By SockgaggedJason

Note: This is a true story about one of my experiences and for adults only. It contains gay male bondage roleplay and sexual contact between men.

My buddy Dave recently bought a fixer-upper house in a bad neighborhood of Los Angeles. In his backyard, at the end of his carport, was a rickety old barn like garage. With my help, we converted it into a dungeon. Like me, Dave was primarily a dominant master (a “dom”) but we enjoyed switching up roles when we played. Having his own dungeon was a big feather in his BDSM cap. He outfitted it with his existing bondage gear and toys, and all kinds of crazy, kinky stuff. The most significant additions to his dungeon that made it special, however, required special installation. Since I was handy with heavy-duty tools, I volunteered to be his slave labor for the task. One was a bondage bed. He found an old iron bed at a thrift store that we reinforced with more metal material and then anchored it to the concrete flooring.

Next, we installed his piece de resistance, which were two sets of metal scaffolding towers. Through a craigslist ad, he found a music company “dumping” these gargantuan beasts to anyone who could take them away from their storage. They were the kind used for rock concerts to frame a stage and hold up lighting. It took us an entire day but we were able to install them inside the garage and deadbolt them into the concrete flooring securely. Miraculously the aluminum towers fitted to the inch inside, just barely touching the roofing of the garage. We joked that it also made the shabby structure more secure and guaranteed the old roof wouldn’t fall on our heads.

Needless to say, I sweated my ass off to get the place ready.

Instead of paying me, he promised me better compensation. I would be the first guy to break in his new playroom for a roleplay session. We set a date, that next Friday.

That Friday, over a couple of beers, we chatted about what we would do. We definitely wanted to put those scaffoldings to the test and restrain one of us between them. Since he wanted to stay free to check out his equipment, and possibly do a little work around his house, he wanted me to be the one tied up. Though I usually found myself in the dominant position, this made sense and I enjoyed being a “sub” when the dude knows what they’re doing.

I had left in his dungeon several bins of my sports gear I collected. They contained full football uniforms, wrestling singlets, neoprene pads, and such. I should note, in addition to bondage, Dave and I were both really in to sports gear. Though we were part of the recon.com fetish world, we originally had met several years back on gearfetish.com.

Since I brought my video camera (on a tripod) for the big night, I wanted to dress up for it. I suited up in my favorite football uniform. I stripped down butt naked then slid on a jock-strap with a pouch containing a banana cup. Then I stepped in my stretchy, white football pants complete with thigh and kneepads inserted and laced the pants around my waist. I put on a blue lycra compression shirt. Then I donned a pair of shoulder pads with my Blue Devils white football jersey over it. Often I did these kind of bondage sessions in my underwear – I wasn’t shy – but it felt really exciting to wear all that gear and be been on camera in it.

I stood in between one a pair of scaffoldings, ready to be tied up, standing spread eagle.

Instead of rope, Dave decided to use some newly bought chains for my restraints. After I helped him slip leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles, we pad locked the chains to their buckles.

Dave went to work attaching the chains to the scaffolding. Starting with my arms, I stretched them out, not above my head but away from my torso. This would be more comfortable for longer-term bondage he said. Uh oh! He connected the wrist chains to the furthest limbs of the scaffolding pulling my hands adequately away from my body. Since I couldn’t reach the connecting points, locks weren’t necessary so he attached them with thick carabiners.

He told me to spread my legs as much as possible. Then he took the chains connected to my ankles and linked them with more carabiners to the opposing aluminum scaffolding.

While he did all this, a lot of metal on metal clanking was going on. I wondered if the garage aka dungeon had walls thick enough to prevent his next-door neighbors from hearing all the commotion.

Dave finished up some last-minute tightening here and there and, voila, I was standing spread eagle between his two aluminum towers. Unlike rope, the chains had no “give” to them. I was tightly secured.

