Bob Smith is ecstatic that he’s finally due to be released from this stinking hole of a prison. But there’s a final inspection to come, and the prison officers have some dirt on him. The power of the guards is always absolute, but the power between the prisoners shifts from one day to the next. Today’s top dog turns into tomorrow prison bitch!
See more like this at CMNM
By Padlocked Slave
I never set out to be a long-distance captive doing humiliation tasks for a strict disciplinarian. For a whole fucking weekend no less. It just sort of happened all of a sudden. And like getting stuck in quicksand, I found after a very short while that I could not escape.
It all started in a rather unexpected way. You see, my big fetish is locking metal bondage — handcuffs especially. But anything that locks really. I’ve spent many weekend hours looking at tumblr feeds and flickr accounts featuring handcuffs and prisoners, often fantasizing of being locked inescapably in a particular set of bracelets. Along the way I joined the CuffClub, a handcuff collectors online discussion group, which is where I first encountered the guy. The site was mostly collectors and law enforcement types. But some kinky people were on there as well.
This guy had posted some pictures of a set of high-security cuffs that were unlike any I had ever seen. They had this special locking mechanism with what looked like a unique key. Sort of like a house key, but for handcuffs. I just had to message the guy about them, and he chatted me up. We seemed to hit it off, and after a while I could not believe my luck when he agreed to ship the cuffs to me so that I could try them on.
But there was a catch.
He said that I would have to lock the cuffs on via webcam while he watched. I thought it was an odd request but hey, his cuffs his rules. He said something like, “sure buddy I will be glad to let you try on my cuffs — but I will keep you busy in them, too.”
I was excited to try on his unique pair of cuffs, and I really didn’t think too much about that comment at the time. I should have. Maybe subconsciously I was turned on somehow. I was also intrigued a bit by his screen name (TaskMaster) but I did not think too much about it before sending the guy my full name and home address. He said I would receive the cuffs this coming Friday and to keep my whole weekend free. What am I getting myself into, I thought. But I did not have any plans that weekend anyway, just some leisure reading and probably wasting too much time online.
He told me to add him on skype, which I did, and he told me I would receive the cuffs via FedEx before the end of the day Friday and that I should meet him online at 9 p.m. local time. That Thursday after work I did not see him online so I poked around on some other sites. For the heck of it, I went over to FetishWorld, where I have a profile but don’t do much there, and I typed in his name. And that’s when I realized that I might have bitten off a bit more than I can chew with this guy. Turns out his screen name matches what he is into — namely giving others tasks to perform! For his amusement. Oh fuck. And not just any ordinary tasks, but time-wasting tasks, humiliating tasks of all sorts. Some involving bets and dares, or games of chance. There were pictures and stories from many of his followers. This was a guy with a huge online following, well known in this particular fetish, which I did not know much about until now.
I thought of messaging him right away to back out of the whole deal, but after entering in the tracking number for the shipment he had given me, it said the package was “out for delivery” and I figured it was too late. Then late that night before I went to bed I saw him log on to CuffClub, and I messaged him there.
“Hey fella,” he wrote, “ready to get cuffed by the TaskMaster?”
I was nervous as hell having discovered his kink side and I told him so, and confessed that I had looked him up on FetishWorld and had some idea of what I might be up for. He told me that I was wise to be scared but that I did not have anything to fear really because all I had to do was follow his instructions and that everything would turn out OK for me. He was friendly and laughing a bit at my uncomfortable-ness. Also he said that I could still back out, by refusing the delivery, and he would get the cuffs back with no hard feelings but then I would lose out on my chance to wear those cuffs. If I accepted delivery, though, I was agreeing to his terms. He told me I was not allowed to open the package until told to do so on cam the next night.
So, with my head spinning in excitement and confusion I agreed to play along with his game. He made me write it out, that I was agreeing to follow instructions as ordered. (I figured if things got too out of hand, I could unlock the cuffs at any time and ship them back to him. He would probably get mad, but I would have my weekend back.)
That night I could not sleep very well, but the next day (Friday) I managed to get home from work a bit early. The package arrived, and it was heavier than I was expecting. I set it aside and had an early dinner, took a shower and turned off the ringer on my phone so that at the appointed time I would be ready.
I logged on promptly at 9 p.m. to the CuffClub site and he asked again if I was ready. He made me repeat our understanding again, that I was agreeing to follow his instructions and that I was doing this willingly and that I agreed to abide by the consequences. I was really nervous, yet excited.
He had me log on to skype and open up a one-way video chat. He could see and hear me, but I could not see him. He had me open the box on cam and I took out the cuffs — an amazing pair of high-security specialty cuffs with an intricate lock. But there were no keys I the box! Instead, there was a small key safe box with a four-digit combination code. The kind of box that realtors use when showing houses. He had me place the key safe on a shelf behind me and told me I was not allowed to touch it without his permission. And then he had me lock the cuffs on. Hands in front.
“There,” he said, “how do you like the cuffs? Are they as fun to wear as you thought they would be?” I told him (truthfully) that the cuffs were awesome and that I liked having them locked on very much. “Well, we will see how you feel about them next Friday after you have been wearing them for a whole week,” he laughed. I did not think that was funny and he could tell by the expression on my face.
“OK, prisoner,” he typed. “The rules for tonight are simple. Do what I say, when I say and how I say, and I will let you out of those cuffs. Fuck up and you stay in them.” I noticed that he was no longer calling me “buddy” or “fella” but “prisoner” now. My heart was pounding fast and I had a big knot in my stomach.
“If you are a good prisoner and follow orders, you might get those cuffs off tonight before bed,” he typed. “But if you fuck up, you stay cuffed.”
“Oh, and you might want to check your CuffClub email right away, because your first task starts in just a few minutes.” With that he terminated the video conference, and I was left, handcuffed, with the key in my possession but out of my control. Back at the CuffClub email page, I got a chill up my spine. There were seven unopened emails from him, all queued up in order with the following subject lines:
Task 1 – Open at 9:30 pm
Task 2 – Open at 10:30 pm
Task 3 – Open at 11:00 pm
Task 4 – Open at 11:30 pm
Task 5 – Open at midnight
Task 6 – Open at 1 am
Open at 2 am
And I knew immediately that I was in for a long night and that whatever he was going to make me do, I had to do so with handcuffs on. At exactly 9:30 p.m. on the dot, I opened his first email to find this simple message:
“Starting immediately, on skype, type my name (TaskMaster) every 10 minutes. Do not be late or miss even by one minute. I want to see an IM from you with just my name, exactly at 9:30, 9:40, 9:50, etc. Go!”
