Kid Cody

The kid was good. Very good. Haydon Cody had been 16 and Ty Johns 30 when they met. Three years had passed since then, three years dedicated to punishment of a very masculine kind. Kickboxing had been their life. It was all they lived for. That, and maybe each other

Ty had graduated as a civil engineer. He had become a partner in an increasingly successful business. He had acquired a large house out of town, and set to work adding a gym and indoor pool. The boiler room was beneath the pool in a large basement. Modern boilers and pool pumps took up little room. The boiler room was a large empty space. Except that, disguised as steel supportwork for the pool above, there were three X-frames, one in the centre of the room and two on either side. A rough area behind the boilers also contained a wooden whipping post, over near the main hotpipe to the house

Kid Cody had now become a state and regional contender, and spent several days a week at Ty’s house. He had his own room, but often ended up sparring and training in Ty’s room. He’d shower in there, then flop onto the large circular bed and fall asleep. His favoured sleeping position was face down on the deep red sheets, his legs wide and his strong young arms thrown up at head level. Coming into the room and finding him like that, Ty would look at his back, arms and buttocks, square his legs, and aim an invisible whip at that beautiful young back. One day maybe

One day, one night. It had been the culmination of all their work, hopes and dreams. The Kid had taken the state title at that weight. It had been a hard-fought victory over his main rival in the game, but that night, back at Ty’s, both were silent. They both knew that it had been a little too close. The Kid had won, but not by enough to do himself proud

It was late, and Ty broke the silence. `You should have crushed him`
`I know Coach` Usually they were Kid and Coach when they were alone together

`Broken him. Smashed him. Destroyed him`

The Kid dropped his head. He then looked up at Ty, and said `What you gonna do Coach?`
`I should whip your arse`
`I know Coach. I need it`

He looked at Ty very hard. Ty had remembered when the boiler room had first been completed: the Kid seemed to take a shine to the room, and often worked out in it. He would relax and gather his breath at one of the X-frames, holding on to the lintel above, breathing heavy, wearing only his favourite jockstrap, now too small and disgustingly frayed and worn out. He’d look at Ty, pull in his abdomen, widen his arms on the lintel beam and swing his body slowly back and forward. His look seemed to say it all: he, Kid Cody, was the rightful tenant for this X-frame

Ty decided the time had come. He said `Into the boiler room now. You might be state champion you little bastard, but there are some lessons you gonna learn`

The Kid said `I know Coach. I fucked up today. I’ll get into my jock`
Fifteen minutes later Ty was facing him in the boiler room. The Kid was roped up against the whipping post, face forward. He’d taken several crushing gut punches from Ty but they’d bounced off him. Ty then cut the jock away and stuffed it into his pocket. More gut punches. The Kid took it all. When he’d got his breath, he said `I’m ashamed I didn’t beat the crap out of that Stevens guy this afternoon Coach. I need a good leathering. Only you know how to knock me into shape Coach. Whip my arse Coach. I need it and you know it`

No problem: a few minutes later the Kid was chained up in the central X-frame, the one designed for him. Ty was naked but for his muddy site boots and yellow hard-hat. He was holding his whip. He laid it on the lad. Nothing. Again. Nothing. The boy was a pain junkie. He took it all

`You think you’re big Kid, but I’m gonna take you down a peg` Whack

`Yeah give it to me Coach` Whack `I let you down Coach` Whack `Make me pay Coach` Whack

`You’ve had this coming to you boy for a long time` Whack
`aahhh, make me sorry Coach` Whack ` hahhh .. you need to teach me a lesson Coach` Whack `hhhuhhh.. a hard lesson Coach` Whack `hhuhh you’re the only one who can do it Coach` Whack `awwwhhh you can do anything to me Coach` Whack `awwwww, a hard lesson Coach` Whack `awwwwwhhh, teach me Coach, teach me` Whack

Ty decided his boy had had enough at twenty-seven strokes
He unshackled his wrists and ankles, but the boy remained in the same spread-eagled position. He turned his head to the side, and over his shoulder breathed `What now Coach?`

`Up to my room`
Ty entered his bedroom a few minutes later. Haydon was lying in his characteristic sprawled fashion, face down on the sheets. He’d put on his black and gold state champion’s head-band. In the dim light from the shower-room Ty admired the boy, naked and whipped. The state’s top kickboxer, and Tyler Johns had stripped him and whipped him

Ty lay down beside him and whispered `You OK?` He dimly discerned a nod into the mattress. Haydon said `You know I’m all yours Coach` Ty sensed him spread his legs wider and push his pelvis further upward. He’d left his beautiful pale buttocks untouched. Ty reached over and pressed his palm strongly into the small of the boy’s back, pushing his flat belly deeper into the mattress. The boy gave out a sigh of pleasure. Ty then moved his hand in a caress over the lad’s buttock. `You sure are champ. All mine. To do what I like with. And you’ve got plenty more of that coming your way`

