Tag Archives: Macho Factory

Story

Lost No More – Part 02

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By OKLASH

At some point, is it ten minutes or five hours, I return to gaze upon the scene. You are slumped in suspension, chin down near your chest. Low sobs and moans emanate from your soul in a cacophony of confusion and pain and despair. I take a moment to savor the sight and sounds.

I step around you, reaching for the coiled single tail that’s been hanging in your view. The thick leather handle feels right and proper in my fist and I resolve to feel it more, that we will do this more. I slide my open palm down your muscled back and raise it to my nose as you flex your shoulders. Your sweat is different when I’m hurting you, it drenches your body in a cocktail of pain and fear. I breathe in your pheromones and this fuel explodes the spark within me.

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Story

The Lock-In – Part 05

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By Cuffed Locked

I blinked awake to the glare of daylight flooding the basement. My arms were still cuffed behind me, the collar snug at my throat, and exhaustion felt like liquid in every muscle. My mind spun, trying to make sense of time again, when I heard the stairs creak. Caleb and Derek appeared at the top — effortlessly composed, as if they’d just stepped out of an ad for guys who never lose control. Caleb carried a fresh coffee, hair neatly styled and shirt crisp. Derek moved with an athlete’s ease, wearing a clean hoodie and joggers, smirking like he’d never been anywhere but in control. They didn’t rush.

Instead, Caleb lingered at the top step for a moment and said, soft, amused: “Nice spread.” He didn’t need to clarify. My posture, the cuffs, even the dull ache from the collar — they all spoke his language. I had asked for this.

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Story

The Jougs

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

A note from Art: “Here is a short story, soaked in wine, rain, shame, and steel”:

I dinnae remember fallin’ asleep in the alley, but I surely woke up there — flat on my back, cheek pressed to wet stone, and a mouth like I’d been suckin’ on ashes all night.

The bottle was still clutched in my fist — half-empty and warm from my own body. Cheap red wine, the kind that burns more comin’ up than it does goin’ down. The kind that gets you noticed.

And noticed, I was.

I heard him before I saw him — the scrape of leather soles and the hollow clomp of boots with purpose. Then his shadow stretched long over me like a cross at sunset.

I blinked up into his face — his face — that square jaw framed by the kind of gray muttonchops that only grew on men who feared neither sin nor storm. His eyes were cold. Steel blue. Judgmental.

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Story

It started with Mitts – Part 19-1

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By Bondagegimp

Liberation?

While Bob was putting Jad in chains, Doggy sat there with his eyes wide open, watching, fascinated, what was happening. It was hard to tell what was going on inside him. Now that Bob is finished with Jad for the time being, Doggy comes crawling up, apparently wanting to get closer to Jad. He tries in vain to get onto the bed. The sight of him helplessly trying with his stumps is pathetic and somehow hot at the same time.

Bob notices him too and lifts him onto the bed, where Doggy immediately starts rubbing his rubberized head against Jad. Bob goes over to a shelf, then to Doggy, takes off the muzzle and puts a ring gag in his mouth instead, securing it with a small lock behind his head. Doggy can no longer close his mouth, but he can use his tongue. He seemed to have been waiting for this. Bob recognized it well again. Doggy immediately starts licking Jad in his rubber suit. He greedily glides his tongue over Jad’s athletic body, following every line of his muscles. He seems to have longed for this for a long time. Of course, Jad always kept him at a distance and Doggy could only yearn for him from a distance.

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Story

It started with Mitts –Part 10

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By bondagegimp

In the office

How many days have passed since the party? 4? 5? It’s not easy to keep track when you spend a lot of time in masks or cells that don’t let in daylight. I wonder if Bob is doing this on purpose? Does he want me to lose control, to lose track of the days?

Today I’m allowed to see something again, although not completely freely. I’m wearing a rubber mask that, instead of proper eye openings, has several small holes in front of my eyes, a bit as if someone had randomly punched about 10 holes in front of each eye. Daylight comes in, which is pleasant. And I can see something, which is also an improvement compared to some of the last few days. But it’s difficult to focus. Sometimes my eye looks through one hole, then the other. It’s usually easier to close one eye and look through one hole with just one eye. But that’s tiring, and only a small section, a small tunnel. Somehow oppressive. So I look with both eyes, without focusing.

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Story

Look at Me, slave

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By boyryan54

Boyryan54I am trembling. My shoulders and back are aching, and my knees screaming from the stress position. Hunched over in the cage, arms behind my back in a rubber arm binder, pulled up and attached to the top of the cage. The top of my muzzle is secured to the top front of the cage by what I am guessing is some rope, ensuring my body leans forward. My legs folded on themselves, secured with thick rubber belts over my rubbered body.

I have been mewing and mumbling into the gag in my mouth, but not sure how much is being heard due to the muzzle over my hooded head. The blindfold and ear plugs ensuring all my senses are heightened, and I moan as I feel a bead of sweat roll down by back between the rubber and my skin.

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Story

Consequences of Failure – Part 04

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By BondageChallengeGames

(Dustin’s POV)

I sat on the table, once again restrained. Once again waiting, half afraid and half turned-on, to see what Ted had planned for me.

He’d let me use the bathroom before tying me up. I assumed this was both a mercy and a warning for how long I was about to be bound.

He bound my wrists with thick leather wrist cuffs, then padlocked them together behind my back. He wrapped a belt around my chest, pinning my arms to my side. He used thick ropes to tie my legs at multiple points to the table. He locked my ankles in cuffs and locked those cuffs to the legs of the table.

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Story

My Pal Jock and the Public Safety Video

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By Hunter Perez

It was Friday at one in the afternoon and I was in my kitchen making a pot of coffee when someone began knocking on my front door to the melody of “Kung Fu Fighting.” There was only one guy who make himself known in that manner.

“Come on in, Jock,” I declared as I opened the door.

Jock raced in with a great smile on his face, wrapped his large muscular arms around me and hoisted me high. “Bingo, baby, I just got my first contract for my new video production business. And it’s a government contract, too, so I’ll be making a ton of money.”

Jock swung me around in a bear hug, perhaps not realizing the depth of his strength. “Jock, you’re squeezing the air out of my lungs. Put me down and I’ll make you some coffee.”

Jock released me and after a few deep breaths I felt better. He sat at the kitchen table, happier than I had seen him in the longest time.

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