I was still on skype and typed his name as instructed just in the nick of time. Then, exactly 10 minutes later, and while looking closely at my computer clock to be absolutely sure, I typed his name again and hit the return key at 9:40 exactly. Planning ahead to the next interval, I typed his name again planning to hit return when the time came up again. But just to be safe, I opened up the clock with the second hand and waited until 15 seconds after 9:50 to hit return again. I figured the skype clock and my computer clock might not be calibrated exactly, and I did not want to accidentally have it show 9:49. Between the 9:50 send and the 10:00 I went to the bathroom to take a quick leak, but I was back at the computer to hit send at 10 seconds after the top of the hour. I wondered what was in those other emails. I typed and sent his name again at exactly 10:10 and again at 10:20 and looking at the IM chat window I noticed how precise I had been and I felt a bit of pride, but also a dose of humiliation. Here I am typing some guy’s name I never met before, while handcuffed.
After hitting send on the 10:30 message, I opened up the Task 2 email to read this message from him:
“Right now, prisoner, you are hopefully getting the hang of it. But it’s time to increase the pressure a little bit. Starting exactly five minutes from now, you are to type my name every five minutes on Skype — at 10:35, 10:40, 10:45, etc. Go!”
And so I obeyed. Every five minutes, at exactly 15 seconds after 10:35 and 10:40 and 10:45 and 10:50 and 10:55 and again at 11:00 I had typed and entered his name, and there was quite a pattern to it all. The “Task 3” email at 11 p.m. was a bit different:
“OK, prisoner, by this time you are most likely starting to feel the pressure. It’s time to give you a rest. You may go and turn on the TV and watch a program. Any program will do. For the next 30 minutes, just go watch a show on TV.”
I turned on the TV and started watching what happened to be on. (It was a show called “Tattoo Nightmares,” about people who got bad, embarrassing tattoos and who were looking to have their tattoos “covered up” by expert tattoo artists who tattooed new tattoos over the old embarrassing ones.)
Immediately after the show, I opened the “Task 4” email, exactly as instructed at 11:30 p.m.
“How was the show?” he wrote. “What did you decide to watch? Now I want you to write me a summary of the show. At least 300 words. Tell me what happened. Send it to me via return email before midnight. Go!”
So I proceeded to write my report — still wearing the handcuffs it was hard to type — about the guy with the nike swoosh tattoo on his chest which was backwards, who got them to turn it into a tattoo of a computer circuit board. And the woman who had the “born to sin” tattoo around her belly button who got it covered by a tattoo of flowers and butterflies. And there was a third guy who had a big sword tattooed vertically on his back, but the handle of the sword came up onto his neck making it look like a penis on the back of his neck with his shirt on. He got his corrected with a tattoo of a bigger sword but this one had swooshes on the handle so the neck part no longer made him look like a dork. I managed to send my 300-word “book report” on the TV show just before midnight, and just in time to read the next task.
“Starting now (exactly at midnight) and every 10 minutes, you are to type “Thank you TaskMaster for giving me tasks,” which I did every 10 minutes as instructed. I used “copy and paste” for this, but I waited until the exact moment at 12:10, 12:20, etc., before hitting the return key, figuring that would probably be OK to do it that way.
At exactly 1 a.m. I opened the next one.
“Continue to type the same message but every 15 minutes,” and while this was easier it was also harder because it was now after my normal bedtime and I was tired and trying not to fall asleep. I had been handcuffed and “chained” to my computer for more than four hours now and not really sure what to expect with the next email, whose subject line said “open at 2 am” but did not say “task” on it. Maybe this will be an email with the combination to the keysafe? And I will be able to take these cuffs off and get a good night’s sleep? Or? Maybe he is going to fuck with me more. At 2 a.m. exactly I opened the last of the emails.
“OK, prisoner, you have hopefully completed your tasks for tonight. But I will need to check your work when I come back online tomorrow morning.” He had apparently been offline all this time. Maybe at the movies? Or out to dinner with friends? Meanwhile I had been doing all this stupid typing for his amusement, to be checked later. “So you get to sleep wearing those handcuffs,” his final email of the night continued. “Get some rest, as good as you can with those cuffs locked on. Meet me on Skype again at 9 am.”
I was happy to finally have a break. And I was very much hoping that he would be pleased with my work come morning, and that he would let me out of these cuffs by then. Having not slept the night before, I managed pretty well for myself overnight Friday and after taking a bit longer than usual to get comfortable I managed to sleep soundly through the night.
I had set my alarm and was back at the computer, logged on to skype, exactly at 9 a.m. as instructed. But he was not online! At 9:05 a.m., I sent him an IM saying, “Good morning, TaskMaster, your prisoner is here.” And then I realized that was probably a stupid thing to type but it was too late so I just sat by the computer and waited. And waited. I did not turn on the TV or anything, but I did heat up some oatmeal in the microwave and ate that while sitting there. Finally at just after 11 am, he came online and messaged me: “I see you completed your tasks, but before releasing you from those cuffs I will need to check your work. Wait.”
And so I waited for what seemed like eternity but was only about 10 minutes. He wrote back: “Excellent job, prisoner. Much better than I expected. Your report on the TV show was excellent, it felt like I was right there!”
My heart raced and I was so glad that I had performed well. I could just taste the freedom from the cuffs, which was surely imminent, having done as instructed by this strict TaskMaster. After all, he had agreed to release me if I followed his instructions. I was eager to go take a shower and check my mail and go out to lunch.
What happened next, though, made my heart sink.
“But…” his next IM said.
I waited.
“You were five minutes late this morning, and I therefore must punish you.”
Reading this filled me with frustration, fear and dread.
“Stand by for further instructions.”
I tried to explain that I actually was online exactly at 9 a.m. as ordered expecting to meet him, but that I had IM’ed him at 9:05 seeing he was not online yet. He said he believed me, and that it was just too unfortunate anyway and I was really in no position to argue and that it was really best to accept my fate, and that I should thank him and stop complaining.
I thanked him.
About an hour later, he told me to go back to CuffClub, and check my email. More tasks. Seven more! But these were just numbered and not time stamped. The instructions were beyond anything I had contemplated. In the first task, he had me go back into the 300-word report, and count all the times I used the letters e, f and k. In the next I had to count the number of periods and commas. Then I had to go back in and highlight all the e’s in yellow, the f’s in blue and the k’s in red. There were more of these tasks that were even more tedious and it took me until after 5 p.m. Finally, I got to the last task, which was simple yet deadly:
“At exactly 3 a.m., you are to send me an IM on skype saying, “Thank you TaskMaster for letting me try on your cuffs.”
