TorBound's Bondage Tales

As the sun began its terminal descent toward the horizon it waved goodbye with fingers made of gold, long and soothing they caressed the endless fields of wheat and corn that made the output of this vast productive country. Throughout her farewell the sun cheered her delight with an effusance of pink, purple, amber and orange turning the soft white clouds into a melange of warmth. Tucking the world gently into another good night.

Amid that aurous panoply, in a shallow valley, laid a patch of deep green dotted by shocks of ruby red. An Orchard; Sweet Apple Acres. Well into its fruiting season and unctuous with that sour sweet odour of appley decay. Juices turning to scrumpy even before the bulbs fell from their branches only to splatter below and dose the soil with their hearty payload

As was usual for this time of day Applebuck was just about to call it quits. He wiped the sweat from his brow in a motion more automatic than blinking. He slid a sopping rag into the front pocket of his jean dungarees. His red and burgundy flannel shirt clung damp to his skin beneath. The delicate ripples of his abs and the shallow mounds of his pecs accentuated all the more by golden hour.

He carried no watch, such things often broke out here and besides, if he needed the time he’d just look up.

“Well, I’d call that 20 minutes past 6 to be sure…”

He often spoke to himself. His warm southern accent was as much a comfort to him as it was to others. And besides, farming was a lonely business. Sure he had a few extra hands on harvest days but the rest of the time? He was pretty much left to his lonesome.

“Not tonight, no sir.”

He grinned to himself chewing on a wheatstem.

“Tonight you get yourself into town and you have yourself a fine evening with that fine Mare…”

Applebuck was so caught up in his daydreaming, pitchfork ‘Apple-Botherer’ in hand and eyes staring at the sunset. That he failed to notice the distance ‘Woosh’ in the woods just beyond his property line. And since he failed to notice the sound he also failed to notice the tall dark figure who placed down a mysterious contraption and then: ‘Woosh’ vanished into thin air…

“I think I’ll take her bowling, who don’t like bowling?”

He took his sweet time gathering his tools and placing them onto his rusty old 2×4. Checking that all his apples were good and unbruised he hopped onboard and began the short drive back to the farmhouse.

His route took him close by the farm’s eastern boundary as it passed by a deep pond and slipped into a shallow dell. This was a perpetually shady place and, for Applebuck, always seemed to hold an air of malice. The sort of place Witches lured children to their cauldrons and other such nonsense.

He drove by with a sense of misgiving, when:

Wait, what is that?

“Hhplebhck… hhplebhck…”

“What in tarnation…”

He stopped the pickup, his long yellow ears flicked toward the disturbance

“Was that?-”

“Applebuck… Applebuck…”

Now he was sure of it. A voice, mechanical and low, was calling him, by name!

He stood stock still, erect at his full height and peered toward the noise, his hand gripping a pitchfork, watching, waiting.

“Applebuck… Congratulations Applebuck…”

“…what?”

He frowned, he expected to be pounced upon by some kind of eldritch monster from f
and had steeled himself for a confrontation. He was quite disarmed by a ‘congratulations’ of all things.

Smiling to himself realising this must be some kind of prank by local kids Applebuck threw his pitchfork back into the truck bed and walked carelessly to the noise’s origin with a cheesy grin on his face.

“Those darn kids hahah-”

He shook his head ruefully

“They really got me this time, I swear, if they put half their effort into school rather than pranks they’d be running this town…”

Applebuck reached the limit of the woods, he took off his weatherworn cowboy hat, not wanting it to be knocked off by the low branches. The going was slow in the cloying thicket, it seemed to allow him to enter further but every time he readjusted by stepping back a bit the dense foliage seemed to refuse. As if drawing him ever inward to some unseen focal point.

All the while the chant grew louder and more obviously robotic

“Congratulations- Applebuck- You have been selected- Congratulations- Applebuck”

It was very tinny and each ‘Applebuck’ mismatched the tone and cadence of the message such that it seemed ‘added in post’ as it were. Applebuck supposed it was some newfangled radio noisemaker the kids could program to say some prerecorded phrase and add whatever name they liked, hence the mismatch.

At last Applebuck approached the small shabby clearing where trees simply refused to grow. He’d always avoided this space, even as a child. The tales of fairy circles and gnarls always got to him. Even now as a strong young stud he couldn’t help admitting he was a little scared.

And then he saw it, small, shiny and pearlescent like oil flowing over water. It was a large metal box with a bright red bow tied on top with fine ribbon.

‘Congratulations Applebuck’ was written down the side in red engravings that seemed somehow to be glowing. The radio static voice sounded off again:

“Congratulations Applebuck, you have been selected.”

Applebuck frowned rather non plussed at the cube, he guessed this was like a jack-in-the-box, no doubt it would jump out and give him a fright as soon as he touched it. Then again maybe those jokers had left him a little gift. After all, the town was on good terms with Sweet Apple Acres.

“Oh hell, you’re only young once”

Just then Applebuck made the worst mistake of his life. He reached down, placed a securing hand on the side of the cube and undid the fancy red ribbon.

Before Applebuck could so much as move a muscle the cube sprang into life. Its flat sides burst out and from within a huge bronze-silver centipede apparatus uncoiled itself from its double helix with arthropod speed becoming something like a forest of metal ribs attached to a thick spine anchored to the cube’s base plate.

“WHAT THE!-”

The contraption soon made it clear that Applebuck was it’s target. Somehow, perhaps magically it sensed his left wrist as the closest point of contact and shot out a metal rib to seize him. The cold material splashed onto him rather more gently than it’s speed suggested. The flat rod ratcheted back and widened whilst it split into a bronze cuff which wrapped around his wrist and with a high pitch ‘Zzz!’ sealed its seam as puffy leather filled its skinward side for padding.

Applebuck had only seconds to react. He smashed his captive hand into the ground to shock the cuff off of him, but to no effect. Secondly he used his free hand to dig into the cuff and pry it free but he could see now that the thing was now one single ring of metal without imperfection or weakness.

Apparently displeased by the stud’s struggles the machine shot out an identical rod and captured the other wrist. With the exact same ‘ZZz!’ The cuff was sealed and both Applebuck’s wrists were secured to the insane apparatus.

Suspecting the mechanical monster might want to seize his legs next, Applebuck gave a sudden lurch as if to run. The Apparatus was so narrow and spindly surely it would break apart given enough stress?

In response the cube lurched in the opposite direction, down and back, tugging at the wrists with it’s concrete grip. The opposing motion combined with Applebucks imbalance from trying to rise to his feet caused him to be launched face first to the grassy floor, his body prostrate and briefly stunned. He tried to raise his head when suddenly a third ros extended from the Bronze Spider and crashed into the back of his neck. It had that same softened impact

‘Why me?’ he thought stupidly even as the end of the rod ratcheted back transforming into two pincers of a tall posture collar and collapsed against Applebloom’s neck.

The sudden fear of asphyxiation filled his mind but for nought as with a ‘ZZz’ the collar sealed and, well, fit him perfectly. Firm and secure but not tight or restricting his airways as it inflated plush leather to hold him still.

Applebuck was now in the odd position of having his hands locked palms down to the ground and his head facing forward,forced to watch as the bronze spider began to amble toward him.

“Get gone with ya, I said get gone varmint!”

Remembering that of course the whole lower half of his body was free. He rallied his core in preparation for a burst of energy. He was going to pounce on the strange device, try to smash it to bits with his strong legs. But as you may have guessed already, this did not go to plan.

The cube seemed to sense his intentions and suddenly increased its steady amble to a full on sprint. The 3 ft metal urchin skittered with unnatural alacrity.

‘It’s charging, it’s gonna hit me square in the face!’

But just before impact the machine put all its weight into the wrist restraints and launched itself over Applebuck’s head. As it flowed through the air it used the anchor point on his neck to pivot so that it landed right on top of the earth stallion’s prone body, legs astride his struggling form.

Wasting no more time on games the machine dropped its spine onto Applebuck’s and with loud hissing closed its many rib like legs around him. Gathering him up into a metallic embrace, cage like and from which there was no escape. As it secured him the machine’s spine arched back forcing Applebuck’s head and legs to rise so that he was in a ‘hogtie’ pose.

Content that the subject was secure, the machine lifted Applebuck off the ground with 4 sturdy legs. The sickening inertia of weightlessness panicking the helpless prey.

