Category Archives: Story

Story

Chains

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By lithium500mg

Part One

Whenever I see a naked steel chain I get hard. I want to feel the cold metal around my wrists, around my ankles, tightly harnessing my chest, cradling my groin, and digging into my ass. I want to feel the torture of a chain-mail chastity squeezing my balls and delivering a shallow catheterization when my dick is undisciplined.

Leather? For me leather is a work uniform. My love of the feel and smell of leather is satiated by professional motorcycle racing where thick cowhide is necessary for safety. On racing weekends I’m encased in heavy, sweaty leathers while riding on pavements hot enough to make French toast. I love the animal skin’s shrink-when-wet behavior that requires peeling out of it after a race day is over. In fact, someone on my team has to help peel it off my chest (I can do the rest). Racing fans with pit passes sometimes seem to enjoy the show of a ripped torso that has struggled to keep the bike upright through lefties and righties, corkscrews, and the heavy traffic aiming for the hole shot.

When my team finished the race at Willow Springs, I headed up towards the Air Force base on my street bike to new Master’s rented home. His shift as an MP at the base stockade ended in about two hours, so I had the place to myself. I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt, went to the crate where the linked steel was stored, and began adding metal to my now naked body.

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Story

Prisoner Shackles Used by Aliens From Outer Space

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By Master Margarita

The story I have written here is 100% Fiction and written to give a sensational experience of an event that never actually occurred.

For those of you who do not believe the stories of an Alien Ship crash landing in the Nevada Desert and a Top Secret Military Base in the area where the Alien Ship crashed (better known as Area 51) never existed, I am able to tell you from my personal experience that many of the stories about it are true. You see, I was one of those working for the United States Government at the Top Secret Military Base. The Base had always been considered Top Secret; however the Alien Spaceship was never intended to be the initial purpose for the base.

My story starts with a UFO (Unidentified Flying Object) entering the Top Secret Military Bases Airspace. Any Aircraft, regardless of what it is that does not have authorization within this Restricted Air Space would be shot down. On October 21, 1971 an Alien Spacecraft entered into the Top Secret Military Bases Airspace. The Spaceship was cigar shaped and appeared as a large object, about three times the size of a football field. Military Protocol was to immediately take out anything invading the Restricted Air Space, so that is exactly what happened. A large missile that operates on stealth technology was launched. The UFO was at about a half mile in height and distance from the ground when the missile made a direct hit on the Spacecraft.

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Story

Edge Failure — Chapter 01

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By Bikermike

I contemplated how I had failed as I hung there naked, my wrists in heavy metal shackles suspended from the ceiling; my balls stretched taut by a steel ring, connected to a chain attached to the floor. Thus, my body was fixed there in a tight X shape, my ankles being about three feet apart. There was to be no “stopword”, no release, just the enevitability of a severe beating. l was rock hard and awaited my fate.

I had failed the “edging” test: He had bet me, on the pain of a flogging, that I would ejaculate before an hour of His edgeplay had expired. I will narrate here more or less what happened.

We had met in a nearby bikers’ caff several weeks before. Somehow, our conversation had turned to sex, our fetishes and our perversions. I had confided that I liked man-man sadomasochism; fifty-fifty dom or sub. He told me that while he had “subbed” on a few occasions He considered Himself to be mainly a “top”. He certainly looked the part: He rode a Fireblade and wore a leather race suit that exactly matched the bike’s paintwork. As always, He sat outside the caff with His leathers undone down to His navel, exposing His muscled chest and occasionally allowing a glimpse of His pierced nipples. At six foot four, I somehow could not imagine Him ever “subbing” for anybody!

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Story

James — 2019 Review

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By Thunder

Note: This is the continuation of a long-running story by Thunder. To start at the very beginning, click for James — Part 1. And also see Metalbond Q&A: Thunder

Master Alan pointed out to me this morning that it’s been almost a full year since we have updated you on my training and life as his human dog and thought it would be a good thing for me to come sit and write about the last year. When he said this, I realized so much just feels natural that it’s often not too often I think to document it now.

Last year I wrote about our New Year’s parties and we are currently in heavy planning for those coming up next week. I have not been told if I will be allowed to attend the employee one this year (last year I was caged in the closet) but know I will be at the family and friend’s one diligently looking for scraps on the floor from my all fours position. It was a warm Christmas here in Atlanta, so Master was very excited that I did not have to dress and could stay naked on all fours throughout the day, including two of the holiday parties we attended.

