Slings and Shackles - Chapter 4
Slings and Shackles
© 2021
by
Jonathan Longhorn
Copyright © 2021 by Jonathan Longhorn (jonathan_longhorn at yahoo dot com). All rights reserved. Except for the use of less than two pages in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means is forbidden without the express written permission of the author. Express permission is granted to The Nifty Erotic Stories Archive for storage, indexing, retrieval, and display of this work.
Disclaimer: The material in this work is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and language. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older. All of the characters in this work are assumed to be at least 18 years of age.
Warning: This story contains scenes of intense BDSM domination and submission. Please read another of my stories if intense BDSM bothers you.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. In the real world having sex without using a condom can be very dangerous to your health. Don’t ruin your life or your future. Slip it on before you slide it in.
All trademarks used in this work are the sole property of their owners and have been used without permission or endorsement.
Chapter 4
Kent checked the tightness of my collar and judged it not breath restricting. I was sure that it was Kent, although I couldn’t verify it visibly due to the leather hood and its eye holes being zipped shut. His fingers were slightly calloused; the effects of being a professional baseball player. Of course, it could have been Logan’s fingers doing the checking but I heard his voice—muffled and presumably from the other side of the room. He was undoubtedly on the cell with either Sam or Security checking on the crowd.
“Still sure you want to go through with this,” Kent asked into my right ear. “Nobody will think any lesser of you if you want to change your mind.”
I was beginning to think that maybe I had not taken the time to think this through. Not entirely, anyway. At this point, nobody knew this was me about to do what I was about to do or have done, by my two best friends, except for those two best friends. I ‘could’ technically cancel out right now and no one else would have a clue. But I didn’t say any of that aloud.
I had the ball gag in my mouth so I could offer no more than a garbled response. So, I did the next best thing. I nodded.
Even with the eye holes zippered shut, I could feel Kent’s eyes traveling down my body and back up. Maybe more than once.
“You are so gonna get fucked tonight, Boone,” Kent said. His voice was practically inside my ear he was so close to deliver that message. “Your pussy cunt stuffed with my REAL MAN’s COCK is going to be the hottest ticket in town.”
I rolled my eyes—not that anyone could tell through the hood. Best, close friends or not, I knew Kent wanted my ass. I had known for a long time. Looks like he was going to get his wish tonight. But just tonight. He better enjoy it while he had the chance. I had no intention of making this a recurring scene for him, Logan or anyone else.
“Talk about a Grand Slam,” Kent said, his voice lilting into my ear. “This will be my most memorable ‘slam’ of all.”
Yeah. I’m sure it would be. He was going to fuck and breed me. I knew he had wanted my ass. He had never said so, specifically, out of respect for our friendship but tonight? Well, tonight all bets were off. He was going to get what he had wanted. He might as well celebrate. I couldn’t really blame him.
Another white lightning blast shot through my brain for a moment, fogging my already swirling thoughts. That shit, whatever it was, that Kent had given me in the bourbon was really going to kick my ass.
I felt a hand, first knuckles and then the palm slide up and down my torso—chest to cage, cage to chest and up under my right pit.
“You’re starting to get some peach fuzz actually,” Kent said.
That answered any question as to whose hand it was that was exploring my pecs, nipples, pits, abs.
“A ‘real’ boy. A ‘true’ boy in these scenes—at least for me and Logan—is smooth as glass. Maybe we should shave you down and then spread a nice layer of hair remover all over your body and wipe you down. Every stroke. Every wipe. Taking away another layer of manhood. Taking away any semblance of your Alpha Top Dom status. Reducing you to a complete, total, thorough ‘boy’ for us to use in front of that crowd. That would be something for them to see, huh?”
I gulped. Yeah, that would be something to see. I had ‘seen’ both of them remove the hair from several subs at the beginning of a scene. It really was as though they stripped any masculinity from them with each stroke of the blade or wipe of the removal cream.
Visions of that scene taking place, except this time ‘I’ was the recipient of that attention flashed several times in my mind as the white flashes of light began to fade and my vision returned to, well, inky blackness inside that friggin’ hood.
“We’re ready to go,” Logan announced. “Full house. Over the limit for ticket sales, actually. The FD would shut us down if not for the fact that the Chief bought a ticket himself.”
I felt someone on my left pick up the leash that had been dangling over my shoulder and stretch it out full length.
