This past weekend I spent a whole night in the cage pictured above. This is a cage that was built by Redneck Mark, and it is the future home of Bear Paul. Thanks to Master Mike for his hospitality! A wonderful guy with a serious mind for hardcore, inescapable metal and leather bondage!
He also locked me in his new isolation box!
At Serious Male Bondage, a guy is put in a full body cast. Talk about a serious bondage scene! There is probably nothing more confining than this. Here’s what Mark of Serious Male Bondage has to say:
“The guy was in the cast overnight for 14 hours. He had an internal catheter. He was very comfortable during the night. Because of his extended but bent arms and bent legs, he was able to endure the rigid enclosure. If he were lying flat like a mummy, the fatigue would have set in much sooner. Also, because of the cotton padding, he was able to move around a little inside of the cast. We changed his position from upright to lying down a few times during the night with the use of a hydraulic medical table. He woke up once during the night and because he was disoriented. He started to panic a little, but as soon as he became fully awake he calmed down and was OK for the remaining duration. He didn’t eat any solids for 24 hours before being cast. He drank two bottles of ‘Ensure’ supplement drink with a straw during the 14 hours of confinement. He wants to experience the whole process again and stay in the cast for as long as he can. It took us 2+ hours to cut him out of the cast, so that time needs to be factored into an extended stay time duration. There is no quick release for this process. The round blades of the cast saws do not rotate, they vibrate, so there is little danger of cutting through the subject’s skin. The fiberglass materials for this full body cast cost around $300. The saws cost around $280 each.”
Here are some additional pictures:
A VIDEO of this entire process is available at Serious Male Bondage.
Metalbond would like to thank Mark for sharing these pictures.
By Mikey
They freed me from the neoprene sack, after struggling so much, I was covered in sweat and drool from the gag, but very happy and turned on. Mark had set up a standing metal cage in the corner closet, so Dalton grabbed a Mr. S leather straightjacket, and they put me in it, wearing nothing by my Wescos. Daddy Tony strapped it up nice and tight too, making sure the sleeve buckles went underneath the loops on the side of the jacket, and cinching up the strap on the forearms nice and tight!
I was put in a leather posture collar underneath the jacket, which held my head really immobile and upright. To top it all off, Daddy Tony put the Mr. S asylum hood on me, taking away my sight. I was backed into the standing cage, and then the posture collar was strapped to the back of the cage, totally securing my head – I was officially stuck.
As they shut the cage door, the arms of the straightjacket stuck out a little bit – they had to push the cage door shut, which secured my arms even tighter against my body – making it impossible to move them even the slightest bit up or down, or side to side – and my head being held fast to the back of the cage all made for an amazing sensation.
As I floated off in bondage headspace, Daddy Tony tied my balls to the bars at the front of the cage with a piece of red nylon cord – I had not had an orgasm in about a week, so they were aching at this point in the scene, and having them tied to the front of the cage was more than enough to secure me even more in place.
“Good night!” Daddy Tony said, Mark and Dalton echoing the same farewell in the background somewhere, and *SLAM* – the door to the closet door closes.
“HEY! You can’t leave me here like this!” – I struggle in vain, unable to move my arms or head, and totally tied into a vertical steel cage, and of course, rock hard due to the rope on my balls. Then the lights go out in the room – I can only tell this because the tiny sliver of light coming in from the top of the asylum hood suddenly disappears. I yell some more and laugh nervously – not sure if they are serious about leaving me in here all night long – you never know at the Serious Bondage Institute!
I hear them laughing behind the door, and after a while, it opens and the light turns back in. “Aww – we couldn’t leave you here like that…” says Daddy Tony. I hear some noise, and suddenly next to my ear, I hear a click of a switch, and a loud vibrating noise. I realize that Daddy Tony has a handheld vibrator in his hand, and just that noise alone tends to get me rock hard.
I hear some clicking around at the top of the cage, and then the switch goes on again – and a very light vibration happens right on my cock. Instantly aroused, I’m frustrated as it comes and goes – and realize that Daddy Tony is not actually holding the vibrator, it’s tied to the top of the cage and is dangling down onto my cock, which is secured in place with the red nylon cord.
Even trying to back away as I felt myself getting closer to having an orgasm wouldn’t fully stop the vibration on my cock, as I was tied to the front of the cage, and the straightjacket and posture collar ensured that I wouldn’t be moving the top half of my body at all.
“Don’t you cum!” Daddy Tony yelled at me from the distance, followed by, “NOW we can leave you alone!” and the closet door slamming. Realizing that if they did leave me in there with the vibrator on, there would be no stopping me cumming – and worse yet, the vibrator would not stop either! The beam of light disappeared from the top of the asylum mask again, and I tried yelling, but the vibrator felt so good that everything just came out as a half yell / half moan.
The door opened after a little bit, and Daddy Tony tormented me a little bit – noting how full my nuts were and how sore they must be right now – and he was very right! I then got permission from Daddy Tony to shoot my load, and he taped the vibrator down so that it was really firmly secured to my cock – then he backed away and they just watched.
I struggled and fought as much as I could, knowing that when I shot it would feel amazing, but that the vibrator was still going to be firmly attached to my dick – and if you’ve experienced that sensation before, you know what that’s like! Suddenly I erupted, a week’s work of cum oozing out from my securely tied balls, and the vibration, of course, kept going mercilessly! I’m not sure how long they left it running, but I know I was panting and out of breath when it finally was disabled, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.
Slumping in my restraints in the cage, exhausted and out of breath, I make a pitiful noise to signify that I’m spent.
“Good night – for real now.” *SLAM* The beam of light disappears.
Metalbond would like to thank Mikey for this story and Mark at Serious Male Bondage for the pictures!
To learn more about Serious Male Bondage, click here.
The Mr. S Asylum Hood is available here. The Mr. S Leather Straitjacket is available here.
In the morning he is bolted to an X-cross and bullwhipped. At Dream Boy Bondage.
Instead of being freed after sucking off his captor, Riley is chained in a tiny prison cell for the night, naked and completely alone. In the morning, Jared appears and bolts his prize to an X-cross. Riley’s smooth body retains the scars from his numerous beatings. Little does he know that those earlier whippings were a mere preview. Jared will now lash him with a six-foot bullwhip, up and down his chest and stomach, leaving the prisoner gasping and sputtering in pain, his pink, hairless torso covered with lash marks.
Here is a free video preview:
Click for Dream Boy Bondage
Research and development continues at Serious Male Bondage. This is a multi-purpose bondage bed designed for overnight endurance tests. The subject is restrained and then left in the dark for extended periods of time while being monitored via a remote infrared video link. A chastity device is used to keep the subject focused on the test and not on his fantasies.
