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By Joshua Ryan
I realize that writers need to predict the questions that their readers will ask, so I’ll answer the question that’s on your mind: Did I think about what would happen if I found out I wouldn’t actually get celled up with Steven? Or if I found out that I hated him or something?
So the answer is, yeah! I thought about it. It got more interesting during the months between my passing the first check to Donald and my appointment with the arresting officer. At first I hadn’t wanted to give it much thought. I was so fascinated by the idea of getting close to this man whose story I was putting myself into … It would be a tragedy if anything went wrong about him.
But gradually I was getting a feel for writing my own story. I don’t mean writing, like, on a keyboard. I mean, I’d got this idea about going to prison, and I’d written the whole script, and now it was getting produced, and it was exactly the kind of story I wanted to be in! And if Steven got cut out of the script somehow, I would still be in it. It was my own story.
By AlphaMetal
Trey was in the weight room and had just stood up, after finishing a set on the bench press, when he saw the Assistant Coach walk into the room.
Trey knew he couldn’t let his face show it, but inside he seethed with anger at the man. This is the guy who sat in a chair reading a magazine about a month ago while Trey was humiliated by that twisted medic. And the same guy who just last week strapped Trey to a medical exam table in a humiliating doggie-style position and beat his ass with a leather punishment strap until he almost passed out.
Trey’s ass was still bruised from that session and he could feel his body tense with hatred when he saw the coach walk into the gym. Trey was glad the coach hadn’t noticed him, and he laid back on the bench, flattening himself, hoping the coach would not see him. He turned his head and watched the coach walk to the dip bars, attach a weight plate to his workout belt, and do a series of perfectly-executed dips. Trey reached up to begin another set of bench presses, hoping the barbell might hide him from the coach’s vision.
It didn’t work.
By Robmacz
We all did as we were told, and guards appeared to unlock our chains. The noise of the chains as they clanged to the ground and echoed around the room was incredible, and it made my dick jump again. The chains were removed and plastic boxes were placed in front of us. We were told to strip off and put all our gear into the boxes. I just started throwing my stuff in a box, and it wasn’t long before I was naked. Some of the other guys were slower and the guards yelled at them to get a move on.
Once we were all completely naked, we were each inspected. Mouth, hair, ears, feet, dick, arse. Everything probed. Then we were ordered to turn to our left and walk with our hands behind our backs. We followed a guard into a room with one single chair. Standing next to it was an inmate in a black and white striped jumpsuit. The guard pointed at the first guy in line. ‘You–sit in the chair.’ As soon as he sat down the inmate in stripes took some clippers and buzzed the guy’s head. It took only a couple of minutes to get all his hair off. When he was done he was ushered out of the door and the next guy took the seat.
By PFC Pflege
(This story originally appeared at Bondagezine.com)
I was twenty-four when I was outposted from the Marine Corps, and returned to Philadelphia. I was lean, I was hard, I had a military haircut, and the Marine Corps “look”. After I got set up in an apartment, and was back at my old job, I soon was hitting the local gay bar scene. Philadelphia’s gay community wasn’t very big back then – not very big now – and there were only4 or 5 gay bars. I discovered that a whole lot of gays had a thing about Marines, and I didn’t lack for dates, and in 18 months or so, I must have had a couple of hundred guys, sometimes two a night. I liked lean, hard guys like myself, and I liked to fuck. I also discovered that there was no end of guys who wanted to suck off a Marine.
By felon
The message was left for me to expect a visitor this afternoon. I was to be in casual dress — jeans, tee shirt and tennis shoes. At approximately 4 p.m. I got a cell phone message to step outside my apartment and wait. I was already dressed, so I threw on a sweatshirt and stepped outside. An unmarked police cruiser circled the building and pulled up in front of my apartment.
It was one of the men that transported me from the hell camp back to my place. He stepped from the car and walked over to me, bent me over the hood and cuffed my hands, then loaded me in the back of his car.
He drove off and after a few minutes of stone-cold silence announced we were on our way for an appointment with my court-appointed psychiatrist for a “review.”
Continue reading Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 10
By felon
LATER THAT NIGHT:
So far the entire event has been very confusing/intimidating and charged — all at the same time. So now I am locked in a cell in a barn on a non-working farm in West Virginia. I can hear trucks coming and going, the smell of a campfire, the sound of men laughing, the pop of bear cans, and the barking of dogs.
Occasionally I hear the dragging of chains, the pop of a semiautomatic, and the crack of a whip. The barn is dark — lit by one lousy bulb, creating shadows dark and deep. The door opens and one of the men that “booked” me and handled my POA walks into the room — now in knee boots and green camos.
Continue reading Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 08
By Suitandbondagelover
It’s Monday at the office and everything is going as if nothing has happened between Paul, our boss and me. We are absorbed in the work. Monday evening before going to bed I place the chastity cage and warn Paul who orders the locking remotely.
Tuesday morning I am released, and it repeats every night.
We are Thursday at the end of the day and I receive an email from Paul. It is written that a package will be delivered to me this evening but that I cannot open it until Friday evening. Once at home I prepare to eat when the doorbell rings. It’s a courier with a fairly large and heavy box. I sign the receipt and put this box in my room. I am intrigued by this box, what does it contain?
Friday before leaving the office Paul tells me to open the box as soon as I get home because it contains the information for tonight.
I arrive home and before taking off my suit I run to the box and open it. Inside there is a full soldier’s uniform. It’s combat gear, a beret, combat boots, even the underwear is that of a soldier.
