21 photos; 4:10 video

Jimmy Ritter – there he sat, the intrepid young star of the St. Louis Dispatch, caught

halfway between his worst nightmare and biggest fantasy. Everything happened in a

blur, too…

It was ten past eleven, and he was on his fourth and – hopefully – final draft of the latest

article in the Rottenberg case he’d been following for months now. Some big shot St.

Louis attorney involved in a massive sexual harassment scandal – gaining more and

more popularity by the minute as the public gobbled up the tragic downfall of a local

hero. Jimmy glanced at the time again. Way too late for a young stud like himself to be

trapped in the office, but this Rottenberg article was set for the front page, and he had

more than decided to make some social sacrifices in the face of his skyrocketing career.

Hunched over the computer with his Pandora channel blasting Foster The People,

Jimmy barely had time to react as an enormous leather-clad hand clamped over his

mouth and a beefy forearm pinned across his chest.

A voice, husky, whispered in his ear. Warm, fetid breath. “Listen, kid. I know this sounds

cliché, but stay quiet and nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

The man clamped his hand down even harder on Jimmy’s mouth, snickering in the

reporter’s ear. “Perfect, a witty maske man,” thought Jimmy, using sarcasm to block out

the fact that his manhood was rapidly stirring down below. He thought about breaking

the requested silence – perhaps by pitifully declaring, “If you want me silent, how about

a gag!” – but reconsidered. Talk about cliché. Plus, he had a feeling that highly anticipated

act-of-muffling would soon arrive, especially as he watched out of the corner

of his eye as the intruder – tall, beefy, black ski mask – hoisted coils and coils of rope

out of his sack.

Before Jimmy knew it, rope around his wrists. Biceps, then torso. Knees. Loops and

loops around his ankles. Helpless. Captive. And shamelessly hard. He could see the

headline now: “Taken Reporter’s Spirits Low, Cock High.” Jimmy’s mind was

ablaze, thoughts tumbling back to the early days of his adolescence, fervently watching

clips on the family’s computer of another Jimmy – Superman’s pal Jimmy Olsen –

struggling in bondage and grunting into a fat cloth gag. He still thought those scenes

were hot. Hell, maybe that’s why he entered the newspaper business anyway. An

homage to his “namesake.” Or a secret desire to find himself, like Mr. Olsen, all tied up

and silenced by the baddies.

But what about that token gag, the one Jimmy was craving so much? His mind raced to

say the perfect prompt. “You’ll never get away with this!” Jimmy uttered, looking his

captor in the eye as the man stood back to admire the handiwork. Jimmy groaned.

Really? That’s the best he could come up with? I guess this whole night was cliché.

“Ah, but I think I will, young Mr. Ritter.” The gravelly voice again, now coming from

behind him. Before Jimmy could even muster a reply, a long strip of black duct tape was

plastered against his mouth, the gloved hand pressing down hard again to make sure

his captive would, as he put it, stay quiet. “Aren’t you even wondering why I’m here?”

Jimmy leaned forward, his cock throbbing, a drawn-out moan escaping from his tapedup

mouth. This was almost too good to be true – but the mask man had a point. What

the hell was he breaking in for? As if reading Jimmy’s mind, the muscle-bound XXXX

started in. “You see, James – may I call you James? Keep grunting like that, boy, it

makes you seem even more helpless than you already are. Anyway, back to my story.

Mr. Rottenberg, my boss, if you will, hasn’t really loved all the things you’ve been saying

about him. He actually kind of hates the bad press – he never did anything to those

greedy ladies, as he’ll soon testify to in court. Pretty sure he’ll take home the victory –

he’s got good friends in high places,” the mask man said wistfully, patting Jimmy’s

shoulder and replacing his thick gloved hand over Jimmy’s mouth.

“You see, though, Mr. Rottenberg can’t take any chances. All of these reports and all of

this evidence you have here at the Dispatch need to go. Fast. So that’s why I’m here.”

The man finished his monologue, coming around in front of Jimmy, straddling his

captive in the desk chair. Jimmy could feel the weight of the man on his thighs; saw a

crescent of a smile emerge from the mouth hole on the ski mask.

