EARNING THEIR WAY OUT OF MALE CHASTITY
FINAL BONDAGE TAG-TEAM — PART 2 OF 6
© 2022 Zatanna Dark
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
Start with Part 1 ⬇️ HERE ⬇️
DETAILS . . .
“So that was quick. Seems your odds of Winning this competition just got better. You all now have a 1 in 8 chance of being the Last Man Kneeling. Which so you’re aware, is the name of the show you’re currently on.”
Had I not witnessed firsthand what’s happened so far, Last Man Kneeling wouldn’t have made much sense to me. Knowing the Final Goal now and knowing my feelings of them being superior to me is real; my odds of winning may be even better.
“Too many other Reality shows are all Fucking Sucking and Orgasms.” Mistress Z continues, “That will not be the case with My Show.” Number 6 whispers in 7’s direction, “Like there’s any way they’re gonna stop that from happening on this Show.”
Mistress Z adds, “For you to continue on, you must first agree to voluntary Male Chastity . . . for the duration of the competition.” Six adds to his whispers with, “Ok, maybe I’m wrong.”
“As a last reminder to all of you, I want you to understand what happens when you speak out of turn or without permission. Number 6 . . . Move to the Red X.” Just now realizing who she was addressing, six said, “What?”
Mistress Z turns to Dusk and says, “Add five for not listening.” Two of the Quads move to each side of him and open their arms outward to guide him in the direction of a large Red X at the front of the Set.
Not actually touching or pushing him. Moving to the X was his own doing. Once there, Dusk moves in as a cable with heavy leather cuffs connected to it descends from the ceiling.
“Hey, wait a second! . . . I’m sorry, Mistress Z! . . . This isn’t needed.” Dusk says in her raspy voice, “You can leave if you want 6. But I would really enjoy tasting your flesh with my cane if you decide to stay.”
He was so ready to leave. I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Then with a simple few words, Dusk got him to remove his shirt and present his wrists for cuffing. Maybe he didn’t even hear the words Dusk was saying? Just that she was talking to him.
As the cable extended his now helpless arms upwards, we all were expecting to watch him get his back caned. It turns out that everyone was wrong with this prediction.
With his arms at their limits and 6 grunting and groaning as he tries to find any comfort in what’s about to happen. Dusk does a nod to the Quads and they proceed to finish his prep!
A large horse style bit is forced between his teeth and buckled behind his head as confusion starts to grow on his face. His pants and boxers being completely removed surprised us all.
Along with the size and hardness of the erection, he could no longer hide. Two more straps are added to his ankles as two Quads kneel and pull his legs further apart.
The metal rings flip up from the floor, allowing each ankle to be secured to them with short cables with loops on each end. His look of confusion is replaced with fear as a third Quad shows up with her arms held outward and her palms facing up and holding the canes.
The cable from the ceiling retracted further until his feet left the floor, and the ankle cables were pulled tight and suspended, helpless and naked. He would no longer be able to ignore what he’d agreed to when his wrists were offered.
With a half dozen or more canes of different thicknesses and length being offered to Dusk for her choosing . . . a Smile! Haven’t seen this before on Dusk . . . a Smile appears for all to see!
As she slowly glides her index finger along the length of each and every cane . . . sweat from 6’s struggle and fear is causing a glistening effect on his skin. His feet pointing and straining as if he’d somehow find a way to reach the floor.
After several moments of making all of us sweat . . . Dusk finally picks up the cane . . . the one we all knew she had decided on long before they were ever even brought onto the Set. No one was surprised by it being the longest, firmest and thinnest of the collection.
Seems he’s changing his mind now as his eyes widen more and he tries to talk his way free around the large bit gag. He looks towards us for help as several of the Guys just shake their heads. They have learned to stay out of Dusk’s way.
He’s now shaking his wrists and the cable, and we can hear its sound echoing from the ceiling. Number 6 knows his only chance is with Mistress Z now . . .
Looking to her for forgiveness as he mumbles, “MMMMFFF MMFFHG MMFFF MM MMMM MMMRREE!” Mistress replies simply with, “Permission Asked. Permission Given. Permission Taken.”
