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A Day on the Beach

By Cutieboy90

male bondage stories Cutieboy90They said it would be a relaxing vacation. They said it would be several care-free days of lounging on the beach and soaking up some tropical sun. They never said Mitch would be doing any of that.

Mitch growled into the thick towel knotted in his mouth. His tongue was dry and his lips felt chapped from being stretched and cleaved by the towel for so long. At least the towel had been clean. He sighed in exasperation.

“Be grateful, Mitch,” he told himself as he chewed on the gag. This was the only movement he was allowed, though. The rest of body had been rendered immobile for several hours, having been buried up to his neck in sand. His friends had prepared by digging the hole in advance; all they’d had to do was manhandle Mitch into it in the dim light of dawn and fill it back in. They’d been sure to pack the sand down tightly around him.

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The Cask of Amontillado

By Edgar Allan Poe

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled — but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

He had a weak point — this Fortunato — although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; —I was skillful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.

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