Kidnapped and fucked hard (Story gay)

[gitefetichistes]

He had already spent a week's holiday with us at the fetishist guesthouse. We had played a role-playing game with forced feminisation and a few other little games. I had played the role of director of a centre for female delinquents. He was subjected to a supervised shower, confiscation of his personal belongings, a medical examination, spanking, non-stop feminisation for two days, and a week in a chastity cage.

After this role-play, he enjoyed his holiday and tried out a few things, such as wearing a straitjacket for six hours and being suspended in shibari.

Paul felt completely confident, and so did I, because for these games and practices, it's better to know each other well. I knew his limits and taboos. He told me that for his second holiday with us, he wanted something harder and CNC (Consensual Non-Consensual). In other words, once the game started, it would be impossible to stop before the end.

As he is really nice, and cute as well as being a real player (not one of those fantasists who waste your time for nothing), I decided to spoil him. Translation: give him his money's worth, because I knew he was saving hard to be able to come and stay with us. He had almost given up going to the cinema, restaurants and other leisure activities to afford this type of holiday.
................

Spread out and half lying on the table we use as a reception desk, I handcuffed him before putting a chain around his neck. I connected the chain to his handcuffs so that he couldn't lower his arms below his waist. Then I unzipped his trousers and pulled them down with his underpants to his shoes. This made him hard, a clear sign that he was already starting to enjoy himself.

I slapped him to make it clear that this time it would be harder. Nothing violent, don't worry, these gestures are enough to set the mood. After forcing him to take off his shoes (without using his hands), I helped him remove his trousers and underpants, forcing him to spread his legs. As he wasn't quick enough, he received two more slaps. I made ankle cuffs for him with a short chain, then a cocking device with another chain that I attached to his ankle cuffs, forcing him to bend over. Apart from walking like a lame duck, there was no risk of him running away.

It was in this configuration that I took him to the dungeon, which took some time because it is 100 metres from our reception room. The duck missed the step as he entered the dungeon, and I caught him just in time, telling him that he didn't have to hurt himself because that was my job. That made him laugh, a big mistake in his position.

I pushed him and made him fall onto the blanket I had laid out so he wouldn't get cold. I grabbed one of my whips to flog him, putting my foot on his head. It lasted a little while, nothing too harsh, but I enjoy feeling a submissive struggle under my foot, so why deprive myself? After whipping his bum and thighs, I took off my shoes and socks and told him he was going to lick my feet with conviction if he didn't want to suffer. Like any self-respecting little masochist, he started by telling me to get lost! (With some not very polite words like "go f*** yourself...")

Although I know how to do it softly, I really like it when masos provoke me. He started to take a beating, if you know what I mean. When my straps finally hit his balls, which he was trying to protect with his reddened thighs, the duck gave up and stopped doing --> the duck. So I grabbed one of my whips before settling into the low chair in the dungeon. When I cracked the whip and pointed to my feet, he moved like an earthworm to crawl towards me. As he was lying on his stomach, I had fun teasing the soles of his feet with my whip, and needless to say, he didn't hesitate for long before licking my toes.

After a little while, Paul was in his own little world, I could tell by the way he was licking my feet. He was making love to them with his mouth. (The reader will understand that when I say 'I was getting off,' it's a playful pun and not a repetition in the text.)

Having such a loving mouth at my disposal made me want more. The earthworm was invited to slip between my legs, which I spread to give him access to my crotch, where my penis had just accidentally slipped out of my trousers.

'Behave yourself if you don't want to test my whip at full power under your feet!'

Paul didn't dare answer. Go figure why. He just took my penis in his mouth and gave me a sensual blow job. At first, he didn't really want to taste my man juice, or he was pretending he didn't want to... After a while, when the juice finally started to flow, I didn't give him a choice, telling him it was a welcome aperitif!

Once I was relieved and my three-piece service was packed away, I decided to be considerate by pushing him onto the blanket to cover him and let him meditate while I went to get myself a nice cold pastis. Not just one pastis, because it had made me hot. Besides, my wife was taking her time preparing the slut's meal, so... I took the opportunity to take a shower and wash my bum thoroughly.

When I brought him his meal with a bottle* of water, he announced that his bladder was about to burst and that he also needed to go to the toilet.

A bottle of water is more practical for giving a drink to someone who is immobilised. They can even drink on their own without spilling it everywhere.
I took pity on him and, above all, on my dungeon. So, using a leash, I guided the lame duck to a part of my vegetable garden, forbidding him to leak before I could make the most of his presence. When we arrived in the freshly ploughed area, it had no choice but to fertilise me, and not even organically. Yes, tourists will eat anything... I took some toilet paper and gave it to him so he could clean out the end of his digestive tract.

The return to the dungeon took some time, as the duck was starting to tire. I laid him down, inserting his head into the commode chair. (A kind of cube that I made with a toilet seat so that our tenants could have fun with facesitting or other practices).

Lying on his handcuffs, it became very uncomfortable and even painful. In my great leniency, I temporarily freed his wrists to tie them separately on either side of the commode chair. (Just goes to show I can be nice.) I took advantage of being on my feet to grab some nipple clamps and a riding crop before removing my trousers and underpants. When I opened the toilet seat, he understood what I wanted, even though he already suspected it.

How to turn a submissive into a good arse licker?

Lock his head under a chair with BDSM facesitting
Put nipple clamps on him
Tap his crotch with a riding crop
The chain on the nipple clamps is used to speed up the tongue, the riding crop to demand depth.

To distract myself while he launched into silent palaver, I played with the nipple clamps and my right foot on his cock. That fat pig dared to cum on my foot! Needless to say, he had to clean it up without arguing when I got up to stick my toes in the toilet.

After freeing him from the commode chair, I handcuffed his hands behind his back again before attaching the chain around his neck to one of the rings fixed to the wall. I left him his food bowl and water bottle, then a blanket. I took a photo, telling him it was for the ransom demand and that we would soon know whether his life would be spared or whether I would have to dig a human-sized trench in the garden with the tractor.

What happened next?

I don't have time to write it down. In short, I played the role of the perverse and sadistic kidnapper (which suits me very well) for a total of 48 hours. After his abduction, I feminised him again and 'exploited' him, as this is one of his pleasures when he's not sightseeing in women's underwear.

He was thoroughly spanked on the last night for safety's sake. Indeed, as he had X hours to drive home, having a sore bum while driving helps to keep him awake at the wheel. (Article 18 of the Highway Code)

End


AUTHOR'S NOTE

1°) Paul is not his real name because in our world, discretion is essential.
2°) He is the only one who has the photos I took. I even deleted them from my PC for safety reasons.
3°) The fetishist's cottage really exists; it is our house in Spain.