Dusk standing ready . . . eyes on Mistress Z . . . waiting for the nod. Mistress Z says, “50 for talking plus 5 for not listening, Dusk.” And gives her the nod . . .
Dawn, all sweet, says, “Since the poor Boy’s all gagged . . . who wants to keep count for him?” Cheerleader in a past life? Not sure? Number 9 asks, “Mistress, may I?” Dawn asks, “Who are you asking?”
9 Quickly recovers with, “I’m sorry, Mistress Dawn. May I keep count, Mistress Dawn?” Dawn gives her nod as we all hear the whoosh of the cane as it moves towards 6’s ass as he’s struggling to avoid it! {SMACK!} “MMMMMMMFFFF!!!”
“ONE!” Calls out Number 9. There was no warm-up! The first hit was as hard as the last, if not even harder! {whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMFGGG!” “SEVENTEEN!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMMFGRR!” “EIGHTEEN!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMFHHF!” “NINETEEN!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMFFFFF!” “TWENTY!”
Tears flowing from his eyes as he’s now just leaving his head tipped back and every muscle in his body pulled as tight as possible!
His body is glistening more than before . . . this time with tinges of blood mixed into his sweat!
Amazingly, his cock has maintained its size as it bounces with each stinging kiss of her cane. I was about to mention that I think he likes it, but I kept my mouth shut and shut tightly.
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMFGGG!” “THIRTY SIX!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMMMMM!” “THIRTY SEVEN!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMHHGG!” “THIRTY EIGHT!”
Dawn gives Nine her approval as he continues his count. Am so glad he offered to count, because there’s no way I could have kept track while my eyes were taking in everything else . . .
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMMMM!” “FORTY ONE!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMMM!” “FORTY TWO!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMH!” “FORTY THREE!”
His gagged screams of pain are shortening. Not because it’s hurting any less. He’s completely out of air and energy, as he’s barely even flinching with the last few hits.
Dusk switching to the fronts and backs of his thighs has brought back more activity to his struggles! Just as cane strike number fifty was called out, Mistress Z held up their hand, and Dusk immediately stopped.
Not sure how that happened, because I’d swear Dusk wasn’t even looking in Mistress Z’s direction. Mistress Z stood up, put her crop onto the couch and walked over to what was left of Number 6.
Words were not spoken, and commands were not given. The silent agreement commenced as Dusk presented her cane, now dripping in sweat and blood, to Mistress Z’s open hand.
There was no long and loud whoosh to warn him! Mistress Z went with a short, fast, and hard flick across the top of his still-hard cock! I, like all the other Guys, flinched in solidarity with his pain!
Another flick from below followed by an even longer gagged holler of pain! The last three flicks were even faster and all from below . . . except not below his shaft!
The last three all targeted his balls as his longest holler yet was followed by a slumped and sobbing husk of a man. At least it’s finally over as I hear nine quietly say, “Oh, no.”
Mistress Z tosses the cock and ball-busting cane back to Dusk and says, “I didn’t hear any counting . . . so you still have five to go.” Number 9 knew his mistake just added to 6’s punishment and quietly leaked out, “I’m sorry, dude.”
Dusk, not wanting to break his ass, thigh, or back skin any more than she already did . . . goes with the final five hits to his chest and stomach.
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMMM!” “FIFTY THREE!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMMM!” “FIFTY FOUR!”
{whoosh} {SMACK!} “MMM!” “FIFTY FIVE!”
Breaking the tension in the room . . . almost cheer like, Dawn says, “So who’s all ready to be put in Chastity? . . . Just follow me!” Did she skip? Was she skipping off the Set?
ASSEMBLY LINE . . .
The eight of us followed the sexy little Skipster as she brought us into a room with twelve of those tables doctors use to examine Women’s private areas. I’m sorry, yes, it was Mistress Dawn. But I didn’t say Skipster out loud . . . and she was just so damn cute!
Each little hope or skip caused her already overly short, ruffled skirt to pop up. Each pop gives us a full view of her tight leather-thonged ass. I could hear a collection of gulps from the Guys. But wisely enough . . . not a single catcall . . .
Facing outward on each table were the numbers 1–12. That answered my question about whether they were actually prepared and wanted twelve Guys or if they planned to eliminate a third of us so early on.
