What is a Treat?

by Igor Stravinsky

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© Copyright 2020 - Igor Stravinsky - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/m; bond; electro; gag; mum; toys; public; cons; reluct; X


The doorbell caught Peter’s attention, and he set down his drink and paused “The Blair Witch Project” - his favorite horror movie, knowing that trick-or-treaters were at the door. However, he waited.

DING! The doorbell chimed again, then a third DING! The left side of Peter’s mouth curled into a smirk as he finally got up to greet the first Halloween visitors of the evening. He opened the front door.

“Trick or treat!” screamed a group of three revelers, obviously teenagers. They were dressed as Morticia Addams, a pirate and the third was wearing a white sheet with holes cut out for their eyes - a ghost. A truly creative costume. Peter held out the bowl filled with candy.

“Go ahead,” he said, “whichever one you want.” Morticia and the pirate each took a Snickers and the ghost pawed through it before taking a Milky Way.

“Sure you don’t want anything else?” Peter asked, giving the bowl a shake.

“No thank you,” said Morticia politely.

“Killer decorations, dude,” said the ghost, identifying it as male.

“Thanks,” said Peter modestly. He went to great lengths to decorate for Halloween, and his house was known in the neighborhood as one of the must-see homes of the season. Every year he tried to outdo his previous effort, even if in some small way. The front yard was festooned with jack-o-lanterns, incredibly realistic zombies, decayed hands clawing from the ground, giant spiders whose eyes lit up, cobwebs, gravestones, and... 

“Especially that mummy, man,” said Morticia. “The way it moves, it’s almost like... it’s real.” She shuddered a bit and Peter smiled again. To the left of the sidewalk was a coffin, propped up at about fifteen degrees from vertical. It looked old, decayed, but mostly intact. The lid was open, revealing a white-wrapped figure, just barely recognizable as human and not some giant insect larva. Almost completely wrapped in frayed white bandages, there were a few spots the bandages fell away, revealing decayed skin, and there was the smallest slit in the wrap across the eyes. The mummy was further wrapped in heavy chains that kept it from falling out of the coffin. When the candy-seekers walked into the yard, the pale figure started writhing and moaning. Then. just as the ghost punched the doorbell, the mummy shrieked, going stiff. It screamed each time the doorbell was pushed, louder and more manic each time.

“How do you get it to move like that?” asked the pirate - Peter noticed that he didn’t even bother to say ‘Arrrrrgh!’ “It’s like, really lifelike, you know?”

“Simple,” Peter said cheerfully. “I grabbed a person and wrapped them up and chained them in there. I’m going to keep them captive in there for the rest of the night!” 

“Okay, man, you keep your secrets,” said the ghost. “Whatever, really cool yard. Thanks!”

“Happy Halloween!” The other two said as the trio walked to the next house for more handouts. Peter looked out with pride at his elaborately decorated yard, his gaze lingering on the mummy in the coffin that was capable of such lifelike imitations of movement... 

Four hours earlier

Peter whistled a minor key tune as he entered the bedroom. Shane, his boyfriend of six years, waited for him there, though to say Shane was “waiting” implied he had some volition.

Shane’s body was bent over a long waist-high bench. He was completely naked, revealing a well-toned torso and limbs. He was kept there by several restraints, which were quite effective, as evidenced every time he wiggled or shook his body and they held fast.

His ankles were held in thick leather cuffs, which were in turn attached to a long metal bar that held his feet far apart. His arms were each trapped in long, stiffened leather splints, buckled up and down their length. Combined with the tape that rolled his hands into balls, his arms were reduced to useless sticks that he could wave about but do nothing with.

Not that Shane could even wave them about at the moment. D-rings on the splints were clipped to the bench, keeping his arms held straight out in front of him and enforcing his ninety-degree posture. A strap running over his back and around the bottom of the bench further kept his stomach flat on the bench.

Peter walked up behind Shane, still whistling, appreciating the lines of the smaller man’s body. Shane was about 5’9” to Peter’s 6’1”, but he was definitely in better shape, not that Peter was any slouch, but Shane worked hard to keep his body trim. Peter loved the way Shane’s muscles moved when he flexed or pulled at some part of his bound body. He languidly ran a fingertip up Shane’s naked back.

“Mmmmmm,” Shane said, for in addition to being forcefully held in place, he was prevented from commenting on or complaining about his bondage by a large red rubber ball wedged in his mouth. Held in place by a web of thick straps buckled tightly over his head and under his chin, the strict harness gag prevented Shane from making any sound but garbled mumbles.

“I know you’ve heard this before, but you have a great ass,” Peter said. Shane shook his backside within the limited confines of his bondage. Peter waited a moment, enjoying the sight, and said, “Just makes me want to... “ then there was a loud SMACK as Peter spanked Shane, hard. Shane bucked at the unexpected pain, yelping into the gag.