“Wait,” Kent suddenly. “Be right back.”
I heard his footsteps retreat toward the door. It opened. It closed with a thud. A minute or two passed and then the door opened and thudded shut. Footsteps came to a stop in front of me.
“Lift your left foot, boy,” Kent ordered.
Logan held me steady as I followed orders. I felt a rubber soled slipper of some kind being slid onto my bare foot. When it was secure, I felt fingers tap my right foot. I lifted that foot and the brother of the first shoe was slipped in place.
Kent stood and addressed Logan.
“Sam and his crew keep this place immaculate. We could eat off the floors in The Arena. Some slaves and subs do, actually. Puppy play or whatever. But we’re going to get intense out there. Sweat and other juices will be flying everywhere before we’re done. We don’t need our sub slipping.”
“Excellent. Good thinking, Kent.”
“Thank you,” I said although it probably sounded like another extraterrestrial transmission through a ball gag and a leather hood.
I felt the leash draped over my right shoulder being picked up and drawn taut. Soon, I was being carefully led across the floor of Logan’s dressing room to the door.
This shit just kept getting more real all the time. And now, I couldn’t even see what I was doing.
“Easy, boy,” Logan said with that stern, commanding, yet comforting tone of his. “Trust. We’ve got you. You won’t trip or fall. Easy, boy.”
I nodded and sucked in a deep breath.
“Good boy.”
I followed the leash commands through the door and out into the corridor. Naked. Caged. Collared. Nipple clamps weighted down with 16 ounces of surgical stainless steel balls each. A ball gag shoved in my mouth. A leather hood over my head with the eye holes zippered shut. I must have been one hell of a sight.
As we slowly made our way, I heard Kent, er, Master Kent telling Master Logan that I had peach fuzz and he thought they should add a cue balling to the scene for the crowd’s entertainment. Logan didn’t even take a moment to consider the idea; he enthusiastically agreed.
Of course he agreed. He loved his ‘boy’ to be hairless in a scene.
Suddenly, I felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my caged clit and sack. Huh, I had already stopped thinking of it as my cock and balls at some point. I was thinking of it as my clit and sack. Logan and Kent had been calling them that and with the shot of whatever Kent had put in that bourbon I was beginning to think of them that way, too. Go figure.
“Aarrgghh!” My shriek was muffled by the ball gag and the hood but it still got across the idea that I was not a happy camper with that electro gizmo.
“As our sub,” Logan said briskly. “You do not ‘lead’, boy. You shall remain two and a half steps behind Master Kent and myself. “I know you can’t visually determine that distance, but you can rely on us to correct your gait when needed.”
I was so sure they wouldn’t let me forget my place.
I could not respond verbally, so I nodded.
“Good boy,” Logan said. Err, Master Logan. We had exited his dressing room and were out in the corridor after all. They were now ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ or ‘Master Kent’ or ‘Master Logan’ as was the appropriate response from this point forward. As the Dom, or in this case, Doms, it was the respect they deserved.
Either he was enjoying the hell out of this, or he just wanted to emphasize my status in this arrangement. Another jolt of electricity shot through my clit and sack. I felt them jerking and twitching like crazy inside that cage. I let out another yelp as the jolt surged through me. I wondered if they were smoking at this point. They were certainly getting fried.
“Remember,” Kent said. “As a sub, you look down at all times when we reach the stage. You especially look down after we un-hood you. Unless we command otherwise. An excellent way to follow that guideline is to look no higher than Master Logan’s or my ankle. If you are being led somewhere on-stage, look at our toes or our heels to know where to go. Understand?”
I nodded and mumbled out a ‘Yeth, Thir’ as best I could.
They began walking ahead of me and I followed at what I hoped was a respectable distance. If the leashes were taut, I assumed that was sufficient. I didn’t receive any additional clit shocks so I guess I was doing okay.
When I could actually ‘see’ where I was going, The Arena didn’t seem that far from our dressing rooms. But, with my eye holes zippered shut, my vision completely veiled, it seemed to take us forever.
Soon, however, I heard the distinctive clicking and the groaning of the immense, heavy doors at the entrance to The Arena as they were being swung open. A roaring crowd inside was suddenly as silent as a tomb. Quite a trick considering there were more than 500 people on the other side.
