I've always liked weird supernatural shit, so why not combine it with bondage?
Neil had no way of knowing how long he’d been trapped. His adventure had been going brilliantly until then.
Many were aware of the rumours of the ancient treasures that were supposed to be inside the Temple of Ksosc. It was an old tale, the origins of which have been lost in the great mists of time. A select few, however, knew these rumours to be true. On his gap gear in Cambodia, a drunk in a bar was telling anyone who would listen about how close he was to finding the treasures. Gilded rooms full of ancient currencies. Gems, fabrics, exotic materials that existed only in ancient folklore, all waiting for any explorer brave enough to venture inside. Neil was no explorer, but he was about to study architecture, and although his old drunk's stories were undoubtedly highly exaggerated, he would no doubt be referring to some old ruins somewhere. Neil asked the old drunk to guide him to the “entrance” and for a modest fee, he agreed.
The four hour trek through the dense Cambodian jungle was unpleasant, but they made it. An unassuming cave, hidden in the depths of the jungle. No wonder no one had claimed whatever treasure was supposedly hidden within. Even if someone stumbled blindly in the enormous jungle and found the cave, no one would go in it except for shelter.
“That’s how I discovered it, junior”
Inside the cave were ornate carvings, with steps leading down to a stone arch. Neil felt eerie; something about this didn’t feel right.
“This is as far as I go junior. I barely made it out, I’m not going in there again. Oh yeah, watch out for any traps”
“Trap?” Neil asked this guide, but he was nowhere to be seen. Panic set in. With the old drunk gone, how would he leave the jungle, even if he did find the treasure!
Feeling like he had no choice, and with daylight fading, Neil entered the Temple of Ksosc.
What first struck Neil was that the temple was lit with a strange light, seemingly coming from no logical source. He ventured onwards, narrowly avoiding spike traps, darts and pits, until he came across a room with what looked like a map carved on the back wall. He took a step inside the room, and a heavy portcullis slammed shut behind him, leaving him trapped! He examined the map carving. It revealed that he was in a complex labyrinth. Although the map showed a picture of a maze, he had no idea where he was. Even if he could find a way out of this room, he’d never remember where the exit was, let alone any treasure. Neil began to cry.
An unknown amount of time later, Neil heard footsteps.
“HELP! HELP! I’M TRAPPED HERE!”
The footsteps got louder. Neil saw three rapidly approaching men. One of them looked awfully familiar.
“Fancy seeing you here!” said the old man from earlier. He sounded suspiciously sober. All three of them were wearing identical outfits. Dressed completely in black cotton, with what looked like masses of clean white soccer socks attached to belts around their waists.
“GET ME OUT OF HERE”
The three men conversed in a language Neil didn’t understand. He learned basic Khmer before leaving for his gap year but didn’t pick up a single word.
The portcullis opened. The three men rushed in.
“Thanks, guys! I could ha.. wait, what are you doing?!
The old man and one of the other men held Neil down. The third man yanked a sock free from his belt, and tied his wrists tightly behind his back. More words Neil didn’t understand were spoken, and the old man forced a hand over his mouth.
“Hmmm! Hmmm!”
Neil tried fighting the men off, but it was three on one, and the one had his hands tied behind his back. A second sock was used to cinch the sock binding his wrists. The man doing the tying tugged a third sock free. The younger man holding Neil down forced his elbows together, and the sock was tied above them. His elbows were forced to touch, and the sock was knotted, then cinched with a fourth sock. With Neil not able to resist much anymore, a fifth sock for pulled free from the belt. As Neil could no longer wriggle around to avoid it, this time the sock was pulled as taut as possible, eliminating as much stretch as possible, before being tied tightly just below his elbows. Neil winced into the hand gagging him as it was tied. A sixth sock was pulled free from the belt and used to cinch the fifth, again pulled as taut as possible.
With the socks below his elbows making fidgeting nearly impossible, the man holding Neil down helped his colleague untie the socks above his elbows, with the old man maintaining the handgag. The socks were stretched to their limits, before being tied and cinched above his elbows. Neil didn’t notice any difference in his elbows, but he could feel the socks on his wrists starting to loosen slightly from his frantic struggling. A seventh and eighth sock was used to crush his forearms together. The two goons doing the tying unbound his wrists. Neil desperately tried to prevent them from retying them, but the new forearm bondage only allowed him to separate them by an inch. This inch was cruelly taken away from him as the sock was stretched to its absolute limit. A tiny tear could be heard from the sock, if it wasn’t drowned out by Neil whining into his handbag. His wrists were tightly bound and cinched. He was starting to get a backache from his elbows being pinned together behind his back.
