent. I was a tightly folded package, and not going anywhere.
I tried struggling against the belts, but any time I relaxed from my struggles, the bastard pulled the belts another notch tighter. My knees felt like they were going to pop. The strain was incredible, but I was in a feisty mood...
"There now, you're not going anywhere, are you?" said Mike.
I surprised myself by spitting out, "Go fuck yourself!"
A painful thud landed on my ass through my jeans as he punched, hard. "I'd thought about fucking you instead."
"What, with the same cock you fuck your mother with?". A rain of punches landed on my ass, being somewhat exposed, and a bit of a large target.
"Arrrr" I exhaled, clamping my teeth together. I rather enjoyed this... It's rare that I tell someone off like this, and I don't often tempt fate so blatantly. But I was on a roll. My adrenaline was pumping, I was smiling ear-to-ear. Consequences? I was getting off on playing with consequences. All of a sudden I spit out, "That all you got? My dead grandmother punches better than th..."
My witty banter was cut short as after I felt Mike straddle my back, he put his hands around my neck, his thumbs along the back of my skull and his fingers wrapping around the front. The sudden pressure on my carotids caught me by surprise, and in an instant, I saw the world fade to tunnel-vision, and then blank.
The 'problem' with choke-holds is that as fast as I go out, I generally rocket back to reality at the same speed. It's like a mental reboot. I came back and all my limbs spasmed as everything came back 'on-line'. My tongue felt large in my mouth, as it always does.
Bucking to get him off me didn't work, but it was fun to try. I made another of my cracks either not caring about or really wanting to find out the consequences. "What, you can only abuse someone already tied up? Fucking wimp!"
Mike still sat astride my back. His hands were still around my neck. Mike spoke with that wonderful voice of his, right behind my ear. "Little fucker," he accused as he slowly squeezed, "trying to goad me? It's working. I like a decent challenge." And he punctuated 'challenge' by jumping the pressure up just a notch on my throat. I could breathe, but the world began fading away. As the world faded, my resolve did as well.
"Please, no, stop," I breathed out, but to no avail. In moments, I was out.
I awoke with a start, still bound and blindfolded, but on my side now. I gasped, and jerked, doing the last vestiges of the "chicken dance". My tongue felt horribly fuzzy and large. I hate that part of waking up from KOs. I'm always afraid I'll bite it.
"Are you going to behave now?" Mike asked, unbuttoning my fly and pulling out my cock & balls.
"Yes," I replied wearily.
Mike grabbed my balls in one hand, "What was that?"
"I said 'yes'". Emphasizing the 'yes' so he could hear it.
"Yes, what?" Mike asked, squeezing my balls fairly hard.
Groaning, "Arrgh... Yes..." and through gritted teeth, "ma'am! ARRR". He squeezed even harder, then let go.
A few seconds later, I heard a quick metallic chick, chick and suddenly felt a small piece of cold metal, maybe oval or rectangular in shape, press hard against the soft underside of my jaw.
"Are you going to behave now?", he repeated, though sounded as if he was asking for the first time and started stroking my cock.
I froze stiff for a moment, barely breathing. I thought I knew what was under my jaw, and was scared. Thoughts rattled through my brain, 'we're in a public venue... in his room... people would hear... it's probably unloaded even if it is real... what if it is loaded'.
After a long moment, I said through unmoving jaws, "Yes... sir.".
Spitting on his hand for a little lube, he stroked my cock more. As he pushed the gun harder against my jaw, I was astonished to find my cock getting harder! Mike obviously liked this reaction, because he wedged the gun under some ropes, keeping it propped against my chin.
"Now don't move, and don't make a sound," Mike advised. He proceeded to alternate between beating on my balls and jerking me off. When I would get soft, or if I would start to jerk or moan from his beating of my balls, Mike would simple grasp the gun strapped to my chest. I could feel his finger where the trigger should be.
Eventually the torment became more than I could take, and I shot. My body convulsed slightly as I struggled to stay still, with Mike having one hand on the gun at my jaw, and his other hand continuing to stroke my post-orgasm-sensitive cock head.
As Mike pulled the "gun" away from my chin, I only had one word. "Wow."