Imagine working out in a prison-style bootcamp, behind bars in a small jail-cell-like space, being yelled at by ex-con personal trainers. Sign me up for that!
I’ve blogged about this before, but it was in the New York Times recently. Here’s a screen shot:
Read the full article here.
And see the official Con Body site here.
Now drop and give me 20!
Check out this post-workout selfie posted this morning on social media by “Ray Bear,” who is on Twitter as @ARRRBEEEE.
I can’t tell you how excited I get seeing that cock cage clearly visible under his under armour. Fuck! This is the kind of guy I think about when reading stories like “Chastity Suit” and “The Edge.”
Fucking hot if you ask me.
By Rubbag
My first visit to the Dominus Club had been as a player. I could say I was just trying to win back my friend Josh’s chastity, but the truth is that just like any dumb jock, I was trying to prove how good I was.
Better than Josh, better than anyone, so I thought until I lost big time.
Now, its my second time at the Dominus Club. On my knees, bound in tight rubber straps. My jaw stretched wide and aching with the ball gag my mouth is stuffed with. I would be naked, but I’m still in this fucking joke of a chastity suit. Little rubber briefs which trap my meat out of reach but always needing to, yeah the joke’s on me, a dumb fucka jock.
I don’t know why I crawled here.
I don’t know what they’re going to do.
All I know is that I’ve just got to hang in there and take it.
Neill, one of the biggest muscle guys at Dream Boy Bondage, is forced to work out with heavy barbells — and he is whipped every time he makes a mistake or shows even a little weakness:
Here is a free, high-def video clip — be sure to watch this one in full-screen mode:
And here are more pictures from this series:
You can see everything that happens to Neill by clicking through to Dream Boy Bondage.
Jockstrap recently sent this image and the note below
Jockstrap writes,
Dear Metal,
Thought you might like another view; this is before my boxing helmet is strapped and locked over the top of my bridle and gag (note how he has had ‘saddle’ put on the forehead strap as I hate being called that even more than jockstrap!!)
The spare keys to my whole rig are stored in the master safe that locks to the front of the rig. This serves two purposes; one in case of emergency I can be sent the code to unlock myself (this has only happened once in the last couple of years and was expensive as the deal is that every padlock is replaced afterwards to ensure there’s no chance that I can have made duplicate keys) but the main one is psychological — hearing all the keys rattling around, so close but so far away sometimes drives me nuts. I’ve spent hours fiddling with the combination, even though I know the chances of hitting on the right code are pretty much zero.
A lot of attention is spent on monitoring the tightness of the belts — inevitably they have been able to get steadily tighter as I’ve lost some weight, and the belts stretch slightly over time. Again the deal is that they must all be strapped and locked as tight as it’s possible to get them. Everything on the rig is locked and usually double or triple locked and inter connected. The creaking is phenomenal and always makes him laugh. When I’m caned, there are sometimes ‘creak sets’ where he will place a cane on the floor and I have to pick it up without creaking or the strokes double. No prizes for guessing the inevitable result.
Oh and I’m often sloganned up like this and forbidden to wash them off!
I’ll shut up now but thought you’d appreciate some details maybe.
—Jockstrap
Metal would like to thank Jockstrap for this update!
Yes, you heard me, inmate, it’s the PRISON CELL workout!
And your trainers are genuine ex-cons!
It’s called ConBody. Right here in New York Fuckin City. Find out more here and here.
Thanks to Prison Library author Nate Stone for passing this along!
By MetalbondNYC
A quick recap: It all started a few years back when I signed up for a personal training program. On just the second day when I worked out with Bryan, I was at the gym for more than four hours, and the workout not only included the actual workout, but being used sexually as well. In the locker room after the personal training session, that first week, I was subjected to bondage, forced nudity, discipline and humiliation — plus a very cruel and painful form of chastity. As I said, that was just the first week. Things got even worse from there. It was sort of like slipping down a rabbit hole. Or, as my buddy Mark would say, getting caught in quicksand.
This is js aka “jock slave.” He lives on my block.
