Category Archives: Story

Story

My Trip to Paris – Chapter 02

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 2:  We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness

We met at La Bête Bleue, which was a couple miles from my house.  He lived in Paris, but he didn’t mind traveling.  And after all, he was my guest; I’d be paying.  I was sure he knew that Bête Bleue wasn’t in the price range of a prison employee.

I got there early and had started on my cocktail when he arrived.  The sound of his ass hitting the booth made it clear that he was heavier than I’d remembered him.  More pounds, but apparently they’d all gone to muscle.  Unlike my extra pounds.  Bête Bleue is dark, but I still had to do my best, keeping my spare tire out of sight . . . .

The big smile—that was new.  Not his bashful college smile—something more interesting.  When you’re in business—when you’re successful in business, anyway—you’re alert to smiles that have had to be learned.  So good for him, he learned it.  And I can’t deny it was attractive.

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Story

My Trip to Paris – Chapter 01

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By Joshua Ryan

This story is for adults and about adults only.  It is also fiction.  Any connection to real entities is purely coincidental.

To BUCK, with deep gratitude for his inspiration.

Chapter 1: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?

I was 34 years old and I was already retired.  That’s what it felt like, anyway.  You’re probably thinking, “Great! Way to go!”  But if so, you may be wrong.

I’d been running the family business—it’s real estate—ever since I got out of college.  It was failing; I made it a success.  And if you think that running a real estate firm is a tiresome office job, you’re definitely mistaken.  As I found!  In fact, my work was risky and exciting.  It kept me going all the time, and I liked it a lot.  Just beating the bigger guys out of the market, hearing them whine about “aggressive tactics”—you can’t top that for entertainment.

Lately, though, I wasn’t liking what I saw when I looked at myself in the metaphorical mirror.  Cash flow great, staff pretty good, kid brother running most of the day-to-days. . . .  Fine.  But no problems, no challenges.  Whatever came up, my listless eyes had seen it all before.  In the mirror—a jaded businessman.

An attractive portrait?  No.  The picture in the actual mirror wasn’t exciting either, if I looked closely enough.  I was 34, but people still called me “the new kid”—for good reason.  Great hair, great clothes, and that million dollar smile . . . .  You can’t beat first impressions.  But I knew what was under the trendy tie and the slightly edgy dress shirt and the soft, gray, reassuring slacks.  I’d put on plenty of weight in the past few years.  And now I was doing what people do when they don’t really have to work—drinking more and more, getting up later and later, looking harder for friends to dine with . . . .

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Raucous Party

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By Hunter Perez

“Jock, will you please let me out of this?” I asked.

“Eventually, Bingo, but not right now,” he responded.

It was around eleven at night and we were in the basement den of Jock’s home. He was reclining on a couch, dressed in tight jeans and a black tank top that seemed to make his pale muscular upper torso glow. I was all in silver – or, to be more precise, I was trapped against a pillar while wrapped from ankles to shoulders in silvery duct tape.

“Look, I’m really sorry about what happened,” I said.

Jock chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve told you already, I’m not angry at you.”

I tried to push my arms against my duct tape imprisonment, but I was unable to move – the binding was too tight to allow even the slightest of wiggles.

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Story

Life as an Owned and Controlled Slave

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By slave Mark

This is a genuine story of my life as an owned slave. I will add further stories if anyone is interested.

I met my ex owner on a BDSM web site after chatting and exchanging messages I travelled to be his owned and controlled slave. Master had told me he wanted full control of my life I would have no privacy no rights no secrets. I would be controlled in every aspect of my life and suffer from any errors on my part.

So I packed everything up and made the 6 hour journey by coach wearing what he had instructed me to wear and following his instructions for travel, I was to sit with my hands on my knees, not allowed to read, eat or drink on the journey during comfort breaks I was to get off coach and stand to the side with hands behind back legs apart head bowed.

It was a long journey which gave me time to think of my life ahead.

Upon arrival I collected my bags and made my way to Master I knelt Infront of him and handed him my bag of personal items including passport and wallet.

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Story

7 Days in Berlin – Part 09

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By Takeo

Day 3 – Thursday June 13th – Training

I do not know how long I sleep until I wake up for the first time. Usually, I tend to sleep on my side, or even on my stomach. But here, the height of the cage under the bed is not high enough for me to turn around. Although I am not really tied up, the straitjacket prevents me from turning over. Without the straitjacket, I think it might have been possible.

Despite being tied up in a neoprene suit in a straitjacket, with my head in the big hood, a plug up my arse, all bathed in the smell of piss, I actually manage to sleep not too badly. Not continuously, of course, but I still manage to get some rest. It is mainly the swelling cock in my cage that wakes me up. My mind wanders and creates scenarios based on what happened during the day, which inevitably leads to painful erections.

When I wake up, I do my best to move my aching limbs, while avoiding waking Sir Flo and Franz, who are sleeping right above me. I can feel their breathing and movements in their sleep and there is no doubt about it, they are sleeping like bliss.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Rainy Night – Part 02

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By Hunter Perez

I squirmed on the bed, uncertain about what was going to happen next. Jock’s drunken gaze was indecipherable – I could not tell if he was laughing at my bondage or plotting about how to further humiliate me.

I tried not to show that I was afraid and thought to myself: “What would JimmyUSMC do if he was in my position?” I then unhappily realized the answer: He would probably be collecting a nice fee for his work. After all, JimmyUSMC gets bound up for a living – no wonder he’s always smiling while in chains – whereas I was involuntarily volunteered into a trap of handcuffs, rope and a ball gag.

After staring at me for what seemed like forever, Jock finally lumbered to the headboard and pulled at the chain connecting my handcuffs. He rubbed his fingers over the cuffs and scratched his fingernails lightly into my skin.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Rainy Night – Part 01

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By Hunter Perez

I looked out of my apartment window at the thunderstorm soaking the neighborhood. It was a Saturday night and, for once, I was glad that I had no plans to go out. The weather forecast called for downpours into the following afternoon, so the warm comfort of my little one-bedroom sanctuary was more than satisfying.

I heated a frozen pizza, open a bottle of soda, plopped myself on my couch, switched on the TV and found an obscure cable channel that was running an endless series of old-time cartoons. Even though I saw those zany films a hundred million times, I could still laugh at Yosemite Sam getting a cannonball blasted into his face or Sylvester the Cat ingesting a dynamite stick.

Somewhere in the animation mayhem, I fell into a sound sleep. It was a beautiful slumber, until my peace was ended with a pounding on my front door that shook me awake. I glanced at my clock and found it was shortly after midnight. Confused and groggy, I stumbled from the couch to the door. I inquired about the source of the pounding and a loud voice beyond the door declared it was my pal Jock.

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Story

15 – Part 02

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By slavebladeboi

I stood for a couple of minutes trying to hear what was going on as nothing else seemed to be happening, but he soon returned. He led me out of the room with his hand grasping my neck. I knew more or less how to get to the dungeon play space even though I couldn’t see but this was just one more bit of authority he held over me.

I heard the locks snap shut on the wrist restraints as he fixed them to the bar. It must have been the bar he was setting in place that took those first few minutes and he’d adjusted it to a height that meant I was reasonably stretched if my feet were flat on the floor but needed to be on tip toe to relax my arms slightly. When he kicked my ankles apart, so he could link them to the chains at ground level, I found tip toe was my only option.

Then silence.

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