By Construction Worker
Stuck again.
It seemed like EXACTLY what I wanted…. what I fantasized about. Now all I can do is calm myself to keep the heat from building and becoming suffocating. But if I do that, I lose the hormones that allow me to withstand being locked in with no say on when I get out.
By Rubber Dog
His Master brought the straitjacket back from the far end of the playroom where it had been stored with some of the other larger pieces of restraint he often used; his boy laid out on the table was still trying to keep still but had taken to gently and ever so slightly pushing his butt down into the padding and thereby gaining some leverage with the plug.
He let him do this for a moment or two until the slave started to moan and then firmly slapped the slave’s dick through the restraints. This elicited what would have been a yelp and a well-caught instinctive attempt to move his hands to his dick’s protection. He would have been disappointed if the boy hadn’t caught this reflex and he smiled to himself that already the boy was learning.
Getting the jacket on was not as difficult as it sometimes was when he’d gotten slaves to this point of the storage process; occasionally they had already decided they wanted out and wrestling the straitjacket onto them took time and considerable effort. In fact the last time that had happened had made him rethink just how much of the impending captivity he let the slaves see before beginning the encasement. Certainly the desperate struggling and fight for freedom had its plus points and he still wasn’t sure if he should hood a victim early on since this deprived them of a view of the box up-close, and deprived him of seeing their reaction to it.
By Rubber Dog
Cold, and with a desperate panic, the boy jolted back awake. He heard his breath, course ragged breaths. Darkness. Cold and damp. A hard floor, his body aching from laying on it. His skin was cold. He propped himself up with his arms, his hands feeling a tiled floor, he turned his head side to side. Looking. Nothing. Panicked. Where was he? He’d been knocked out, but where was he now?
Why did he feel so cold? He moved one hand to his jeans pocket, but just hit skin. He was naked. Cold and naked laying on a hard tiled floor, in complete darkness, his head still spinning and clouded from whatever had been on the rag.
He sat up, drew his knees to his chin and pulled his feet in. Slowly he crept backwards, inching towards something he could lean against. He found a wall, and carefully propped himself against it, getting himself used to the glassy chill of it down his naked back. Gingerly he pulled his feet in further and wrapped his arms around his knees, more for safety now than anything else.
By Rubber Dog
Part One – Knock, Knock
Mark stood in front of the door. Number 34, it said, looked like the right place, it was certainly the right road, it just didn’t look like anything special. Just someone’s house on an ordinary road. The only thing he’d noticed about it was the motorbike parked outside which he’d seen as soon as he’d turned the corner at the top of the road and started checking the house numbers.
Check out these pictures from Metalbond reader Mike of a confinement box built by Redneck Mark:
Redneck Mark (who goes by Bootsncamo on Recon) also built my cage.
Mike says,
Dear Metal,
I notice you have been featuring some confinement boxes on your site. Here is the one Redneck Mark made for me. The large flange on the bottom of the door is for an electromagnet lock. It also can be locked both from the inside and outside with a padlock.
—Mike
Thank for the pics and info, Mike!
This picture has been making the rounds on various sites lately. I have no idea of the original source.
If anyone knows where this is or who built it, please let me know!
By PFC Pflege
Part 1
I met Mark through friends of mine. He was 19 years old; I was 28. It was the summer that everyone was gin-rummy mad, and played whenever we could. Most of the guys were in their early twenties, and didn’t have a place of their own yet, or, if they did, it was a small apartment. Since I had just bought a house, it was natural that a lot of the games were played there. We’d have 6 or 8 guys playing, sometimes more; none of us had a lot of money, so the stakes were real low. On the weekends, if the fever was on, we sometimes played all night, nodding over the cards as the light of early dawn filled the rooms.
Check out the pictures that leatherdog sent:
