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Tag Archives: locked in a box
The Purchase – Part 01
By slavebladeboi
I don’t often purchase items off the internet, which may seem a strange thing to say for the head of an IT department for a largish company but I have this thing about wanting to touch and feel the items I’m buying. Pictures just don’t do it somehow. Anyway, that’s changed somewhat. I got to the end of an 18-month project that will save the company seven figure sums over the next few years and the bonus I got was out of this world. So I blew it, well most of it, on something I’ve wanted for ages and never had the means to buy. It’s taken nearly two months from order specification to delivery and today, this morning, the crate is standing in the room downstairs waiting for me and my crowbar.
It’s a heavy wooden crate, full of those bloody awful, tennis ball sized polystyrene balls that go everywhere as soon as you look at them and take ages to clear up. But it keeps the item safe which is more important.
I stood looking at the crate and then decided to take pics of the unveiling. So not wanting a full on video I decided to take one or two shots at regular intervals. The first pieces of wood came off quite easily, together with a small avalanche of white balls.
Locked in a bondage box
The Coffin Box
When you see this, do you get more excited or scared?
See VIDEO of “The Coffin Box” plus many more extreme bondage scenarios at Men in Chains
Metal confinement box
The metal confinement box photos above were sent to the Metalbond site by Serious Male Bondage, and they were taken at the Dominion BDSM club in Los Angeles (www.dominionsm.com).
The Contract for Eternal Bondage
For those whose fantasies are on the extreme side
To see video of “The Contract for Eternal Bondage” go to Men In Chains
Also available: “Concrete Hands and Feet”
The Adventures of Pete and Gunner – Part 2
By pwnedpuppy
Getting Ready for the Move
It was late Thursday night as the train pulled into the station. my phone buzzed – it was Pete.
“you can ride up front,” He wrote. (And, yes – the you was lower-case.)
As i left the platform, i could see Pete’s truck off in the parking lot. He flashed His headlights to let me know He saw me. i scampered over quickly, able to move nimbly since i had absolutely no luggage with me.
Visiting Pete on weekends was really an exercise in minimalism. i spent most of my time at His place naked, and anything that i would be allowed to wear was stored there. All i had to bring was myself, my ID and my phone.
i got to the truck, opened the door, and saw Pete sitting in the driver’s seat in the glow of the golden interior light. He looked great as always.
Pete’s dark brown hair neat in a high and tight, with a week’s worth stubble covering the lower part of His face. His square jaw shined in the gleam of the overhead light. An unzipped black leather bike jacket hung from His big, broad shoulders, covering His torso. He had a tight black t-shirt on underneath. Wranglers hugged His bubble butt, and He was wearing those goddamn riding boots that i’ve given a tongue bath to too many times to count over the last couple years.