The securing ribs transformed now. Each of them unrolling to be both wider and inflated with leather, no less sturdy. There were 5 loops placed at the collarbone,mid chest, waist, upper thighs and ankles. Each of these bands formed perfectly to the curves and bumps of Applejack’s athletic physique becoming totally form fitting as if made for him. Between each of these rings struts connected them at mid points along back and front, binding together with a ‘ZZz’ and pulling taught further stretching Applebuck into a ‘U’ shape.

Applebuck’s discomfort grew as his clothes strained under the contortion. A simple fix. With a dexterous arm the machine pulled off first his heavy leather workboots and socks with slow relish. It then sliced at the straps of his dungarees and slipped them free like stockings from a leg. His sweat sodden shirt was cut precisely up the back and around the collar and finally, embarrassingly his pants were cut where they met the hips and dropped to the floor. His huge member was exposed and pointing perpendicular to the curve of his body, almost brushing the ground. It throbbed limply.

‘Gosh darn it, control yourself!’

As if to amplify his discomfort. The machine bent him at the ankle and wrist, gliding backward and rotating so that Applebucks legs were forced to bend at the knee and hip so that his feet were placed right above his ample butt. His wrists were similarly contorted so that his hands were forced palms open and his arms stretched taught behind him almost touching his feet. Finally tiny struts emerged from ankle and wrist bindings. These filaments slithered along his supple fur, each one securing a digit and wrenching them back like a taught bowstring. Fingers and toes utterly exposed as if ready for… something.

Buck struggled with vigor succeeding only in making his many legged prison sway this way and that. Occasionally sticking out a corrective leg to reposition. Seemingly annoyed the pony trap wasted no time in securing its bounty even further.

Along the thick spine and the cage like ribs thin plates emerged with a pressurised hiss. Each of the found hard points along the stallion’s body. Small of the back, sternum, upper back, shoulder blades, upper arms, sides of thighs and so on. Unlike the restrictive cuffs these planes expanded and pushed inward toward a shared midpoint so that Applebuck was compressed, ridding him of every axis of movement and rotation. He was so completely immobilised that he could now move just his mouth, eyes and ears.

‘Mouth, that’s it!’

“HEEEEEELP! HEEEELP ME!”

Applebuck shouted into the inky black forest, night now truly descended. He seemed to startle the living metal. It shivered with dismay and acted rapidly. From the top of the posture collar where it met the back of his head and from the base of its chin metal struts emerged as they had from the ankles and wrists. These struts rushed toward his screaming mouth and, waiting a half second for their prey’s jaw to be at full extension, dove into his open maw.

“HEEEEL- OooouUUGGH?!”

As soon as the metal entered is oral cavity it was already transforming into an unbreakable hollow ring with a huge diameter, expanding slowly to fill the his cheeks and clamp his mouth wide open.

“HHHHOOOO AAAAUUHHH!”

The gibberish was quieter and yet this action of openly gagging him felt like more of a punishment than an act to silence him. Confirming this theory the stud trap shot a free leg into the pocket of Applebuck’s destroyed dungarees and withdrew the sopping wet rag from earlier.

Buck frowned in confusion as the machine drew the rag close, sprayed it with some odd pink solution and then drew it toward him.

“Huuu?… Ooouuughhhh~!”

The rag was folded once and placed firmly over Applebuck’s nose. The soft squish of sweat and solution making an airtight seal at its sides.

He breathed through his nose automatically forgetting that he must not do so, too late.

That first dosed inhalation was like a gallon of diesel mixed with honey. Sweet, thick, heady, pungent. The chemical was so strong it made his eyes roll back. The addition of his own heady sweat now seemed so so horny…

‘Wait… what…’

His huge cock throbbed, centimetres from the ground

Yes, horny. For some odd reason his addled brain was at this very moment dumping dopamine into his pleasure centres and associating sweat with sex. All thanks to the complex potion now fully suffused into his lungs, crossing the pulmonary alveoli and entering his bloodstream. Fully drugged and unable to do a thing about it.

