Date: Mon, 16 Feb 2015 00:55:55 +0000 (UTC)
From: Gary Stayton <garystayton@yahoo.com>
Subject: Captured Studs of Gnor chapter 3

Copyright 2015 by the author

garystayton@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer; the story should not be read by minors or anyone not prepared
for trashy gay bondage porn. The characters and events exist only in a
fantasy setting and are obviously not representative of any realistic
narrative.

*****



***CAPTURED STUDS of GNOR***

Chapter 3.


The preparatory stockade for auction merchandise was a business affair, and
as such, we did begin to learn the economy of Methane City. These people
did not exchange meat or fruit or nuts directly, but engaged in abstract
tenders. They loved gold and silver, and the value of a live young stud
captured from the Wild Plains was represented in a number of pressed
coins. The other currency was efficiency, and we must be trained for the
block very quickly.

"Ye fuckers are whip-striped and fresh from the plains, and for this I must
keep you and house you and feed you until your welts are gone and ye may
stand proudly and unblemished on the block for the buyers."

These words were said to us by the man whose employ it was to be an agent,
and he did conduct his stockade most competently, for merchandise did come
and go, and the longer it stayed in the yard the longer the bosses did
gnash their teeth.

Reader, ye have come across many strange terms. `Money,' `economy,'
`efficiency,' and `trade.' These are things not known on the Wild Plains
where we lived in health in harmony. A pig is hung for the tribal feast, to
be roasted that night and devoured by many hungry mouths, but none would
consider the pig to be a person, and wives and husbands would laugh at the
idea that the fat and meat were worth the same as a sliver of metal.

"Ye are stinking and disobedient savages," the man did say. "And my
trading-yard accountant doth tell me to dispose quickly, but I can see that
this shipment of nine bucks is a wealthy one. Ye will be kept until ye are
fully ready for the block. That will be five days. At the end, the one of
you who is leastly inclined to make money for me and my clients will be
gelded and sold to the slut-house dealers."

We did goggle our eyes and stem out mutters whilst standing in our yokes in
the yard. A gelding was not amongst the things we knew about, and when it
was told to us what it was we did jump and yelp most fervently.

"This will make you diligent and earnest for the block," said the
dealer. "Heal thy welts and present as fine, obedient studs, and the least
amongst you will be separated from his balls and live as a dancing, singing
harlot-whore in the night-club district."

We did not know what a dancing, singing harlot-whore might achieve in the
night-club district, but I did feel in the pit of my belly that I should
not find out, and this was especially the case since it involved an
operation with a curved knife and a man's balls. One of us, it would seem,
were to be cut from his man-parts and sent dancing and singing. This
prospect did color our view over the next five days.

Our yokes did stay upon us, enclosing our necks and wrists, for we were
big, strong younkers and none of the compound-staff did want to see us
uncaged and wildly free. They did feed us on bread and cabbages – thrown
over the bamboo fence for us to gnaw upon in our animal state. And we were
taught that we must not exhibit the natural behaviours of our tribal
history. We stood still in our yokes for many hours, our cocks reaching to
our bellies and showing their youthful talents.

"Keep those cranks up and keep those buttocks clenched," the dealer did
order us. "Ye rumps must be tight and hard for the feel. I want you to
bruise the knuckle of the man who fingers your hole!"

We submitted to these instructions in the bamboo-cage yard, for punishment
was lavishly given us. The men of our raiding-party and their agents did
want us to appear on the auction-blocks in a very obedient manner, and we
were to be broken hard so that our humanity and rambunctious nature were
removed from us, and since whip-strokes were not what a buyer would want to
see on his oiled slab of displayed buck-meat, the chastisements of the
stockade were both imaginative and cruel.

I was ball-hung in much the same way as Byeeror had been on the road
outside the city, and this was done to me for the crime of struggling most
strongly against the wishes of the compound-staff, for a proud Wild-Plains
stud cannot submit to the yoke and command of such sickly Methane City men
without pulling most hard against his tethers. I did charge powerfully at
the bamboo poles in my horrid neck-yoke, demented by frustration at the
wooden fixture which continued to contain me, and this was a very unwise
thing to do, for no captured native did deign to escape his bonds.

The rope was knotted and wrapped and twisted tightly at my balls and meat,
and then the pulley did creak as the strain was taken by four men who
lifted the yelling buck. Thusly did I hang, upside-down in my hand-neck
yoke and with my legs aloft and free to balance the sweaty, beefy
pendulum. I did quickly discover that I must remain still, and suspend from
my man-parts in a most pacified state, for any wriggle or shift on my part
did cause hurtful movement in the rope-pulley. It is a strange thing indeed
to employ all of one's concentration upon staying perfectly tranquil in the
ball-hoist, for we are used to the vibrancy of hunting and the senses
engaged therein. I did sweat in the yard fully occupied by the weight
carried on my snarled organ, and my mind did give over to only one thing –
how I might balance or adjust the load from moment to moment.

