Permanent Bondage [m/m] (Warning: dark)
Posted: Thu May 24, 2018 2:46 am
MISSING SINCE JULY: Dillon
- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -
Dillon let out a sigh as he fiddled with the dials on his car stereo, finally settling on some nondescript indie song. He reclined back into the driver's seat, trying to get comfortable. It was going to be a long night. It was only his second week working for the car service, but already the monotony of the part-time job routine had begun to sink in.
A few evenings a week he would park by the college campus near his house, and wait for his phone to buzz. College students--usually drunk ones--would open an app and request a ride. Their location would push through to Dillon's phone, and he'd drive over and pick them up. It was a simple concept... a taxi service for the modern age. At 24 years old, it wasn't exactly how Dillon pictured his life, but this--like all things--was only temporary.
He had dropped out of college a couple years earlier. Some people just aren't cut out for the "traditional" route, and in Dillon's case that became apparent very quickly. This estranged him from his parents, who had rather lofty ambitions for their son's career. Nonetheless, Dillon now knew that his future didn't lie behind a desk in some office--no, something in his heart called him towards adventure. The plan (such as it was) would have him do anything and everything to save up cash, and fast. Right now, he might be stuck driving drunk college kids from tailgate to frat party, but 6 months from now he'd be halfway across the world. Nothing but a map in hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. Yeah, "traditional" wasn't the life he had in mind.
He was handsome, but not intimidatingly so. Tall, broad shouldered but lanky. Bright, sparkling green eyes and small black gauges in each ear. He had dark hair with a gentle wave, which tonight he kept under a black Supreme snapback. He wore a simple grey v-neck under a black hoodie and black leather jacket. His dark blue skinny jeans were just a bit too short, showing off the black vans old skool high tops on his feet.
BZZZZZT
Dillon jerked forward in his seat--how long was I out? he thought. Either way, it was showtime... first customer of the night. The drive was short, only a few blocks away at one of the many small dive bars in the area. As he pulled up to the curb, Dillon could just make out his pick-up: a short, thin black teen. Maybe 19 or 20 years old. He raised an arm, flagging Dillon down as he approached. Doesn't seem too drunk yet, but it's still early...
Dillon rolled down the passenger side window.
"Terrel?"
"Yeah, that's right," the teen entered the car and sat down.
"So, where you headed to tonight?"
"Not far... just a couple blocks down that way," he gestured to a quiet residential area, near a big city park that closed in the evenings.
The drive was mostly silent... eerily so, with Dillon feeling compelled to drive the conversation. Terrel responded mostly in nods or short, terse grunts of acknowledgement. He was calm, peaceful, but there was something about his demeanor that betrayed tension and unease.
"Yeah, right up there's good," Terrel pointed a short distance down the street, "turn in here."
"I think it's closed-"
"It's cool," he snapped.
Dillon pulled off the main road, taking them into a throughway through the park. It was dark, and uncharacteristically creepy at this time of night. The only signs of life were the occasional rustling of the tall, densely packed trees that towered all around them.
SLAM
Two dark figures piled into the backseat.
"Wha-" Dillon's reaction was cut violently short by a gloved hand from the backseat, clamping firmly over his mouth.
Dillon glanced over at Terrel helplessly. The teen's expression was one not of surprise, but menace. And in his hand, a matte black handgun of sorts, pointed in Dillon's direction.
"Now you shut your mouth. Don't make me have to use this."
A fourth figure, clad in all black and a face mask leaned in through the driver's side window, and snapped cold metal handcuffs on each of Dillon's wrists. The middle chain was looped through one of the spokes on the steering wheel, binding him to it as the sound of duct tape unspooling off the roll echoed from the backseat.
The hand released Dillon's mouth. He exhaled sharply, just as shiny grey tape was thrust around his jaw and the back of the headrest. The first few rolls, his mouth was open, forcing the tape between his teeth. Eventually, the layers began to take hold, sealing his lips tightly together and muffling his grunts. By the time the process was over, Dillon had half a roll of duct tape securing his head to the seat, and--as Terrel ordered--forcing his mouth shut.
"hummm" Dillon offered pleadingly. But deep down he knew--even if he could talk, his cries would go unheeded.
"Phi Kappa Psi. Drive," Terell ordered.
Dillon knew the name. He knew the place. But could his captors really be frat boys? Hazing had been banned from the campus several years prior, due to the death of two pledges, but even still, Dillon wasn't pledging anywhere. He wasn't even a college student anymore! His mind raced anxiously as he tried to anticipate what possible reason anyone would have to kidnap him, and just what kind of trouble he was in.
They pulled up to the house--a large, two story building with a basement. All the lights were off. Are these guys even in this fraternity? Terrel shifted the car into park, and he and his boys mobilized immediately. Wordlessly, they went to work on Dillon's helpless body, preparing him for the transfer. They wrapped his handcuffed wrists together in duct tape before unlocking them, ensuring that he remained tightly bound. His ankles were similarly wrapped, and his legs were forced up into a bend. They secured him in this position by encasing the joints in tape, all around his knees in all directions. The same was done to his arms at the elbows, forcing them into a similar bent position. As a final measure, they wrapped a few layers of tape over his vans, keeping his feet tightly together.
Finally, one of the men took a knife and cut through the copious layers of tape that had kept Dillon gagged on the drive over. It stuck to his lips painfully as it was peeled off his face.
"P-please! Can I just ask one thi-"
"Nah, man," Terrel shoved the barrel of his gun into Dillon's open mouth. It felt strange... warm, and plastic-like.
A masked man pulled off two more long strips of tape, and handed them to Terrel. He carefully sealed them over Dillon's lips, but they both knew it wouldn't hold if Dillon were to really scream. It was a message--keep quiet, or die.
The largest of the masked men scooped Dillon up out of the driver's seat. It would be a ridiculous sight to anyone--a grown man cocooned in tape, carried helplessly like a baby. Dillon wondered what might happen if a neighbor saw... would they call the cops? Or just mistake the scene for another hazing prank? Either way, he didn't hold out much hope that anyone would come looking for him.
- - - - ~ * ~ - - - -
This is a repost from the old site, I want to keep it around for when I am able to continue it!