Check out these pictures, courtesy of Mark over at Serious Male Bondage. Mark writes, “This is a 4mm thick rubber straitjacket from BlackStore.com in Switzerland. There will be upcoming video on Serious Male Bondage.”
VIDEO available at Serious Male Bondage
Title of this video: Breathless In Chastity
Check out these leather-lined restraints in purple, available from Sinvention — a company in Canada that has been creating fine leather items for the kink community since the 1990s:
See this item and much more at Sinvention
By DR754
Today 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.
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
Here are more shots of Bind over at Serious Male Bondage:
See the VIDEO at Serious Male Bondage
Title of this update: NoEscapeSlave and Bind Human Lock
Also check out Bind’s own site, Men In Chains
At Dream Boy Bondage, Jesse can’t believe what is happening to him. Hanging by his wrists and ankles, strapped to a cross, not even a foot off the ground, is tormenting his body in ways he didn’t think possible. Every muscle in his body is fatigued and straining. He must lift himself up to breathe, but his muscles give out and he collapses, forced to hang from his wrists, over and over. The loincloth around his hips droops so low that his pubes and top inch of his cock are visible. The man torturing him pulls up his loincloth – presumably to hide his cock, so that what is about to happen to him can be televised – then, he whips his chest and stomach. Still, after a few lashes, the loincloth is ripped off, exposing his beautiful cock, and the whipping resumes. His tormentor strokes his straining muscles, appreciating the warmth of his pain, then leaves him to suffer, naked and alone, for hours.
See the video at Dream Boy Bondage
Title of this video:
JESSE STONE – Political Prisoner – Chapter 5
By DR754
Today is Saturday, August 6, 1967.
Long story short, I made it out of town ahead of the State Police roadblocks and over the mountains into Montana. I kept going east, trying to put as many miles between myself and Moscow as I could. In Deer Lodge, I passed the towering stone walls of the Montana State Prison – is this what my literature prof would call foreshadowing?
I was getting a bit sleepy, but getting a hotel seemed far too risky – visions of awakening to the barrels of police revolvers danced in my head. Turning off the highway somewhere south of Butte, I drove up a logging road deep into the mountains, then stopped in a disused log transfer site. Flipping on the radio, my heart skipped a beat as a news bulletin crashed through the AM static.
Daring escape from Idaho courtroom – convict on the run – deputy fights for his life.
