When the political situation had become too tense in his middle-eastern country of origin, Rasheed had decided it was safer to emigrate to Europe and quickly. So he didn't have much of a choice as to the means - he'd heard the network he had got in touch with had a nasty reputation of selling women into prostitution but he figured he was a middle-aged man and would be safe enough. What a mistake! In Europe, he was taken to a remote country area to be sold as a sex slave to men. Too late, Rasheed had realized that his well-toned body and eastern good looks made him very attractive to some people. And now here he was, in his underwear, being eyed by prospective buyers, like a piece of livestock. From their looks, the way they spoke and the way they dressed, they seemed to be peasants. In his native country, Rasheed had been a well-paid civil servant, with nothing but contempt for peasants. How there mighty had fallen!
Thursday, 27 October 2016
Monday, 5 September 2016
Now, this one is not exactly new but the colouring is. After my last post which was a story without a picture, here's a picture without a story. Anybody care to contribute an explanation for this old man being put in predicament bondage?
Saturday, 27 August 2016
Lemme tell ya about my pal Joe. Joe is this chubby little guy in his late fifties or early sixties – he would never admit to a day over 45, though. We met online and started chatting. I don’t know why I bothered with him. I mean, I’m the kind of guy who likes to do things for real and he struck me at once as the kind of flake who fantasizes a lot but never actually does anything about making his fantasies come true. Still, I humored the little fucker. Heck, here was a guy almost twenty years older than me and obviously still a virgin S-and-M-wise, but so very fascinated by it.
Boy, was he intrigued! When we started chatting online, he kept asking me so many questions I thought it would be easier to just meet over a beer and talk. I was pleasantly surprised when he turned up at our first encounter – we had agreed to meet at a local bar. His type very seldom turns up for anything! But turn up he did, and we started seeing each other once or twice a week. And I must admit he had a hot little body – about 5’1”, very dark hair that was just starting to turn grey, a very furry chest, from what I could see when his shirt was open. But that was all I could see. This idiot was always fully clothed. All he seemed interested in was talk, talk, talk. He wanted to know everything I did as a Master. He was a glutton for every kind of detail I could give him.
- So what did you do to him, then? Did you fuck him? Was he still wearing the jock strap? And blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda.
It got on my nerves after a while. It started to dawn on me I was being played for a sucker. Joe used me to feed his fantasies. I started telling him less and less. The more he pressed for details of what I did during my scenes, the more evasive I got. Finally, one day, I told him :
- Okay, Joe, you want to know what my scenes are like? You come and watch.
- Watch? What do you mean, watch? Like, stand in a corner and… just watch?
- Yeah, you got that right. That’s exactly what I mean. Get your little butt in the corner of an actual dungeon and watch what’s going on. Except I got a chair for you to sit on. You needn’t stand all the time.
For once, Joe was speechless. I knew he desperately wanted to say yes. I also knew I shouldn’t leave him the time to chicken out.
- Listen, Joe. I got a sub coming at my place in half an hour. If you’re game, you come with me. You’ve been to my place, you know what it’s like.
He had come to my place a couple of times for drinks and of course, I’d shown him my dungeon. Not much of a dungeon, actually, more of a play space I set up in a spare room. Still, it had a cage, a bondage table, quite a lot of gear – the things you accumulate over the years!
We drove to my place and Joe was uncharacteristically close-mouthed during the ride. I guess he must have thought this was it – that thing he’d been fantasizing about for years, heck, decades, he’d finally get to see what it was like. It was only a ten-minute ride to my place. When we stopped at a red light, I looked at Joe’s face. He was staring ahead of him, his dark brown eyes looking at nothing in particular. His round bald head was sweating profusely, and it wasn’t because of the heat. Looking down, I saw a bulge in his jeans. Little bastard was getting excited just at the thought of what was going to happen. Well, I thought, I’m just going to have to make it better than his best daydream, won’t I?
When we finally arrived at my place, we went straight to the “dungeon”.
- Go and sit in the chair, Joe. My sub Tim should be here pretty soon. He knows I get ornery when he’s late.
Joe sat down in the big heavy wooden chair I had put in a corner of the room. It’s a big solid oak thing I bought at a garage sale a couple of years ago. I mean, the thing’s solid and really heavy. The chair has some leather restraints fastened to it. As soon as Joe was sitting in it, I started buckling the arm restraints. I’m so used to doing it I’m very quick and efficient. Joe didn’t have time to get away.
- Hey! What gives? he cried.