The men conversed in their language. The old man, apparently the only one who could speak English, spoke to Neil.
“If you promise to be good and quiet, I’ll take my hand off your mouth. Do you promise?”
Neil mumbled yes and nodded.
The handgag was removed, and Neil immediately let his former guide have it.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?! WHY AMMMMMPHH!”
A hand was planted firmly over Neil’s mouth. One of the three grabbed a sock from his belt, but was stopped from pulling it loose. The one that did the tying earlier shook his head, and pointed at Neil’s feet. All three smirked.
Neil was forced to sit on the floor. Two of the goons held his legs together while the third untied his shoes.
[img]
The room immediately smelt of Neil’s pungent foot odour. His feet didn’t smell that good at the best of times. After being worn for three days straight, in the sweltering heat of a Cambodian summer, including a four hour trek in a humid jungle, they could be considered a minor health hazard. The once clean white, long thick socks were going a dingy brown colour. A few small holes had formed, although from the smell or the wear no one could know. All three goons were shaking their heads. They all knew what was next, but none of them wanted to volunteer. Finally, one of the goons holding Neil's legs together gathered up all his courage and peeled off the sock closest to him. The other goon holding his legs peeled off the other sock. One of them stopped holding Neil’s legs together and quickly put his trainers back on his nasty feet. The trainers covered the stench of his feet, but they could still smell those socks. A disgusting mix of vinegar and strong cheese.
Neil saw his opportunity now only one man was holding his legs and began kicking out. The goon that but his trainers on soon put a stop to that, and tied his ankles together with a sock, before cinching it with another. They were nowhere near as tight as he socks on his arms, but with a man holding his legs together as well it was more than enough for now.
The goon that was now free picked up the socks from the floor, one in each hand. He approached Neil’s face. One of his socks was forced over his nose. Neil wiggled around, but was held firm by the other two goons and the socks binding him. He fought against the oppressive aroma. He felt lightheaded almost immediately. He swore he could feel his nostril hairs trying to retract inwards to escape the smell. His handgag was lifted. Neil coughed at the nauseating stench of the sock, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the other sock was forced in his now open mouth, toe end first! He coughed and wretched violently as his tongue made contact with whatever matter was stuck on that sock. Cotton, sweat, toe jam, and millions of bacteria unknown to science. Strong fingers forced more and more of the think cotton soccer sock inside Neil’s mouth. He felt sick. The heel of the sock was crammed in his mouth, and Neil was really regretting not changing his socks more often, and wearing socks that big. The rest of the sock was pretty clean, but none of the clean parts of the sock was going anywhere near Neil’s tastebuds. His mouth was rapidly running out of room now, but the goon kept pushing, finding more space in the cheeks and the roof of his mouth. The goon was eventually satisfied there was no more space in Neil’s mouth. Plus, there was very little sock left to go in his mouth anyway.
[img]
The old man handgagged Neil again. His whining was far quieter than it was before. Not that there was anyone anywhere near him that would rescue him. The goons didn’t want to hear him complain or ask questions. They’d had it before, time and again. Who are you? Where am I? Why are you doing this? It’s too tight. It hurts. Bla Bla Bla.
The free goon took the other sock, and tied a fat knot in the middle. The handgag was removed, and the knot was forced into Neil’s mouth. Half the knot made it, the other half stuck out comically from his lips. The ends of the sock were knotted tightly behind the back of his head. The left side of his face had the clean part of the sock. The right side of his face has the nasty sweaty foot part of the sock. It was tied in such a way that the heel of the sock was touching Neil’s cheek, and the sole was against his hair. Neil’s pleas were almost muted. His breathing was nearly as loud as his desperate cries for help. His coughing at the taste was the most noise he could make.
[img]
One of the goons removed a collar from his pocket and fastened it round Neil’s neck. His ankles were untied and he was pulled to his feet.
“Now, junior. There is someone we want to introduce you to. The Master."
