Danny

Time passed.  Danny hovered between dozing and awake as his pinioned leg muscles ached and the weight in the rear of his underpants dried and cooled.

His only conscious thought was of escape but, even at this point, he was frightened by how easily he’d been taken, subdued, and controlled by the old man and his damnable collar. He wondered, idly, what had happened to his cellmate; James. The old boy had made mention of James outliving his usefulness and Danny was fearful that his current predicament might end in much worse than just shitting his pants. He knew that he had to get away or find some way to summon help. The nasty old man was clearly used to getting what he wanted and Danny swallowed bile as he pictured having to actually suck the guy off. 

He moved around as much as he could to alleviate the cramping in his legs and thighs; the bulge in his underwear squishing and then settling against his heels as he found infinitesimally new positions to give his aching muscles relief.

The hunky rugby player had no idea how much time had passed when the door to the cell opened again and a goon entered the space and, unceremoniously, cut the ties binding his ankles to his fettered wrists and unclipped the leash attached to his neck from the cell wall. The goon then pulled Danny upright to an aching, standing position and started towards the door of the cell, leash in hand. Danny’s limbs burned from the extended bondage and he realised that the ankle ties meant he couldn’t walk but had to hop awkwardly in order to avoid falling to the floor and being dragged by his neck. His entreaties to the goon fell on deaf ears,

“Please! I can’t keep up! Uhhh!”

As he jumped along, gracelessly, behind his captor he felt the weight in the rear of his underpants bounce horribly. A now-solid lump that, with every hop, threatened to pull his once-white briefs down and leave his most-private parts exposed. He quickly settled for quick, low, jumps to avoid accidentally losing what remained of his modesty.

The goon and his hapless cargo left the cells and entered the more formal, and ornate, corridors of the mansion. Rich red walls and gold-leafed picture frames became the décor with, occasionally, a baroque mirror that showed Danny the true state of his humiliation. He clocked himself in a few of these such mirrors; naked apart from his dreadfully stained underwear, an enormous mound of his own waste bouncing along, horrendously out of sync with his own gentle hops, obvious to all who might look at him.     

“Where are you taking me?”

“Please, I won’t tell anyone if you let me go”

“Please talk to me! Where’s James?”

The goon, clearly irritated by Danny’s constant questions, stopped suddenly. Danny hopped to an uncomfortable halt and took in the angry face of his captor,

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to wind you up!”. The goon reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a ball gag,

“No! Please mate, there’s no need for that. I’ll be quiet! I’m sorry!”

It was the work of seconds for the goon to manhandle the gag into Danny’s mouth and secure the leather straps around his head.

“Mmmff! Mmmff!”

The beefy captor then stood back and appeared to take in Danny’s predicament properly for the first time since yanking him out of the cell. He walked around the trembling rugby player, seemingly noting his muscular, hairy frame. Danny tried to turn with the goon as he perambulated around his charge, trying to keep his butt out of the man’s view. It did him no good for he was too unsteady on his feet and was desperate not to trip and fall to the floor and render himself even more vulnerable. The goon whistled appreciatively as he took in Danny’s lumpen rear; the underwear hanging perilously low on the lad’s butt and acting as a hammock for its vile contents, swinging backwards and forwards as Danny hopped in place.

Moving to stand in front of the hapless lad, the thug eyeballed the stiff, dried emissions coating the front of Danny’s briefs, appeared to come to a decision, that caused him a wry smile, and produced one of the hated remote-control devices. He looked Danny straight in the eye and pressed a couple of buttons. The effect, via the collar, was immediate.

The muscular rugby player felt his dick start to harden, in the blink of an eye, and feelings of arousal coursed through his whole body. Danny tried to speak but was rendered completely unintelligible by the huge rubber ball secured in his mouth. All he could manage was guttural grunts and, as he took in this new ability from the collar, he looked down at himself and realised that his unwanted hard-on was tenting the confines of his once-white, once-yellow, now stale-brown briefs in a most obvious manner.

“Muuhhh… mmmmff!!”

The goon turned and continued on his mission to deliver his sweaty and soiled charge to wherever he was due next.

Danny had no choice but to keep on hopping behind his captor, his soiled underpants bouncing with their odious load, his unwanted hard-on throbbing to its own rhythm; every tentative hop causing the head of his knob to rub against the crusted cotton of his briefs. He panted in exertion and arousal in equal measure as they traversed the opulent hallways.

Eventually, and with Danny at the point wherein he’d completely forgotten his own debased form and was solely concentrated on ejaculating as he jerked, rather than hopped, behind his captor, they entered a drawing room of some description.

The muscular 21-year-old was desperate to cum and he no longer cared about how he looked or, frankly, smelled. In fact, the weight in the rear of his pants, smacking against his butt as he hopped, was oddly stimulating and his underwear were dripping with pre-cum as he ground his body to achieve release.

This was a lounge space like the one Danny had first encountered when he arrived at the mansion. The fireplace flickered and the expensive armchairs were inviting. There was no one else in the room. The goon led the jumping lad to one of the armchairs and Danny noticed that, unlike the other rich fabrics on display in the room, this chair had a plastic-coated seat cushion and a number of anchor points discretely visible on various parts of the back and arms.

