Release from Hell
The lights were turned on, blinding Jay for a few seconds after hours in darkness. He painfully turned his head and saw Roy and Charlie, still in black jock straps, enter the room. Roy bent down and unlocked the cage door padlock with a big key. Charlie opened the door and then the two of them began the painful task of getting Jay back out of the tight cage. They pulled his feet out, straightening his legs, and then continued pulling him by the ankles until he slid across the metal cage bottom onto the cement floor. He yelled when his pec pins scraped across the cement. He was still gagged with the cord and his mouth hurt like hell.
“Boss says to get you cleaned up. You’re getting out of here now, but the pins and ass plug stay in,” Charlie told him as they helped Jay to his feet. He had trouble standing after his leg muscles had cramped in the cage. They manacled his hands behind his back, but did undo the cord gag. He couldn’t speak; his lips and tongue were still numb from the cord. Then they led him out of the cage room.
The next stop was a small tiled room near the torture dungeon. He was hosed down with a cold water stream which stung his skin, especially his chest and stomach. It was murder on his junk. Then it was upstairs. There he was uncuffed, but Roy and Charlie were quite capable of subduing him if he tried any tricks. There was no sign of Tom.
Roy showed him where his clothes lie in a heap. Something looked strange. His jeans were draped over his boots, but they looked different, smaller. When he picked them up he saw why: the legs had been cut off turning them into short shorts. As he put them on he saw there was a four inch slit along the ass seam. Then, as he pulled them up, there was no waist band. It had been cut off, button and button hole, too. The jeans had a low rise to begin with, but this made them ride even lower on his hips. Then yet another surprise: the two metal zipper tracks had been crimped midway with pliers. When he pulled the zipper up it jammed half way up, leaving a gaping V above it. His pube thatch tufted out the V. It was incredibly sexy, but a really weird feeling.
“No shirt,” Roy said. Roy and Charlie donned their own abbreviated jeans shorts, which had been tailored, if that’s the right word, just like his. Unlike Jay, however, the V-neck of the shorts showed bare skin; their crotches had been completely shaved.
Roy noticed the perplexed look on Jay’s face. “Boss likes his men to dress like this when we’re home. We’re taking you home right now. Boss says you can take the pins and the butt plug out when you get there. Keep them as souvenirs,” Charlie laughed.
Jay said nothing. He was reacting like a robot, maybe slightly happy to be released but still dazed from the ordeal. He followed the men outside to Tom’s truck, noticing their hairy ass cracks through the slits in their shorts. The three big men squeezed into the front seat with Jay in the middle. It was uncomfortable sitting on the seat with the big ass plug still in. He could feel their sweaty skin hot against his. It was especially uncomfortable when Roy stretched out his arm and draped it across Jay’s shoulders. Another sweltering day in Texas. The fuckers didn’t even turn the A/C on.
They drove down the dirt road to the perimeter of the ranch. Roy got out and unlocked the gate for the truck to go through. Then they drove him back to Austin, stopping outside his apartment on Cleveland Avenue. He got out of the truck without saying a word. He passed a few people on his way to his flat. They gave him raised eyebrows and quizzical looks at his skimpy clothing. He fumbled for his keys in a side pocket. They hadn’t cut the pockets and they hung down from inside the abbreviated legs. They looked a bit absurd.
Once inside, he checked his back shorts pockets. His phone and wallet were still there. He was certain no money had been taken. They didn’t want money. They wanted – and got – suffering and torture.
The next thing he did was to go to the bathroom to get the big rubber butt plug out of his gut. He grunted as he pulled it out. The sensations from his asshole again activated that strange mixture of humiliation and pleasure, a tingle in his dick. He missed the sensation of fullness he had been feeling during his cage confinement. He had felt that same combination of humiliation and pleasure when he horsed around with the guys in the showers after wrestling. None of that meant anything, of course; just guys messin’ around. Then again, it wasn’t all that unpleasant.
He dreaded the next step, the removal of the pec pins. In front of the bathroom mirror, he steeled himself as he pulled each of the four pins out. His face contorted in a grimace of pain. There was no further bleeding, which surprised him. He was going to throw the damned things away, but something deep inside him said to keep them. He suddenly had the crazy idea that he might use them on himself again, not soon, but sometime in the future. Even the thought of doing that made his cock start to rock up and bulge against the tight jeans crotch. He rubbed his bruised nipples, renewing a shadow of the pain he had endured. His cock got even harder and a wave of weird sexual lust washed over him. He had never heard of the term pain pig.
He took a long piss, which splashed a bit exiting his hardon. He stripped down and got totally wasted on Jack Daniels, emptying the bottle. He slept for a whole day, waking up with a monster hangover. He called into work sick, threw up back in the bathroom, but then he started to feel better, physically and emotionally. He also hadn’t heard of the term catharsis, deliverance through incredible pain. All he knew was that he wanted, needed more pain and abuse, his cock wanted more, his ass wanted more, even his nipples tingled for more.
Later that day he felt compelled to call Tom. It was a short conversation. Jay said: “We need to talk.”
Tom answered: “Good. I was hoping for this. Larry’s, tonight, nine o’clock. You will wear your new shorts and heavy boots only, no shirt. You will reinsert the pec pins and plug. I expect you to be on time.”
Jay responded: “Yes . . .boss,” fully aware that by that single word he was submitting himself to the new role of submissive, slave, bottom-meat-thing, whatever.
Tom ended the call. Jay fretted and sweated into the evening, amazed but also afraid of what he had set in motion. He managed to put the pec pins back in, which hurt like hell, and gingerly inserted the very large dildo up his ass, which gave him a hardon. Bare-chested with ridiculously revealing shorts, Jay got some very strange looks as he walked from his flat across the parking lot to his truck. Siting on the driver’s seat pushed the ass plug in more; he grimaced from the pain. Somehow he made the drive cross town to Larry’s and cemented the new relationship with several rounds of shots and beers. Before they left the bar, Tom made Jay kneel down while he locked on Jay’s new leather slave collar. The bar patrons cheered at the spectacle and its profound meaning.
A week later Jay moved in with Tom and his two mates. Jay got everything he ever wanted. He screamed so much his voice changed timbre. They gut punched him to the point where his ab and pec hair started to get mangey. Easy solution: Tom shaved him neck to nuts. The vivid red punch marks stood our better that way. Yes, indeed, Jay got everything he ever wanted.