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All pictures of faces are made by generated.photos and are therefore not real. Crude manips done by me in paint. Edited so grammar and spelling don't suck as much as before.
The Temple of Ksosc (M/MMMfF?) Chapter 2 7/3
The Temple of Ksosc (M/MMMfF?) Chapter 2 7/3
Last edited by zerg rush 2 years ago, edited 2 times in total.
"Wait, why are you taking off my socks? My mouth? But I've worn them all day and they're all sweaty and they're far too big to fi-mmmmpgffph!
An intriguing start! I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes. 
-
CrownedLoy76
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 49
- Joined: 4 years ago
- Location: USA
so good so far, cant wait for the next chapter
WARNING. The bondage is this chapter is over the top. Don't try this at home. Unless you hate whoever you do it to, I guess.
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“NMMMM!” Neil cried into the mass of sweaty cotton crammed and held in his mouth. A lead was attached to his collar. The three goons dragged Neil out of the room, with him resisting as much as he could.
Suddenly, the hot humid air in the cave structure was replaced by an arctic blast. Neil shivered; he was dressed for the sweltering jungle, not the freezing cold. Behind them, the map carved into the wall began to change. Passages, traps, entire rooms disappeared, replaced by different puzzles and rooms to confuse and ensnare unwanted intruders.
The four of them stopped.
“Mmmmm?”
Neil looked around, and was shocked to see the entrance to the temple! Surely he had gone further inside than that. The pillars looked the same, but outside the network of caves, instead of the lush jungle from which he entered, Neil was looking at a vast icy wilderness.
“Looks like you’ll be the last one for a while, junior!”
“Lfff nnmmm?” asked a very confused Neil.
Neil was starting to feel the effects of the freezing cold. Although he could see the opening of the temple, he knew there was no way he’d survive long dressed as he was, bound and gagged. The chances of him being rescued before hypothermia set in were slim. But what were the chances of being rescued from whatever was lurking in the depths of the temple? Neil weighed it up for a split second, and dashed for the exit.
His attempt lasted a second. The goon holding the end of the leash yanked it backwards, sending Neil flying backwards into him. The small of Neil’s back was pulled hard into the groin of the goon. Neil was startled, then confused, then horrified in turn. Startled as he flew backwards. Confused and then horrified by what he felt. Neil expected to feel some part of the goon’s penis, but there was nothing. Who WERE these people?
“Not that way, junior.”
The other two conversed in their own language. The third goon listened and nodded. One of the goons walked towards the wall of the passage, and disappeared.
“WFFFFF?!” Neil cried, having never seen a man vanish into thin air.
“We’re taking a few shortcuts, junior”
The goon holding Neil’s leash walked towards the wall and vanished as well. Neil’s face was rapidly heading for the cave wall. He shook his head and braced for impact.
The impact never came.
“Wmm...”
The goons hadn’t vanished. They’d somehow managed to walk through the walls!
What the FUCK IS THE PLACE, Neil thought to himself as the English speaking goon appeared behind him.
“Much better than going through all the traps, junior”
Neil wondered if he called everyone junior. It was getting really annoying, although it was minor compared to having his arms tied behind his back from wrist to elbows, and his nasty soccer sock being used to gag him.
Neil caught glimpses of the temple as he was dragged down passages and through walls. Tunnels stretching into the distance, no doubt hiding ancient contraptions built long ago to stop intruders stealing whatever the Temple of Ksosc held within.
After a few minutes, they came across a grand door carved into the rock. Etched around the outsides of the door were what appeared to be socks. Dozens of them lined the edges. Whatever was behind this door must be important. The tomb of the ruler of a grand, extinct kingdom. Neil prepared himself for the vast riches he was about to see.
The four of them phased through the door. Past it was a room far smaller than Neil had been expecting. It was lined with pillars. Ornate patterns and shapes were carved into the rock. Words in whatever language was once spoken here. High up was a flat map of the world. Whoever built this place somehow knew the landmass of the planet. Unnatural lights shone from somewhere, seemingly with no source, except one. A blue light shone out of the map of the world, from Ellesmere Island, Canada. The freezing cold air had gone. Now it was a pleasant, unnoticeable temperature. Neil sighed with relief, then panicked as he saw an altar in the center of the room, next to a large bowl on a stand.
