In this video from Bound Gods, Officer Connor Maguire beats and fucks Alexander Gustavo. Bent over the desk, Alexander is stripped naked for a full inspection before he is made to swallow Connor’s hard cock. The title of this video is “Officer Maguire beats and fucks a stud for littering.”
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This is an excerpt from ty dehner’s new leather kink novel, coming July 31, 2021, to Amazon Kindle and in print. This excerpt is exclusive to Metalbondnyc.com. Posted here with permission.
By ty dehner
The red Dodge Ram finds a parking spot near The Barracks, the Palm Springs area premiere leather bar. There is a light drizzle falling this evening after an afternoon of thunder showers. After parking, Mateo checks that he is prepared to meet the man that has him locked in chastity, looking at his face in his rear view mirror. He smiles as his young skin is clear of any blemishes and he has freshly shaved. His black hair on his head is in a close crop that makes it cool for him when he is on the work site. Opening the door of his truck, Mateo’s boot lands in a puddle as he steps out of his truck.
“Fuck!”
He had worked hard to shine his Wesco’s just two hours ago. He steps out of the puddle, reaching behind his driver’s seat he pulls out a rag. Placing his boot up on the door rim, he wipes it down and brings back the shine he had worked so hard on. Thinking back upon their first encounter in his trailer, he knew that that KTM rider had to be a leather man. Why else did he have them meet at The Barracks. Being in leather and bondage himself, Mateo didn’t want to overdo his first meeting so he settled for his Wesco Boss boots, black leather motorcycle chaps over his black skinny Levi’s, a black t-shirt with the Mr. S logo on it and his leather vest.
Check out Nick Prescott and Adam Herst in Bad Cop: Scene 1 at Titan Men
On a late night call to a residential alarm trigger, partners Nick Prescott and Adam Herst find an empty house — and a bottle of lube. Adam drops to his knees, taking out Nick’s rock-hard cock. Nick holds his partner’s head down on his dick, Adam’s own monster throbbing below. Adam sucks him deep, his mustache hairs tickling Nick’s bush — and sliding against his shaft on the way up. Nick whips his dick on Adam’s breathless face. They kiss, cocks grinding, before Nick returns the favor. Nick gasps for air, getting a kiss for his efforts. Adam sucks his bud again, his face getting dick whipped. He offers his ass to Nick, who soon bangs him from behind (“There you go!”) Nick grabs Adam’s uniform, pulling him in closer as he goes faster. Adam sits down on Nick’s dick, the bottom’s cock rock hard as he rides. Adam eats Nick’s hairy hole before fucking him, the top’s smooth abs tightening. Nick gets on his back, his hairy bod soon covered in cum.
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By Rubrpig
We finally settled into our new house. The move had been rather uneventful and the unpacking of the house did not take as long as setting up the new dungeon in the basement. One of the things that attracted us to the house was that the foundation was made of stones and mortor. So once the dungeon was setup it looked almost medieval which just made it more intense when we were playing.
Sir had settled into his new role as my Sir and head of the family as well as becoming an expert fucker. He seemed bent on making up for lost time and my ass was getting worn out from all the fucking we had been doing.
We had finally had a long talk about trust and limits and he had agreed to my hard limits of no blood, scat, or permanent markings. So we explored what turned him on and we found that like me he was a strong sadist and really enjoyed inflicting pain. Also having me in heavy bondage for long term scenes really got him rock hard. Many a night was spent with me strapped tightly into a heavy leather straight jacket or sleeping next to him in a sleep sack.
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
CHAPTER FOUR – THE REVENGE
Colin and I, Jim Barnes, became part of Tyrell’s elite team. I discovered they were highly respected as an efficient and effective law enforcement group, who took no shit. That was why no-one harassed the sergeant, and why he got his pick of new recruits. He’d got it all worked out – cruisers and bikes by day; bikes only by night – which was very unusual. The HP station operated normally in the daytime, with a small office staff and a full complement of officers. At night there was rarely any workers – only in emergencies. Tyrell was in charge; the captains and lieutenants were content to leave it so, as long as there were no complaints. He kept the basement double-locked, claiming it was a workshop with expensive equipment. Indeed it was, but not the type of equipment in a normal workroom.
