At Bound Muscle Jocks, a captive’s education continues as the Master takes him from the cross and leads him on all fours to the whipping post. After the prisoner is secured, the leather strap and whip come out. The captive is starting to come to terms with his predicament!
See the VIDEO by joining Bound Muscle Jocks
Title of this shoot: Get Hard for Me, Part 6
Pig trussing by Flex Beefy. Tied up, drenched, piston fisted in his cage, Axel is just a glorious piece of meat.
See the video here
Site: Axel Abysse
By Joshua Ryan
The bright light came on. We scurried to put on our uniforms. Sergeant Wong appeared in the cell, lined us up, and welcomed us to what he called “your first morning behind the High Walls.”
The Sergeant supervised us as we made our beds and turned our blankets into tofu cubes. Then he conducted us and our blue plastic pails to the Wash Room at the end of the corridor, and guarded us as we waited in line to squat over the 20 toilet holes, piss in a steel trough accommodating 20, and use our pails to wash and shave our faces in the water flowing into the sinks, which were also troughs accommodating 20. He then returned us to the cell, where he “organized our labor” by giving out jobs. There were two prisoners for every job—“this is the PRINCIPLE of COLLECTIVE RESPONSIBILITY.” Two prisoners got the job of cleaning the sink, two got the job of swabbing the floor, and so on. I got the worst job—scrubbing the shit holes. Me and Farmboy. We had 15 minutes to get our brushes out of the locker, bend and scrub, and wash the brushes thoroughly in the trough—sorry, I mean the “sink.” The Sergeant walked past and told us to go deeper into the holes. We did.
Here’s more from Tickled Hard. In this video, this is Dean’s first time being tied up and tickled, and you can see in his eyes that he’s excited and a little apprehensive about it. Franco tickles his hot gymnast body on his torso and inner thighs, first with his fingers, then with long wispy feathers. Dean grins widely and laughs deeply from the tickle pleasures Franco is giving him. Franco blows raspberries on Dean’s ribs and abs, which they both find extra fun. After digging into Dean’s deep bellybutton with a wet finger, Franco tickles him on his pelvis, inner thigh and taint at the same time. Dean is startled by the sensation and gets quite a look on his face! Franco pulls down Dean’s underwear and tickles his sensitive inner thigh with his beard before moving to Dean’s size 9 feet. Franco pops off Dean’s running shoes and tickles him into ecstasy on his bare feet with a soap saver and grooming brush. He treats each foot separately, then both at the same time, which drives Dean crazy. Dean’s gravelly giggles become more and more shallow as he tries to catch his breath and begs for a break. Franco obliges, sucking Dean’s cock while he plays with his asshole. Dean’s knees spread wide and he thrusts his hips, moaning in pleasure as he shoots his juicy load. Franco sucks Dean dry, then continues stroking him, teasing his sensitive cock. For the final tickle, he digs deep into Dean’s bellybutton and ends with his armpits and ribs. It leaves Dean grinning from the experience and happy to come back for more.
Video available here
Site: Tickled Hard
Wait, there’s more! Behold, the latest videos at Men in Chains, which include “Vegas Bound: Part 4” and “Blake Suspended From Under a Bed”:
Watch these videos NOW at Men In Chains
By Joshua Ryan
The sun hit my eyes and almost knocked me out; in those windowless rooms I’d forgotten that there was any such thing as sunlight. I heard guards screaming around me; I felt my shoes smacking the concrete as I tried to run. Then I heard “Squat! Gear on the ground! Squat! Gear on the ground! Squat DOWN!” I saw lines of prisoners crouching, their gear stationed in front of them, and other prisoners, lowering their gear, preparing to squat. Somebody—that old guy from the Uniform Room—stumbled, spilled his stack, then bowed and fumbled and bowed again, while a guard stood above him, shouting. I made it to the third line and crouched, heart pumping out of my chest as the last of the prisoners got in position and the guards made a circle around us. At least these guards didn’t have rifles.
But where was I? It was a giant field covered with concrete—old concrete, the kind you see where some big building used to stand, and now there’s nothing left but the floor. Around it, other old concrete, a city of old, yellowish buildings . . . . What did Gordy say? He said they’d repurposed some of the warehouses, and the old factory floors . . . . Afterwards, they must have given all the buildings that coat of Soviet paint . . . . Covers the weather damage, anyway . . . . Smokestacks are still there . . . . Must be the railroad on the other side . . . . But thinking about real estate couldn’t make me forget the pain spreading up my legs. The pain of having to squat on the pavement like a toad! Whatever might exist in my head, my life was totally dependent on the choices of these men in their little light blue shirts.