- Joe, my man, I’m not going to hurt you. But you have to understand I can’t allow a spectator watching in on one of my scenes like he’s watching TV. A good scene has to have a certain mood and the only way you can watch without spoiling the mood is by being inconspicuous.
- Waddaya mean “inconspicuous”? Hey! You’re not going to tie my legs too, are ya?
- Of course I am. Isn’t that just what I’m doing right now? Think about it Joe. Imagine you’re a sub coming to get your kicks with your Master. How would you feel if a complete stranger was there, watching the proceedings, maybe making a comment or two or asking questions like he is at the fucking zoo?
- I’ll be quiet. I told you I would!
- You sure will.
By then, I had him fastened to the chair by his arms and legs. The restraints were padded, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. There were more restraints – a couple of leather straps to hold the “victim” to the back of the chair and one to hold the upper legs tight against the seat.
- Please, stop! I’ll be good. I won’t move or say a word, I swear.
Little chubby Joe was getting very uncomfortable. I didn’t want that. I looked him in the eye.
- Joe, I want you to relax and enjoy what’s going to happen. I told you I wasn’t going to hurt you and I mean it. In fact, I’m not going to touch you during the whole scene. You’ll be sitting in the corner and my sub will hardly notice you.
That seemed to calm him. I went to get a couple of items from my bag of tricks – a bandana and a roll of tape. I quickly gagged Joe with the bandana and secured it in place with the tape. He was now not only immobile but silent. All he could do was moan helplessly in his gag.
- Yes, Joe, I like my men to be seen and not heard. I’d told you that already, didn’t I? And…
Just then, the bell rang. It was Tim, right on time. I heard Joe “mmmmnphh” into his gag, as I went to open the door. A couple of minutes later, I was back in the room with Tim at the end of a leash, his hands cuffed behind his back, blindfolded with a black piece of cloth. I looked at Joe and held my hand in front of my mouth in a hushing motion. Joe got my meaning and did not make a sound.
Now, Tim is a handsome bear of a man, a big, beefy guy in his early sixties with light grey hair and a beard. He was wearing a leather jacket and a pair of jeans one size too tight. Since this is Joe’s story, and not Tim’s, I won’t go into too much detail as to exactly what I did to Tim. Let’s just say that it was long, painful, sometimes exquisitely so, and that it involved, among other things, a bondage table, plenty of rope, several sizes dildoes and lots of lube, titclamps and numerous clothespins, and various other items. Nothing I like better than to take a big, bad ol’daddybear of a man and make him my plaything.
Every once in a while, I’d have a look at Joe to see haw he was doing. He kept silent, just as I had signaled him to, but boy! was he squirming! He was obviously very much aroused by what he saw, but of course, being strapped to my big wooden chair, he couldn’t jerk himself off. I had done a good job of securing him to the chair and the whole situation must have been driving him wild. Here was his ultimate fantasy happening right in front of him, like a live porn video, and he couldn’t touch himself! All he could do was IMAGINE it was him roped on the bondage table, his chubby little furry body that was being fitted with the tit clamps and clothespins, his arsehole that was being invaded by the dildoes, and so on, and so forth… But actually, this was all happening to someone else. And it could have been him.
Finally, when I was done with Tim, I took him back, still blindfolded, to the entrance hallway so he could get dressed. At some point, Tim looked at me and said :
“Was there somebody else in the playroom? I kept hearing those muffled sounds, a bit like somebody moaning in a gag.”
I burst out laughing and told Tim about the deal with Joe. Tim got a good laugh out of it too. He said knowing that Joe was there would have been distracting, but now, when he would wank off thinking about today’s scene –as he always did between meets – it would make his memories even hotter.
When I got back to my playroom, I saw that little Joe was all red in the face. Thinking that maybe he had difficulty breathing, I quickly took off the gag.
- You bastard! he shouted. You mean son of a bitch!
I was taken aback. Just a little.
- What’s the matter, Joe? Didn’t you enjoy it?”
- Enjoy it? How could I enjoy it being trussed up like this? Get me loose, willya? I gotta wank off something bad!
- Now Joe, I think you are being downright ungrateful. There I’ve been fulfilling your wish, your longtime wish, that you’ve been asking me about for months, and that’s all the thanks I get? Just for that, I got half a mind to put that gag back on and leave you alone for a few hours.
I had said that with my stern Master’s voice. It was Joe’s turn to be taken aback.
- You wouldn’t do that, would you? he said in a slightly fearful tone.
- You bet I would, I answered. Didn’t I do exactly as I said I would, just now?