The altar was four feet off high, four feet wide, and seven-foot-long. This wasn’t the home of vast treasures, it was home to a strange cult! It was covered in more carvings of socks. Did these weirdos worship them or something, wondered Neil. These carvings seemed to be everywhere significant. In the middle of the carvings of socks was an odd shape, below a crown. Possibly whatever made-up god these goons worshipped. Neil had no idea what the bowl was for. Sacrificial blood? Brainwashing drink?
From the cave walls, two more goons arrived, dressed identically to the three goons that caught Neil. At first glance, they appeared to be flat-chested women, but on reflection, they seemed more like men that had female heads. The first looked middle-aged. The second looked to be around eight or nine. A child of two of the cultists? But at least one of the men seemingly had no genitals. Maybe she wandered in by mistake and she was brainwashed? Or, even worse, caught as Neil had been.
Neil’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice, that seemed to come from everywhere. Neil’s leash was attached to the altar, and all the goons dropped to their knees in worship. The voice made noises. Where the goons seemed to speak in an unknown but human-sounding language, whatever language the voice spoke in sounded raspy and alien. Noises that didn’t seem possible for a human to make. The cultists groveled, hanging on its every word. At every pause, they nodded furiously with a sycophantic agreement. It was impossible to tell what mood the voice was in. Whatever this voice was, whatever being it belonged to, it was clearly in charge. Was this Ksosc?
After talking to the cultists, the voice said two words in English...
“Prepare him!”
The voice became silent. The bowl was suddenly filled with miles of 2mm wide, orange, PVC coated steel wire, and pairs of scissors.
Neil knew what was coming. He protested as much as he could, but the socks kept him bound and gagged. The cultists descended upon him like ravenous lions. Two took coils of wire, two took scissors, and the fifth held Neil firm as the other four set about their unholy work. The “men” took the upper body, the “females” the lower body.
Neil felt his arms and ankles being brutally tied with the wire. His forearms were bound in between the socks. His clothes were being cut to shreds and removed. The cultist cutting the clothes on his lower body sat down, squeezing his legs together between her thighs and the young girl tied his ankles with strength totally out of proportion to her tiny frame. When all that could be seen of Neil’s forearms was wire and socks, a sock was untied, to be replaced by more wire. The five worked with ruthless, machine-like efficiency. They seemed less like humans and more like zombies; absolutely soulless, incapable of emotion, with a single purpose. Unlike zombies, their purpose was to unquestioningly obey their voiceless master.
The cultists cutting Neil’s clothes stopped only to cut the wire being used to bind Neil, before going back to remove his clothing. Their thin nimble fingers were relentless, trussing Neil up in a painful embrace. Whatever these cultists were, they were definitely not human. Any humanity within these five has been ruthlessly extinguished long ago. No human could tie anyone up with tightly; even the sickest, most depraved human would not have been capable of being this merciless, or able to carry on despite the gut-wrenching noises of pity from Neil. As well as having no emotion, the cultists seemed inhumanly strong, easily able to resists what little movements Neil could make before being crushed by miles of wire. The cultists worked with a speed that suggested Neil was far from the first victim.
After to Neil what felt like three lifetimes but in reality was only a few minutes, he was bound beyond what he thought possible. Neil had no knowledge of bondage beyond what he had seen in films; wrists behind the back with a few turns of rope or tape and a simple cleave gag or a single piece of tape. Neil on the other hand...
He was standing completely naked, his clothes in tatters on the ground. Even his shoes and been cut instead of untied. His arms had been practically mummified in the wire, from wrists to above his elbows. Instead of one continuous long length of wire, it had been cut at countless intervals; ten turns, then cinched. There were a few gaps in the wire here or there between the loops of wire. These gaps had his skin bulging over the tightness of the wire. A wire had been tied under his armpits, and that wire was tied to the wire above his elbows to stop it from slipping, as if that was a possibility of being tied that tightly. Each thumb and finger and been tied to its corresponding digit. Even his palms had been tied together. His legs were tied the same way as his arms. Mummified from the bottom of his ankle to below his knees, then above his knees to just under his butt cheeks. Also like his arms, instead of one continuous long wire, countless short lengths of wire had been used.