His hand slipped onto the boy’s muscular thigh. It had been a long day. Both men fell asleep

Blond Hero

Blond Hero knew he was in for it when he fell into this brave's mantrap.  The guy is expert with the knife, and he'll carve his name on hero's chest as a permanent memento.  That rare and highly-prized cheetah skin brief was an error.  That will be carefully removed, for brave's own wardrobe.  And hero's foreskin.  Painful, but not humiliating.  A sign in fact of admiration, from one man to another.  They'll look one another closely in the eye as that razor-sharp knife removes its trophy of manhood.  The brave's tribe circumcises boys at birth, so to own the foreskin of a big white warrior is a prize beyond price.  He'll make the guy his slave for a while, but the similarity in ideals, build, age and self-interest will assert itself.  The blond and his captor will become blood brothers, covering each other's back in battle and sharing their women.  But brave will always get first pick.  One false move and hero knows that his brother-in-arm's knife will claim his balls.  With speedy vengeance

The Dungeon

Tarzans Surrender

Tarzan knows the game is up.  His trials will now begin, and his adrenalin shoots.  He moves those big arms slightly wider, away from his dagger.  His sign of surrender.  A soft, male murmur rises up from the braves, and the one behind him goes right up behind Tarzan's back.  He feels the brave's hardening groin pressed against his arse crack, and holds his position of surrender.  The brave delicately lifts Tarzan's dagger out of its sheath.  He reaches it round to Tarzan's front and runs the tip down his abdomen, from his chest to his pubes, drawing a thin line of blood.  Tarzan slowly raises his arms and widens his stance.  He's theirs.  A deafening shout of triumph goes up from the troop as the brave behind him uses Tarzan's dagger to cut away his loin cloth.  The men quickly grab Tarzan's wrists and ankles and carry him off deep, deep into the jungle for punishing ordeals of pain, exhaustion and abuse.  He suffered the same fate from these men when he was 19.  He's ready for it again now

The Sword Room

Signs and symbols were crucial to ancient societies, and the guard's sword, held at the correct angle, told the other prisoners where this guy was heading.  To the Sword Room.  Deep in the darkness of the deepest levels of the dungeons was the emperor's sword chamber, scattered with oriental rugs and cushions and scented with resinous lamps and sconces.  Such luxury was of little comfort to the whipped bastard here, as he was spread out wide, face down in the damasks, and held by Nubian slaves as the emperor penetrated the man with his `sword`.  Unluckily for him this ruler came from the military, and was a man to be reckoned with.  He knew only too well how to punish a man with a devastating fuck from hell.  He would enjoy this man's strength, and attempt to hold on to his dignity, so much that he would become a regular favorite.

The Warrior and The Prince #10

After hours or struggling the young warrior is within minutes of accomplishing his escape. Very unfortunately for him, the evidently not so drunk torturer awakes and sounds the alarm. The Prince arrives "leaving so soon" and orders the strong, brave warrior locked up for the night. "Ah, my friend we will continue tomorrow" 

The Warrior and The Prince #9

The strong battered warrior left under the guard of a very drunk torturer plots his escape. Unnoticed the heat of the pit had burned through the leather straps attached to his toes, as the torturer nods off, through his own pain the begins his escape.

The Warrior and The Prince #8

Let's start the torture and it goes on for a while

Run Away Slave

He Ran, was hunted down, taken prisoner, and brutally punished!!

Richard The Lionhearted

The Sarge Knows What He's Doing

The sarge knows what he's doing, and his subordinate cops watch and learn.  Sarge knows he's got a tough nut here, and that's how he likes em.  The slow steady breaking of a young cocky dude.  Taking him down into the depths.  The dude will keep fairly quiet, but his knees will tremble first.  The trembling will spread through his legs and arms.  Sarge will grin as he sees him get unsteady on those big jock thighs.  Finally there will be a moan and he will fall to his knees, but knees spread wide in male defiance.  The whip will continue to land, and the guy will know he's beaten.  He will fall onto his face, spread-eagled.  The sergeant will move in and lash the guy's flattened back hard and fast with his final coda of punishment.  A bad boy

Gut Punched To Shame

Every brave was allowed six punches to the gut.  They were judged on how many times they could get him to grunt.  A groan got double points.  But Ramzah was the master.  At the first punch he got a long groan.  The second one was an agonised howl.  The third one got a softer sound which told him all he needed to know - he looked at the guy's cockhead and saw it was wet.  The fourth hit was a powerful ramcharge for victory, and Gundar was dribbling.  The fifth hit was a square low sock that connected to the guy's gonads like electric - he spurted his manmilk all over Ramzah's muscled torso, and doubled over in shame, still spunking white muck over the brown man's legs and splayed feet

Batman & Robin

Robin on the torture rack

Gestapo

The young American army captain was captured behind eney lines.  He ws taken to a secret location where he was stripped of his uniform.  Hiss hairy young body was chained up.  The interrogator came in and told him how he would be tortured.  First it was the branding of the german mark on his shoulder.

