Category Archives: Story

Story

A BLUF Slave

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By Rubrpig

As usual, the author is in Wescos, nipple clamps, body harness, locked posture collar.  It is also still locked in a chastity belt, and it has been locked up for 3 years. 

Aaron wandered around his apartment as he was feeling puzzled and anxious, but he could not put a finger onto why he was feeling that way.  He went into the spare bedroom where he stored his leathers and boots.  The gear he wore the previous night was on the bed where he put it after getting home from the bar the previous night.  He grabbed the leather cleaner and wiped down his Langlitz breeches and jacket and hung them up.  Then he cleaned his long-sleeved uniform shirt and tie, then his heavy leather jock.  Finishing by wiping down with a rag soaked with boot grease, he put his Wescos away.

Still puzzled by what he was feeling he wandered into the living room and grabbed his laptop.  Logging into a couple of sites including BLUF and RECON.  He noticed that he had a message from a leather Sir that he had been chatting with on BLUF for a couple of years.  He read the message, and it was the same message that this guy had been sending for some time, that he was a pretender as a SIR and that he should be true to himself and admit that he was not a SIR but a slave.  He sat there and thought about the message and then noticed that the sender was on-line, so he replied to the message.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Cure for Insomnia

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By Hunter Perez

It was a little after one in the morning and I was stretched out on my living room couch watching a cable television channel’s marathon of “The Monkees” episodes. My insomnia had gotten out of control and this was the easiest way to stay comfortable while sleep remained elusive. To my surprise, my phone rang – it was Jock calling.

“Bingo, what are you doing up at this ungodly hour?” Jock asked.

“How did you know I was awake?” I asked. “And why are you calling me? I thought you were in Hawaii doing a photo shoot with some surfer boys.”

“I left Hawaii a day early and my flight got in about 30 minutes ago,” he answered. “I’m at the gas station across the street from your apartment building and I can see your living room light is on. I think you’re the only one in the building who is awake at this hour.”

I looked out the window and spotted Jock standing by his Mercedes at the gas station. I waved to him and he waved back.

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Story

The Ashtray

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By Rubrpig

As usual, the author is in Wescos, nipple clamps, body harness, and a locked posture collar.  It is also still locked in a chastity belt, and it has been locked up for 3 years.

Roger was sitting in front of his laptop getting increasingly frustrated as the code he was working on just wasn’t working out.  Sighing, he stood up and stretched.  As usual when working on coding at home, he was wearing a heavy leather jock strap and a fully body harness.  To add some incentive, he had put on a pair of eagle talon nipple clamps and a 1-ounce weight on each clamp just to make sure the clamps dug in deeper into his pierced nipples.  He looked around his apartment and decided what he needed to do was get out and relax.  He quickly logged onto the Eagle’s website to check out what was happening there and saw that it was a Leather and Cigar night.

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Story

A Walk in the Park – Part 04

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By DogcatcherVA

The slave pushed against my hand for all his worth. He liked his attention, you could tell, but after his ordeal who knows when the last time he was touched as gently. I continued to rub his matted hair as I watched him start to go limp. The silence of the dungeon was deafening, my breath whistled through my nose, and you could hear a faint sigh come from the captive.

I pulled back from him and stopped rubbing his head. You could see his lip start to quiver. Not knowing where he had been then before I retrieved him, I decided it was time to get to know the story behind my chained prize. I walked to the sink in the rear of the dungeon space and grabbed a wet rag.

