By Mister-X / Spartan
“Bobby, could you do me a favor?”
“Name it, Russ.”
“We’re having a bondage party over at the Hermans’ place out on Old Middlefield Road. You know where it is, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got Jerry bound and gagged in my apartment, all restraints locked. I’ve got the keys with me. He wanted to get started early. I need someone to get him and bring him here. Can you do it?”
“I’ve got the time and the wheels with gas. But I don’t have a key to your place.”
By Aquala Guy
You don’t go through life on the internet with a name like Aqualaguy and not have guys asking you if you like wetsuits and dry suits. And of course, I do. I think a hot man in a wetsuit or a dry suit is one of the sexiest things around. But then again, I like anything that’s going to show off a man’s body. True, dry suits don’t show off as much as a wetsuit, but they do carry a sense of enticement that I just can’t explain.
Like most guys who get into wetsuits and dry suits, I am into water sports — although not the type of water sports most wetsuiters think of. I enjoy my watersports of a more colorful nature, yellow if you want specifics. And I have been known to be a little pushy about it sometimes.
By Mister-X / Spartan
It wasn’t going to be easy. I had checked out the guy’s house the day before, ostensibly as a city worker. I had the right credentials for it, arranged by my friend whose photo I was going to retrieve, dressed and acted the part. My friend worked for the city in a pretty high position, and was being blackmailed by this guy. My friend knew that I had done some covert work when I was in the military, having broken into houses before to retrieve information that we needed. I’d never been caught at it because I tried to be as thorough as possible in my preliminary work. That’s always the key to being successful.
By PFC Pflege
I knew when the fifty-six hours were up, roughly, by meal and toilet time. Those were the only times I was partially released, but still hooded over my eyes, and chained. I was fed from a bowl like an animal, and after toilet time, was hosed out with a garden hose. There’s nothing sexy about a naked man, handcuffed and hooded, having his ass washed out with a garden hose. Then I was returned to my cage, hog-chained, gagged, and hooded. Or chained to that damn chair I hated so much. I learned later that I had been hog-chained to that chair in several sessions, totaling just over twenty-four hours of the fifty-six.
By Nate Stone
Sorry for cutting off your questions about my bracelet and vacation earlier today. You deserve the full answer and it’s definitely NSFW. The bracelet is not a political statement. Definitely not a political statement.
It all started a couple of months ago in the Play Pen part of ConCom. Someone posted that he was tired of cyber role play and wanted to experience a real jail and real prison time. A C.O. Jones replied that if the poster wanted something more realistic he should send Jones a private message. I sent Jones one, making it clear I wasn’t the person who posted the original comment.
Jones and I had a long chat online, trading wisecracks as well as credentials. C.O. stood for Corrections Officer, which was what he claimed to be in real life.
By Aussielthrbiker
It was my first year at university. I had moved out of my parents and into a dorm and had picked up a part time job in a department store downtown. Dorm life was great fun but our dorm was pretty quiet – it had a reputation for being the dorm you lived in if you actually wanted to study. My part time job was also great fun; I worked three shifts a week in the “Young Men’s” department. Two were all day shifts when I worked alongside the permanent employees, who were around my age and a fun bunch. However, my favourite shift of the week was Thursday evenings. On Thursdays I worked with Brad, who was another university student. He was in his second year at another university. He was around my height and build, ie, 5’11” and slim. He had blue eyes and short curly blond hair. After the store closed, we would have dinner together at the burger joint across the road before catching our respective buses. Brad would often tell me about life in his dorm, which sounded a lot more active than mine. In particular, he would recount in some detail the hazing, which usually involved one of the guys (sometimes him) being tied and gagged. I would listen intently to his stories wishing this would take place at my dorm. I made this comment to Brad a couple of times.
By ty dehner
The weekend was coming to an end. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the lights of Vancouver started to come on around us, Sir and i walked along the sea wall of Stanley Park. A little bit ago he had gently taken my hand in his and we walked along holding hands. It was a gentle night, as a light breeze went through my BC Lions jersey that i wore. It matched the one Sir had on. We had gone to the game on Saturday night and watched them beat the crap out of Toronto, which Sir thoroughly enjoyed. After we had hit a local spot and had nachos and beer, before heading back to our hotel room for the night. i looked at Sir for a moment and he turned to me and smiled, i did the same in return. i always love looking at him in his jerseys. They fit him so good, tucked into his Wranglers. He had gotten a fresh high and tight after i picked him up before the game.
By ty dehner
The Yuma Territorial Prison was used in the early days of the foundation of Arizona Territory. As you can imagine it was a brutal place to be locked up at during the long hot summer of the desert. Now a State Park, there is very little left of the original prison, but there are some parts — and that is what my photos show. Interestingly, there are still graffiti from the former inmates on some of the walls.
