sock slave boy wrote: ↑1 month ago
This episode is quite frustrating for me, I have a little trouble understanding where Ethan is, do we agree that he is under the RISK table?
Hey buddy-boi. I know, it sucks. I regularly run my chapters through Google/Bing Translate to see how they come out for you and some of my other francophone readers, and the translations are really terrible. I would post French versions of these stories here, but I've specifically been asked not to, as some members of the forum staff are not fluent enough in French to properly moderate content in our language.
As frustrating as the translations are, I'm glad to confirm to you that indeed, Ethan is under the table where "Axis & Allies" is being played. He is hogtied on the floor, facing Mitch's sneakered feet.
Also, I very much doubt Joshua realises he's being tormented with his own smelly shoes.
sock slave boy wrote: ↑1 month ago
On the other hand, I wonder what Nick is finally doing in this room.
This is probably the part that the translation screwed up the most.
Nick isn't in the bedroom. Only the boots here was wearing during the day are.
The next chapter should clarify things quite a bit for you and everyone else
Je suis heureux que tu aies pris le temps de partager tes doutes et tes questionnements quant à la compréhension traduite du récit. N'hésite pas à poser des questions quand tu en as. Il me fait plaisir d'éclaircir ta compréhension, surtout après avoir vu de mes propres yeux la médiocreté (et j'en passe !) que nous offre les outils de traduction en ligne.
bondagefreak wrote: ↑1 month ago
Hey buddy-boi. I know, it sucks. I regularly run my chapters through Google/Bing Translate to see how they come out for you and some of my other francophone readers, and the translations are really terrible. I would post French versions of these stories here, but I've specifically been asked not to, as some members of the forum staff are not fluent enough in French to properly moderate content in our language.
Vu que tu es un "membre honoraire" sur ce forum, et toutes tes oeuvres sont déjà en anglais, je ne comprends pas pourquoi c'est inderdit de publier les tradutions de tes histoires en français. Tu es fidèle, donc à mon avis c'est juste bizarre que ce c'est pas permet.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Translation: Given that you're an honorary member on this forum, and all your work is already in English, I don't understand why publishing French translation of your stories is banned. You're trusted, so in my opinion it's just odd that it's not allowed
@OrdinaryWorld That would open the door for others to do the same and present the moderating staff with a serious dilemma. Given that it would be unfair to allow a single member to post content in French and ban other francophones from doing so, I think the staff has made a good call in asking us to keep French to a minimum on here.
Besides, though English and French have evolved together for centuries and are as close as two languages with unrelated roots can be (40% of the English vocabulary comes from French), allowing French on here would open a Pandora's box in that users would eventually start posting in German and then Spanish, and so on.
bondagefreak wrote: ↑1 month ago@OrdinaryWorld That would open the door for others to do the same and present the moderating staff with a serious dilemma. Given that it would be unfair to allow a single member to post content in French and ban other francophones from doing so, I think the staff has made a good call in asking us to keep French to a minimum on here.
Besides, though English and French have evolved together for centuries and are as close as two languages with unrelated roots can be (40% of the English vocabulary comes from French), allowing French on here would open a Pandora's box in that users would eventually start posting in German and then Spanish, and so on.
I honestly think the staff made the right call.
I agree, moreover it allows more direct contact with you, since you are not against the idea of being asked questions
I didn't realize that our protagonist can be this mean to Josh... But since he is on the safe side, I think there is no harm in forcing his buddy to smell some masculine odour. And those police boots look very promising....
Gotta love some sleeping bag bondage. It's been a little while
While I'd love the bondage those police boots would be far too much for me. Moreso with a gas mask involved.
On the matter of languages, it is a shame you can't conveniently post in multiple languages, but realistically on a forum this size it wouldn't be practical to have the variety in moderators needed to moderate the majority of languages that would likely pop up, and one person being allowed to post in other languages would likely open Pandora's box.
It's a shame but it's probably the best decision for the forum.
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THE BIRTHDAY SURPRISE THE APOCALYPSE SURVIVAL STORY
Those of you paying attention might remember something I wrote in one of my earlier journal entries, about how I had a thing - lets just call it that - for watching others choking, gagging or complaining about my hunky husband's pungent footwear. Don't ask why, but few things turned me on as much. So yes, Nick pulling off his infernally reeking police boots and unwittingly leaving them in the same room as poor helpless Josh was basically a godsend for me.
