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A SLAVE'S LIFE

Date: 3/6/2015, Categories: Anal, BDSM, Gay Male, Author: klammer, Rating: 67, Source: xHamster

small, I tried to spread and stretch my arms and to rub life into my cramped muscles - I got all those "pins and needles" sensations as the bl**d flow returned fully. "Right, slave boy", one of the guars said "Make yourself comfortable! Take off's not for about an hour, and it's a long, long flight for you, even in this jet." With that, the two men turned and went back out through the door, leaving me alone there in the cell. Well, they said "get comfortable", but have you ever tried it in such a small space? I could stand up, of course, but the thought of doing that for what might be a very long time seemed stupid. Lying down wasn't possible, and I tried to sit - but in the confined space my back was pressed against the bars or the metal wall of the aircraft, and my legs had to be all hunched up. There wasn't any padding or anything, and I was sitting on the metal floor of the aircraft. I don't think overweight guys with big fat asses realize how painful it can be for a guy with real muscle only to try to sit on a perfectly hard surface - there's nothing to really cushion you, is there? I don't know how long I sat there for, but after some time I saw out of one of the windows four men coming towards the plane - they were in those dark blue uniforms beloved of airlines. Two seemed very obviously in charge, and two much younger ones were following them. End of part 1 A SLAVE'S LIFE, Part 2 I stood in my cell, banging frantically at the aircraft window. Perhaps if I could ... attract the attention of these men - and then I stopped, and realized how stupid I'd been - if they were coming towards the plane, they must know about the cell, and the "cargo" they therefore carried. I began to realize that my chances of escaping had gone - at least until this plane got to wherever it was going. It was incredibly uncomfortable when the plane did take off - as it climbed steeply I was thrown back against the bars, and they hurt as they pressed into my body. They obviously didn't believe all the usual rules about being strapped in and so on applied when they were transporting a prisoner (I still couldn't bring myself to use the word "slave" when I was thinking about myself). We'd been airborne for some time when the door from the front of the plane opened and one of the two younger guys came in - he was in a typical air steward's uniform: tight black trousers, showing off his slim bum, short-sleeved white shirt with dark blue epaulets on the shoulders, and a dark blue tie. He had a deep tan, and his curly blond hair was bleached almost white, and cut quite short. If I'd been on a normal commercial flight I'd have thought he was one of those typical stewards that you see everywhere, and would have sniggered at the thought that he was so obviously "queer". "Hey!", I shouted at him, as he rummaged around in the crates, ignoring me. He came over to the bars, and looked at me. "Hey.... Let me out of here!" "Don't be so fucking stupid!". He had one of those East London ...