So after dinner with the cuffs still locked on (cold cereal out of a bowl) I went to bed early, setting my alarm for 2:45 a.m. so I could thank the guy for letting me try on his cuffs. He hadn’t given me instructions for Sunday morning, so I got up exactly at 9 am again and IM’ed him exactly at 9 am on he dot this time.
“Good morning, TaskMaster, your prisoner is here.” And finally just before noon he came on and this time, he emailed me the code. I had spent all of Friday night and all day Saturday cuffed and controlled and was finally free again on Sunday afternoon. I took a much-needed shower and went to the diner for some food and then for a walk. It felt weird to be outside. I felt that everybody was staring at me.
Metal would like to thank the author, Padlocked Slave, for this story!
A video at Serious Male Bondage titled “Down To Business” features a guy who wanted to be mummified while wearing a black Zentai suit under a full business suit including black shoes and tie. This is not something you see every day. Once he was in the Zentai and business suit they briefly locked him in a full body cage, but the remainder of the video highlights the mummification and tie down to a padded bondage platform. Mark of Serious Male Bondage writes, “For me, the best part of the video was when his rubber gloved hands were handcuffed behind his back.”
To see the VIDEO of this, go to Serious Male Bondage
Images from Roped Studs
Meanwhile in a Brutal Tops jail cell, Master Edward humiliates and dominates this runt of a sub. The top barks abuse at the cellmate when crushing his dick on the side of a toilet and ordering him to lick food off the floor.
Click for Brutal Tops
By Mister-X/Spartan
Spence pulled Brad into the crowded room. He was looking around to see someone that he knew when he heard someone address him from behind.
“Bind-em-tight, looks like you got a new one.”
“Oh, hi, bcman. How ya been?”
“I’ve been fine, but it looks like you’re doing better. Who’s your new sub?”
“This is my roommate at college.”
“You move fast. I see you’ve already lived up to your name with him.” The guy started inspecting Brad.
“His hands are cuffed behind his back, and there’s leather arm binders on. This is a leather top that has no arm holes that is strapped on. Then there’s this coat that has the arm holes seamed over.”
“He must be really into the scene. How did you get him bound up so tight so fast?”
“He’s got a class assignment to go a week without arms to see what kind of life a double amputee has.”
“Wow, that played right into you. Is he turned on by being restrained?”
“He is, but he doesn’t know it yet.” Brad had been listening into this conversation, not quite following it, but this statement gave him pause.
The guy continued. “Is he turned on by breath control?”
“We both have no idea.”
“Then it’s time to find out.” He felt down at Brad’s cock and saw that it was a good size, but wasn’t erect. Keeping one hand there, he put the other over the two little pinholes in the hood. When Brad tried to breathe, he couldn’t. He was starting to get concerned. He shook his head to get the fingers off, but they stayed there. The guy noticed Brad’s cock starting to get erect, but he also noticed something else.
“Isn’t he wearing a condom?”
“No.”
“He’s responding, but I don’t want to cause a mess. I’ll get one and put it on.”
“Studded?”
“Of course. It’s the only kind.”
The guy left and was soon back. He unzipped Brad’s jeans and briefs. He started to stretch the condom over the end of Brad’s cock, but Brad backed up. Spence said “let him put that on, Brad. It will avoid making a mess.” Brad calmed down and let him put the condom on.
Soon the guy was back, one hand pinching Brad’s nostrils and the other stroking his cock. Before Brad ran out of air he erupted, again with a shout into his gag. Bcman laughed, and said “I’d like to play more with this guy. He’s got a great response. I’ll be back later after he’s reloaded.” Bcman walked off.
Brad felt great about erupting, but he wasn’t pleased about having his air cut off.
Spence pulled Brad out of the crowded room and into a quieter one. He started explaining.
“Brad, you’re probably starting to wonder what’s going on. Some guys are turned on by being restrained, and/or by having their breathing cut off. You are one of those guys. I realized that when I put your arms into those leather arm binders. A lot of our society frowns on activity like that, but for those of us who accept it, it turns out to be a great way of getting sexually fulfilled. I’ll be happy to help you achieve this if you’ll let me, although I don’t want to get involved in cutting your breath off because I think that’s too dangerous. But you’ll have to think about all this, and come to grips with the kind of person you are.”
Brad had a lot to think about. He started realizing that those fantasies he would have, and those dreams he would have, had a reason. He realized that he would get sexually aroused by those, and that he was getting sexually aroused by being restrained like he was. It initially came as a shock, but then when he thought about it, he was surprised that he hadn’t realized it before. And here he was with a college roommate who was the kind of guy who could help him get aroused.
While Brad was thinking, Spence stood aside, wondering what Brad’s reaction would be. When Brad finally came to grips with it, he nodded his head up and down. Spence saw the response, and said “so you’re comfortable with this and want to continue?”
Again, Brad nodded his head up and down. Spence got a big smile, and said “great!” He removed Brad’s hood so he could see. He first took Brad around the quiet room, where there were guys who were bound and were servicing others. He also saw others who were just bound and gagged, waiting. There were small cages in the room, as well as slings and hanging ropes and chains. There was even a little box with a guy’s head sticking up out of it, gagged.
Back in the noisy room, there was other activity going on. Brad started noticing how guys were attired. Some of them were naked, some were dressed in leather, and some were dressed in rubber. A couple of them were completely covered in rubber. Brad wondered what that would feel like. He also noticed a fair amount of metal restraints. He also saw some guys looking at him with envy. It made him feel better, feel like he belonged here, made him want to belong here.
After continuing the journey around, looking at all the various men and devices, bcman came up to them again. He had a couple of others with him. He introduced the others to Spence, telling him that they also were at the same college and were looking for someone who could keep them restrained. Spence told them where his room was, and said to come over any time they wanted and he would accommodate them.
After the others wandered away, bcman again reached down, unzipped Brad’s pants, and grabbed hold of his cock with one hand while he pinched Brad’s nostrils with the other. The condom was still on. This time Brad noticed the studs more than he’d done the first time. That got him excited. It didn’t take as long for Brad to get erect and erupt as it had done the first time. This was partly because Brad’s cock was already somewhat erect before bcman even started.
When bcman finished, he looked at Spence and asked “think he’d be up for another in a few hours?”
“He probably would be, but we’ve got to be getting back. We’re not used to being up this late. We still have to get our sleep in to get to our 8 o’clock classes during the week.”
Spence pulled Brad out of the club and to his car. In the car, Spence removed Brad’s head harness, and asked “what did you think of all that?”
“I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but after your explanation, a lot of things started to click, and I realized that this is a lifestyle I would like, and that is a place where I would fit.”
Spence couldn’t help chiding him. “I thought you wanted to get out of these restraints.”
“I did before. But now I don’t.”
“Want things stepped up a bit at the room?”
