Tiff

fit cunt Cali
Write a message

Information

  • My age:
  • 29
  • Eye tint:
  • I’ve got brilliant gray eyes but I use colored contact lenses
  • What is my gender:
  • Girl
  • What I like to listen:
  • My favourite music latin
  • In my spare time I love:
  • Singing

About

Bottom Initiation First time bottom gets more than he anticipated My body got plenty of abuse from my friends but I still wanted to experience more and so I decided to find more serious BDSM through the internet Story of being pick up on the road one night then coerced into submission and manipulated into becoming a willing slave to a demanding Master and his friends

Description

This is a real location and I am thankful that its owners have graciously consented to let me use it as inspiration for this tale. I need to emphasize that the people and events described here are purely fictional. In particular, please do not assume that the owners of the real-world facility are anything like the jailer in this story. The captive is likewise a fictional invention. Also, for any readers who have been to The Edge, please know that I tried to make the fictional version as similar as possible to the original, but I needed to take several liberties with the setting in order to make the story work, so the descriptions here might not completely match your memory of the real thing.

The narrative contains non-consensual male-on-male sexual activity, restraint, and captivity.

It is intended for mature readers who wish to view such material, and for whom it is legal to do so. The author in no way condones or promotes non-consensual acts in real life. For spam prevention, an animal name has been added to the author's e-mail address. Remove the animal name to get the actual address: POWauthor zebra at yahoo dot com.

This story may be freely copied and distributed so long as it is copied in its entirety, unchanged, including the author credit information and disclaimer. The author welcomes feedback.

The sun shone brightly down, its light shattered and scattered into hundreds, thousands of tiny pinpoint beams by the lacy branches overhead. The September day was warm. All traces of the morning's fog had burned away hours before, leaving the sky above those lacy branches an endless clear, hazy blue. The night would get cool as it always did in this stretch of the Santa Cruz Mountains, but Pete was ready for that: layers. Never go anywhere in the Bay Area without planning for temperatures anywhere from the 50s to the 90s, usually only hours apart.

His backpack rested easily on his shoulders.

This was Monday, day two of a planned weeklong hike. Pete had no particular destination in mind and was simply roaming across the hills and valleys, following trails wherever they led, sometimes making his own trails.

There was no plan whatsoever for the first four days. He was simply walking. Or, sometimes, when the mood struck, sitting and not walking. It was the perfect antidote to his over-regimented, over-structured job in Palo Alto. Pete had arranged for a week off and told his colleagues that he needed to just To address the Nature Deficit Disorder problem that was turning every day into a hour-long grind.

He would be completely unavailable for the entire time. Out of touch. No contact. His coworkers had either scoffed or else quietly shaken their he at the naive idea that he could be out of touch with the world for so long. No Facebook, no Snapchat, no LinkedIn? For a whole week? Yeah, right! He'd bail out, of course he would. This was the 21st century, not the 19th. They made jokes about covered wagons and the Donner party.

His plan for the first four days was aimless rambling. He was packing all the food he would need, a bedroll to sleep in, and a tarp for shelter from any rain that might fall unlikely this time of year. He would have to refill his water bottles at some point but he had brought a filter along for that purpose, and these mountains were full of freshwater streams. On day five, he would use his map and phone - yes, he had brought his phone, and a solar charger to keep it powered up, but it would stay turned off until it was needed - to figure out where he was, then start working his way out of the wilderness.

The wooded mountains seemed to stretch out forever, but they were laced with ro and homes and he would never be very far from rescue if he needed it. Then phone a friend and catch a ride back to civilization. This was not his first hike through these mountains, though it would be the longest time he had ever been out.

He had gotten a lift from a friend who was going to Santa Cruz yesterday morning and had asked to be dropped off well before town, just where the forest started giving Gay s&m stories to suburbs.

Pow's fiction - gay s&m stories

From there he struck out northward, inland. The undergrowth was thick by the road but once he had pushed through a bit, it cleared out. The dense canopy overhead blocked the light from reaching ground level, keeping the understory relatively open. He had climbed, gaining altitude as he pushed away from the coast, until all at once, rounding a stony outcrop, he had emerged above the marine layer to look down on the mist that he had been ascending through.