“And here they are, gentlemen,” that was Sam’s voice over the speakers. “Master Logan and Master Kent are leading in our celebrity sub. Look at the body on their ‘boy’, why don’t you? Oh my. That is one fine specimen. Oh. And what’s this? Their ‘boy’ is caged? And he has weighted nips. Look at those pretty things dangling downward under the weight they are carrying. My. My. My.”
I wondered if Sam was privy to who was under the hood? He was certainly enjoying his role as emcee of this spectacle. If he didn’t know, he would find out along with everyone else when my two Doms removed the hood.
Panic started setting in. If I could feel it, I was sure Master Logan and Master Kent would take note. My incredible acting talent didn’t seem to be enough to cover the rising anxiety.
“Step up,” Master Logan said. I lifted my right foot and reached it out and then down. Firmly planted on the first step of the stairs leading up onto the stage, I lifted myself upward. “Step,” Master Logan repeated. I lifted my left foot and followed suit. There were eight steps in all and I navigated them blindly with the direction of my two Doms without falling flat on my face or tumbling backwards, to land on the floor flat on my back or cracking my skull open.
Once we were up on the stage, I was led by those two leashes attached to my collar to what I assumed was ‘center’ stage. I was maneuvered around to face the throngs that were staring up at us from the floor of The Arena.
Soon after, I felt a block being pressed between my feet and my legs being spread outward until I thought my hips would crack, or—I would split right up the middle and the two halves of my body would fall to the side of the stage. Cuffs were attached to my wrists and my arms began raising and stretching outward until I was, literally spread-eagle before everyone. Within seconds, I heard the distinct buzz of a razor and then the throbbing blades at its head scraping over my skin. Neck to chest, chest to pits, pits back to chest, chest down to my abs, around to my ass cheeks, ass cheeks spread wide and that razor going down the deep cleft of my ass to my taint, and then from my taint downward along my right thigh to my ankle. From my right ankle, the razor was moved to my left ankle and it proceeded to climb upward to my crotch.
With every swipe across my crotch, it was like Master Kent’s words replayed in my head, and—took hold of my mind. Each swipe took away a layer of my manhood. Each swipe guided me that much closer to my actual status as a ‘boy’. I felt the cage being unlocked and my aching clit and sack were freed momentarily before one hand pulled my clit out of the way and another hand firmly grasped my sack at its very base and squeezed tight—the razor made pass after pass across my sack removing any hair or fuzz that might have been there—removing, the last vestiges of my masculinity. Making me a ‘boy’. And my brain seemed to lock onto that fact so completely it was almost like I could hear a deadbolt lock being slipped into place.
Cheers and applause resounded throughout the room as gloved hands began applying a full body—from the neck down, anyway—coating of a cool, slightly stinging gel. Even my crotch and sack and the cleft of my ass got their fair share of the goop.
“I am sure you would all agree,” Master Logan’s voice boomed. Boomed, enough to startle me slightly. Master Kent leaned close and gave me a rather soothing ‘Easy, boy. Easy’ command. “A true ‘boy’ should present as a ‘boy’,” Master Logan continued. The crowd roared and cheered, the applause were thunderous. “And we want our ‘boy’ to fit the bill for tonight’s session.”
After Master Logan’s little speech, I was suddenly being drenched from all sides as water crashed against my body and cascaded downward. Hands spread my ass cheeks wide and water poured down my valley. Soon, very soon, the follicles of my manhood were following the water down a drain on-stage.
“There now,” Master Logan announced rather triumphantly. “Now our ‘sub’ looks like a sub. Like the ‘boy’ that he is meant to be.”
Another white flash of lightning streaked through my brain and at the same time, Master Logan’s words swirled around in the vortex that had taken over my brain the last few minutes. ‘I am truly their ‘boy’ now’ seemed to be imbedding itself in my mind.
That thought slipped away as I felt a hundred fingers of leather suddenly drifting slowly across my chest, up and over to drift and tease my shoulders.
Oh. My. Fucking. Fuck!
They were going to flog me! They were going to flog me in front of this enormous crowd!
Numerous hands and a pair of towels were drying my body, everywhere. More hands than Master Kent and Master Logan possessed. They must have motioned stagehands to come assist. From past experience, I knew that there would be at least two, if not four stagehands at the ready for anything needed to help make a public scene as successful as possible.