To see this and much more, go to Serious Male Bondage
Wow this is cool! Mark — who runs SeriousMaleBondage.com — is also a practitioner of serious male bondage. He’s the real deal. Mark recently visited the private jail facility run by Bind, and he’s got some great pictures and information to share. Check him out:
Mark writes,
This is me in a private jail facility owned by my friend Bind. I was trying out my new steel bondage belt and rubber mitts. The belt was made by DungeonDelights.com and the mitts were from BlackStyle.com. The mitts you see are actually a pair of large size mitts pulled over a pair of medium size mitts, creating a much more intense sense of helplessness. No dexterity and complete helplessness.
I was chained to the wall like this on five different occasions during my stay, two of the sessions were overnight. The leather muzzle had an attached rubber penis gag, and my ankles were locked together with a pair of DungeonDelights.com steel cuffs. I loved every minute of my experience and can’t wait to do it again. I was on a natural high. In one scene I watched the sun go down and the cell become pitch black, and in another scene I watched the sun come up and the cell get light. All my thoughts were silent, and all my cares went away. I was just there. I have fantasized about being chained up in a jail cell since I was a kid and at various times in my life.
The cool thing about this jail cell is that it was built before round vertical bars were used. As you can see, the old-fashioned strap steel bars are far more scary and oppressive, which adds to my feeling of helplessness and being overpowered. This scene took place a few days before Thanksgiving 2016, and strangely enough, while I was looking through the strap bars to the outside window, I fantasized about being locked up like this over Christmas, knowing that my family was gathering for a meal and opening their presents. While they are sitting around the fireplace and watching the game on TV, I am in heavy bondage, chained to the wall in a small oppressive and scary 
jail cell, helpless and completely alone. This fantasy is very fulfilling and extremely exciting to me. The truth of the matter is I would like to be chained up like this every night, and I don’t mean to be insulting, but this feels more satisfying to me than being in a relationship and sleeping with a partner. I’m sure that shrinks would have a field day with that, but it doesn’t matter. I have sought bondage experiences like this since I was a kid, and although they have sometimes come close, this experience in the jail cell was the absolute best.
A special thanks to my friend Bind for allowing me to have this fantasy come true with my own gear. Check out his profile on Recon, FetLife, his bondage website MenInChains.com, and his jail facility at HamptonJail.com.
Thanks, Mark, for the pictures and information!
By Hotch Rider
With Jack’s command, I got out of the glass-walled room into what looked like an old storage facility. It wasn’t terribly large, maybe 60 feet across in both dimensions. There were lockers, hangers and cages all around the room and they were filled with your typical dungeon equipment: whips, chains, cuffs, gags, hoods, dildos, rope and then some. The floor was polished concrete and there were windows at the ceiling, which was almost 20 feet high. It smelled of fresh leather.
“Walk to the middle and face me.”
He was watching me take it all in. I knew he could see my mouth hanging open and cock twitching. I walked toward the middle of the room, where there was a yellow circle with a drain in the middle the size of a manhole cover. I stood on it and faced the man.
“How do you wanna start?”
I was silent. I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer. Even if I were, I had no idea what to say.
“Want some paddling? Some whip action maybe? It is getting late, maybe you just want to sleep. When was the last time you peed?”
It had been a long time, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he walked over to the back wall and picked up wrist restraints for suspension. He proceeded to put them on me, padlocked them, then produced an industrial remote out of his pocket, which he used to lower some chains from a winch. Soon, my hands were lifted above my head. Jack came back with spreader bars both for my hands and my feet. Now I was spread eagled and, a few seconds of winching later, on my tiptoes. I never guessed how painful this position was. It was pretty standard in porn, so I expected more of a discomfort after some time, nothing immediate. My shoulders were stretched and toes extended beyond regular. I was moaning silently and rocking back and forth. I knew I had to take it but for how long?
Jack went around and hugged me from behind. His body was warm and firm. He grabbed my balls and squeezed them a little, carefully avoiding my cock. His hands moved around my nipples, lightly twisting them. Without a warning he clipped on a clamp and then another. I jumped a bit but he was still hugging me. The pain was familiar as I had used pins on my nipples before, although this time I couldn’t take them off when they were too much. While I was still concentrated on the clamps, Jack started kissing the back of my neck. I instinctively threw my head back, trying to intensify the sensation. I had goosebumps all over. My feet were trembling as they were getting tired. He moved his lips down, kissing all the way to the small of my back. His hands moved over my cheeks, sometimes slipping into the crack. I was getting edged without even anyone touching my cock.
He started rubbing my crack, zoning in on my asshole. Moving in circles, his fingers started pushing at my puckered hole. He used his spit to ease the way in. I could feel his knuckles going past the sphincter. It was a novel sensation, one that I welcomed with open arms. Then, I felt something a bit larger, bit firmer and a bit colder. This one didn’t have knuckles, it just went straight in my ass. Suddenly, he took his hands off.
“That’s a laxative. Hold it in for 15 minutes.” I hated suppositories as a child. I sure as hell wouldn’t like them now. Jack left the room. My toes were sizzling. I had tried shifting my weight, but every time I did, the pain would start all over again so now I stood perfectly still. I could hear my tummy rumbling and feel the spasms. Ten minutes passed and my moans got louder. I couldn’t hold it in any longer but had no intention of shitting in this position. I was sweating like crazy when Jack came over with a bucket. I emptied my bowels.
“Surprised you could hold it in that long. Now let’s clean you up.” He went and got a garden hose. The water was cold and the spray was strong. I squeaked as he brushed me all over, cleaning away the mud in every nook and cranny. He hadn’t been gentle and when he was done, my skin was all red. I was very cold now, my teeth were chattering. He went away and came back rolling a space heater. The warmth was immediate.
“Thank you, Sir.” He nodded. I felt safe.
“Here’s a baby monitor. The safeword is ‘purple,’ you say that and I’ll come running. Other than that, shout all you want. Nobody will hear. Try to get some sleep.”
Metal would like to thank the author, Hotch Rider, for this story!
By Mark from Serious Male Bondage
Hey guys, Mark here from Serious Male Bondage. I’m sitting on a plane waiting to take off on another bondage adventure. I’m going to visit my friend Bind at his jail in Hampton Iowa for a few weeks as a mini bondage vacation. (Check out the jail’s website here. This visit is less about shooting videos and more about getting in some quality bondage time of my own. I need some bondage down-time and brought three suitcases filled with my own gear. The idea is to ask Bind to put me in my gear and leave me for a while to I can get some good alone time in my favorite gear. At home I often play with my gear doing self-bondage, and sometimes MummyEd comes over and locks me in for a while, but I like the setting of Bind’s jail and basement as places to be tied up and left alone in a more “serious” environment.