This would be a ludicrous amount of bondage more most people, but the cultists clearly didn’t want to let their master down. As well as having his arms and legs mummified, his arms had been tied to his body. Again, many small coils had been used instead of one continuous one. Starting just above his ass and going up to the bottom of his shoulders, Neil’s upper body was mummified in wire, crushing his arms into his back practically airtight. All that was exposed were the tops of his shoulders and his nipples. Not that his nipples had been spared. The wire had been tied horizontally and vertically around them, squeezing and squishing them. All the wire wrapped around his upper body had been cinched down both sides of his arms as well as between his arms and his back, ensuring Neil couldn’t move his now useless upper limbs a single millimeter. He could only move at the waist, knees and feet.
Even that minuscule amount of freedom was taken away. Neil was forced to sit down by the “men”. The young “girl” took some more wire and tied Neils raunchy bare feet together. Ten coils were tied horizontally and six vertically round his feet, exactly halfway between his ankles and the base of his toes. She then tied the base of his big toes together in the same way. He giggled into his gag as the wire was forced between his big and second toes. The laughter turned to howls of pain as the wire was cinched. Immediately his toes went pink, then purple as the blood flow was trapped.
While the “girl” was playing with Neil’s feet, the middle-aged “woman” had decided Neil’s cock and balls needed some attention. “She” pulled his left testicle as far as she could away from the base of his cock, and tied it tightly with wire. Using the same length of wire, she did the same with the right testicle, then his tied nut sack was pushed back up towards his cock before being lashed mercilessly to the base of the shaft of his cock. Yet more wire was tied around the middle of his flaccid cock, then that was held flat and stretched as long as possible before being tied to the wire just above his waist and cinched between his body and his cock. Neil screamed into his gag both in pain and embarrassment at his dick and balls being molested by a middle-aged “woman”.
Two of the “male” cultists picked up Neil and placed him face down on the altar. Neil sobbed into his gross sock gag as his legs were bent backwards at the knee. He wasn’t very bendy. Unsatisfied, his bent legs were held and his thighs were lifted off the altar. Being bent at the waist, Neil’s legs were pulled further and further, until his heels were pressed against his forearms. The cultists held him in place as the middle-aged “woman” tied his ankles to his body and his cock. The old “man” took over, and cinched the hogtie wire at his arms, body and cock. Another “male” cultist tied his thighs and shins together with three lengths of wire, while the “girl” tied his big toes to his elbows before looping wires around both his little toes and tying them to his wire-wrapped nipples, forcing Neil to splay his toes as wide as he could to stop his nipples burning in agony.
Neil was in hell. Mummified in thin wire with insane tightness, then hogtied far more strictly than his body was capable of sustaining. It was inevitable something would give, and it wouldn’t be the steel core wire. As the cultists left Neil in his misery to see if anyone else had fallen foul of the temple, Neil felt something pop. His left shoulder had separated. Shortly after, his right shoulder was forced from its socket. Although he didn’t notice, he developed four stress factors in three of the discs in his lower spine from the hogtie. His entire body was wracked in pain. The wire bit deeply into his skin and the cultists seemed to find several pinch spots. He couldn’t move a muscle. He hurt so much he forgot all about his rancid sweaty sock filling his mouth to its limit. What confused Neil is that, compared to his bondage, his gag was nowhere near as severe. Sure, his jaw ached, and the taste had made him want to be sick, but he was certain the cultists could have done something if they wanted to.
His mind drifted back to his chance meeting with the old man at the bar. How could he believe the obvious bullshit about a temple full of treasure? HE must have started the rumour to lure people like him to the temple. But what would happen to him next? What is the goal of the cultists? Who are they, and how? And how the fuck had the whole temple moved from Cambodia to north Canada?
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Author's note 1 - The questions at the end all have answers in my head, but I prefer supernatural stuff to not have origin stories, and to just 'be'. Not everything has to have an answer.
Note 2 - Why don't online grammar checks appreciate the majesty of the Oxford comma?
Note 3 - If I can find both appropriate pictures and the time, I'd like to illustrate the bondage in this chapter in my shitty crude paint style.
Note 4 - By the end, this will be like a holiday for Neil compared to what is in store.
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“NMMMM!” Neil cried into the mass of sweaty cotton crammed and held in his mouth. A lead was attached to his collar. The three goons dragged Neil out of the room, with him resisting as much as he could.
Suddenly, the hot humid air in the cave structure was replaced by an arctic blast. Neil shivered; he was dressed for the sweltering jungle, not the freezing cold. Behind them, the map carved into the wall began to change. Passages, traps, entire rooms disappeared, replaced by different puzzles and rooms to confuse and ensnare unwanted intruders.
The four of them stopped.
“Mmmmm?”
Neil looked around, and was shocked to see the entrance to the temple! Surely he had gone further inside than that. The pillars looked the same, but outside the network of caves, instead of the lush jungle from which he entered, Neil was looking at a vast icy wilderness.
“Looks like you’ll be the last one for a while, junior!”
“Lfff nnmmm?” asked a very confused Neil.
Neil was starting to feel the effects of the freezing cold. Although he could see the opening of the temple, he knew there was no way he’d survive long dressed as he was, bound and gagged. The chances of him being rescued before hypothermia set in were slim. But what were the chances of being rescued from whatever was lurking in the depths of the temple? Neil weighed it up for a split second, and dashed for the exit.
His attempt lasted a second. The goon holding the end of the leash yanked it backwards, sending Neil flying backwards into him. The small of Neil’s back was pulled hard into the groin of the goon. Neil was startled, then confused, then horrified in turn. Startled as he flew backwards. Confused and then horrified by what he felt. Neil expected to feel some part of the goon’s penis, but there was nothing. Who WERE these people?
“Not that way, junior.”
The other two conversed in their own language. The third goon listened and nodded. One of the goons walked towards the wall of the passage, and disappeared.
“WFFFFF?!” Neil cried, having never seen a man vanish into thin air.
“We’re taking a few shortcuts, junior”
The goon holding Neil’s leash walked towards the wall and vanished as well. Neil’s face was rapidly heading for the cave wall. He shook his head and braced for impact.
The impact never came.
“Wmm...”
The goons hadn’t vanished. They’d somehow managed to walk through the walls!
What the FUCK IS THE PLACE, Neil thought to himself as the English speaking goon appeared behind him.
“Much better than going through all the traps, junior”
Neil wondered if he called everyone junior. It was getting really annoying, although it was minor compared to having his arms tied behind his back from wrist to elbows, and his nasty soccer sock being used to gag him.
Neil caught glimpses of the temple as he was dragged down passages and through walls. Tunnels stretching into the distance, no doubt hiding ancient contraptions built long ago to stop intruders stealing whatever the Temple of Ksosc held within.
After a few minutes, they came across a grand door carved into the rock. Etched around the outsides of the door were what appeared to be socks. Dozens of them lined the edges. Whatever was behind this door must be important. The tomb of the ruler of a grand, extinct kingdom. Neil prepared himself for the vast riches he was about to see.
The four of them phased through the door. Past it was a room far smaller than Neil had been expecting. It was lined with pillars. Ornate patterns and shapes were carved into the rock. Words in whatever language was once spoken here. High up was a flat map of the world. Whoever built this place somehow knew the landmass of the planet. Unnatural lights shone from somewhere, seemingly with no source, except one. A blue light shone out of the map of the world, from Ellesmere Island, Canada. The freezing cold air had gone. Now it was a pleasant, unnoticeable temperature. Neil sighed with relief, then panicked as he saw an altar in the center of the room, next to a large bowl on a stand.
The altar was four feet off high, four feet wide, and seven-foot-long. This wasn’t the home of vast treasures, it was home to a strange cult! It was covered in more carvings of socks. Did these weirdos worship them or something, wondered Neil. These carvings seemed to be everywhere significant. In the middle of the carvings of socks was an odd shape, below a crown. Possibly whatever made-up god these goons worshipped. Neil had no idea what the bowl was for. Sacrificial blood? Brainwashing drink?
From the cave walls, two more goons arrived, dressed identically to the three goons that caught Neil. At first glance, they appeared to be flat-chested women, but on reflection, they seemed more like men that had female heads. The first looked middle-aged. The second looked to be around eight or nine. A child of two of the cultists? But at least one of the men seemingly had no genitals. Maybe she wandered in by mistake and she was brainwashed? Or, even worse, caught as Neil had been.
