Jaz opened his eyes, or at least thought he did. It made no difference to what he saw. The soft, cushioned leather blindfold stopped even the merest chink of light from penetrating his darkness. He felt around him as far as he was able to, being restrained in a somewhat loose spread eagle by wrists and ankles to the bondage bed with just enough wriggle room to prevent cramp setting in.
The restraints were expensive leather ones with the same sort of cushioning on their inside which held you tight without pinching or chafing, a bit like having four strong, warm hands holding you in position. He moved slightly and felt the contrast of the cool rubber surface of the bondage table as opposed to the hot sweaty area his body had made throughout last night.
The night? Was it now really morning? Jaz had no way of telling. Even without the blindfold the playroom could be pitch dark being, as it was, ten feet below the living room floor, the only daylight coming into it from the top of the stairs if someone had left the hall door ajar. He had slept, but for how long? They had played for what seemed like hours and hours, he and Harrison. H, as he liked to be called, had certainly demonstrated his expertise during that time. Jaz saw nothing and could protest little, the inflatable pecker gag putting paid to conversation that was more than a squeal, moan or swift noisy exhalation of breath.
Continue reading Jaz and H
“U-ughhhh…” I groaned softly through my ballgag as I blinked my eyes open. My neck had a crick, and my jaw ached terribly.
“Hey bud,” a deep voice spoke from above me.
“Huuuuhh…?” I looked up at the handsome face of my partner, Jake. He smiled warmly as he stroked my face.
“Yeah, you fell asleep there for a bit,” he said. I tried to stretch, but quickly found I was still in bondage. My hands were handcuffed to a chain around my waist, and my legs were cuffed and drawn up to the belly chain as well, essentially pigtying me.
“You’re so cute when you sleep,” Jake hugged me closer and nuzzled the top of my head. “I’ve missed this.” I nodded in agreement, nuzzling into his broad, muscular chest.
Jake was still wearing his uniform, boots and all. He liked wearing his uniform at least as much I liked seeing him wear it. Not only for the kink reasons, but personal too.
Continue reading My Marine
~ Chapter 6 ~
Day Two –
I wake up barely being able to move. Even getting dressed in jeans and the red and black shirt that Gunnerson told me I had to wear today, “So you’ll be more noticeable when we “scarecrow” ya tomorrow, Bo”, was all I could do.
I grab a fast coffee and a banana before picking up my gym bag, and heading out the door to the driveway. By my phone it’s 5:55, but Moore, with one of the other guys I met when I was leaving the “Farm” yesterday afternoon, was already there. I had learned he was Sergeant Sutherland by checking out the various sections of “The Country Boy Punishment Club” website last evening. I had been able to view not only my own punishments from the day, but also a lot of shit the other “Recruits” were being put through, ranging from a number of different tortures, but also being put through rigorous PT, and running several different obstacle courses set up to be even tougher than any of the Tough Mudder courses I’d seen. They were all covered in muck by the time they made it to the end of the courses, IF they made it all the way through these sadistically designed obstacle courses, at all.
Continue reading Displayed – Part 02
After giving orders all day, executive Rocky Vallarta takes a turn on having his sex slave Drew Dixon worship and obey him. Mr. Vallarta has complete control over Drew, who’s happy to obey and satisfy his master’s every command and need.
See the video HERE
VIDEO TITLE: Worship
STARRING: Rocky Vallarta & Drew Dixon
RELEASE DATE: October 30, 2020
TAGS: Ass Rimming, Condom-Free, Bareback, Hardcore, Rough, Sheer Shocks, Gagged, Suit Sex
Part 2 – “The Move”
James did not leave his house for three days. All he would do was eat simple microwavable meals he had delivered to his house a while back and simply roleplay as a slave.
He would turn up his speakers to play some music, while knelt in a corner of the carpet, gagged, plugged and with his hands behind his back.
He would imagine himself at a party. A chic cocktail party where everyone was rich enough to buy the high fashion clothes they were wearing on a whim.
Maybe rich enough to buy him too, which might fit the colour palette of some elegant flooring scheme of walnut and a tan wool carpet.
Of course, he would have to stay off of the carpet. Realizing this, he moved off onto the hard floor.
Bad slave, he reprimanded himself.
He closed his eyes.
What would this party look like?
The lights were dimmed and there was mood lighting.
Continue reading One Year – Part 02
By Joshua Ryan
So, the way it happened, it was Saturday, and I was just comin outta the library, when I saw him! They’d brought him into town to do some grunt work for that manager of Mr. Hamilton’s, the gay one, and the workie that drove Mr. Hamilton’s cars. But those guys were off doin something and Butch came back to the car and there he was, leaning against the side, right next to the HAMILTON FARMS placard, waiting for them to show up. All alone! And SO hot! And just waiting for me!
So naturally, I made a total fool out of myself, just standing there with my mouth open, staring at him! Because he was SO hot! He looked exactly the way I wanted to look. He was wearing this great workie suit — which I knew you’re not supposed to like, but maybe that’s why I liked it, cuz people drive past a workie and they say, oh, ugh, look at that horrible suit, I’m glad I’m not a clown like that and I have to wear a clown suit. But that just means they can’t see how big and tough it makes you look, especially if you’ve got muscles that are making the suit be how it’s meant to be! Which is what Butch had.
Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 23
Looking around my cell (as much as my posture collar permits), I see several chains hanging down from the ceiling, several eyebolts imbedded in the walls, the floor is dirt, and the air is hot and stifling. I am thirsty. The ball gag is getting unbearable. I’ve been here for a while, maybe 2 hours. I can’t move around much with my collar chained to the wall. I have to piss, and my arms cuffed behind my back are beginning to hurt.
I hear some noises outside my cell, rattling chains and heavy boots stomping along, someone shouting “move it fags” and a few heavy doors slamming and then the sounds of a key unlocking my cell. The door opens and a leather-clad and muzzled prisoner is shoved inside followed by 2 skinheads, one holding the chain locked to the leather man’s posture collar, the other holding what looks like a remote control box.
“Halt Fag” the one holding the box commands, and he immediately stops. The skinhead looks over at me. “Take a good look you sorry faggot, this is your immediate future.”
Continue reading Journal to Hell – Part 02