- Oh, I wish you hadn’t, Joe said. He was no longer shouting. He seemed anxious to get back in my good graces.
- You didn’t answer my question, Joe. Did you or didn’t you enjoy what you saw?
- I did. But also I didn’t. Because I couldn’t do anything.
- So what do you wish you could have done?
- C’mon, spill it! That’s an order!
- I… I wished I could have taken Tim’s place.
- Now be careful what you say, Joe. If you give me power over you, I’ll definitely take it. You want more of what you saw, you won’t be a spectator.
All the while I was looking at Joe’s eyes, who had become imploring, and the bulge in his pants. There was a wet spot there. Obviously, what Joe had seen had made him leak a lot of pre-cum.
- I’ll give you everything you want, Sir! Everything!
Now, I have to give Joe credit – he caught on quick. Him using that word “sir”, that told me more than enough that he meant business. I untied the straps that were holding him to the chair.
- All right, I said as he was getting up. Now, you strip. Down to your undies.
- Yes, sir!
Such eagerness in his voice.
Such eagerness in his voice.
And now I could see it all. The furry chest. The chubby little body. Joe was just as scrumptious as I had suspected he was.
When he was down to his briefs, I put a couple of leather restraints on his wrists and fastened his hands behind his back. I could hear his breathing getting heavier. I started playing with his fat little man boobs and nipples.
- Now, Joe, you called me a couple of nasty names a moment ago…
- Oh, Sir, I’m so sorry. I was upset. I was afraid you were just going to… you know… kick me out of your playroom…
- Why were you afraid I’d do that, Joe?”
He looked down and said, in a hoarse voice :
- I know I’ve been such a nuisance to you, Sir. I just couldn’t… you know… take the plunge… And then when I saw Tim… I thought "what does he want to have to do with me, when he can have men like that?"
He looked so sweet when he said that, like a little boy who just got into trouble.
- Well Joe, I think it was a bit presumptuous of you, thinking that.
- Yes, sir, it was.
I lifted his chin up, so he’d look me in the eye.
- Joe, you never try to second-guess your Master. You just do as you’re told. Is that understood?
- Yes, Sir!
- You need to be punished for the bad words you used. You know how bad boys get punished?
- Er… I’m not sure, Sir?
- They get a good spanking. Now come over here.
I led Joe by the ear over to where my special chair for giving spankings was. I sat down and pulled Joe over my knee. With both hands tied behind his back, he had no means to resist. He still had his briefs on, but that wasn’t much protection, was it?
As I started to slap Joe’s chubby little bottom, I thought that this had definitely been worth waiting for. Joe probably thought so too.
Saturday, 20 August 2016
Colonel Strong had just spent a very strange couple of hours. First, the two guys who had surprised him in his hotel room in the middle of the night had had their way with him which, strangely enough, had not involved buggering him. They had fondled his bound and gagged naked body, they had licked him all over which, Colonel Strong had to admit, wasn't so bad. In fact, when they had licked his cock and balls, it had given him a hard on, and the two guys had taken turns sucking him off until he had come in the bald guy's mouth. The guy had sucked off all the cum. Then his mate had sucked him off and then he had sucked his mate, all in full view of the colonel, who lay bound hand and foot on the bed. Then the queerest thing had happened - watching those two f-gg-ts having it off with each other had given him another hard on and as soon as they were finished pleasuring one another, the slim guy had given him a blow job again while his bald mate was licking the colonel's asshole. At first, Colonel Strong had felt uneasy about that, as he thought he was being prepared for taking it up the arse, but as nothing of the sort seemed about to happen, he had relaxed and enjoyed the novel sensation of being pleasured at both ends. And he had come again.
That had left him completely whacked. He vaguely registered the two men getting dressed then calling somebody on a cell phone. Minutes later, there was a knock on the door and a big guy had come in, pushing a big crate on a hand truck. What were they planning? During his "ordeal", Colonel Strong had hoped the guys would leave after they were done, probably leaving him tied up naked on his bed to be found by the hotel staff, which would have been embarrassing enough, but couldn't be helped. But it seemed the guys were not only after sex. Were they planning to rob him? Surely, he didn't have enough stuff to fill this big crate?
