Tag Archives: bets and dares

Story

The Lock-In – Part 04

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By Cuffed Locked

It must have been late Sunday night or maybe it was Monday morning already. I could not be sure because I had no clock, nothing to track time. I had been chained by my neck to a solid ring bolted to the floor of my hot neighbor Caleb’s basement since Thursday night after work, and I was starting to get scared because I definitely had to be at work again Tuesday morning! I was trying to free myself from his “escape room,” which, thanks to his friend Derek and a pair of police handcuffs, was really turning into more of a bondage torture room.

Yes I was bound, securely, and I as more physically sore and mentally frustrated than ever. But something in the ache reminded me that no matter the punishment, I was here by choice. Not by mistake. No hint. Just a very secure chain. A heavy collar. And a combination padlock I was still trying to jail break. I was still fighting.

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Story

The Lock-In – Part 02

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By Cuffed Locked

If you missed it, click for Part 1

My arm was going numb. I had been cranking for what felt like hours. Thirty seconds of spinning to earn maybe ten seconds of light. Long enough to try two combinations, maybe three, on the padlock securing my chain to the solid bolt in Caleb’s floor before the bulb overhead sputtered out and I was swallowed in darkness again. I’d started at 0000. I was somewhere around 0042 now. Forty-two combinations. It felt like nothing. It was nothing. And yet every few attempts meant another round of burning my shoulder, feeding that sad little generator like I was shoveling coal into a dying furnace.

And the second I stopped moving, the silence came rushing back in.

I was trapped in my neighbor’s basement, in a custom escape room that he challenged me to escape from with no safe word, no early outs. And no phone. No clock. No sunlight. I didn’t know if it was 3 a.m. or 9 a.m. I didn’t know if Caleb was upstairs, asleep, watching, or not even home. And somehow, that made it worse. When the light blinked on again, I caught my reflection in the metal face of the lock. My jaw was clenched. Sweat trickled down my chest.

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Story

The Lock-In – Part 01

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By Cuffed Locked

It was a Friday afternoon when I wandered over to Caleb’s garage, as I had dozens of times before. I usually stopped by on Fridays. We had one of those neighborly routines, not quite friends, not quite strangers, but something in between. I’d wander over with a beer and a story from the office. He liked my stories, and I liked watching him work. It was easy. Today, the late-summer heat was thick in the air, and the sound of Caleb’s tools echoed out into the driveway, clinks and whirrs like music he didn’t need speakers for.

His place always looked like the inside of a junkyard exploded and reorganized itself into a workshop. Piles of wires, wood scraps, old appliances taken apart and half rebuilt into God knows what. There was a sort of madness to it, but Caleb had a talent for rigging up stuff that worked. Dangerous stuff, sometimes. Genius stuff, always.

He was working on some half-dismantled snow blower, even though we were still a few months out from the first frost. That was Caleb, always two steps ahead, always building something, fixing something, or taking something apart just to see if he could put it back together better. He was shirtless, and his forearms flexed every time he twisted the wrench.

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Story

The Pit’s Grip – Part 01

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Chapter 1: The Pit’s Call

Steel Bites – Shadows Grip

By Restrained4U

The bitter cold of a November night gripped the air outside Marcus’s cabin, secluded deep in the woods. Inside, a grand fireplace roared, its polished stone mantel casting a golden glow across the cedar-paneled room, mingling with sleek, warm lights recessed in the ceiling.

Four friends lounged across top-tier furniture – Marcus sprawled in a tufted leather club chair, Jamie, 31, wiry and sharp-featured with a short, carefree black mess of hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of a storm, a glint of restless naivety in eyes that had seen scraps and storms without learning the scars, sprawled across the plush depths of a charcoal-gray sectional.

Leo, a lean, 25-year-old surfer who chased waves and thrills with equal reckless abandon, his sun-bleached blonde hair catching the firelight as he perched on a cushioned barstool by a gleaming marble kitchen island.

Ryan leaning against a wall beside a towering abstract artwork – a six-foot strip of molded black leather, its taut curves framed in glinting stainless steel, stretching vertically in a silent challenge against the wall.

