Date: Wed, 5 Jun 2019 20:07:47 +0000 From: Andy Mann Subject: Taken And Shaken - Part 1 Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. All names, places and descriptions are purely fictional, and are not based on any real person, living or dead. Please leave now if you are underage, or dislike vivid descriptions of sexual activity between men. Please send any comments to andymann303@outlook.com. And please consider donating to Nifty at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Gay / authoritarian: anal, oral, M+/t - - - - - Taken And Shaken - Part 1 It happened nearly eight years ago, when I was 17 years old. I was on my way to school when I decided to bunk off for the day. Unfortunately, I was wearing my school uniform, so I couldn't go into town - somebody was sure to phone the school and report me. There had been several articles in the local newspaper about hooliganism and truancy, so I decided to go down to the river and chill out. I liked it there, it was really peaceful, especially on a nice sunny day. I had to cut through the woods to get to the river; and as I did so, I heard a car coming down the lane behind me. I didn't want my face to be seen, so I kept my head down as the car drew closer and stopped. It was only when someone grabbed me from behind and placed a damp cloth over my face that I knew I was in trouble. I woke up with somebody touching my naked body. They were running their hands over my thighs, and touching and squeezing my cock and ball-sac. I tried to close my legs, but found that they were spread apart and tied to something that wouldn't give way. A blindfold covered my eyes and there was something in my mouth, forcing it to stay open. I was in a real panic, and so fucking scared. I couldn't move my arms, which were outstretched and also tied to something that wouldn't budge. I was completely helpless and terrified. I could hear what was happening, but only just - I had something in my ears. This was clearly a sex thing, I hoped - if my captor was a nutter, or a cannibal, then it was all over for me now. If sex was on the kidnapper's mind, then so be it. I would rather be alive to tell the tale than chopped up. Of course, after the sex, the kidnapper might panic and kill me anyway. Instinctively, I decided to go with the flow and let the kidnapper molest me. The hand that was stroking my cock was joined by another. The second hand began to probe my arsehole. My friends at school had told me about bum-bandits, and how they used an arsehole instead of a girl's cunny to get off. I arched my back as the pain hit me, but the finger continued to probe my inner sanctum. Then another hand touched my left nipple, so the kidnapper had an accomplice. This really freaked me out, so I thrashed about on the 'mattress' that lay under me. The two perverts continued to play with my bits for a long, long while. I then heard voices as the hands suddenly stopped. Two or three men were talking. The conversation was faint, so I really strained to hear what was being said. "You nabbed him then?" said the first voice. It was a voice I vaguely recognised from somewhere, sort of plummy and upper class. It was really difficult to pick up the inflection of the voice, because of the things in my ears. "Yeah," the second voice replied. "So you owe us a grand in total." "That's quite a large sum," said the first voice. "If you all have a go, he'll work out quite cheap." I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Surely they couldn't be talking about me like that. "We tried to snatch him on Saturday afternoon," continued the second voice, "but there were lots of people around. Then the numpty bunks off school today and falls right into our hands. What a wally!" "He's real pretty and skinny," said a third voice. "And his wedding tackle is real sensitive to the touch." "Okay," said the first voice. "Here's your money. Now you know..." "Shit!" said the third voice. "The iPod's not on." I then realised the things in my ears were headphones. The low whine in my ears, when the iPod was switched on, was pink or white noise. So I had no idea what the men were planning to do with me. I was so frightened. I only knew that I had been snatched to order, and purchased like a piece of meat. It was scary waiting for something to happen. Then someone gently took hold of my cock and reignited the flame. He really knew how to turn me on, and I felt so ashamed when I climaxed. The rest of the men were nowhere near as gentle. My poor cock and ball-sac were really put through the mill by these wankers. Throughout the ordeal, I was thinking about the fact that these men had paid for me. They had employed a couple of thugs to snatch my schoolboy arse off the street, and there was nothing I could do about it. Then, after four orgasms, I was released from my bonds, turned over, and fucked like crazy by several men. The pain was horrendous, even though a gel of some kind was being used all the time. I had been grabbed to order, but would I be released and sent on my way afterwards? I passed out a few minutes later. When I came to, I was lying on a stripped down bed. I was still naked, but the blindfold, mouth-gag and headphones were all gone. Two pairs of handcuffs, secured to the metal headboard, kept me in place on the double bed. The windowless room was large, and the brick-lined walls were painted white. I was probably in a cellar. Someone had cleaned me up; and in the process, shaved off all my pubic hair. I was now a prisoner, a naked prisoner, in a 'subterranean' cell. I then noticed three things: the number six was boldly written on my chest in black ink; the base of my cock was encircled by a narrow leather strap; and the wall to my left was covered with leather straps and whips, with a shelf full of metal and rubber cock-like objects. I shuddered when I heard the door on my right open. Three men, dressed in dark blue boilersuits, released me and bundled me into a sleeping bag. Luggage straps were fastened around the bag at various points, to stop me from wriggling about. "Now stay quiet in there, boy," said one of the men. "If you play up, you're gonna regret it. We're gonna deliver you to your new owner today, so the trip in the van will take about three to four hours. If you need to piss, do it in the bag. The sleeping bag and your clothes will all be burnt tomorrow." The man zipped up the top part of the sleeping bag and left me in total darkness. A luggage strap was fastened