Still hogtied, Mike is made to suck on a dildo. He gags and is told he’s going to learn how to suck a dick right. By now, he’s very uncomfortable with the bondage as he struggles to cope with the rubber cock in his throat. Then, kneeling with his hands tied behind his back, he gets his virgin hole fingered as he struggles, grunts and moans in shame.
VIDEO at Hard Up Straight Guys
Title of this shoot: Mike – Part 2
By lthr_jock
Mike screamed and yelled into the gag. All sorts of possibilities were going through his mind and his fought hard against the restraints causing the bed to jump and bang against the wall. Gordon stood watching him grinning at the sight. Although he had promised nothing sexual would happen to Mike, he enjoyed the sight of the muscular, restrained male fighting to break free. Gordon let Mike go on for a couple of minutes and then he took his hand and placed it over Mike’s mouth and pushed down. Mike felt the ballgag pushed further into his mouth completely blocking it. As it did, he had to breathe through his nose and he then realised that Gordon had blocked his nose as well. He stopped yelling as he fought for breath. As soon as he stopped, Gordon removed his hand and Mike gulped in the air again.
“Alright, Mikey, calm down. Nothing has happened to you.” Mike opened his eyes and stared up at Gordon . “I promised, didn’t I? You got drunk and passed out. Jan did this to you – his sense of humour I’m afraid. But I made sure nothing else was done.”
Gordon looked at his watch. “Right. Time for me to go. Jan usually sleeps late after a session like that, so you can expect to be for another couple of hours – unless, you want to stop?” Mike stopped still. Looking down he could see that his cock was now fully erect. He shook his head.
“Good then – and look, those pictures will be nice souvenirs for you.” Gordon tousled Mike’s hair “See you soon.”
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.