“What Mr. Rottenberg doesn’t know, however, is that I’m also a real fan of tying up

young studs like yourself.” Jimmy’s eyes widened as the stranger leaned forward,

kissing him over his gag while simultaneously massaging Jimmy’s throbbing cock

through his pants. Jimmy bucked in the ropes, overcome by pleasure. Taken!

Really Taken! Suddenly, the captor jumped off the chair, Jimmy’s head whipping

around to see the man pull something else – a flash of white – from his sack of bondage

mayhem.

“And now, the best part of all.” Jimmy moaned deeply as the man tied a large, thick,

white cloth – from just under the nose to the base of the chin – over Jimmy’s already gagged

mouth. Perfection. “MMMGPGHGPGMGPGHHHH!!” Jimmy roared as best he

could through the gag, which was more than effective in silencing him.

“I’ll be right back, boy. Sit tight,” the man chuckled. Jimmy tried to crane his neck to see

where he was going, but didn’t even need to witness it. He heard the familiar coded

entry beep of the computer mainframe. Damn! The bastard had access to that. No

doubt he’d wipe out the mainframe and head for the information archives to snag more

precious data about that fiend, Rottenberg. A thought popped into Jimmy’s mind, as he

wrestled with his manhood – aching with ecstasy – and the thought of his career doing

down the drain. His computer! Email was up in another tab – he’d taken a break from

his last draft to start an email to his editor, but hadn’t sent yet. “If only I could try…”

Jimmy thought, his gagged face attempting to maneuver the mouse over to the email

tab. “Almost… almost… come on…”

He was interrupted by a cough. Still husky. “Just what do you think you’re doing now,

Mr. Ritter? Don't tell me trying to somehow send an email while all bound and gagged

up!” The man reached down, gave Jimmy’s cock another squeeze. “I like a struggle,

boy. You certainly know how to do that!” Jimmy gargled and grunted through the thick

cloth as the inevitable arrived. The mask man unplugged Jimmy’s computer and

keyboard and threw them in the sack, filling the now-empty void with their trussed-up

owner. “I hope you don’t mind, Jimmy, but before I go I just need to give you one last

test of struggling strength.” The captor removed Jimmy’s glasses and placed them on a

nearby shelf, before grabbing another length of rope and wrenching Jimmy into a tight,

effective hogtie. “There we go,” he said, patting Jimmy’s ass and clamping down that big

gloved hand – yet again – on Jimmy’s mouth.

Jimmy watched as the man hoisted the sack over his shoulders. “The mainframe is

ruined, and I have all the evidence and articles you’ve worked on in my trusty goodie

bag. I’m sorry to have ruined your night, Jimmy, but security should be here soon. In the

meantime, enjoy yourself, Jimmy Ritter.” Jimmy grunted. Rolled his eyes. The man

smiled. That crescent again. “Or should I say… Jimmy Olsen.”

Writer's Block: 2nd Place

Braxton in Distress.

By Zarbi 360.

"Mmmmm" Braxton moaned into the gags around his mouth, as he thrashed around on

top of his desk, trying to get free. But the ropes binding him were tied to tight, and would

not give. ìShut the fuck up.î Shouted a voice from the next office. Braxton stopped

thrashing about, he lifted up his head to see into the next office. But having lost his

glasses, Braxton could not see a thing. Lowering his head Braxton lay on the desk and

thought back to how all this had started.

9.45 P.M. Braxton closed the file he had been working on, and shut down his computer.

He looked around the office, the whole place was empty. For the past 4 weeks

Braxtonís boss had asked him to work overtime. The work had not been that hard, in

fact a lower member of staff could have had done it and Braxton had not had to work

too long after hours. But all that changed over the last week. The work had remained

the same put the time after hours had got longer, and longer. Tonight was the longest it

had ever been.

Braxton rubbed the top of his nose and pushed his glasses back up his nose. Braxton

heard a noise behind him, but before he could turn round to see who it was a strange

smelling cloth was clamped over his nose and mouth.

Braxton tried to struggle and scream, but he couldnít put up much of a fight. He tried to

remain conscious, as he felt himself getting light-headed. Finally Braxton fell senseless

back into his chair.

