For a split moment, Chandler Bretton, standing at 6'5, a college senior, looked at the fraternity pledge paddle hung on the wall near him. Remembering how it stung two years ago, and how great it felt to be using it on the new fraternity’s freshmen in the following years. But it did not hold his attention for long as he glared back at the masked man behind the makeshift camera and tripod — it happened so fast — as the party raged on downstairs, Chandler was making out with a girl, going almost all the way until she received a phone call and walked out of the room to take it.
Then, that’s where Chandler noticed the hooded figure climb into the room from the window. Nearly naked and drunk, Chandler tried to charge at the intruder but the intruder was faster, zig-zagging past Chandler’s grunted angry punches until he tackled Chandler and bound him arms. Before Chandler could realize it, he was bound to a chair “Wait DUDE! Stop! Fuck you!?” Chandler shouted as his last powerful grunts for help were silenced into muffled moans by the layers of ducttape, to seal the jockstrap the intruder had rammed inside first. Chandler jerked his head to the side as the masked figure stroked his Blonde hair and chiseled jawline. As the masked figure ran his hand down….from that prefect gagged jawline, down his neck, to his hunky pecks . . . It continued down to his rock-hard abs . . . And then the finger halted. “Oh...looks like Chandler’s already hard for me…” Confused, pissed off and terrified, Chandler looked to the masked figure and then down to his cock . . . It was hard, despite being straight, the fear turned him on . . . Quickly, Chandler shook his head and grunted out forced and muffled “NUWH! NUWH!”, but the masked figure just laughed as he took a step back and set up the camera and tripod.
Worst of all, Chandler could only glare with hatred as the masked figure went over and LOCKED the door of the room. Afterwards — that’s when Chandler took the split moment to look at the pledge paddle. As the party raged downstairs, where hundreds of people droned on by the loud DJ music and an unending supply of beer, for this night, nobody noticed as their college star quarterback and fraternity president, struggle for help against the tight bondage and sexy voice muffled by layers of tape. Chandler could only flex and struggle, as his blue eyes remained fixed towards the camera and masked figure. “Alright prettyboy hunk, "team captain" douche, let’s give the thousands watching your livestream a night to remember~…” The masked figure proceed to open his second backpack, as he dumped its contents on the floor of the room...it was an assortment of Funtime Toys, some for the hunk’s front, others for his rear.
Chandler then realized he was already live, the red dot on the camera recording, and his deep blue eyes wide as could possibly be. The masked figure picked up one of Chandler’s football jerseys from the flood, number #42, and breathed in the smell of Chandler, with that on-the-field musk and cologne wiff. Chandler could only watch, freaked out, as the masked figure turned to look at Chandler from behind the plastic mask. “Sorry Chandler, your sports dreams end here. But I can promise you, you’ll love your new master.” The livestream continued as the masked figure took a few of the first toys with him, as Chandler grunted and squirm wrestle against the bondage — by now 100 people were watching, a few minutes later, 400 people. Across the world, the live footage was on the dark web. Invitation only, the title of the video: “SATURDAYS ARE FOR THE FRAT HUNKS!” — the bidding war began as the masked figure had his way with Chandler, starting at $150,000, it quickly rose to $830,000 and kept climbing! At the end some wealthy oligarch won with an ending bid of $3.7 mil.
• • •
FIGHTING! FIGHT ON! Chandler thought to himself as he muffled “FUC’YUH’BRAH?! FUCK’YUH!” From behind the layers of tape that sealed his mouth as a gag. Exhausted, he wasn’t about to give up as the masked figure forced Chandler to shimmy into a large black dufflebag, which was already getting uncomfortable as Chandler sweated from all that flexing, jacking off, buttplay and manhandling he had to ensure for the past hour. The masked figure was having a blast, laughing “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, big guy! It’s nothing personal! Just my job!” . . . That comment only pissed Chandler off even more, of course it was personal, he was getting fucking hunknapped in his own frathouse bedroom.
His sexy moans for help were silenced by not only the gag but the loud music and cheers of happy college students who didn’t give a fuck nor even knew what was happening to Chandler right now. Finally only Chandler’s head and shoulders were left to force into the dufflebag, until the masked figure HALTED — reaching into the bag, he slapped Chandler’s perfect apple ass and felt his bound arms until he unbuckled the Apple watch ultra Chandler had on on his wrist, and putting on the WATCH for himself before Chandler’s blue eyes. “Thanks boy, I’ve been wanting one of these for a while now.” The masked figure cooned as he kissed Chandler on the gagged mouth.
But enough play, a job is a job, as Chandler sank into the dufflebag, ZIP! Chandler struggled from the inside of the bag, 3 am, as the masked figure calmly loaded all of his gear into the two backpacks, even taking Chandler’s pledge paddle for later use, he noticed Chandler eyeing it and threw them out of the window, where they landed in the bushes. “Don’t worry Mr. Alphalete, I’ve not new to this. I’ll get you down safely.”
The Masked figure lifted the large bag with the over 250 pounds of pure muscle fratboy over his shoulder and proceed down the ladder. Chandler was helpless and terrified as they descended down the shaky ladder. Reaching the ground, the masked kidnapper gave a thumbs up to a few college students, too drunk to realize the mask wasn’t a prank or anything, and continued until he reached a white van, whose doors quickly opened and the masked figure tossed Chandler inside. Where four more masked figures waited, eagerly for the bag to be unzipped as they drove off. Chandler could feel their hands touching the duffle bag all over him, his grunting and moaning only turning them on more and more as the van sped to the airport. “HUHMPF?! HULPMUUH?!" Chandler muffled as he remained turned on as well, as one of the figures continually gropped Chandler’s cock from behind the dufflebag barrier all the way to the airport.
