Stud Squaw – Part 2

By Alex Ironrod

“God in heaven, Billy, what have I done to us,” the Lieutenant choked out. “I can feel things crawling all over me, and I’m erecting again.”

“Try to relax, Tom, “ came the grunting reply. “You need to keep your courage up as well as your cock. We have to bear it.”

He got only a sigh of despair and a groan of anguish from the head next to him, as Tom tried to move his body. Bright shuddered in turn; his back felt as though knives were cutting him, as the flies drank his slobber and the drying piss.

The soldiers lost track of time in the hot sun; men and women passed them by; some spat at them, one or two pushed them onto the thorns; the flying insects bit and crawled on their naked bodies. At last the group of Apaches returned, unpegged their ankles, untied their arms and pulled them off the cactus. Spaulding shouted in pain; the sergeant bit hard on the rawhide, as they were raised upright and allowed to stumble back to the chief’s tepee.

There they collapsed, shuddering, on the floor, with dirty fly-speckled chests and matted hair, and bleeding backs and butts. For a few moments, neither spoke as they tried to recover. Bright managed to undo the rawhide tightening in his mouth.

Continue reading Stud Squaw – Part 2

Stud Squaw – Part 1

By Alex Ironrod

This is a tale of an imaginary traditional Old West in the 1870s-1880s, with modern BDSM elements. The Native Americans are fierce and brave and so are their opponents in the US Cavalry. The setting could be Southern Arizona. This story, and its longer novel sequel, are dedicated to the memory of the late film director John Ford, whose Westerns inspired them.

His arms were tired; he’d been pulled along at the end of a rope behind the pinto horse for several hours, wrists bound with rawhide – chafing despite his heavy yellow deerskin gauntlet gloves. And his feet hurt. He cursed himself for wearing his good cavalry boots and spurs- they made him look great in the saddle, but pinched after an hour or so of stumbling along rocky trails. And his head ached from the bullet graze, which had got him into this mess.

He looked over his left shoulder at his companion. Sergeant Bright seemed to be faring better than his lieutenant was, although he too was bound behind another Apache horse. But Bright was rugged after years in the cavalry, and, at 6’ 2” topped Tom Spaulding by a good three inches. There was a sudden commotion, as the sergeant tripped over a rock on the narrow path and was being dragged along, scraping chest and legs over the uneven ground.. The leader of the Indian band of raiders snapped out an order and Bright was able to scramble to his feet, blood seeping down his arm again.

Continue reading Stud Squaw – Part 1

Crushed nuts

Ler’s file these devices under “severe testicle torture” … Check out these CBT devices available from Mr S:

01_CB123-3a_press

Acrylic Ball Press: Turn the wingnuts tighter and tighter and watch his balls flatten and listen to him beg and plead for mercy!

 

CB122-9_crusher

Acrylic Ball Crusher: Once you lock this nut-trap on, you’ll begin to see that look in his eyes as you gently turn the dials and the nuts get even redder … just one more turn?

 

E046-9_ElectricalCrusher

Captivator Electrical Ball Crusher: Two times the surface contact to ensure no area on his balls gets away from you. Lock him in and let it rip! This is a 2-channel electrical device, with 4 inputs for the wires coming from your power box.

You can find more like this at Mr S

Shredded – Part 02

By Adam Wesco

male bdsm sneakersWhen my eyes fluttered open, I was back at home in bed and alone in just a pair of might tight Under Armour boxer briefs. Did I just dream everything that happened at the new gym? Probably so. I was incredibly horny after my workout and I probably just lost sense of things and came home and fell asleep horny as hell. I rolled over and looked at my phone and saw a message from Duncan. “Hey, Adam. It’s Duncan, your trainer at Shredded. Don’t forget we have training today at 10am!”

Crap – it was already quarter after 9 and it was a good 15-minute drive to the gym. I hopped out of bed and threw on the same gym clothes I’d worn the day before. Something about the smell of them was really turning me on this morning. As I bent over to pull my balled-up socks out of my Adidas wrestling shoes, without any thought I sniffed one and shoved it into my mouth. Fuck – sucking on my own sweaty socks was turning me on. But I’ve got no time to pleasure myself. I didn’t want to be late.

I quickly threw my now slightly damp socks on and laced up my yellow Magic Man wrestling shoes. After quickly brushing my teeth and primping for a few to make sure my hair looked nice, I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of “Muscle Milk” that I’d picked up at the gym the day before. I didn’t remember buying it but did remember leaving with it. Must’ve been another freebie included with the membership. The whole last day had been foggy.

Continue reading Shredded – Part 02