Models: Mark Davis & Jynx Maze
The sound of the door closing prompted Silas to turn and face his visitor. Well, he turned his head at least, which was all he could do given that his arms and legs were strapped to the leather pads of a bondage bench. Still, the bodysuit he’d been forced into still felt foreign and the jiggle of his tits when he moved sent a shudder through his nubile new body.
The man who entered was tall and muscular. The overhead lights reflected dully off his bald head and he was dressed all in black, his outfit composed of an open shirt over a vest, jeans and sleek shoes. As he approached his silver chain necklace gleamed with a shine just as cold as his piercing eyes.
‘Damon,’ Silas said. The word felt strange on his lips, which he supposed wasn’t surprising given they weren’t actually his lips at all. ‘I take it you’ve come to apologise for this little stunt? I don’t know what you think you’re doing but this ain’t funny.’ Silas tried to sound intimidating but in this body his attempt fell flat.
Damon only smirked. ‘Not exactly.’
Striding across the room he stood over Silas and admired his feminine figure. Damon’s eyes lingered on Silas’s raised ass and hanging tits. He circled his captive like a shark eyeing up wounded prey and though Silas couldn’t turn to face him he could feel Damon’s gaze on his exposed holes.
Silas wasn’t an idiot. He knew he was in deep shit. He had joined Damon’s gang when he was only sixteen and he’d seen plenty of thugs come and go since. In that time he’d worked up through the ranks, building up respect until Damon had finally trusted him to serve as his righthand man.
But his ambition had pushed him on. Over time he’d grown to covet Damon’s position and by the time he became second-in-command Silas had a plan to usurp his boss. Last night he had put that plan into action, delivering the cops enough dirt on Damon to build a bulletproof case against him, while also paying them off to keep quiet about where they got their evidence from. In a few days they would raid Damon’s home, arrest him, and drag him off to jail, leaving Silas as the obvious replacement.
Or at least, that’s how things should have gone. But somehow Damon had found out. Silas didn’t know how, but it was the only explanation. And Silas had seen first-hand what happened to people who betrayed his boss. It never ended well.
‘You sold me out,’ Damon said. ‘Of all the people who would try and stab me in the back, I never thought you’d be stupid enough to attempt it. You were the closest thing to an ally I had in this gang.’ He shrugged. ‘But I guess you’re just the same as all the rest. That’s why it pays to suspect everyone and always keep some cards close to your chest. And as it happens one of those cards goes by the name of Constable Davies.’
Silas’s new face dropped. Fuck. Constable Davies was the cop he’d handed the evidence to; evidence Davies had then passed straight to Damon. Silas groaned with dismay. Of course Damon had contacts he never shared; of course he had bent cops on his payroll.
Damon smirked as he watched realisation wash over Silas’s face. ‘I can’t deny I respect your work. If it wasn’t for Davies I wouldn’t have suspected a thing. But I’m sure you can understand that I can’t tolerate insubordination, least of all from my righthand man. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to make an example of you. But first, we’re going to have a little chat.’
From there, Silas’s world devolved into an agonisingly orgasmic cycle of erotic torture.
Nobody knew their way around a bodysuit like Damon. He had been dealing them for over a decade, keeping abreast of all the latest advancements in order to ensure his were the best on the black market. He knew every inch of every model, every trigger embedded in the code, every sensitive spot; he knew where a riding crop would sting the most and all the codes to activate dormant subconscious protocols. As a result, though the suit Silas was wearing was supposed to be an instrument of pleasure, Damon had no trouble at all twisting it into a source of endless torment.
Damon started with a beating. Laying into Silas with a merciless cane, he held nothing back as he struck blow after blow to the tune of Silas’s screams ricocheting off the walls. The assault was entirely impartial, an even beating applied everywhere from the soles of his feet to the plump cheeks of his ass, the bare nubs of his nipples to his clenched knuckles – wherever it would hurt, Damon struck. Yet at the same time it was also random, no two blows ever coming in the same place and therefore leaving Silas unable to prepare for the next impact.
After caning Silas until his breath came in short, ragged gasps, Damon relented for a short time. In many ways though, that made things even worse. The red welts marring his soft skin slowly faded – a perk of the bodysuit’s Flawless Skin processes – but Silas knew Damon was far from finished and the wait for the inevitable was almost as torturous as the caning, his nerves fraying more with each passing minute.
When he finally continued, Damon produced a black wand vibrator and brandished it with a cruel grin as panic crossed Silas’s face. Pressing the head of the vibrator against Silas’s new sex, Damon slid it between his folds, brushing up against his clit every so often. Each time he did so he drew a sharp cry from his captive’s lips, but most of the time he kept the vibrator just far enough away from Silas’s clit to leave him desperate for more.
As he worked the vibrator, he also slid a thumb into Silas’s ass, probing his hole slowly. Initially Silas assumed this was intended as just another stimulus, but then Damon pressed a certain spot inside his ass and blinding pleasure roared through Silas’s insides. With the Prostate Imitation system activated, he groaned long and loud as he was forced to deal with both his P-spot and his clit being stimulated.
But Damon wasn’t finished. A metal hook tipped with a large silver ball was sat on the bondage table beside Silas. After what felt like an eternity, Damon eased it into Silas’s ass, drawing the process out until he was whimpering as the hook slid slowly deeper to press against his P-spot.
Once the hook was in position, Damon pulled a rope from the ceiling and bound it around the other end. The rope itself rose up to a pulley on the roof before descending back down to a crank attached to the wall. With this Damon pulled the rope tight, forcing Silas to lift his ass as high as he could just to relieve some of the pressure on his prostate; if he didn’t the intensity of the sensation caused his vision to blur at the edges. Yet in doing so he also exposed his pussy more, which Damon took great advantage of by spanking Silas’s clit and folds with stinging force.
