Tag Archives: featured authors

Story

Warden – Part 02

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By Jordan Thomas

Chapter 2 – Exploration

Over the course of several days, 42-year-old Philip was curious about his findings, but tonight during his night shift again, he got bored. Since there wasn’t much to do other than playing with some stuff on his desk, he managed to take another peek into the room.

Beep. The green light flashed again.

This time the door opened easily, not like before. To his surprise the room was lit — the lights were already on when he opened the door. Strange. He paced around the room again until he reached the rows of cabinets he had previously opened like a treasure chest. He took a quick look through the glass on each cabinet until he stopped in front of the last one that he hadn’t opened before because he got interrupted by his colleague. He put his hands on the handle and slowly opened the cabinet. The door swung open easily, and inside was a full CO uniform but made in leather. In conclusion there were 5 cabinets; those 5 held things he had never seen before aside from porn websites. But the last one — it was unnerving.

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Story

Warden – Part 01

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By Jordan Thomas

Chapter 1 – Finding

The name is Philip Carrington, a regular corrections officer (CO) from a small town in Colorado. He used to be a Marine, so he had that “big tough guy” build: broad shoulders, big chest, thick thighs, and a neat crew cut. But for some reason, after a few years on the floor lingering around the cell blocks, one day he was assigned a desk job to handle administration of the prison inventory. You know, the one who handles stockkeeping for the equipment used in the prison, like shackles, cuffs, etc. For some it may be a nice thing to not walk around the facility and just hang around in a room, but for Philip it was torture as he’s an active person and now he’s stuck at his desk providing things that other COs ask for.

After a few days stuck in his mundane fort of solitude, he decided to do routine checks on the inventory. At the back of the room there was a door behind some old shelves. He was intrigued by it and tried to clear up some space by dragging the empty shelf away. To his surprise the door had some stickers that he could not quite read because of the dust sticking to the old peeled sticker. He wiped them off a little, ran his hands over the residue, and got a glimpse of the wording that said: “HIGH RISK SUPPLIES: AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY.”

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Story

Just Bondage – Part 01

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By Dalton Ott

Note from Metal: This is a re-post of a true bondage story that was originally posted under Anonymous. The author, Dalton Ott, who has been featured prominently on Serious Male Bondage, has subsequently revised his story, added to it, and has agreed to have it appear again, and under his name this time.

At a local sauna two men engaging in friendly conversation somehow stumbled on to the topic of bondage, not your usual sauna conversation. It was awkward at first but soon they discovered they shared a common secret. They were both secretly into heavy sensory deprivation bondage.

The excitement grew into a three-hour, intense conversation at a local coffee shop. They shared stories about their experiences and bondage equipment, what they owned and what they fantasized about.

They eventually talked about their unfulfilled bondage fantasies and discovered they both enjoyed extreme bondage without the need for sex. All they wanted to experience were long sensory deprivation sessions in heavy rubber or leather. They both had an unquenched passion to explore the depths of extreme subspace.

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Story

A Case of Mistaken Identity

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By Arrest22

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was about noon on a Friday. I work overnights, so I was just beginning my weekend. I was flying down the highway on 680. I was wearing dark blue jeans, my Friday staple, a midnight blue polo, and birkenstocks. I changed into my sandals after hitting the gym at work.

Sometimes when the music hits, you lose track of time. In my case, I also lost track of my speedometer.

I saw the blue lights in my rearview before I heard them.

“FUCK!” I exclaimed loudly to no one.

I found a safe place to pull over. Doing so was not the easiest task as it was lunch hour on a Friday. I could hear the cop car telling me to pull over from their loud speaker. It was annoying because that’s exactly what I was trying to do.

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Story

Matt’s Midnight Submission Slam: The Boss’s Leather Grip

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By Matt Nemo

Aight, picture this: I’m Matt, your everyday NYC grindin’ sub dude, 28, built like a wiry punk with tats snakin’ up my arms and a collar kink that hits harder than a subway rush. Workin’ some dead-end gig in the Village, but nights? That’s when the real party’s poppin’. One Friday, I’m scrollin’ Grindr, horny as hell, when this daddy-type—call him Jax—DMs me: “You look like you need a real man to own that ass. My place. Now. Wear nothin’ but your jock.”

Heart racin’, cock twitchin’, I bolt over to his loft in Chelsea. Door swings open, and bam—Jax is this 6’4″ leather god, beard like a fuckin’ forest, harness huggin’ his ripped chest, eyes drillin’ into me like lasers. “On your knees, boy,” he growls, voice low and gravelly, makin’ my hole clench just hearin’ it. I drop, pavement burnin’ my skin from the walk, but who cares? This is sub heaven.

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Story

Lost No More – Part 01

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By OKLASH

You crawl in bed with me upon my beckon and I lay you down on your stomach. Your sobs of anguish have subsided to free-flowing tears, and you tremble as I lay close to you. I run one fingernail across the angry welts on your back. “Relax,” you hear me say, “and let go. The hard part is behind you for now.”

This moment is unscripted if perhaps preordained by that part of your soul that still resides in your past, where “freedom” was another word for “lost.”

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Story

Try Not to Laugh

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By TickleToy

This story was written for JamesBondageSx.

As the last leather cuff fastened shut around my wrist, I wondered again what I’ve gotten myself into. Held tight against a padded horizontal bench, I tried to readjust position but I was stretched out just enough to be immobile, but not uncomfortable. I sighed with a mix of anticipation and arousal, the cool air in the cellar sending a shiver up my naked body.

My captor moved from the head of the bench down to my feet, inspecting each restraint. Thick cuffs locked around my wrists and ankles, buckled tightly, with a length of rope pulled taut to each corner. Smaller straps looped around my elbows and thighs strip away the last pieces of potential freedom I might have. After a moment, he looked me in the eyes and smiled, obviously satisfied.

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