“I don’t have anything going tomorrow, so why not?”
Spence locked the head harness back onto Brad and started the drive back to their dorm room. When they got back to their room, Spence pulling Brad by the chain to the amusement of others in the dorm, he first sat Brad down on the chair and put the hood back on. He attached some chains to the top end and the bottom end of Brad’s bed. He then helped Brad to lie down on the bed, still fully clothed except for the coat, and locked the ring at the top of the hood to the chain at the top of the bed, and stretched the chain connecting Brad’s ankle shackles down to lock to the bottom of the bed. Spence went to bed after this, again smiling to himself at the progress he was making.
The next day, Spence kept Brad locked onto the bed all day. Periodically he would come over and start stroking Brad’s cock, getting him to erupt. He had removed bcman’s condom after getting Brad’s morning Woodie off, replacing it with another which he had. Brad was enjoying this, though his arms had long since fallen asleep, what with lying on them. But he realized that he was to go an entire week without the use of them.
Monday morning meant getting ready to go to class. Brad hadn’t cleaned up in a couple of days, so Spence let him out of the arm binders and cuffs so he could do so. But he told him that for the rest of the week he was going to have to get cleaned by Spence. When Spence put the arm binders back on, after wiping the sweat off, he tightened the strings more than he’d done before. Brad noticed the difference.
At his other classes, Brad’s classmates were surprised to see Brad as he was. He had to explain, almost endlessly, about the class assignment, and why Spence was there. When they got to the class in which he was given the assignment, there was some amused response from his classmates, as well as the teacher. Brad was required to get up in front of the class to explain why he was dressed as he was. He wasn’t ashamed to explain that he was restrained, and why he was wearing leather. It was just matter-of-fact. Spence was surprised at how easily Brad was taking this.
The week continued, Brad asking Spence to keep him at night as he’d been Saturday night and Sunday. As a result, Brad was not getting as much sleep as he’d normally get, and had started to drop off a few times. He also had to forgo his usual gym exercises.
Then one night the guys dropped by that bcman had brought over to introduce to Spence. Spence and Brad had just finished their homework. When they told Spence what they wanted, Spence said he’d be happy to accommodate one of them, but Brad would have to accommodate the other. He cuffed the pair’s hands behind their back and had them kneel down on the floor. Spence took his cock out of his pants and held it in front of the one who would be servicing him. In anticipation of getting serviced, especially since Brad would be seeing what one does to do so, it had gotten erect. Spence hadn’t gotten his rocks off in several weeks, so he was ready.
The young guy did a good job of servicing Spence. He was obviously experienced at this. After Spence was finished and had zipped his pants back up, he went to Brad, got his cock out, and positioned him in front of the other guy. This was a new experience for B rad. To get his cock erect, Spence pinched Brad’s nostrils. His cock was now always kept in a condom, and he asked the guy whether he wanted Brad’s condom on or off. “Off, please, sir” came the expected response, so Spence removed it. Soon Brad’s cock was being serviced by the guy, with the inevitable eruption ensuing.
“Did you want to be serviced as well?”
“We can do that to each other, sir.”
“Would you like to remain restrained here while you do that?”
“That would be very kind of you, sir. Yes, please.”
Soon the two took care of servicing each other, taking a second load in the mouth. After they’d finished, Spence removed the cuffs and the pair left.
It was the next morning when Brad was able to speak that he asked Spence about that. “That’s one of the reasons men get bound, to be able to erupt.”
“Would you like me to service you that way?”
“Yes, I would, but I didn’t want to broach the subject with you until you were ready.”
“You don’t have to ask. Just do it. I’ll be happy to service you.”
Spence had finally gotten what he had been building up to. He was very pleased.
Spence kept Brad restrained through the following weekend, even though it was supposed to only be for a week. Both were satisfied to continue the arrangement. Brad was actually getting used to it. Spence took Brad that way to the club that Saturday night. Bcman was there as usual. He was looking forward to seeing Brad again.
“Have you been teaching your new sub about the various ways one can achieve satisfaction from breath control?”
“No, that’s your area of expertise. I’ve been sticking to mine. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, that’s too dangerous.”
“Then it’s time I teach him a few things. Let’s adjourn to the quiet room. I’ve got something set up there.”
Spence wondered how Brad would react to this. He knew what bcman had set up. He wasn’t sure that Brad would react favorably to it.
On the way, bcman had unzipped Brad’s pants and had his hands around Brad’s cock. He noticed the studded condom and was pleased. He was talking as they were walking. “All I’ve done so far is to pinch your nostrils shut, preventing you from getting any air that way. I could also put a plastic bag over your head and tie it off at the neck to achieve the same result.
Another way is to choke you. You could have a belt pulled tight around your neck to prevent you from breathing. You could have a cord pulled around your neck and kept taut to achieve the same result. And then there’s having a noose rope put around your neck and having you pulled up by it. Usually having you pulled up until you’re on the front of your feet is sufficient, rather than going all the way up with you off your feet into the air.”
Brad was thinking about having these various ways done to him and how he would feel. His cock was starting to react to each of these possibilities. Bcman was noticing Brad’s cock’s reactions. He figured that Brad would get turned on by each of them. He took Brad over to one of the hanging ropes, one in which he’d earlier made a noose out of the end. He removed Brad’s hood so he could see what he was soon going to be experiencing. Just the sight of that almost made Brad erupt.
At this point Spence stepped in. “Brad, you don’t have to go through with this. As I’d told you before, this is very dangerous. Something could easily go wrong. The neck is a very vulnerable part of the body. Bcman is experienced at doing this, but even with the most experienced, something can go wrong. Do you want to experience this?”
Brad thought about it. He finally said “I’m obviously turned on by having this done, but I think it’s something that I’d like to experience later, if I want to.” Turning to Bcman, he said “I thank you for the explanation of the various ways, but I’m very new to this lifestyle. I think I’ll first enjoy what I’m experiencing now, and maybe get into your area later, if I feel so inclined.”
Bcman was obviously disappointed, but he said “I understand. I’ll be here when you’re ready. Wait here a minute so I can show this to those other two guys.” Bcman left the area, while Spence and Brad waited there, Brad still looking at the noose, imagining what it would feel like to have his neck be in that.
Bcman soon returned with the two other guys, the ones who had serviced Spence and Brad. They were both cuffed behind their backs and had ropes tightly around their upper arms. They were both clothed in rubber suits which had zippers opened over their tits, and had clamps on their nipples. Bcman had chains looped a couple of times around their necks and had them walking in front of him, occasionally yanking back on the chains to tighten them. He also had a metal prod in the other hand that he would use to move them forward while he’d pull back on the chains. Both their faces were a bright red over their tight gags. When they saw the noose they both let out loud “mmpphh”s and tried to get away.
