Surprise Summer Camp Beating
18 March 2019 | 10:00 pm

Contains: bondage, KO, beating, gun, cbt
Copyright © 2005 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.org
Western Michigan, September 2005

Sitting at the top of dish hill, it was your standard Saturday morning at Inferno. I'd enjoyably overslept, and so missed the early continental breakfast, and brunch hadn't been put out yet, so I was hungry. Mike, had popped off for a bit. I don't quite remember what his excuse was, but he had absconded back to his room. His other half was still sitting around chatting with the group.

Five minutes passed killing time, there were 5 or 6 of us sitting around killing time until brunch when finally, the exodus to brunch began. Still no sign of Mike. Of course, Mike & I had talked about maybe doing a take-down scene, and this was the bait. Knowing my track record with take-down scenes, I figured this would be another flop. When Mike's partner got up and suggested I come along with to get Mike for brunch, I followed along. I more than half-believed that nothing would happen.



We strolled across the property to the old hotel and then down to the "bath house rooms". A bunch of rooms with a communal shower area. That's where they were staying. We got to the room, and he opened the door, with Mike digging around through his stuff. I never did find out what he was supposedly looking for, but when I looked, his hands seemed empty.

It's dark down there, the bath house rooms are downstairs in the basement. So when we got into the room, I took off my sunglasses. Rather than hang them off the front or back of the collar of my shirt, I put them down on the table, or maybe on top of a suitcase. It was always possible that he might actually follow through, I thought. I had completed the thought and let go of the glasses when I was grabbed from behind.

I had turned around to put the glasses down. I mean really, if I was going to be involved in a take down, or even a failed attempt at a take-down, I should at least give them a real opportunity to get started. I can't play "hard to get" all the time and have fun.

It happened fast. An arm snaked in front of me from the right. Instinctively, I swung to my left, my face planting firmly in the hand that held the rag as the right arm hooked under my chin and pulled back. I was thrown slightly off balance and quickly inhaled, breathing in a strong lung full of chloroform laced air through the rag over my mouth and nose. I coughed hard, once, and then the rag was re-situated.

I'm used to being able to toss most would-be assailants off, or at least get them off balance, but damn, did Mike have a good grip. I began to taste the fumes in my mouth. Chloroform always leaves a distinctive taste. I couldn't break his grip on my neck, and I did try... I held an idea of maybe turning this around on him . . . at least until the point when I fell forward onto his bed. The fumes were starting to weaken me. Of course, not nearly as much as Mike thought. He started to back off of me, when I stirred. He came back on and forced the rag back into my face, holding me down with his mass.

The heavy thrumming and rushing had been filling my ears, and tunnel vision hampered my sight. My limbs were feeling like lead, and the thrumming was getting closer to being that white light filling my head. I was going out this time . . . but I didn't quite go all the way.

Rather than being knocked out, I was rendered helpless. I felt like an observer from a distance, mentally watching my body be moved about. Handcuffed. Legs bound. I felt my senses and my control return to normal. I stirred. As I was coming to, Mike began tying my hands together, now that I was sufficiently restrained. After a couple of re-ties, he had my hands bound tightly enough to take off the cuffs.

Lying face down on his bed, dazed, I began to lift my head, but let it fall back down. I was still weak. Mike added more rope around my thighs, around my calves. Now came belts, across my chest and upper arms, more on my legs. Then he folded my legs up, behind me, towards my ass. I finally started getting my fight back, and tried pushing back, but it was too late. Mike had wrapped a belt under my thighs and over my shins, keeping my legs bent. I was a tightly folded package, and not going anywhere.

I tried struggling against the belts, but any time I relaxed from my struggles, the bastard pulled the belts another notch tighter. My knees felt like they were going to pop. The strain was incredible, but I was in a feisty mood...

"There now, you're not going anywhere, are you?" said Mike.

I surprised myself by spitting out, "Go fuck yourself!"

A painful thud landed on my ass through my jeans as he punched, hard. "I'd thought about fucking you instead."

"What, with the same cock you fuck your mother with?". A rain of punches landed on my ass, being somewhat exposed, and a bit of a large target.

