By Marknorth
Part 1
I was in complete darkness and I knew that I was never going to be free again. My knees were sore from kneeling on the cold concrete and the shackles had rubbed my wrists, neck, and ankles raw. I had already lost track of the number of days that he had kept me locked up in this dank room.
By Lars
Originally published in Drummer magazine
Part 1: Preliminaries
In our introductory correspondence, when the cowboy first used the term, it turned me off. Boot slave. Hell, I craved boots, leather and bondage—even rigid bondage—but somehow I preferred the image of “prisoner” or “convict” not slave. The gay connotation of “slave” was, well, too slavish to suit me. Homosexual slaves, it seemed, service their masters voluntarily, wimpishly, without genuine compulsion. Conversely, prisoners and convicts pulled time involuntarily.
By Lars
Originally published in Drummer magazine
If I could just shuck this necklace, I could handle the other shit. Been wearing this ornament now for three years and four months – or is it three years and five months – I’m losing track. It gives me headaches, and no wonder: a three-inch-tall band of thick heavy iron riveted to my neck and welded to a giant 15-foot tow chain, which in turn is fastened to a ring-bolt in the concrete floor. Heavy hardware, I call it.
By FirefighterSIR
Travis knew it was too late, but he was already inside the gate.
Sweat dripped down his pits into his tight grey tank top and stained the edge where it tucked into the tight Wranglers, cinched up with a brown belt and a big rodeo buckle won back in high school. The wet tank revealed his smooth skin spread tightly over his wrestler’s build, still white despite the days of drinking out on the lake that summer.
His thick striated pecs were topped with large flat nips while his arms highlighted the thick triceps and veined bicep from years of wrestling training. A light sheen of golden hair fuzzed his forearms to match the tight buzz cut on his sweaty head topped with a worn camo ball cap.
Travis looked once more at the card he had been given a few days before. Just looking at it made his cock jump:
Unlock your true potential. Challenge yourself, dive deep, and become the man you want to be. Wrestlers and Footballers preferred. A Life changing experience. DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company
Followed by a handwritten password for the company website.
He had just left the big Bass Pro Shop down in Manteca when a dark uniformed man had approached with a smile. The slick fast talk had not distracted Travis from looking over the muscled, bearded Daddy who proffered the card. He said he was looking for models for a new hunting lifestyle magazine. A lean, muscled biker with a drooping trucker mustache and dark glasses had accompanied the first man, constantly scanning the entrance for other prospects while the Daddy spoke.
Written by an anonymous friend of Metalbond
Part 4
“When you’re not being neurotic, imbuing the experience with so much seriousness it seems like a life choice, what’s your favorite type of bondage situation?”
Tim laughed nervously in response to the preface of Jason’s question. He hesitated. “Um … Not sure, I guess.” Tim felt shy talking about the mechanics of bondage in a semi-public setting.
Jason said, “Well, you must have at least one recurring fantasy about gear that you use to jerk off sometimes.”
A story that has been re-imagined by Kiggle
Part 4 – Continued
He next took the crotch strap and pulled it, carefully through my legs, and fastened it to the buckle at the back. It felt comfortable at first. Then a firm but not sharp tug made it considerably tighter. At first I thought it might be unbearable, but after a second or two the feeling it engendered was one of security and firmness, not pain. Odd, I thought, but done with such care and attention to detail that I began to think that Brig had used part of the week at least, to practice on someone else.
By Marknorth
Part 1
I missed the damn bus! I had thought I had more than enough time to get to the station before it left, but I had been wrong. I was in a panic when I got to the station and realized that I had missed it by about 20 minutes. I had to plead with the clerk at the bus station to make an exception and get me another ticket. He eventually did, but made sure that the replacement ticket was the most restrictive kind there was.
By Marknorth
Part 1
I really hadn’t done anything all afternoon but watch the clock. It was almost 3:00 and I was starting to get nervous. The FedEx deliveries were usually brought around usually by 2:30. Maybe he didn’t send it or it was sitting down in the mailroom. I knew I was running tight on time and couldn’t be late or all the planning would be for nothing. It was a one chance deal – don’t show and don’t bother trying again. It was Friday, I had next week off, and I had finally gotten up the nerve to fulfill a major fantasy – I was going to give up complete control.