“Don’t worry my little lovelies, I’m saving that experience for you for another weekend, one in which your cocks are not in chastity, but will be in spiked cock sheaths. You know that you will want to experience that. Just imagine what it will feel like as the rope is slowly being raised, about an inch an hour, for you to savor the experience, your cocks being skewered as you get hard, your breathing restricted by those two little pinholes. The two were both shaking and “mmpphh”-ing into their gags. Bcman prodded them on after giving them a good look at the noose.
Spence had not realized that the pair was that into bdsm. He started thinking about what he could do to them when they’d come to visit. They’d been by a second time earlier today. He also was thinking about changing the restraints on Brad on his bed, making it one long chain pulled taut under the bed which connected the two ends.
Back at the dorm room later, Spence modified his bed arrangement for Brad. He made the change he’d been thinking of doing. He also got some other chains and used them to attach Brad to the bed up and down the length of his body. Brad wasn’t going to be going anywhere that night or the next day. It was the following Monday morning when Brad was let out of everything so he could get cleaned up, get dressed in normal clothes, and get back to normal again. But for Brad, there was no getting back to normal again after this week.
Brad produced his report, talking about all the daily tasks that people take for granted that someone who was without arms would be unable to perform, having to rely on someone else. He also pointed out that the guy’s life was totally dependent on that someone else, and would be dependent on that someone else making many decisions. He mentioned some of the things his roommate had done to him that he didn’t like, but couldn’t do anything about, like starting Friday night and not letting him out. Spence also wrote his report about the problems of knowing what to do and what not to do, what Brad wanted done and what he didn’t, which choices Brad needed to make, and which choices Spence needed to make. The teacher was pleased with both reports. They both made extra copies for each of the class attendees to keep. Neither mentioned the side aspects of the class assignment.
Brad started getting more and more into the bdsm lifestyle, as did the two guys who were now regulars. They all sat together at the cafeteria, and became regular nightly visitors. Spence had three guys to try to satisfy, or be satisfied by. He had everything he could wish for from this arrangement. His problem was concentrating on his schoolwork, but that was a problem anyone would have when they had too much of a good thing on the side while going to school. But Spence was in his Senior year, and didn’t have to worry as much about his final grades, having already qualified for his degree. Brad was only there for a short course of classes to prepare for the field he’d decided on from his time spent in the Army.
Brad never tried having that noose put around his neck by bcman, nor any of the other ways of cutting off his breath. He found that bondage was enough to get him to erupt, and subsequent health classes made him realize that Spence was right about breath control being too dangerous.
Inevitably, Spence and Brad became lovers, and eventually married after they finished college. It all started with a simple class assignment.
The end
Metal would like to thank the author, Mister-X/Spartan, for this story!
By Prisoner805
Booking
It happened. I was in jail. As I heard him turn the key to the door lock, I leaned back on my bunk and felt the cold cinder block behind me. I raised my foot and kicked what must have been the toilet. I extended my foot and was able to touch the wall. AR came back after I had a few moments to rest. AR took off my transport chains and told me to strip. My hoodie, shorts, socks and shoes were gone. He locked them away out of my reach. AR did another search. I had asked to be treated like a high escape risk. That’s exactly what I got. He wasn’t taking any chances.
I had never seen this place before. AR told me that first thing, he’d show me the facility. Still hooded and gagged, AR put me in the rigid collar and cuffs. When that was secure, he took off my muzzle and my hood. Looking around, I stammered “The shit I get myself into…” while I looked on in amazement at where I was, and the state in which I was present there. My cock throbbed then as it does now while I write thinking about it. I was a prisoner for use by a sexual dominant.
AR took me around the facility and showed me solitary, the padded cell, the dungeon, which had every bondage device I could ever conceive of. Winches, irons, floggers, whips, cages…everything was there. I was in for quite a ride.
Earning Privileges
We had discussed that I would have to earn my comforts. I could better my circumstances through sex. Keeping to his promise, AR placed me in what turned out to be quite the small puppy cage. A different neck to wrist restraint went on me. Some call it a fiddle. I call it fucking hell. It held my wrists close in front of me at the end of a short bar that was solidly welded to a metal collar. Between the position it held me in and the lack of height in the cage, there was no way to get comfortable. I let him know it to. He didn’t much care. That pissed me off, but that is what I had asked for.
I was trying to move into a different position, but the lack of height in the cage and the position that the fiddle kept me in left me looking at the floor and my locked up cock. The floor of the cage was showing spots of oozed precum. I was trapped in unforgiving irons and steel cage bars and all I could do was let my cock leak in appreciation. I was annoyed, horny, getting sorer by the minute, and totally exhilarated and craved more abuse.
Eventually, AR realized that the position I was in was not long for success. He took that fucking fiddle off of me, and I got a brief break. I knew he’d want me performing though. I did pullups and situps as best I could inside the cramped space. Eventually, I crapped out though. Panting, I laid down on my back. AR caught me slacking, and was unsatisfied with my freedom inside the cage. He quickly locked my ankles outside the cage in a double rigid iron, and put my head through the cage collar. My hands were cuffed behind me. I was at a seated attention, soaking the floor in more horny sub juice.
This position I could take for quite a while longer and I did. I looked around the room as best I could. There was the steel framed bondage bed. A standing cage. A smaller cage with steel fist mitts and a steel ball shaped helmet. There was a blackout box to keep a sub in isolation. A bondage chair with a strap for every part of the body. There were hoists for suspension, sleep sacks, straight jackets, a wooden frame for whipping, and everything else you could think of to keep a sub on his toes. I was in some seriously deep shit, and my cock was throbbing to the best of its ability in its confinement, just spewing precum. I had 10 days of spunk saved up. My inability to get hard made my ass needy for attention. I had to get relief somehow. I knew what to do. Finally, I asked him for his cock. Once he made me repeat myself in no uncertain terms, AR let me out when I asked to suck his cock. I nervously tried my best to make sure he was happy. He must have been because I was allowed a little more square footage. I spent some time cuffed behind, hooded in the standing cage. Then, I was ordered back to my cell to don my muzzle.
Solitary
With my muzzle in place, AR locked the rigid collar and cuffs on me again. He produced the key to my cock next, and took me out of the belt. “Fucking YES! I’m going to get to cum!” I thought. I was so desperate for some sort of relief from the 10 day load saved up, pressuring my cock to blow.
