Category Archives: Story

Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 03

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By Hunter Perez

“Are you comfortable back there?” Nicky asked through the mesh separating the front of the police car from the back.

“Not really,” I responded. “I assume I’m not supposed to be.”

“You got that right,” he laughed.

I wasn’t quite certain how I should be feeling. Sitting with arms handcuffed behind your back creates a multiple number of issues, which are not helped by being nearly immobilized with a tight seatbelt. I kept shifting sideways and trying to inch forward, but I could never find the right position where I didn’t feel pressure in some part of my body.

Part of me was angry at the stupidity of thinking with my dick – whatever pleasure that was sparked by allowing myself to be handcuffed was erased by the discomfort of my inability to get into a relaxed position.

Yet at the same time, part of me was aroused by the absurdity of the situation. Nicky turned into a truly gorgeous specimen of masculinity, made all the more exciting by his law enforcement authority. Being his prisoner, if only for a brief period of amusement, created a sense of excitement that was truly arousing – perhaps too arousing, as I was also dealing with an erection pushing against my jeans.

I remembered the time back in college when Nicky had me handcuff him so he could service me while I controlled him. I wondered if that was what he had in mind by turning tables in this manner. I then began to recall some stories I read by the writer Joshua Ryan where guys get tricked by sexy cops and correctional officers into getting arrested and sent to prison – those stories seemed so wild in concept, but now I could see how someone could fall victim to such chicanery.

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Story

Interrogation Game: Chapter 3 – Screwed Over

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By BondageChallengeGames

I screamed into my gag. The electrodes on my thighs sent sharp shocks that made my legs tense up. They came without warning and pattern, an irregular cycle that made it impossible for me to ever relax or predict when the next shock would come.

With the tens unit running by itself, Andrew was free to hurt me in other ways. He flogged my stomach and chest again, whipping skin still sensitive from the duct tape strip he had just ripped off. He put the nipple clamps back on, attached with a chain that he pulled in between flogging me. It was overwhelming, I couldn’t focus on anything except the pain. I tried everything to speak, to tell him the code and end it, but I couldn’t make any meaningful sound through the gag, let alone go long enough without yelling in pain.

Eventually my body wore out of fighting. I want as limp in the bonds as I could for standing upright. With each electric shock and smack of the flogger I would flinch and jolt weakly, but any struggle I had left in me was worn out of me.

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 02

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By Hunter Perez

I opted not to block Nicky on social media. Instead, I responded that I would contact him once I had more details on my Albuquerque trip. I quietly resolved not to engage him in further conversation – while I had no bad feelings to him, I was also not eager to pick up where we left off ten years earlier.

The next morning, there was a message from Nicky on my social media page. “Good morning!” he wrote. “I hope today will be a happy and productive day for you. Take care of yourself! Nicky.” He added a couple of smiley emojis at the end of the message. I did not respond.

The following morning, there was another message. “Good morning! It will be a good day for you, enjoy it! Nicky.” A few more smiley emojis were part of that message. Again, I did not respond.

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 02 →

Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 01

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By Hunter Perez

I work in commercial real estate and I am frequently sent around the country to broker property sales and leasing. I am usually sent to the same cities over and over – New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Los Angeles – but one assignment required that I go to Albuquerque to coordinate the sale of an apartment complex. I had never been to Albuquerque and knew nothing about it except that it was a jokey reference in several Bugs Bunny cartoons.

My initial online research into the city turned up nothing that piqued my interest – I am not one for museums and historic sites, so I feared that my distraction options were limited. I wondered if any of my connections on social media could offer better ideas on possible free time adventures in Albuquerque, so I posted an inquiry on my page for suggestions to keep me amused during the leisure time portion of the trip.

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Story

Interrogation Game: Chapter 2 – The Code

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By BondageChallengeGames

The nipple clamps stayed on as he flogged my chest. Each smack caused me to instinctively thrash, which jostled the clamps and only made the pain on my nipples worse.

I tugged at my bonds, but the leather cuffs were sturdy and the padlocks were inescapable without a key. I focused my energy on trying to hold still when he flogged me, to ease the pain of my clamps. But that just made him hit me harder, and no matter how still I held the dull pain on my nipples grew and grew.

I kept my composure, never giving more than a grunt or wince. I was in pain, but nothing more than I could handle. Honestly I was still enjoying it. I’d volunteered for this after all. My dick was hard as a rock.

“What’s the code?”

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Story

Interrogation Game: Chapter 1 – The Stakes

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By BondageChallengeGames

Andrew had one hour to torture the lockbox code out of me and get the key to his chastity cage. We’d come up with the idea of the scene a few weeks ago, as a fun way to do some interrogation with actual consequences and a goal. A way for me to get to endure some of the torment I enjoy during bondage, and a motivator for him to really try and break me.

We didn’t expect to get as emotionally charged as we did.

By the day he brought me into his garage for the scene, he’d been kept in chastity for over a week. Andrew’s husband had loved the idea and served as his keyholder. Andrew was finding chastity to be so much more frustrating than he’d thought. So as he led me handcuffed into his garage, I could tell this wasn’t going to be the carefree fun scene we’d both thought, rather this was his only chance to finally get out of the cage he’d grown to despise.

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Story

Reading for a Leatherman

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Written by ty dehner

“Are you the author?”

After hearing the question from a firm, baritone voice, I looked up from my device to see a tall man wearing what had to be his finest leathers. Without thought, I responded quickly. “Yes, Sir. I am.”

As I stood, the Leatherman took one of my books, turning it over to read the back cover. As he read, I took a closer look at his leathers, starting with his boots, a pair of Wesco Boss that went to just below his knees, with thick Vibram soles that I always thought gave a pair of boots more authority. This gentleman wore black Langlitz Competition Breeches with their distinctive quilted design on the knees and hips. A thick leather belt around his waist was slightly covered by the belted waist of his Langlitz Columbia jacket with quilted accents on the shoulders and elbows. While the jacket was zipped up, Leatherman wore a leather shirt with a leather tie knotted at his neck. Black leather gloves were holding and paging through the book’s first chapter.

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Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 21

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By Joshua Ryan

***This is the final chapter***

I know there are some mystery books that have a last chapter where the detective gives all kinds of explanations.  Steven said he never did that, because “the story ends where it ends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said.

“It means that I’m bored with all your talk about writing,” Steven said.  “You’re trying to get me to start writing again.  Do a book.  Smuggle it out.”

“That’s right.”

“Sorry,” he said, grabbing my cock and pulling me down on the bunk with him.  “I’ve got better things to do.”

All of our literary discussions ended like that.  So I’ll just do what I want and write some stuff about how things turned out.

Obviously, I told him the whole story about how I’d bribed my way in here, and he told me the story about how he’d done the same thing.  He made me excited when he said he’d done it to write a book, but then he laughed and said, “That was a bad idea.  I found out I hadn’t really wanted to write any stories; I just wanted to live in one.  So now I am.  And finally getting to enjoy it.  End of story.”

Continue reading The Prison Writer – Chapter 21 →