Stories - The Long Hours Of Raw Lust - Pt 1

Here is a brand new story from a friend and avid reader of the blog.  He goes by the name of Captor and this is part one of 'The Long Hours Of Raw Lust'.  Hope you enjoy it.  And thanks Captor for providing the material!

Part 1

It was just 3.30 in the evening but it had gone dark. Brad walked to his favourite pub that was just a block away. He was a large chubby man. A black turtleneck T Shirt covered his large, chesty torso. Thick thighs stretched the denim of his old tight jeans. He saw a small queue outside a door. It housed a discreet gay club that attracted bondageaficionados. It turned out that some beefy men lay hogtied and gagged on massage tables in some of the rooms. For a fee, one could go and torment them as they squirmed and heaved their heavy helplessly bound bodies. The length of time depended on the fee!  God! The gimmicks employed to attract clients, Brad chuckled to himself.  He was in a terribly horny mood. Brad decided to pay for an hour and torment one of those tied up beefy guys.

 "Come with me! Don't turn around!" a voice hissed in his ear. Something sharp jabbed his lower back. A hand grasped  his thick fleshy arm and propelled him towards a large car. As they reached it, another order hissed in his ear, "Cross your wrists on your ass!" He complied. Brad wasn't particularly alarmed. He even thought this must be some antic by Steve his prankster buddy. Cold steel went around his thick wrists and he heard the cuffs click in place. 

 A group of guys in leather saw this scene. Brad felt a surge of relief. But all they did was let out appreciative wolf whistles! One of them spoke to his captor behind him, "That's a chubby fucker you've got cuffed and ready! You lucky bloke!" His captor laughed along with them. They walked away.

   Brad was pushed into the back seat of a car. With his wrists cuffed behind him, he fell on his face on the soft cushioned seat. Before he could turn around and kick out at his kidnapper, he was blindfolded. "Open your mouth!" ordered a voice. He did and promptly felt a gag being tied tight across his mouth. It was probably a large handkerchief.  

  A hand ran all over his rump. He heard a groan and the hand travel over the backs of is thick thighs. He felt his cock stiffen and rise in his briefs. God! Just what he needed! As he tried to shift his position, he felt his ankles being roped together. The next thing he knew was his legs being jackknifed and his ankles being tied to his cuffed wrists. "There! All tied up and nowhere to go!" he hears a chuckle and a hand slaps his butt.

  The car door shuts and he feels the car move. It gathers speed. He mentally thanked his captor for the comforting warmth in the car. It was the height of winter and bitterly cold outside. "It's quite a drive." his captor spoke, "You're comfortable, aren't you? Just relax. Hehe!" Groan! Hadn't he heard these words in countless bondage videos. Spoken by the cold sadistic captor. So predictably boring.

"If I'd wanted you to be comfortable, you'd sitting in the front with me. I want you to be very uncomfortable. Priming you for what lies ahead for you." This was neither boring nor predictable words! What was in store for him?

 The gentle rocking of the car as it sped at a good clip would've put Brad to sleep. But he was hogtied with his feet nearly touching his hands. His hands could feel the heels of his boots! It was a very cruel way to tie up someone, he mused. How long would he be in this highly uncomfortable position, he wondered. The car went over a bump. He grunted as his cock grew harder Brad shifted his body so that he lay on his upper chest. No relief there. His swollen nipples rubbed against the material of his turtleneck T shirt every time the car rocked. He sighed into his gag. 

 Brad cursed himself as he'd chosen to wear tight jeans and tighter briefs. They cut into his groin painfully. His shoulders began aching at the strain of being pulled back. The handcuffs ate into his fleshy wrists. He flexed his meaty hands. There was an ache in them. At least blood circulation hasn't been affected. 

  As he massaged his fingers, he decided to learn more about his kidnapper. He wasn't a Britisher, that's for sure. Not a White Brit, he corrected himself. He spoke good English but with a clipped accent that Brad couldn't place. A brand of English so dear to Hollywood and British movie makers when they had to show an Indian, Pakistani or a Bangladeshi.  So,his kidnapper was a South Asian. With that deduction came another thought.

 Who was he? Why had he picked on Brad? Had there been a case of mistaken identity? Was the Asian, a secret agent of another country? And had he mistaken Brad for a British spy? Nah! He was no James Bond. He was not even a Daniel Craig! He was a comfortably chubby fellow. The scene where Daniel Craig is stripped naked and bound in a chair and tortured brutally by the sadistic villain played in his mind. Would he be able to withstand such torture? Brad's cock responded the only way it was programmed. It went rock hard in his tight briefs. He prayed it wouldn't shoot its load. The tight T shirt played havoc with his extra sensitive nipples. What a bloody predicament to be in, he thought and moaned into his gag. The car slowed down and came to a halt. He smelled fresh beer and a gentle belch.

 "Sorry! What a lousy host I am! Having beer all by myself!" Brad heard the car door open. With a few grunts and curses, Brad was flipped onto his back. Chilled beer soaked his gag and trickled into his mouth. He swallowed the welcome liquid. He grunted as the ice cold beer was poured onto his nipples that poked through the material of his T shirt. A warm mouth sucked the beer very very slowly. A hand went up and down the hard bulge in his tight jeans.  Brad tried to heave his massive body. It was futile.

 Finally, his kidnapper probably got bored. He felt the doors open and close and the car picked up speed. Brad was entirely in the dark about why he was bound so cruelly and rendered so helpless. But one thing he was sure of. He was in the hands of an expert torturer. Brad lay on his back. An even more uncomfortable position as his arms and legs were now behind him. His cock protested in his jeans. He decided to be fatalistic and softly hummed  "Que sera sera..." in his gag.