Dave positioned the camera on the tripod in front of me and started to record what we were doing. I had already given him some direction on what to capture for the video so he knew what to do. He grumbled a bit about it, Dave didn’t like to fuss with video cameras like I did, but he owed me the favor for all the hard work I put in to the dungeon and he ultimately liked the thought of a clip commemorating the moment.

Now it was time to gag me.

Dave and I shared the same taste in gags. We liked them unable to be removed by the sub and we liked them to involve smells.

He gave me a last few sips of beer from my bottle. We had talked about using my dirty sock in my mouth and I brought one of my favorite smelly socks I never washed. I loved the smell of my own sweaty socks. Dave decided, though, to veto that and instead went with one of his own. He showed me a plastic baggy that contained a pair of really dirty looking ankle socks. He pulled them out and held it to my nose for approval. They were still kept moist from his sweat. Sure enough, they stank. No shit, boy did they stink! Dave had a unique smell to his feet that wasn’t entirely pleasant but that was part of the torment that I ultimately enjoyed so I nodded. He shoved both pair in to my mouth and instructed me to keep them there. Then he took duct tape and wrapped the lower half of my face with layer upon layer. Mmmphhh!

Next, he blindfolded me.

The blindfold, a long dark soccer sock from my personal collection of gear, was tied around my eyes. It served two purposes. One, it helped disguise my face for the video we were making. Two, it was a favorite addition to helping me fantasize about where I was and what was happening to me.

Once I was bound, gagged, and blindfolded, I allowed myself to “mind trip” as I tested the restraints, feeling truly helpless. It was warm in the dungeon and I was starting to sweat in my football gear. Since it was a uniform I’d worn often, the previous baked in sweat and odor was activating, emitting a nice scent.

My dick was already hard and I was pre-cumming. My cock was popping out of my jockstrap and protective cup. Without warning, though, Dave tapped his hand on my crotch.

Mmpphhhhh! Asshole! He laughed and told me it was too soon to be enjoying myself.

Then he told me that he was moving the camera around to get coverage of me. I put on a show and started to struggle as much as I could and groaned through my gag. I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was getting various angles of me too. Once he was finished with the shots, he told me he would keep it on record in a wide shot.

He got up in my face, reached under my compression shirt, then underneath the shoulder pads and played with my nipples. He pinched them lightly. Mmmmphh! It irritated me but also turned me on. While he did that, he debated out loud about abandoning me like that or sticking around to torture me.

Dave decided to leave me alone in my helpless condition.

He said he had some work to do around the house and that I should have a good time by myself, while the video camera shot me. The prospect of being abandoned like that might be a little dangerous but it was also a little exciting. I had a safe word and signal that I could have used in that moment to object, but I didn’t. Dave did, however, fist make sure I could adequately breathe through my nostrils.

I heard the sound of his door opening, closing, and then silence. He had gone.

I twisted, yanked, and squirmed around in my helpless standing spread eagle position. I couldn’t get free. I definitely tried. The only thing it accomplished was the loud sound of metal chain links clashing with the aluminum scaffolding.

He did a first-class job with the gag too. Dave used some quality duct tape and had wrapped it not just around my face but under my chin for support. I could taste the faint odor of his used, smelly socks in my mouth. They tasted like stale corn, oddly enough.

I struggled in my bondage for a good thirty minutes alone in there, maintaining a hard-on the whole time. It felt pretty great.

When I heard Dave return, he mocked me for how sweaty a captive I was. True enough, I was perspiring like a mother fucker.

I was horny and my cock wanted attention. As I heard him approach, though, I tensed up expecting to be punched or slapped down there again.

“Let’s see what’s going on in here,” he said.

Instead of hitting me, he unlaced my football pants and opened them up. It released a warm, humid rush of pungent air from my crotch. “Nice!” he reacted. He pushed the stretchy football pants down past my hips until the waistband, then the pouch, of my jockstrap, was exposed. My penis was sticking out the side, erect as a steel rod.

He stroked my dick slowly which made me moan and shudder. He laughed then once again slapped my crotch, this time hitting me square in my nuts. Mmmphhhh!!! Fuck that hurt, but he knew I liked being tested so it was a game I endured.