Full list of our free gay bdsm stories

It was a glorious sight, the sun gleaming off the clouds that shrouded the ground from view, vapor wisping and flowing as breezes skittered capriciously through the pale streamers. A brief descent next, and then another climb to his first campsite of the journey. A meal and then a rest. His legs ached but it was a warm, satisfying kind of ache, the ache of muscles that had been doing what they were supposed to be doing.

There Gay s&m stories be an adjustment over the next few days as his body adapted to a life on the move, but Pete was in shape and had done this before. Today, day two, had been spent mostly climbing again. Whenever he had a choice of path, he picked the one that trended most uphill. The vegetation cleared out even further as he rose out of the moist valleys into the drier uplands. Trees became more spread out, less dense. Every so often he came across a home or a road, but there was always plenty of room to go around or cross over quickly and be back in the forest.

In the early afternoon, after a dried lunch that was nevertheless satisfyingly filling, he came into an area that had clearly been affected by one of last year's many wildfires. The few standing trees were skeletons, charred and ash-colored.

Quick-growing vegetation was furiously reclaiming the newly-opened space, sending forth shoots and runners to colonize what would have been a moonscape six months ago. He came to a road before too long, which was a help because the undergrowth was thick and made for difficult walking. He followed the road for a while and at one point came up around the shoulder of a hill and saw an intact building not too far away.

The building stood alone in a clear field where nothing more than knee-high grew. A large satellite dish clung to one wall, high up near the roof, which sported an array of angled solar panels busily converting the sun's bright rays into electrical potential.

The building looked as if it belonged on a military base, a command-and-control center occupied by uniformed crew-cuts busily intercepting enemy communications, tightly encrypting them, and then relaying them onward via that giant dish. Looking at the dish, Pete realized it was not pointing upward toward the sky but rather sideways toward some invisibly-distant matching receiver on a remote hilltop.

Gay bdsm & fetish stories

This was clearly not a dish for receiving television programs, which just added support to the idea that the structure was some sort of military bunker. It looked completely out of place on this remote fire-scarred ridge, as though the whole thing had somehow been lifted from among its dozens of peers at Camp Pendleton and plunked down by itself several hundred miles north.

Had Pete accidentally stumbled into a restricted area without realizing? No, that couldn't be - he had crossed no fence line, passed nothing that might have Gay s&m stories a guard house. The building stood in silence, inscrutably declining to answer his questions. One of those questions was: how had it survived the fire? Surveying the area, Pete could see the foundation of other structures nearby. One might have been a house Neither was very far from the intact building, so what sort of inferno could burn two buildings clear to the ground while leaving a third apparently undamaged?

He moved in for a closer look. The explanation became clear as he drew near: the surviving building was constructed entirely of cinderblocks. Nothing about it was flammable, not the roof, not even the windo— well, now that was odd. There were no windows. There was no door either, at least not Gay s&m stories visible from where he was standing. There were no vehicles anywhere nearby as well, which reassured him that he wasn't about to be swarmed by a squad of stone-faced MPs and arrested for trespassing.

He stepped up close to one wall and began circling around to the other side. Ah, there was the door. He inspected it - no fire damage. Touching it, he found the door to be constructed of steel. There were a few scorch marks on it and on the walls, but aside from the minor cosmetic marring the entire structure was unscathed.

Maybe this was a storm shelter Oklahomans needed tornado shelters, not Californians. An earthquake shelter, then? But no, that didn't make any sense either. He pressed against the door, feeling its sturdiness and strength beneath his fingers. This was a serious door, not something that was going to give way lightly, not even to a blazing inferno that had effortlessly bulldozed every other structure in the Startled, Pete let go and the door slipped shut again.

‘gay s&m’ stories

He pressed again and the door yielded once more, exposing a crack into a darkness that his sun-adapted eyes could make nothing of. I really shouldn't be doing thisPete thought, and yet, what was the harm? He had always had a curious streak, and there was no one here.

The owners of this property were clearly elsewhere, probably having long, protracted negotiations with their insurance company and the local zoning board and half a dozen overbooked building contractors. He had no intention of taking anything.

I just want to see what's inside.

New members

Gusty

Bottom Initiation First time bottom gets more than he anticipated
More

Mathilda

Log In Up.
More

Isahella

Antonio, a young Italian gay guy moves to Canada and meet a black Master.
More

Riki

The song "Kisses Sweeter than Wine" sprang to my mind, because that was what his kisses were.
More