Category Archives: Story

Story

Copdar – Worth Being Late

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By Cuffsandcops

Last week, I took a half day from work in order to get my teeth cleaned. My dentist’s office is located on the western edge of the city limits and several small police departments serve the surrounding area. Back more than a few years ago, I successfully got an officer from one of the PDs to cuff me and sit me in the back seat of his patrol vehicle, so every time I have an appointment on that side of town, I wonder if the opportunity will rise again.

I really wanted to get my truck washed before my appointment so I left my house early enough to account for that errand. The line at the car wash was way too long, so I decided to hook a U-turn and head towards the dentist on a road where I knew some officers liked to park while monitoring traffic. As I passed by a large parking lot next to a church, I noticed a marked SUV up against the tree line.

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Story

Chain Gang – Part 08

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By slaveobjectx

The Lucky Day

When you’re a slave, you get to thinking. There’s a lot of time for thinking in a place like that penitentiary. I was no great shakes at learning — lazy and a bum rather than stupid, I’d say now. But in there you get to thinking all kinds of things. Oh, there are the normal things — like when am I gonna be fed and will it be, like, worth eating? Let me tell you that sure doesn’t go a long way in a place like that. You need more to fill your time than the thoughts of a dumb animal. That’s giving in to them. That’s playing their game. There’s no books and sure as hell no TV — nothing to educate you except what you make of your situation. I guess I’m apologising in advance for giving you some of the thinking I did and I’m not claiming it’s profound or anything.

Like this whole thing with the chains, welded on and all. They’re there, they’re like that, to fuck with your mind. If you were tied up, say, rather than in chains then I think you’d waste a lot of time thinking about escape — because you know ropes can be cut. All right, you may not have a knife but then you might be foolish enough to keep your hopes alive by thinking of a bit of broken glass, or a jagged beer can or a broken beer bottle. But what way is there out of chains and metal? They know that. It fucks your mind because you soon know there’s no way out, know it deep inside yourself. The reason chains have always been used to bind slaves and animals is to keep them in their place and that place is pretty damn low so that a slave begins to think he’s an animal and not a man. Then, they keep you in a place, a physical space and you soon know you’re not going far with the weight of them, and the restricted length of them.

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Story

Chain Gang – Part 07

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By slaveobjectx

Urinal

Having a ring inserted in my nose was only the first of the piercings — but it was the one that broke me. All the rest? The nipples, scrotum, ball sack, Prince Albert? These things… just happened to me. It’s not that I didn’t feel them — of course I did with nothing to dull the pain. But the mind dulls the pain when you have been so thoroughly dehumanised as I had been — you go onto another plane, another level of consciousness. You kinda float above it all, like your mind soars up to the ceiling and looks down at what is happening. It’s you down there and yet not you — a physical you, just a body. That’s how you survive, that’s how you get by, that’s how you survive and endure all the whippings and kicking and slaps and cattle prods that lie before you. You learn to get into that space.

It’s been forced on you now — simply because of the unrelenting nature of it — a piercing, another and another — all without regard for any feeling you might have. But if you’re smart you learn the lesson. They’ve taken you to a place you can retreat to when the going gets rough — into a place that rises above the pain and the humiliation. They’ve shown you how to survive this hell-hole.

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Story

Sadistic Blacksmith

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By Art Intelli

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty yard outside the blacksmith’s forge. The clang of hammer on metal echoed, sharp and unforgiving. Inside the forge, the heat was almost unbearable, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning coal.

The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks and a face set in a permanent scowl, worked with practiced precision. His hands, rough and scarred from years of toil, moved with surprising dexterity as he heated the iron rivets to a glowing red. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his latest task.

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Story

Copdar – Grocery Store Guards

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By Cuffsandcops

The grocery store at the bottom of the hill has become a gold mine for getting cuffed. I know it sounds strange, but it’s true. Over the summer I began noticing a security guard was posted up near the self-checkouts. He is a big dude, 6-foot-5, probably 300 pounds of thickness. He wore most of his gear on his vest and had a weapon on his hip. I tend to shop later in the evening when there aren’t many other customers.

One night as I entered the store I saw the guard looking at the case of donuts and baked goods. I approached him and asked what kind of cuffs he was carrying. He pulled a pair of black chain cuffs from the front of his vest. They didn’t look like Peerless or Smith and Wesson but were along those lines. I asked if I could experience being cuffed. He looked at me funny.

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Story

Look at Me, slave

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By boyryan54

Boyryan54I am trembling. My shoulders and back are aching, and my knees screaming from the stress position. Hunched over in the cage, arms behind my back in a rubber arm binder, pulled up and attached to the top of the cage. The top of my muzzle is secured to the top front of the cage by what I am guessing is some rope, ensuring my body leans forward. My legs folded on themselves, secured with thick rubber belts over my rubbered body.

I have been mewing and mumbling into the gag in my mouth, but not sure how much is being heard due to the muzzle over my hooded head. The blindfold and ear plugs ensuring all my senses are heightened, and I moan as I feel a bead of sweat roll down by back between the rubber and my skin.

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Story

Biker Becomes Guard Dog

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By Art Intelli

The moon cast a silver hue over the quiet suburban neighborhood. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. A figure in black leather slinked through the shadows, eyes darting to and fro. The biker thug, his face hidden behind a bandana, crept up to the back door of a modest house. He pulled out a set of lock-picking tools and set to work. Within moments, the door clicked open, and he slipped inside.

The interior was dark, but the biker’s night-vision was honed from years of experience. He moved silently, like a panther stalking its prey, unaware that he was the one being hunted.

Suddenly, a light flicked on, blinding him momentarily. He blinked rapidly, his eyes adjusting to see a tall, imposing figure standing in the doorway, a gun trained on him.

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Story

The Caged Pornstar

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By BondageChallengeGames

The trucker had snagged a good one. A pornstar famed for his big cock, huge loads, and ability to cum multiple times in a row. He’d be perfect. The trucker had driven out to Vegas, where the pornstar was currently working. After some internet searches and stalking, he’d found the apartment he was staying at and walked up to the door with a large package under his arm. He sat the package down.

The trucker knocked on the door, it was early in the morning. He knocked again. Then again. Finally, a tired and clearly frustrated man opened the door. The pornstar had wrapped himself up in a blanket to meet this unexpected early visitor. The trucker, dressed in a UPS outfit, held a clipboard up to the pornstar.

“I need you to sign this”

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