Category Archives: Story

Story

Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 10

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By PredicamentBondage

Shit-head is led from its pod to the area of the factory I call “Shaving Corner”. It’s time to get this slave completely stripped.

Shaving a slave from top to bottom has several benefits, the most important being psychological. When slaves see themselves in a mirror with no body hair, no pubes, no pit-hair they see their masculinity stripped away in line with their body-hair. They see non-masculine, non-macho, boyish, emasculated, weak objects reflected back at them. Most don’t even recognise themselves. The psychological effects are immeasurable in helping to make the slave compliant and cementing its status as an owned object.

But… And it’s a big BUT… shaving is very time consuming. Shearing a slave properly can take several hours and needs to be done at least once every four weeks or so. If you consider that we might have up to ten slaves in residence, it adds up to almost 4 working days every month; not practical.

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Story

Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 09

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By PredicamentBondage

Piss-slit is lying on its back on a padded bench. Its wrists are padlocked together under the bench. The back of its collar is clipped to the end of the bench so its head hangs loose, unsupported. Its legs are bound with a 12 inch connecting chain between its ankles, under the bench. Its balls are roped to a ceiling hook forcing the slave to lift its buttocks off the bench and support itself on the balls of its feet.

The 17” monitor is now positioned 24 inches above the slave’s stomach such that it must raise its head and look down over its pecs to read the screen.

I’ve been dreading this. SPEECH LAW NUMBER 3 is more complex than the first two, and piss-slit is a slow learner. I need to be careful not to damage the slave in the process of improving it. I take a deep breath and begin. I need to get this done quickly, as I had a call from The Snatcher this morning. He’s on his way with three new trainees. Things are about to get busy again.

Continue reading Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 09 →

Story

The Drone – Part 3

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By FirefighterSir

Jax snored softly in a hammock hanging in the warm night air, totally exhausted and a bit sore, his tan football player body marked with bruises and red marks. But he slept deeply and easily after being totally drained from his intense experience. Not so much for grunt.

The collared slave was the owned property of the Captain, and as such grunt’s every action was controlled by him. The slave could hear Jax above him sleeping, but his own night was sleepless and uncomfortable.

The cage sitting under the trees wasn’t long enough even for a short stout person like grunt to lay in fully outstretched, so the slave was huddled on his side, bunching up one blanket to rest his head on while the other blanket barely covered his naked body from the cool air dropping down through the forest as the night wore on.

The slave’s mind kept going back to the situation that landed it in the cage as punishment.

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Story

Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 08

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By PredicamentBondage

If Marco could see a clock, he’d know it was not yet quite 11pm, and his debasement is only just beginning. This once proud example of male heterosexuality has been serving as a bio-filter below a popular gay bar for less than an hour and already he’s taken piss from twenty different guys, emptied his bladder once, swallowed about a half-a-pint of spit, been force fed two loads of slimy man-cum and been milked of his own load twice. It’s not looking good for Marco as he still has four, maybe five, hours to go.

Over the next thirty minutes the visitors to the Gents increase in number until at least one urinal is occupied at all times. The club is now about half full and Marco can hear music reverberating through the walls and floor of his basement, adding extra stimulation through the anal-invader to his already highly sensitised prostrate.

He is now consuming piss without thinking about it, and his mind wanders back in time to his life of partying, fucking and playing sports – snatched from him just hours ago. He tries to hold onto the memories but his concentration keeps coming back to his need to piss and his desire to cum yet again.

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Story

Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 07

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By PredicamentBondage

Marco has no way to judge the passage of time, but the screens stay blank for what seems like at least an hour or more. The anticipation of someone entering the toilets to relieve himself, coupled with the slow passing of time, is agony. Marco finds himself holding his breath for several seconds at a time, and festoons of sweat now decorate his forehead.

Suddenly, the two centre screens light up and Marco comes face to face with a cocky looking wide-boy of about 24 or 25 years old. As he fumbles with his fly-zip, the cheeky punter snorts and spits green sputum into the porcelain urinal where it sticks to the surface. After a deal of rummaging in his pants, the guy pulls out a fucking enormous horse cock. He is so big the bulbous head would easily come into contact with the shiny white ceramic if not supported. The dude starts to drain his bladder and manhandles his appendage, directing the stream around the inside of the bowl like a fireman’s hose. The dark golden buttery liquid washes down the drain taking the slime of mucus with it.

Marco closes his eyes and waits.

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Story

The Edge – Chapter 12 – Matt the Demo Boi

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By Steellock

Matt lay on his bed and thought about how his life had changed over the last few months since he left the Marines to become the Demo Boi at the leather and rubber BDSM store by the harbor.

In some ways the change was total but in others it was strangely similar.

The bed he was lying on was virtually the same; a narrow steel framed bed with a thin, slightly lumpy mattress.

What was different was what he was wearing. Instead of cotton shorts they were made of thick rubber with rubber belts locked around each thick, muscular thigh. A rubber pouch at the front held his cock and balls and it was zipped up each side with padlocks joining them to the thick rubber waist belt. Which was also locked.

At the back his butt was filled with a steel plug behind another locked zip.

Instead of military Commando boots he was always wearing tall, heavy black leather thick soled boots that had 20 tidy tight lines of red lacing up the front. The laces tucked under the top of his red socks that were neatly folded down.

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Story

Never Done This Before – Part 4

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By Hotch Rider

The night went on. With every passing minute, my shoulders were aching more. I tried moving them but that limited motion was not helpful. My feet were starting to hurt and they were also cold from the concrete. But the worst part was the space heater. That damn heater. At first the warmth was nice, it relaxed my muscles a bit but now it was just another source of pain. My skin was red and wet. I had been sweating all over and I was thirsty. I could see the sky getting brighter and knew Jack would be in any minute. Those minutes didn’t pass and I really needed some water.

“Jack! Hey Jack! I’m thirsty man. Can I get some water? … Jack? It’s really hot here.” As expected, there was no answer.

“Jack, please! My shoulders hurt. I’m thirsty. Please come!” There was no answer.

“I don’t want to do this anymore, please! I need… I need water Jack. Please!”

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Story

Advertisement

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By Bikermike

This ad that had appeared in one of the Gay websites intrigued me. It read:

Spend a day with two dungeon masters. No stopwords, no release until the mutually agreed time has elapsed. Play will be at masters’ discretion. For further information email …. Or Mobile…..

I emailed them.

I learned that there would be no charge but I could spend either four or eight hours secured in the masters’ dungeon (which was actually a cellar in their house situated in a leafy part of London). In addition, the reply text went on to emphasise that I would be expected to be a total “sub” and that I would have to agree to anything that the masters would wish to do to me. I also understood that there may or may not be more than one “sub” being used at any one time. I could take it or leave it.

There was an attachment. This was a photo of some of their play and bondage equipment that would be used, but that more equipment may be added and used without prior warning. These included whips, paddles, tawses, canes; a medieval pillory, heavy rigid irons, steel slave collars; ball stretchers with or without spikes and electro equipment, which included a hand cranked generator.

My cock dripped precum as I emailed my reply: I would love to spend four hours as their “sub.”

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