Sometimes I will be chained up and Bind will leave me restrained all night. Bind is always in earshot, and there is more than one person in the building, so I feel pretty safe. On this visit I hope to do an all night spread eagle on the concrete floor of the basement, in my rubber suit. Since I’m visiting at the end of the year, the temperature outside is hovering around freezing, so I’ll have to lie on something to insulate myself from the cold floor.
Before I go any further, I’d like to share this picture with you guys. I took this picture last month at the new EdgeDungeon.com. This poor guy was handcuffed to the walls and hosed down with a garden hose in the shower cell. The shower cell is the same size as the other jail cells, but has a shower head with hot and cold water. The great part about this cell is that there are attachment points in the wall and floor allowing a prisoner to be collared or shackled, sitting or standing. Then, with the use of a standard garden hose which is located at the far end of the cell, with it’s own faucet, the prisoner can be hosed down and is completely unable to escape the stream of water coming from the nozzle of the hose. We all know how much fun it is to squirt water across the yard with your home garden hose, imagine being able to hose down your submissive in the same way! It’s kind of like being at the do-it-your-self car wash.
I arrived at Bind’s place around midnight with three suitcases full of bondage gear. There was light snow falling as we dragged my suitcases into the house. The picture above shows three metal collars I brought with me that would allow me to have on different thicknesses of hoods and still fit a collar around my neck. The only problem with bringing all this gear is the extra baggage charges. You gotta be pretty hardcore to bring this much bondage gear on a vacation. BTW – I borrowed the collars from the handcuff collector Yossie Silverman.
The next morning we got up and I helped Bind shoot a few segments for his bondage video series “Mind Trap.” Bind has a cool Gibbet cage that his friend welded together for him. We put him in a leather straitjacket and then into the cage and hoisted it off the floor for the video.
The second scene in the video was hoisting Bind upside-down in an arms-down leather straitjacket. I swear, Bind gets more bondage than 10 of us put together! Check out his “Mind Trap” video series on MenInChains.com.
My first bondage scene since my arrival was to be shackled spread-eagle on the floor of the basement. As I said, it was freezing outside and although the basement wasn’t that cold, it was chilly. So I laid on a foam mat and with the StudioGum heavy latex suit, leather boots and a Mr S latex surf-suit on underneath, I was mostly OK. I had ordered a “Texas Catheter” set from Amazon, and had the bag strapped to my right calf under the heavy rubber suit. It has a condom with medical adhesive that allows the condom to stick to your cock once it’s rolled on, then a small hose connects the condom to the bag.
With this setup I didn’t have to worry about stopping the scene because I had to go pee. This is the first time I had ever tried this, and it worked out really great. I wish I would have thought about this a long time ago. During my 2-plus hours on the floor I peed twice and my urine was captured flawlessly in the bag. Fantastic! I will try this scene again in the next few days and go much longer.
Finally, in the evening we gathered in Bind’s living room to watch TV, and I ended up putting a StudioGum thick rubber hood on Bind, and the biggest metal collar over his neck. I had the hood buckled too tight so Bind didn’t last very long. I want to try this hood while chained to the wall in the jail cell, which I will do tomorrow. Stay tuned!
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank Mark from Serious Male Bondage for this true story!
By Steellock
Joe and Adam climbed out of the taxi in the small East Anglian market town and looked at the red brick terraced house. It was Sunday morning of a Bank Holiday weekend and a lot of planning had gone into today.
The house looked like the ones on each side, but today it would be holding a secret inside! They were here for a real festival of bondage; many guys would be gathering to experience that wonderful feeling of giving up the freedom to move around, and in some cases the freedom to move at all!
Joe was here to be the man in charge – to be the Top to all these guys – he did not really know yet how many. Adam was here with his partner, but he was taking part – being in tight bondage was a real love of his and he was already hard at the thought. He had hardly slept at all that night.
Joe knocked on the door. He used the agreed code knock: tap tap tap; tap…tap…tap… tap tap tap.
The door opened and he saw the Host. They saw short grey hair over a wide grin, medium height with a slightly podgy but muscular build. Today dressed in high black boots with twenty lines of white lacing up the front and white socks rolled over the top; short skinhead bleachers with a thick black belt and a black rubber polo shirt trimmed in red. Over this a thick black shoulder harness was buckled on and wide leather wrist bracers completing his appearance.
He waved them in and they saw that a lot of preparation had already been done. Two more guys were there, and between them the furniture in the big main room had been either cleared out into the garden or pushed back to the walls leaving a wide expanse of carpet. One guy, Kaz, was a stocky muscular lad with very short hair. The other, Tony, was slightly older but still slim and showing strong muscles from his hobby of kayaking.
In the room Adam could see lovely things already laid out. By the back glass doors into the garden was a cage. About 6 feet long and 2 feet wide and 1 foot and a half high, it had black steel bars with a steel plate base. The base was covered in a thin rubber pad and black leather. Not enough to be comfortable but enough, perhaps, to ease a man’s bones! The top was hinged open and rested against the wall – open at the moment!
Three sleepsacks were spread out in lines, one of thick black leather, one of neoprene and one made of thick strong black material. There was space for a lot more!
Across the middle of the room a gibbet cage lay on its back; the first he had actually seen.
Against the front window facing down the room was a bondage chair; high ladder back and leather leg supports; it was already fixed up with a series of leather belts ready for the legs, body, neck and arms of its victim. On one wall was a white board and a series of names ran down one side with three columns. One said ‘Target’ the next ‘Start’ and the last ‘Out.’
Adam ran his eyes down the list and found his name with a ‘12’ in the Target column. A shiver ran down his spine – a long time since he had been in bondage for 12 hours!
Seeing them looking around, the Host turned to Adam and said, ‘Your place is ready in the back bedroom! Go have a look and change if you like, both of you.’
Adam saw an open door in the side of the long room and led Joe through and up the winding stairs. Opposite the top of the stairs they could see into a room, the door standing open and welcoming them in. As he stepped in Adam’s cock leapt. The bed was covered in a black rubber sheet and the wide white webbing straps of a restraint system crossed it in regular lines up from base to head. He would be strapped in there soon!
They changed – Adam into an orange short-sleeved prison inmates’ coverall over his boots and Joe into black leather! Leather trousers and a leather shirt under his thick leather jacket…
Adam loved to see his partner dress as The Master! They headed back down into the main room to hear the doorknocker go – the tapping of the password was thudding vigorously on the door. Tony opened the door and a slim, fit biker called Mike stepped in, wearing his leathers.
