Jon gradually woke up. His head was woozy and the room was dark, so he couldn't tell where he was. The only thing he could tell was that he was tied down with his arms above him and his feet spread wide apart, and that he was naked. As his head cleared, he tried to remember how he got into this predicament. He remembered talking to some guy at a bar. They talked about football, the weather, their jobs, their families. He had thought at the time that the man was unusually curious about his personal life, but Jon just chalked it up to this guy being lonely on a Saturday night in Chicago.
When their drinks were empty, the stranger bought another round. While the bartender was mixing the drinks, Jon went to the men's room to relieve himself. "That's when it happened!" Jon realized. "That bastard must have put something into my drink!"
He didn't remember anything after returning to the bar and downing the contents of his glass. There had been nothing in their conversation that would have led Jon to suspect that his new friend would tie him up naked and leave him alone in a cold, dark room. He struggled against the ropes a few times but soon realized that whoever had done this was very good at restraining his or her prey!
That's what he felt like-prey! Jon was 6'2" and 185 pounds. He had never felt threatened or vulnerable in his life. He had always been good with the ladies, and popular in school. How in the hell did he get here? Right now, Jon was tied up, legs spread, and prepared for something unpleasant. For the first time, Jon knew real fear. As the reality of his situation settled in, the absolute fear began to rise within him.
He expected someone to walk into the room any second, but Jon laid there for hours. The longer he was alone, the more confusion and disorientation set in. He figured that his captors were subjecting him to the torture of sensory depravation. There was very little light and absolutely no sound except for his own breathing. He tried crying out a few times, but there had been no response.
Finally, Jon fell asleep. Apparently, that was what his captors were waiting for because no sooner had he dropped off when the door opened. Two men walked in. He strained to get a good look at them, but they quickly blindfolded him. The only thing he could tell is that they were very large and that they were naked. "What's going on? Who the hell are you?" The only answer he got was a slap across the face.
His captors checked the ropes. Jon had so many questions but was afraid to say anything. He felt hands touching him now. The touching soon turned into caressing. They caressed his legs, his arms, his stomach, and his chest. Suddenly, without warning Jon felt the excruciating pain of someone pinching and twisting his nipples. He cried out and was slapped for his reaction. Whoever this was, cruelty was on the menu. As they pinched and twisted his nipples again, all Jon could do was bite his lip and moan as silently as possible.
Finally one of the men spoke. "Jon?"
"Yes?"
"Welcome to our little version of hell."
"What? What do you mean? Why are you doing this?"
"Jon?"
"What!?"
"Gay men don't like being called fags."
