Tag Archives: Real Working Men

Side Effects – Chapter 4

By GratDelay

male BDSM storiesWhile I was trying to cool off mentally, Adin went to the kitchen and came back with the water bottle refilled. He tipped it up for me and I guzzle a bunch. I had been sweating like crazy. I looked over and saw that my sofa cushions would be going to the cleaners soon. It was a small price to pay for the experience I was having. I wanted to talk with Adin about the drug experience itself, but first I had to pee. I told Adin this, hoping he might let me out of the straitjacket, but he just said, “Down the hall to the left,” so I squared my shoulders and embarked on a rite of passage of sorts.

The chastity belt actually helped with this, directing the stream downward. Unfortunately, I couldn’t wipe any remainder dribbling from the drainage holes. I did a little twerk over the toilet, hoping to shake most of it off, then went back to the living room.

Adin was sifting through my other toys. “Looking for something for you to wear?” I asked.

“As if.”

He picked up a pecker-gag.

“No, Adin, I want to talk to you.”

He paced towards me, gag raised. I backed up a step, “Just wait, please. I love that gag, but can we talk some more first?”

Continue reading Side Effects – Chapter 4

A Rubberboi on the Farm – Chapter 10

By R8080

He was sitting at the dining table.

Alex stepped into the mudroom and saw Him waiting in the next room. He had changed, his worksuit was hanging up on one of the pegs now, next to Alex’s own. Alex pulled off the black rubber boots he had used to cross the yard quietly and placed them beneath his suit.

His Master said nothing.

Dropping to his hands and knees, Alex crawled slowly across the floor of the kitchen towards his Master.

He was wearing leather breeches again. Light gray, with black piping down the sides. The inside was a darker shade and only served to highlight His powerful legs.

Alex reached for His boot, but his Master patted his knee instead. Slowly getting to his feet, Alex sat gingerly in his Master’s lap.

Continue reading A Rubberboi on the Farm – Chapter 10

The Bet – Chapter 01

By lthr_jock

As I park my BMW in the quiet street, I’m feeling nervous. I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m not used to this queasy roil in the pit of my empty stomach. I look up at the house I’m visiting and part of me wants to turn around and drive home – and it’s a big part. But I made a deal, and I don’t back out of deals. But this deal is such a tough one. I lean back in the leather seat and close my eyes. What was I thinking? How did I get myself into this stupid position? I think back to yesterday evening – it all started so normally.

I look at myself in the mirror before getting dressed to head out to Backstreet. I’m 40 now and while I’m not as fit as I was when I was 25, I’m still muscled and give the gym bunnies a run for their money when I hit the weights – which is most days. At 6ft2” I’m a natural top and I have the rugged face that comes from my Polish heritage. My black hair is greying and I keep it short – No 1 crop at the sides and longer on top. I have a thick moustache and neat goatee and am hairy most everywhere else. Everything about me screams “Top” which makes life very easy indeed as that’s the role I love to play. I grin as I imagine what everyone else at the bank would say if they saw what their manager gets up to in his free time. I run my hands through my hair, using some gel to spike it in place and then I get ready to head out.

Continue reading The Bet – Chapter 01

Silver and Gold

By Cutieboy90

Cutieboy90My name is Todd. Todd Silver. My mate and I met many years ago, when we started working at the copper mine. His name is Ryan Gold, and he’s the cutest, sweetest ginger you could ever imagine. Anyway, we fell in love very quickly, and though we had to stay discreet for our safety, we did exchange vows. We love each other so much. I even went from being a totally dominant, top stud to being a completely versatile switch, but just for him.

It all began on his birthday. I had given him a new set of leather bondage cuffs, a stainless steel cock ring, and a leather muzzle. He was so excited, but instead of putting them on, he said to me: “Todd? I know it’s different from usual, but… Tonight, I would like to tie you up, and fuck you.”

I was a little surprised, but not opposed. So, I said “Absolutely. I love you. Happy Bir-mmmmpph!!” Cut off as he buckled the muzzle over my face.. Next, he strapped me down to our bed on my back, my large, stiff cock pointing to the ceiling. He had to squeeze my balls to make me soft so he could put the metal cock ring on. But soon enough, I was ready for him.

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Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 17

By PredicamentBondage

[[WARNING: This story — and the many chapters that precede it — feature descriptions of extreme elements that some readers might find objectionable. Continue reading at your own risk.]]

