On a trip to Washington, DC, earlier this year I visited the National Museum of African American History and Culture. One of the items on display was an orange prison jumpsuit worn by the actor Mike Colter, who plays the title character in Marvel’s “Luke Cage” series. This picture is from Episode 104 (“Step in the Arena”). He also wore the jumpsuit in Marvel’s “The Defenders” Episode 101 (“The H Word”).
To see pictures and more information about the jumpsuit itself, click here
At Bound Gods, no one messes with prisoner Dominic Pacifico, so bunkmate Max Adonis submits! Dominic now owns Max: flogging, spanking, rough blow jobs, electro-torment, bondage and a vicious fucking are prison hazing.
See VIDEO of this shoot here
See the latest from Bound Gods here
Naked Kombat gay wrestling here
See all the KinkMen male BDSM channels here
If you are looking for some high-quality, multi-part male bondage fiction, be sure to check out these stories — that is, if you have not done so already:
ALL of these stories are serialized, and they all link to multiple other stories by the same authors on an infinite loop. So be forewarned that if you click on one of these stories and you get hooked, you might be “trapped” all day or all weekend!
As always when you are reading stories in the Metalbond Prison Library, for best results it is highly recommended that you be wearing some form of physical restraint, such as a set of leg irons, or handcuffs, or a chastity device, or a collar — or that you have someone else locked up in something! Enjoy your reading, and please let me know which of these stories is your favorite!
By Joshua Ryan
“Just do what I told you,” 8363 said. “Do what I did. It worked for me. They’ll never throw me out of here.”
That’s what I was thinking about while Officer Yan marched me across the Parade Ground to the Examination Rooms, which were part of the Classroom Building. It was February; snow was falling; I’d been in prison for almost a year. I was having my one-year Custodial Review, which would be conducted by an officer in one of the Rooms. I repeated to myself the answers that 8363 had given me. Then I repeated them again, until I was sure I’d got them right. They worked for him; they’d work for me. There was no difference between us.
My assigned officer was Lieutenant Connors. In the corridor, I waited in line, cuffed and shackled, behind the five other criminals waiting to see him. One by one they went in and came out. A couple were crying. The rest appeared stoic. Or indifferent, fated. But in a situation like that, restraints need to be applied to everyone. Officers can never predict when a criminal may do something unfortunate. Then I heard “G023104411!”, and I entered the office.
By Joshua Ryan
8363 . . . . the guy in Bunk 14. I found myself maneuvering to get beside him in the shower, just for a few seconds to look at his plump, well muscled ass. I tried to get the seat next to him at chow, just to feel his arm touching my arm through our uniforms. In the factory I spent every extra second I could spare from my needle looking up the line of backs bent over their machines to watch his back moving rhythmically beneath its stripes. At night I lay next to him, feet to head, and thought about what it would be like if I caressed his naked head with my naked toes and he wriggled across the few inches of bunk-frame and climbed in with me. In dreams I told him, “You are about to be fucked! Assume the position!”
Dreams vs. realities . . . . If we were on the Outside, I’d do the usual: take him to Bleue, invite him to my place for drinks, become insistent if he noted that the hour was late . . . . But in prison, I was no better than he was; I couldn’t impress him with my bald head, my convict uniform, or my criminal record. And he evaded all my cues. He saw how hot I was for him, but he treated it as a fact he didn’t need to do anything about–a fact of life, like the walls and bars.
By Joshua Ryan
We met at La Bête Bleue, which was a couple miles from my house. He lived in Paris, but he didn’t mind traveling. And after all, he was my guest; I’d be paying. I was sure he knew that Bête Bleue wasn’t in the price range of a prison employee.
I got there early and had started on my cocktail when he arrived. The sound of his ass hitting the booth made it clear that he was heavier than I’d remembered him. More pounds, but apparently they’d all gone to muscle. Unlike my extra pounds. Bête Bleue is dark, but I still had to do my best, keeping my spare tire out of sight . . . .
The big smile—that was new. Not his bashful college smile—something more interesting. When you’re in business—when you’re successful in business, anyway—you’re alert to smiles that have had to be learned. So good for him, he learned it. And I can’t deny it was attractive.
By Shket36
With English-language editing by Joshua Ryan
Convict “Sanin”:
They took me back to the cell. “To the wall”, “go”, “hands”, “to the original” – commands that I already carried out automatically. I thought about my meeting with Nikolai. I’d really missed someone who knew me, who knew my true interests… And it seemed to me that Nikolai was proud of me, of how I clearly carried out all the commands of the officers…
So the time passed in thought until the evening inspection. As usual, at the command “on duty,” I stood at attention and made a report. Then they took me out of the room, put me in position with my head bent against the wall, and examined me and my cell with special care. But this would not be a normal inspection. One of the officers who searched the cell shouted that he had found a “cache”!
I was shocked: “How? Where? It can’t be so!” The senior officer immediately commanded: “Convicted Sanin. In your report you said that you do not have any prohibited items. We found a cache in your place containing a cutting object. This is a serious violation. Your reward is detention in a punishment cell for 30 days. Take him away.”
By Shket36
With English-language editing by Joshua Ryan
This is a story about adults, and for adults only.
Senya Petrov speaks:
It’s hard to remember when I became interested in the prison theme. Since childhood I liked the feeling of helplessness. I imagined myself in the place of a prisoner, a convict. One day, my godfather (he served in the police) left handcuffs at our house. This was my finest hour. It is difficult to describe the secret delight and excitement from the feeling of metal in my hands.
Time passed… school, university, work… Interest in restrictions did not disappear. Gradually I began to form my own collection of shackles, handcuffs, chains. Two years ago I came across an advertisement for the sale of real convict uniforms. I think there is no need to explain that I wasted zero time placing my order. When I received the delivery of the black suit with gray stripes of a Russian prisoner, made of coarse fabric, my hands were shaking. My adrenaline was off the charts, as was my excitement. From that time on, I began looking for prison-themed role-playing meetings.
A year or so ago — it was in mid-September— an intriguing message arrived in my inbox: “I can put you in prison temporarily.”
