Tag Archives: incarceration

Men need captivity

Master Jack, who runs the popular and long-running Bondagezine and BondageMaster sites, knows that many of you fuckers need to be locked up. Now, with a brand new venture he has just launched, he is not messing around.

It’s called Men Need Captivity, and you can make arrangements with him to be locked up — for real. There are five different “accommodations” to choose from, including “The Refuge,” “Business Class” and “The Max.” Which bondage adventure suits you best?

Click directly below for more information:

Master Jack Men Need Captivity

Follow-up letter from an inmate

The inmate who did time at Hampton Jail in Iowa wrote another letter, and this time he enclosed a picture! See below:

 

Dear Metal,

Well, I got discharged a few days ago. It was a complex experience, and there are some things that you always knew, but become so real in the lockup.

The place is absent of any measure of time. There are no clocks, nothing to mark the passage of time. Sure, there is a clock tower nearby, but the building air conditioning and the sound of other inmates drowns out those reminders. You wonder, is that the morning light that you see through your narrow line of sight, or is it just the nightlight? I was fooled more than once. Natural daylight has a different hue than light from a bulb, but the grayness of the cellblock paint seems to be very effective in taking what warmth from natural light and turning it into something a bit more soulless.

Many of your senses are dulled, but others just seem to be heighted.

When I got home, I could smell it — the lingering odor from the jail uniform. The uniform, made of a heavy cotton almost denim like quality. The smell stays with you. You can smell it on your skin. And with that smell, you carry the marker of a prisoner — an almost DNA-like connection to all the other men who have worn that uniform before you. You might think of it as a brotherhood, but that is not really it. It is more of an ethereal chain gang that connects us all, the smell of the steel doors and the aged paint, the inklings of dust.

Also, you come to understand the power of the cell door, both as an element of confinement as well as symbol of security. The security to keep you where you are, and the security perhaps of where you are supposed to be. The night in the hole — which I spent because of my bad attitude — was jarring. I slept, but I kept being constantly awakened. Each time, I would test the door, to see if it was still locked — somehow thinking by magic it would not be. Oddly, though, it would be a disappointment if it was unlocked.

The jail experience is one of constant redundancy and routine. I stopped counting the number of times my hands were cuffed and uncuffed. I learned to accept the ankle shackles as the way things are going to be. But also, you find that you yearn to be cuffed, as a proxy to just interact. When the jailer leaves, he closes the door behind him. You are there on your own, in a mental solitude that is just a controlling as a physical confinement in solitary. Your mind wanders, and then in time you begin this odd sense of bonding with your jailer. He holds all the keys, all the power, and all the options.

My experience was at times unpleasant, gripping, soul-searching and frustrating. I learned that doing time means that time moves very slowly.

Your actions, your choices, or decisions not to decide are all in front of you. You make your prison. You realize that you think you are own person when you go in, but in the end you understand that you are just something to be counted, controlled. You are just a number.

 

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Metal would like to thank the inmate for sharing this information and picture!

Jimmy gets chained in a solitary confinement cell

In this video from Serious Male Bondage, Jimmy couldn’t move at all. He was connected tightly in all four directions using metal shackles, metal waist belt and metal collar. The solitary confinement cell is 5-foot-by-5-foot and has anchor points all over the walls, so they were able to attach and tighten the chains in all four directions.

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See the video at Serious Male Bondage

Title: TURNBUCKLE BONDAGE WITH JIMMY USMC

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Max Cameron becomes a prison bitch to Officer Trenton Ducati

In this video from Bound Gods, Max Cameron has one day left in prison before going on parole, and Officer Trenton Ducati makes sure to give the parolee a proper send off. The title of this video is “Prison Punk Scared Straight by Perverted Officer Ducati.”

Prison Punk Scared Straight by Perverted Officer Ducati

Officer Ducati puts Max over his knee and spanks him for every day he has spent in prison. He then pulls Max’s face down to his lap, and has him polish Trenton’s meaty cock. Officer Ducati suspends Max and brutally flogs him. Max takes the flogger like a good prison bitch, so Officer Ducati presses him against the cell bars and starts binding his arms and legs with belts. The belts hold Max to the cell while Officer Ducati mummifies him. Officer Ducati then fills Max’s cock with different electric devices. Officer Ducati sends electricity through Max’s most sensitive areas until Max is begging to cum. Officer Ducati then rips Max off the cell wall and throws him onto the prison bed, where he sticks his hard cock up Max’s tight ass. Trenton makes sure Max knows that no matter where he is, he will always be a prison bitch to Officer Ducati, and his gaping hole will be indisputable proof. Trenton fucks Max’s ass until he can’t take it any longer and shoots his cum all over Max’s wet tongue. Max spends his final moments before becoming a free man blowing his sticky load all over himself.

The Hard Goodbye Max Cameron

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What the Fuck? – Part 1

By convict 975468

Eventually I woke up. I didn’t want to. Sleep was so nice and comfortable. I kept luxuriating in it, easing back into it. It was so nice. I did wake up, but slowly and reluctantly.

It was very dark, I couldn’t see. I lay there cozy, lazy. I was lying on my side. I slowly turned over. Far above me, I saw a skylight showing ambient light. That was nice.

I moved again. Something was dragging my right ankle. Something was wrapped around it. I was naked. That was nice. Everything was nice.

Slowly, slowly I began to think. There were no covers. I don’t have a skylight!

With a start, I sat up. “Where am I?”

I couldn’t see in the dark. I felt around, and realized that I was sitting on a mattress. I pulled my right foot toward me, and felt my ankle. There was a shackle attached to my ankle, and a chain!

What the fuck!

Continue reading What the Fuck? – Part 1