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Story

Human Cattle – Part 05

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By Pickle

No sooner had I agreed, then he went over to a counter at the side of the barn and took something from it.  It was Pravilo wrist cuffs.  I’d seen this Russian workout machine that stretches you out with weights while you do exercises designed to be done on the machine.  When I saw it on YouTube I couldn’t resist going to their American distributor’s web site.  The more I checked it out, the more I knew I had to have one.  I caved in and bought the whole set-up.  It took half a day to get the thing set up when it arrived, even with Steve’s help.  It was one of the few pieces of exercise equipment I had that I’d not bought second hand.  It’s a cross between working out and going to the chiropractor all-in-one.  The cuffs are really comfortable and don’t crush the heel of your thumb into the palm of your hand the way a lot of suspension wrist cuffs do.

Stevey boy came over and said “Your wrists, soldier!”  I lifted my arms out in front of me and held them there while he strapped the specialized cuffs on them.  He then reached into his duffle bag, routed around a bit, and came out with a short, metal spreader bar, with a chain attached to each end, and a ring in the centre of the chain.  He walked over to the switch for my electric winch and lowered it to his chest and hooked the spreader bar onto it.  He then brought it a few feet over to hold it in front of me, and grinned.

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Story

Consequences of Failure – Part 04

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By BondageChallengeGames

(Dustin’s POV)

I sat on the table, once again restrained. Once again waiting, half afraid and half turned-on, to see what Ted had planned for me.

He’d let me use the bathroom before tying me up. I assumed this was both a mercy and a warning for how long I was about to be bound.

He bound my wrists with thick leather wrist cuffs, then padlocked them together behind my back. He wrapped a belt around my chest, pinning my arms to my side. He used thick ropes to tie my legs at multiple points to the table. He locked my ankles in cuffs and locked those cuffs to the legs of the table.

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Story

The Alpha Who Moved in Next Door

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By Cuffed Locked

I couldn’t believe my luck when that smokin’ hot guy moved in next door. He drove a pickup truck. Tall and lean, short buzzcut, muscled arms and wearing a sleeveless T. If I had known the trouble I would eventually get into with this alpha guy, I might have thought twice before even going over there in the first place to introduce myself. He was bringing in some boxes that were stacked up in his driveway. I introduced myself as his next-door neighbor and offered to help.

He sized me up right quick and got me to help him move some of those boxes into his three-stall garage. He was friendly but also a bit devilish, almost cocky. Guys like that who are so good looking, in my experience, can often be trouble. I think he might have noticed me checking him out, but he didn’t seem to mind. He told me his name was Ryan and that he was a firefighter.

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Story

Roommate Bondage Arrangement – Part 01

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By BondageChallengeGames

Either Bryan or I was getting tied up tonight, and if everything went as planned, it wouldn’t be me. I sent my other roommate, Jordan, a text, double checking we were on the same page for tonight, and when he replied with a thumbs up, I got out of my car and walked into my apartment.

My roommates and I have an arrangement. The three of us are gay, fairly kinky, and very open about what we are into. When we realized these facts early on into our lease we decided to make the best of it, and we set up a system so that there’s no shortage of bondage in our home. The system is simple: in the kitchen of our apartment there is a calendar where any of us can write our own name under whichever dates we choose. Any date that your name is written under is a day you have consented to be held prisoner by one or both other roommates. On weekdays this capture could begin any time after you walk in the door after work, and on weekends the time you can be put in bondage begins at 7am. You are freed at midnight, unless you write ‘o.n’ next to your name, which indicates you consent to overnight bondage and won’t be released until 5am the next morning.

Of course, just because your name is written on the calendar for a certain date doesn’t necessarily mean you will spend the night tied up at your roommates’ mercy, it just means you could spend the night tied up at your roommates’ mercy. Often any or all of us will sign up as willing for a particular date with the full intention of trying to fight our way out of bondage, resist each other, or get our other roommates locked up before they can lock us up. The hard and fast rule is that only people whose names appear under a day’s date can be tied up on that day, but beyond that it’s anyone’s game.

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