Dan looked down over his real estate, or at least that’s what he called it. It measured a mere 5 foot 10 inches, had hazel eyes, light brown hair, 29 years old, and was moderately muscled in a healthy way rather than with a full-time gym membership.
At the moment it was lying on a bench that Dan had made specifically for the purpose. Good thick timber legs holding the 8-foot length at waist height, the bed of the bench being planks covered in a thick rubber layer with just enough “give” to show an indentation if you stuck your thumb into the surface. Sturdy leather straps held the limbs and body in more or less any position you wanted as long as what you wanted was either arms at the sides as if it were standing or outstretched as if it were being racked. This was enough choice for Dan.
The piece of furniture and its occupant were both reasonably new to the cellar in which they were situated, having been in one case made there, in the other brought there, just two weeks ago.
Continue reading Real Estate
Jaz opened his eyes, or at least thought he did. It made no difference to what he saw. The soft, cushioned leather blindfold stopped even the merest chink of light from penetrating his darkness. He felt around him as far as he was able to, being restrained in a somewhat loose spread eagle by wrists and ankles to the bondage bed with just enough wriggle room to prevent cramp setting in.
The restraints were expensive leather ones with the same sort of cushioning on their inside which held you tight without pinching or chafing, a bit like having four strong, warm hands holding you in position. He moved slightly and felt the contrast of the cool rubber surface of the bondage table as opposed to the hot sweaty area his body had made throughout last night.
The night? Was it now really morning? Jaz had no way of telling. Even without the blindfold the playroom could be pitch dark being, as it was, ten feet below the living room floor, the only daylight coming into it from the top of the stairs if someone had left the hall door ajar. He had slept, but for how long? They had played for what seemed like hours and hours, he and Harrison. H, as he liked to be called, had certainly demonstrated his expertise during that time. Jaz saw nothing and could protest little, the inflatable pecker gag putting paid to conversation that was more than a squeal, moan or swift noisy exhalation of breath.
Continue reading Jaz and H
“Probably” I said looking at his angry face.
I continued to look at him, red faced and pacing the room.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Greg thumped the table with a tight fist, sat down and then slumped forward with his head in his hands.
“I was thinking of the weeks living with you whining and pleading about wanting a no safe word scene.”
“I could have died in that bloody cellar. You….”
“Oh stop being so dramatic Greg. Of course you couldn’t have died in there. I spent over 9 hours watching you bitch and moan. Do you really think I didn’t know what was happening to you?”
“You’re a bloody sadist”
Continue reading It’s Not Over Till I Say So – Part 02
As my bondage goes it was reasonably simple. A collar, a length of chain and a few accessories. Of course, the devil, as they say, is in the detail.
The collar was solid steel, thick, heavy – it weighed several pounds and you certainly knew you were wearing it although several subs have told me afterwards they thought it was wearing them.
The chain was also steel and no light weight. It connected to the front of the collar and ran tightly straight down Greg’s chest, over the abs and connected to a ring round his cock, then to a 5lb ball stretcher weight, after which it forced its way between his ass cheeks where it kept the electro plug well and truly secured before returning with no slack whatsoever to the back of the collar. Quite near to the shoulder blades a couple of links ensured his wrist restraints could not move downwards and he had no desire to lift them, something of a physical impossibility anyway considering their position.
Oh, and a blindfold.
And that was that. I left his legs free to do as he wanted but eventually had to use a gag on him. Moaning and pleading can get tedious for the listener, even over the intercom.
Continue reading It’s Not Over Till I Say So – Part 01
He sat there, although there was very little else he could do in the circumstances. Right wrist cuffed to right ankle, left wrist cuffed to left ankle and a short metal rod between his ankles which meant he could roll onto his side but that was about all. When his back ached too much he pulled his knees up to his chest, when his legs needed a stretch he straightened them again as much as he could. The cycle repeated itself in shorter and shorter spaces of time. He’d had his clothes on at first but they came after a while, cut and tore his shirt off, laughed as they pissed on him, pushed him over onto the wet concrete where the puddles accumulated and left.