If you want to drive me absolutely crazy, get me convinced I’m going to cum and then disappoint me. AR knew that. My dub ass had been telling him about it for years. As much of a nice guy as I am, I’m just a dumb jock when it comes time to do something with an impending orgasm. I want nothing more than to shoot as hard and as far and as long as I possibly can. When I’m done, I want more. So, when AR walked me into solitary and locked the rigid iron to the bolt in the cinder block wall behind me and leg irons on my ankles, I knew that I was about to learn some shit. It’s when he left, locked the gate, shut the door, and turned off the light that I started to realize what I had asked for. This was it. Cold solitude, bound and horny in a brick room with no possible hope of escape. No control over any of it. I pulled as hard as I could on the bondage and it wouldn’t budge. I knew that I had spent hundreds of dollars on this iron years ago from Mr. S because it was quality stuff. Damnit, I wanted it broken, right then and there. To my disappointment, it wouldn’t break. I kicked the wall. I even jumped out of frustration a few times. Finally, my breathing slowed, my focus centered, and I thought to myself…
I give up. Fighting this is hopeless. I’m here to submit. I’m here to be of service to Sir. He will decide what is good for me, and he will allow or disallow whatever he chooses. I am a sub. I will take this, and whatever else he puts me through. I can do this. I will do this. This is what I asked for.
The moment I came to peace is the moment my cock stood at full attention. I looked down and saw it drool milky white. Off the tip, slowly reaching to the cold floor. I couldn’t help but flex and cause it to throb. It was the only sexual control I had. At that same moment, a feeling of intense emptiness overtook my ass. I needed a fucking, and I needed it bad. As it turned out, I got nothing for what seemed like about an hour. Just cold, quiet darkness and solid, unforgiving steel. It was perfect.
After a while I was let down from the wall. He continued taking pics of me as he would throughout the whole ordeal. I normally shy away from looking at the camera, but this was my ultimate fantasy come true. Fuck it. I stared him down and told him exactly what I was feeling without saying a word. Then, I was asking him for his cock. I sucked passionately. I was driven to be the best head AR had ever had. I was getting to be prideful. AR had bound numerous subs. I was going to come out on top. I was going to be alpha. When he was done with my mouth, he gave me a moment on my knees, free of the irons, to rest. My sub cock continued to betray me and spew juice into the puddle it had already started when he handed me the hood and hand restraints.
The First Punishment
AR asked me if I wanted a flogging or a spanking. We’ve talked about this. I originally couldn’t stand impact play at all. Lately, I’ve taken a prideful liking to getting a solid flogging, but I still hate spanking. It has always come too hard, too fast. That being said, I wasn’t about to disappoint, and frankly, I didn’t think I should be allowed any choices either. Fully intent to impress, I responded calmly and with cautious confidence, “Both, Sir.” (Drip).
I haven’t yet asked him, but AR must have been proud of my willingness to endure something he knew I hated. He marched me straight to the dungeon and put me under the hoist. “Kneel.” I knelt while he clipped my hands to the bar. The winch turned and I intentionally kept my legs bent, testing the lift and seeing if there was a flaw that I could exploit. (Like I said, escape risk). Like everything else in this place, rock solid.
AR began delivering blows to my shoulders and my ass. Most on my ass hurt like a motherfucker. The shoulder blows were more bearable as I was more used to it. In pain as I was, I could feel the endorphins coursing as I made sure to take controlled, deep breaths. All that got me was more whipping, and more hormones to my mutinous member, communicating just how much I was loving all the terrible shit he was doing to me.
Now AR is a good man and not one to foolishly cross a line. He would later tell me that he’d have given me a harsher beating, but that the truth of the matter is that I’m an anomaly for him. AR avoids married guys like the plague. He didn’t want to send me home scarred up and have to answer to my husband for it. AR is remarkably respectful like that. As a result, that earns mine in return. As it was, when he let me down from the hoist, I was rather red. I could feel it burn, and I was loving it.
After I had a moment to rest, AR told me to stand up. He walked me to the foot of the bondage bed. It’s a huge, metal framed king size bed with a St. Andrew’s Cross built into the foot of it. AR put me in a standing spread eagle while he made some other preparations. So that I wouldn’t get bored, he made sure to clip some clothespins onto my hardwired nips so that my cock would keep on jumping. It felt amazing, standing there with my nips sore and my cock begging for attention. I was really beginning to spin and feel like nothing more than a plaything for AR’s amusement.
The Beating Continues
Another thing I had never done was take a spanking from the security of a spanking bench. Luckily, one was on hand. Trust me, I didn’t want to be spanked. I HATE spanking. It has always, always caused my dick to pack up and go home. It hurts way too much, way too fast when people use tools to get it done. AR, luckily, started with a gloved hand. That, I could do. The pain of his hand landing actually did feel really invigorating. But then he went to the paddle.
It was one of those multi stranded flat leather paddles. He began smacking me with that thing and I literally jumped the bench right off of the ground. It hurt fiercely. I let out scream after yelp after cuss word, and he kept hitting me. The worst of it is when one of the paddle strands missed and connected with my taint right behind my balls. Such a super sensitive area causes immense pain. I saw stars. But was I into it? Apparently so. More dripping and throbbing from the giveaway swinging between my legs. Nevermind that I wanted to be impressive. I was well into my role as a sub by this point. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to be the toughest. I was gonna be the strongest he’d ever Dommed.
Reward and Regret
I had no idea what time it was. No natural light gets into the jail, and I had been hooded for almost all of my time there thus far. I was ravenously horny, and at the same time beginning to lose hope that I’d cum before my release from this place. I was starting to get used to the idea that it didn’t really matter. By that point, I was drunk on hormones and riding high on headspace. I was getting off on the energy of this place and the reality of my predicament.
It got tougher when AR had me lay on a table and cuffed me to it. There, he allowed me my first orgasm. I’ve never screamed so loud and been in so much ecstasy. It was truly amazing. The problem is, though, when I cum, I tend to want out. AR and I had discussed this at length. My dumb ass was quick to tell him that I’d want to be locked up immediately after busting my wad in a manner that drove home my status and situation.
Once I came down from my cum shot, AR got me to my feet and took me to the shower. He took off my restraints and handed me a bar of soap. Ignorant to his plans, I turned on the shower, and was immediately told to turn it off. I turned to see him holding the nozzle of a charged garden hose.
The Prison Shower
Holy shit was that water ever cold. I soaped up as fast as I could. Now what I didn’t figure in is that where we were was a place that gets seriously cold at night. I figured that out 30 seconds later when the ground water came up through the nozzle. I could have sworn it was liquid ice. I rinsed as fast as I could. Seeing that I was free of soap, AR mercifully turned off the water and tossed me a towel. I shook for quite a while with the cold. Honestly, it was pretty hot though!
