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Story

It’s Been a Year

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By Taurus

NOTE: This single-part work by Taurus is a short sequel to his much longer story One Year.

As James spun around, all he saw was white, with the set of washbasin and toilet flashing grey intermittently.

When he eventually slowed down – he was not quite sure if it was double vision or nausea – there were two sets of personal hygiene stations.

It took James another few breaths to calm down enough that he could confirm once and for all that it was not just him – there were two sinks and two toilets on opposite corners of this cube-shaped cell, which was brilliantly lit on all its sides.

Raising his head, he slowly fell towards the ceiling, until his neck got tired enough to bring the rest of the cell back into view.

Disappointed that he could not fly, James lay down on the one unlit surface in the cell he had been on the whole time; a black leather mattress.

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Story

New Year’s Party

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By Mister-X/Spartan

Normally at work on New Year’s Eve we are let out early.  But this time I had work that needed to get done that day.  Naturally we had chosen that day to go to a party, and I needed to get home to get dressed for it.  The party was one in which my partner, Dan, was to be dressed as a police officer and I was to be dressed as an escaped criminal that he was returning to prison after capturing me.  He would be putting me in an authentic prison uniform, one that we purchased on e-Bay, covered with a lot of chains.

Dan had a friend who worked in the state prison about 100 miles away, and he had gotten an authentic prison uniform and badge, as well as an authentic prisoner metal collar with the identification of a real-live prisoner on it, one that was in prison for life.  We hoped to win the party’s contest for best dressed.  Dan’s friend told him to make sure that these are not revealed to any law enforcement personnel, or he would get into trouble!

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Story

Island Master UK – Part 07

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By Wakeysub

[Please remember that EVERYTHING that happens on the Island is consensual. Although the use of safewords has consequences on the Island, they are always observed. If the situation called for it, the safeword would stop the scene. The fact that the slave would be rendered unconscious and would have to be carried away on a stretcher is academic. All limits have been agreed on upfront and are strictly observed. The slave in the story had long, detailed conversations with IslandMasterUK during which he was able to draw out all the slaves deeply hidden fantasies and part of the joy of the Island is that it is a “safe” environment where all these fantasies can be realised. Had the slave in our story not been so naïve (or horny and frustrated) he might have been a lot more prescriptive in his limits – but then again, where would the fun be in that? The limits we are seeing played out are the ones which drove the slave’s fantasies in the discussions.

I hope you are enjoying the story – it’s great to get your feedback either here or on my Recon account. If you have any suggestions for where the story should go let me know. After all – he signed up for a four-week holiday and we are only on the second day!!]

Master West leaned forward and clipped the leash onto my collar and disconnected the dildo cord. A yank on the lead pulled me backwards. I struggled to stand and follow him. My jaw ached, and I moved it from side to side to relieve my joints’ stiffness.

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Story

Gimp Training, Week 5

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Unowned in NYC

It’s been over a month now since my sub became my gimp. While I’m on the job, or out with my buds, the excitement of knowing where he is and how he’s bound, and that he’s not moving until I got home, still keeps me hard through the better part of each day. But the intensity is lessening a little bit, week by week. It’s a relief for me, in a way, because my dick was getting chafed from stepping into the port-a-john to jerk off five or six times a day during those first couple weeks. The other guys had started razzing me about it — was I getting old man’s prostate?  Going to jerk off again?  If only they knew that’s exactly what I was doing.

That first week, the gimp was on my mind practically every second of every day.  Horned up beyond belief, but tempered with a strong dose of concern.  Maybe he’d overheat, or there’d be a fire or a gas leak at the house.  Maybe he’d completely freak out and I’d come home to a zombie gimp, mentally broken beyond the point of what I wanted.  Maybe some freak accident would clog up the air tube in his gag.  The gimp and I had talked about all these dangers and more, in those last couple months leading up to his transformation.   As far as he was concerned, the chances were so remote for any of these possibilities, that  it was a no-brainer.

