Check out what Master Alex does to some new bondage meat over at Dream Boy Bondage:
There are SEVEN hi-res videos of this prisoner available for download from Dream Boy Bondage
Name of the captive pictured in this post: MARCUS RIVERS
Check out what Master Alex does to some new bondage meat over at Dream Boy Bondage:
There are SEVEN hi-res videos of this prisoner available for download from Dream Boy Bondage
Name of the captive pictured in this post: MARCUS RIVERS
Images above are from Straight Up Guys
Hey prisoners: Straight Up Guys is now an archive site. There is no new material being added anymore, but subscribers have access to their vast photo and video archives.
By bootboy
Don’t really know how I ended up where I did. Sometimes I think i’m crazy to stay here, and other times I think i’m just where I should be. I didn’t plan this: I just sort of slid into it. Not even sure how much further into slavery I can slide. Maybe tomorrow i’ll decide to call it quits, but I might just decide to stay put and ride it out. Kind of surprised how far i’ve gone. It just didn’t happen by accident though, I think it’s a bit like a storm. You can sense that one is approaching, seeing the clouds gathering and all, and you can either head inside and batten down the hatches or you can stay out in the thick of it. I guess I don’t know enough to come in out of the rain but I like splashing around and getting wet.
If anyone looked in through the window and saw me here; shaved from head to toe, my hands locked behind my back with wrist restraints, collared and hitched to the post of a loft bed, i’m sure that they would think I was crazy. But when I look out and see how most people live, to me, they are the ones who seem crazy: or worse.
Unowned in NYC
It’s been over a month now since my sub became my gimp. While I’m on the job, or out with my buds, the excitement of knowing where he is and how he’s bound, and that he’s not moving until I got home, still keeps me hard through the better part of each day. But the intensity is lessening a little bit, week by week. It’s a relief for me, in a way, because my dick was getting chafed from stepping into the port-a-john to jerk off five or six times a day during those first couple weeks. The other guys had started razzing me about it — was I getting old man’s prostate? Going to jerk off again? If only they knew that’s exactly what I was doing.
That first week, the gimp was on my mind practically every second of every day. Horned up beyond belief, but tempered with a strong dose of concern. Maybe he’d overheat, or there’d be a fire or a gas leak at the house. Maybe he’d completely freak out and I’d come home to a zombie gimp, mentally broken beyond the point of what I wanted. Maybe some freak accident would clog up the air tube in his gag. The gimp and I had talked about all these dangers and more, in those last couple months leading up to his transformation. As far as he was concerned, the chances were so remote for any of these possibilities, that it was a no-brainer.
The potential risks were well worth the reward of him being allowed to truly live as my object. He didn’t have to twist my arm. I had just wanted to make absolutely sure he was aware of what he’d be getting himself into, and that he wasn’t off in a fantasy world, unaware of certain realities. By the time I’d decided I really wanted to do it with him, I wanted to be sure we weren’t going to get a few days or a few weeks into it just to have him try to get out of it or negotiate for something easier.
Check out what happens to Blake:
There are ELEVEN hi-def videos of this prisoner available for download from Dream Boy Bondage
Title of this series: “BLAKE ELLIS – Total Submission”
By Unowned in NYC
I’m driving home from work with a raging hard-on, knowing my gimp is sitting on the closet floor right where I left him this morning. It’s only been a week since he quit his job, and since that first day, this Monday, barely a moment has passed where I haven’t been throbbing in my pants, oozing precum.
I wonder if I’ll eventually get used to having a gimp, take it for granted, forgetting about him for hours at a time, no longer ready to bust my nut just picturing him.
Almost there. It’s been all I could do to not whip out my dick and jerk off in the car, but I’m waiting until I get home so I can get into my full leather and see the gimp as I shoot my load. Still early spring, so the days are still short. It’s dusk as I take the last turn on to my street. My place sits at a dead end.
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