Then the guys, with the help of the new arrival, had started tying him up again, this time with his hands in front of him, and had forced him to sit in the crate, which was about big enough for the colonel's big hulk of a body. The retired military man hadn't been able to resist. He wasn't as… strong as he used to be in his prime, plus the whole thing of being woken up in the middle of the night, tied up and blown off twice had left him pretty tired. Also, the third guy was a heap of muscles, and there was no resisting him. After the colonel had been forcibly sat in the crate, he had been tied some more, then his mouth had been covered with several turns of masking tape, and finally, the tape had been used to blindfold him. He could feel big blocks of foam being put on his sides and under his legs, while he heard preparations being made - obviously, his kidnappers were taking all his bags and stuff. It was when he thought of that that Colonel Strong realized what was happening - he was being kidnapped. And in a darn humiliating manner, too. They were packing him in a crate like he was a piece of furniture to be taken somewhere. How dare they do that to him? He was furious. And he could do nothing about it, trussed up that he was like some big sausage!
Suddenly, Colonel Strong heard the sound of the front of the crate being slid down. He could feel the rough surface of the wood against his toes. Then he felt another big block of foam put in front of him. He could literally not move an inch. Then he heard the top of the crate being put in place and somebody hammering some nails in, obviously using something to soften the sound of the hammer. It was quickly done.
Colonel Strong started to panic. During his career in the military, he had been in some pretty pickles, but never anything that bad. He felt the crate being moved up on one side so as to slide the hand truck under it and the next moment, away they were going. That foam wasn't so bad, after all, as it prevented the bundled captive to be thrown about the inside of the crate as it moved along the corridor, then inside what he guessed must be the hotel lift. Then he guessed, again, what must be happening - the crate was being put inside some vehicle. What the h--- was wrong with the hotel staff? Why wasn't anybody stopping those guys? Surely having a truck come for a crate in the middle of the night was not business as usual? But then... But then who said it was still the middle of the night? Colonel Strong had no idea at what time he had been assaulted, nor how long exactly his "ordeal" had lasted. It could be early morning. And his hotel room he had paid for in advance, and today was the day he was supposed to leave for that beach resort on the coast. The people at the hotel might just think he'd changed his plans and left earlier. And since his kidnappers had taken his cell phone, it would be simple for them to cancel the beach resort. The colonel was a widower, he had never had children. Nobody was waiting for him to get in touch. Nobody would notice he was missing for days. As the vehicle he had been loaded in started, a thousand thoughts raced through Colonel Strong's mind. What did those guys want with him? Was he being kidnapped for ransom? Was he being taken as a hostage? He had never felt so helpless in his whole life.
Friday, 5 August 2016
This one was drawn five years ago but I just re-touched and coloured it. That's when I decided that the "guest" would be Indian. I wasn't sure where he was from when I drew him. I don't know much more about this picture. I think the "guest" was maybe a repairman who came to this house to do some repairs and at some point, was given a spiked drink that put him to sleep... and when he woke up, he found himself in this weird situation. What's worse is the tying up of his cock and balls has actually given him a hard-on. He is waiting for somebody to come with a mixture of fear and anticipation. What are those people going to do to him? They are very rich and he is from a lower caste, so it doesn't really matter what happens to him, poor guy.
Thursday, 28 July 2016
This started long ago as a drawing which didn't make a lot of sense. Then recently I scanned it, played around with it with Manga Studio and colored it. As I was coloring it, as story started taking shape in my head. I decided to write it down. It was the start of the kind of story I would post on the Nifty.org some time ago. But on nifty, that type of story would soon be drowned under the accumulation of incoming stories about young men being used, being taken into slavery and blah blah blah. So I decided to run it here instead. If you like it, do take the time to say a little word about it in the comments section. It'll be a great incentive for me to continue.
Trials of the Old Men (1)
Old Husseyn was puzzled. Today, Master Omar had chained him in the “Room of Pain”, as he called it. That was par for the course. Ever since Omar had bought him off his family three years before, Husseyn had been his slave. Whenever Husseyn thought about it, tears came to his eyes – sold into slavery by his own son! Could there be a crueler fate? But fate had not been so unkind. Omar, the slave trader, had not bought him so he could sell him at a higher price. How could he? Who would buy a skinny old man like him? In fact, Omar had bought him for himself – for his own pleasures. So it was that old Husseyn had become Omar’s love slave, and it hadn’t been easy for a proud old pater familias like him to become the plaything of another man. But Omar hadn’t been that bad – he seemed to have grown genuinely fond of Husseyn and when he wasn’t using him sexually, he had treated him well, given him his own room, fed him well… sometimes, he could even be tender, but that didn’t happen so often. Most of the time, he was still strong and ruthless Master Omar.
