"I love handcuffs. Let's take a ride."

From Create Your Own Story

“Yeah?” he says, "Good." You stand waiting for the last patrons to clear out, and then he grins, and leads you out into the parking lot. At his car, he pops the trunk, and then helps you get inside. Inside the trunk, there's a gag, and two sets of handcuffs, and a bunch of other stuff, including rope, and some black cloth, a paddle. He ties the gag around your mouth, and then, while you lie on your side, he cuffs your hands behind your back and your ankles together.

He slams the trunk closed.

"All ready in there?"

You let out a muffled reply, but it doesn't sound anything like words, and you hear laughter retreating from the back of the car, and moments later, you hear and feel the driver side door open and close, and the car roars to life. You're jostled as the car pulls out of the parking lot, and very quickly lose track of time bumping along in the trunk. It's uncomfortable, and you quickly lose the "pillow" the bartender prepared for you. When the car finally stops, and you feel the door open and close again, you shift yourself to look up, and the trunk lid opens somewhere mostly dark.

"Hello again," the bouncer grins down at you, still wearing his STAFF shirt. He reaches down, and scoops you up with his thick arms, hoisting you out of the trunk, and he throws you over one shoulder roughly, slamming your face against his back. Briefly, you glimpse that you're in some sort of paved area off the highway, and see a small concrete building once, before the bouncer starts walking towards it.

You bounce against his back, glancing left and right, and then step through a doorway into a room that smells strongly of urine and the damp. Your upside-down view shows you you're in a roadside men's room. With a grunt, the bouncer lifts you off his shoulder, and puts you on the dirty ground, where you roll onto your side, looking up at him. He towers over you, and nods.

"You stay there for a second," he smirks, and you struggle to roll a bit, but he leaves the bathroom, and you stare at the ceiling, wrists store, mouth dry, and unbelievably turned on. You've never felt so vulnerable or dirty.

The bouncer comes back, carrying a backpack, and he grins at you again. "Surprised this place is empty," he says. "It can be pretty popular with the truckers." Then he kneels down beside you, and starts to undo your belt. You shiver at his touch, and he chuckles, undoing your belt, your zipper, and your jeans, and then tugging them and your underwear down in one quick jerk. Your cock comes free, rock hard and straining, and he grabs it and gives it one squeeze before reaching up and tugging your shirt up and over your head, bunching it behind your shoulders. He opens the backpack, and pulls out a large wooden paddle, smacking against his hand.

Then he leans in close to you.

"Last chance, fucker," he says. "You ready for it?"


You...

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