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Diplomatic Immunity, Part Two: Kelly's Descent

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Diplomatic Immunity, Part Two: Kelly's Descent by JG Leathers

Airline agent, Kelly Hanson has the bad luck of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He's called on to assist with a female passenger Delilah Mahjalis, a young woman completely shrouded in the dense black robes of a Middle Eastern society. Kelly quickly discovers that the girl cannot walk, due to a complex array of chains and other jewellery she has apparently been forced to wear.

With his curiosity piqued, Kelly embarks on a misguided attempt to discover why Delilah was so brutally restrained. But when he makes inquiries about her at her country's embassy, his curiosity comes to the attention of the girl's father and powerful forces are unleashed of which Kelly has no comprehension or control. Suddenly, he finds himself whisked away, forcefully restrained and in the midst of an unimaginable horror story, as the latest 'subject' of the ingenious Dr Jannason, who has perfected a unique system of bondage punishment. Kelly will be the doctor's first male subject.

In a terrifying descent into total bondage and subjugation, Kelly not only duplicates Delilah's wretched misfortune, but he is eventually transformed into a vision of himself that defies description. Kelly becomes little more than a 'test animal' on a forced journey of sexual reassignment in the most horrific of circumstances. Once complete, he'll find himself shipped off to become a play thing, demonstrator, and discipline slave for Sheikh Al-Marish. There is no escape, for his journey has become a new, terrible, and permanent life.

In a style all his own, JG-Leathers chronicles in Diplomatic Immunity, Part Two, an amazing physical transformation, which includes detailed accounts of forced bondage, hi-tech restraining devices, diabolical punishment, sexual torture and extreme body alterations, as well as several unique glimpses of the doctor's various restraining methods for his ever increasing number of female subjects.

Cover Image by Rubbert

Note: Although we list this title in both our Maledom and Femdom categories, this unique novel does not fit our normal designations. The primary focus of this story is a male subjugated by authoritarian males. There is no female domination content.

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“Please to stop where you are! Stand against the tree with your face to it! Put your hands behind you and remain still!”
I was shocked and angered that this far too common occurrence had happened to me; for this was one of the few neighbourhoods that was considered safe. I have the usual amount of intelligence and so upon seeing the three shadowy figures beginning to surround me, I complied with the commands. I just hoped they’d take what little cash I had and leave me to go home, a sadder and wiser night time wanderer.
It was not to be, for as soon as I stood at the tree, a pair of hand cuffs was closed tightly around my wrists, then a chain was wrapped around my waist and connected to the cuffs! At the same time, just as I was preparing to yell, a thick, rubbery, bag-like hood was drawn over my head and face then cinched tightly around my neck. It filled almost immediately with a gas of some kind and I remembered no more. There followed a long time of nightmarish dreams and an intermittent sensation of movement; but finally I awakened to find myself in what was obviously a cell. I didn’t know where I was; but had a feeling that it was somewhere far away from where I lived. The guards, what little I saw of them, were all of swarthy complexion, and spoke minimal English with thick accents and some difficulty, when they talked to me at all.
Upon awakening, I immediately discovered I was naked ... but that wasn’t all! I’d been fitted with, temporarily, I discovered later to my horror, a pair of wrist cuffs, ankle shackles, a belly chain, and a very uncomfortable, high metal collar. My wrists were held to my sides, just above my hips, keeping me helpless and vulnerable; but the worst part of these restraints was that I wore a large, uncomfortable gag and could feel the presence of a tube from its back going down my throat! I climbed awkwardly to my feet from the rubber mat and it was then I saw the three chains dangling from the wall ring, all of them leading to me! The cold links from their connection at the rear of my neck swung across my sweaty back, and the one from the rear of the belly chain descended between my buttocks, while below, the third was welded to the middle link of the short length between my ankles.
Very fearful now, I looked around the cell, struggling as hard as I could manage to free myself of the restraints; desperate to get the rubber pad out of my mouth, but nothing I tried worked. No matter how I contorted and twisted my body, my hands could not reach my face. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, for the steel strap that held the pad anchored in my mouth was quite securely locked to the collar at the nape of my neck.
My accommodation was a large, concrete box; probably about five metres square, with all of its smoothly finished walls painted a glistening white. The floor was covered with large grey tiles, while the ceiling, some three metres over my head, was also painted white and at places, hung with dangling lengths of glittering chain. Inset into it was a grid of high intensity lights behind armoured glass, and high in each corner, a TV surveillance camera stared down at me impassively, tracking my every movement. Foolishly I suppose, I blushed a deep scarlet at being seen like this. In one corner was an all-in-one, stainless steel commode and small basin, and on the floor on the opposite side, a glued-down sleeping mat. The cell had no windows or door that I could discern, however, upon further inspection of the ceiling I saw the fine outline of what appeared to be a large access hatch.
I have since discovered that nearly all of the cells I am kept a prisoner in are constructed in this manner.
For a short time, I wandered around the featureless, silent box, trying to yell around the throat tube and gag pad; but soon discovered that it was better to keep silent, for when I attempted to speak, I began to retch violently because of the intruder in my throat. I guess it was at that point I broke down and began to cry with anger, frustration, fear, and boredom. After God alone knew how many hours, I knew without doubt that I was not going to escape this room.
Finally, I heard a noise and looked up to see the panel in the ceiling being moved aside. God, it was thick! Obviously, had to be moved mechanically. A ladder descended, then a harsh voice commanded me to kneel facing into the corner beside the sleeping mat.

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