Except today, it wasn’t Husseyn who was being spanked by Omar’s big paddle-like hands, it was another older man. Who was he? He was obviously a westerner. Surely Omar couldn’t have bought him?
- You seem puzzled, chibani, Omar had finally told Husseyn after tying the old westerner to some of the ceiling ropes. “Chibani” meant old man and was Omar’s pet name for Husseyn.
Old Husseyn was gagged and could not answer his master’s query. The newcomer had remained silent as Omar had brought him in the room, naked, and had let himself be tied without uttering a word.
- This man is a gambler, Omar explained. He’s been living all his life off his gains. But it seems lately, he’s lost his touch. Or maybe he’s not so good at cheating as he used to be? Is that true, Richard?
The old westerner just grunted.
- Ah, I see that you try and remain silent. And well you do. You see, chibani, Richard here lost a lot of money at my friend Ali’s gambling place. And I mean a lot. There’s no way he could repay it. So I offered to repay his debt if he could prove to be a real man and take everything I could throw at him for four days without uttering a certain word. If he can hold it out, he’ll walk away from here a free man and his debts paid for. If he can’t, then his debts will still be paid, but he’ll have to stay here as my slave. You know what that means, don’t you, chibani?
And then, without further ado, Omar began spanking Richard. Big, strong slaps the sound of which echoed through the mostly empty room. Husseyn had often been spanked by Omar – oh, the shame, an old man like him punished like a little boy – and he knew Omar was being relatively gentle. After about fifteen minutes, Richard’s bottom was quite red already and Richard himself was breathing heavily, his brow covered in sweat. Omar finally stopped.
- So, my dear Richard, how was that for starters?
- Was that the worst you can do? Richard answered in a hoarse voice. Why, I’ve got worse from the Head when I was a schoolboy.
Husseyn couldn’t believe his ears. This old man was defying Omar. He was either very tough or very foolish. Or both.
- I’m sure your “Head” was a very fair man who wouldn’t have spanked a young boy without a good reason, Omar said.
Richard chuckled :
- I was a very troublesome little boy.
- I’m sure you were, Omar said. And you’ve turned into a very troublesome man. You robbed Ali’s father blind for years. And then Ali himself. You deserve to be punished for all that trouble you gave them.
- Do your worst, Richard answered. I can take it. And you’d better enjoy yourself while you can, because in four days, I’ll be walking away from here.
- If you do, that’ll be with a very sore bottom, Omar grinned.
He walked to the cupboard where he kept his “toys” and took out a nasty-looking cane. Husseyn winced. Omar had only used it on him once, when he had been very angry at him for some reason. After three hits of the cane, Husseyn would have done absolutely anything to stop the stinging pain.
Omar had seen the glint of recognition in Husseyn’s eyes :
- Ah, I see that you remember that cane, chibani. Oh, but excuse me, Richard, I haven’t introduced the two of you. Chibani, or Husseyn, as he used to be called, is my slave. He was sold to me by his son.
- By his son? Richard gasped. That’s awful!
Richard looked at Husseyn for the first time. Husseyn was taken aback. He couldn’t be sure what the westerner was feeling at the moment but he was pretty sure it was pity – and he couldn’t stand it. Husseyn didn’t want anybody to feel sorry for him.
But that look in Richard’s eyes didn’t last long. Omar had started hitting him with the cane. Richard gasped, moaned in pain. Omar was clearly enjoying himself. You could see the bulge in his shorts getting bigger.
- My dear, dear Richard, Omar said while still caning Richard’s exposed buttock, why do you make it so difficult for yourself? I am not a cruel man, really… Well, not so cruel that I can watch an older man suffering and do nothing to alleviate his pain…
Husseyn chuckled silently. He knew very well how Omar would alleviate the pain that he inflicted on him on an almost daily basis. He would fuck his sore bottom until his asshole was even more sore than his buttocks.
- And why bother, Omar went on, going through all this torment for four days when you well know that even if you manage not to say the word now, you’ll be in debt again in a few weeks? And you’ll have to go through the whole ordeal all over again… And again… You’ve lost your touch, old man! You might as well admit it and say the word now.
(To be continued)
Thursday, 21 July 2016
Colonel Strong was retired. He was retired, dammit! He was no longer a high-ranking officer in the American army, so he should have been safe traveling abroad. So why had those two men broken into his hotel room at night and tied him up?
It was only when the two men started taking their clothes off that he realized this had nothing to do with him being a retired army colonel and everything with him being a hot white-haired and white-bearded grandad. They were going to have him and use him for their pleasure!