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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 07

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By Atlanta Stud

Dave had yet to take his shower that morning when all this took place, so he announced that he would be getting it in while we stayed locked up in the living area, but not before he repositioned my hands behind my back, double locking the cuffs and unlocking the shackle around Brody’s right ankle and locking it around my right ankle. We stood there for a few minutes taking it all in. I mean seriously, what the hell just happened in under 24 hours?! I couldn’t help but look at Brody’s crotch. The bulge was even more prominent with the chastity device securely locked on.

“Does it hurt? Your cock being locked up in that thing?” I asked Brody.

“No dude, good thing, huh. Feels weird. I mean, I can feel my cock in that cage, but that’s it. I can’t feel my jock against my cock. It’s like your hands are in a set of boxing gloves. You can feel the gloves around your hands and wrists, but you can’t really feel much of a sensation from the exterior,” Brody said.

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 06

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By Atlanta Stud

After Dave led me (Jake) back to our room, he went back to Brody’s room to find him still standing in front of the mirror, tugging a bit on the cuffs locked through the ring on the transport belt. Standing directly behind him and putting his hands on Brody’s muscled shoulders, he leaned in and quietly said, “Yeah, that’s it stud, keep tugging on that metal you’re locked up in. Ironic that all that muscle you’ve worked so hard on can’t help you right now. But you like this, don’t you, not being in control. I could tell that first day you tried on those cuffs we bought. Bet you’re in ROTC for the same reason, so you can have someone telling you what to do. Am I right? Tell me I’m right, Brody.”

Brody turned to face Dave, swallowed hard and kept silent.

“Yeah, just what I thought, big boy. So here’s what I’m proposing for the week, and when I’m done with the proposal, you’ll have until morning to give me your answer as you’re locked to your bunk for the night. First, I’m the Warden around here and you’re the inmate. This week you’ll be wearing that jumpsuit that you seem to like so much, or you’ll be in your fatigues, boots and your new ARMY T or shirtless if the weather dictates. You’ll see what’s been issued to you each morning after you shower. At all times while indoors, at minimum you’ll be locked in legcuffs, but for now get your ass on that bunk.”

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 05

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By Atlanta Stud

I’m not sure who had it worse the rest of the way to the cabin, Brody or me. Every time he adjusted his feet you could hear the leg shackle chains, and I’d get horny just thinking about him locked up in a full set of transport shackles. Of course, actually seeing him locked up whenever I’d turn to look at him while chatting didn’t help my situation, either.

We finally reached our destination, and I must say that although the cabin wasn’t huge, it was nice and the property certainly provided privacy. Dave parked the Explorer and unbuckled Brody’s seat belt so he could get out and asked him for the keys to the cabin. Brody told him to unhook him from the transport set and he’ll open up the cabin.

“I don’t know, man. You look like a dangerous fugitive to me. Where’s the keys and I’ll open it up,” Dave said back to him.

“Small pocket on the duffel bag.”

Brody knew he wasn’t going to win this one and hoped it would lead to finally getting unlocked. As we grabbed our gear out of the Explorer, Brody smirked and said, “Gee, love to help, but I’m a little tied up right now.”

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 04

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By Atlanta Stud

With spring break approaching, Dave and I wanted to get away from campus, but we didn’t feel like hanging out with a bunch of college kids in Daytona getting wasted every day. We were on the web looking at potential cabins to rent for a week at a state park when Brody popped in and asked what’s up. Filling Brody in, he told us to scrap that plan because his folks have a small cabin about three hours out that we could all go to … that is, if we didn’t mind having him along for the week. So it was set that we’d leave that Friday morning of spring break.

When I got back to our room after taking my shower the morning of our departure, I noticed two packed bags on the floor. Dave saw the inquisitive look on my face and said not to worry, everything I’d need is taken care of and to get dressed. He had laid out my attire for the trip … jeans, boxer briefs, long-sleeve olive thermal shirt, brown belt, my desert tan military boots and day old socks.

I was pulling on the boots when Brody, in jeans, short sleeve sweatshirt and his black speed lace military boots and sporting a fresh military haircut walked in carrying his duffel bag. “Let’s hit the road, men!” he barked as he dropped his duffel bag on the floor.

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 03

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By Atlanta Stud

The drive back to the dorm wasn’t but fifteen minutes, and we scored a parking spot close to our dorm room’s entrance. I scooted up a bit in my seat so that Dave could access the cuffs to take them off and he just said, “hang on a sec and I’ll get the door for you.” With that he came around and opened the passenger door and said, “You know those cuffs are staying on until we get to the room, don’t even think of asking me to take them off.”

OK, so I had been getting into our rope play and boot and sock control for a couple months now, but wearing cuffs through the dorm hall back to our room was definitely taking it to a whole new level in my book. I was going to be seen by several of the guys on our floor, just no way of getting around that, and how the heck does one explain this?

I actually got pretty lucky that nobody was walking down the hallway, that is, until we were about four doors away from our room and we come across Brody, who lives two doors down from us.

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 02

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By Atlanta Stud

Hogtied on the floor, belly side down and Dave’s sweaty socked big toe had invaded my mouth and along with that some specific instructions as to how part of the rest of the night was going to be spent. After a couple minutes, Dave removed his socked toe from my mouth, took his sock off and placed it right under my nose. The sweat from his feet combined with his leather boots was intoxicating. He bent down near me and began telling me things that I didn’t know this farmboy had been paying attention to over the past semester.

“You see, cowboy, I’ve been paying attention to some things about you this past semester. I’ve noticed that you often wear the same no-show socks with your sneaks several days, even a week at a time without washing them. Even saw you a couple times take a whiff of ’em when you pulled them off, you just didn’t realize that I actually saw you do it. Seems to me, cowboy, that you have a thing for sweaty socks, and feet too I bet.”

With that I shook my head no in trying to convince him he was wrong, but he continued by telling me that it was cool, because he was going to enjoy having his feet taken care of by me all semester long starting with tonight as he reminded me that the ropes weren’t coming off until he was satisfied with my work.

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Story

Iowa Cowboy – Part 01

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By Atlanta Stud

The first week of my college semester I met a great guy who hailed from the tiny town of Pella, Iowa; basically a farming community.  He was a typical midwestern farmboy in every sense of the way wrapped in a hot 5’ 10” tight muscled frame.  He had a natural cowboy look about him and you could tell he knew it too, and it was rare for him to be seen in anything other than jeans and western boots from Fall to late Spring.

Whereas Dave was into his boots, I was into sneakers, especially New Balance, and also desert tan combat boots, my so-called winter shoes.   When my sneaks got to that point where they maintained that nice sweaty aroma even when not having been worn a day or two, that’s when they won that special place in my heart.  It wasn’t uncommon for me to wear the same low cut or no-show socks a week straight, or no socks at all just to help ’em get there that much quicker.  Seems I’ve always had a thing for smelly sneaks and socks.  Who knows why certain things make us “tick,” but for whatever reason, that had an effect on me.

Although we lived in different dorms, we spent a lot of time together helping each other with the dreaded required courses we shared, grabbing a beer, and catching the home football games.  Dave has a natural take-charge attitude, and though I wouldn’t consider myself passive, I found myself attracted to his dominant personality.  Practically inseparable, we decided to room together beginning the second semester at my dorm since the rooms there were bigger and a bit closer to most classes than where he was living on campus.

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Story

Caught by the Contractor

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By SockgaggedJason

gay athletic men in bondageOwen was bored with his office job at a large design firm. He piddled about, unsatisfied that a newly earned college degree from an Ivy league school wasn’t bearing fruit. Perhaps majoring in Art History was a bad idea. As he came to and from the elevators to work every day, he paid little mind to the chaos in the lobby. A large suite on the first floor adjacent to the lobby was under heavy construction. Noise, dust, and a flurry of dirty laborers going in and out of a large plastic tarp draped over the entrance to the area.

Several days in to the mess, however, one of the construction workers caught Owen’s eye. The blue-collar worker was young, maybe just a few years older than Owen. Lean and handsome. Clean cut. Perhaps a mix of white and Latino. Always in a basic t-shirt that showed off his muscle toned arms, blue jeans, and a baseball cap turned backwards. And, the same pair of beat up large work boots. Size 12 or 13?

Owen took as many smoke breaks as he could to justify trips through the lobby or an outdoor area where he often saw the stud. He barely even smoked and never at work.

He secretly took pictures of the sexy broey man. Pretending to be texting on his phone. Particularly his footwear. The thick, tan work boots were scuffed up and well used. Owen had a “foot fetish.” He dreamed of licking his smelly feet.

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