Then very slowly and painstakingly his soft hairy cock was played with and abused until he was made had.  This was only the beginning of the torture to come.

A Tacit Agreement

It was the kind of arrangement that worked well between men.  The CO was a closet case, and besotted by Corporal Gunnarsen on the left.  Gunnarsen for his part was a bondage top, and especially into whipping guys.  Straight guys, hard guys, well-built guys, the sort who could take it with no fuss and minimum noise.  The military churned them out by the raftload.  The CO would call Gunnarsen into his private quarters, kneel down before him and unzip his camo fly.  Then, his hero holding his automatic rifle at his hip and staring vacantly thru the window at the shirtless men doing push-ups and back raises on the drill ground outside, the CO would milk his corporal's load down into his throat.  Gunnarsen would shake off any excess sperm onto the CO's thin carpet, zip up and give a name.  `Private Bruce from Company `A` sir`.  A slight nod from the CO, and Bruce was Gunnarsen's

Down In the Dungeon

The Spanking Room

The long climb to the spanking room.  All the guys knew what happened in there.  The whip had been abolished by law, but spanking of buttocks had quickly taken its place.  He would be warmed up with a hundred or so hand spanks on his underpants arse, stretched over the arm of a disgusting old sofa stained with beer and cum.  Thinking this was the end, he would get up.  But it was only the start.  His hooded spanker would sit down on the sofa, legs spread wide, and beckon him back.  Connor would look at the door, but it was locked anyway.  He slowly spread himself over the guy's knee.  And take another hundred.  He was moaning in a pain he had never known before.  His spanker would then spread Connor's legs a little wider over his knee, and reach down the back of Connor's waistband and between his legs.  He would have a good feel of his man, and stroke his cock a little.  Connor whimpered in shame.  His searing buttocks had an erotic effect on his basic instincts, and his cock hardened in the man's grasp.  But this was no tea party.  The guy removed his hand and pulled Connor's pants down, getting him to move his pelvis and legs so that the pants could come off completely and get thrown in the corner.  Another pair for the man's collection.  His hand came down hard on Connor's arse.  The hard slap resounded down the corridor and down the stairs. 

The guys heard him, and looked each other.  This was where it  started in earnest.  Connor moaned, yelped and cried as bruises turned redder, then bled.  The guy turned him round onto the other knee so that he could use his other hand.  Connor collapsed into disbelief and became quieter.  As a final flourish the guy took off Connor's leather lace necklet and gave him 55 hard little whips with it that finally broke the abrased skin in a methodical manner and pushed Connor into a new phase of the sharpest pain.  When his screams reached a certain pitch the man knew his job was done.  He pushed three fingers up Connor's arse, and with an expert, relentless motion found Connor's magic spot.  He waggled his fingers and made the naked young guy shoot all over the man's trouser leg, floor and the front of the sofa.  Connor slumped loosely over the man's knee like a broken doll.  The guy pulled his fingers out and licked them.  He reached down and scooped some cum off the sofa, and forced it into Connor's mouth.  He gagged.  The guy pushed him onto the floor and got up.  Connor looked up.  The man was standing over him.  He unzipped his fly and got his cock out.  Connor looked up again to protest, but caught a face full of piss from a big uncut cock.   Connor dropped his head and the man's strong stream of piss covered Connor's head and face completely.  The guy zipped up and walked out.  Years later Connor was still wanking on the memory of that afternoon in the spanking room

Torture Arena of Gor

from the chainedmuscle website

A compilation of images from the story about the torture arena of gor

It didn't last

Biker Boy

From chainedmuscle website

It had been a long night, a night of spunk and pain. Encircled, pulled off his bike, stripped of his leathers, the guys had their fun in the lawless way biker blokes do. He knew somehow there was still plenty of mileage in them. He heard the clink of chains, and someone cracked a whip in the air. Oh no, no that, please not that. But he stayed quiet, and inhaled deeply. The guy standing by him tousled his hair a bit. This really was bloke fun, and if they had the mileage in them, then so did he. His cock started rising again