He placed something in his hands that he started to affix to the shaft of my penis. It was a rubbery, tubular piece that enveloped my dick. Then he flicked on a switch and it started to vibrate my cock. I immediately realized it was one of his favorite toys. It was a massage wand vibrator!

“Mmmmmmmmhhhhh!” I moaned as I began receiving mechanical masturbation from the device. I leaned back, falling in to the grips of the chains, helplessly restrained. My hands opened wide and my toes curled down.

Right as I was getting close to cumming, he suddenly stopped and left me to wiggle around, frustrated. Denied!

He edged me like that a couple more times, always stopping short, then pulled my pants back up, leaving my raging boner trying to burst out of the stretchy fabric of my jock strap and football pants. I was pre-cumming like crazy.

Dave stood up on something, leaned in to me, and shoved his armpits in my face. He made me take a few whiffs of the sharp odor. He liked to skip showers too and didn’t wear deodorant.

Then he left me alone once more and continued with the late-night construction on his house while I whimpered and squirmed with sexual frustration. Blindfolded, I couldn’t see a thing and I wondered if he was secretly watching me or was he really leaving me every time. I had no way of knowing.

The lycra fabric of my gear was sticking to my skin from all the sweat coming from my pores.

Another thirty minutes or so went by while I writhed and jerked.

Dave returned and did the same thing all over again with the massage wand, edging me to near climax then denying me. He even slapped my balls.

This cruel pattern was repeated a couple of more times in to the night.

Eventually, I was sweating so much that I could have slipped my wrists out of the leather restraints. Did I do that, though? Nope. I remained a loyal captive.

When he returned, a fourth or fifth time, I’m not sure which, he opted out of the wand and used his hand. After having yanked my sweaty football pants and jock down to my thighs, he started to jack me off.

“I could edge you all night like this but you’ve been a pretty good boy,” he said. “Maybe you deserve to release. Do you?”

“Mmmmh hhhmmm!” I nodded, stiffened up as he stroked my penis, feeling all the wonderful sensations.

Once again, I got close.

“You ready to cum, young man?” he laughed.

I nodded intently and grunted through my gag. “Mmmphhhhhhh!”

“I’m pretty impressed with your work. The scaffoldings aren’t budging one bit. You really screwed yourself, ha hah,” he teased.

“Mmmmhhhh!” I nodded, continuing to feel the wonder of being jacked off.

“Ok…. Here we go!” he said, edging me closer to climax.

Right as I was on the verge of shooting everywhere, the damn bastard once again stopped short and let go of my dick.

“Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!” I begged, jittering my whole spread out body against the chains.

“Oh…. You know you love this edge torture!” he laughed.

After a moment, he returned again to stroking me, feeling out my body for when I would again be close to coming. He wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction.

But this time I was able to trick him. With all my mite, I didn’t make a gesture that I was close and kept stoic. I finally shot my load and sprayed everywhere.

“Oh damn!” he reacted, probably getting hit with my semen.

“Uhhhmmmmmm!” I moaned with relief, relaxing my whole body and slumping over in to the leather restraints.

Dave left me like that for a few minutes while he left and ultimately returned. I could see out of a sliver of my blindfold that he was toweling himself off.

Eventually he took me down from the restraints. The moment my hands were freed, I realized how numb my wrists were. When the ankles were released, I realized how stretched out my legs had been. I was definitely going to be sore in the morning.

After we pulled off my tape gag, I stripped butt naked out of my football gear. I still had an erection. Now my body was chilled by the air. I slid on my pair of boxer briefs underwear. I looked at my pile of football gear and how drenched it was.

We decided that we would clean up the dungeon mess in the morning. It was pretty late. Dave let me stay over that night. Instead of having sex, we cuddled in his bed together, keeping with our smelly socks in bed between us.

THE END

Metal would like to thank SockgaggedJason for sharing this story! Please leave a message in the comments section below!