The Legend of the Path of Pain is one of many gay erotic bondage stories by the artist Mitchell. You can learn more about the artist at his blog, Mitchmen, and you will also want to join his Yahoo group to access the stories and illustrations.
Get tied up this Sunday and every Sunday
At the world-famous New York Bondage Club!
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Welcome to your jail cell
Shane is expertly tied and gets a face full of cum
Look how low this proud muscular stud has fallen! Naked Shane is expertly tied in a very compromising position with his arse up and the soles of his feet exposed. The most sensitive parts of his body are totally vulnerable to whatever perverted nasty treatment they want to inflict on this fucking hetero! The bottom of his feet receive a caning, making his entire body jolt with the shock of pain.
Shane’s big round arse cheeks are spread to show off his tight bumhole. Dave pops that sucker open using his power tool with a big dildo stuck on the end. Rammed hard with only spit to slick up his opening, Shane is primed for a royal fucking. This teasing man has got they so hard they’re lining up to screw him. He moans and cries, his face collapsing in a fit of misery and pain as he feels our cocks rammed deep inside him. We spray our semen all over his stupid mug, so he’s left with tears and cum dripping down his face.
To see more, go to BreederFuckers
Arrested and Jailed
By Mister-X/Spartan
Russ looked at the time and realized he hadn’t eaten dinner yet. He lived alone, but was at work and didn’t feel like going home to fix dinner. He decided to walk down to the fast food joint a couple of blocks away. They had a Tuesday night special going. As he was about halfway there, he heard a car screech to a halt behind him and a couple of guys rush out toward him. They looked like policemen. He looked around to see what they could be going to, but couldn’t see anything else where he was standing. By then they’d come up to him and stopped.
“Russell Smith?”
“Yes. Why?”
“We have a warrant for your arrest. Walk over to our car and put your hands up against it while you spread your legs and arms.”
Russ knew that he was going to be arrested and jailed at some time, but he didn’t know when it would be. As he was standing there he started thinking about what he had ahead of him in the next few days that he wouldn’t be here to take care of.
“Move it!” The guy started pushing Russ over to the car. Soon Russ had assumed the correct position and he was being patted down. Other passersby were looking over at the scene. Soon one of Russ’ wrists was brought behind his back and a handcuff was ratcheted on, the back of his hand facing where the other would soon be. This was followed by the other. The back door of the sedan was opened and Russ was ‘helped’ to sit inside. The door was closed and the two got into the front seat. Russ had been aroused by hearing the creaking leather of the officer, as well as being put into the cuffs.
Hands behind your back
If you don’t keep your hands behind your back, I am going to TIE your hands behind your back!
Noah gets tied on the cross
For hours. At Dream Boy Bondage. See below for a free preview video clip.
Noah — blond and built — hangs on the cross for several long hours of sheer agony.
Hours have passed. Noah hangs on the cross, cum hardened on his abs after he was jerked off while crucified, his young muscles screaming in pain. If you have ever dreamed of watching a stunningly perfect young man, a lean, blond athlete, suffer on the cross, hour after hour, Noah is your fantasy man, looking so good, glistening with sweat, near the point of passing out, but still managing to pull himself up and fill his lungs. This is real, long-term suffering endured by a strikingly beautiful stud.
See more at Dream Boy Bondage
The Convict – Part 17
By Joshua Ryan
“This is Officer Nolan,” he said to his cellphone. “Open A292.” I heard the bars slide back.
“Inside, convict.”
I opened my eyes. There was a gap in the bars. The cell door was open. It wasn’t very wide. It was just the gate to a cage. I could tell that I’d have to tilt my bedroll to get it through. I lifted one side, maneuvering it. I would have to be careful not to let anything drop . . .
Then I saw it. There was something long and thick lying on the lower bunk, something brown that was shaped like a man. There were letters and numbers stamped on its surface. It was a convict, lying face down in my cell. Wait a minute! Couldn’t the officer see that the place was already full?
I almost blurted that out. Then I remembered: there were two convicts stuffed in all those other cells. That bundle of clothes on the bunk was only one convict. I was the other one.
I stopped in the doorway. I was scared to wake up that thing on the metal shelf. Jesus, it was dark in there, especially after the spotlight I’d faced outside. I could see a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t turned on. The only light was the gray stuff leaking in from the walkway. That was enough for me to see that the whole cell wasn’t much larger than a medium-sized closet. It was a lot smaller than my bathroom at home. What used to be my home. Half the cell was bunks, one shelf above the other on the right side, against the wall. A lot of the rest was toilet — a metal toilet squatting against the back wall, a toilet without a seat, with something that looked like a little sink built into the top of it. The thing was gleaming at me in the faint light. Christ! I thought. They wash in the shitter. A wave of contempt ran through me. Probably one of them crapped while the other one washed his face in the crapper. They were like cats in a cage, with a little litterbox all their own. And now I was one of them.