Tag Archives: extreme fantasties

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Blake gets tortured on the cross

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At Dream Boy Bondage, a young slave is crucified naked after having his ass and back whipped. He will hang for hours in agony, his body pulled apart by its own weight.

He immediately feels the power of the cross as his arms and pecs stretch and his abdomen sucks in so he can barely breathe

Smooth, muscle-boy Blake lies collapsed on the floor, totally exhausted after hanging by his wrists for hours, his back screaming in pain from the single-tail whip, his ass covered with red welts like two ripe globes of tenderized man-meat. His master, Alex, enters and flogs his fresh wounds, then sprays them will alcohol and orders him to roll over onto the cross. “You are going to hang for seven hours,” Alex tells the trembling slave. “These muscles you are so proud of are now your worse enemy. Their weight will tear you apart and their strength will keep you in total agony the whole time.” Moments later Blake rises. He immediately feels the power of the cross as his arms and pecs stretch and his abdomen sucks in so he can barely breathe. In one-hour he will be jerked off – and if he doesn’t cum he’ll spend not seven but nine hours on the cross! How can he bear it? The pain is already so intense.

Title of this shoot: Blake Ellis – Total Submission – Chapter 3

Click for Dream Boy Bondage

He shows Vinny the long, steel end of the flogger, then rams it up his butt hole

In one-hour he will be jerked off – and if he doesn’t cum he’ll spend not seven but nine hours on the cross

Story

Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 11

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By PredicamentBondage

Scally-lads are a British phenomenon that have flourished across our society for close on twenty years. They are tribal animals that run in packs, usually congregating in groups of three or more on street corners, with little to do except look for trouble.

They are essentially feral mongrels that live by their wits, self-obsessed, self-serving, enjoying life, without a care in the world.

Their uniform usually consists of ill-fitting, worn and unwashed tracksuits, with hoody tops and trainers or tennis shoes, often branded and new.

Usually uneducated, they have poor language skills, are often loud, abusive and lack social skills.

They typically have very high libidos, fucking whatever low-life females they can convince to ‘put-out’ for them. They make excellent sex slaves but I encourage owners to adopt a very specific attitude towards their scally slaves….

Continue reading Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 11 →

Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 07

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By Greg Alexander

After Trevor face fucked me and made me drink his piss, Collin took his turn. When the two frat boys had had their fill of abusing me for the day and were finally spent, they changed into fresh clothes and then headed out for another night with some of their frat buddies. Problem was, they didn’t bother to untie me first. So I spent the rest of the night suspended in the air between two stools.

Trevor finally let my aching body down the next morning, gave me some food and water, and allowed me some rest for the remainder of the day. But needless to say, my respite was temporary.

Over the course of the next several weeks, my roommate turned frat boy master seemed to take a fiendish delight in devising new ways to torment, dominate and generally humiliate me. In every conceivable way, my life at college had changed to become completely unrecognizable, just as Trevor had promised.

Trevor slept every night in the new double bed he had managed to create by confiscating mine. I on the other hand slept in a small steel dog cage Trevor had purchased at a local pet store, and inside of which I was securely locked, with one dog bowl of water, every night right before bed. Of course, I was always kept naked. When Trevor was in a benevolent mood, he would slip a small pad into my cage on which I could curl up and go to sleep. But on many nights, whenever he felt the need to punish me, he would give me nothing to sleep on at all, and I would have no choice but to put my head down on the hard freezing metal floor of my cage.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 07 →

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New Years Resolution – Part 12

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By lthr_jock

“1683, wake up.”

Paul’s eyes snapped open, and immediately he could see his muscular form still in its thick, skin-tight red rubber in the mirror placed in front of him. He was boiling hot, the sweat pooling in the rubber suit and making him uncomfortable, his muscles aching from the position he had been strapped into. Drool was running freely around the ball gag, so he reckoned he’d been secured like this for some time. From what he could see, he had been strapped on all fours onto some kind of device. His stomach lay on something solid, with his mitted hands secured in front of him to the base of the device. His legs (ankles still strapped to his thighs) were similarly secured, but his knees were held apart by the device leaving his arse open and exposed.

His eyes bulged as he swore and struggled, his mountainous muscles heaving against the black leather restraints. Wrenching against the straps, he could hear them creaking and groaning, until a rubbered form behind him stepped forward and secured a wide leather belt around his waist, securing Paul tightly to the device. Now he couldn’t get enough leverage to affect anything other than a helpless writhing motion. He glared up at the figure in black rubber as he rubbed his hands all over Paul’s quivering flanks.

“Time for your last lesson here, boi.”

Continue reading New Years Resolution – Part 12 →

Story

New Years Resolution – Part 09

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By lthr_jock

As the hours passed, Paul’s muscles cramped painfully in the cage. He found he could relieve the stress slightly by repeatedly flexing them, but still they ached and ached. He could see nothing except the brick wall 6ft in front of him. The leash attached to the back of his collar restricted his head from turning much, so he could only get glimpses of the wall to one side, and the darker expanse of the club to the other. He went to yell for help and found that he couldn’t – try as he might, he could make no sound. Then he realised that he was trying the wrong thing – dogs couldn’t talk. Instead, he tried barking and let out a deep, booming WOOF that echoed in the empty room.

For some reason, that made him feel better, and he woofed to himself a few more times. But still there was no reply from the empty club. Paul found himself drifting, head nodding as he started to fall asleep, and then jerking awake as the leash brought him back to reality. He wondered what he looked like from outside the cage – hairy, semi-naked, collared, booted, mitted and locked into leather shorts. He unconsciously flexed as he thought about the effect seeing all that caged muscle might have. Again, he found his cock trying to harden inside the shorts and grunted with suppressed frustration.

Continue reading New Years Resolution – Part 09 →