Within one minute of the pulley-block's groan I did desist my curses,
knowing that my mental powers were fully required to regulate the dreadful
swing. Within five minutes I was a ragged-grunting side of suspended beef
in a blind swelter. I hung thusly for eight hours, each gentle push of the
breeze making a new challenge under the winch, and the straining rope
affording me an inverted panorama of the bamboo-enclosed yard.

"Yendor!" my companions did call to me from a bamboo tiger-cage in the
yard. "We are all most fearful that one of us will have his balls and cock
chopped-off by these vicious savages of Methane City, and at this current
juncture it may appear that it is you who is least in need of these male
appendages!"

"Fellows!" I did cry. "My balls hurteth most grievously, but I am in no
manner of mind to lose them. Even stretched and weighted, my manhood doth
stay dear to me, and I have no wish to lose my nuts which now are pulleyed
and lifted to obscene heights. Let these brutes torture me thus and I will
maintain the dignity of the tribe, but if they come cutting with knife and
flint, I will resist most strongly!"

Hence, the conversation among us did lead to little enlightenment, for we
all had not very much to say. And then, a most surprising person did enter
the yard and approach to look at me, and this was the fourteen year-old
punk who the reader will remember as the brat who played so heinously with
Dyeeror's balls when they were entwined on a tree outside the city gates.

"Gods!" I did utter. "How and why the fuck did thee get in here and see me
thus!? Hath not your wretched civilisation a fascination with dangling men
by their balls? Here am I – a sturdy and noble buck – swaying on a
nut-hoist before a worthless city punk-boy!"

"Forsooth," sayeth the lad. "For I did find the men of the raiding party in
Wenk's Cider and Beer Tavern, and I did reacquaint myself with these jolly
chaps, and we did laugh at the way we made fun the other day outside the
city, and the fellows did declare to me that I was a very fine and clever
boy. Gazooks! What a capital bunch they are! And they are most joyful at
the prospect of having ye nine studs on the blocks and the money they will
make. So they told me you were here and sent me to tell thee that they are
drinking most heartily on forward credit and that ye nine studs must ensure
a good price."

"Furthermore," he did say – and at this point his voice did cause me
some grinding of teeth, for it was bubbling with infuriating
excitement. "Furthermore," the little cocksnap continued. "I did bring with
me a grouping of my little friends, and we did ride down here from Wenk's
Cider and Beer Tavern on our wheeled skating-boards! And Gazooks! Here we
find a big, handsome cut of native buck hoisted on a nut-derrick! Aaryn,
Darynn, Barynn, and Larynn! Did I not tell thee that we would see a fine
sight here at the prep-stockade? Observe! The Wild-Plain natives are in the
custom of gross nudity! And their uncivilised ways make for an educational
zoo!"

"Boy!" I did shout in anger from my inverted position in the
man-sling. "Thine hair is a stupid whiff suited to a girl! And thine
clothes are an ill-matched assortment of badly-fitted bags! And thine
general appearance is of a useless lout! Tell me thy name so that I may
know who to chase and beat when I am lowered from my rope!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" the boys did giggle. "We are being called names by a
suspended native buck destined for the blocks! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"My name is Justin Kylon Wayner the Third," said the boy. "And my father is
the Chief Executive of the Methane City Planning and Ditherscope
Authority."

At this, the biggest man of the compound did come out and gut-punch me
hard. The boys gasped. I did roar most fervently at the pummel of this
man's fists as he swung me on my cock-tackle with knuckle and punch.

"Fucker thy deign to corrupt these small boys and make them annoy us!" the
big man did cry in deep voice as he pounded me, and I did make a number of
curses at him as I veered on my cock-rope.

"Forsooth!" sayeth the boys in some manner of agitation. "Do not beat him
thus!" And these lads made squeaking entreaties that the ball-hung native
buck may be spared his thrashing. How surprising it was to hear Justin
Kylon Wayner the Third piping in emotional terms that I should keep my
teeth and not have them knocked out!

Reader, it came to pass that this ball-hung stud did endure his eight hours
on the swing, and hung in all manner of manliness. I did dangle from my
strapped balls and make little complaint, even though I be taunted by a
bunch of Methane City street-punks, and even beaten most hard. Strapper for
the hanging; ye must tie a man's ball's for even distribution of weight
across the sack of both nuts and the base of the scrotum (for this skin
will be stretched most fearfully). The man will thank thee as he hangs, and
praise thy skill in fastening his balls with care, for his every effort is
fully focussed on where your rope doth pulleth and hold, and his weight
doth carry him swinging by his precious parts.

We did sleep on our feet, packed into a bamboo box where we did fucketh
each other very hard. Water was tipped upon us when the Sun did intensify
the stench of our piss and shit. Our nailed, wooden yokes did frustrate us
greatly, and make us argue verily with our overseers who stood outside the
close, shit-stinking box which lay well in the hot sun.

And we did tell our captors that we wished for the auction-block and to be
sold-out of this foul carton made of bamboo struts, which creaked and
groaned and held nine naked studs most crammed in their filth. For three
more days we did stay in the cage, and then we were prepped for the Methane
City Markets. However, prior to these ceremonies, one of us was chosen for
selling to the whore-houses as a gelded dancer.

*****

garystayton@yahoo.com