Think you have privacy? Think again. Every move you make is being recorded, the watchful eyes of a stranger fixated on every inch of your body. You’re under Surveillance by TitanMen exclusives Dario Beck, Trenton Ducati, Jesse Jackman and Hunter Marx, who lead a warehouse full of horny studs anxious to exploit you. After working up a sweat, stroking laborer Hunter Marx is joined by admirer Jesse Jackman — who offers up his muscle ass after the two exchange sucks. Electrician Harley Everett finds two warm sockets in the form of daddy Nate Pierce, the two tattooed studs working up a grunt-filled sweat. In the loading dock, beefy Spencer Reed exchanges sucks with chiseled Trenton Ducati — as security guard Dario Beck watches on camera, soon exchanging sucks with blond Christopher Daniels. The four soon join forces, a gang-bang leaving Dario coated in cum.
Many thanks for all the comments from kinky readers.
I am still open to meet men of all ages and sizes for prison sessions.
So I was told to make sure I was available Wednesday from 10 am to 8 pm.
I have had very little conversation with this man — more by e mail than in person. He is imposing, a large, mature top — probably ex-military, and in some kind of parole or prison occupation. He is also very up to date in technology and lets technology do much of his work.
I still have the device locked on my ankle, so he knows every move I make. I still try to carry on a normal life-work, which is permitted, and then come directly home unless I have a need to shop, do laundry etc., by request, most of which is granted. He is keeping a tally of infractions, and as he stated punishment sessions will be this week.
So as I leave work I get a message on my cell phone: “Changes of plans – make yourself available Wednesday, Thursday and Friday – NO EXCUSES! Check your calendar for more information.”
Ding! “The Captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. Please feel free to move about the cabin.”
All around I could hear the clicking sound of the other passengers releasing their seatbelts and some reaching up to collect items from the overhead bins or simply stretching.
“Heheh…” Scott chuckled darkly as he patted my thigh. “Not that you need to stretch after only 15 minutes, but you won’t get to. No chance, no choice.”
My poor dick only throbbed harder, tightly confined in my jockstrap and tight jeans as Scott’s deep whispers flowed into my brain, his words as smooth and sinful as melted dark chocolate.
He was right, of course. I had no freedom, strapped and muzzled as I was. I looked down at the straps the Air Marshall had restrained me with. Thick, wide, lightly padded nylon webbing circled my torso pinning my arms around me like a straightjacket. Another strap ran down the front to connect the body straps to the ankle straps, which kept my legs bent and in a seated position even if there hadn’t been a seat.
A buddy of mine (Rob) got sentenced to one year of house arrest. I tried to talk him into letting me go to the PO (Parole Officer) as him and get the ankle monitor locked on me instead of him. He thought it was hilarious, and I begged him to let me do it.
Rob had a cheap ankle monitor, in my opinion. It had a base station with a small battery and needed to be hooked up to a phone line and power cord. It created a zone around his house, and if he left the zone it would send an alert. Once he left the zone it didn’t know anything about his location. And the zone was small enough when he mowed the yard he had to call the PO and tell him he was starting to mow and call back when he finished. Otherwise he would show up as leaving his home and he would get violated (parole violation), which could send him back to jail.
Rob had rules to his house arrest. He had to schedule any time away from home in advance. And the requests had to be approved. He was given 3 hours on Saturdays to go shopping. Since his didn’t track locations once he left home, he could go anywhere. But he had to be home by 3 p.m. Have a special family event planned like a birthday? He might get approved to go for an hour or two, including travel time! Or the request might be denied, the PO didn’t need to give reasons for denying a request.
This is a true account of a chance meeting I had a few years back in NYC.
I was on a business trip to New York, and on a morning when I had no commitments I’d been down to Battery Park and was travelling back uptown by bus. It was around lunchtime and the bus was already crowded – people were standing but I was OK and had one of those side-facing seats toward the front of the bus.
I found myself staring at the back-side of a guy who was strap-hanging the same as all the other standing passengers but there was something different about this guy – showing through a back pocket of his jeans I could clearly see the outline of a pair of handcuffs!
My heart was racing, the adrenaline pumping. Was this guy a cop? But he wasn’t in uniform. Was he a collector of cuffs like myself? Or was there some other reason why he was carrying cuffs? I had no way of knowing.
But suddenly I did have a possible way of knowing. Unexpectedly the bus lurched and the standing passengers were jolted to such an extent that “my” guy stepped backward – right onto my foot. He half turned, looked down at me and muttered an apology. I assured him that I was perfectly OK and he went back to his strap-hanging – and I went back to staring at his cuffs. I was fantasising about trying to strike up some sort of conversation with the guy; a perfect opportunity had presented itself when he stepped on my foot, but I’d bottled out and hadn’t had the guts to get into conversation