“OK, it’s going to get crowded soon,” said the host. “Let’s get Joe busy and a few guys out of the way! The House rules, that you all agreed to – you chose your bondage time; it’s up on the board; Joe is in charge and he will keep you to it! If you give the red word, even if it’s just for a pee and back in, you can get out but you pay a forfeit. Six of the best with the rubber paddle or 12 with the flogger. If you stay out you get both!”
“Kaz, let’s get started with you – strip boi!”
Kaz’s heart leapt into his mouth, but he pulled off his T-shirt and trousers and stood ready. The Host came over with a heavy rubber hood. Bought from Studio Gum it was 5mm thick and had a solid front that was shaped to fit closely to the face with holes under the nose and a small hole over the mouth for breathing. He pulled it over the man’s head and then let Kaz get it sitting right. The zip was pulled down carefully, making sure that the thin rubber hair guard did not foul it. It was a close fit but not too tight. Kaz loved this hood and would now be in a dark, rubber smelling, tight embrace. The Host led him over and pushed him on the shoulders indicating that he should get down into the black leather sleepsack. Kaz slipped his legs into the base, wriggling his toes to get them right. He felt behind him and his hands were guided on each side into the internal sleeves so as he lay back they slid down by his sides.
He felt the collar being straightened behind his head and found a small pillow under his head. Then he heard and felt the zip being pulled up and the sack tightened around him. A hand was placed over his cock and balls as the zip went up over them and then it tightened over his chest and went up to his neck He knew that it was being fastened to the collar before that was then closed around his neck.
What he could not see – but could definitely feel – was Joe then working his way up the sack with a rope lacing it tight. Soon the leather cocoon was striped up the front with a zigzag of white rope that was then pulled tight and knotted at the top. This was followed by a series of leather straps one each for the ankles, thighs, hips, waist and shoulders and Kaz wriggled as each was fastened and they added to the restraint on his hands and arms. But it was not too tight. He could just move a little and this would be enough to get him through the time – he hoped…
Kaz was definitely wrapped up and Joe looked at his watch. He wrote the time next to Kaz’s name on the board, added 8 hours and put his ‘Out’ time as 6pm…
They could all hear the sound of another bike pulling up outside as the first biker was led over to the Neoprene sleepsack. He pulled off his leathers and was helped to slip his legs and arms into its tight embrace. His head was zipped into a matching neoprene hood that had a gasmask built in.
He lay back and the main zip was pulled up. He could move a lot more than Kaz but definitely not get out!
Joe wrote his time next to his name – Mark 6 hours.
Meanwhile Tony had opened the door to the next caller – a tall, strongly built guy in full leathers called the Bikerlad.
He was running late due to traffic from London and hurried through to the back of the house for a quick pee knowing it would be his last chance for a while! Then he went immediately to the cage! He had been looking forward to this for weeks. The Host held up an old hood; made of thick leather it was a ‘Sci Fi’ hood from Mr S in the USA. It was actually the first hood that he had bought and he still grinned every time he remembered the day the postman had delivered the brown package that was clearly labeled for import taxes as ‘Leather Bondage Hood.’
That Postie was still on the round and had delivered many packages since but all of the rest had been in plain wrappers! He had his suspicions though…
It was pulled on over the Bikerlad’s head and the laces pulled tight; the back strap was then fastened with its buckles, three on each side and a padlock clicked as it locked the collar closed. The collar of his biker leathers was pulled up and closed over it. For the moment the Host left the blindfold hanging ready so the Bikerlad could see as he slipped down onto the steel base of the cage and lay on his back. Next, heavy steel manacles were locked over his boots and another pair locked onto his wrists. A heavy chain was padlocked to the ankle manacles; another padlock secured his wrists to it half way up and the top was locked to the D ring on the front of the hood. Then the Host closed the top of the cage and Joe slipped a large heavy padlock through the steel loops and clicked it shut. The Bikerlad wriggled and struggled a bit bending up to look at himself.
‘Can’t have that,’ said the Host and leant over to strap the blindfold tight on the hood leaving the Bikerlad in blackness and a final padlock was slipped through a ring in the top of the hood and locked to a steel loop in the end of the cage…
Adam had been watching this and his cock had got harder and harder with each guy being sealed into their chosen bondage. Joe grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards that stairs. “You’re next, boi!” he said. Joe and the Host followed him up the stairs, leaving Tony to watch over the growing brood of bondage boys in the main room. He could see the Bikerlad still wriggling and squirming as he tested the size of the cage and found how much space he had to move around in. Not much! He ran his hands over the tight neoprene that cocooned Mark the Biker and then put his hand over the intake of the gasmask. Mark twitched and immediately struggled. Laughing, Tony took it away and let the man breathe. He then went to the board and spent a little time updating it with the Bikerlad who had a time of 12 hours against his name! He would be sore after that!
Upstairs Adam lay on the bed. Joe and the Host started at the top securing his head. A wide cotton strap went over his forehead and was closed with Velcro. Another strap went down under his chin holding his mouth closed and joined the first strap. Then a strap went from the main webbing over his forehead and down again being locked with one of the patent magnetic fasteners. Suddenly Adam could not move his head, it would not turn and he could not move it up off the sheet.
Next came his middle. A wide belt went over his waist and another pulled up over his groin. They were joined by another lock – Joe pulled the groin strap just tight enough to make Adam grunt and grinned…
Another strap went over his chest and this had a pair of extensions that went over his shoulders and down to the top web by his head, each one locking.
Then the two worked their way down each side securing his upper arms over his biceps, they wrapped a pair of restraints round his wrists and secured them down. They locked his thighs and finally wrapped and secured his ankles over his boots.
Adam could not move. At all! He had never been as completely restrained and he grinned and looked up into Joe’s eyes. “You chose 12 hours, boi,” he said, “but I just raised that to 18! We are here all night and I have a catheter ready to slip in a little later!” The Host’s heart jumped too – that was news to him and had a significance he would share later…
They left Adam in a state of emotional turmoil as he tried to wriggle and move but found that he was completely unable to move, all the while thinking of the promise from his partner – a catheter! The Host showed Joe the front room; the bed was set up with another rubber sheet, D rings down each side and chains strung across the top and the base. “Ready for Alfie as we discussed,” said the Host and pointed at a pile of rope and chains on the floor. Joe grinned – rope was his thing. They headed back downstairs and found that Alfie had arrived – a wirey older guy. He slipped off his jeans and top and the guys could see that he was wearing tight rubber bondage shorts and a rubber T-shirt. The Host introduced him to Joe – his Master for the day — and Joe led him off upstairs.
The Host and Tony were busy. Dave had pulled up on his CBR600. He came with his own leather sleepsack and very quickly he had joined the line on the floor and was zipped, laced and strapped up like Kaz. Top to tail they were a mirror image except for the hood; Dave was muzzled, his jaw held tightly closed by padded leather and the straps locked around his head. His entry on the board was 12 hours too. As a complete bondage sub he was wet with anticipation and could be seen grinning under the muzzle.
