Category Archives: Story

Risk – Part 01

NOTE: This is a re-posting of a popular male bondage story by lthr_jock that originally made its debut in the Prison Library back in 2018. Starting right now with the re-posting of Part 1, and then continuing over the coming two weeks, an additional chapter will re-appear on this site every day or every other day.

Please note that at the end of each newly added part, until the new part appears, the “click for next part” at the bottom will bring up a “page not found” — so just be patient and check back often for the next part. You will never have to wait more than two days for the next part. There are 12 parts total.

In my view this is one of the hottest stories to have appeared on the Metalbond site. If this is brand new to your eyes, enjoy! If you read it before, now is your chance to enjoy it all over again!

Risk

By lthr_jock

Mike stood opposite the dingy block of flats, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another. His clothes helped him blend in to the area – a worn hoody with the hood up over a baseball cap, jeans pale at the knees and an old pair of boots. But he had been stood there for 10 minutes now and he had already seen several people stare at him curiously. He turned to go and went ten paces down the road away from the flats before stopping, turning and jogging across the road. Almost running, he headed up the stairs to the front door. Looking at the scratched and faded entry panel, he located 48 and before he could change his mind he punched the button.

It seemed like minutes before a distorted voice spoke.

“What?”

“It’s…it’s PC..I mean, it’s Mike.” The voice at the other end of the phone chuckled. “Come on in. Second floor.” With a click the door opened and Mike went into the stairwell. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of urine in the stairwell and headed up, taking the steps two at a time. When he reached the second floor he was barely breathing hard and he strode out on to the balcony. He ignored the rubbish piled up and the unidentifiable muck crunching under his boots as he walked along to Flat 48. The door was ajar and he pushed it open before stepping into the gloom and closed the door behind him.

Continue reading Risk – Part 01

Milking It (For All That It’s Worth)

By RotherhamMan

“That one there.”

Frank looked up to where Luis was nodding. “The one with the cap?”

“Nah, next to him, the one with the shorts on.”

Frank wasn’t subtle as he looked the guy up and down, taking in his clothes and how they fit him and speculating on what was beneath, “Oh, yeah, not too bad.”

“Nice lips,” muttered Luis. He could tell even from this distance that they were full and pouty lips that were rare for a guy. He was as open as his friend was in checking the guy out but more so when he palmed his erection. “I’d like them on my cock.”

Frank snorted as he finished a swig from the can of beer. “You’d like any lips on your cock.”

“Nah, I like a pretty face and lips. I have standards.”

The guy and his friends had noticed the two young men staring at them and after a few moments of shifting, clearly uncomfortable, moved on somewhere else. Luis rolled his eyes, couldn’t they take the compliment of being checked out? Probably straight, a waste of good lips in his opinion.

Continue reading Milking It (For All That It’s Worth)

My Fantasy Finally Came True

By submissivekink79

TRUE STORY!!!

I had the greatest experience I have ever had last night. I had a dream to come true. I was dominated by a forceful man, and I loved every minute of it.

I met him on the net, and he lived close to me, and we worked out a time for me to come play. Then I got up the nerve to ask him if he would dominate me. I had a particular fantasy, and I shared it with him. He agreed, and I was so excited I was shaking all day Thursday.

Well Friday night came. I drove to the address he gave me. Knocked on the door, and he answered, and invited me in and I was told to strip, and he will meet me in the bedroom on the left of the hallway.

I was to strip, and walk into the bedroom and stand before him, and hand him the key to the locks, and then lock the chain around my neck, and hand him the end of the chain. I did exactly that.

Continue reading My Fantasy Finally Came True

Three Slaves – Part 06

By Practicerestraint

Chris led 502 down the hall to another door.  They entered and 502 found himself in a large gym.

“This facility is for the slaves and for the staff.  Patrons visit here when they wish a gym scene with a slave.  Sarge overseas the fitness of the slaves and the staff.”

Chris pulled on the leash and led 502 to the right side of the room.  502 heard something behind him, but he felt a tug on the leash when he started to turn his head.

