Category Archives: Story

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 15

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By Bondagegimp

Visit

We’re lying on the large blanket in the garden. I feel the sun on my skin. Yes, on my skin! For once, I’m not wearing a rubber suit. My skin is allowed to breathe, at least partially. But my head is once again wrapped in the thickly padded leather hood. The earplugs are still in, as is the gag, and my eyes are still taped shut. But the rubber hood has also been removed. And I’m in the rubber straitjacket. But at least I’m not wearing a suit underneath.

My legs are spread quite wide, almost painfully wide, with a spreader bar. My head is in Bob’s lap. Jad sits or lies a little further down, near my legs. When Bob strokes my head, it creates a noise in the hood, a whooshing or scratching. This drowns out all other sounds. Only when Bob isn’t touching my head at all can I hear a little bit of what’s outside. Not much; I just hear muffled voices. Bob and Jad are talking. Sometimes they laugh. I can’t understand a word, but I get a certain vibe.

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 14

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By bondagegimp

The small cell

Bob leaves the room. I’m completely exhausted, only slowly catching my breath. I’d love to sit or lie down, but I’m still strapped into the frame: the collar holds my head, the plug is still drilling into my hole, my hands are tied behind the bar. The cords from my nipples and balls to the head harness are taut, and every movement of my head causes severe pain. But at least the treadmill is off.

I’d like to see what Bob is doing, but turning my head is completely out of the question. The pain is most bearable when I stand completely still, not moving at all. But I can still feel it, a throbbing pain in my nipples and hole. My balls are the easiest to release. My urethra burns a little from the semen that pushed past the catheter. My legs are shaking from the exertion; I have no choice but to lower myself onto the plug until I’m practically sitting on it, and it’s supporting some of my weight.

Once again, it was an incredible orgasm that Bob painfully forced out of me. When he held my head so tightly, I felt an incredible sense of security, yet at the same time it was incredibly oppressive. It really was like a nightmare, when you’re running away and can’t move. And then all his talking about how I’ll always stay with him, how he won’t let me go. Did he mean it? Was he going to leave me no choice? Was he just going to keep me? Was it a mistake to put myself in his hands again? Bob called it trauma therapy. But really, it was a punishment for my escape and a barely disguised threat. How does he manage to make me horny while doing that?

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Story

Iron Range – Part 01

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By Linc

Note: This story originally appeared on LockedMEN. It is being shared here with permission.

Jack stepped off the bus with a grunt, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The Minnesota air hit him like a slap — crisp and clean, with the faint scent of pine and chimney smoke.

He adjusted the bag, its weight a dull throb in his shoulder — eight pounds of nostalgia in the form of books, old electronics, and private indulgences. His laptop alone — stuffed with saved articles, annotated stories, and folder names he’d never say out loud — might as well have had a neon sign on it: Escapist with a wi-fi addiction.

Now there was no signal. Just gravel underfoot and a mile-long driveway between him and the farmhouse.

The structure rose in the distance like a memory of another century — broad porch, smoke curling from a chimney, silence thick enough to drown in. Jack squinted up at the steel roof catching the last of the sunset. The place looked more fortress than farm. He could already feel his city softness recoiling. But he needed this.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 04

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Four: The Long Night

The bunkhouse was built like a frontier barracks — thick timber beams, stone floor, heavy iron fixtures bolted to the walls and ceilings. There were no windows, only small vents near the roof and a single industrial fan turning lazily in the corner. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb hanging above the twin beds that filled half the space.

But Peter wasn’t given a bed.

He was mounted to the post.

A heavy wooden pillar rose from floor to ceiling at the room’s center, with rings set at shoulder, waist, and ankle height. The twins had stripped him bare again, save for his collar, and bound him standing with thick leather cuffs to each ring. His arms were pulled back and up, shoulders flexed, chest forward. His legs were spread wide and locked at the ankles. His brand still throbbed on his right hip, raw and blistered.

The collar chafed when he tried to shift. The restraints creaked.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 03

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Three: Bound and Branded

Peter sat frozen in the barber chair, the buzz of the clippers still ringing in his ears, his scalp raw and exposed. The twin with the deeper voice stood behind him, thick hands gripping his shoulders, while the other crouched in front of the steel collar resting on the table.

“Let’s get the rivet ready,” the shotgun twin said.

The collar was a brutal piece of craftsmanship—two-inch-wide forged iron, hinged on one side, lined inside with dull spikes meant for pressure, not blood. The shotgun twin slid it around Peter’s neck. The weight alone made Peter feel like he was being yoked like livestock.

Then came the hammer.

The deeper twin held a hot rivet with tongs, taken from a forge glowing orange behind a steel grate in the wall. He slotted it into the collar’s open eyelet. The shotgun twin stepped forward with a heavy iron hammer and a steel backing block, sliding it between Peter’s throat and the collar’s inside rim.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 02

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter Two: Induction

The compound wasn’t on any map. Surrounded by rusted fencing and tall mesquite trees, it sat like a secret in the heart of nowhere—half ranch, half fortress. The main building looked like a converted barn, only the reinforced doors and surveillance cameras hinted at its true purpose.

Peter stumbled up the steps between the twins, their huge hands still gripping his arms. The door creaked open, and the blast of cool, conditioned air hit his sweat-slicked skin like a slap. Inside was a stark, dimly lit room lined with metal lockers and pegboard walls hung with restraints, batons, coils of rope, and iron collars thick as wrists. A worn leather barber chair sat at the center beneath a spotlight, its chrome arms fitted with heavy straps.

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Story

Double Trouble – Part 01

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Chapter One: Trespass

The Texas sun was a cruel, unblinking eye in the sky, scorching the blacktop and everything around it. Peter wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and habitually ran his fingers through his long blond hair like a comb.  He cursed under his breath. His rental car—a cheap sedan that had looked dependable enough back in Austin—now sat silent and steaming on the side of the road, its hood up like a white flag of surrender. The nearest sign of civilization had been a lonely gas station fifty miles back. He hadn’t seen another car in hours.

With no cell service, no breeze, and no luck, Peter shouldered his backpack and headed east across the dusty plains, hoping to find a ranch, a house, a human being—anything. The ground was cracked and dry, dotted with stubborn tufts of grass and the occasional mesquite tree. He passed a wire fence that looked like it hadn’t been repaired since the Reagan administration. He didn’t notice the sun-bleached sign nailed to one of the posts:

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Story

Discipline Technologies Home Monitoring System

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By Scribe

My name is Jason. I live in a small town without a leather or kink community. However, I am strongly attracted to bdsm, spending many hours on Serious Male Bondage, Recon, Fet Life and other kinkster sites. I recently came across ads for Discipline Technologies. I really wanted to experience bondage and total control in one of their prisons. However, I am not retired or independently wealthy. I have to work a job with limited vacation benefits. That’s why I really got excited when I saw an ad for a home bondage and control system offered by Discipline Technologies. For a monthly fee, covering equipment and monitoring, they promised rigorous control and discipline in the discomfort of my own home. All I needed was a laptop, cell phone and high-speed internet connection. I would be allowed to go to work but otherwise would be constantly supervised. I would be subject to bondage, painful discipline, and chastity.

This sounded exactly what I wanted. I sent an application and received a contract. I gave them a credit card number for the deposit and first months rent and monitoring. I told DT that I could start immediately.

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