By John Strickland
an excerpt
From behind, Zac tugged Keagan’s T-shirt over his head.
“Hey!” exclaimed Keagan. “My T-shirt!” he said.
Keagan had a great body. He had filled out a lot since the last year to become athletic and muscular.
“You don’t need a T-shirt,” said Stefan, already picking up the straitjacket. “Leather lining!” he said. “You sure you’re ready for this, Keagan?” He noticed Keagan’s nipples were erect. He noticed Keagan’s crotch was bulging.
By Marknorth
Part 1
I was never much of a jock. Alright, to be truthful, I wasn’t athletic in the least. I had never played any sports in High School – I was too small and too uncoordinated. I hated gym class – it only proved the point and the other guys never failed to point out how inept I was. They hated having me on their team as I was sure to screw up and cost them the game. The football team was the worst at harassing me. They would make sure that I was somehow tackled by mistake every time we played flag football in gym.
Hey guys, here is a challenge from Metalbond and Mister-X: Read the story below and then post a comment or send me an email about what YOU would do, and what you would like to see happen next.
What would you decide to do?
By Mister-X / Spartan
Many of us who live alone dream about having someone always available at our beck and call to put us into bondage. But how many of us, when suddenly given this opportunity, would trust a perfect stranger to now live in our home and perform this task?
Part 1
I met Matthew during my first week at uni and discovered, much to my pleasure, that he was in all the same lectures as me. He was a surfer type, 6 foot, athletic build, with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
At the end of lectures on Friday afternoon, he asked if I would like to drop by his place for a coffee. I lived in a dorm on campus; Matthew shared a house with two other students about 10 minutes walk off campus. He explained that his house mates, Nick and Brad had gone away for the weekend.
By Catdude
The box sat in the middle of the room, nothing about it all that distinctive. The only thing that would draw attention to it where it placed next to another wooden box was the hooded head that poked out of a hole in the top. The hood that could be seen at a casual glance was a English s10 gasmask, it had been modified so that instead of straps at the back it was the front part of a rubber hood.
By MarkNorth
He is locked in the cage his eyes pleading with me over the top of the gag. His wrists and ankles weighed down by the heaviest shackles that I have; with short, heavy chains limiting his every movement. He is not happy – but I could care less.
It is obvious that he finally regrets his decision to become my prisoner. They never believe that it is for “real” until it is too late. They love the idea of being a prisoner or a slave or losing control – the excitement of the fantasy. So they blissfully agree to sign the contract or lock the collars on.
By John Strickland
an excerpt
Zac sat down on the wooden steps leading up to our deck. I sat down next to him, my leather pants creaking.
“Come sit down, Keagan!” Zac said.
Keagan plonked down a step lower. The sun glinted off the buckles down the back of his jacket and gleamed off his PVC-covered thighs.
Zac and I were both studying Keagan’s straitjacket. It was the real thing, – a Posey asylum jacket with a red trim to the top of the jacket.
By PFC Pflege
Part 1
I met Mark through friends of mine. He was 19 years old; I was 28. It was the summer that everyone was gin-rummy mad, and played whenever we could. Most of the guys were in their early twenties, and didn’t have a place of their own yet, or, if they did, it was a small apartment. Since I had just bought a house, it was natural that a lot of the games were played there. We’d have 6 or 8 guys playing, sometimes more; none of us had a lot of money, so the stakes were real low. On the weekends, if the fever was on, we sometimes played all night, nodding over the cards as the light of early dawn filled the rooms.