By PrisonCub
If sitting in the little cage was part of a plan to scare the living shit out of me, it was working. The room had ten of these fucking little cages. No windows that I could see. Florescent lights mounted to the ceiling and of course one was failing so the thing was flickering and humming. I just sat there in stiff prison denim and restraints.
By Dr Mad Max
General Notice to Readers of Dr. Mad Max’s Procedures:
The Revised Dr. Mad Max Stories may include variations in images and story line from the original.
Dr. Mad Max is written as an entertainment to Bondagezine readers. Understand that the Dr. Mad Max stories allow a flow of bondage ideas that are captured in photos of real situations. However, the reader must understand that the story line depicts activity that is based on both fantasy and fiction.
By PrisonCub
How in the hell had I gotten here?
I was walking down a long, drab, institutional green hallway with a Sheriff’s Deputy holding each bicep with leather-gloved hand. The Deputies were dressed in two shades of gray; light gray shirts and dark gray pants. The patches on their arms indicated the County Sheriff’s Office where I lived.
By Marknorth
The guards pushed me forward and I fell, unable to keep my balance on the spongy floor. I barely heard a noise that I assumed to be the cell door closing. As if I needed that extra security to keep me here — being locked within this suit was prison enough.
By Marknorth
I didn’t care for the plaster encapsulation of my head at all. Breathing through straws stuck in my nostrils as the plaster cured didn’t do it for me a tall. In addition to the straws, the plaster shrunk as it dried and kept getting warmer and warmer. I’m not claustrophobic by any means – I’ve been locked in a shitload of bondage hoods, sometimes for days – but that plaster really got to me.
By slavesuit
I was bound and struggling in this heavy bondage suit for a few hours. The stimulation in the chastity belt kept me on edge but never provided me an orgasm. I was completely frustrated yet loving every moment of this bondage. Clearly, I was being provided with the best gear and scene that I had ever had. At least once this guy came back and released me; I would have had enough bondage to last me awhile. But did I really want it to end. After all I was in heaven.
By Quandt
I have worn a Latowski belt through airport security.
I flew from the Palm Beach Airport to visit a friend in San Francisco. I took off my boots and threw all my stuff into a gray plastic tub.
By Erik of Roids N Rants
The shiny black Slick It Up hood is stretched tight around my head, muffling every sound. There are no eye holes, only a hole for my mouth, and I’m totally blind and helpless as I’m being guided deeper into the apartment. Disoriented, I have no idea where I stand, and suddenly I’m seized by too many hands to count and held in place as my arms are pulled behind my back and a rope is tied around my wrists. There is no going back now.