His whole body felt at once extremely hot and frightfully cold. He shivered and writhed both drawing into and away from his custom made bondage. Sweat began to form in shining beads all along him as the faintest touch of wind made him moan with delight and 

‘What’s happening to me…’

His lidded eyes fluttered ever so slowly, he could just fall asleep. He felt so good and so sensitive. This was a dream and he’d wake up…

But no. The machine was yet to complete its magical programming.

All along its surface small pink runes began to glow, they flooded the clearing with rosy pink light seeming not sweet but poisonous.

‘VSSH!’

With a sudden jolt of pressurised air ports exploded open all over the metal centipede. From each of a hundred of a hundred extending tiny metal tendrils only a little bigger than a hair. They were gathered into swarming units floating over sensitive areas. Their combined movements are akin to a field of grass in the wind rolling like a sea swell.

They began with his feet.

These tendrils divided  into three packs. The first group descended upon the balls of his feet, stroking and brushing as their tips oozed and odd green fluid that made Applebuck itch incessantly

“Ahhh AHHH!”

A brief period of this venom painting was cut short by the sudden skirmish of pod, pokes and relentless scraping.

“AAAAAH AHAHAHAHHHH AHHHHH!!!”

Applebuck was extremely ticklish even by the most sensitive standards. He could withstand pretty much anything you threw at him, but not being tickled.

Not allowing Applebuck a moment to grow used to the torment the second pack collapsed on his plush soles. They began that same pattern of brushing itching potion before, like clockwork, punishing poor cute soles.

With his feet made taught by the metal struts on his toes the stallion was unable even to clench his feet. He was utterly vulnerable and screamed with utter dismay as the tendrils raked the whole length of his large feet taking care to sink deep into the softer parts eking out just a little bit of extra torment and misery.

“UHHH AHHH AHH HAHAHAAAA UHHH AHHHH!”

Now Applebuck was close to tears. He couldn’t take this, He just couldn’t. His rapid breathing caused him to suck down my laced air from the soaked rag over his nose making each touch feel both unbearable, frustrating and delightful in the same way that not quite being able to sneeze did.

To complete his podal torment the swarm tendrils above his imprisoned toes finally collapsed splitting into two packs. The first focused on the toe pads themselves. They prodded, poked and buzzed rapidly eliciting horrificly ticklish sensations that the young stud couldn’t even wiggle away from. The second back rammed their way into the pits between his toes. This was the most sensitive part of his feet by a large margin. He nearly broke there and then. As soon as the first cold metal pricks scrapped along the skin next to his big toe he was screeching like a wild animal

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”

But no one was listening, no one cared. The machine went on and on, through some witchcraft it sensed how much its payload hated this torment and redoubled its efforts. The pink runes glowing ever brighter.

Whilst this torture continued the next group of tendrils was readying it’s assault. These hovered just above the backs of his knees. They glided slowly in, trying not to be noticed. Once placed against skin and fur they secreted a blue oil that increased sensitivity many times over. But so distracted was Applebuck by the attack on his feet that he failed to notice this new threat.

The tendrils flattened themselves and spread out like a splayed broomhead. At their they began to rotate, slowly at first. Until they were converted into a spinning brush head that dyg deep into the supple skin.

When Applebuck finally noticed he was unable to fathom what was happening.

‘Kneees.. my knees aaaa I aaaa stop’

His brain seemed clogged with static as the sensitivity potion added to his growing stimulation. The slow plunge and glide of the rapid spinning heads against his knee-pits was horrid. Rather than distracting from his feet the torment was multiplied so that his legs shivered uncrontrolably.

“AHHH AH AAAAH HA HAAA AHHHH!”

He inhaled more poisoned air, the tickling grew worse. He inhaled more poisoned air, the brushing grew worse. On and on it went, but it was not nearly over yet.

After minutes of adjusting the machine seemed happy it was extracting the optimal amount of misery from Applebuck’s feet and knee-pits. The next job was his upper body.

When the machine had contorted his arms back into a hog tie position it had taken care to spread him out a bit so that Applebuck’s armpits were easily accessible. The reason why was soon clear.

As with the back of his knees a writhing mass of tendrils descended ‘sploosh’ and delivered their slime of blue oil, coating the puts as the excess dribbled down his chest to his throbbing member.