Both of them have private driveways so I was in full dog mode from the minute he left me out of the tailgate of the SUV. I am lucky that he lets me dress and ride in the backseat as a human, but this year he bought a BMW X7 with a big hatch area, so, when in the proper place I now “transform” in the back seat and exit from the hatch. It’s been an adjustment getting my old body to make that jump!

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Story

Borstal Boys

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By Bikermike

Nick and Trev often met at the bikers’ cafe to exchange general bike talk, or more often than not, a talk about their sexual adventures. These included tales and anecdotes concerning their experiences and desires in the world of male-to-male bondage and sadomasochism. They had experimented together on a few occasions; once or twice within a group of three or more men. However, Trev had a regular BDSM ‘partner’, whom he called Roger and sometimes referred to him as his Master, while Nick had to make do with whoever he could find on Recon and who also lived within a reasonable distance.

One hot day during the summer both men met at the cafe and spent several minutes ogling other male bikers, some of which were posing minus their leather bike jackets and T shirts exposing their muscled torsos. Nick said ‘I sometimes fantasise about life in a borstal; y’know, how it was several decades ago when the gaolers wouldn’t hesitate using canes and the birch to maintain discipline. I have read accounts of boys who had been birched and abused, which have really turned me on. Wouldn’t it be great if you and I could somehow live that fantasy for a weekend? Punishment and birching and all?’

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Story

My Rubber and Bondage Life

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By Hothardhat

Hothardhat’s rubber and bondage life, and its development over the years, is a bit of a saga. Like so many rubberist life stories, this one began in early childhood. It is an oft-told tale, usually revolving around yearning to pull on a pair of dad’s knee-high Wellies or some such activity. Well, this narrative is not much different. Dad always purchased his rubber boots at the local Army-Navy store. There are not too many of those around any more. Dad would sometimes go into one of these emporiums of all things delightful to a five year old budding rubber fetishist (hothardhat not yet understanding these impulses).

Dad typically marched in there to get stuff for hunting and fishing. No matter Dad’s objective, son Darren (Hothardhat’s real-life moniker) would insist on going along, just to breathe in all the wonderful smells found there. Yes, those places exuded the most delicious aromas of rubber and leather. There before Darren would be 16 inch high olive drab pacs (as they were called), thigh length hip boots and even chest waders, the ultimate. Yes, those were, indeed, wonderful stores.

There were times little Darren would sneak into his father’s closet and poke his stick-like legs into the big rubber pacs. And then try to shuffle around the room with these oversize boots almost falling off his feet. He had no clue as to why he was doing this. It just was fun, and he was inexorably drawn to these items.

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Story

Trespasser

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By Bikermike

To call Matt a thief or a burglar would be putting it a bit too extreme: really he was an opportunist collector, a scavenger; particularly where the items that he collected were by and large, those that belonged to someone else.

He was also a bit of a loner. At twenty, he really didn’t have very many friends, preferring his own company. He spent time either in his bedroom with his computer or else, when the weather wasn’t raining, out exploring alleyways or paths, seeing what items caught his eye, things that he would like to possess himself.

One decent summer’s day, when the weather was hot and humid Matt decided to explore an area of Norfolk that was accessable by pushbike some ten miles distant from his home. He set off, rucksack on his back, until he came across a lonely looking wooded area that seemed to be criss-crossed by footpaths. Taking a path he followed it until the path ran adjacent to what appeared to be old tumbledown brick barns. Dismounting his bike he climbed over the low, rusty barbed wire fence, intent on exploring the buildings. he pushed open a rotten barn door that squealed on its hinges and entered. Inside he found an assortment of old abandoned farm implements, a rusty plough, an obviously seized-up tractor and several battered and rusting metal drums.

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Story

A Rubberboi on the Farm – Chapter 10

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By R8080

He was sitting at the dining table.

Alex stepped into the mudroom and saw Him waiting in the next room. He had changed, his worksuit was hanging up on one of the pegs now, next to Alex’s own. Alex pulled off the black rubber boots he had used to cross the yard quietly and placed them beneath his suit.

His Master said nothing.

Dropping to his hands and knees, Alex crawled slowly across the floor of the kitchen towards his Master.

He was wearing leather breeches again. Light gray, with black piping down the sides. The inside was a darker shade and only served to highlight His powerful legs.

Alex reached for His boot, but his Master patted his knee instead. Slowly getting to his feet, Alex sat gingerly in his Master’s lap.

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