Jack from Norwich arrived. He was already wearing his army gear. His love was his straitjacket. Made from thick leather and padded at the shoulder and elbows with wide heavy leather straps it was made by the famous Jim Stewart early in his career. The Host had fond memories of the SJ – it was one of his first bondage experiences and still one of the best. The guys soon had Jack strapped in and sitting in a wooden chair his boots locked with a pair of steel restraints. They then pulled a thick khaki cloth hood over his head and pulled the cord tight.
Jack started to rock to and fro and moan happily…
Joe came downstairs and looked the Host in his eyes. You’re next! Tony grinned and grabbed his friend by his shoulders, moving him over to the gibbet cage that lay on the floor.
This was the Host’s new pride and joy. He had found a BDSM Blacksmith in Lancashire who was keen to add cages to his normal product list of collars and restraints. The Host had visited him with his sleepsack, a hood and some boots; they had been able to take the vital measurements for the cage! His hooded form lying, zipped into his sleepsack, gave a perfect smooth profile for the Blacksmith to measure. The man had spent an hour getting every detail down onto paper, taking multiple pictures and notes and then, with a grin, sat eating his lunch leaving his new client safe and restrained until later that afternoon!
It had just arrived in time for the bondage orgy. Tony hauled it open, it hinged from the widest point. The room was getting full and he had to rest the heavy steel on the leather form of Kaz next to it. Kaz grunted not knowing what the heavy thing on his body was!
Sitting on the nearby bondage chair the Host pulled a hood over his head. A thick padded leather isolation hood with a plain front, it had a leather nose with two small grommet holes and a larger steel grommet over the mouth. Ideal for a long duration it was comfortable and had ample airflow but was a total blackout and thick enough to restrict the noises of the house. The guys laced down the back and finished the job by pulling down the zip and locking the collar with a small padlock.
Then they led the booted skinhead over to the cage and pushed his shoulders. He bent and felt the cold steel. This was it – he was going to find out what it was really like! He climbed in and lay down feeling the wide steel strips under his back and round and up the sides. It was a tight fit as well – his boots just fitted into the base; his legs were held on each side; he could just fit his arms by his sides and he felt the bars come over his shoulders and gripping his hooded head solidly.
“Ready?” He heard Tony asking and nodded holding his breath as they closed the top of the cage. It fitted perfectly with the fastening lug slipping though its hole. Joe slipped a padlock into the loop and clicked it shut. The Host lay totally immobile. He sighed and relaxed.
Then Joe took Tony over to the Bondage chair. He swiftly had the man hooded, a rubber hood with pinhole eyes as Tony was actually still on watching duty.
He strapped him in, his boots, thighs, waist, chest and neck strapped tightly to the chair frame with leather belts while his wrists were wrapped in leather restraints that were locked to the back of the seat. Laughing he also clipped a pair of tit clamps on to Tony’s nipples. “The Host said to keep them on all day!” he said and Tony wriggled and moaned wondering if he really meant it…
Joe walked over to the board – it was now nearly completed and had a range of times from 4 hours to 18 listed down the columns. Jack had a shift that evening and was the shortest time. Joe added 18 hours to the entry of the Host and laughed. The Host had agreed to be in his new cage for the same time as the longest volunteer in the rest of the gang. Which he thought was 12 hours!
Joe wandered round his domain. He checked on each guy asking “Green?” to each one and getting an answering grunt in each case.
A Bikerlad in a cage.
Three guys side by side in sleepsacks and hoods.
A steel gibbet cage with a Skinhead locked inside with his boots and a thick hood. Immobile.
A squaddie in his straitjacket sitting at the side.
Upstairs two guys, one completely restrained in Segufix and one roped and chained tightly on the front room bed.
Tony sitting strapped into his chair looking down the room and wincing as the titclamps gripped his nipples and started to sting.
Then the doorknocker went tap tap tap, tap…tap…tap… tap tap tap.
Another guy entered with a bag in his hand. He pulled a mesh sleepsack from it with a matching mesh hood, and Joe got busy adding him to the collection!
Steellock 2017
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Sleep well, JimmyUSMC, because when you wake up you will still be locked in those chains!
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It works if you have them all the prisoners bound in canvas sleepsacks!
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Sleep well, prisoner. We will be back for you in the morning. Or maybe the next day.
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By Hotch Rider
With Jack’s command, I got out of the glass-walled room into what looked like an old storage facility. It wasn’t terribly large, maybe 60 feet across in both dimensions. There were lockers, hangers and cages all around the room and they were filled with your typical dungeon equipment: whips, chains, cuffs, gags, hoods, dildos, rope and then some. The floor was polished concrete and there were windows at the ceiling, which was almost 20 feet high. It smelled of fresh leather.
“Walk to the middle and face me.”
He was watching me take it all in. I knew he could see my mouth hanging open and cock twitching. I walked toward the middle of the room, where there was a yellow circle with a drain in the middle the size of a manhole cover. I stood on it and faced the man.
“How do you wanna start?”
I was silent. I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer. Even if I were, I had no idea what to say.
“Want some paddling? Some whip action maybe? It is getting late, maybe you just want to sleep. When was the last time you peed?”
It had been a long time, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he walked over to the back wall and picked up wrist restraints for suspension. He proceeded to put them on me, padlocked them, then produced an industrial remote out of his pocket, which he used to lower some chains from a winch. Soon, my hands were lifted above my head. Jack came back with spreader bars both for my hands and my feet. Now I was spread eagled and, a few seconds of winching later, on my tiptoes. I never guessed how painful this position was. It was pretty standard in porn, so I expected more of a discomfort after some time, nothing immediate. My shoulders were stretched and toes extended beyond regular. I was moaning silently and rocking back and forth. I knew I had to take it but for how long?
Jack went around and hugged me from behind. His body was warm and firm. He grabbed my balls and squeezed them a little, carefully avoiding my cock. His hands moved around my nipples, lightly twisting them. Without a warning he clipped on a clamp and then another. I jumped a bit but he was still hugging me. The pain was familiar as I had used pins on my nipples before, although this time I couldn’t take them off when they were too much. While I was still concentrated on the clamps, Jack started kissing the back of my neck. I instinctively threw my head back, trying to intensify the sensation. I had goosebumps all over. My feet were trembling as they were getting tired. He moved his lips down, kissing all the way to the small of my back. His hands moved over my cheeks, sometimes slipping into the crack. I was getting edged without even anyone touching my cock.