Applebuck’s armpits felt suddenly colder. He knew the increased sensitivity meant they were about to be drilled.

‘No no, please no, no more, no more PLEASE-’

The tendrils combined into a rough brush roller and began to spin, gaining speed ever so slowly.

“OUUYHH AAAAH AHH AHHHH AHH AHHHHHH!”

But there was no time to think about his armpits even as the rollers reached full speed. The next group was gliding toward his flat stomach bent into a soft curve by his bondage. These tendrils split into three groups. Two for his sides which arranged themselves into neat rows and a drill shaped roller placed right over Buck’s navel.

What little movement was afforded to the trapped stallion was in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, when the tendrils at his soft sides attacked they jack hammered in and out with blinding speed. No slow build up here, just pin point accurate torment farming. 

“AH HAH AH AH HA HAHA AH HAHH”

The prods maintained total irregularity in movement and speed forcing Applebuck to constantly sputter and jolt with each unpredictable volley. His breathing became shallow and spasmodic. 

The soft drill above his navel suddenly spun into life. Applebuck was dimly aware of it

‘Please… don’t…’

‘No’ the machine seemed to reply as the drill plunged bodily into his belly button. The point of the drill exploiting the soft pit even as the stallion’s tight muscles contracted away from it, ensuring and enforcing constant unbearability. It was so hatefully passionate in its ceaseless drilling. The hypersensitive stallion tried to buck with all his considerable night but it made no difference. Not one bit.

It was all he could do to remain conscious. But this was soon to be remedied.

Emerging from a wide port on the back of the shiny metal posture collar flew four tendrils far larger than the tormentors. The first pair slid around his jaw and past the joins of his lips to lay flat upon his tongue, forcing flat into the bottom of his mouth. They began to seep and milky translucent fluid. It was a special concoction of stimulant which forced its user to stay awake, no matter what. The potion danced on his tongue and became aerosolised with each sputtering breath so that he Applebuck became fully dosed within moments.

What came next was far worse. The new burst of energy only forced Buck to be that much more aware of every sensation. The desperate reprieve of fainting was no longer possible for him.

As if to punish him for even considering fainting, the tongue tendrils split along their top sides and released extra minute hair like fibers. They immediately sought the roof of his mouth and began to tickle with a grudge.

Applebuck had never been tickled on the roof of his mouth, who has? But it is perhaps the most unbearable thing a person can experience, even if they aren’t ticklish
This is a part of the body both extremely sensitive to all stimulation and utterly unused to being touched at all. Those first horrid strokes would have been when Buck fainted but. He was simply not allowed to.

“AAAAA AA AAAAAH AAA AAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

His scream was far louder and pathetically high pitched now his magically stimulated nervous system forced to feel each and every tint poke and prod within his oral cavity. He screeched so loud his ears ached. This was the next item to fix on the machines list.

The two tendrils that split from the mouth tendrils had taken a separate path wound up the back of Applebuck’s head and wrapped around the base of his long ears. With subtle care they wound the outline of his fluffy ears before sinking claws into the fur securing themselves whilst allowing the ears to flick and move freely. Next a flower-like bud emerged from the base of the ear and grew to fill the whole cavity. Its soft shape baffling and muting all external noises until buck could only hear through the sound conduction of his jaw alone. A deep ratting thrum of gasp and scream gasp and scream.

The ear plugs were not quite finished from the centre of the sealing bulbs, more rollers emerged, these ones flat and wide. They settled upon the narrowest point of the aural cavity and began to spin rapidly. The stallion’s world was now a roar of whirring motors utterly deaf to the outside world. That aural.stimulation mixed with the physical stimulation knocked his balance entirely. He lurched this way and that in his mind even as his body was held perfectly still by his metal captor. There was no way to regain equilibrium as he was thrown this way and that in a heavy sea of stimulation, floundering and yet unable to drown.

There were three spots now remaining where tendrils floated, awaiting commands.

The first were a pair that hovered over his nipples. Now perky and erect, the increased sensitivity made every passing breeze a breathless shock. Quietly the tendrils formed into flattened cups perfectly mimicking the soft curve of his pecs. At their centres a deeper well was left for his nipples. All across this surface tiny cilia like tendrils writhed coated in bright pink aphrodisiac potion. They floated down steadily shifting this was and that with every involuntary jolt and judder of Buck’s tormented body.

