Could you spend 30 days in a completely dark room? I know many Metalbond readers would jump at the chance, even without a cash payoff at the end!
According to this article, two poker players placed a bet about this in real life!
Thanks to Metalbond reader Phil for passing this along. He says it wasn’t widely reported in the U.S., outside of the poker player media.
Somebody absolutely MUST write a story based on this for the Prison Library!
By ty dehner
At times, the day passed quickly and at other times it passed oh so slowly. As the day went on, I wanted to be released more and more. It was getting harder for my cock to get harder, and the electro only seemed to be more intense each time. My breathing was labored in the hood, being gagged with the piss-soaked sock and the duct tape keeping it in. Even though the piss kept my mouth moist, my throat was getting scratchy because of the moaning and screaming I would do as the electro reach the high frequencies.
I was sweating in the heavy leather I was strapped into, but the hood kept my nose filled with the smell of leather. It was diabolical what Jonas had done to me. I had shot my load over and over, probably six or seven times. I lost count, just like I didn’t know the time of day or even where I was kept.
I didn’t know when Jonas or Max might return.
As I enjoyed the rest, I tried to get into things to that I could get hard and shoot another load. Another round started, and like the others before it was random and I didn’t know the extent of suffering I was going to endure. After a while I was able to get hard, as I felt the tightness of the bondage I was in. Things were building again, and as I was getting hard I started to lift my head. Quickly it was pushed down, and I felt something on the sides and top that kept my head from moving.
By ty dehner
It took a while but eventually the guys started showing up and needing to use the urinals. I think most were afraid to use an object like me, so it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Eventually a few guys did use me, one got off on kicking my balls and I ended up choking on his piss. Another poured his beer down the spout and into me. That started to give me a slight buzz. Sometimes a few guys must have been in line as the piss was flowing constantly, other times it was a long time between my use.
Eventually, I felt a pat on my head, and I heard Jonas voice. He let me know that I have been locked up as the urinal for 4 hours. He was going to release me so that I could enjoy some of the gathering. He mentioned it was a good crowd and he thought I would enjoy seeing all the guys in their gear. Slowly he undid the restraints and then removed the tape from the eyes of the hood. He helped me stand and all the sweat and piss in the suit ran into the boots. He then removed the straightjacket. I motioned my head wondering if he was going to remove the hood.
By Atlanta Stud
Morning couldn’t arrive fast enough for me. I wanted out of the cuffs that held me to the bed post and into the kitchen for some coffee and a plate of eggs and bacon, that’s all I could think about. But alas, I was on hold until Dave got back from fetching Brody out of his room.
“OK Army boy let’s get you out of the rack and here’s the key to the cock cage. I’ll let you do the honors. Once you’re done, you’ll be released from the transport set, I want you on your knees with your hands behind your head while I lock the leg cuffs on. Your gear for the next 24 hours will be the fatigues, boots and leg cuffs. No shirt. If I don’t have any trouble with you, I won’t put you in handcuffs, but I promise you that I’ll snap ’em on in a heartbeat if necessary.”
Dave returned with a shirtless Brody, his dog tags resting between his hot pecs and the rattling leg cuff chains in tow; both of them now at the foot of the bed just looking at me like I was an animal snared in a net.
“Well, what should we do with this one?” Dave asked Brody. It wasn’t so much a question being asked to Brody as it was a statement as to what they were going to do with me. Brody looked at Dave, first with a hint of a puzzled look on his face that quickly turned into an evil grin. I’ve seen that look on him before, and I instantly got a chill up my spine.
By CREUSS
Part 1
I have been serving the Foreign Legion for 7 years, aged 17 to 24. After a couple of years of Service I was a Brigadier Chef, the equivalent of a Corporal. With a couple of mates, Legionnaire or Lance corporal or Corporal, we used to have a night leave at times, and we were enjoying spending our free evening in a Café by the old Roman Theatre. Place was quiet and the owner was rather friendly, as were customers.
When there, we used to have a quiet table at the rear of the café, rather cut from the rest of the crowd. When we were 3 or 4 we used to have at least one row each paying for some beer, so we could have four beers each in one evening, often double of this amount!
You know that legionnaires are not allowed to wear casual clothes at any time when in their first contract. So every time we were having a leave we had to leave the barracks in “tenue de sortie,” our equivalent of number 2 dress. We were not allowed to be outside of the barracks on a leave in combats, too.
One night I was with two of my mates, Legionnaire Mike T., an Englishman, and Brigadier Gary S., a Scot. They were a little it older than me, not much, but still. I was 19 and half myself, just back from the NCO school and to become a Marechal des Logis soon, the cavalry equivalent of a Sergeant!
By TheBadOne
Before he leaves, Trevor locks the end of my armbinder to a ring on the floor, then shackles my legs together, and locks those to the ring too. He walks out wordlessly, leaving me in a puddle of his piss, moaning uncontrollably as I lay on my side in a strict hogtie. And then nobody else comes. I don’t hear anything except a drip of water from somewhere, echoing loudly into the space I’m in.
I think back to my lengthy sleepsack scene with Master Shephard. He told me that he was leaving me plenty of slack so that I could last, but I even thought that was tight. Now I realize that if this is the standard for tight bondage, the amount of wiggle room I had that night was in fact, comparative freedom. I long for it, for even the tiniest amount of purchase, for the ability to flex my arms even slightly, to be able to make any sound at all other than a pathetic, gagging, drooly sob.
As the minutes pass and my eyes continue to adjust to the dim light, I suddenly realize that there’s a mirror on the ceiling above me. I look up at it and see the gimp I’ve been turned into. Even alone, I’m humiliated. Vega was right, I thought I was some kind of a hot-shot, and I got put in my place.