He started rubbing my crack, zoning in on my asshole. Moving in circles, his fingers started pushing at my puckered hole. He used his spit to ease the way in. I could feel his knuckles going past the sphincter. It was a novel sensation, one that I welcomed with open arms. Then, I felt something a bit larger, bit firmer and a bit colder. This one didn’t have knuckles, it just went straight in my ass. Suddenly, he took his hands off.
“That’s a laxative. Hold it in for 15 minutes.” I hated suppositories as a child. I sure as hell wouldn’t like them now. Jack left the room. My toes were sizzling. I had tried shifting my weight, but every time I did, the pain would start all over again so now I stood perfectly still. I could hear my tummy rumbling and feel the spasms. Ten minutes passed and my moans got louder. I couldn’t hold it in any longer but had no intention of shitting in this position. I was sweating like crazy when Jack came over with a bucket. I emptied my bowels.
“Surprised you could hold it in that long. Now let’s clean you up.” He went and got a garden hose. The water was cold and the spray was strong. I squeaked as he brushed me all over, cleaning away the mud in every nook and cranny. He hadn’t been gentle and when he was done, my skin was all red. I was very cold now, my teeth were chattering. He went away and came back rolling a space heater. The warmth was immediate.
“Thank you, Sir.” He nodded. I felt safe.
“Here’s a baby monitor. The safeword is ‘purple,’ you say that and I’ll come running. Other than that, shout all you want. Nobody will hear. Try to get some sleep.”
Metal would like to thank the author, Hotch Rider, for this story!
By AlphaMetal
Day 1, Evening – Intake, Part 2
Cody has no idea how long they had been cuffed to the poles. After an hour or two you lose all sense of actual time. But it felt like a long time and Cody’s arms and shoulders ached from having his hands pinned behind his back. Even his feet were beginning to hurt from supporting his weight for so long on the hard concrete floor without shoes.
Cody’s mind was beginning to go in and out. The one thing he felt was helpless. Totally helpless. Cody’s arms hurt, his shoulders hurt, his feet hurt, he was a little cold, and there was nothing he could do about any of it. If they had wanted that to sink in, it had sunk in.
He had no idea what time it was, but based on the time he arrived at the camp, and the time he spent cuffed on the floor waiting for the other boys to arrive, and the time it took to cut their hair and shave their bodies, and however many hours he had been cuffed to the pole, it must be very dark outside.
Cody was beginning to zone in and out – not really sleep, but something kind of like it – when the sound of boots on the floor snapped him awake. In walked the Commander, each of the boys’ four masters, and Alpha, followed by the barefoot slave.
Each Master walked up to his boy and looked him over, and then nodded to the Commander and walked out of the room.
Alpha removed the padlocks that attached the boys to their poles and led them through a door into the next room, which was a shower room from when the building was used as a boy scout camp. Two of the walls had shower heads – about 20 in total – and there were several drains in the floor. Under each shower head was a large solid eye-bolt sunk in the wall to which a restraint could be attached. Cody guessed they were not there when this was a boy scout camp.
Alpha unlocked each boy’s handcuffs and motioned with his finger for the boys to line up under the showers. The Commander stood in the doorway and watched the scene.
Cody expected Alpha to tell them to turn on their showers but instead Alpha picked up a large garden hose and shot a wide spray of water down the line, wetting the boys. Alpha made a turning motion with his finger in the air and it was clear he wanted the boys to turn around, so they did, and he sprayed their backs with water.
The slaveboy walked down the line and gave each boy a small piece of used soap. The slave mimicked a washing motion with his hands on various places on his body to tell the boys to soap up their freshly buzzed heads, their chests and arms, their armpits, their crotches, their legs, and their ass cracks. The slave watched the boys soap up and when each was covered with soap he walked down the line and took back the small pieces of soap and put them in a bowl. “Some other group will be using that soap,” Cody thought to himself.
Alpha turned on the wide spray and hosed down the boys and then made the turning motion with his finger to get them to turn around for their backs to be hosed off.
The Commander spoke up: “Bend and spread your ass cheeks.”
The boys did as they were told and Alpha turned the nozzle from a spray to a solid stream of water and directed it at each boy’s hole, letting it hit each hole for about 30 seconds as each boy bent over and spread his ass.
When the water stopped the boys realized they were allowed to stand up again and the slave gave each of them a very small towel to dry himself. The slave collected the towels and Alpha led the boys through a door to a small room which had a table with four sets of carefully folded clothes. Alpha pointed to the clothes and the boys got dressed, putting on an identical pair of white boxer shorts and a two-piece blue prison uniform that looked like medical scrubs.
Cody reflected on the intake as he got dressed. Just a few hours ago each of them had arrived wearing his own clothes, shoes, and personal items. Wrestler had his jock sneakers on his feet and that sexy leather wristband. Pretty Boy had his band t-shirt and cute silver necklace. The Colonel looked commanding even in his casual clothes. And Cody had been wearing a well-worn pair of jeans that had molded to his body and were super comfortable. And Cody also remembered that just a few hours ago Wrestler had a sexy haircut that was short at the sides and longer at the top; the Colonel looked distinguished with his graying officer cut; and Pretty Boy had that long smooth hair that Cody wanted to run his fingers through. Now, Cody thought, we’re four naked boys with identical buzz cuts wearing prison scrubs with no hair around our dicks who line up and do things because some guy moves his finger.
They boys were left alone in the small room and in just a few minutes the slaveboy came into the room pushing a cart holding four trays with plates of meatloaf and green beans, forks, and four bottles of water. The slave laid the food on the table, Alpha pointed to the plates, and the four boys hungrily devoured the hot food which they badly needed after their long day. Cody thought it was the best food he had ever eaten.
After the boys finished eating Alpha and the slave led them through a door to a long room that had been a dormitory for boy scouts with two lines of metal cots against each wall, 20 beds in each line. Most of the cots were just bare metal legs and springs but about 10 of them had thin mattresses with faded blue stripes and a thin pillow with the same faded stripes.
It had been a long day and Cody hoped this meant it was time for sleep, and it was. Alpha led the boys toward the cots with mattresses. He pointed at Wrestler, and then at a cot, and Wrestler laid down on the bare mattress, and then he did the same with Cody, the Colonel, and Pretty Boy.
The slave had disappeared but showed up again holding four sets of leg shackles. He handed one to Alpha, who shackled Wrestler’s left ankle to the end of his cot and then did the same to Cody, the Colonel, and Pretty Boy.
The slave left and came back with four thin sheets and laid a sheet over each boy. Alpha and the slave left, the lights went out, and within minutes all four boys were asleep, their ankles shackled to their cots.
To be continued …
This story is copyright © 2020 by AlphaMetal@protonmail.com and is used here with permission.
Research and development continues at Serious Male Bondage. Could you handle a test like this?