We all stripped off our pants, boxers, or briefs and took our spots without being told. Number 6 had to be helped in, still naked, still bleeding, with his arms over the shoulders and necks of two of the Quads.
I would really like to learn their actual names. I am guessing even if I did, I couldn’t keep track of who was who or who was who? They do not have numbers like us so that it would be very tough.
Just before leaning back, I notice nobody is at spot number two? Is he at the wrong table? A quick double check says no? Did Dusk Taser and crate another one? No idea? . . . and then there were seven.
Once on my back, one of the Quads comes over to me, smiles, and then proceeds to strap my wrists at my sides tightly. They’re like those medical thick cloth or canvas ones and are only kept closed using Velcro.
It must just be for looks because there’s no way . . . shit! I can’t get my hands loose! While I was testing my wrists, she’d already got my legs into the holsters. Straps at my knees and ankles held them also just as firm. I’m in position, knees up, legs spread, my manhood completely exposed and easily accessible.
One last strap was added snuggly across my neck, refused anymore, leaning up to look around without being choked by it. I really didn’t need to see to know what the others were experiencing, as every table was the same.
Once we were all pants less and boxer or brief less, we were graced with the honor of Mistress Z and Clipboard Girl, as they sized each of us up. They must have entered the opposite end, because they started with Number 10.
“10 . . . Medium.” Said Mistress Z. I listened as each step of steel-tipped stilettos connected with the tile floor. “9 . . . Medium.” After each sizing, the room was so silent that you could hear Clipboard Girl’s pen jotting down each size.
Each of us Guys is very different. 9 the Teacher’s Pet. 7 Lucky, cause of his number. I haven’t heard too much from him. 6 The Big Talker. 4 the Jokester. 2. A Mystery to be solved? He’s just gone. And Number 1, the Self Entitled Ass.
10 has been completely silent even before Clipboard Girl showed up, so I got nothing. The other four who weren’t worthy of these Goddesses . . . also not worthy of me Nick-Naming or even describing them.
As for me, I’m a Feminist Horse Farmer from Texas who respects Woman and believe 100% in their Power. Like I said, we’re all very different not only in our looks, but our personalities, attitudes and more.
The sizing continues, “7 . . . ahh . . . Still Medium.” I’d have to think each and every Guy right now has to be as large and hard as I am. So how she’s choosing sizes I’m guessing must be more along the line of what we deserve? Maybe?
“6 Small.” No hesitation at all. Seems that Number 6’s punishment for speaking out of turn and not listening continues. This time he didn’t respond at all. Not even a grunt or groan. Looks like he can be taught.
“4 Extra Large!” She says with an impressed voice. Number 4 replies, “Mistress Z . . . really? Thank You! Did you hear that, Guys? The Mistress just sized me as Extra Large!”
With perfect comedic timing, the second she had everyone’s full attention, Mistress Z replied, “No, not really . . . are you even kidding me with that little thing? How do you even hold onto it when it’s time to piss?”
“4 Small.” Couldn’t hear Clipboard Girl writing down this size because of the random laughs and coughs the Guys couldn’t hold back. Oh My God! The voice, the look, the mind, body and power of Mistress Z! All of that plus a sense of humor . . . am I allowed to respect, worship, love and adore?
“3 . . . Medium” No standing out for me in this lineup. I’ll take a Medium any day over a Small. Either way, I’d accept whatever size and or punishment she wishes me to endure . . . but I’m happy I’m not a target of her painful whims for this part of the game.
“1 Small.” Mr. Self-Entitled Ass wasn’t expecting or accepting his size and mistakenly let her and everyone else know. “You meant to say Large . . . You, with the glasses . . . be sure to write down Large.”
Mistress Z, very calmly, but still in her voice of power, “Kristen, Number 1 here is right. I think a small is a mistake.” Kristen, Clipboard Girl’s name is Kristen.
That works because, somehow, she looks like Kristen. Never understood someone looking like a name, but sometimes, like this time, it works.
Number 1 made one of those noises . . . it’s not really a word that’s in any dictionary . . . not even the Urban dictionary. But everyone knows what it meant. His was that noise of Point Proven, I was right, and you were Wrong.