“Look around on this side and get an idea of how your workouts will be designed.”

As he scanned the equipment, 502 found that there were standard pieces of workout gear, but there were duplicates.  The duplicates had been modified in some fashion.  It took him a moment to register the differences.  His eyes settled on three stationary bikes.

Continue reading Three Slaves – Part 06

Forlorn Hope – Part 06: It Can Always Get Worse

By DR754

male bondage stories Hampton JailToday is Monday, August 9, 1967.

Awakening a little past dawn, I stood up – and nearly tripped over my leg irons.

It took me a moment to process where I was and what was happening.

Oh, right. It wasn’t a bad dream. I’m in jail, in chains, and in a shitload of trouble.

Stumbling to the toilet to take a piss, I pieced together shattered memories. Somewhere through the fog of my mind, more details of my early-morning arrest came into focus above the porcelain bowl.

There I was, locked in the cell as Pitbull read me my rights, then grimly informed me I matched the description of a man who robbed the Casey’s gas station in Sheffield that night. Did I want to explain this? Did I want to tell him anything about it?

Continue reading Forlorn Hope – Part 06: It Can Always Get Worse

Forlorn Hope – Part 05: Things Fall Apart

By DR754

Today is Monday, August 8, 1967.

I’m scribbling this entry on toilet paper in a cold, dark holding cell in the Franklin County Jail in Hampton, Iowa. You see, it turns out the “town museum with the bars on the windows” I was wondering about, was actually the county jail. Built in 1880, or so they told me.

And I, a fugitive from justice, was dumb enough to park in the jail driveway. Fucking brilliant.

You see, shortly after drifting off to sleep, I was rudely awakened by a burly man in a “Correctional Officer” ballcap, rapping his nightstick on my car window. I tried to shake him off, but the message was clear – open up or else.

Uh oh. This is a problem. And where the fuck did a correctional officer come from?

Continue reading Forlorn Hope – Part 05: Things Fall Apart

Forlorn Hope – Part 04: The Road Ends Here

By DR754

male bondage stories Hampton JailToday is Monday, August 8, 1967.

So far, so good. In fact, I had a brainstorm about halfway through South Dakota – what if I changed into my uniform? It’d break the description they had of me from court, and even though I wasn’t law enforcement, what cop is even going to pull over, much less question, a man in a federal ranger outfit?

Working around the handcuffs made things just a bit awkward, but I felt comfortable, almost confident again wearing my greens. I made it all the way into Minnesota without spotting a single trooper, then turned south down Highway 65 at Albert Lea. Corn, corn, corn, and more corn – but I didn’t care about corn, I cared about cops, and there were none to see.

As I entered the one-horse burg of Sheffield about midnight, I glanced at the gas gauge – damned near E. A couple lights were still on at a Casey’s gas station, but how to pay for it? My wallet had been tapped out back around Sioux Falls.

Continue reading Forlorn Hope – Part 04: The Road Ends Here

Forlorn Hope – Part 03: Men Plan, Gods Laugh

By DR754

Today is Sunday, August 7, 1967.

Blasting through empty stretches of Wyoming just after daybreak, I plotted my next move. This whole “escaped convict” thing is a little more complicated than I thought. It’s not like I regret my decision to run, but I can’t just keep running forever – my only hope is to find somewhere to run to.

Deep in my soul, a shred of conscience took the opportunity to be heard.

Come on now, you’re smarter than all this. Do you really think they won’t catch up with you? You could just pull into the nearest sheriff’s office and give yourself up, you know. End this madness now. You might still have a chance to cop a plea. Tell them you were scared, say you just snapped and went insane at the thought of going to prison. They can’t hang you for that, can they?

I briefly contemplated the thought. But my mind kept returning to what I knew awaited me at the Idaho State Penitentiary. Even if I escaped the gallows, what would I get for almost killing a cop? Another 10 to 30? Plus, what, five years for escape?

Continue reading Forlorn Hope – Part 03: Men Plan, Gods Laugh