Note: ‘The Roommate’ originally appeared on the RubberZone site. It is re-posted here with permission.
The command sounded so familiar. It was only Tuesday, Matt’s second day at work since the arrival of his roommate the previous Saturday, and yet it seemed as though he’d heard the command a thousand times before. Of course, he had, but recorded on all prior occasions but one, burned into his subconscious by repetitive recordings instructing Matt on the proper response to each of the many commands he could expect to hear from now on. Hour after hour had been spent by Matt, strapped down or suspended, stuffed into tight rubber bondage, his holes plugged and controlled, aware of little else but the tight rubber bondage and the voice of his new roommate, and not quite understanding the gradual impact that the repeated commands were having on his willpower.
Twenty-four hours earlier, the command had struck fear and anger in Matt’s heart and mind as he wrestled with the related instructions to shave his head, go to work and then return for more bondage abuse and storage at the end of the day. But today, the command exploded in Matt’s mind like a starter’s pistol announcing a race. Matt had already learned the previous day that his shaved head was no big deal at the refinery, and no one had even seemed bothered by the open collared shirt showing off his shaved chest, or, if anyone noticed, even the lack of underwear under his thin slacks. Matt had learned, to his great relief, that even with a shaved body and tight fitting clothing he was still as invisible as ever – a wallflower who could go about his day without attracting attention, without attracting scorn.
Continue reading The Roommate – Part 5
By ty dehner
I hung there for a while, feeling my cock soften after being so close in one of the hottest sexual times I’ve experienced. I was glad my cock was free from the steel but sure wish Austin would come back and pick up where he left off. The air was getting warm as the sun was rising in the sky. Of course, I was in darkness with the hood locked on my head and my arms were starting to ache.
Austin startled me as I felt his rough leather work gloves start to work on my cock as he was returning it to its prison of steel. I moaned in the hood and I heard him chuckle to himself. I barely hear the lock click as he grabbed my cock and balls and tugged on them to show they were his. As he tugged them I could sense his face next to my leather covered face.
“Boy I really want to fuck you, really want to fuck you. But the time isn’t right and frankly I want you to want me more. We’re going to head into the house and get some breakfast. I’ll remove your hood once your inside.”
He worked the ropes holding my arms above my head, off and let me free. Then he leads me across the dirt. Once in the house he had me sit on the cold wood floor and removed the hood. As my eyes adjusted I found I was the only one naked as Austin and his posse were in their rodeo gear eating breakfast. They looked me over and then returned to their dialog over the food. Austin went in the kitchen and came back with eggs, bacon and some fruit in a couple of dog dishes. There was another with orange juice. He ordered me to eat, which I happily did as I was damn hungry.
Continue reading Montana – Part 05
Stevie is having trouble drinking. He is in one of the pods and the water spigot is of a very extraordinary design…
The spigot is exactly 28 inches above the floor. It’s a 1.5 inch diameter pipe that protrudes from the wall by 2 inches. In order to drink, Stevie must drop onto all fours and take the pipe fully into his mouth.
There are two buttons down at floor level about one foot apart which he has to push, one with each hand.
In the wall, just above the pipe, is another button that must be depressed using his nose. When this is achieved, roughly 1 inch of pipe is implanted in his mouth.
In this position Stevie is staring straight at a small set of instructions (mounted on the wall above the nose button) that explain what he has to do in minute detail. He has successfully accomplished all but one last step so, as yet, he is still thirsty.
Continue reading Chronicles of a Slave Trader – Chapter 01
Almost 90 percent of lags go into prison with the full intention of keeping their heads down and doing their bird. They hope they’ll get early parole and can then, at leisure, plan their next crime. The screws have to identify who is likely to be reformed and who is just faking it for an easy life. One thing a lag cannot fake is his age. Older lads who still wind up in jail on financial charges are very unlikely to change their ways. Both inside and outside the jail…
See more like this at Strip Search Hell