"Arrrr" I exhaled, clamping my teeth together. I rather enjoyed this... It's rare that I tell someone off like this, and I don't often tempt fate so blatantly. But I was on a roll. My adrenaline was pumping, I was smiling ear-to-ear. Consequences? I was getting off on playing with consequences. All of a sudden I spit out, "That all you got? My dead grandmother punches better than th..."

My witty banter was cut short as after I felt Mike straddle my back, he put his hands around my neck, his thumbs along the back of my skull and his fingers wrapping around the front. The sudden pressure on my carotids caught me by surprise, and in an instant, I saw the world fade to tunnel-vision, and then blank.

The 'problem' with choke-holds is that as fast as I go out, I generally rocket back to reality at the same speed. It's like a mental reboot. I came back and all my limbs spasmed as everything came back 'on-line'. My tongue felt large in my mouth, as it always does.

Bucking to get him off me didn't work, but it was fun to try. I made another of my cracks either not caring about or really wanting to find out the consequences. "What, you can only abuse someone already tied up? Fucking wimp!"

Mike still sat astride my back. His hands were still around my neck. Mike spoke with that wonderful voice of his, right behind my ear. "Little fucker," he accused as he slowly squeezed, "trying to goad me? It's working. I like a decent challenge." And he punctuated 'challenge' by jumping the pressure up just a notch on my throat. I could breathe, but the world began fading away. As the world faded, my resolve did as well.

"Please, no, stop," I breathed out, but to no avail. In moments, I was out.

I awoke with a start, still bound and blindfolded, but on my side now. I gasped, and jerked, doing the last vestiges of the "chicken dance". My tongue felt horribly fuzzy and large. I hate that part of waking up from KOs. I'm always afraid I'll bite it.

"Are you going to behave now?" Mike asked, unbuttoning my fly and pulling out my cock & balls.

"Yes," I replied wearily.

Mike grabbed my balls in one hand, "What was that?"

"I said 'yes'". Emphasizing the 'yes' so he could hear it.

"Yes, what?" Mike asked, squeezing my balls fairly hard.

Groaning, "Arrgh... Yes..." and through gritted teeth, "ma'am! ARRR". He squeezed even harder, then let go.

A few seconds later, I heard a quick metallic chick, chick and suddenly felt a small piece of cold metal, maybe oval or rectangular in shape, press hard against the soft underside of my jaw.

"Are you going to behave now?", he repeated, though sounded as if he was asking for the first time and started stroking my cock.

I froze stiff for a moment, barely breathing. I thought I knew what was under my jaw, and was scared. Thoughts rattled through my brain, 'we're in a public venue... in his room... people would hear... it's probably unloaded even if it is real... what if it is loaded'.

After a long moment, I said through unmoving jaws, "Yes... sir.".

Spitting on his hand for a little lube, he stroked my cock more. As he pushed the gun harder against my jaw, I was astonished to find my cock getting harder! Mike obviously liked this reaction, because he wedged the gun under some ropes, keeping it propped against my chin.

"Now don't move, and don't make a sound," Mike advised. He proceeded to alternate between beating on my balls and jerking me off. When I would get soft, or if I would start to jerk or moan from his beating of my balls, Mike would simple grasp the gun strapped to my chest. I could feel his finger where the trigger should be.

Eventually the torment became more than I could take, and I shot. My body convulsed slightly as I struggled to stay still, with Mike having one hand on the gun at my jaw, and his other hand continuing to stroke my post-orgasm-sensitive cock head.

As Mike pulled the "gun" away from my chin, I only had one word. "Wow."

The Christmas KO
15 March 2019 | 3:41 am



Contains: bondage, breath control, edge play, ko
Copyright © 2003 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.
Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.org
I came home from Christmas dinner with some friends this past year and was particularly horny and feeling pretty aggressive.  I decided that I would take my Christmas present by force this year.  I got home and went online where I luckily found Ron.  We talked and I told him that I was in a mood to hurt someone, and to come over.  It was a brief chat, and he quickly agreed.  We switch off from time to time, and often wrestle for dominance.  This time, I was going to alter the balance of power.  I told him he should be wearing some old and worn clothing. He said he'd be over shortly.