A hand was groping my clit and sack and I felt the all-too-familiar clench and tightness of the cage as it encompassed my junk and was locked in place. My slight whimper at the crush of the cage was eradicated by a strike of leather across my shoulders. That first strike was followed by another in quick succession. And another. From the left. One from the right. One from each direction simultaneously. Over and over. They struck my shoulders twenty-five times each before moving downward the small of my back and took aim at my butt cheeks. Twenty-five more slaps of leather fingers to bare butt cheeks. Each. Twenty-five left. Twenty-five right. I was sure that my ass was glowing bright red by the last of those lashings.
The crowd roared their approval.
Someone yelled out ‘five thousand if you flog his chest!’
Master Logan bellowed for someone to take his donation ‘slip’ to collect before he left the premises.
And, they did. The leather fingers struck full-on. Lashing me. Hard. With powerful slaps of leather to each pec and my abs. I moaned and whimpered through my ball gag and yet the flogging didn’t stop. My pits were not immune. Twenty-five strikes across any and all parts of my body that they targeted.
I know tears were streaming down my face. My garbled moans and groans seemed amplified no end. Was I on a mic somehow?
The crowd roared and roared.
Someone yelled out ‘flog his nuts!’.
“Oh, we have something better than flogging down there,” Logan roared back.
Fuck!
I knew what was coming.
And it did. My body twitched and jerked as several lightning bolt shocks streaked through my clit and sack. One, two, three, four, five…in quick succession. My moans and groans were heard loud and clear—though muffled by the ball gag—through my leather hood. Yes, I must have been mic’d somehow.
“Our ‘boy’s’ clit and sack are encased in an electrified cage, my friends,” Master Logan said proudly. “With a press of a button,” he pressed again and again and yet again. My body jerked and twisted and my clit and sack were fried yet again. “Each press of a button and electro-shocks shoot through, reminding him of his place.”
‘Fry that clit!’ ‘Fry that clit!’ ‘Fry that clit!’ The chant started small and then became a roar like the home team crowd cheering their boys on out on the field. ‘Fry that clit!’ ‘Fry that clit!’ ‘Fry that clit!’
And, Master Logan did. He zapped and zapped and zapped. I jerked and twisted and twitched. My hips bucked and rolled and bucked some more. That mic, wherever it was, picked up my moans and groans and whimpers and ‘aarrgghh!’ and spewed it out over the speaker system.
The crowd roared again in approval.
Remind me of my place? Yeah. I got it. I fucking got it. I’m your boy. I’m your sub.
My brain swirled deeper into the vortex that was cracking open my mind right now. Fuck! That stuff Master Kent gave me was kicking my ass! Enough with the…aarrgghh! Master Logan or Master Kent must have read my thoughts there and felt the need to remind me yet again of what I was. Their sub. Their sub. They were my Doms. I…was…their…sub.
“Friends. Guests. Masters. Doms. Subs who are privileged enough to be included in this audience,” Master Kent said.
There are subs present? Witnessing me going from Alpha Top Dom to thoroughly and completely ‘dom’d’ sub? What if one of my regular subs is present? What if they see me going down that sub hole? What would they think of me after this?
“We give you, our ‘sub’ for this evening’s prime time scene that you paid so generously to witness.”
Fuck! Here it comes!
And with that, the hood was lifted from my head.
Silent shock and awe gave way to murmurs and gasps. Holy fucks! Is that…? Isn’t that…? Holy shit! That’s…! as recognition sparked in the eyes of five hundred plus people gathered there in The Arena.
They knew who I was. They all knew. Hollywood heartthrob. Alpha Top Dom known in the local community, regionally, and throughout the state, not to mention known among other Doms across the country. And here I was, a ‘celebrity guest sub’ for the night. A guest sub to be used and abused by my two best friends, Alpha Top Doms far and away above others.
And the crowd erupted so loudly that people in the next county could probably hear the din.
‘D Boone Mansfield?’ ‘That’s D Boone Mansfield!’ ‘Holy fuck! Their sub is D Boone Mansfield?’ ‘What the fuck! Their sub is D Boone Mansfield!’
Yep.
They knew.
They all knew me.
Master Logan and Master Kent were going to ‘Dom’ the fuck out of me—D Boone Mansfield. Master Boone was their ‘celebrity’ sub?
Talk about a ‘Grand Slam’.
END of Chapter 4
To be continued . . .
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