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My Fantasy Finally Came True

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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.

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Story

Three Slaves – Part 06

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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.

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Forlorn Hope – Part 06: It Can Always Get Worse

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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?

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Forlorn Hope – Part 05: Things Fall Apart

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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?

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