Saturday, August 13, 2011
JJ Say 081311
Sorry for my absence the past few days. Took a little vacation time from webbing. Maybe this will make it up to you. A snippet from the next chapter of my ongoing serial, Gender Bent & Heaven Sent.
First story is called On the Y, and chapters 1 & 2 are posted at the Jardonn site. Here's a bit from upcoming Chapter 3:
As the four stepped aside and let me evaluate my situation, I strained my neck and raised my head. Peered over my elevated chest and down my sunken belly. My pecker rested dormant atop my nuts, my nuts precariously close to the edge of the square where my thighs split apart. With each ankle strapped to a plank, my legs laid flat. Three feet of air separated my heels, with the soles of my feet nearly vertical and inches away from the ends of the boards.
Looking right, I got my reflected image, a full-bodied side view ten feet away in the mirrored glass. My chest rose high into the air. My abdomen flat, dropping like a cliff from sternum to pelvis. "Damn!" I thought. "Is that really me?" I tugged on my chains, flexed my muscles, confirmed the mirrored image was indeed mine. "Holy crap! Those fly's and bench presses really get results."
Too bad Stanky had to interrupt my train of thought. He appeared on my left as Burt and the masks exited the room.
“Where are they going?” I wondered.
“To freshen up a bit. Bathroom break. Whatever.”
“Good for them.”
Standing near my middle, Stanky's belt buckle hovered just above the table, his hideous gut inches from my left flank. He rested his hands on my belly, keeping his one index finger in the air, the smarmy asshole.
"So, Mr. Higgins, how do you like my little bondage table?"
"What's to like?"
"I'm quite proud of it. Did you see the hinges beneath your buttocks?"
"No," I snorted with frustration. "Or hell, maybe I did. Who cares? I was kind of busy at the time."
"Well, you will see all the amenities soon enough, unless you have something you'd like to tell me."
"Look, Stanky, I already told you. I don't know what the hell you're talking about. You've got the wrong guy. Don't you get it?"
"No, I don't get it, but you will. Apparently you enjoy pain, but it saddens me to think about it. Since I abhor violence, I won't ask Burt what he plans on doing with you."
"Wish I could get my hands around your fat throat," I snarled at him, my arms straining against my chains. "I'd show you some real violence."
"You are in no position to make threats, Mr. Higgins," his palms lightly pressed my belly, his dry, rubbery skin copping a feel of my flattened mid-section. "Your best play would be to give me the code before you get hurt." Rhythmic thuds of boot heels on metal floor signaled Burt's return. "Ah, there you are," Stanky greeted his henchman. "It looks as though Mr. Higgins will need further convincing."
"So I figured," growled the hairy beast, as he locked his fingers together and bent them back, cracking his knuckles.
The masked goons entered and Stanky stepped aside. "Well, he's all yours. Have fun!" and with that, Stanky exited the room.