At Roped Studs. See below for a free video preview clip.
Logan moans and gasps as a massive, veined dildo fucks his tight ass rhythmically. The hot man is roped to the four corners of the bed, his body covered with sexy lash marks. “Oh yeah!” he moans as rope man J.J. smacks his ass while fucking him. Logan is hurting – but oh so good. Then J.J.’s dildo-fucking gets rapid-fire – and he whips the captive while fucking him.
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By Joshua Ryan
“OK,” the officer said, when he got me out in the hallway again. “Your looks are improving, convict. I like that new ankle bracelet. I think you look real cute in it. And you’re gonna look even cuter after your next stop. I’m tired of watchin that little dick of yours floppin around on the outside. But I guess you faggots don’t mind hangin out — do you, boy?”
“Boss! No Boss!”
“Well, if I didn’t have no more than what you got, I’d never wanta bounce that thing. I’d keep it packed away. Look at it.”
He put his hand out and grabbed my dick, like you grab a piece of junk that you plan to throw away. He yanked on it, and I lurched in his direction. “You call that a dick, boy?” He opened his hand. My dick was lying there, open to inspection. He was right. It looked like nothing compared to his thick hard hand, or the long gray sleeve, full of muscle, that connected the hand to his big, buffed shoulders.
I could smell the Krew Comb on his haircut. I could smell the cigar he’d been smoking. A voice inside me yelled, “Fuck, man! There’s a hillbilly grabbin your dick! There’s a fuckin prison guard grabbin your fuckin dick!” But that voice was a long way away. My dick was starting to grow. It was filling and hardening, and he was starting to stroke it and crank it, like I was his cow and it was time to milk me. The more he stroked, the more it hardened and swelled and thrust in his fingers. I didn’t want that to happen. But there was nothing I could do. It was his tool now. I wasn’t in control of it anymore. Maybe I never had been. My dick didn’t care whose hand it was in; it might as well have been my own hand milking it — except that this hand was attached to a man, not to a “boy” like me. It was sliding in his hand like a piece of well-oiled machinery, like a piston that’s found the right groove . . It was true, then . . . he was the man, and I was the boy . . . he was the guard, and I was the convict . . . My dick was throbbing and jerking, struggling for release . . . Just when it was about to lunge free. . . .
By Pisslurper
After two days, I had pretty much settled into jail routine. The mornings were nice; I’d wake up to the soft light at dawn, and drowsily drift in and out sleep with the sounds of the town waking up in the distance. The light would gradually bring the details of the cell into focus — the giant rivets, the steel walls, the steel L-brackets welded to the side walls, the glimpse of the cellblock through the steel bars of my cell doors. I’d become more aware of the smells of steel and concrete, and eventually I’d get up and piss a stream into the bucket.
When I was in the end cell, the jailor had to be in the cellblock to see into the cell through the bars of the cell door, and I could hear when he was entering the cellblock because unlocking the cellblock door made a loud racket. In the middle cell, the jailor could more or less sneak up from the jail portion behind the shower and look into my cell through the bars in the back wall of the cell. I wasn’t certain if I liked being more exposed or more secluded.
Since there wasn’t a table in the middle cell, and now I was supposedly a “medium security” risk, the jailor fed me my meals at the table in the cellblock area. He unlocked the padlock on the door of cell, exited the cellblock, slammed shut the cellblock door, padlocked the two huge sliding bolts on the cellblock door, then unlocked the sliding bar locking mechanism that locked and unlocked all three cell doors simultaneously. Then he told me that I could push open my cell door and enter the secure cellblock area. He pushed my cereal and banana through the handcuff slot, and I sat at the small table to eat my breakfast. I would’ve given my left nut for a cup of strong black coffee, but I knew better than to ask.
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By lthr_jock
As Clark walked out of the house, Vickers marvelled at the sight of the prison guard wearing head to toe rubber. He knew that the additives he had put in the man’s drink would increase his arousal, but he never anticipated that they would make him so relaxed and open-minded. Talking to Clark it was clearly the same man, just a man with his inhibitions lowered. Vickers watched Clark drive away, then was back onto his computer to review the film he now had of Clark putting on the rubber. He pulled out his cock and stroked it at the sight of the tall, muscled man covering up with the gleaming black rubber. He grinned with pleasure and added the film to his private collection of films of Clark that he had taken since Clark had first come over to collect the Scavenger’s Daughter. Vickers had been very careful with those files – they had been shared with a very few select friends, each time with dire warnings not to share them with anyone else.
***
Clark drove home, enjoying the way the rubber moved and stretched with every movement of his body. He was also aware of the sounds that it made as he moved and the strong smell of the rubber – a smell which got stronger as his body heated the rubber up. It was a warm day and although the sun was low on the horizon, it was still enough to make him sweat. He could feel the trickles of it down his body under the rubber and even that served to arouse him. He reached down with his left hand and stroked the bulge of his cock, which was still rock hard under the rubber. Clark loved the feel of the pressure through the rubber without the direct contact and he could feel pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
Clark pulled up short – his reverie had almost made him drive through a red light. He carried on stroking his cock with one hand until a shout disturbed him. He looked to the right and saw the familiar shape of a pickup truck. Leaning out of the window was the same guy that had seen him driving around in slave chains a few weeks before.
Check out these pictures of handcuffs and leg cuffs from Chris Mitchell – The Sneaker Boy
See more from this guy at his site, sneakerbitch.net
Check out these vintage pictures from “Shock Collar Thugs” at Brutal Tops:
His arse bright red from a recent thrashing, painpig is dragged in to be fucked hard by Master Darren. The young builder sticks his rampant tool up the bottom’s sore arse and begins happily thrusting away. The squealing sod can barely speak as Darren plows deep and fast into his arse. But Dave makes him describe his humiliation by giving him nasty slaps to the head.
Dave whips out his cock and demands to be serviced by the bottom’s slobbering mouth. This BJ rapidly turns into a throat fuck. Darren goes first, depositing tasty gobs of fresh sperm into the wretched bottom’s mouth. Ordered to swallow Darren’s mess, his mouth then receives another present, this time from the soldier Dave.
To see more, visit Brutal Tops
Dave and Darren are up for fun today. They have a pain pig to play with and two arses that need a good licking. But pain pig needs to earn that reward. The object of the exercise is total pain, because the two sadists know they’ll get a better rimming from their bottom that way.
He’s bound to the weight bench and they torment his cock and balls with clothespins to make it a real porcupine before turning their attention to his nipples and applying bulldog clips to them.
Darren’s hairy nuts need a clean next, and both delicious globes are pressed into the bottom’s mouth. Darren makes a nice seat out of the pain pig’s mouth, wriggling his young builder’s bare ass onto his mouth while Dave flogs the poor bugger.
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