Colin and I soon got to know the rest of the group. The women office workers were pleasant and efficient; we, and the sergeant, made much of them and we joked and worked well together. The cruiser drivers and the daytime motor officers seemed straight, mainly family men, although at least one had a gloved hand badge. The night shift was smaller and more exclusive. Basically it was four motor officers – Tyrell, Witkowski, Foreman [Colin] and Barnes [me].
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form
PART ONE
Hi, my name is Jim, Jim Barnes. I used to be Highway Patrol Motorcycle Officer # 3758, Barnes J, but now I’m on the run. On the run from a blackhearted, black-leathered HP Sergeant, who tricked me and raped me and on whom I had my revenge. In case he catches up with me, I want to tell my side of the story. So here goes.
I heard the siren and saw the flashing lights too late. I’d had a few beers with friends after work, before zipping up my leathers and climbing onto the Harley. It was a cool spring night as I turned onto the freeway. The warmth of the engine warmed my balls and prick, as I clamped my knee-high black boots to the bike. Down came the visor; up went the speed and my body responded to the vibration of the machine. My penis expanded, seeking release from my tight leather pants.
Two Highway Patrol motorcycles were following me, as I slid into the slow lane, looking for a place to stop. One bike and officer overtook me, signaling for me to take the nearby exit; the other followed closely behind. From my military days, I knew there was no point in not obeying.
As I took the exit, I found we were out in the country, further from town than I’d realized. The first bike had stopped at the bottom of the slope and a tall figure in black leathers swung off the saddle. His six-foot frame was impressive as he came towards me, black leather jacket and slightly flared breeches tucked into high black boots. His face was in shadow under the white helmet, with the single street light reflecting on his plain glass shades. “Do you know how fast you were going, sir?”, a gravelly voice asked “I’m sorry, officer. It’s a new bike and I wanted to open her up” I countered. “License and registration please. Turn off the engine and come over to me, sir”.
By Desert Pioneer
Arriving at the end of the path, Jack gets his first look at the blockhouse. Abandoned now, it was originally built as a defensive lookout by rural politicos to protect and defend. The structure involves a number of loopholes for defensive fire. Holly shit, thinks Jack, they’re using it as a fuck house, and it’s fucking full of glory holes. Although the light from inside is low, the darkness outside lights up each loophole as if it was calling for voyeurs. It appears that everyone is inside, but Jack remains back for some time because the smell of weed is pungent, and someone might still be outside.
After a bit and hearing only a low melodic tap-tap beat from inside, Jack carefully approaches one side of the blockhouse for his first peek.
Officer Merce is standing near the doorway by a small bar. He is talking to Feller in a rapid tone while poking his finger into his chest. Merce is wearing a full CHIP uniform including boots. Jack thinks that his uniform along with the overplayed attitude and arrogant body language smack of an unpolished sexual bully.
By Desert Pioneer
Thursday 9PM, driving north on SH-99 Jack is getting tired. Looking for something to occupy his mind on this crazy lonesome drive Jack fantasizes about maybe pulling into a rest stop. Not a too busy rest stop, a few cars and a few trucks, on a not so major highway. The trucks are silent and cool, like they are there for a while. The men’s room has a single bulb light over the door and no traffic in or out of the door. Stuff that a fantasy is made of.
Jack’s black roadster pulls into the middle of the stop with a full view of the men’s room door. He waits and thinks about what he might run into in the restroom. Cutting his thoughts against reality he considers that this is interior northern California; not a liberal in your face queer community, but likely full of red necks who are hot in fantasy but pretty dull, and sometimes dangerous, in reality.
“What a shitty fantasy” he thinks. It comes from his angle of keeping fantasy close to his reality which, in Jack’s mind, pulls it more toward possibility. Unfortunately, the reality that serves as his base, ain’t all that. He’s had a few encounters that introduced fetishes. Yet google “fetish” and get a list hundreds long. So that’s all Jack; on the low side of fetish experience and a big bucket list containing things (1) that he has done, (2) he has fantasized about, and (3) stuff that he hasn’t even thought of yet. Of course, the big one that all bottom’s have; being used by a man, a stranger, for his calling of that man, regardless of any service to the bottom. Fear of strangers stoked Jack from head to toe.
