Category Archives: Story

Story

A Custom Built Isolation Cell

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By Scribe

I am quite proud of the dungeon I have built in my basement. I have a cross, bondage table, doggy cage, and sling together with the usual equipment; hoods, sleepsack, restraints, floggers, and whips. The problem is, my visits with an available dom are infrequent. My bondage equipment requires that someone else secures me and releases me. I never get as much bondage and punishment as I would like.

Consequently, I read with interest an ad from Discipline Technologies offering to build a prison cell in my own home. I could imprison myself without any help and remain incarcerated for up to two weeks before being released, again without outside assistance.

I requested additional details and received a packet of information illustrating designs and options. The cost was substantial but the product looked very exciting, much beyond any bondage I had ever experienced.

I chose what DT called a pit cell. The cell would be in my basement dungeon but entry would be from a trap door built into the floor from the bedroom above.

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Story

The Shackles of Curiosity – Part 03

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

“I know that I am the one who can remove your Shackles. But before I do, you must prove yourself worthy. You will be my Apprentice,” Tony commanded. “And you will show me total Obedience and Submission. If I tell you to move, you will move. If I tell you to kneel, you will kneel. And if I tell you to suck…”

“Fuck you!” Peter blurted out, although from being naked and in chains, and actually brutally attracted to Tony, he didn’t really mean it.

“No, Houdini. Fuck YOU! If you ever want any hope of getting those fetters off of you, you will obey my every command and satisfy every whim. You got it?”

“Yes,” Peter murmured.

“Yes, Master! Apprentices serve their Master!”

Continue reading The Shackles of Curiosity – Part 03 →

Story

The Fifth Man

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By Cuffed Locked

I didn’t expect to end up in chains. But thinking back, I probably should’ve seen it coming. It started a few weeks before with a lawnmower and a stupid joke that I took seriously.

My name is Nathan “Nate” Keller, and about a month back I was out cutting my front yard. It was one of those hot Saturday mornings where the sun bakes the sidewalk and you question all your life choices. That’s when Grant Mason, my neighbor, a hot firefighter, leaned over his porch railing with his usual beer in hand and said, “Hey Keller, when you’re done with yours, why don’t you do mine next?”

He said it like a joke. I laughed like it was one.

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Story

It started with Mitts – Part 19-3

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By Bondagegimp

Jad and Tom

Speechless, I stare at the cell door. In the end, it all happened so quickly. With my last glance, I saw Jad lying chained to the table, struggling against the gag and mask, writhing, with the plug in his hole. His strong, muscular body, completely in black rubber, only his cock sticking out and Doggy playing with it. Jad, the macho, now just a defenseless, whimpering piece of rubber, overcome by his own lust. What a transformation.

So we leave them both behind. Bob doesn’t give me any time, dragging me along by the chain. On the way, he stops briefly in another room, gets a simple rubber muzzle without a gag, and puts it on me. We continue up the stairs to the living room. There we lie down on the couch again and watch the two of them via the CCTV. Jad is still resisting his restraints, but with a palpable resignation. Doggy continues to use his relative freedom to work Jad all over his body with his mouth, especially Jad’s cock.

Continue reading It started with Mitts – Part 19-3 →

Story

Starlight – Part 01

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By Raybound

The Starlight Bar certainly lived up to its name. The half hour drive out into the desert was transformational. With the light pollution of the city gone the whole sky was an inky blackness, punctuated by innumerable twinkling lights. I drew my vintage VW Bug cabriolet into the parking lot amongst the hordes of Harleys and pick ups.

The bar’s name flashed in blue neon and country rock blared from the interior. I sat for a couple of minutes, contemplating what I was doing, weighing up both the risks and the benefits. I had seen online that the place was a hangout for bikers and leathermen, the latter being what drove me.

I thought that I would just have one drink and see the lie of the land. This was certainly no place for a preppie looking thirty something. I wasn’t naive, I knew that I might easily be swept out of my depth here. I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer.

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Story

Lucky Prisoner

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By slickchaser

I was asked to be a part of a “prison restraint” demonstration amongst a small group of enthusiasts wanting to see what was available. Sent by my friend Gerry, this setup involved no heads-up meeting, only some requests for sizing of various things and a signed waiver. The party was in a countryside home, set up in a black metal building outside the main house. Gerry only informed me I would be handed off to his buddy who simply went by “Sir C,” with the C being for “Captain.” Without divulging too much, he basically explained that captain had been involved in the sales industry for prison restraints, and, now in retirement, he still showcased to casual or serious observers on proper prison “sequencing.” I was told to be ready for mild to wild.

Gerry led me from the car to the building, where inside was Captain and two other aides, whom he didn’t name but told me they would be “heavily involved” with whatever predicaments lied ahead. The building was laid out with dark grey floors and some lights set up on poles and about 10 chairs around. Captain informed me I had to get ready soon as the party in the house would be walking over any minute. No intros, no pleasantries, just ordered to strip, and with the two aides, handed a one-piece orange jumpsuit that, once I had on and zipped up, fit very firm and neat on me. Gerry waved as the two aides finished on me and simply departed behind the main area, sitting on a lone chair as if he signaled “goodbye” to me from afar.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 08

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Eight: The Test of Hands

The morning came with a shift in the air.

No whistle. No commands.

Just silence.

Peter sat on the edge of his cot, arms limp, legs heavy from the ball and chain still welded to his ankle. The collar remained tight around his neck — by now more a part of him than an intrusion.

Then came Wade’s boots. Slow. Deliberate. Dust-streaked from dawn patrol.

“On your feet, chain boy.”

Peter rose.

Outside, Colt stood next to a second prisoner. Younger. Pale. Dressed like he’d been dragged out of a dorm room and dumped in the desert. His eyes were wide, darting. He trembled at the sight of the twins.

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Story

It started with Mitts – Part 19-2

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By Bondagegimp

Jad

Bob holds me in his arms for a long time. I feel depressed. So weak and exposed. Subjugated. Bob has shown me his power. He has shown me how much he has me in his grasp. He makes the decisions. Not me. Just because he shows a moment of weakness doesn’t mean anything will change for me. I actually really like that about Bob, that he has no problem showing himself to be weak and vulnerable sometimes. He doesn’t have to constantly play the macho like Jad. Jad doesn’t allow himself any weaknesses; he always has to be the tough guy.

That’s probably why it’s hitting me harder than expected. The restraints aren’t actually very restrictive; it’s this five-point chain combination that I’ve had several times before: a collar, then a chain to the handcuffs, and then to the ankle cuffs. Sure, it restricts my movements, but I can still move. And muzzles and mittens are nothing new to me. But after Bob leaned against me like that, I briefly felt like an equal. For a moment, I really thought he was going to free me. Especially since the harsh restraints and the electroshock treatment had worn me down. I’m exhausted, I’d like a break. And Bob feels that, I know that. But he doesn’t give me a break, he doesn’t let me out of my situation. The feeling of freedom. I had almost forgotten it. In Bob’s moment of weakness, it suddenly flashed through my mind, but it was an illusion.

Continue reading It started with Mitts – Part 19-2 →