More Alone Time
I was told to go to my cell. He told me to lock up my cock in my Chastity Steel belt again. Then came the irons. Neck, wrist, and leg manacles all chained to each other. Almost tall enough that I could stand up straight, but not quite. AR brought me to solitary and tossed me in. The doors closed, and the light went out.
I was tired. I was bored. I was a little angry that I was thrown into the hole. Mostly, I was annoyed with myself. As I sat my ass on the cold concrete wearing hard iron in a dark brick cage I could see the head of my cock pushing as hard as it could against the end of the chastity tube. This shitty fucking situation had me trying to get rock hard almost immediately after I just shot a massive, 10 day load. Not only was I convinced that I was crazy. I was convinced that I was living out one hell of a dream.
I just sat and listened to myself breathe. Every now and then, a pulse of my meat would yield a drip of jizz. A puddle collected on the concrete. I knew that I might sit there for a few minutes, or I might be there all night. After all, I wasn’t directly told that I was allowed to cum just now. I might have just really pissed him off, man of few words that AR is. He didn’t say, and I didn’t know. I just waited for him. That was my purpose.
I heard a timer go off and AR walked to the hole door and opened the outer door. He asked me how I was doing. (FUCKING SHIT IS HOW I’M DOING) I thought, but I didn’t dare say it. I fucking wanted out. This brick bullshit sucked. So here’s my chance. I was asked directly to report on my status. 805 tells AR: “Good, Sir.” The door closed and he walked away.
(You cock driven slut. So caught up in the headspace that you’re going to pretend you don’t want out.) My mind thought a thousand different things about why I would not ask him to let me go. The whole time I knew the reality: It didn’t matter that I wanted out. If AR wanted to let me out, he would, and when he does, he will. Deal with it. It must have been another hour that went by. It got really, really cold. I began to shiver. The trembling went on for almost that whole time when AR opened the door again to check on me. I told him that it was cold. He said OK and decided that I was ready for a change.
A Pad and a Jacket
AR spoke well of me and the next thing I knew, I was out of the chains. He brought my leather straight jacket in and I thought about how merciful it was given that I felt so cold. AR took me to the padded cell and told me to get in. The floor was thick padding as were the walls. There was sound insulation on the ceiling. When he closed the door, the padding connected seamlessly. If I were to have woken up in there without recollection of how I got in there, I wouldn’t have known which part was the door. I heard the bolts throw into place and I knew I was sealed in.
I’ve been in padded cells before. It’s not tough to get comfortable. I sat down and put my head against the wall. It was seconds before I drifted. I was exhausted. I was beaten, sexually spent, emotionally twisted, physically tired, and mentally reeling at my own response to this entire scenario. Above all of it, an overwhelming feeling of comfort and security overrode me. I had no concerns at all. There wasn’t any reason I should worry about anything because I was in no position to do anything about anything. I slept for I don’t know how long until AR opened the door and called me to him.
Dinner and Torture Before Bed
AR got me out of the straight jacket and muzzle and called me into the dungeon where half of a sandwich was waiting for me. It was dinner time. I ate ravenously like I had never eaten before. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until my first bite. I inhaled that thing! AR tried to get me into a sleep sack that we decided was way too small for me, so we aborted that and he took me to my cell. There was an eye bolt in the floor so he cuffed me behind my back and took a second set of cuffs to the eye bolt, locking me to the floor. To fuck with me, he put a set of keys on the cot in front of me. I asked him if he wanted me to make use of them. AR said I should, clearly challenging something he thought I couldn’t do. I quickly grabbed the keys with my mouth and threw them to the floor behind me. I picked them up and tried to get them into the keyway on the cuffs. No luck, but I had been slimming down and I was determined. I managed to slip my cuffs to the front. There, I was able to carefully drop the key into the keyway and turn it, freeing myself. AR was both impressed and annoyed.
My punishment for my success was to be cuffed spread eagle to the outside of my cell door. Fuck this: I had had it. I was so fucking tired that I didn’t think I could stand on my own two feet anymore. Once again though, I noticed that my dumb ass cock was sitting there throbbing and oozing. I really did enjoy this kind of treatment. I pulled and jerked on the cuffs as if it was going to do something. All it did was allow me a physical outlet for my frustration. I wasn’t going anywhere without his key or my gnawing my arm off. About 30 minutes must have gone by before AR took me down from there and put me in a locking leather collar and leg irons in addition to the cock lock I wore. He told me it was bed time and locked me in my cell. Mine was the only light he left on, which I’m pretty sure was done to fuck with me. No worry though, the blanket was rough but thick. I settled quickly into a cocoon and plummeted into some of the most needed sleep of my recent life.
To be continued tomorrow …
Metal would like to thank the author, Prisoner805, for this true story!
Straight stud Blake gets tricked into handcuffs, then ends up getting tied up and edged
Sebastian comes up with a plan to bring in a pair of “broken” handcuffs for Blake to look at. Unfortunately for Blake, he’s tricked into wearing the handcuffs as Sebastian calls up Van. Next thing Blake knows he’s bound and blindfolded as he’s dragged into Sebastian’s apartment. The two perverts tie Blake to the wall as they play with his nice hung cock. With clamps on his nipples and balls, Blake’s moans become a mixture of pleasure and pain. Suspended over the bed, they shove dildos in Blake’s hole as they edge his rock hard cock. They flip Blake over and finally milk a load out of his cock before treating him with some post-orgasmic tickling.
To see a free video preview over at Men On Edge, click here.
To see all shoots from Men On Edge, click here
30 Minutes of Torment here
Check out Connor Maguire and Kip Johnson at Bound Gods:
Kip Johnson has been brought in for questioning. Kip tries to weasel his way out of the situation, but Officer Maguire won’t put up with any of his bullshit. Kip’s hands are cuffed as Officer Maguire strips the criminal down and gives him a taste of his own medicine. He whips out his hard cock and shoves it down Kip’s throat before taking him to the jail cell for a beating. The muscled officer beats Kip with the belt before giving him some CBT. Kip is thrown onto the bed to take the officer’s cock from behind, his mouth covered to silence his screams for help. After plowing his prisoner’s hole, Officer Maguire gives him a hot load right on his face before cuffing Kip to the bed and milking his prostate.
Video here.
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KinkMen landing page here
By socalbd
Through all the torments, pain and submission of the weekend I had no idea what day it was when John and Dan were finished with me. Dan and I had dozed off on the dungeon bed and I’m sure I slept for several hours. When I woke up Dan was still cuddling next to me with his hand over my chest holding me lightly. He was naked. At some point he must have stripped off the jeans while I was sleeping. We were facing each other and he had that wonderful smile on his face as he looked into my eyes. I was slowly coming to.
