Rigid stainless-steel locking “straps” keep this gag/mouthguard combo securely in your sub’s mouth for hours on end.
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Chapter 18: The Pit’s Grind
Steel Bites – Will Stands
By Restrained4U
The pit thrummed, red lights carving jagged shadows over concrete walls slick with the echo of Leo’s drenching – Marcus’s biometric lock a silent jailer.
Ryan slumped in his chair, leather vest creased tight, cap low over a cold smirk – leather pants scuffed, a faint bulge fading from breaking Leo in the shower, defiance simmering beneath a fresh beer’s buzz.
Marcus lounged, jeans taut, boots scuffed, wax crust flaking on his chest – picking at the last stubborn flecks with a finger as he sipped his beer slow, kingly ease in every pull, the red glow catching clean skin where the wax had been.
Jamie leaned forward, latex uniform slick, patrol boots thudding soft, exhaustion etched into a jagged grin – half-hard thrill lingering from soaking Leo, his edge raw and reckless.
Leo sprawled, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, cage dripping, a twisted grin cracking faint through defeat.
Ryan reached for the black velvet bag from Marcus’s toss – fingers steady, shaking it with a clink of cards. “My turn – let’s see what this pit’s got up its sleeve,” he growled, voice low and rough, a glint of relish in his eye, pulling a black card, white letters stark under the red glow.
At Bad Boy Bondage, Master Devon sends the winch up so that Brice Carson is entirely upside down. The sadistic master then proceeds to flog him! The captive can do nothing but writhe and scream as the strokes hit:
VIDEO at Bad Boy Bondage!
Getting collared is every sub’s fantasy. But getting turned out and collared by hot uncut dom AJ Alexander is Hans Berlin’s dream cum true.
See the VIDEO at Nasty Daddy
Chapter 17: The Pit’s Flood
Piss Soaks – Steel Holds
By Restrained4U
The pit pulsed, air heavy with sweat and leather, red lights flickering over concrete walls that loomed tighter since Marcus’s biometric lock sealed their fate.
Leo slumped in his chair, chaps rasping against the steel Carrera cage, cane welts itching under damp skin, eyes darting with a wild mix of frustration and jagged glee. Marcus lounged, jeans tight, boots scuffed, chest streaked with wax crust, shifting slightly, the beers from earlier pressing his bladder. Ryan sat stiff, vest creased, cap low, leather pants scuffed. Jamie leaned forward, latex uniform slick with sweat, patrol boots scuffing, exhaustion carving a bitter edge into his shadowed glare – fidgeting, full and ready to unload.
Leo took the black velvet bag from the table – Marcus’s toss still ringing – shaking it with a clink of cards sharp in the air. “My turn – guess I’ll see what this pit’s got for me,” he rasped, voice thick with a surfer’s drawl turned dark, a hint of humility softening the edge. He pulled a black card, white letters stark, reading slow, “Restrained to the shower wall, all others drench you through the grate until there’s no more to give.” He set it down – FLOOD’S DRENCH – jaw tightening as he stared at it, mind churning. Flood? Drench? Is this what I think – piss from these bastards? A twisted grin flickered, fading to a hard stare.