Neil’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice, that seemed to come from everywhere. Neil’s leash was attached to the altar, and all the goons dropped to their knees in worship. The voice made noises. Where the goons seemed to speak in an unknown but human-sounding language, whatever language the voice spoke in sounded raspy and alien. Noises that didn’t seem possible for a human to make. The cultists groveled, hanging on its every word. At every pause, they nodded furiously with a sycophantic agreement. It was impossible to tell what mood the voice was in. Whatever this voice was, whatever being it belonged to, it was clearly in charge. Was this Ksosc?
After talking to the cultists, the voice said two words in English...
“Prepare him!”
The voice became silent. The bowl was suddenly filled with miles of 2mm wide, orange, PVC coated steel wire, and pairs of scissors.
Neil knew what was coming. He protested as much as he could, but the socks kept him bound and gagged. The cultists descended upon him like ravenous lions. Two took coils of wire, two took scissors, and the fifth held Neil firm as the other four set about their unholy work. The “men” took the upper body, the “females” the lower body.
Neil felt his arms and ankles being brutally tied with the wire. His forearms were bound in between the socks. His clothes were being cut to shreds and removed. The cultist cutting the clothes on his lower body sat down, squeezing his legs together between her thighs and the young girl tied his ankles with strength totally out of proportion to her tiny frame. When all that could be seen of Neil’s forearms was wire and socks, a sock was untied, to be replaced by more wire. The five worked with ruthless, machine-like efficiency. They seemed less like humans and more like zombies; absolutely soulless, incapable of emotion, with a single purpose. Unlike zombies, their purpose was to unquestioningly obey their voiceless master.
The cultists cutting Neil’s clothes stopped only to cut the wire being used to bind Neil, before going back to remove his clothing. Their thin nimble fingers were relentless, trussing Neil up in a painful embrace. Whatever these cultists were, they were definitely not human. Any humanity within these five has been ruthlessly extinguished long ago. No human could tie anyone up with tightly; even the sickest, most depraved human would not have been capable of being this merciless, or able to carry on despite the gut-wrenching noises of pity from Neil. As well as having no emotion, the cultists seemed inhumanly strong, easily able to resists what little movements Neil could make before being crushed by miles of wire. The cultists worked with a speed that suggested Neil was far from the first victim.
After to Neil what felt like three lifetimes but in reality was only a few minutes, he was bound beyond what he thought possible. Neil had no knowledge of bondage beyond what he had seen in films; wrists behind the back with a few turns of rope or tape and a simple cleave gag or a single piece of tape. Neil on the other hand...
He was standing completely naked, his clothes in tatters on the ground. Even his shoes and been cut instead of untied. His arms had been practically mummified in the wire, from wrists to above his elbows. Instead of one continuous long length of wire, it had been cut at countless intervals; ten turns, then cinched. There were a few gaps in the wire here or there between the loops of wire. These gaps had his skin bulging over the tightness of the wire. A wire had been tied under his armpits, and that wire was tied to the wire above his elbows to stop it from slipping, as if that was a possibility of being tied that tightly. Each thumb and finger and been tied to its corresponding digit. Even his palms had been tied together. His legs were tied the same way as his arms. Mummified from the bottom of his ankle to below his knees, then above his knees to just under his butt cheeks. Also like his arms, instead of one continuous long wire, countless short lengths of wire had been used.
This would be a ludicrous amount of bondage more most people, but the cultists clearly didn’t want to let their master down. As well as having his arms and legs mummified, his arms had been tied to his body. Again, many small coils had been used instead of one continuous one. Starting just above his ass and going up to the bottom of his shoulders, Neil’s upper body was mummified in wire, crushing his arms into his back practically airtight. All that was exposed were the tops of his shoulders and his nipples. Not that his nipples had been spared. The wire had been tied horizontally and vertically around them, squeezing and squishing them. All the wire wrapped around his upper body had been cinched down both sides of his arms as well as between his arms and his back, ensuring Neil couldn’t move his now useless upper limbs a single millimeter. He could only move at the waist, knees and feet.
Even that minuscule amount of freedom was taken away. Neil was forced to sit down by the “men”. The young “girl” took some more wire and tied Neils raunchy bare feet together. Ten coils were tied horizontally and six vertically round his feet, exactly halfway between his ankles and the base of his toes. She then tied the base of his big toes together in the same way. He giggled into his gag as the wire was forced between his big and second toes. The laughter turned to howls of pain as the wire was cinched. Immediately his toes went pink, then purple as the blood flow was trapped.