10.45 P.M. Braxton opened his eyes, he tried to move but found that he could not his

arms and legs would not work. Standing in front of Braxton were two men, his attackers.

Braxton knew both men.

One of the men was his boss Joshua, who was a few years older than Braxton. The

other was Thomson, the chief Security guard. Braxton tried to make sense of what was

happening. Joshua seeing that Braxton was awake spoke, but not to Braxton but to

Thomson. ìHeís come round. Youíll better get the ropes and bind him before the XXXX

wears off completely.

Thomson opened a large bag he was holding and took out some rope. While Joshua

reached forewords and grabbed Braxtonís hair, and pulled him forwards. Thomson

moved close to Braxton and began to tie Braxtonís arms behind his back. He wrapped

the ropes around and around Braxtonís arms, from his wrists to his elbows, and back.

Thomson then threaded the ends of the ropes through the layers of rope and tied them

tightly together. Braxtonís body started to tremble as the XXXX wear off, and he tried to

get free from the ropes binding his arms. Thomson then started on Braxtonís legs, just

like before Thomson tightly wrapped the strong ropes around him, this time from his

ankles up to just under Braxtonís knees and back down. Again the ends of the ropes

were threaded through the wrapped ropes and tightly tied. ìThat will do nicely.î Said

Joshua letting go of Braxtonís head.

ìWhat the fuck is going on?î Braxton yelled, as he finally got his face back. Neither man

answered, Joshua grabbed Braxtonís hair again and pulled his head up roughly. ìHay,

what the fuck you doingÖmmmmm.î Braxton cried. Thomson had pulled a roll of black

duck-tape out of the bag, and XXXXd tape tightly around Braxtonís mouth. Thomson then

tied a bandana over the tape. Braxton still tried to shout and scream, but only muffled

sound could be heard.

ìYou be a good boy and stay there, nice and quiet.î Joshua told Braxton. ìWeíll be back

soon.î The two men walked into Joshuaís office, but left the door open. As soon as he

was alone Braxton started to struggle and moan into his gags. After what seemed like

hours to Braxton, he stopped struggling. After a short rest Braxton tried something else.

He rocked backwards and forwards in his chair, and finally managed to get unsteadily to

his feet. Hop, hop hop went Braxton was he tried to get to the door. ìHay, none of that

you little fucker.î Said a voice behind him, Braxton stopped and turned his head. Joshua

and Thomson were standing in the doorway of Joshuaís office, watching him. Before

Braxton could do anything both men were back in the office and had tight hold of the

struggling Braxton. The two men as one picked up Braxton and throw him on top of his

desk, Braxtonís computer fell to the floor. While Joshua kept tight hold of Braxton,

Thomson hog-tied Braxton. Both men stepped back from Braxton, who started

struggling and moaning into his gags again. Both men went back into Joshuaís office

For over half an hour Braxton struggled, moaned into his gags and shook head, on top

of his desk. Once he shook his head too hard and his glasses fell off. "Mmmmm"

Braxton moaned into the gags around his mouth, as he thrashed around on top of his

desk, trying to get free. But the ropes binding him were tied to tight, and would not give.

ìShut the fuck up.î Shouted Joshuaís voice from his office. Braxton stopped thrashing

about, he lifted up his head to see into Joshuaís office. But Braxton could not see a

thing without his glasses. Joshua and Thomson came back into the office, and walked

over to Braxton on top of the desk. ìRight, hereís the deal arse-hole. Iíve taken a very

large amount of money from here. And Thomson and I are going to start a new life

together. And you are going to take the fall for us. Over the past 4 weeks Iíve made it

look like it was you who took the money. In an hoursí time some friends of ours will

came and put you in cold storage. By the time you reappear youíre by a XXXX addicted

simpleton ready to take the fall.î Joshua stopped talking and without another word he

and Thomson left. Braxton thrashed about, and struggled even harder. He had just

under an hour to get free, and report Joshua and Thomson, or his goose was cooked.

Braxton must have lost track of time, suddenly he heard the office door open. And he

was still well and truly tightly bound. THE END.

Model:Braxton

Photography by Caitiff

Date of Production: 04/24/2012