They finally landed upon his soft chest with a delightfully cool squish that made Applebuck’s eyes roll forgetting just for a microsecond the myriad stimulus of constant tickling. The cilia writhed and pulsed with delight. Massaging his skin whilst his nipples were gathered up and stroked lengthward in a milking motion, up and down and up and down and-

“HHHHHHHhhhhhh…”

A cool shiver ran down his back as soft tendrils embraced his rock hard cock. He’d been so distracted by nipple stimulation he had failed to notice the same treatment being readied for his penis.

‘Oh please, yes, please…’

This was it, finally some release, some reprieve from the endless torment. If he could just cum, if only..

But cumming was not part of the plan. Instead the the tendrils mimicked the shape of his shaft leaving large gaps and becoming something like metal fleshlight that focused only on points of maximum sensitivity. As with the nipple pleasers this attachment exuded great masses of potion, but of all colours. 

Abstract terror sank into Applebuck as he realised he was feeling more sensitive, he itched like mad, he felt so much hornier and a final new torment. He was not able to cum.

He discovered this as his mind grew dim and delighted by the growing pleasure and defeat to torment, it would all be okay when he came, when he came, when he-

“Oh no no no mo NOOOOOO”

He reached his peak and was pushed back bodily to a world of tickling and rubbing, brushing and poking and prodding. All things designed to maximise sensation but negating release.

“NAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHOOOOOOO!”

He screamed and screamed, mad with fear and frustration. He tried to cease his movement hoping that the tendrils wouldn’t feel so strong but as he tried the securing plate on the small of his back pistoned slowly up and down forcing him to hump involuntarily against the fleshlight cage. It pumped him ever so slowly, squeezing out every little ounce of pleasure and dismay.

This was it. Sum total of his externality. Each erogenous surface somehow repurposed for misery and delight. He stopped thinking about things such as ‘escape’ and ‘freedom’ instead diverting his tired brain to the more pressing matter of:

‘Cum cuuuum, let me cum, i wanna cum, i need to cum, let me cum let me cum, cum, cuum,  cuuuuuum!’

Ad Infinitum.


3 HOURS LATER.


A quiet ‘Whoosh’ disturbed the otherwise quiet woods. A tall zebra woman clad in dark robes but obviously feminine with busty silhouette stepped from a dark portal and smiled at the ‘Object’ at her feet. Mewling softly whilst sweat and drool and tears leaked from the gaps in the BoyTrapper was her prize. The Earth Stallion known as Applebuck. 

She’d had her eyes on him for a little while now. A fine addition to her collection for sure. Soft, supple and yet lightly muscled. A farmboy through and through.

She admired the BoyTrapper’s handiwork with delight

It was now in ‘Storage Mode’ which meant the occupant was reduced to as small a cross-sectional area as possible, their vital organs protected and their bare skin covered save for breathing gaps.

In practice this meant the poor horny tickle toy was bound in a ‘Box-tie’ foot to ass and knees to chest with head tucked in. His coating was different. The living metal, programmed runically by the zebra woman had hooded Applebuck, depriving him of every sense except touch. To secure him further a huge bulbed anal hook had captured him and was now aiding in holding him a foot off the ground along with the posture collar and spine rings. The hook vibrated slowly away, the slowly growing pulse matched the slowly growing moan coming from beneath the hood.

“Ahhh, right where I left you, who’s a good little monster”

She patted the machine, utterly ignoring it’s contents. The BoyTrapper seemed to purr in response and. As if responding to some secret command extended a handle from its mid point secured to anal hook and posture collar. Almost like a brief case.

The Zebra woman ceased the handle and lifted the writhing denied tickle pet with ease.

She didn’t even look at him as she wandered back toward the portal.

“Just you wait Bucky Boy”

She spoke in a sweet motherly tone

“You may think you’re being pampered now, just wait until I get you home.”

Three steps later they were through the portal and ‘Woosh’ it disappeared as if it had never been there.

Applebuck had disappeared too and would never be seen again at Sweet Apple Acres or anywhere in that dimension, ever again.

The End of Part 1