Category Archives: Story

Story

Retail Slavery – Part 03

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By Rubrpig

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

Michael stood quietly as the Police Sgt. Now in civilian clothing entered the store.  He turned and locked the door again.  The slave stood quietly his upper torso now bare of all the gear except for the padlocked chain collar it wore.  It stood quietly and put its hand behind its back and bowed its head.  The Sgt. Walked over to Michael and told Michael that he had seen Michael notice that the Sgt had become aroused earlier.  Michael smiled and told the Sgt. That it was a common reaction in many men especially those that were attracted to leather, dominance and submission.  The Sgt. turned red and nodded.

Michael asked the Sgt. what his name was, and the Sgt. Told him that his name was Marco.  Michael stuck out his hand and told Marco that it was good to meet him.  He then asked if he was attracted to the idea of controlling the slave or being a slave which just made Marco blush all the more.  Marco replied that it was the thought of being locked into all the heavy gear that the slave had been wearing which had aroused him.  Michael smiled and looked at Marco and asked if he wanted to wear the gear to which Marco nodded and looked at Michal and agreed.  Michael told him that the gear would go on and it would be locked and Marco nodded and said that is what he hoped.

Continue reading Retail Slavery – Part 03 →

Story

It started with Mitts –Part 13

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By bondagegimp

Trauma therapy

Wall. In front of me, all I can see is the wall. I’m standing on my tiptoes. The muzzle I’m wearing has this ring right in front of my mouth, and Bob has attached it to a hook on the wall so high that I have to stand on tiptoes and look diagonally upwards. Bob has left me here while he prepares something. I can’t see what, I can’t see him. I only see the wall. My head is tied to the wall with a thick lock. But I can hear him working.

Steel bars are banging together, a screwdriver is screwing, things are being pushed back and forth on the floor. I have no idea what he’s up to. I’m nervous, sweating. The sweat is collecting in the booties of the rubber suit. It’s the same one as yesterday on our walk. The one with the rubber sheath over the hole. Bob fucked it into me again with great pleasure. I’m also wearing my sneakers again. And the gag from yesterday, the mouth over it is taped up again with the foil plaster, on top of which is the rubber mask from the suit.

Bob wants to re-create yesterday. We were just lying in the evening sun. My shoulders ached from the tight restraints, the collar cutting into my neck. But I enjoyed the moment with Bob, who, lost in thought, played with my nipples while I snuggled into his muscles.

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Story

The Shackles of Curiosity – Part 01

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

Peter had always been a curious man. Not just about the world — though he devoured books on history, science, and myth — but about the more obscure corners of the human experience. Of all his peculiar interests, one obsession stood out above the rest: bondage. Specifically, the cold, metallic click of handcuffs locking into place. There was something elegant in the restraint, a mechanical intimacy he couldn’t quite explain.

When he heard that The Amazing Argento, a legendary escape artist rumored to have broken free from the most impossible traps, was performing in his city, Peter bought front-row seats without hesitation.

The show was mesmerizing. Argento, draped in sleek black, challenged padlocks, chains, straitjackets, and submerged cages — each escape more impossible than the last. But what held Peter’s gaze was not just the spectacle, but the tools. The gleam of cuffs, the clink of chain, the artistry in control.

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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.

Continue reading It started with Mitts –Part 10 →