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Story

A Walk in the Park – Part 03

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By DogcatcherVA

I removed my fingers from his mouth and made my way to the door of the cell. I found no reason to remove the heavy chains pinning his arms behind him or the chains on his ankles hobbling him. The blindfold would help shield his eyes from the bright light of the room and keep him disoriented just in case he decided he was ready for freedom. As I got up, I watched the slave rise to his knees and he crawled his best to the water bowl and start drinking. I closed the cell door and walked away knowing in the morning I had one hell of a story to listen to…

Being my worried self, I turned on the webcam and quietly watched the slave from the comfort of my room. His body bent and inverted in a V form, showing off his well-trained smooth torso as he knelt licking the water from the dog dish. Once he had finished, he shook his head like he was trying to dislodge the blindfold still having a death grip on his head. With no change in its hold, he seemed to test the limits of his confinement. Still weak from the ordeal, he scooted around the dungeon area on his knees. The ankle chains clanking behind him and his manacled wrists sitting in the small of his back enforced his slow movements. It didn’t take him to long before Caleb decided to just curl up on the padded floor and drift into a deep sleep.

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Story

A Walk in the Park – Part 02

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By DogcatcherVA

I decided that I should still have him restrained till I find out more about him. So, I undid the cuffs and rubbed his sore arms and then redid the behind his back. He seemed defeated after the quick burst of freedom and motion in his arms and seemed to go into a sulking position. I unlocked the massive chains around his ankles from around the tree giving him movement once again to straighten his legs. You could see the marks around his knees where he had spent the last 10 hours on them. Only one more chain to go, I thought as I unlatched the chain holding his massive helmet to the tree. The poor slave was so sore from being in the kneeling position he could barely stand. I leered over at the captive as he crumbled into a pile of metal and flesh, exhausted from his day long ordeal.

I reached down and scooped up the man in my arms and carried him to the cruiser. You could tell he needed some attention as he sighed deeply as I carried him quickly to the car. I placed him in the trunk of the cruiser, and he curled up the best he could in a ball. I took his restrained wrists and attached them to the chains holding fast around his ankles and slammed the trunk lid closed. The echo was deafening through the park so I decided to head on home.

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Story

A Walk in the Park – Part 01

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By DogcatcherVA

This is a work of fiction. While it would be nice that it is real it isn’t. If you are not legal in your hometown to read such fiction, please do not do so. Also, if you like the story, please let me know and I may write more. This is my first work so please bear with me.

As I write this, I still find it sort of hard to believe. I mean in the area that I live in things like this just don’t happen. Let me introduce myself, my name is Peter William Peterson III. Yeah, my parents where twisted when they named me but as you can see I am not the only one in my family with such a crappy name. I usually go by “Pete” or if you meet me on my job, it is usually Officer. That is right I am a State Trooper. And before you get all those porn fantasies going let me nip them in the butt – I do not mix work and pleasure. I leave my uniform in the closet after I get off work. Yes, I have heard all the pickup lines and I really don’t care. Don’t let me come off as a hard ass because I am not. I am a nice guy. But I have been a trooper for 10 years now and most people go crazy when they hear it. I am 32, 6-foot-1, 205 pounds. No, you can’t bounce a coin of my stomach, but I am in good shape, and I try to stay that way. I run about 6 miles a day and that is how I met Caleb. Ha, Caleb, and I thought I had a bad name.

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Story

Happy Birthday Boss – Part 04

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By Unknown

More Questions

I must have been held captive by Dave and his leather biker cousin for about three days by now. I don’t know for sure because I had no means of judging time other than the rhythm of ‘torture’ sessions and meals. Food was always the same. Cold compo bacon burgers, which I hate, cold baked beans and crumbled dry biscuits. I ate it all even though it was served in a dog bowl in my cage. I spent my time naked, in irons, locked in a small steel cage, on the floor of which was a padded mat. I couldn’t stretch out and I couldn’t stand, in fact I could barely kneel.

I remembered the US prisoners of war in Vietnam who had been kept in dog kennel sized boxes for months and even years. I felt a real sense of empathy with them. I also had a complicated steel cock cage on and my hands were enclosed in leather bags to prevent me playing with myself. So, thinking about it, even if I’d had a plate with knives and forks I couldn’t have used them. The dog bowl was slid into the cage through a horizontal slot at one end and was followed by another bowl of water. In fact I always had water but had to slide it just out of the cage when I slept to avoid knocking it over.

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