Category Archives: Story

Story

Consequences of Failure – Part 02

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By BondageChallengeGames

(Ted’s POV)

It was so fun watching Dustin struggle. I’d sat down with the full intention of playing video games to pass the time while my captive wiggled around on the floor, but watching my fucktoy pitifully try to get free ended up being way more entertaining.

He tried to reach his hands to the chest harness knot. I thought for a second he might reach it and undo himself, it was only a few inches away from his hands. Thankfully his lack of flexibility and the rope pinning his arms to the side meant that knot stayed frustratingly out of reach. Poor guy. I almost felt bad for him.

Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for Dustin, any sense of pity was overshadowed by how overwhelmingly hot it was having a man I could face-fuck and torture. A man that couldn’t do anything to stop me from using and hurting him however I liked.

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Story

Consequences of Failure – Part 01

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By BondageChallengeGames

I stood at attention, stripped down to my underwear, eagerly waiting for Ted to tie me up and reveal what this “challenge” was he’d been hinting at during dinner.

Ted wrapped a length of rope around my chest, tying a knot behind my back. He then ran the rope up over my shoulders on either side of my neck, circling back to the knot behind me to tie a simple rope chest harness. For good measure he ran one more length of rope around me, this time encircling my upper arms, pulling them close to my chest.

I was hard already, something Ted must have noticed. He took a quick break from tying me to reach down and grab my bulging dick through my briefs. I pushed my ass back against him. I reached my arm backwards as much as it could tethered as it was to the chest harness.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Night Before Christmas

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By Hunter Perez

It was around four in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and I was in my apartment flicking the television remote control in search of something to watch. I planned to be alone for the holidays and, to be frank, I was enjoying my time to myself. Then my phone rang and I saw it was from Jock.

“Bingo, can you do me a great favor?” Jock said in a voice that sounded somewhat more tremulous than his normal tone. “Can you please drive me upstate this evening?”

“Can I drive you?” I asked, confused by the request. “You know I don’t have a car. What’s wrong with your car?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my car,” he responded. “I just got a call from the hospital – Dad was brought in with a heart attack. I was planning to drive up tomorrow morning to see him for Christmas, but I need to be there now. The news of his being in the hospital sort of shook me. With the way I feel I don’t feel comfortable doing that drive.”

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Story

Caught in the Act

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By Cutieboy90

“Hey man, I’m gonna shower. Don’t start the laundry yet.” Tony called down the hallway.

“Got it!” I hollered back.

I sat still, waiting for the sound of running water. Holding my breath. The seconds dragged by, as if time had just stopped. Even my heart seemed to slow…

Until at last the rush of water and the clang of the shower door closing signaled the start. This was the cue I’d been waiting for. Like a racer starting at the sound of the buzzer, I was off. Swiftly and silently like a panther stalking its prey, I was down the hall towards the laundry room in an instant. And there, piled in the hamper was Tony’s laundry. A whole week’s worth of worn gym socks and night shirts just waiting to be savored.

I knelt down, taking a particularly fresh-looking sock and bringing it to my nose.

“Mmmmm…” I could never help the initial moan, nor the swoons I felt when breathing Tony’s sweat and musk. There was a sort of spice to his scent, so masculine. I could detect hints of the trees from the park trail he liked to run through, the funk of his shoes, even a faint touch of the Irish Spring soap he used.

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Story

Arresting

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By ty dehner

With his head bobbing to the beat of the music coming from the speakers in his SUV, Austin Dougherty’s mind was not focused on the road passing under the tires of his Carmine Red Porsche Cayenne. Sitting in the driver’s seat wearing black Adidas pants with the triple white stripes down the legs, his right foot, wearing white Stan Smith shoes, was hovering over the gas pedal in case he had to quickly get his machine out of cruise control. Austin was in a black Adidas jacket wearing a white high performance t-shirt under, the shirt having the logo of the major league football team he plays for. The quarterback kept his tight leather gloved left hand firmly gripping the top of the steering wheel.

Heading east through Banning, California, on Interstate 10, the lights of all the fast food establishments on the side of the highway kept the night from being fully dark as the headlights on his Porche illuminated the cracks in this heavily used section of the interstate. The cruise control was set at eighty since Austin has several freeway lanes as the concrete ribbon cuts through the pass between San Gorgonio Mountain on the north and Mount San Jacinto to the south.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Party Guest

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By Hunter Perez

Jock is my best friend and I love him dearly, but there is one thing about him that I dread and that involves his penchant for party giving. It’s not that he’s a bad host – far from it. In fact, his parties are extraordinarily generous regarding the delicious foods being served (most of which he creates in his kitchen) or the selection of beverages made available (some of the most expensive wines and spirits I’ve ever enjoyed).

My problem is that Jock never seems to realize that I don’t fit in with his social set. The guests at Jock’s parties can be divided into three categories. First, there are the money boys – the trust fund babies, the day traders, the hedge fund jockeys and investment bankers who gather and compare their portfolios and share insider tips on the next hot stock. Second, there are the gym bros – they wear the tight t-shirts that show off their musculature while they babble about supplements, steroids and iron pumping. Third, there are the bears – the leather clad beefy guys who congregate on the back porch to smoke their cigars and talk about whatever it is that bears talk about. I’ve never been able to eavesdrop on them, hence my ignorance regarding their conversations.

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Story

A Gallery of Guys

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By Timxen

The guy who works part-time at your gym

The guy who works part-time at your gym and uses it as one of the places He scouts for targets. He noticed the way you looked at certain guys in the gym, the alpha types, how you would watch them just a little longer when you thought nobody would notice, the hint of desire you had. He organised the roster so He could train you for a few sessions now and then, and He took note of how readily you fell into obedience when He asserted Himself. One time He called you a good boy, and He saw the quick flicker of surprise and pleasure before you regained control of your expression. He accessed the gym’s customer database to find out more about you – not that you knew that at the time.

You bumped into Him a couple of times outside the gym too, at one of the local gay clubs, at a shopping mall. He would say hi and be friendly enough but He wouldn’t stay for a chat. You kind of wished He would. He was sexy, and maybe He’d call you a good boy again somewhere more private. One time you thought you saw Him for just a moment right near your apartment building, but then He’d turned the corner and was gone. You might have imagined it.

***

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Story

Éamonn’s and RJ’s Hallowe’en

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By Nephilim

Note: The author’s personal website is here.

Tags : #gay #bondage #supernatural #domination #submission #role reversal #romance #anal #oral #leather

CW : ethnic slur (1), clichés (2).

Length : 11931 words

Éamonn looked at his napping bound boy. The lithe body pleased him a lot, obviously, especially when it was crisscrossed by ropes. The sand colored skin was emphasized by the blackness of the ties. And the electric blue hair added the needed touch of color. Éamonn knew he could bind his boy in leather or rubber, as had been suggested to him many times, but he found those materials way too covering. He wanted as much access to his sub’s body as possible. Even during sessions of sensory deprivation, he used ear plugs rather than headphones and just a strip of fabric over his boy’s slanted eyes. Éamonn admired him. He knew the boy shaved and waxed all hair below his eyes. The boy was a twink, knew it and played along. Next to him, his Master sometimes felt shaggy, bearish, unrefined, rough, unworthy of such a beautiful boy. But he also was what the boy liked and thus played along too. The Irish bearded and brawny fireman and his Japanese scholar hairless twink.

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