The Art Show

By Cutieboy90

Cutieboy90 videosMatt and his buddy TJ stood awkwardly by the big steel door of the warehouse. Matt instinctively covering his flaccid penis with one hand, while TJ didn’t even bother trying to cover his big package. He swung his arms idly as they waited for some sort of instruction.

“We ain’t too early, are we?” TJ asked Matt. Matt shook his head.

“No, we’re right on time. And exactly where we were told to be. They must be running late.” Matt finished with a slight hint of annoyance.

“It’s cool, man.” TJ shrugged. “You know how civilians are. They can’t help it.”

Matt nodded. Of course TJ was right. Adjusting to life after years of structured army life had been difficult for both of them. Matt was glad TJ was always so chill.

“C’mon, lighten up!” TJ clapped his friend on the back. “It’s only an art show, ya gotta relax. It’ll be fun! Tell you what, you drop and give me 150. I promise they’ll be ready for us before you finish!”

Continue reading The Art Show

Seamus O’Reilly endures bondage and water torture

This is a video from 30 Minutes of Torment called “Extreme Water Torment and Bad-Dragon Dildo”

Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_01 Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_02 Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_03

In this video from 30 Minutes of Torment:

Seamus O’Reilly is suspended over a tire and his body is covered with clothespins. Seamus feels the clothespins pinch against his balls, chest and face before Van gladly whacks them off using his trusty crop. Seamus already feels the sting on his now callous body. How much more is a he able to take? Seamus is bound and dangled upside down with new restraints. Seamus then feels the onslaught of Van’s cat of nine tails. The bite of the cat of nine tails makes Seamus beg for relief, which is given with a help of a good flogging. After some zapper torment, Seamus believes the worst is over. Van promises to stick a dildo in Seamus’ little hole, but soon Seamus ass is stretched to the limit by the Bad-Dragon Dildo, and Seamus is mercilessly pummeled by the high pressure water coming from a nearby firehose. Van covers Seamus’ face with a pillowcase before repeatedly drenching Seamus with high-pressure water. Seamus then gets the chance to feel twice the sting, as clothespins are reattached, and quickly blasted off with the water hose. Seamus only relief is the chance to shoot his cum all over the wet floor.

Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_04 Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_05 Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_06 Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_07

Models in this video: Seamus O’Reilly, Van Darkholme

Watch this video here

Subscribe to KinkMen here.

Seamus_OReilly_Van_Darkholme_gay_bondage_ad

Rubber Coated Spreader Bar

male bondage spreader bar

Available from Mr S, these bars are wrapped in heavy rubber grip tape. You can hold onto it easily as you use the other hand to torture him. The grip tape is overlaid, creating groves that make channels for intricate rope work. The center of the bar has a deeper 1-inch-wide grove that lets you hoist his wrists or ankles into the air so you have full access for your slave’s inspection. Comes in two different lengths.

male bondage spreader bar

Click for Rubber Coated Spreader Bar

Fetters USA gear available here

See all the latest items available from Mr S here

 

Follow-up letter from an inmate

The inmate who did time at Hampton Jail in Iowa wrote another letter, and this time he enclosed a picture! See below:

 

Dear Metal,

Well, I got discharged a few days ago. It was a complex experience, and there are some things that you always knew, but become so real in the lockup.

The place is absent of any measure of time. There are no clocks, nothing to mark the passage of time. Sure, there is a clock tower nearby, but the building air conditioning and the sound of other inmates drowns out those reminders. You wonder, is that the morning light that you see through your narrow line of sight, or is it just the nightlight? I was fooled more than once. Natural daylight has a different hue than light from a bulb, but the grayness of the cellblock paint seems to be very effective in taking what warmth from natural light and turning it into something a bit more soulless.

Many of your senses are dulled, but others just seem to be heighted.

When I got home, I could smell it — the lingering odor from the jail uniform. The uniform, made of a heavy cotton almost denim like quality. The smell stays with you. You can smell it on your skin. And with that smell, you carry the marker of a prisoner — an almost DNA-like connection to all the other men who have worn that uniform before you. You might think of it as a brotherhood, but that is not really it. It is more of an ethereal chain gang that connects us all, the smell of the steel doors and the aged paint, the inklings of dust.

Also, you come to understand the power of the cell door, both as an element of confinement as well as symbol of security. The security to keep you where you are, and the security perhaps of where you are supposed to be. The night in the hole — which I spent because of my bad attitude — was jarring. I slept, but I kept being constantly awakened. Each time, I would test the door, to see if it was still locked — somehow thinking by magic it would not be. Oddly, though, it would be a disappointment if it was unlocked.

The jail experience is one of constant redundancy and routine. I stopped counting the number of times my hands were cuffed and uncuffed. I learned to accept the ankle shackles as the way things are going to be. But also, you find that you yearn to be cuffed, as a proxy to just interact. When the jailer leaves, he closes the door behind him. You are there on your own, in a mental solitude that is just a controlling as a physical confinement in solitary. Your mind wanders, and then in time you begin this odd sense of bonding with your jailer. He holds all the keys, all the power, and all the options.

My experience was at times unpleasant, gripping, soul-searching and frustrating. I learned that doing time means that time moves very slowly.

Your actions, your choices, or decisions not to decide are all in front of you. You make your prison. You realize that you think you are own person when you go in, but in the end you understand that you are just something to be counted, controlled. You are just a number.

 

hampton jail iowa

 

Metal would like to thank the inmate for sharing this information and picture!