The potential risks were well worth the reward of him being allowed to truly live as my object.   He didn’t have to twist my arm.  I had just wanted to make absolutely sure he was aware of what he’d be getting himself into, and that he wasn’t off in a fantasy world, unaware of certain realities.  By the time I’d decided I really wanted to do it with him, I wanted to be sure we weren’t going to get a few days or a few weeks into it just to have him try to get out of it or negotiate for something easier.

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Story

The Rules of the Game – Chapter 02

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By Jackson Amacher

[Earlier that day…]

At Dawson Military Academy, before graduation seniors take part in a massive wargame. What it involves, no one knows. Only that it is an honor to be picked.

There are three teams, each led by three cadets with the three highest scores on an exam. Those cadets pick the other players. Less than half the senior class is selected. Anyone who makes it through gets a silver medal on their graduation uniform. Anyone on the winning team, gets gold.

One cold morning the senior class reported to duty, as instructed, in the school’s parking lot.

They all wanted gold.

Good friends Dylan and Mark laughed and nervously chatted with each other.

“I can’t believe you didn’t make the cut for captain. So unfair,” Mark told Dylan.

“Yeah, it sucks. No prize for fourth place, though,” Dylan said.

The lists of students on each team were posted.

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Story

Raptor – Chapter 5

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By Bikermike

Alex was left to recover for an hour or so; resting his bruised and cut body lying on his front on his makeshift bed, made out of wooden pallettes. He was milked once again; this time his captors needed to attach toothed clamps to his nipples in order for him to gain an erection so soon after his ordeal.

His life settled down once again into its routine: food then milked first thing in the morning (often fucked in the process), working the generator, milked again, food, generator, milked; every other day made to do various physical exercises and so on.

Even though he was beaten on occasions when he had not produced enough sperm, he was quite enjoying his life as a slave. Thoughts sometimes came into his mind as to what was going to happen to him when his ejaculate was no longer able to produce testosterone B? Would he be released? Did he want to be released at all? He needed to get answers from his captors but he was forbidden to initiate any conversation with them on pain of severe punishment.

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Story

Buying Love – Part 5

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By Cutieboy90

Cutieboy90 bondage storiesSputnik shuffled from one hoof to the other, grinding the bit between his teeth. His mind was racing, his thoughts all blurring together. The grainy remnants of a sugar cube clung to the back of his tongue stimulating his salivary glands, and the aphrodisiac already doing its work on his achingly stiff cock.

“Easy there, stud.” Ian gave his butt a gentle tap with the crop. “You’ve been doing well, this is just going to be fun for you! Just… Hold your… Horses.” Ian chuckled unable to keep his intended deadpan delivery. Sputnik rolled his eyes as his handler doubled over in a breathless fit of giggles.

“Nervous much?” Rich poked his head through the door, the cheery twinkle in his eyes betraying his cool demeanor. “Pull yourself together, it’s showtime. Here you go, Sputnik.” Rich stuffed another sugar cube past the stallion’s bit and ducked back through the door from whence he appeared.

Sputnik gulped the sweet grainy treat down. That was the third energy-boosting aphrodisiac-laced serving he’d been given in the last five minutes. Guess they didn’t think he was horny enough. He huffed in frustration.

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Story

The Drone – Part 4

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By FirefighterSir

After the weekend when Jax and his drone had appeared unexpectedly at the camp, grunt’s life had passed back into routine. The young blond muscle jock had departed after grunt’s punishment whipping and there had been no other visitors.

Days passed quietly, waking at dawn as cool pine-scented air filtered down through the forest. Preparing the Captain’s gear and food for the day, opening the gate when he drove off to a chorus of barking dogs, turning to the list of chores left behind. Each item was assigned a time limit, and grunt’s day was dictated by the clock and by the shifting patches of shade he took advantage of to leaven the heat of the summer sun.

Each evening the Captain would return in a rumble of truck tires on the steep dirt road. The dog pack would stir and begin to bark and howl, jumping around eager for attention. The slave would already be waiting at the gate, and it would swing away at the precise moment the truck turned into sight. Then grunt would stand momentarily at attention, head bowed as the bearded master opened the driver door. Often he would briefly acknowledge the slave and indicate items such as fresh food to be fetched out.

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