“MMMMMMMM!” he said in a high-pitched whine.

“Yes,” Peter said, “quite delicious.” He continued to slap Shane’s behind several more times, always to exclamations from the recipient. Finally, Peter stopped and picked up a cloth bag from the floor.

“Alright,” he said. “Now that we’ve got you warmed up, time to get you ready for the festivities.” Out of Shane’s vision, he pulled something from the bag, and held it in front of Shane for a good look. Shane’s eyes grew wide and he started shaking his head in denial.

“Nnnnnn! Unh unh! Nnnnnnnnnn!” he cried in a terrified voice.

The object Peter held in front of him was something Shane unfortunately knew well. A butt plug, but no ordinary one. Large and misshapen, covered with knobs, ending in a flare and a short wire lead, the thing gleamed black and malevolent. Every time they used it, he was reduced to jelly.

Shane hated it. He loved it. He loved that he hated it, and hated that he loved it. But at the moment, there was little he could do to stop Peter from placing it in him. He knew that when hooked up, the evil thing would vibrate powerfully and the knobs would pulse and travel up and down, massaging and attacking his most sensitive areas. It would wring responses from him whether he wanted it or not, and he would be a slave of it almost as much as was of Peter.

Peter squeezed a generous dollop of lubricant on the tip, smoothing it over the plug.

“Ready?” Peter asked mockingly, pressing the tip against Shane’s ass. He began to push, ever so slowly, and Shane knew that despite the discomfort, there was nothing to do but try to relax and accommodate the toy. Finally, with a grunt from Shane, the plug slid home, and he felt the familiar, uncomfortable fullness and anticipation of what the device would do to him when connected to power.

Without further talk, Peter unfastened Shane’s ankles, pushing his legs together, which increased the sense of pressure inside him. Still bent over the bench, Shane could feel a piece of rope go around the top of one thigh, under the other, and back again, over and over, making figure-eights down his legs. In a short time, Peter cinched the rope at the bottom, knotting it securely, leaving Shane’s legs welded together top to bottom in a tight web of rope.

Then Peter unclipped his arms and pulled him upright. The combination of sensations already was making Shane a bit unsteady - he worried what further torments Peter had in store for him and what effect they would have. He was therefore without the strength to put up any resistance when Peter clipped his arms to a chain, which was then fastened above his head, leaving him weaving to maintain his balance.

First, Peter buckled a cruelly high collar around Shane’s neck, not bothering to lock it - Shane’s useless taped hands would make it impossible to undo. Now Shane could barely look left, right, up or down - only straight ahead. As Peter rummaged in the bag again, Shane’s eyes rolled as far to the right and left as he could in a vain attempt to see what Peter would come up with next.

His apprehension was well-placed, as Peter next held up a red plastic device. Shane knew it was a chastity cage, one with numerous features to bedevil the wearer. Not very long, it had two electrodes inside that would press against the sides of the cock residing therein. It could deliver truly excruciating shocks to the unfortunate member, in unending variation. The interior was also molded into many tiny, sharp bumps, so that if the wearer would become erect, these sharp nubs would press painfully into his rising manhood. Attached was another wide ring that went around the scrotum, stretching them down uncomfortably. 

“This will be fun,” Peter said. “Good thing you’re not too hard, because then we’d have to do something to fix that, which would make this much worse.”

He lightly fondled Shane, then slipped on the cage. Shane could just feel the cruel, sharp nubs touching him, and the feeling caused him, astonishingly, to harden. He began to whimper pathetically, but Peter ignored him. Shane knew the electrode pads were already touching him enough to deliver a painful shock when Peter wanted to. There was no lock, as Peter never put it on when Shane has the use of his hands anyway. For now, it would remain in place until Peter decided otherwise.

Finally, Peter produced from his pocket a pair of tweezer clamps. Shane whined and tried to shake his head, but was unable to manage more than a nudge in each direction. Peter pulled on Shane’s left nipple, rolling it in his fingers gently, then harder, until it grew stiff. He then placed the jaws of the tweezer over the delicate bump, and moved the slider up, tightening it slowly, watching Shane’s eyes with relish as he saw the concentrated pinch take hold. He waited a moment, and repeated the process on the right, and Shane’s nipples were tightly squeezed in the jaws of the clamps, chain dangling between them. For good measure, Peter pushed each slider up another fraction of an inch, which was enough to set Shane begging through the gag for them to come off. Peter simply grinned at him.

“Now for your costume,” Peter said. He brought out another, larger bag, and pulled out several pieces of rubber and a seemingly endless amount of dirty white gauze.

