Category Archives: Story

Story

Gear 365 Revisited

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By Rubrpig

Adam stretched and yawned as he woke up. He sat up in bed and looked around feeling something was missing and he knew what it was. His Daddy was away visiting his elderly parents at their retirement home in Texas so was gone for a few days more. Even though they had been together for nearly 2 years and had recently married to confirm their commitment to each other, Daddy Mike’s parents were still not the most supportive of parents so when a visit was necessary, his Daddy would go alone to prevent the stress of a visit to Adam.

It was the weekend so not much was planned except for a hockey game that night. Adam was a goalie on a local team and he enjoyed the physical challenge of the game and of course the heavy goalie gear. His team mates knew and like his Daddy and so he was always included in the post game activities along with the wives and girlfriends of his team mates. He got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen to make coffee and figure out something for breakfast. He scratched his stomach and brushed his hand over the heavy steel cararra chastity which he had been locked into nearly 2 years ago. The belt was now just part of his body and he had even gotten over the concern of his teammates seeing the belt locked on him. It was now just accepted and Adam was now relaxed and happy with all aspects of his life now.

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Story

Edge Failure — Chapter 02

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Note: This is the continuation of a story that was started by Bikermike. For the first part, click here.

By slavebladeboi

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.

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Story

Thirty Hours

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By rts

Part 1

I am wearing my 20-hole steel toe Rangers with tight black thick leather pants tucked in. The leathers have a removable codpiece, and centered over my butt is a round opening directly placed to give access to my butthole. My upper body is clothed in a tight leather shirt over which I am zipped into a heavy black collarless motorcycle jacket. My hands are gloved in leather gauntlets. I am standing in a very warm underground concrete cell waiting in silence and dressed as I was told to be.

Over my head there is a chain hanging from a pulley. The end of this chain is attached to a hand crank mounted on one wall. The cell is about 12 X 12 feet, windowless with only a steel door for access. I am excited standing here uncertain of what’s to come. I have only met this leather wearing skin online, I wanting to experience an inescapable bondage weekend in full gear, and he wanting to put a booted guy in some uncomfortable restraints getting off on watching the struggle. After discussing the gear I would be wearing, agreeing to be under his total control for the weekend, and he to respect my limits I prepped myself by fasting 24 hrs before our meet and gave myself a good cleanout. Following his instructions I found his place late Saturday morning and let myself in the back door then down the stairs to this underground cell. We had only met online and talked on the phone about our interests and we hit it off.

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Story

Bondage Buddha

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A real life experience by ty dehner

Through a chain of events, that were totally unexpected, i was asked if i would be interested in playing with a Top that is well known in the community, during his visit to the Seattle area. He was staying with a friend that had a dungeon. As communication continued, i found out that i had met his friend a couple of times and knew he was a great guy that i had enjoyed visiting. We had never played but had gotten along very well when we had met at a couple of local dungeon parties.

The Saturday arrived and i headed down to the Lars home. Larry was going to be late, because of a mix up in his flights. Lars and i had a great visit and talked about many things. He gave me a tour of his complex, a beautiful home, with indoor pool and a wonderful dungeon. The dungeon, which i would get to know intimately, was well laid out with many pieces of furniture that Lars had made himself.

When Larry arrived, we visited some as he rested a bit from the long drive from the airport. Then he wanted to get started. And who was i to disappoint him. We went to the dungeon and laid out the gear that was going to be used on me.

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Story

Mistakes in the Military

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By slavesoldier

It’s a little after noon on a hot sunny day and the sun is streaming in through a window above me in the cafeteria. I’m sitting on a bench at a table with a plate of food in front of me waiting for the order to eat. Others are still gathering their food and taking their seats, marching in a prescribed orderly fashion. The food isn’t all that appetizing but I’m starving, it’s been a hard day so far.

Sitting, in this unit, means sitting on the front 2 inches of the bench, feet together flat on the ground with knees at 90 degrees and together. Upper body is erect and rigid with back straight, chest out and stomached sucked in as much as possible. Head is level with eyes staring straight ahead, no expression is allowed. Hands are placed on knees. It’s a position of attention from which no deviation is allowed.

We live by a strict code of discipline and are never without orders or expectations. We are expected to be the absolute best. Best in training, best in physical condition, best in drill and best in appearance so that presumably, we’ll be the best in combat. The consequence for even the slightest mistake can be brutal and the grip that the commander has on this unit means that what happens in the unit stays in the unit. The unit performs, he gets rewarded and we do as ordered. We all genuinely fear this man and wouldn’t dare cross him, even when his methods of enforcing the code of discipline exceed what is authorized by regulation.

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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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