I changed my clothes quickly. Off came the sweater and slacks.  On went the desert BDUs, black combat boots, and grey sleeveless t-shirt.  I wanted to have all my supplies on hand and ready when he came in the door.  I threw the Gebauer canister of ethyl in the right thigh pocket.  The EMT shears went in my left thigh pocket, along with a rag.  I took my grey Russian gas mask, and stuffed it into the back of my pants, hanging over the side.  Finally, I stowed rolls of duct tape throughout the apartment.  There's no such thing as too much duct tape.  If I didn't know better, I would swear you could smell it throughout my place.  God, I love that smell.


He showed up about an hour later, buzzing in at the front door to my apartment building.  Knowing about how long it takes to get up to the 12th floor by the elevator, I had to rush to get the last bits ready.  By the time he got to my door, I was ready.  All the lights were off, and the TV was on loud.  The door to my apartment was unlocked, and ajar.  The ethyl can was in my right hand and I had just finished spraying the rag in my left hand as the door creaked open.

I was hiding behind the door in an alcove as he stuck his head in.  The bright hall, and the loud and bright TV facing the door served to mask my presence.  "John?" Ron looked in the door and stepped inside.  I finished slowly putting the canister back in the pocket of my BDU's.

I had the rag with ethyl ready as he came in.  As he opened the door and came in, I quickly slammed the door shut and rammed him into the wall, face to face, I locked one arm around the back of his neck to hold my other arm in place around his mouth and nose.

He didn't know it was coming so he fought pretty hard.  He managed to get one fist into my gut one time, but I was too close for him to really manage any pain.  We shortly toppled to the floor, with my legs wrapped around his arms and torso.  Once we were down, it was pretty much over.  He's got a little more strength than me and we're both about 5'10. However, I've got about 20 - 25 pounds on him. Combine that with the increasing effects of the ethyl chloride, and he was failing fast.

There!  He was sedated enough.  I quickly threw the russian gasmask over his head. It would make it harder for him to avoid the ethyl.  The additional benefit to this mask was that it was particularly loud on the exhales.  Not only do I love the sound of breathing through a gas mask, but it would also help me keep track of his breathing.

Ron started to stir again, so I grabbed the rag and the ethyl canister again.  He grunted as I wrapped the rag around the intake of the mask. Pushing the plunger of the ethyl container, a thin stream of pure ethyl chloride hit the rag, soaking it quickly.  The sudden surge of vapors hit him on his next breath.  I watched as his eyes burst wide.  He had been recovering quickly from the first hit, and the intensity of the smell made him react strongly.  However, the wonderful thing about ethyl is as fast as it wears off, it takes effect just as quickly.

As he settled down and his breathing calmed, I finally took a good look at him.  He was wearing a pair of blue denim jeans, a pair of tan work boots and a faded plaid cotton shirt.  I knew he was clean shaven under the mask.  This good ex-navy boy kept himself clean cut.  A real hottie.

Re-administering the ethyl a third time, I got up off the boy and rolled him over onto his stomach.  He was going to be a handful when I finally did let him wake up.  I grabbed the nearest roll of duct tape. Pulling his arms back behind him, I proceeded to wrap his wrists together, palms facing each other.  Turning around, I pulled his legs up into the air and started wrapping his feet together. No art or comfort involved here.  No worries about circulation.  He was going to fight, and I wanted him to regret every strain he made.

I rolled him onto his side and pulled his shirt out of his pants.  I decided to indulge myself and ripped the buttons out, spreading the shirt wide to show his flat, hairy torso.  I have to say, that's never as easy as it looks in porn or movies.

I pulled the rag off his intake to make sure he was getting clean air now.  It was time for Ron to wake up, and feel what I was going to be doing to him. His breathing was still steady, no signs of waking up yet.

Rolling him back on his stomach, I wrapped his hands and fingers quickly in tape.  Then I lifted his legs, and wrapped several times around his knees.  He wasn't going anywhere, except as a worm, squirming around.

He started making noises.  Sounded like he was speaking Japanese as some point, then talking to his former Navy shipmates at another.  He was coming around, but not back yet.  Rolling him back onto his side, I pulled the gasmask off to give him more air.  I wanted to watch his eyes.  Ron's eyes are so telling in showing his pain.

Unbuttoning his fly, I grabbed him by the balls with my left hand.  With him lying on his right side facing me, I smacked him across the face with my right hand and he started coming around more quickly.  As he started getting coherent, I adjusted my grip of his balls and began to squeezed.  Soon he was moaning.  I don't know if he knew what or why he was hurting, but he knew he was in pain.