Realising too late what was about to happen, Danny could only cry out as the goon shoved him backwards into the chair. His butt hit the seat and he immediately felt the contents of his briefs squash up and around him repulsively. At his rear, his load squished up his arse crack uncomfortably and in front, his balls were suddenly pushed up and forward by the invading filth; causing him unfortunate stimulation in his priapic state and drawing forth a groan of unwanted pleasure from the helpless lad.

In spite of Danny’s entreaties from behind the gag, the goon then adroitly untied and resecured his ankles to the legs of the chair. He then produced leather strapping and secured the befouled hunk’s knees, chest, and neck to the chair. Finally, the goon untied Danny’s aching arms and quickly attached them at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist. The final effect was immediately obvious to Danny; he was presented, to all who wanted to see, sitting in his own waste, his legs held wide, a raging boner tenting the front of his appallingly stained underpants. Any movement simply exacerbated matters and pushed shit either up his back or towards the front where it served to further stimulate the poor lad’s painfully erect dick. At least he was spared the chafing of the stiffened cotton as his briefs were now soaked in pre-cum and he could see the throbbing head of his penis, highlighted by the glistening ooze on the once-white fabric, quite plainly.

The burly captor produced one final item; a leather blindfold. He attached this to Danny, immediately blocking out all light, and gruffly wished him luck; his voice disappearing into the distance.

Hearing the door close behind the goon, Danny sat for a moment trying to work out what he could possibly do to get free. His thoughts were addled by the insistent need to somehow jack off his throbbing hard-on. He tested all of the straps securing him to the high-backed armchair but there was no chance of him getting out of the damn thing. As he moved, while doing this, his balls and dick were further stimulated by the tight, wet, fabric and the lumpen mass below him. He suddenly realised that he was rocking in his bonds, absently trying to grind his dick so that he could achieve release and, with a great effort, stopped and remained still as he attempted to gain some control of himself.

Sadly, the effect of the collar was too strong and, within 30 seconds Danny was, again, shifting in his seat; desperately trying to stimulate himself and get off. After 60 seconds he lost all semblance of restraint and began to buck, furiously, in the chair; thrusting against the soaked underwear, frantically trying to move his butt so that more of his now-clay-like filth would move forward and push his balls around further. Anything to try and bring himself to orgasm. A full two minutes later and Danny, sweating with the efforts of his exertions, was no longer in control of himself.

The unseeing rugby stud hadn’t noticed that he was shouting from behind the gag as he jerked and lurched towards the only thing that mattered to him; his urgent need to cum. Bouncing in the seat of the chair, heedless of the leather straps cutting into his arms, finally, with a muffled and throaty scream from behind the rubber ball, Danny came. Wave after wave of hot salty cum erupted from his engorged prick and flooded the front of his, now revoltingly defiled, underwear. The muscular rugby player yelled himself hoarse as he pumped his seed into the soiled cotton; smacking his butt up and down on the seat as he thrust, and thrust, to purge his aching ball sack; a noxious squelching accompanying his every movement.

Finally, his breathing ragged, Danny subsided. Sweat coated his hairy frame as he slumped into the comfort of the armchair and felt the trickles of cum work their way down the soaked fabric and his satiated cock. The sense of bliss was intense and Danny realised he’d never had an orgasm this powerful in his life. As he panted and perspired, he no longer cared that he was sitting, in bondage, in his own disgusting mess. The afterglow was heavenly.

The sound of polite clapping was like a bucket of water in Danny’s face. His skin went cold and gooseflesh erupted on his bare frame as he was brought back to the reality of his situation. His head jerked left and right as he tried to identify the source of the applause; acutely aware of what he’d just done, messily and loudly. All sensations of elation bled away and the 21-year-old felt simply drained and exhausted; waves of humiliation crashing over him. Danny considered himself a strong man but he openly wept behind the leather blindfold as his sweat cooled and his dick shrank.

He jumped in shock as he felt hands, at his temples, work to remove the leather blindfold and, blinking, Danny became horribly aware that his ordeal had not been without an audience.

The shattered lad looked, fearfully, around. The old geezer was the one who had been applauding. He was seated close by and near to the roaring fire. Danny’s humiliation was amplified by the presence of 4 men, also seated comfortably, in the other chairs in the room. The old fucker spoke,

“Well done my lad! I must say it does my heart proud to watch a virile young man give way to his inner excesses and you, my boy, have certainly been excessive”.

The old guy glanced meaningfully towards the seat of the chair within which Danny was held and, looking down, the rugby player realised the picture he presented. The seat of the chair was muddied with his bowel movement; his underwear no longer able to contain the mess as he drove himself to orgasm. His dick had receded, under the inquisitive stares of the crowd of men in front of him, but the front of his briefs gave no illusion as to what he’d just done. The cotton was wet with his own spooge and the disgusting brown stain from his own effluent reached halfway up the fabric.

“Gentlemen? Shall we adjourn for dinner? Oh, don’t fret, you’ll see young Daniel again shortly as we dine”. The men, all of them of an age and all giving the subtle appearance of wealth, readied themselves to move away to another room but Danny felt their lascivious stares as they noted his fouled state and their eyes lingered on his befouled groin even as they departed the lounge.

As the door closed Danny’s shock set in and he began to shake uncontrollably. He barely noticed the goon who approached him and swiftly injected him in his neck with a syringe. Within seconds the soiled hunk slumped in his bonds and so did not see the goons enter to join their colleague in preparing him for the next part of his induction.