Shane’s arms still hend above him, Peter first used some spirit gum to affix the pieces of rubber to Shane’s body in several places, still leaving his privates exposed. The rubber was molded and colored to look like decayed flesh, and Shane wondered what was next.

Peter took a roll of gauze and wrapped it loosely around Shane’s head, leaving a tiny slit for his eyes. He continued down, leaving space between sheets of gauze when he encountered the patches of fake decomposed skin. Before he passed Shane’s waist, he wrapped a thick length of black-painted chain around Shane’s waist, locking it tightly in place. Peter then released Shane’s arms, which almost fell without resistance to his sides. Peter then took two large padlocks - also painted black - and locked each of Shane’s arms to his sides, allowing a bit of movement but no real leverage. He continued wrapping the gauze until Shane was almost completely covered head to toe in several layers of the stained ribbon. More glue fastened the ends in place, keeping it all on. The last detail Peter added were rubber gloves, stuffed with paper and wrapped in bandages, duct-taped to the ends of Shane’s useless arms. Shane now looked every inch the decaying, foul mummy.

Peter then worked his fingers carefully under the bandages and attached long leads to both Shane’s cock cage and butt plug. The wires trailed out incongruously.

“Stay here,” Peter said. Shane fought to keep his balance, and luckily Peter returned quickly. Shane was pushed back onto a large cargo dolly, and Peter ran three straps around Shane and the dolly, pinning him to it at the chest, waist and knees. Moving the dolly up against the door, Peter grabbed a cord and ran it through the top handle, then around a coat hook hanging from the door before tying it off, ensuring Shane would stay upright without assistance. He stepped back and let out a breath.

“Whew!” he said. “That’s a lot of work! I hope you appreciate it! Should help make for a memorable Halloween.” Shane squirmed against the straps, arms useless, the gauze pulling at the clamps and yanking on his nipples every time he moved even a bit. Peter left the room, leaving Shane to contemplate his predicament.

A minute later Peter returned with a small black box and his laptop.

“Now we test all of it and see if the effect is what I thought it would be,” he said.

“Mmmmmmnnnngh,” said Shane, unable to convince Peter to alleviate his bondage.

Peter took the electrical leads running from the devices on and in Shane and connected them to the black box. He set it on the floor. Then, he connected another wire from the black box to his laptop.

“Been working on this,” he said. “If it works like I think, it will be great. Trust me.” He tapped a few keys and Shane waited with worry.

Suddenly, the plug in Shane’s behind sprang to life. He was familiar with it, but now it seemed to work at another level. Powerful vibrations ran through his crotch, while the protrusions of the heinous gadget vigorously massaged his most sensitive parts. He let out an involuntary moan as the thing felt like it was taking him over, focusing his consciousness on one point. Peter tapped another key, and it stopped. Shane started to whine. Another key tap, and Shane was writhing in his bonds again, passionate moaning coming from his gagged mouth, his attention fogged with desire. Peter grinned and tapped another key.

“AHHHHHHHHH!” Shane screamed as the plug stopped abruptly and the cage on his front delivered a sharp shock to his growing member. The shock lasted for 5 seconds, which to Shane seemed an eternity. When it was finished, all he could do was breathe heavily.

“Bet you’re reconsidering our little wager right about now, aren’t you?” said Peter. Shane grumbled angrily behind the gag. “Oh no, there’s no weaseling out now. I’ve put in too much work. Like you said, ‘No backsies.’ Right? Let’s try it again, shall we?” Shane tried to shake his head and beg Peter to stop. Peter tapped a key, and Shane was moaning again, this time less loudly, but still audible. There was an apprehensive quality to it this time, and Peter tapped the key that would shock Shane.

“MMMMMMNNNNNNNGH!” Shane cried through the ball. The shock was definitely stronger this time! His wide eyes found Peter, questioning in panic.

“That’s right,” Peter said. “Each time, the shock is going to increase. We started at a ‘5’, and it will cycle up to an ‘11’ before starting over, each time going for 5 seconds.”

Shane couldn’t believe it! The last was only a ‘6’ and he would have to endure an ‘11’! Impossible! He would jump out of his skin! Tear these bonds and Peter’s hard work to shreds and run screaming. Except he knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Would have to endure whatever torment Peter devised for him, helpless to prevent it. A tiny whimper dribbled from his mouth.

“Alright, let’s go get you set up,” Peter said, releasing the dolly and getting behind it.

He rolled Shane out to the front yard, and up to a carefully constructed casket propped up there. Peter undid the straps holding Shane to the cart, and muscled him into the casket, both of them grunting for different reasons. The walls of the open box were padded, and it tilted slightly, allowing Shane to lean back into it without much discomfort.