As he returned to coherence, I ramped up the squeezing of his balls.  In short time, he was moaning loudly.  His eyes opened and I could see the anguish in them.  The final realization that he was fucked, and there was nothing he could do or say about it.

I leaned in close, feeling his breath as he tried to keep calm in the face of the pain, smelling the sweat that was starting to pour off of him.  The bastard wasn't afraid though.  I leaned in closer and braced his head with my right hand as I raped his mouth with my tongue.

He was hesitant at first, but started to let his guard down quickly.  That was when I moved.  I sucked his tongue into my mouth.  Using a lot of suction and a bit of biting, I had him bound, head to toe.  His head was locked wherever I wanted it.  He let out a whining yelp as he tried to pull away from me, tried to pull his tongue back.  Every move caused him more pain.  He soon realized his only hope was to surrender.  It's amazing how much control you can get over someone by their tongue.

The pressure on his balls mounted.  I shifted my grip slightly and started to apply pressure on his balls from other angles as I pulled them away from his body.  He rebelled, but with his body restrained down to his tongue even, he wasn't going anywhere.

Finally, I let his mouth go.  He pulled his head back with a massive sigh as I upped the pressure on his balls even more.  Ron amazes me with the amount of torment his balls can take.  He and I need to have a ball torture competition again some time to see who's more stubborn.

"Ron, here's your only instructions, if my neighbors hear you, they'll complain about the noise.  I would hate to think how annoyed I'd become with you disturbed my neighbors.  Try to keep it quiet." He just glared back at me.

Forming my thumb and forefinger into a very small hole at the top of his scrotum, I began the finishing maneuver. My other fingers increased the pressure on his balls to as much as I could deliver.  After the steady build, I'd jumped from half strength to full bore ball crushing.  The human male anatomy is amazing.  Your balls are like mice, when caught between a rock and a hard place, they'll slip through the smallest hole you can imagine.  First one, and then the other of his balls slipped through with a satisfying "pop".

Ron threw his head back, gritting his teeth and grunting.  If I still had his tongue in my mouth, he may have bit it off.  He thrashed like a madman on the floor of my apartment, nearly bashing his head into a coffee table.

It took Ron about a minute to recompose himself. "You are a sadistic bastard!"

Smiling down at him, "Thanks Ron, you say the sweetest things."

"You're welcome," he spit back at me.  We kept eye contact for all of 5 seconds before the chuckling began.

"Told you I was in a sadistic mood.  Merry Christmas to both of us... and to both of us, a good night.". Cutting him free, I finished stripping him and dragged the drained boy into my bed for a good night's sleep.

On call garage cocksucker
15 August 2018 | 11:00 pm

Copyright © 2018 by John "Reddywhp" Reddy. Permission granted to archive if and only if no fee (including any form of "Adult Verification") is charged to read the file. If anyone pays a cent to anyone to read your site, you can't use this without the express permission of the author. This paragraph must be included as part of any archive.

Tags: bdsm, real experience, chastity, cbt, oral

Comments to skip (at) reddywhip.org
So I was chatting with GearedUpDude on Twitter that afternoon.  He’d been responding to my chastity tweets, and we hadn’t been in touch in a while, so I said “hi”.  I'd just hit 30 days locked in a device.  It was my longest time locked in a chastity device ever.  We chatted for a while before I dropped him an opening.
Reddywhp: I’m turning into a cock hungry faggot. It’s … quite the head trip. Almost following orders from any drive by on Scruff.

Reddywhp: I’m surprised how suggestible I’m finding myself. And I signed up for the rest of the calendar year. *facepalm*

GearedUpDude: feel free to swing by and let me use a boot on your crotch. just open the backyard gate, enter the garage, strip down to a jock, send the text, bow your head and wait

It was at this point I sent him a picture of me in a bathroom stall, dressed in only my jockstrap, kneeling on the floor, that I had taken for someone else earlier in the day.  We went back and forth a little more. And I was horny.
Reddywhp: I don’t need to come for a long visit… but I like the idea of coming over, feeling your boots on me for a few minutes, maybe you holding my mouth to your crotch.
Damn, I really am feeling desperate.
GearedUpDude: yea that's so hot, let's do tonight.   Message when you leave the office with your ETA, and when you’ve stripped in the garage.