I knew by their haphazard placement on the other side of the bedroom that his intent was free of nefarious motives and that it simply came down to a matter of blatant carelessness. Frankly, that just made it ten times hotter. At least for me it did.
I knew my husband well enough to know that he'd given no second thought to poor Josh as he pulled those huge, fuming, heavily insulated winter police boots off and walked out of the bedroom.
Nick quite simply just didn't care, and nary a thought had been given to the fact that his steaming hot boots - which he wore every single day of the year - would soon have the entire bedroom positively reeking of the same tremendously severe odour that afflicted his freakishly oversized soles.
I couldn't stand the stench of them, but I also quite honestly couldn't believe my luck. On one side of the room stood my husband's positively monstrous pair of putrid police boots, and on the other side of it lay my fully mummified, strapped down, gagged and blissfully helpless friend.
I'd have been turned on big time had Ethan been the one in those bags, but the fact that Joshua was the one trapped in there and breathing through a gas mask was even more exciting to me.
You see, back when we initially all moved to Bob's place I was genuinely worried that Josh would somehow manage to steal Nick away from me. In hindsight, the prospect might seem a bit ludicrous considering Nick generally couldn't stand the guy, but that didn't change the fact that Josh was overly flirtatious and very much used to getting what he wanted. Add to that the fact that the blond beta-jock had previously made known to me his strong attraction to Nick and that he considered me as being extremely lucky to be owned and bedded by this particularly hot specimen of man-hunk. In short, my initial concerns felt warranted.
Of course, Josh - though chaotic and a tad unpredictable at times - was more loyal than he got credit for and never actually tried working his charms on my husband. Not that I know of, anyway. It probably also helped that he was genuinely put off and downright horrified by Nick's - and Zack's - chronic foot odour problem very early on after our move.
Josh had a thing for footwear but was outright repulsed by the scents that some of our more smelly-footed cabinmates could generate. I couldn't blame him. Nick pretty much reigned supreme in that category, so it came as little surprise that Josh quickly lost interest, even though he found the man irrefutably alluring.
In any case, I'll admit that for a brief moment there, Joshua's filtered coughs and muffled laments made me hesitate. I actually considered stashing my husband's boots in the closet where they should have been. But then I thought about everything I'd been through earlier that day, recalled all those times Josh had had fun at my expense and gave thought to the fact that he'd go out of his fuckin' way to torment me if our roles had been reversed.
As a matter of fact, I knew Josh well enough to know that he wouldn't have left the room before personally securing my defenceless inhaler tube directly into the depths of his own funky shoe had he been one of the guys in charge of my hazing.
So no, as guilty and as tentative as I was about torturing him with the sickeningly sweltering pair of thickly insulated police boots that already drove him crazy even from the other side of the bedroom, I wasn't about to let this sweet opportunity pass me up.
I marched over to my blond lover's colossal boots, turned my face away to escape the unbearably pungent fumes spilling out of their seemingly bottomless chasms and disdainfully grabbed the outline of their very fat, gaping mouths before lifting them off the floor and quietly making my way back to Josh's bedridden form.
I placed the boots down not far from the dangling end of the vulnerable breathing tube, and not five seconds passed that Joshua was already succumbing to the rather deadly cocktail of stomach-churning aromas spilling out of Nick's hefty monsters.
I too found myself unable to endure the overpowering funk and had to cover my nose and turn my face away from them several times. The stench of rotten eggs, cheese and hot leather soon had my eyes watering over and judging from the looks of it, my friend was not enjoying the proximity of Nick's boots either.
The discordant cacophony of swooshing nylon filled my ears as the immensely bloated grub groaned and struggled against the numerous gurney straps, much like a worm on a fishing hook.
Poor Josh wasn't going anywhere, and neither were Nick's boots.
I actually contemplated leaving him like that, but then remembered those numerous times he'd had fun at my expense, not to mention that one time a few years ago when he'd basically forced me to rim his hunky ex-roommate, Kyle. I'm sure most of you remember that. So did I. How could I forget?
So yeah, though it slightly shames me to admit this, I took a very sizeable amount of perverse joy in gently lifting the end of my still very much oblivious and undoubtedly confused friend's breathing tube and slowly dropping it into the harrowingly deep chasm of one of my own husband's inexplicably puke-inducing police boots. The ensuing spectacle did not disappoint.