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By Alex Ironrod
This story contains adult-oriented material, involving sexually explicit, non-consensual behavior between men.
Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. All rights reserved.
This story is posted here with permission.
Jack Thomson was pissed off, pissed at himself. He’d done in the transmission of his car on a rock sticking out of the dirt on the back road. It was his own fault for showing off to Mary-Louise. He’d invited her to the parade at Texas A & M, and he’d dressed up in his cavalry uniform – khaki breeches with a wide flare, spit-polished brown boots and his uncle’s Prince of Wales spurs, with new straps – his right as a senior. He knew his 6’ frame looked good in the khaki shirt, tie and the Sam Browne belt; he’d strutted round the parade ground with his boot cleats ringing loudly and his campaign hat at just the right angle.
Mary-Louise had been properly impressed, according to his best friend, Tim Dixon, and so he’d stayed in uniform to drive her back home in the hills outside College Station. They’d made out in the back of his Chevy, but he had to be back for duty by 7pm, so he’d cut it short, and, following her directions, tried the short cut through the dry and dusty hills back to college. Now it was late afternoon; he was stuck, and he hadn’t bothered to tell Tim or the others where he was going. He kicked at the tire with his boot in exasperation.
“You need some help?” a voice helloed from behind him. Jack swung round; a man sat a tall horse on the nearby hill. “Got a problem with your car?” “Yes, sir, wrecked the transmission.” “Hold on,” and the man urged the stallion down the slope and trotted towards him. Jack watched him approach and dismount with a jingle of spurs.
He was about the same height as Jack, but much broader across the shoulders and chest in a well-worn work shirt, and older – over 30, compared to Jack’s 21 – under the brown Stetson. He moved easily in his heavy brown leather chaps, encasing his jeans, and his worn boots with the jingle-bob spurs. “What happened? You aren’t exactly dressed for car repairs.” “No, sir, I’m a senior at A & M and I was escorting a young lady home after our parade,” Jack explained a little pompously. “Well, my ranch is a couple of miles away and you could phone for help from there,” suggested the stranger. “I’d be grateful.” “Fine; can you ride? Put your foot in my stirrup and swing up behind me. And watch with those dinky spurs. Sierra doesn’t appreciate unnecessary jabs.”
The horse moved briskly away from the car in response to pressure from the rider’s leathered legs, and Jack bounced behind the saddle, pulling down the strap on his hat and circling his arms around the man. “By the way, my name is Brad, Brad Steenbeck,” the horseman introduced himself. “Jack Thomson, a senior “Aggie,” studying engineering. “What’s with cavalry uniform?,” the stranger enquired. “Oh, I’m one of the “Zips,” a top group of the corps of cadets, who are the only ones allowed to dress like this – my uncle was one before me, and it’s his English spurs I’m wearing – and I think the outfit’s neat.” “Well, it’s going to get dusty on this trail, and the tall chaparral is going to scratch your pretty boots. OK if we try a gentle lope – you can hold on tighter if you want.”
Jack did exactly that, as Sierra broke into a smooth but fast canter. His sweaty hand slipped below the stranger’s waist, into the denimed hole between the leather chaps and he felt the stirrings of a large penis. He tried to remove his hand, but Brad’s gloved fist forced it down, to massage the prick underneath. Jack’s own tool was coming to life as he slithered on Sierra’s broad back. He wasn’t sure what to make of these sensations, as the horse’s rapid gait carried them into the hills. “Relax, son, enjoy it. We’ll soon be there.” Brad’s spare hand now reached behind him and accurately squeezed Jack’s expanding member.
As they slowed down to a walk, a well-cared for ranch house and barn came into view. “I’ll move my leg forward; put your foot into the stirrup and swing down,” the ranger suggested. They both dismounted with a jingle of spurs and creak of leather, each with an unacknowledged but vigorous hard-on. “I’ll put Sierra away in the barn, while you go into the house and use the phone. The door’s unlocked.” Jack clomped into the tiled living room, his boot cleats echoing in the empty silence. The space was comfortably furnished with masculine western accents; another saddle and coiled ropes sat on a rack in a corner; spurs, gloves and a straw Stetson hung from pegs. On the walls were photographs and citations; Jack looked more closely. Brad Steenbeck was a Texas Ranger, with awards for “conspicuous bravery” in a shoot-out and for horsemanship and marksmanship.
No-one else seemed to live there, and there was little sign of a woman’s touch, even in the kitchen, as Jack explored, looking for the phone. He even tried a bedroom, where the king-sized bed was covered with a shiny brown leather throw. No luck.
He wandered back out and across to the barn. “Brad, I can’t find a phone.” “Hang on a minute. Come and use the one back here.” Jack squinted as he left the fading sunshine for the gloom of the stable barn, his spurs throwing up an aroma of hay, leather and manure. Suddenly his arm was jerked savagely behind him, and he was swung round against a massive hairy chest and a large cock strutting out between leather chaps. “You seemed to like that ride in more ways than one. So let’s put our hard-ons to work,” growled Brad.
“But the phone… I have to report back in….and you’re hurting my arm. What the fuck do you want?” “I want to try you out.” The ranger twisted Jack’s arm further up his back, while his booted feet with the jingle-bob spurs kicked Jack’s Dehners apart. “I’m not interested….aaaaah,” as the pain increased, and Brad’s other gloved hand reached up with a strong-smelling pad which he pushed into Jack’s nose and mouth. The Aggie sagged into the Ranger’s strong arms.
When Jack came to, his arms had been tied above his head to two beams and his now-dusty boots were roped wide apart to the same beams. His shirt and undershirt were off, and hands were unzipping his breeches and pulling them and his boxer shorts down. “Good, you’re waking up,” Brad’s husky voice cleared some of the confusion from Jack’s brain. “I want you to feel every step of this new experience. Let’s begin by tickling this prick of yours and then moving up.”
The ranger stepped into a circle of light in front of him; he’d changed. Gone were the shirt and jeans, the working chaps. His hairy chest was almost covered by a leather vest, and his strong thighs were encased in gleaming black leather chaps and Dehner dress boots rising to his knees. The jingle-bob spurs tinkled in the stillness.
“Shout all you like. The doors are locked and you’re miles from anywhere. Now let’s tickle that cock with my whip. H’mm, that’s better. It really seems to like this treatment.” Jack squirmed in the ropes, but they held him firmly in place, as the whip and the gloved hands trailed slowly up his body, tweaking his small nipples, which also responded to the pressure. The whip pushed at his mouth. “You’re a Texas Ranger. How can you do this to me?” he gurgled as the whip’s thick handle pushed past his teeth into his mouth and the gloved hands caressed his face and ruffled his hair. “I’m a Ranger with a decidedly different bent; I take my pleasures differently and my pleasure is take you at the first stage and opportunity.”
