The One-Way Voyage (Day One)

After a few minutes, Master stirred and uttered a breathless "Wow!" He lifted himself off me and delivered his verdict. "That was amazing. Cute as fuck and a nice, tight ass." He emphasized his approval with an enthusiastic slap on my ass that made me yelp. "I am going to enjoy our time together."

Master went back to the drawers and took out a big glass butt plug. As he slathered it with lube, he asked, "You know what this is?"

"Yes," I said weakly, guessing what was to come.

Master approached. "I didn't figure you for a virgin. But that ass of yours is way too tight." I felt the plug shoved inside me. It was way wider than anything my ass had ever taken before. My jaw fell, and I howled my pain as the widest part slid through my sphincter, which then clenched upon the stem of the handle behind it.

"All right, then." Master slapped my ass again. I jerked from the pain. "You hungry?"

"Yes." I was starving.

"I'll be right back."

Master was gone for maybe fifteen minutes. He returned with a large bottle filled with a milky liquid and capped with a dildo. "Here suck this." He stuck the dildo into my face. I kept my mouth closed. After a couple of failed attempts to stick the dildo in my mouth, he slapped my ass. As I began to cry out, he shoved it inside, muffling me. "This is a nutritional formula. It's got everything you need. Suck on it."

I hesitated, but when I sucked, the milky liquid flowed into my mouth and down my throat. My stomach growled in anticipation. Well, a guy has to eat, right? I sucked harder.

In a few minutes, the bottle was empty. Master crouched before me, his face close to mine, and kissed me once again. This time he stuck his tongue into my mouth. It took its sweet time exploring every cranny.

Master grinned. "You look so cute, lying there." Master circled out of view, and returned a moment later, dressed again. He was holding a black leather gag that incorporated a leather dildo. "Now, I'm going to need you to be quiet for a while."

Master stuck the leather dildo through my lips. By this point, I knew better than to fight it. The dildo slid inside. Then Master buckled the straps behind my head.

The dildo was so long it reached almost to the back of my throat, forcing my jaws open wide and filling my mouth. I wasn't able to make a sound; I couldn't even breathe, except through my nose.

"That should do the job." Master looked me over, hesitated for a moment, then ran his thumb along my cheek and added, "So cute." He pulled the hood over my head.

I heard him circle behind me. He began tickling my dick. It responded. "You've been whipped so hard you've got stripes on your back, then you were jerked, spanked, and fucked, and this little guy is ready for more. You're loving every minute of this, aren't you? That's because you're a born slave. I'll be back in a few hours. You sit tight and relax," he added, laughing at his joke. I heard him close the door as he left.

Okay, I told myself. Think. How are you going to get out of this?

This guy was insane. No arguing that. I was helpless and he knew exactly how to keep me that way: bound, confused, off balance, and delirious, first with pain, then with pleasure, so that I hardly had a chance to get away or fight back or even think straight.

The way he touched my dick...it was like nothing I'd felt before. And the way he fucked me. How was he so good at this?

Once I'd formed the question in my mind, the answer became obvious: Experience.

A chill went through me. You aren't the first guy he's done this to.

So what happened to the others? Where are they?

I think you already know the answer to that one.

There was no way he'd let anyone loose, not after doing all this to them. They would go straight to the police. That meant I was dealing with a seriously dangerous guy. A Jeffrey Dahmer crazed rapist-torturer-serial-killer level of dangerous.

Hadn't anyone in San Francisco picked up on a pattern of young men going missing? On the other hand, Dahmer had killed—how many?—before anyone noticed. More than a dozen, I thought.

I felt sick in the pit of my stomach as I realized only one person in the world even knew I was in San Francisco: Matt. And I had just told Matt I was leaving town and he should go fuck himself.

Well, I didn't, but Matt thought I did.

This guy could slit your throat, dump you in a landfill, and no one would ever know.

People would notice I was missing, but they wouldn't know where to begin looking for me. If I wanted to survive this, I'll have to figure it out on my own.

I pictured myself running through the streets of San Francisco in the middle of the day, naked, shouting, "Help! Help! There's a madman after me!"

That was exactly why the guy had taken my clothes: to make it harder to escape.

I promised myself that if the opportunity came, I'd take it. I wouldn't hesitate for lack of clothes. I'd run naked into a crowded street, a club, a movie theater, whatever, and scream and shout and do everything I could to attract attention.

Well, you will certainly attract attention.

But how would I get free? My captor was bigger and stronger than I was, he kept me bound and naked, and had a cattle prod handy. Even so, had my head been clearer, had I been less surprised and confused, I might have found a way to break loose and make a run for it.

I promised myself I'd make try it at first opportunity. But what if I failed? The guy had given me twenty-four lashes because I took a swing at him. What would he do to me if I tried to escape and didn't make it?

I would have to be careful, that's all. My first attempt would have to succeed, because there wouldn't be a second one.

That meant I'd have to plan carefully. And that meant I'd have to learn as much as possible: about this guy, his habits, his techniques for controlling me, and something about this place where he was keeping me.

Better to play along for a while. Let him have his way, while you observe and think.

That sounded like a good idea, but a part of me wasn't so sure. Was I being shrewd, or cowardly? The truth was, when Master was standing over me with a cattle prod, poking it into my bare flesh, grabbing my dick, barking orders...it was the easiest thing in the world to ride it out, like he said; just do as I was told and accept whatever came. Same with the fucking.

And Master knew it. You've been whipped so hard you've got stripes on your chest, jerked, spanked, and fucked, and this little guy is ready for more, he had said.

It was true, sort of, and I hated myself for it. Even now, the pain in my back, the fire burning my ass, the feel of the heavy plug inside me—all these sensations somehow flowed into my dick and made it tingle.

What kind of dude likes being whipped and spanked? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to will my dick to calm down.

It didn't work. Focusing on my dick only brought to mind the feel of those skilled fingers as they stroked me, the gentle touch on my balls, and the sweet glow of orgasm when I shot my load. Master knew just how to handle me.

Wait, did I want more of this?

I shoved that thought aside. That's what he wants you to think! He's messing with your head!

I needed to get out of here. I didn't want to stay one more minute, or obey one more order. I wanted to spit in the guy's face, kick him in the balls, or whatever, but fight back...somehow. What kind of pussy takes this sort of treatment and doesn't fight back?

Only, if I fought back, I'd get at least the whip. More likely something worse. Fighting him was not the answer. Better to play along.

Pussy! I scolded myself.

The debate circled endlessly through my mind until I nodded off. Pain and terror and humiliation were exhausting.

#

I awoke some time later—a few hours?—still lying on that bench, gagged. A little experimentation verified that my wrists and knees were locked tight. I waited for a long time, wishing Master would come back, but when at last I heard the door open, I felt sick in my stomach.

He walked over and patted me on the ass. It still stung.

"Sorry that took so long. Traffic jam in the Golden Gate. Can you believe it? I'm beat. Time for both of us to call it a day. I bet you're hungry." He removed the hood and the gag. A moment later, the dildo was in my mouth and I sucked hungrily at another batch of whatever he was feeding me. When I finished, he pulled the plug out of my ass, which was just as unpleasant as when he stuck it in. He released my wrists from the bench one at a time, but then padlocked each of them to metal rings on either side of the belt around my waist. Then he shackled my ankle cuffs together with about a foot and a half of chain before releasing my knees.

He helped me to my feet. My hands were fastened at my hips, making them useless, and the shackles only allowed baby steps. He led me back to the room where I had awoken that morning. I walked unsteadily, the floor rising and falling under my bare feet. He guided me into the small bathroom, where he gently held my dick as I pissed into the toilet, then laid me onto the sleeping mat and kissed me goodnight.

* * *