Category Archives: Story

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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Story

Skinheads and Legionnaires

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By CREUSS

Part 1

stories by CREUSSI have been serving the Foreign Legion for 7 years, aged 17 to 24. After a couple of years of Service I was a Brigadier Chef, the equivalent of a Corporal. With a couple of mates, Legionnaire or Lance corporal or Corporal, we used to have a night leave at times, and we were enjoying spending our free evening in a Café by the old Roman Theatre. Place was quiet and the owner was rather friendly, as were customers.

When there, we used to have a quiet table at the rear of the café, rather cut from the rest of the crowd. When we were 3 or 4 we used to have at least one row each paying for some beer, so we could have four beers each in one evening, often double of this amount!

You know that legionnaires are not allowed to wear casual clothes at any time when in their first contract. So every time we were having a leave we had to leave the barracks in “tenue de sortie,” our equivalent of number 2 dress. We were not allowed to be outside of the barracks on a leave in combats, too.

One night I was with two of my mates, Legionnaire Mike T., an Englishman, and Brigadier Gary S., a Scot. They were a little it older than me, not much, but still. I was 19 and half myself, just back from the NCO school and to become a Marechal des Logis soon, the cavalry equivalent of a Sergeant!

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Story

And Then It Woke Up

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By GratDelay

Ken Keavey dropped his keys on the table and his duffle on the floor. He was tired but he felt great. He was back from his friend Dmitri’s house and one of the most intense bondage scenes he’d ever experienced. He felt like he had plumbed new depths of subspace. Even now, thinking back on it brought his hand to his crotch. The total immobilization in The Chair, the sensory deprivation and overload, the control of all his most sensitive areas… he was practically ready to do it all again.

But after such an intense experience, what he really wanted to do was to chill. He decided he’d clean off his gear and put it away later and headed into his living room to watch some |||

With a satisfied sigh, Keavey folded up his polishing cloth and set it down. His catsuit was hanging in the shower with a mirror-like shine. All the rest of his gear was cleaned up and properly stowed. After a job well done, he felt ready to chill. He decided to grab a snack before checking out the porn on his Twitter |||

Keavey nudged the last bit of cereal down the drain, turned off the disposal and shut off the tap. Another job well done. He looked into his pantry for something to snack on, but stuff seems to be missing. What happened to his Wheaty Snax or that half-finished bag of cookies from Merchant Pete’s? He felt simultaneous pangs of hunger and dissatisfaction with himself, like he did every night. He’d been meaning to make changes to his diet for some time now, since he’d put on some unwanted pounds; but every night the craving for something sugary caused him to put off his self-discipline for another day.

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Story

The Debt – Part 5

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By Pup Shaggy

After closing the door again and locking the van, Hunter pulled him to his feet dragging him inside. Spencer watched as the van disappeared into the darkness, the first time he’d actually seen it. He kept trying to get to his feet, trying slowly to catch up, but bare feet on stony ground past midnight is not a cup of tea, even without someone pulling you along. Hunter dragged him inside, the heels of his feet dragging behind him, lifting him up the step of the doorway. He was met with a gush of warm air that made him shiver as the luna night turned to electric-light. The open front door passed them as they entered, swinging closed, closing them off from the outside. A picture passed on the right of a family, Hunter distinctly standing in the middle wearing sane clothes. Plain simple shoes lined up on their left. So this was Hunters house?

God knows what you had to pay for a place like this. Saying that, he didn’t see much of the house itself. He was lead directly to a door that looked suspiciously like a cupboard only with a combination padlock.… Once open, they were met with descending stairs and a deep gloom that only comes from being under-ground. They started descending into the basement. Light made way to darkness again as they moved, only now it was a deeper and darker kind of darkness, quickly coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs to another door, only this one had no lock. Once open, they entered a grey concrete room, the first room he’d seen. It was empty apart from the odd wooden beam supporting the ceiling and the house above them. The room was largely empty except for a bare iron frame bed with a stained mattress, a basic chair and a small cage. All lit by a single bulb that dangled dimly from the ceiling. The room smelled new though, retaining that distinct paint smell.

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Story

The Story of Dax – Chapter 10

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By TheBadOne

Chapter 10 – The Order

The dungeon music fades out as I am lowered down the hole between the upper floor and the lower floor. All that’s left for me to hear is the clanking of the chain lowering my rope-bound body, and the jackhammering of my heart.

After everything I’ve been through tonight and all the men I’ve served so far, I can hardly believe there’s more. As I descend below the ceiling into the room full of men, I realize I’m not blindfolded, gagged, or plugged. Whatever is coming next, I have to face it with eyes, and mouth, and ass wide open.

I’ve been lowered into a room that is empty but for the men inside of it. I count twenty-four. On one end stands all of the doms I’ve met tonight. Many more stand in between them and six slaves on the other end, all in full rubber suits- no hoods this time. I see Trevor among them.

And in the middle is Master Shephard. He’s wearing the grin I find so irresistible, and as he strokes his cock at the sight of me trussed up and floating vulnerably, I see him bite his lip and close his eyes as he holds back an orgasm. He’s close- I realize everyone is stroking themselves, even the slaves. And it looks like everyone is as close as he is.

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Story

The Story of Dax – Chapter 09

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By TheBadOne

Before he leaves, Trevor locks the end of my armbinder to a ring on the floor, then shackles my legs together, and locks those to the ring too. He walks out wordlessly, leaving me in a puddle of his piss, moaning uncontrollably as I lay on my side in a strict hogtie. And then nobody else comes. I don’t hear anything except a drip of water from somewhere, echoing loudly into the space I’m in.

I think back to my lengthy sleepsack scene with Master Shephard. He told me that he was leaving me plenty of slack so that I could last, but I even thought that was tight. Now I realize that if this is the standard for tight bondage, the amount of wiggle room I had that night was in fact, comparative freedom. I long for it, for even the tiniest amount of purchase, for the ability to flex my arms even slightly, to be able to make any sound at all other than a pathetic, gagging, drooly sob.

As the minutes pass and my eyes continue to adjust to the dim light, I suddenly realize that there’s a mirror on the ceiling above me. I look up at it and see the gimp I’ve been turned into. Even alone, I’m humiliated. Vega was right, I thought I was some kind of a hot-shot, and I got put in my place.

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