Brad moved in tight, embracing the bound body and adding his tongue to the whip-top in the boy’s mouth. Jack’s penis was now fully engorged, reaching out to Brad’s thick member, which had extended up against him. The whip and tongue thrust at the back of the boy’s mouth, and one gloved hand kept his head steady for the savage kiss. Then both were pulled out and the hands moved down his back, with the whip’s cords sliding alongside. One glove stopped at his cheeks and a finger slipped into his ass hole. “Hey, leave me alone,” squeaked Jack, “I’m not bent.” “Not yet,” smiled Brad, twisting the Aggie’s face round so that he could kiss it, “but I’ve started to work on it. You cavalry boys shouldn’t poke your swords out front.”
Brad pushed harder against the resisting bound body, while a second gloved finger slipped into the hole and the other hand massaged the two cocks together. “Yes, sir, promising, but I need a few more items to tease you up before I get serious,” and with that Brad moved away, returning with metal and leather. “Let’s begin with your cock and balls. You’re already leaking, and I don’t want you coming yet.” A cold metal cock ring was slid firmly into position on the Aggie, followed by hands separating his balls and tying them tightly with rawhide. Jack cursed loudly and groaned deeply as his nipples were roughly twisted and tweaked.
Then he screamed, as metal clips bit into first one rosy tit and then the other. “I’m just using baby tit clamps and chain to start with. I can tell you’re a virgin to man-sex, so I’ll lead you in step by step. Here, taste some of your pre-cum. You’ll get to enjoy it.” A gloved hand slipped some of the jism from his bound cock into his protesting mouth. Jack resisted, trying to bite the glove, but the ranger was too quick and followed with a hard slap across the boy’s face. “Well, well, you’ve got some cohunes after all. I thought you were going to let me have you without a struggle, but I enjoy spirit in man and beast. And I need my hand; so let’s try a gag in its place – and you need curbing, like any young stallion.” Brad pinched Jack’s nose, his mouth opened and in went a black leather cock-gag to be buckled tightly round his head.
As Jack tried to catch his breath, Brad had retrieved his whip and moved behind him. “Just a warm-up exercise with the whip for a start.” The blow caught Jack unawares; he jerked and spluttered in his bondage and sweat broke out on his face, but the ranger continued with half a dozen more lashes raising livid weals on the bare buttocks. “Now, my young cavalryman, my prick needs its exercise too, in your heated virgin hole.” First, some lube, and two fingers spread grease in and around his chute. “I’ll start at a walk to get you used to the sensation, before I go into a canter.” Jack felt an iron rod poking at his entrance, then sliding through the grease and pushing hard at his muscle. It was a pain like nothing he had felt before, battering at his gate.
Brad thrust again, harder, and the greased tool slid through the quivering muscle and up the virgin passage. His victim shuddered and shook in the ropes and muffled screams filtered round the leather gag. Their Dehner boots banged against one another and their spurs chimed together. The ranger’s sweating body embraced the Aggie, as his cock sank its full 8-inch length into the warm hole; he withdrew, and, panting like a horse in heat, charged in and out at an increasing pace.
“Shit, I’m well in the saddle; let’s canter,” he gasped, thrusting his hips forward as if the bound and twitching body of Jack was indeed a loping stallion. The two chests heaved in sweaty unison, as penis and hole became one. The jingle-bob spurs shook in rhythm with the pronging, and, as the ranger’s cum boiled up and into the virgin cave, they and his Dehner boots’ cleats rang out together in triumph. The two men hung together, sweating and fucking. Brad twisted Jack’s face around. Tears glistened in his eyes; anger furrowed his brow, but lust caused the panting and hard breathing round the gag.
“A fucking great first ride” Brad chortled, “now let’s gallop you home,” and he grabbed Jack’s aching and straining prick, rubbing the ridges of his gloved hand along the member. Jack twisted, trying to remove the exciting but foreign influence. Too late. His body arched and, with a high-pitched shout, smothered by the black gag, he came, and an arc of thick white jism splashed onto his brown Dehner boots and the floor. “I told you you’d enjoy it,” the ranger’s prick slithered out of its temporary home and he shook off a few drops of cum. He slapped Jack’s enflamed ass, and, reaching into the pocket of his chaps, slid the black leather plug he produced into the boy’s empty hole.
“That should keep you interested for a while. Now, tomorrow we’re going up to my cabin and I need to know if you know how to ride. Nod if you can.” The hesitant slow nod from the bound, gagged and panting Aggie was his answer. “Well then, we should get you some practice this evening. I’ll bring the saddle rack tower over and we’ll get you into position.” Jack watched blearily as the tall wooden tower was wheeled up to him, and a saddle cinched on top. “I’m going to release your boots, then pull up your breeches and lower your arms, so that you can mount up. No funny business,” warned Brad.
The Aggie man was too stiff and sore to try anything. With the aid of a mounting block, Jack was able to climb onto the saddle. Groaning deeply as he sank down onto his beaten and plugged ass. Brad reached over, pulling the reluctant penis and leather-bound balls and cock-ring out in front of the now dirty khaki breeches and anchoring them to the saddle horn, so that any sudden movement caused the boy pain. He rammed Jack’s other booted foot into its stirrup, twisting the spur inward and, with a thin cord, tying one spur rowel to the other under the belly of the tower and producing audible cries from the leather gagged mouth.
“The old leather poncho should keep your body warm tonight, and I don’t want your sweaty head to catch cold, so let’s cover it.” With that, the ranger slipped the leather wrap over Jack’s shoulders and chest, and then dropped a thick black leather hood over the Aggie’s twisting and resisting head. “Hold still, if you want me to get the breathing holes in place. Now, let me smooth the leather over your eyes and mouth, and cinch it up tight in back.”
Darkness descended on Jack, as the leather closed over his face, blinding and further silencing him, and leaving him swaying uncomfortably in the saddle, with his tool tied in front of him and his ass hole twitching under the plug which forced its way further inside him. His tired arms were now pulled out sideways and the ropes secured again. As he grunted and tried to flex his abused and aching muscles, gloved hands grasped his tightly leathered head, and a hard kiss squashed his firmly gagged mouth. “Get used to the saddle, and don’t fall off. Goodnight, young Aggie bastard.”
Then all he could hear was jingle-bob spurs retreating into the distance, barn door closing and the creak of the leather saddle that imprisoned him. He had missed his roster call, and when his friends realized that he was missing, no-one back at college would know where to start looking for him. He was lost in a new world of leather and lust.
To be continued …
© Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. If you’re enjoying this story, let him know in the comments section below as well as at his website, alex-ironrod.com.
