Category Archives: Story

Story

Event Urinal – Part 05

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By Nitro

Nitro make bdsmSIR continued to rub the back of my head while he and his friends continued to catch up, laugh and tell stories. They were all sitting around and enjoying an afternoon cocktail and occasionally looking over at the rubber toy that was on its knees beside SIR. SIR snapped his finger and pointed at the ground in front of him so I immediately went over on my hands and knees and flattened my back like a table. SIR lifted his boots and laid them across my back like a footrest. Feeling the weight of his boots pressing me down made me groan into my gag and the position was making the zipper of my suit press the monster plug in even deeper.

“MMMPPPPHHHHHHHH”

“Sounds like he is enjoying his place for sure, SIR,” Tom said from the next seat over. “Too bad we can’t get to that plug – I would definitely like to piss in it later when it comes out. With your permission of course.”

“Oh I promise you will get the chance Tom. He will be well worn out by then I’m sure,” SIR said.

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Story

Journal to Hell – Part 04

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By rts

male bondage storiesMy harness is restrictive, stiff and heavy. The tight crotch cradles my butt and affects my walking. The other prisoners all have shaved heads and look to be around my age and physical build. There are three skinheads walking with us, and each has one of those control-box shockers that seems to control two prisoners. A fourth skin (the one from the gas station) is definitely in charge of the others. All four of them are booted in 20-hole Rangers, dirty Levi’s bleaches held up and pulled tight on their butts by braces and showing significant bulges, mostly stained with piss.

The three in control of us all have zippers down their butts and look to be in their late 20s. The fourth skin (the overseer) walks down the line of us and with a black felt tip writes a number on the back of our shaved heads, from 1 to 6 (Jake is No. 5 and I am No. 6). He gives the order to the controlling skins, “Move these fags out.”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 26

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By Joshua Ryan

The truck didn’t take me to the field hand barracks, where I thought I was going. It turned into the driveway to Mr. Hamilton’s house instead. I thought, this is probly what he does whenever he buys a new workie — he wants to see the goods. But —  OK, this is just too hard to talk about, except just a little bit. We pulled up to the side door of the house and I was handed over to this old workie named Cicero, who’s the bigshot up there, and he gave me this funny look and said, “Yes, we’ve been expecting you. Mr. Hamilton is busy right now; I’ll take you to your room.” So right away, it was a room not a barracks.

So he took me down to the basement — which is really nice, for a basement — and he unlocked the door to a little room and told me to wait in there, and he closed the door and locked it, and yeah, it wasn’t a barracks at all, it was just like a bedroom, with a bed and a dresser and a little mirror and so on, so what the hell? It was almost like I was back at home! I did remember how Butch was living someplace next to the House, so maybe this was good, cuz maybe he was still there! Which would be SO great! But I never thought they’d keep him there. I always thought he’d get sent back to the coffle. That’s just what I thought, from looking at him.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 25

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By Joshua Ryan

The month or so before I was supposed to graduate, the tension was building. I was studying for final exams and also getting letters from colleges saying I was either in or out. I dealt with that stuff kind of in the background. Mainly I went around lookin at all the things in my life like, pretty soon, I’m never gonna see you again. My friends, my school, the house where I grew up — they were like, in the past already. My dad and my brother had been like that for quite a while, and they seemed to feel the same about me. I mean, they had this look like, “Are you still around?” I guess we were never a real close family.

I’d been dreading all these things that happen at the end of high school — like, proms and yearbooks and graduation ceremonies and so forth — but they were in the past too. I just did them. Although I didn’t go to the prom — none of the guys asked me! LOL! But I did put on the robes and march in the graduation ceremony. Of course I was thinking, these people think that WORKIES look like clowns!

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 24

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By Joshua Ryan

After that, I was so nervous, I could hardly sit still. Geometry class! What a nightmare. With My Fate Hanging in the Balance like that, I had to worry about theorems! And it took DAYS for something to happen. Actually, I was sittin in Geometry when I got the text from Mr. Sinclair: “Come out to the Center. I’ve got an answer for you.”

I should have walked outta class right then, but I was such a good boy that I waited till it was over, LOL! Then I got on my bike and rode out there. As soon as I got into his office, Mr. Sinclair said, “Well, Noah, you’re in luck. Mr. Hamilton has expressed an interest in acquiring you for the Farms.”

“Sweet!” I said. “When do I go?”

“Hold on,” he said. “Mr. Hamilton made a good offer for a preliminary contract. Preliminary. But he told us that under no circumstances will he make the purchase until after the subject graduates from high school.”

“You mean I’ve gotta hang around till next June?”

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Story

Getting Wet

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By bootboy

bootboyDon’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.

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Story

Gimp Training, Week 5

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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.

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Story

Gimp Training, Week 1

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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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