Category Archives: Story

A Few Hours of Suffering

By keepmetiedup

They say “write what you know,” so here’s a short story that actually happened to me (with just a teeny bit of embellishment). This story contains descriptions of breath control, some CNC, and pain.

At breakfast this morning, I noticed my jaw still ached when I started to eat my toast.  Later, in the shower, the hot water made my nips hurt again.  When I looked in the mirror, I saw the black and blue marks across my back and ass.  All souvenirs of a good time suffering for a demanding top three days ago.

I visit my family every few months and I often try to schedule a play session before or after my time with my family.  Sometimes, it doesn’t work out.  On this trip, however, I succeeded in setting up a date with a trusted top I had visited many times before who is into pain, cbt, bondage, and – yes – breath controI.  I went over to his place.  We chatted about limits and preferences, and I told him I was interested in playing a bit more with breath control.  I reminded him that I hadn’t visited him for about two years, and he said that he would have to punish me for not coming to see him again sooner.  I smilingly agreed that he would indeed need to punish me.

He told me to strip down to my birthday suit, to go into the next room, and to wait for him with my hands behind my back and my head bowed.  Naturally I complied.  The second room was quite dark and without my glasses on, it was hard to see anything.  I waited.  Eventually, I heard him walk up behind me and he slipped a blindfold on.  Now I couldn’t see anything at all.  I heard him walk around in front of me.  He told me to present my arms to him.  He attached what felt like leather cuffs to each wrist and he fastened these together in front of me with what I’m assuming was a short length of rope.  He didn’t ignore my nips.  He clamped each one with something snug and secure.  I never did see what they were, but they did their job and hurt.  He guided me around the room to a different position.

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Consequences of Failure – Part 05

By BondageChallengeGames

(Ted’s Pov)

Fuck he was pathetic. All I had to do was wrap my hand around his dick, and his eyes would practically roll into the back of his head. Every little touch and he was moaning, thrusting, and whining.

I loved seeing him like this. What a rush to know that with one hand I could bring him to the brink of pleasure and then torturously take it all away.

To make sure my horny little plaything didn’t cum too soon, I interspersed my strokes with moments of lightly running a single finger along his shaft. I split up the focus on his cock by tickling the underside of his balls, pinching his nipples, and lightly placing my hand around his neck – not enough to choke him – just enough to remind him he couldn’t stop me if I did.

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Consequences of Failure – Part 04

By BondageChallengeGames

(Dustin’s POV)

I sat on the table, once again restrained. Once again waiting, half afraid and half turned-on, to see what Ted had planned for me.

He’d let me use the bathroom before tying me up. I assumed this was both a mercy and a warning for how long I was about to be bound.

He bound my wrists with thick leather wrist cuffs, then padlocked them together behind my back. He wrapped a belt around my chest, pinning my arms to my side. He used thick ropes to tie my legs at multiple points to the table. He locked my ankles in cuffs and locked those cuffs to the legs of the table.

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Consequences of Failure – Part 03

By BondageChallengeGames

(Ted’s POV)

He was so cute, thrashing around, laughing uncontrollably. I was smiling ear to ear as I tickled Dustin’s exposed feet and armpits.

Every few minutes I gave him a break to catch his breath. Just long enough for his body to reset. I kept my phone hidden from him, hopefully with every pause he thought his 38 minutes of punishment were over, only for me to lunge at him and begin the cycle of torment again.

Five minutes left. I sat up from the bed. I wanted to make this final stretch the worst yet. I blindfolded Dustin, which made the poor bitch whine and sadly beg me to stop. I loved when he begged, even if his words did come out jarbled by the sock gag.

I grabbed a toothbrush, some massage oil, and a feather. I rubbed the oil on his feet, armpits, and sides. He was shaking. Good. He should be afraid.

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Consequences of Failure – Part 02

By BondageChallengeGames

(Ted’s POV)

It was so fun watching Dustin struggle. I’d sat down with the full intention of playing video games to pass the time while my captive wiggled around on the floor, but watching my fucktoy pitifully try to get free ended up being way more entertaining.

He tried to reach his hands to the chest harness knot. I thought for a second he might reach it and undo himself, it was only a few inches away from his hands. Thankfully his lack of flexibility and the rope pinning his arms to the side meant that knot stayed frustratingly out of reach. Poor guy. I almost felt bad for him.

Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for Dustin, any sense of pity was overshadowed by how overwhelmingly hot it was having a man I could face-fuck and torture. A man that couldn’t do anything to stop me from using and hurting him however I liked.

Continue reading Consequences of Failure – Part 02

Consequences of Failure – Part 01

By BondageChallengeGames

I stood at attention, stripped down to my underwear, eagerly waiting for Ted to tie me up and reveal what this “challenge” was he’d been hinting at during dinner.

Ted wrapped a length of rope around my chest, tying a knot behind my back. He then ran the rope up over my shoulders on either side of my neck, circling back to the knot behind me to tie a simple rope chest harness. For good measure he ran one more length of rope around me, this time encircling my upper arms, pulling them close to my chest.

I was hard already, something Ted must have noticed. He took a quick break from tying me to reach down and grab my bulging dick through my briefs. I pushed my ass back against him. I reached my arm backwards as much as it could tethered as it was to the chest harness.

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My Pal Jock and the Night Before Christmas

By Hunter Perez

It was around four in the afternoon on Christmas Eve and I was in my apartment flicking the television remote control in search of something to watch. I planned to be alone for the holidays and, to be frank, I was enjoying my time to myself. Then my phone rang and I saw it was from Jock.

“Bingo, can you do me a great favor?” Jock said in a voice that sounded somewhat more tremulous than his normal tone. “Can you please drive me upstate this evening?”

“Can I drive you?” I asked, confused by the request. “You know I don’t have a car. What’s wrong with your car?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my car,” he responded. “I just got a call from the hospital – Dad was brought in with a heart attack. I was planning to drive up tomorrow morning to see him for Christmas, but I need to be there now. The news of his being in the hospital sort of shook me. With the way I feel I don’t feel comfortable doing that drive.”

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Caught in the Act

By Cutieboy90

“Hey man, I’m gonna shower. Don’t start the laundry yet.” Tony called down the hallway.

“Got it!” I hollered back.

I sat still, waiting for the sound of running water. Holding my breath. The seconds dragged by, as if time had just stopped. Even my heart seemed to slow…

Until at last the rush of water and the clang of the shower door closing signaled the start. This was the cue I’d been waiting for. Like a racer starting at the sound of the buzzer, I was off. Swiftly and silently like a panther stalking its prey, I was down the hall towards the laundry room in an instant. And there, piled in the hamper was Tony’s laundry. A whole week’s worth of worn gym socks and night shirts just waiting to be savored.

I knelt down, taking a particularly fresh-looking sock and bringing it to my nose.

“Mmmmm…” I could never help the initial moan, nor the swoons I felt when breathing Tony’s sweat and musk. There was a sort of spice to his scent, so masculine. I could detect hints of the trees from the park trail he liked to run through, the funk of his shoes, even a faint touch of the Irish Spring soap he used.

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