around the bag and my head, so I was totally immobilised inside the bag. They lifted me up and carried me out of the cell. Doors opened and banged closed as I was dumped in the van and driven off to my "new owner". A short while later, the zipper was busted open - mid-way along the bag - by the man in the back of the van with me. It was going to be a long and boring journey, so he decided to spice things up a little. The break in the zipper gave him access to my cock and ball-sac. Also, when he turned me over, his hand had full access to my arsehole. He played with my bits for a long, long time; and as he did so, he told me, in vivid detail, how I would fare as a sex slave. Apparently, my new owner was a black man from Trinidad, who lived in England to avoid embarrassing his well-to-do family. His father knew he had a liking for blond schoolboys. This was because he had been sent to an English boarding school and had succumb to the temptation of seeing naked blonds, playing with themselves, in the showers. A housemaster had introduced him to corporal punishment during high tea on Sundays. Rudolph and two blonds were caned and slippered before sitting down to tea and sandwiches in the nude. Mr. Stewart, the housemaster, would then ask the boys to make him a black pudding sandwich: Martin would be the first slice of white bread; Toby would be the second slice of white bread; and Rudolph would be the black pudding in-between. Mr. Stewart would watch the three boys suck and fuck in front of his Polaroid camera. He would then slipper the boys for being "horny rascals" and "disgraceful show-offs". Rudolph always had three or four blonds around, both in and out of school uniform, to cane and slipper. He also employed a couple of minders to keep them in line. These burly heavyweights enjoyed hanging the boys upside down, like sides of beef, and paddling their arses. The men also enjoyed racing the boys, by getting them to bend over and shuffle along, side by side, as Devon and George fucked them to the finish line. * * * Hanging upside down, with my legs spread wide apart, was a real problem for me. It was all being captured on video, so the bondage room was awash with light. I had black leather straps around my ankles, my wrists, and the base of my cock. My hands were just inches from the concrete floor, so I was unable to support my body weight from below, leaving the sturdy ankle-straps to take the full load. "Greetings, boy," said Rudolph, my new owner. "I have a business appointment to attend to, so I am leaving you in the capable hands of my two assistants, Devon and George. They will show you the ropes, so to speak, and get you ready for your new life as a schoolboy slave." "Standard induction, sir?" asked the naked black man on my right. "Yes, George," replied Rudolph, as he ran his coal-black hand over my stressed arse-cheeks and thighs. "Let's get Number Six ready for the harem. He's a pretty boy. So tame him as per normal, but don't scar him." "He looks feisty, sir," said the man on my left. "Yes," said Rudolph to Devon, "but you know how to break in a new slave, without drawing any blood." The well-dressed man squeezed my cock and slapped my arse, before picking up his leather briefcase and leaving the room. "Right," said George to Devon. "Let's check him out for dents and scratches. We'll give him a full M.O.T., while he's up on the hoist, and see if he's in full working order." "Please let me down," I begged. "I'll do whatever you want. Honest I will." "Sorry, Six," said Devon, who was hoping for more of a fight. "We can't play favourites." "True, true," said George, as he fingered my arsehole. "If we miss anything, boy, we'll all be in the do-dar. So you just hang there and let us check you out." The M.O.T. check list went on forever it seemed. Every nook and cranny of my weak and willing body was examined by powerful, black fingers. And when it came to checking out my wedding tackle, both men did it twice. "I'm getting real dizzy," I said, as George tweaked my left nipple, "hanging upside down like this." "You're gonna have to get use to it, Six," said Devon. "It's one of our default positions." It was then that George whacked me across the arse with a broad strap, and made me cry out. * * * "Yes!" I cried out. "I promise to follow all the house rules and obey every instruction." "Say that again, Six," ordered George. "I need to hear it again." The oath of allegiance, and every statement that followed, had to be repeated three times; and as I complied, the leather strap came down on my purple arse-cheeks to seal each and every promise. I was becoming delirious as I swayed back and forth from the hoist. My mind was desperately trying to answer the "Why me?" question, and the only constant that kept appearing in every scenario was the name Martin, my uncle's rich boyfriend, and now our joint lover. He might have been the Martin in Mr. Stewart's black pudding sandwich, and he was certainly rich enough to pay for the abduction of a "tiresome teenager" who wouldn't play ball. Martin and Steve, my uncle, wanted to tie me up and keep me as their sex slave over the summer holidays. I refused point-blank - there was no way I was going to spend six weeks in the nude, tied up in a cabin in the woods, bending over for Martin's rich friends. No, even when Martin cut off my allowance, I was determined to stick to my guns. Of course, I didn't realise that Martin had the means to simply ignore my guns altogether. "You'll be sorry, boy," said Steve, as he tried to win me over. "You're a tree-hugger, right! So why not let us tie you to a tree and fuck your brains out? That way, you get to save the environment and we get to exploit your arse." "No way, Steve," I said. "Slavery is a thing of the past. I'm reading about it at school." "It never went away, John," said Martin. "A friend of mine has several modern-day slaves in confinement on his estate in the country. They're all good-looking bum-boys, like you, and never refuse to obey their master's wishes." "That's illegal. Slavery was..." Suddenly, as I was being lowered to the floor, it all became clear. Martin was definitely behind my abduction; and clearly his slave-owning friend had agreed to show me the error of my snowflake ways. They had conspired, along with my uncle, to enslave me on the estate in the country. I gulped as I realised that six weeks in the cabin might have been preferable to a stay in this well-equipped bondage room.