Training a sex slave typically takes six months or so. The first three months are spent breaking the subject down, removing all sense of self-worth, taking it to the edge of despair, to create a hollow shell, which can then be moulded into an obedient, compliant servant.

The second three months are spent fashioning the slave’s skill set to the potential owner’s requirements. As the clients vet their purchases, physically, before we even start phase one, when we’re ready to start sex training we can move forward with confidence knowing that the customer will happily accept the product upon completion. We can, therefore, immediately start tailoring the slave to the client’s sexual needs.

These needs are massively diverse, ranging from body modifications, castration, deep-throat training, arse-hole training, foreplay skills, fucking stamina, pain endurance, verbal skills, and so on, and on, and on.

In previous chapters, I’ve explained some of the training techniques employed during the first three months of a slave’s life at the centre. I guess I should also give some insight into how we train our stock sexually.

Continue reading Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 17

The Pit and the Pendulum

By Edgar Allan Poe

Impia tortorum longos hic turba furors

Sanguinis innocui, non satiata, aluit.

Sospite nunc patria, fracto nunc funeris antro,

Mors ubi dira fuit vita salusque patent.

[Quatrain composed for the gates of a market to be erected upon the site of the Jacobin Club House at Paris.]

I WAS sick — sick unto death with that long agony; and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me. The sentence — the dread sentence of death — was the last of distinct accentuation which reached my ears. After that, the sound of the inquisitorial voices seemed merged in one dreamy indeterminate hum. It conveyed to my soul the idea of revolution — perhaps from its association in fancy with the burr of a mill wheel. This only for a brief period; for presently I heard no more. Yet, for a while, I saw; but with how terrible an exaggeration! I saw the lips of the black-robed judges. They appeared to me white — whiter than the sheet upon which I trace these words — and thin even to grotesqueness; thin with the intensity of their expression of firmness — of immoveable resolution — of stern contempt of human torture. I saw that the decrees of what to me was Fate, were still issuing from those lips. I saw them writhe with a deadly locution. I saw them fashion the syllables of my name; and I shuddered because no sound succeeded. I saw, too, for a few moments of delirious horror, the soft and nearly imperceptible waving of the sable draperies which enwrapped the walls of the apartment. And then my vision fell upon the seven tall candles upon the table. At first they wore the aspect of charity, and seemed white and slender angels who would save me; but then, all at once, there came a most deadly nausea over my spirit, and I felt every fibre in my frame thrill as if I had touched the wire of a galvanic battery, while the angel forms became meaningless spectres, with heads of flame, and I saw that from them there would be no help. And then there stole into my fancy, like a rich musical note, the thought of what sweet rest there must be in the grave. The thought came gently and stealthily, and it seemed long before it attained full appreciation; but just as my spirit came at length properly to feel and entertain it, the figures of the judges vanished, as if magically, from before me; the tall candles sank into nothingness; their flames went out utterly; the blackness of darkness supervened; all sensations appeared swallowed up in a mad rushing descent as of the soul into Hades. Then silence, and stillness, night were the universe.

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Leather Lover Lunatic Asylum

By Mister-Spartan

Ryan and Walt were in bed. Ryan was tightly enclosed in his favorite leather straitjacket, plus leather pants. His cock, as usual, was in chastity. Walt was alongside, his arms around Ryan.

“You’ll be gone for a whole month? What am I going to do during all that time?”

“I’ve thought about that. There’s this place that you can stay at called the ‘Leather Lover Lunatic Asylum.’ You’ll be able to get your leather fetish satisfied while they keep you secure, feeding you, bathing you, taking care of all your needs. They call it a ‘lunatic asylum’ not because it is an official one, but because their guests are kept in leather straitjackets. It should suit you perfectly.”

Ryan thought about it. It sounded like just what he would want. He finally smiled and said, “You’re right. It won’t be the same without you, but it sounds like the next best thing. You know what I like. Thank you.” The two kissed and turned over to go to sleep.

When it came time for Walt to leave on his business trip, he called the facility. In a couple of hours, a white van drove up. Two beefy guys got out that were dressed in all white, looking just like attendants at a mental facility. They brought along a gurney that had a lot of straps attached to it, as well as a pile of black leather gear lying on top of it.

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