“You are so cute when you sleep,” Dan said. That made me smile and I perked up, leaned in and gently kissed him on the lips.
“We should get you home soon and let you relax.”
“What day is it?” I asked since I had no idea.
“It’s early Tuesday morning,” Dan replied, “so you have all day to relax and rest up before going back to work tomorrow. Are you ready to be released?”
“Yes, and no,” I replied with a slight grin on my face.
Dan looked at me, rolled his eyes and said, “You are such a bondage pig.”
At that moment the dungeon door from the house opened and John walked in wearing only jeans. He came over to the bed and sat on the edge near me taking my hand and stroking my hair.
“Did you two sleep OK last night?” John asked.
Almost simultaneously we responded, “Yes, Sir.”
I looked at Dan quizzically.
“I do submit to John, as well,” Dan responded. I was intrigued by that answer. I guess it never registered that Dan would be John’s sub or slave at times.
“I think it’s best if Dan follows you home, Dave,” John started. “I want to make sure you get home safely after your weekend.”
John asked if I wanted to shower before I left and I actually opted not to shower there so I could shower at home with a nice, long shower under the warm spray. Dan and I got up from the bed. Dan slipped on his jeans, which were nearby. He was going commando. John retrieved my clothes and together we all went upstairs and finished dressing. Dan had what appeared to be an overnight bag on the floor that was closed, which he grabbed.
Dan and I said our goodbyes to John with both of us getting a generous hug and kiss from him. When John hugged me it was extra-long and he took a moment to talk to me.
“Dave, I want you to take some time to think about this weekend. We really put you through a lot. I don’t want you to do anything or try anything that you are not ready for. I know you really want and fantasize about submitting for ten days. You have a taste of some aspects of what could happen. You and Dan should talk about that weekend he wants to do with you. It’ll be very different than this weekend, but just as hard physically and emotionally. Loop me in when you two are in sync.”
“Yes, Sir, and thank you, Sir,” I said.
“By the way, I’m really proud of you,” John said. I smiled.
With that we each left in our own cars with Dan following me to my place.
“Nice place, Dave,” Dan said as he walked in. I tended to be a neat person and tried to keep the place together.
“Thanks,” I responded. “I think the first thing I want to do is shower if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, go right ahead,” Dan said. I gave him a pouty face.
Dan smiled and followed me into my bedroom. He brought what I thought was his overnight bag with him. We undressed each other and went into the bathroom. While the water heated up Dan took his hands and put them on my waist and just looked at me smiling.
When the water was warmed up we got into the shower together and took our time soaping, washing and exploring each other. Dan is such a hot guy I can’t believe he was here with me. I leaned my head onto his shoulder and just held him tight.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“Yeah, I just can’t believe how this is all moving ahead after meeting John. I can’t believe I met you and we’re here together.”
“You’re a good-looking man, Dave,” Dan replied. “I’m lucky to be here, too.”
We finished up, got out of the shower and dried off and headed back into the bedroom. There we fell onto the bed together and just held each other. Dan rolled me onto my back at some point, pulled my wrists over my head and straddled me.
“I bet you wish you had some cuffs right now, don’t you?” I jokingly said to Dan.
Dan smirked and said, “What makes you think I don’t? What do you think is in that bag I brought in?”
“I thought it was your overnight bag,” and I smiled as I said that.
“It is, along with some gear.”
“You’re OK with a little light play after this weekend?” he asked.
“Yes, Sir,” I responded. He smiled over at me.
“We should probably eat first. I want to make sure you have some energy.”
Dan rolled off the bed and put his jeans and t-shirt back on and slipped on the flip-flops he had worn. He was going commando. I started to dress similarly when he stopped me.
“Do you have a tank top to wear?” he asked. I pulled out a tank and slipped it on.
Dan then looked at me and asked, “Should we start now with you being my sub? If so, I’m going to put a chain collar around your neck.” I dropped to my knees and looked up at him and smiled.
He took out a chain collar and a pair of handcuffs from the bag he brought. The collar was locked on first with the padlock hanging in the front and fully visible. He then went behind me and locked my wrists in the handcuffs.
“That should do until we get to some food. I’ll take the handcuffs off before we eat. Where are your keys?” Dan asked. I pointed to them. He picked them up and we walked out of the house with Dan using my keys to lock the front door. At his car he put me in the passenger seat, belted me in and closed the door.
It was a short drive to a burger place. I think I was pre-cumming inside my jeans the entire way.
Once parked, Dan looked over at me and asked, “How much in my control do you want to be right now and in public?”
“I’m good with a moderate amount of control but not apparent to others that might be around us, Sir.”
“Very well, then,” Dan said. “Do as I say. For the rest of the day including back at your place say, ‘Yes, Daniel, no Daniel, thank you, Daniel,’ using my full first name.”
“Yes, Daniel,” I repeated back and he chuckled. “This is going to be fun.”
I leaned forward so he could unlock the handcuffs and then left them on the console. Dan instructed me to take the flip-flops off and walk barefoot to an outside table and wait for him while he ordered and got our burgers.
When he got to the table he put the burgers and drinks down and pulled his across. He started eating and I watched. He noticed I wasn’t going for my burger.
He looked at me and said, “You really are into this submission head space, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daniel,” I responded.
“While we are here in public act normally between us for now other than the protocol I gave you or any specific instructions I give you.”
“Yes, Daniel,” I said and grabbed the burger and started eating.
We talked through the weekend. Dan wanted to know what I liked and didn’t like along with what I thought about certain aspects of the tortures they put me through. I gave him my honest responses but said there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t submit to again. Having to endure some things that aren’t pleasant is a part of the submission process and there wasn’t anything that crossed a limit line.
We had finished eating and were to continuing to talk when he looked across at me and slightly grinned, saying, “It’s a hot afternoon, don’t you think? Take the tank top off. I want to see you shirtless with that collar more readily visible.” I did as he asked and was slightly embarrassed and he knew it. We continued talking for a few more minutes with me thinking everyone was looking at me. I’m sure that wasn’t true as there were other guys shirtless outside, also, but it felt like it. I was the only guy wearing a locked on collar, after all.
In the car I was cuffed again, shirtless and barefoot still. Dan drove us back to my place and once inside he had me kneel in front of him while he sat on the sofa.
“Let’s talk about the weekend I want you to spend with me. But we can do that after a little more play, yes?”
To be continued …
Click for previous part
Click to start at Part 1
Metal would like to thank socalbd for this story!
Metalbond reader Chase sent these pictures of himself in locking metal:
More pictures and a story available here
Can you spot the handcuffs in these pictures?
These bracelets also come in shiny chrome:
Quickcuffed passed along another video. Check it out:
