As with part one this is a work of fictional fantasy only, and is not meant to construe any illegal activities only. If you do not wish to read a fantasy story featuring BDSM in a non-consensual setting, then read no further. However, I welcome your feedback if you like this storyline, and look forward to hearing your ideas suggestions feedback.
The boy slowly awoke to his surroundings, and the realization that he was not dreaming dawned on him as he became aware of the heavy steel manacles on his legs and arms. These were keeping him upright in a spread-eagle position, in the center of a stone room. With a shock he realized he was naked, and soon he became aware of a dim light emanating from a fireplace burning at the far end of the room (or was this a cellar?). He began pulling at his bondings, struggling to get his arms and legs free from the unyielding chains.
"Help!!" he yelled, his voice tinged with undisguised fear.
"HELLPPP!! Somebody! Please help me! Somebody..."
Kyle voice trailed off and he began to cry, the tears running down his beautiful face, streaking his chest, and with his head hanging down he quivered in fear.
From a dark recess the man quietly watched this scenario unfold, savoring the building alarm and fear in his new slave. He resolved to make this boy suffer for being a beautiful, lean muscled teen, the body that only yesterday Kyle had flaunted arrogantly in the park. He would torture the boy, and savor the sound of his cries echoing off the walls of his dungeon. He would greatly enjoy tormenting this boy; watching him struggle and beg for mercy.
No, there would be no escape for Kyle. Instead of kindness the young man would taste the fury of the Mans whips. When he would beg for rest he would instead feel the alligator clamps tightened on his sensitive, half-dollar sized nipples. Where conceited teenage _c_o_c_k_iness once ruled, he would now learn his place as a _s_e_x_ual vassal for his new Masters fantasies.
But first things were first. The boy started as he heard a strange sound emerge from behind him, but his curiosity was quickly replaced with searing pain as the man cracked the whip against his tight muscular ass. The teenager immediately screamed and tried to pull up into his chains, having only one thought now: to escape the source of this pain. The man stood for a minute, admiring the effect he had on the boys body. He approved of the way the teenager had flexed his shoulders, back, and arms; the concerted, sharp definition of pain and fear.
The boy relaxed back down to the floor and the man whipped him again on the ass, and again the boy screamed and pulled up, his toes barely scraping the floor. Again and again the cycle continued, for over an hour the man made Kyle dance.
The man paused, then increased the tempo of his punishment. He whipped Kyles back, lashed the inside of his legs, and flogged the boys calves. The stripes were laid down on the boys body at random places but with devastatingly expert precision. The boy could only scream and writhe in his chains.
Finally, the man inquired, "Do you wish to have mercy?"
"Please, please Ill do anything.... just stop please" cried the boy in a whimper.
"DO YOU WISH TO HAVE MERCY?!?" yelled the man, clearly angry.
"YES, OH PLEASE GOD STOP! PLEASE DONT WHIP ME ANYMORE!", screamed Kyle, fully crying now.
Without hesitation the man picked up an implement and began strapping Kyle across his back.
"I ...(lash)... WILL NOT ....(lash).... GIVE YOU ....(lash).... MERCY," yelled the man. "You are to be my SLAVE .... (lash).... you are here to be TORTURED ....(lash)... I will ENJOY torturing you....(lash).... for a VERY (lash).... LONG ....(lash).... TIME. ....(lash)...."
With each lashing the boy shrieked, his voice going hoarse, his beauty enhanced by the scene of both his pain and the sweat glistening on his body in the dim firelight. The man paused and took a seat off to one side to observe... Kyle stretched his neck but could only see shadows.
From somewhere Kyle summoned a spark of defiance as he uttered through gritted teeth, "But, why?!? What did I ever do to you?"
"You have done nothing." replied the Man, amused. "I merely desire a lean, muscular young teenager, one such as yourself, you see, to be my permanent torture slave. You are a beautiful boy, and it brings me great satisfaction to make you suffer. Know now that there will be nothing you can do to alleviate your punishments, though I will quite enjoy hearing you scream in agony, of hearing you beg for mercy."
The man picked up a leather quirt with a perforated leather paddle on one end, and a loop around the other. Placing the loop around his wrist he moved to the front of poor Kyle and for the first time the boy was able to gaze upon his tormentor, and his mouth fell aghast.
Perhaps it was the brutality of his induction, but where the boy was expecting to see a monster he was instead greeted with the sight of a rather unremarkable, bespectacled older man dressed in a tweed jacket, very much the stereotypical image of a college professor. A face one would never notice should one happen to pass him on the street, in the mall, or in a theater; let alone recall with any specific detail. Kyle was shocked that such an ordinary person could be capable of inflicting so much pain.
"Now Kyle, it is time I began to work on your nipples," said the man, and with an evil grin breaking the illusion of his kindly visage, struck the boy across the right nipple with the long leather rod.