"Uggghmmph! Mmmggphh! Mmmggphh!" poor Josh repeatedly cried out, coughing uncontrollably into his gas mask and choking rather violently from the severity of his stench-induced panic.
The bed squeaked and shook as its crazed occupant convulsed and struggled to escape, but the broad medical straps did their part and proved more than adequate in keeping the uncooperative host from leaving the safety of the medical stretcher.
The fat sleeping bag worm coughed and struggled with more urgency and vigour than I thought it could muster - a testament to the strength and stamina of the athletic beta-jock it had recently ingested.
Josh turned his sleeping bagged head away from the side of the bed, no doubt clueing into the fact that his breathing tube had accidentally "fallen" into something smelly. His valiant efforts would've probably succeded had Nick's boots not been so tall, but unfortunately for him, even his most frantic attempts at twisting his loft-impeeded head around came short of freeing his breathing tube from the indescribably putrid chasm of my husband's fuming boot. In other words, there was absolutely no escape for him.
I left him like that; struggling inside those bags, choking into his gag and drawing whiffs from out of Nick's positively nightmarish police boot. He deserved as much, and I thought that a fitting fate for him.
So long, Josh.
Time to get something to eat.
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I suppose the question is yes, Josh would've put Steven's tube down his own shoes, but would he have put the tube down Nick's police boots if the roles were reversed? Perhaps even he would've seen it as a step too far.
So Steven is allowed to roam freely around the house now and is up to no good… I have an inkling that this may not last for too long. It’s great to see how devious he has become.
Hi there sir, plenty of fun read. Not sure if I am brave enough to be breathing in Nick's smelly boots. All that convulsing made me think if I wanted Josh's place. Hahah and love the way how you ended this chapter. So long Josh. Time to get something to eat. It was nonchalant and like he was right on schedule for his meal
Okay, so in the context of the story, I 100% agree this is Josh's own fault since he pulled that stunt on Steven with the rimming. Josh had this coming. He can enjoy the smell for a couple of hours
If we weren't in a story, I'd be concerned by Steven's action of leaving his friend behind in this condition. Story or not, my mind always thinks about what could go wrong leaving someone gagged and forced to smell stomach turning stuff on top of it. Like what if Josh was to throw up and ended up choking to death on it. God I hate that my brain doesn't allow me to fully turn off reality but in a way I guess that's a good thing since I am very careful and cautious when I have someone tied and gagged IRL.
Steven certainly has a bit of a mean streak in him, doesn't he! Definitely feeling bad for Josh, trapped in all those sleeping bags with that gas mask would definitely be activating my claustrophobia!
gag1195 wrote: ↑4 weeks ago
Definitely feeling bad for Josh, trapped in all those sleeping bags with that gas mask would definitely be activating my claustrophobia!
Ah, don't feel too bad for him. He may be Steven's friend, but he's arguably done a lot worse in B&G. God knows he wouldn't hesitate to have his way with Steven should their roles ever be reversed, which I assure you they usually are! Also serves Josh right for fawning over Nick back in B&G.
Last edited by bondagefreak4 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
32 POLL PARTICIPANTS SO FAR BUT ONLY 15 PUBLIC ANSWERS POLL RESULTS SO FAR: A PERFECT 50/50 TIE
HAD YOU BEEN HOGTIED IN THE CLOSET WITH ETHAN & STEVEN, WHICH OF THE TWO IN-STORY
ITEMS USED BY JEREMY WOULD YOU HAVE PREFERRED BEING TEASED WITH & FORCED TO SNIFF?
I for sure voted the Jock pouch! I didn’t care who it was and it makes it hotter it’s Ryan’s! Sometimes you need a good “gas mask” to wrap around your face! As much as I love the funky trainers and the idea of it tied to a face…. Nobody washes a jock, the sweat built in… tmi… maybe…. It I’m feeling… “ballsy”… honestly “strapped” in to these puns
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THE BIRTHDAY SURPRISE THE APOCALYPSE SURVIVAL STORY
Satisfied with the knowledge that Josh was left basking in the revoltingly putrescent presence of my very own foul-footed husband's infamously reeking police boots, I exited the bedroom and made sure to close the door behind me so that no one would hear his gagged screams echoing within. I didn't want Josh being freed and I sure as hell didn't want anyone pulling his breathing tube out of my husband's boot. Not for another hour or two, mind you.