While the “girl” was playing with Neil’s feet, the middle-aged “woman” had decided Neil’s cock and balls needed some attention. “She” pulled his left testicle as far as she could away from the base of his cock, and tied it tightly with wire. Using the same length of wire, she did the same with the right testicle, then his tied nut sack was pushed back up towards his cock before being lashed mercilessly to the base of the shaft of his cock. Yet more wire was tied around the middle of his flaccid cock, then that was held flat and stretched as long as possible before being tied to the wire just above his waist and cinched between his body and his cock. Neil screamed into his gag both in pain and embarrassment at his dick and balls being molested by a middle-aged “woman”.
Two of the “male” cultists picked up Neil and placed him face down on the altar. Neil sobbed into his gross sock gag as his legs were bent backwards at the knee. He wasn’t very bendy. Unsatisfied, his bent legs were held and his thighs were lifted off the altar. Being bent at the waist, Neil’s legs were pulled further and further, until his heels were pressed against his forearms. The cultists held him in place as the middle-aged “woman” tied his ankles to his body and his cock. The old “man” took over, and cinched the hogtie wire at his arms, body and cock. Another “male” cultist tied his thighs and shins together with three lengths of wire, while the “girl” tied his big toes to his elbows before looping wires around both his little toes and tying them to his wire-wrapped nipples, forcing Neil to splay his toes as wide as he could to stop his nipples burning in agony.
Neil was in hell. Mummified in thin wire with insane tightness, then hogtied far more strictly than his body was capable of sustaining. It was inevitable something would give, and it wouldn’t be the steel core wire. As the cultists left Neil in his misery to see if anyone else had fallen foul of the temple, Neil felt something pop. His left shoulder had separated. Shortly after, his right shoulder was forced from its socket. Although he didn’t notice, he developed four stress factors in three of the discs in his lower spine from the hogtie. His entire body was wracked in pain. The wire bit deeply into his skin and the cultists seemed to find several pinch spots. He couldn’t move a muscle. He hurt so much he forgot all about his rancid sweaty sock filling his mouth to its limit. What confused Neil is that, compared to his bondage, his gag was nowhere near as severe. Sure, his jaw ached, and the taste had made him want to be sick, but he was certain the cultists could have done something if they wanted to.
His mind drifted back to his chance meeting with the old man at the bar. How could he believe the obvious bullshit about a temple full of treasure? HE must have started the rumour to lure people like him to the temple. But what would happen to him next? What is the goal of the cultists? Who are they, and how? And how the fuck had the whole temple moved from Cambodia to north Canada?
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Author's note 1 - The questions at the end all have answers in my head, but I prefer supernatural stuff to not have origin stories, and to just 'be'. Not everything has to have an answer.
Note 2 - Why don't online grammar checks appreciate the majesty of the Oxford comma?
Note 3 - If I can find both appropriate pictures and the time, I'd like to illustrate the bondage in this chapter in my shitty crude paint style.
Note 4 - By the end, this will be like a holiday for Neil compared to what is in store.
"Wait, why are you taking off my socks? My mouth? But I've worn them all day and they're all sweaty and they're far too big to fi-mmmmpgffph!
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harukatsukino
- Forum Contributer
- Posts: 56
- Joined: 4 years ago
your story never disappoints! my favorite part is the part when the socks are replaced with wires, and when the "female" cultist tie his dick to his upper waist, and the entire hogtie and the last part was also really hot, it just gets hotter and hotter as it goes to the end.
i really love the sense of danger in your story, very creative! most stories have american suburb background and repetitive, your story is a roller coaster to read, and gets to the point without being too long. The overkill binding and the helplessness of the victim is also really hot.
it's like a hangover at the end, with his gag very simple contrasting his body, but I am very happy with how you end this one (or maybe you would continue?). i would love to read any stories you created. it is just so great! love it!!!!
i really love the sense of danger in your story, very creative! most stories have american suburb background and repetitive, your story is a roller coaster to read, and gets to the point without being too long. The overkill binding and the helplessness of the victim is also really hot.
it's like a hangover at the end, with his gag very simple contrasting his body, but I am very happy with how you end this one (or maybe you would continue?). i would love to read any stories you created. it is just so great! love it!!!!