He’d more or less dried off when they returned. This time they rolled him over and began to cut off his jeans. He’d protested at this only to hear one of them sigh. The same one, when the cutting and tearing had ended with him now only wearing his 16 hole boots, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal spring loaded clamp. They forced his mouth open and fixed this to the end of his tongue making his protests noisier but less coherent. The final addition was a thin chain, one end fixed to the clamp, the other to the centre of the ankle bar. This pulled on his tongue relentlessly unless he pulled his ankles tightly to his body but even then it wasn’t enough to get it back into his mouth. And of course it made his legs ache even more.
Continue reading Thief
Note: This is the continuation of a story that was started by Bikermike. For the first part, click here.
Good single tailed whips are not cheap and this one was not even close to cheap. I was no expert in these things when I purchased my first one but took a deal of time to find out what I could and get advice from those who knew. I ended up with what I thought was the perfect beast. Actually beauty and beast. The craftsmanship was exquisite, perfectly balanced from end to end. I could grip it and feel the power running down its length, almost feel the pain it could unleash in the sub’s muscles or, if I wanted, the gentle kiss of the leather as it stroked the skin of whoever was tied stretched in front of me.
I stepped behind the boi, judging his reactions as he turned his head slightly to follow the sound of boots on concrete. I’d play him for a while, let him think it was all I had before showing him reality.
It took very little effort to bring the tip of the leather into contact with his shoulders, the merest arm position and wrist action. He winced, no noise. A few more and his breathing became more obvious but still no other noise from his throat. Small red lines began to appear on his summer tanned back, hardly noticeable really. I positioned my feet for a better balance and swung my arm. This time it made an impression. He obviously had decided to clamp his jaw shut but the Hmmmmph he made showed me that he was feeling more than the kisses he’d been given so far. A few more, I left about 20 seconds between each one.
Continue reading Edge Failure — Chapter 02
Charlie hung there, from the overhead beam, his feet about 6 or 7 inches from the floor. The strain wasn’t too bad although, after this long, his arms and shoulders were beginning to feel it. First he had stripped. The big black guy had been meticulous with the bondage. Charlie’s wrists were both in high quality leather wrist suspension restraints that the guy had taken time over. There were no pinch points, each strap had been buckled, unbuckled, readjusted and finally hooked to the rings fixed to the underside of that ceiling beam. When he had finished all the preparations, he had Charlie stand on a box about 18 inches high so it wasn’t difficult or painful to stand there and let the guy fix his arms above his head.
Next to the box he initially stood on, on either side, were two small pillars a bit less than 10 inches high simply waiting for Charlie to reach out a foot, stand on them and release his arms from the building pressure his muscles were feeling. But there was a catch. He’d been told there would be, simply not what it was. Charlie had thought the test would be to see how long he could hang, the heat in the room making him sweat and increase his thirst, before using those two boxes he could easily reach. He wasn’t concentrating enough to think about the cold metal spiral butt plug which had been carefully screwed into his ass or why it was there apart from making him horny or the ring around his cock which was connected to it.
Continue reading Charlie
Daz slowly winched the captive up by his wrists, closely wrapped in the leather restraints that shone black under the one downlighter that was positioned directly above the ceiling fixture. He stretched him just enough to tighten the muscles in his abdomen but not enough to be uncomfortably in stress.
His sweaty body shone as the single light source now on in the cellar picked out every curve of his muscles. Daz slowly dribbled a massage oil down each upstretched arm starting at the wrist. I watched it trickle down his arms, pool slightly around his neck then carry on over his chest, him wincing every time my hands touched the chain connected to the tit clamps, and with both hands together I rubbed it around his body until it glistened, wet with the fine sheen of polished naked skin.
Continue reading The Purchase – Part 06