Feeling the pangs of hunger in my stomach, I quickly readjusted my stubborn arousal so as to make the bulge in my pants a little more discreet and then happily made my way over towards the source of the festive cacophony.
Though the kitchen was basically right next to the raucous open area living room, I wasn't in the immediate view of its occupants, and as such, was afforded at least some level of privacy as I fished out some of the homemade bread I'd made and began putting myself together a pair of tomato sandwiches.
The obnoxiously loud cacophony of booming laughs and loud voices - particularly coming from Mitch, Zack, Bob, Ryan and yes, even Jeremy - must've masked the sound of approaching footsteps. Either that or I was too focused on making my sandwiches and humming this particularly annoying tune that kept playing over and over in my head.
I ended up quite literally gasping in surprise when a hard lump suddenly pressed itself against my buttocks.
"Oop, sorry about that. Didn't mean to startle you. Just trying to grab a few of those chip bowls." Corey quickly apologised; the permanently obvious and very sizeable protrusion in his satin shorts accidentally pressing against my butt and upper back as he snook up behind me and tried reaching up for one of the kitchen cabinets located high above my head.
I blushed a bit and chuckled in slight unease.
"Oh, haha. That's alright, Sir. I just...didn't hear you coming. Here, let me get that for you." I immediately offered, scurrying over towards the little wooden bench Nick had previously built me and reaching into the stupidly high cupboard where the plastic chip bowls were kept.
Corey watched as I then eagerly reached into the more accessible snack cupboard and pulled out a variety of bags - nachos, crisps, Doritos, pretzels, you name it - all of which had been collected during recent and not-so-recent raids.
"Sir, d'you want me to fill a few bowls up and bring them to your table?" I asked, acting on impulse and instinctively assuming a servile role.
"Haha. No, that's alright. I think I should be able to handle it from here." the shaggy-haired heartthrob chuckled, his handsome features lighting up with an appreciative smirk as he opened a bag of barbecue crisps and began pouring them into a set of brightly coloured plastic bowls.
I blushed and quietly went back to making my sandwiches, but when I opened the fridge door and reached in for the mayonnaise, my heart immediately sank upon noticing the two apple pies I'd made; both of which looked a bit worse for wear and downright burnt to the point of being inedible.
Corey must've heard the groan of disappointment in my voice, 'cause he quickly turned around to glance at the source of my disappointment and drew air in through his gritted teeth before issuing an apology.
"Aww yeah, sorry about that." he once again apologised, slowly making his way over towards me and lifting a hand up to scratch his shaggy dome - a sign of obvious unease. "I...sorta forgot to tell Jeremy about those." came the sound of his regretful explanation.
Had Jeremy or one of the other dependents been responsible for the burnt pies, I would've been pissed and would've undoubtedly given the concerned party a veritable earful as to the time and work that went into them, not to mention the limited availability of some of the ingredients they were composed of! Fortunately for them, Corey was the only one to blame.
"Oh, no don't worry about it, Sir. It's so easy to make. The oven sorta acts up sometimes, so they probably would've come out a bit burnt even had I been watching them the whole time. I'll make some more pies tomorrow. Really, don't worry about it." I lied, purposefully doing my best to relieve some of the muscular stallion's outwardly transparent guilt.
In his defence, the buff goliath didn't seem all that convinced by my showy display of forgiveness. He apologised a second time and slowly made his way back to the living room carrying two bowls of barbecue crisps, but I could tell from his facial expression that he didn't quite buy into my lame attempts at relieving him of his guilt. I guess he was smart enough to figure out that I was intentionally brushing it off for the sake of limiting his uneasiness.
Either way, even though he was at fault for having forgotten to tell Jeremy about the pies I'd put into the oven prior to my arrest, there was simply NO way I could ever be upset with him, much less hold a grudge against him. I really liked Corey way too much for that, and, truth be known, he was always super nice and gentle with me.
In any case, I ended up eating by the kitchen counter and chugging my sandwiches down with a refreshingly cold glass of lemonade during the minutes that followed. Of course, much to my own slight annoyance, my improvised and hastily concocted meal was interrupted when a second visitor - this time Brad - made an unannounced appearance into what I perceived as being my kitchen; something which once again led me to show my subservience and willingness to serve.
"Hello, Sir." I greeted the man, addressing the stunningly alluring hunk in an unmistakably respectful manner and lowering my head ever so slightly in a display of open deference.
