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.
By lthr_jock
Despite running, Paul still arrived at work late. Chris and Pete were already behind the bar, dressed exactly as he was. Paul moved to take his usual spot beside them, but Carl intercepted him.
“A bit late, weren’t you, Paul?”
“Yes, sorry about that – won’t happen again.”
“No, I know it won’t – you certainly won’t make that kind of mistake again. Follow me.”
With that Carl moved off into the club, and Paul followed behind him. As he did, so he waved at Chris and Pete. To his surprise, he got no response, the two of them staring straight ahead, a glassy expression in their eyes. He stopped to check if they were OK, but a sharp order from Carl made him leave them behind as he ran to catch up.
Carl had stopped in one of the more secluded areas of the club, close to the cage that Paul had spent some time in. He stood beside some thick chains that were hanging from the ceiling and had in his hands two 3-foot long steel bars that had shackles hanging from them.
“Ok, Paul, take off your jacket and kneel down here with your hands behind your back.”
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!
By lthr_jock
Paul hadn’t realised until then what a good friend Jay was. As Jay talked, Paul felt better, more relaxed and calmer. His situation wasn’t that bad – there were plenty of things he could do. Jay handed Paul another protein shake as he walked the big man around the park, constantly talking in a low voice that seemed to penetrate deep into Paul’s mind.
For over an hour, the two men walked around the park, Jay talking all the time, until the light began to fade as the sun went down. As they exited the park, Jay turned and put his hands on Paul’s shoulders.
“So, feeling better?”
“Yes – thanks, man, you really managed to put everything in perspective.” Paul sighed. “But I still don’t know what I’m going to do for a job.”
By lthr_jock
Paul woke up groggy and stumbled into the bathroom. As his head spun he reflected that he was getting far too old to spend all night out drinking – he just couldn’t bounce back in the morning anymore. Blearily he stared at his unshaven reflection as he pissed in the vague direction of the toilet. Red rimmed eyes and an unshaven face stared back at him, looking more like his father every day. His greying hair had receded giving him a high forehead and as he looked down his belly stuck out over the rim off his shorts. Yes he was quite a catch – 43 and feeling every day of it.
His miserable ruminations were cut short by the unmistakable feel as he peed over his left foot. Groaning, he hopped around the bathroom, grabbing a towel to dry himself off before flushing and emerging into his bedroom.
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!