Peter then grabbed several lengths of chain from the ground, and locked them across the casket, to rings attached to the sides. When he was done, loose chains crossed Shane’s chest, waist, thighs, calves and feet, holding him upright and allowing him almost no motion. Peter stood back and looked at his handiwork.

“Wow,” he said, “that is realistic. Should give everyone a good scare tonight.” He leaned in closer. “So, here’s how it works, just so you can enjoy the anticipation. When someone comes into the yard, motion sensors across the walk will start up that plug.”

“Nnnnnngh,” complained Shane.

“Quiet. Let me finish,” said Peter. “That will continue exactly until someone hits the doorbell. Then, you get a five second shock.”

“Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mm!” pleaded Shane.

“And thank you for not interrupting anymore, as I said before, each time the shock will increase until it gets to 11 before cycling back. Yes, I was inspired by ‘Spinal Tap.’ So, if someone hits the bell three times right away, that’s fifteen seconds of increasing shock.”

Shane tried to beg Peter to let him go, that he would do anything.

“Mmmmmmhhhh! Eeee! Ngh ngh! Oh!”

But Peter would have none of it, simply kissing Shane lightly on his bandaged forehead and saying, “Have fun! I know how you love Halloween. I have to get the candy ready.”

Twenty minutes later

Shane had given up struggling against the restraints. They were simply too effective, and he was resigned to the fact that he was not going anywhere until Peter decided he would. He simply marinated in the fear of what would happen when that first trick-or-treater stepped into the yard.

He did not have much longer to wait. Several young people started up the walk to the front door. The plug surged to life, vibrating and vigorously massaging Shane’s most sensitive areas. As if connected to a switch, Shane started moaning helplessly, his arousal magnified by the humiliation of having to perform it in front of strangers, even if they were ignorant of his situation.

“Shit!” said one of the holiday beggars. “That freaked me out. Go ring the bell.” Another one reached up to the doorbell, and as if connected by wire (which was in fact true), Shane let out a bloodcurdling “AHHHHHHH!” as a pulse of electricity ran through his cock. Another trick-or-treater jumped. Peter opened the door, and they yelled the traditional greeting.

“Hey there,” greeted Peter. “Cool costumes!” He held out the candy bowl. “Take whichever one you want, Happy Halloween!” They left and he closed the door after a long glance at Shane in the front yard.

As the holiday progressed, more and more costumed revelers came to the house, and each time the devices Peter hooked up to his laptop elicited a proper performance from Shane. Shane had started trying to remember what level the shock was at, but had long ago lost track, as the increasing tempo of candy-seekers meant he was on a never-ending seesaw of arousal and pain. Once, one of the visitors came near his coffin, and he almost panicked, afraid of discovery.

“Beware the mummy!” intoned a deep voice. Peter had made a recording and then changed the pitch of his voice with his computer. “Stay back! The mummy will take your soul to his prison deep under the pyramids! Beware the mummy!” The curious person jumped back, and walked up to ring the doorbell, and again Shane replied with a shrill scream.

Finally, the stream of costumed youngsters reduced to a trickle, and Peter started waiting to open the door, so the visitor would ring two, three or even four times in quick succession. Every time, Peter would grin at his mummy while greeting the visitors.

After an eternity, there were no more trick-or-treaters. Shane waited, for he could do nothing else, and his mind was a fog of over-stimulation. His nipples ached, his cock pushed against the sharp nubs in its cage, pleasure and pain at war and yet working together. He was dimly aware that Peter was walking towards him, carrying the candy bowl.

“Looks like the trick or treat is about done,” Peter said. “Having fun?”

“Ngh! Ngh! Mmm-mmm! Eeeeee!” Shane began to beg once again to be let out, hoping that this moment was at last his longed-for release. Peter simply held the candy bowl up where Shane could see it.

“See that?” asked Peter smugly. “I let them pick, and this is what happened. See what’s left?”

Shane tried to nod, hoping that agreeing with Peter would hasten his release.

“So, are you going to argue with me again about what’s the best Halloween candy?”

“Mmm-mmm! Mmm-mmm! Ngh! Ohhh!” said Shane, trying again to get Peter to release him, again without result.

“Damn right,” said Peter. “Well, I don’t see anyone else out. Probably won’t need anymore of this candy for the rest of the night.”

Shane let out a relieved sigh.

“So, just to drive the point home, and in case there’s anyone out looking at decorations, I’ll leave you out here for a little longer and just turn the program on random.”

Shane let out a high-pitched whine, unable to even think about staying in this position one minute longer.

“Yes, I think another two hours should do it,” Peter said, turning away.

“NNNNNNNNNNNNGH!” screamed Shane. Peter walked back towards the house.

“Pfft!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Candy corn!”


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