By lthr_jock

Red walked along the street, enjoying the way his newly shaved muscles bunched and slid under his heavy rubber clothing. He got more than a few glances, and he wasn’t sure whether they were more surprised by his freshly shaved head or by his gleaming black clothes. Certainly a few stared long enough to spot the thick rubber collar locked around his neck and he strode along the street leaving a wake of incredulous people behind him.

He knew where he was going – the Boss’s place was a 20 minute walk. But as he walked, he felt that something was wrong. Something was out of place. He didn’t know how he knew where the Boss lived; he couldn’t remember where he had been that morning. All he knew was that he was Red but that just wasn’t enough. His brow furrowed as he continued walking, until he found himself outside the Boss’s door.

As he lifted the heavy knocker the door swung open, and Red walked inside. Shutting the door behind him, he found himself in a dimly lit corridor. As he waited for his eyes to acclimatise to the gloom, the Boss walked into view. His cycling gear had been discarded in favour of black rubber. But unlike Red’s gear, this rubber was thin and moulded to Boss’s lithe body. He was wearing a one-piece suit with an attached cod-piece that already bulged. On his feet were high, well glossed DM’s, ladder laced with clean white laces. His hands were in tight, thin black rubber gloves.

“Nice timing, boi. Come on through.”

Continue reading New Years Resolution – Part 11 →

By lthr_jock

As the hours passed, Paul’s muscles cramped painfully in the cage. He found he could relieve the stress slightly by repeatedly flexing them, but still they ached and ached. He could see nothing except the brick wall 6ft in front of him. The leash attached to the back of his collar restricted his head from turning much, so he could only get glimpses of the wall to one side, and the darker expanse of the club to the other. He went to yell for help and found that he couldn’t – try as he might, he could make no sound. Then he realised that he was trying the wrong thing – dogs couldn’t talk. Instead, he tried barking and let out a deep, booming WOOF that echoed in the empty room.

For some reason, that made him feel better, and he woofed to himself a few more times. But still there was no reply from the empty club. Paul found himself drifting, head nodding as he started to fall asleep, and then jerking awake as the leash brought him back to reality. He wondered what he looked like from outside the cage – hairy, semi-naked, collared, booted, mitted and locked into leather shorts. He unconsciously flexed as he thought about the effect seeing all that caged muscle might have. Again, he found his cock trying to harden inside the shorts and grunted with suppressed frustration.

Continue reading New Years Resolution – Part 09 →