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7 Days in Berlin – Part 04

By Takeo

Day 1 – Tuesday – With my Sir

I have no choice but to wait in this position. Anyone who has ever tried something similar knows that being like this on your knees, sitting on your feet, doesn’t look difficult from the outside, but is far from obvious when you’re strapped in and can only move a little. Fortunately, my rangers are rigid enough that I can sit on my heels without mobilizing the flexibility of my ankles too much. On the other hand, this also means that the pressure on my knees is greater, and Franz was careful not to provide any soft support, so I’m kneeling on the concrete floor.

As time goes by, I am surprised by the effectiveness – despite the simplicity – of the bondage. I am not constrained in the sense that my movements aren’t totally hindered as they were previously when I was in the cage, but the chains linked behind my back keep my arms in a fairly strict upright position, and prevent me from standing up or leaning forward. My only means of relieving the strain on my bonds would be to flip over onto my side on the floor, but I want to hold this position so that Flo finds me presentable, and not stranded on the floor like a worm.

Continue reading 7 Days in Berlin – Part 04

Florida Trap – Part 03

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

Sgt Stiles drove me off into the Florida Panhandle pine forests. I don’t know if we drove for five minutes or fifty. I must have nodded off a few times. Sgt Stiles didn’t say a word to me. I guess I was either too tired from working all day or I was unconsciously following his advice to keep my mouth shut. I was stuck, handcuffed in the back of the van. From time to time I’d get distracted by the back of Sgt. Stiles head. His high and tight haircut was so hot, so masculine.

We got to the camp as it was just starting to get dark. Not much to see. A clearing in the forest out in the middle of nowhere. The camp was eight canvas tents, and some plywood shacks surrounded by rows of barbed wire. The kind you see on the top of fences at prisons. There were a few poles with lights and one gate.

A guard opened the gate. We drove in and Sgt. Stiles pulled up to one of the plywood shacks. He shut off the engine, got out and came over and opened the side door. “Get out, prisoner,” he said. I got out and tried to stretch my arms. I was still handcuffed behind my back. “Go wait at the door for me, face the building, keep quiet,” Sgt Stiles said. I did what he said.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 03