GearedUpDude: So where would the boy like me to cum?

Reddywhp: I … uhh, don’t know, Sir.

GearedUpDude: Really? Not a single suggestion? I’m surprised

Reddywhp: Suggestions?
In my mouth and made to hold it there without swallowing or spitting.
On my face and being sent home without being given the opportunity to wipe it off.
On my chest.
On my locked cock.
GearedUpDude: that’s better, maybe you’re not yet to the point of being cum obsessed.   If this is you at 30 days, I wonder what 60 days will be like
We exchanged a few more horny ideas, but then I had to focus on work, and I worked a little late.  Around 6:30PM, I finally left, texting him that I was leaving, and would be there in about 35 minutes.

The drive was easy, and I pulled up alongside his house when I said I would.  I fairly certain that I’d gotten the house right.  I’d been there once before, but it had been over a year.  So I was getting nervous.  I opened the fence to the backyard and let myself in.  Crossing over to the garage, I could feel my heart pounding.

I went into the garage, and on the floor was some cardboard, about where he had suggested I might find some.  I closed the door, and immediately stripped down to my jockstrap.  I put on the steel toe boots and knee pads I’d brought from work for working in confined spaces, and then texted him.  “I’m here.”

I knelt on the cardboard, bowed my head down, and waited.  It was more than a few nervous minutes there, waiting.  Was I in the wrong garage?  If I got it wrong and the owner came in, how fucked was I?

I heard a door open outside.  Then footsteps across the yard.  Moment of truth.  I kept my head down, eyes on the floor.  The door to the garage opened, and I saw a pair of desert jump boots.  I was maybe 6 feet from the open door and the light from outside fell right on me, there was no mistaking me being there.

He closed the door behind him and came over to me.  I was kneeling and looking down.  So it might not have been him.  But I figure, anyone else finding a mostly naked man kneeling in their garage would’ve said something by now.  So I held my tongue.

He closed the door and walked up to me.  Holding my head against his stomach, he started rubbing my shaved, and very sweaty, head.  This went on for a few minutes until he pulled down his shorts, and held his cock in front of my face.  I stared at it, transfixed.

I don’t know that I’d ever wanted cock like this before.

He continued rubbing my head as I looked at his cock.  This was a new level of frustration, until I asked, in a small voice, “Sir, may I please suck your cock?”

“Go ahead boy.”

And then I became a cock-hound.  I licked and sucked.  Hands held behind my back, I took his cock to the hilt, until he stopped me so he could reposition himself against the car in the garage.  I turned to follow him, and watched him turn on a video camera to record my submission.  At the same time, it seemed he pulled out his phone and started recording from another angle.  He then had me get back to work.

For maybe ten minutes, I got to sate my need for cock.  He continued recording and occasionally played with my nipples as I worked.  I got him so worked up that he started to come before he wanted, pushing my head off his cock.

A little bit of cum dribbled out as he clamped down on his orgasm.  Cum that he proceeded to rub into my chest.

That was when he switched gears and started kicking my balls in the jockstrap.  Not too hard, but he definitely gave them some good thumps before squatting down to get more hands on.  He beat my nuts for a few minutes.  Occasionally getting me close, occasionally making my nuts hurt so I whimpered and pulled away, all along, keeping my hands clasped behind my back.

When it came time, he told me to get my mouth back on his cock.  He’d had enough fun making me whimper, whine, and cringe by playing with my balls.  I had been close to coming for a little while, but it would have taken another 5 minutes as a fairly fixed level of ball beating to get me there, and I wanted to focus on him getting off.

When he came, he pushed my head back, and he finished himself off, shooting several times, coating my chest, and a little of my beard in his come.  Having finished, he ordered me to get dressed and leave.  I left shirtless, as I was overheating, and sweating.  His come was not dried when got into my car and the air-conditioning cooled me down.  I could smell his come on me all the way home.

While I did not come myself, and I definitely still wanted to come, I felt like I’d had a need fulfilled.

He was right.  I am worried how I’ll be when it comes 60 days locked.  Maybe not worried…  maybe … eager.


More News from this Feed See Full Web Site