And so the torture continued, each torment building on the last until Silas was sobbing and babbling and begging for relief.
Throughout it all, Damon’s interrogation was constant. He wanted to know everything. Had Silas handed the evidence to anyone else? Had he contacted any other law enforcement? Had he prepared any backups of the evidence? If so, were there any failsafe measures that would send them to his contacts if he was discovered? Were any other members of the gang involved in the scheme? And on, and on, and on – a ruthlessly comprehensive inquisition that omitted no details.
In return, Damon promised the torture would stop.
By the time Damon asked his final question Silas was a wreck. Unable to cope with the blend of crippling pain and incredible pleasure Damon subjected him to he sang like the proverbial canary, giving his boss everything with barely any resistance.
Now, as Damon finally stood back, Silas let out a sob of relief. Though the hook had been removed from his ass, his cheeks stung keenly after the merciless spanking he had just received. His breath came in fractured gasps. His heart stuttered against his chest. He was a broken man and they both knew it.
‘Thank you, Silas. I appreciate your cooperation. This chat has been very helpful, but I think it’s about time we wrapped things up.’
However, the buckle Damon undid next didn’t belong to any of the straps holding Silas in place. Instead he removed his belt and allowed his trousers to drop around his ankles. Stepping out of them, he removed his boxers and allowed his cock to buck free. He was already hard.
Damon smiled as Silas’s pretty face twisted with confusion.
‘You… you said the torture would stop,’ Silas said. His voice was hoarse from screaming and the words came slowly, his exhausted mind floundering.
‘Oh, it will. But I never specified how.’ Damon stroked his cock as he spoke, his erection rising further. ‘Like I said earlier, I need to make an example of you. The thing is, most guys in this line of work aren’t easy to ruffle. Violence comes with the territory and even though they don’t want to die it’s something of an occupational hazard.’ He paused, his cold stare boring into Silas’s soul. ‘The threat of permanent conversion though – now that will keep people in line.’
Silas’s eyes went wide. ‘No,’ he breathed.
Damon grinned. ‘Yes. You’re never getting out of that suit, Silas. It’s been coded to activate Full Conversion in response to a specific trigger, and you know what that means. The suit seals you in permanently, wipes your mind and replaces you with a brand new persona. Better still, I programmed this particular suit to run the Imprinting protocols to that same trigger. Once the suit corrupts you, you’ll become hopelessly addicted to the body of the first man you see – that man being me. Most of all though, you’ll be loyal. You’ll never stray from me, never eye up another guy or crave a different lover. I could torment you as brutally as I have tonight and you’ll love every second and thank me for it after. You’ll be my naughty, needy slut, Silas. And with you on my arm everyone will have a constant reminder of what I do to traitors in my gang.’
Blind panic washed over Silas and with what little strength he had left he struggled feebly against his restraints. Damon stalked around the table and out of view as Silas babbled for mercy.
‘Please, Damon, don’t do this, let me go, oh God, please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was an idiot, I’ll never betray you again, I promise, I’ll be loyal, I’ll do anything, just please don’t lock me in, don’t wipe my mind, don’t – oh fuck!’
His wailing was cut off as Damon once again slid the hook into his tight ass and sent waves of pleasure rolling through his insides. Damon laughed coldly as Silas whimpered.
‘You know, you never asked what the trigger was?’ Lifting one leg, Damon planted his foot on the bondage bench and rested his thick cock on Silas’s ass cheek.
‘What is it?’
Silas could hear the grin in Damon’s voice. ‘This.’
With that, he drove deep into Silas’s tight, wet pussy.
‘No, Damon, please n-oooohhhh…’ Silas’s voice trailed off in a sensual groan as orgasmia flooded his mind. All the panic drained from his features and he stopped struggling. For a moment they were both still, Damon simply holding himself inside his captive as the suit sealed itself up forever.
Then Damon reached down and gripped the woman’s ponytail before beginning to thrust in long, slow strokes. Another groan escaped her lips, much sluttier this time, and she instinctively rocked against his hips in time to his thrusts. The movement sent mind-bending pleasure through her nubile body as the hook shifted in her ass and Damon’s cock ground against her G-spot. Her eyes rolling and a delirious smile plucking at the corners of her lips she gripped hold of the bench with white knuckled ferocity as her new Master began to increase his pace.
‘Yes, Master, fuck me harder. Fuck my brains out. Spank me and punish me and use me how you want. I’m yours. All yours. Forever. Please, Master, I want you to make me scream…’
Thanks for reading!
So I can’t deny this one is a fair bit darker than my usual fare. But to be honest that’s one of the reasons I enjoy it. I think the contrast between this and my normal less intense stories makes this one stand out more, which I like. When I was writing this I decided to just let the story unravel without restrictions, which evolved into the hardcore interrogation and eventual forced submission Silas endures. At the end of the day, when the right gallery and the right idea comes along I have no issue tapping into the darker side of erotica, and I feel that this story proves that when I do that, I do a decent job of it.
Since this is the last story of November, I also wanted to briefly mention my Christmas slate for this year. At the time of writing (late October), I have about half of December’s stories finished. I’m aiming to put out a few extras around key days in the month as I usually do, but at the minute I’m not totally sure how many of the remaining half I’ll have time to get finished. If you’re interested in a more detailed breakdown, make sure you read the notes in next week’s story, because although it’s only a week away for you, due to the fact I schedule my stories in monthly blocks that means a whole month will have passed for me as I’ll be scheduling December’s around the time this story itself comes out.
Anyway, that’s all I have to say for now, so I hope to see you back here next week for the first festive story of 2023!
