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Tag Archives: extreme fantasties
Who’s My Gimp
Meeting him for a first time – Part 02
By Eckie
Option one:
I had another free day, so still enough time and did not worry when he released me for shower and cleanup and made me end up sealed and chained right after again, I did not even worry yet when two meals later the very same happened again, trusting him pretty much completely anyway and assuming that he still played tricks on the schedule of meals to keep me confused on time or date. But another two meals later I worried then finally, this must be the time when I have to get out and home, given the travel distance and what I assumed MUST have passed by now, we are close to the maximum I could stay here for sure. His short brief words however were the same, shower, clean, get back into the suit and then leaving locking the cell proper again.
I decided not to get into the suit anymore, it must be time to leave, so waited naked for him to return, but he did not even enter the room, just looked through the tine barred opening of the heavy door, seeing me naked and left. I kept waiting, but he did not come back, started shouting for him, but no reaction, hours must have passed, but nothing changed, and by the amount of tiredness I felt, I could not stay awake all the time, I dozed away several times, every time being awake I shouted for him, but at no time he reacted, I wondered if he even could hear me, was he home, even if, was my shouting heard upstairs, a little or at all ? Sitting in a small cell with nothing but a dim tiny light off the ceiling that never switches on or off means I was not aware, was it day, night, today, tomorrow or …
Discipline Training Institute – Part 1: Recruitment
Fiction by JockBoy
What if the savage world of ruthless discipline you crave isn’t just your fantasy, but your destiny—a sentence you cannot escape? The Discipline Training Institute is calling—and you WILL belong inside.
Wouldn’t it be something if a place like this truly existed—a hidden institute built for strong men like you with unspoken, darker cravings? It always begins the same way: a message appears in your inbox. You are lured into a world where your false hyper-masculinity is shattered, leaving you broken and born anew as something you don’t understand but can never escape.
This is labeled fiction. But fiction is a fragile disguise. It can conceal what should never be spoken, distort what should be clear, or comfort you while quietly smuggling in truths too sharp to admit. Sometimes a “story” is the only vessel strong enough to carry truth and reality.
Continue reading Discipline Training Institute – Part 1: Recruitment
The Firemans Union – Part 08
By Felon
So the two of us were stretched out on tables with lit taper candles inserted in our assholes. There was activity at the other end of the room, probably eating, drinking and card playing. I assumed the candle wax would eventually burn low, but I had to lay very still on the table. Looking down I noticed some new equipment laying on the floor, chains, which looked to be former truck snow chains, clamps of various sizes, oxygen tanks similar to the tanks firefighters wore while putting out fires. Electric drills (hmmmm).
The room was a rather large room with wood floors and some tiled floors like one would see in an old supermarket. The neighborhood seemed to be on the downside, and either the place was soundproofed, or there was little or no commercial traffic in the area. I had lost total track of their time, and these men all worked different shifts — coming and going etc. I was exhausted, and Probie One looked like he was as well. The cracking of the fire dept radio was ever present. Without warning, I could hear chairs moving and footsteps.
Starlight – Part 03
By Raybound
The flight back from Saratoga was very relaxed. I was still locked into the steel cock restraint but travelled light, tee shirt and shorts. Jed, as usual, had the full black leather get up. On the journey we got to discussing his boots. The company that made them, Jean Gaborit, was French. He told me how they had taken three months to arrive, having been hand made to measure.
To my mind it was well worth the wait. They were the perfect boot, heavy grade black leather with lacing around fourteen pairs of steel hooks. They really underlined his authority, something that I found incredibly erotic. Jed was tall with a fine, muscled body and the combination of skin-tight leather jeans worn beneath the boots that reached right onto the knee where the laces were tied with neat bows and a wide saddle leather belt with a triple buckle arrangement at the waist looked absolutely fantastic.
[[WARNING: This story contains extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]
Men Forged in Iron, Leather, Fear, And Blood
By Jockboy
Hour 0: More Than I Bargained For
I thought I was ready for this. Sixty-seven hours sequestered in that rotting tomb of an abandoned prison—facing down four men whose cruelty I’d worshipped and feared online, clinging to the fantasy that this was my forge, my shot at genuine mastery.
Pain isn’t new to me. My body’s been shaped by rugby scrums, USMC infantry runs, and the silence of rooms where control passes on the snap of a cuff or the thud of a paddle. I’m built thick, a compact fortress: broad chest with the striations of hundreds of bench presses, shoulders like capped stone, hands calloused from rifles and barbells and uncounted deadlifts.
My shins and knees bear the roadmap of old wounds—rugby studs, gravel pits, forced marches—etched in white ridges and purpled, weathered skin.
Continue reading Men Forged in Iron, Leather, Fear, And Blood
A Custom Built Isolation Cell
By Scribe
I am quite proud of the dungeon I have built in my basement. I have a cross, bondage table, doggy cage, and sling together with the usual equipment; hoods, sleepsack, restraints, floggers, and whips. The problem is, my visits with an available dom are infrequent. My bondage equipment requires that someone else secures me and releases me. I never get as much bondage and punishment as I would like.
Consequently, I read with interest an ad from Discipline Technologies offering to build a prison cell in my own home. I could imprison myself without any help and remain incarcerated for up to two weeks before being released, again without outside assistance.
I requested additional details and received a packet of information illustrating designs and options. The cost was substantial but the product looked very exciting, much beyond any bondage I had ever experienced.
I chose what DT called a pit cell. The cell would be in my basement dungeon but entry would be from a trap door built into the floor from the bedroom above.