Mistress Z, catches the smug one off guard with, “I meant to choose either Extra Small or a Medium with internal spikes? Just not sure which would be best for him?” 1 changes his tune quickly . . . just not quick enough.
“Mistress Z . . . and ah, Mistress Kristen . . . I’m sorry! Small is fine! I’ll take a Small. You were right . . . I have a small dick.” Often, I think the wisest choice is to shut the fuck up. He is helping to prove my theory.
Mistress Z replies, “Number 1, listen carefully. Kristen is not a Mistress, she is my Servant. Had see earned the title of Mistress, I would have addressed her as such. As my Servant and a Women, she is still above and far Superior to you in every way.”
Continuing, “As far as you now telling us what you’re agreeing to take means nothing to us. It’s not your choice what your useless tiny tool is about to be crammed into and if it’s ever to have freedom again.”
Back to the pin-dropping silence of earlier. “In this case, Number 1, I am granting the decision of your cock’s prison to Kristen. Would you like to see that thing, this waste of human flesh compressed into an Extra Small or given a little room in a spiked Medium?”
“Mistress Z, it would make me happy to give Number 1 some growing room. They never end up bleeding unless they can’t control their hard-ons . . . and Number 1 is just the pure image of self-control.”
Guess Kristen has her own hidden sense of humor, just like Mistress Z. Even with such humor being shared in the room, there’s still around half the audience who’s not laughing . . .
RELAX . . .
Before Mistress Z and Clipboard Gi . . . I mean, Kristen left, and they explained the “Chastation” process. Don’t believe that is a word, or if it is, that it means what they mean. But I won’t argue it.
“In thirty minutes, Dusk and Dawn will be putting you each into chastity. The cages will be locked on until, if and when I feel you’ve earned its removal. By it, I do mean the cages and not your cocks . . . unless you really continue to piss me off or disrespect my Girls.”
Nobody laughed. “For any of you who can relax enough to allow your erections to lapse, this process will be way less painful. We need your cocks small so we don’t break or crush them in the process of applying your cages.”
Avoiding a broken or crushed dick is a pretty good reason to try and relax . . . while at the same time, the fear of a broken or crushed dick is not helping anyone to relax!
“For any of you can’t control yourselves, Dusk has offered to take care of your aspirations for you. She mentioned being out of practice and sometimes misses with the needles or has issues with the syringes.”
Almost out the door, Mistress Z adds, “By the way, in case any of you are changing your mind or considering backing out of this process . . . It’s too late. Permission has been Asked. Permission has been Given. And Permission is being Taken.”
With nobody in the room, but us seven Guys. Several did start to chat up and try to discuss every non-sexual thing they could in an effort to relax their erections.
“How bout them Packers?” “Breakfast was pretty bland.” “Any of you trying out that Bitcoin stuff?” The problem is . . . with seven Guys, the conversation kept going exactly as expected . . .
“Man! Did you see that Ass?.. Every little step and her skirt popped up even more!” I am unable to see, not even sure who is saying what. I try to break it up with, “Hey, Number 6? How you doin’?”
“Still in massive pain and pretty sure I’m still bleeding. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll stay out of the rest of everyone’s disrespectful conversations about this Woman.” The Guys pretty much ignore Number 6’s answer to my question.
“Who do you think has the largest breasts? Cause I think it’s that chick with the clipboard.” “I’ll say one thing for her . . . she’s welcome to use her clipboard on me any day! I’m available tonight . . . ready and willing.”
I can’t believe these fuckers won’t shut up! Every time they mention anything about any of these women, it only keeps making me picture them! “Guys! Enough! Did none of you hear Mistress Z explaining Mistress Dusk needing to aspirate your cocks?”
“Dusk can aspire to suck my cock any time!” “Good One!” Holy Shit! We’re all getting needles in our Dicks in less than thirty minutes. I’m closing my eyes and imagining the most relaxing ride . . . just me and my horse. . alone and carefree. . . the air warming as the sun rises . . .
Still learning the voices. Think it’s Number 7 asking, “Hey, did the rest of you notice that Number 2 is missing? I wonder if he’s ok?” Number 1, I think? Responds with, “Don’t care . . . just means I’m one closer to winning this thing.”
Continued ⬇️ HERE ⬇️
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