"Can I get you anything? Would you like something to drink?" I asked, putting my sandwich down and finding myself wanting to anticipate his needs even as he willfully ignored me and slowly scanned the large refrigerator's cluttered interior.
Brad didn't even acknowledge my presence or cast me a courteous glance before ordering me to pour him a beer and smugly strutting back to the festive living room. Even as I stood there, thinking to myself what a giant cocky prick he was, I just couldn't help but notice his muscular legs and the very heavily beat-up pair of retro hightops that currently adorned his very broad and very shapely bare soles - the same stupendously large pair of eye-wateringly funky trainers Jeremy had forced me to sniff and gotten me to cum to, not once but twice earlier that day.
It's only upon noticing Brad's shoes, scampering over to the dining room table, pouring him a tall glass of cold brew, and then circling around to the other table and catering to everyone's needs and desires that I realised just how much of a lasting impact the day's earlier events would have on me.
Serving Andrew, Corey and Mike was especially weird, as was asking Ryan if he wanted anything to drink.
Corey had manhandled me; cornered me against the wall with his own two giant hands and physically placed me under arrest by securing my puny wrists with a pair of massive zip ties before personally escorting me away to the seclusion of Andrew's bedroom. Big Mike had used his own freakishly oversized palms, not only to impede my and Ethan's ability to communicate with each other, but also to stop me from objecting to my fate and prevent me from making my plight heard - all the while unwittingly smothering me to the brink of unconsciousness as he did so. Suffice it to say, I would never see him or Corey quite in the same light again.
The case for Andrew was arguably even more awkward in that he'd not only played a pivotal role in forcibly restraining me, but also taken things a step further by peeling his own immensely sweaty, infamously reeking socks off and forcing one of them inside my mouth so as to prevent me from warning Josh or getting a cry for help out.
I spent quite literally the entire afternoon chewing on his feverishly strong-smelling toe-scented bundle and downright losing my mind over the maddening state of speechlessness it imposed on me.
Yes, Andrew was substantially stronger and a lot taller and heavier than I was, but keep in mind, he wasn't my Master, nor was he my senior, age-wise. How the hell was I going to keep the awkwardness out of our future interactions after having spent nearly an entire day sucking on one of the hairy-legged gamer-nerd's week-old stink bombs?
How was I supposed to look Ryan in the eye after having been forced to sniff up and cum to the scent of his potent sack-scented jock-pouch? How on earth was I not supposed to feel weak-kneed and inferior in Brad's domineering presence after having had my face forcefully buried deep inside those huge, funky-as-hell retro hightops of his? How?!
Anyway, my foray into catering to the needs of the busy living room's cheerful occupants resulted in my scurrying back and forth between the kitchen and the two occupied tables before I finally set my gaze on one of the only guys who hadn't requested anything.
"Uhm, Master?" I quietly whispered, speaking to Shawn and gently placing a hand on one of his very round and very sizeable shoulders. "Are you sure I can't get you anything? A coke? A beer? Some ice cream perhaps?" I meekly inquired, addressing him in a more intimate manner than I did the others.
Shawn was the only one besides Nick whom I occasionally addressed as "Master". Though the term was seldom used and I usually opted to address him as "Sir" or just "Shawn", some occasions - like this one - warranted the use of a more formal title.
Nick had never objected to its use. Quite the opposite. It actually pleased him to see Shawn and I getting along and it was no secret that he genuinely approved of my overt submissiveness towards his cousin and designated backup.
Shawn shook his head to let me know he didn't want anything for the time being, allowing me to once again remove myself from the festive, fireplace-heated abode so that I could enjoy the privacy of the kitchen and finish my sandwich in peace.
I ate my sandwich, chugged down the remainder of my lemonade, walked back up to the laughter-filled living room and briefly hesitated on which table to join. Though the idea of joining Jeremy at the Monopoly table was tempting, I eventually settled for joining the larger of the two tables and promptly sat myself down on my loving husband's very generous lap; something that was immediately rewarded with the planting of a gentle kiss on the top of my head and the wrapping of a stupendously warm and muscular arm around my waist.
It was already a bit past 8 PM by that point, but little did I know the evening was still young.
For Ethan especially, that was a bit of an understatement.
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Last edited by bondagefreak4 weeks ago, edited 1 time in total.
Defs enjoyed it.
