Category Archives: Story

Story

Retail Slavery – Part 02

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By Rubrpig

As usual, the writer is locked in a chastity belt, plugged, wearing Wescos and a heavy locked posture collar.

The alarm went off and the slave rolled over and groaned as it slowly woke up.  Its heavy leathers creaked, and it slowly swung its legs over the edge of the bed and the thud as its Wesco’s thudded on the floor.  It was now used to sleeping in full leathers, a hood and boots as it was now fully used to its standing orders issued by Master Steven.  It stood up and headed to the bathroom.  It unbuckled its breeches, and shoved them down, the heavy leather piling up as it was stopped by the tops of its tall boots.  It reached behind and worked the butt plug out of its hole and between the coated cables of its chastity belt.  It put the butt plug in the sink and moved over and sat down on the toilet.  After pissing and shitting, it stood up and cleaned itself up and went back into the bedroom and began stripping so it could shower and douche, so it was ready for the day.

After its shower and several douches. It dried itself off and then used a hair dryer to dry under the heavy steel belt that now formed part of its body.  Once it was finished, it walked back into the bedroom and saw that there were several messages on its phone.  It picked up the phone and read the texts.  The texts were from Master Gregory, its new Master, with orders to report to the store at 9am and it was to wear its chaps, tactical boots, and its heavy Langlitz jacket.  A second text ordered it to bring its head muzzle, and its heavy leather straitjacket.  The slave replied to the texts that it would obey and be there as ordered.

Continue reading Retail Slavery – Part 02 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 12

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By bondagegimp

Matt and John

Did Bob send me a message? I don’t know, but the small gesture gives me some courage. Despite the cramped conditions in the cage, I start to resist a little. I rub my head against the bars and finally manage to pull off the blindfold. I can’t help but laugh. Something like this would never have happened to Bob. I’ve never managed to get rid of anything he put on me! With Bob, everything is always double-locked. Unless it’s a trick. Is that why I was able to run away? Is it all a game?

The blindfold is only a small victory, because I can’t free myself from the remaining restraints. But at least I can see a little bit again. I can’t see out the windows, but at least I can see the trunk and the dog cage I’m stuck in. I don’t feel quite so helpless anymore.

After a short drive, the car stops and the trunk opens. Matt is a little annoyed about the blindfold, but it doesn’t have any further consequences. They pull me out of the cage by the leash and toward the house. It stands, like all the houses around here, very isolated in the landscape. They pull me into the house and immediately down the cellar stairs.

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Story

Eagle Grove Steelworks – Part 04

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By Atlanta Stud

Note from Metal: This is a continuation of a story from a while back. To start at the beginning, click here

It was nearing the time they needed to pack up the Wrangler and head back to Eagle Grove when they returned to the cabin.  Jacob was guided to a wooden chair as Seth fished out the transport set and swiftly locked the on the leg shackles.  He saw a puzzled look on Jacob’s face.

“I’m getting you ready for transport, prisoner Hawkins.  Stand up and turn around so I can remove the Peerless cuffs and lock on the transport cuffs.  Excellent, you’re such a good prisoner.”

“Hang tight and I’ll grab the gear and load up the Jeep.”

“You know, if you un-cuff me, I can give you a hand, dude.”

“No can do, prisoner Hawkins.  You’re an escape risk,” Seth said as he threw him a wink and a smile.

Making it back to Eagle Grove in good time, Seth pulled over on a quiet country road to remove the transport set before pulling into his driveway.  “I almost hate to take these off you, Jacob.  You almost look the part of a real prisoner. Just need that official uniform and prison cut and you’re all set.  For now, we’ll have to make do with what we got.”

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 11

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By bondagegimp

Going for a walk

I wake up when Bob gets up and realize I barely slept. The sun is shining into the room. The night was hard. I could hardly sleep in the tight restraints, but that was probably also due to the heavy thoughts that were troubling me. Yesterday was really too much. I can’t do this. My mind is made up: As soon as I can make the decision, I will leave Bob.

My only concern is whether he’ll actually allow it. Sure, he’ll ostensibly give me the choice. Bob has never lied to me; he keeps his word. On the surface. Because in the end, he always gets what he wants. Will he manipulate me? He still has plenty of time to brainwash me. Or will he trick me somehow? In any case, he’ll want to make it look like I made the decision myself. I spent the whole night wondering how he’d go about it.

Bob comes back to bed with me, where I’m still wrapped in the leather straps. He lies down next to me and cuddles. I don’t respond, trying to keep my distance, not letting myself be seduced. Still, it feels good. Bob plays with me until my cock is hard again. “Yesterday wasn’t easy for you. I thought we’d take a little trip today. I wanted to show you some of the beautiful scenery. We’ll leave after breakfast!”

Bob always manages to surprise me. I’m happy to finally be able to get out again. He won’t be able to lead me on a leash, or in handcuffs. A little bit of freedom. But I remain suspicious—I still remember the “party” well.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 11 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 10

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By bondagegimp

In the office

How many days have passed since the party? 4? 5? It’s not easy to keep track when you spend a lot of time in masks or cells that don’t let in daylight. I wonder if Bob is doing this on purpose? Does he want me to lose control, to lose track of the days?

Today I’m allowed to see something again, although not completely freely. I’m wearing a rubber mask that, instead of proper eye openings, has several small holes in front of my eyes, a bit as if someone had randomly punched about 10 holes in front of each eye. Daylight comes in, which is pleasant. And I can see something, which is also an improvement compared to some of the last few days. But it’s difficult to focus. Sometimes my eye looks through one hole, then the other. It’s usually easier to close one eye and look through one hole with just one eye. But that’s tiring, and only a small section, a small tunnel. Somehow oppressive. So I look with both eyes, without focusing.

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Story

The ‘Just Bondage’ Session

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By Anonymous

A chance meeting at a local sauna sparked a conversation that uncovered our shared secret: a deep craving for heavy bondage. I admitted I can’t recall a time without this pull, a need so strong it drove me to years of stupid and reckless self-bondage experiments that cheated death but I was still hooked. He shared his own tale, voice hushed, eyes distant. His first taste came with an older woman who bound him in rubber and leather restraints, her head-to-toe latex igniting a lasting obsession. After they parted, he bought his own rubber gear in secret, experimenting alone until a self-bondage accident went so wrong it scared him so bad he locked his gear away. Neither of us sought romance or sex—just the raw intensity of bondage. We knew the risks of going solo, so we built a partnership grounded in trust to explore this together. One chance meeting gone right.

It’s 9 AM, and the room is set. A glossy black rubber sheet hugs the bed, anchored to the frame were 13 straps that would hold him in place. An electric blanket beneath and three infrared lamps above cycling 30 minutes on, 30 minutes off, would keep him warm.The air carries a faint scent of rubber and silicone lube, sterile yet heavy. A bag for the piss tube hangs discreetly by the bed, and my tablet displays real-time data from his Bluetooth oxygen sensor and heart monitor. A large bag of electrolyte hydration drink hangs on a small stand, its tube connected to the bite gag for when he needs a drink. Everything is prepped, negotiated and tested—this is his fourth session, and thinks he is ready for a 10-hour plunge, from now until 7 PM.

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 09

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By bondagegimp

To start at the very beginning, click for Part 1

The party

Bob had already changed into very, very short leather shorts that just barely covered his powerful butt and ended where his thigh muscles began to bulge. On top, he was wearing only a tank top that showed off his muscular upper arms. It was, once again, incredibly sexy. What worried me was that if he was going to the party like this, he wasn’t making much of a secret of his fetish. So what would he pick out for me?

Bob leads me on a leash into one of the rooms next to the cell—another tiled room with shower facilities. Near one wall, a chain hangs from the ceiling, attached to a winch. He attaches the ring on the front of my muzzle to it, directly under my nose. Then he tightens the chain over the winch. I have to follow the chain; at first, it pulls my head up so that I have to look up, but Bob continues until I have to stand on tiptoes, facing the wall. Now he loosens all the restraints, but I hang completely helplessly from the head harness. He then takes off my PVC suit, my diapers, and removes my plug, catheter, and all the other cock rings, etc.

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Story

The Deputy Sheriff

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By Rubrpig

As always, this slave is writing while wearing Wesco big boss double buckle engineers, locked in a Carrara chastity belt, padlocked wrist restraints, and a locked posture collar.

Adam shrugged his heavy muscled shoulders to ease the stress, and his body armor creaked as he flexed.  His biceps strained the short sleeves of his tan uniform shirt.  His shirt was soaked under the armored vest.  The vest was heavy and made heavier with all the equipment he had attached to the vest.  He was tired but he was near the end of his shift on highway patrol.  Just then a leather clad man on a Harley passed his cruiser but he was just below the speed limit, so Adam just looked at the rider.  The rider was obviously heavily muscled under the heavy black riding leathers.  The rider wore a matte black full-face helmet so Adam could not check out the rider’s face, so Adam lost interest and headed back to the sheriff’s station to end his shift.

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