Check out these images from “Bondage Chair Self Bondage” — one of the many offerings from the guys at Serious Male Bondage. This one features CdnBond, who is one of my favorite subjects on the site. In this one, CdnBond puts himself into the Serious Bondage Chair for some self-bondage. For me, it’s what happens in the video at the 9:45 mark that is most exciting. It’s what I refer to as the “oh fuck” moment. Those of you who are subscribers to Serious Male Bondage probably know exactly what I am talking about. Enjoy your confinement in the bondage chair, CdnBond! You have nobody to blame for your predicament but yourself!
To learn more about Serious Male Bondage, click here.
I wanted to share some of the photos taken of the muscle slave over the weekend when it was out serving as a labor slave on the ranch. The slave was kept locked in a custom metal collar with locking screw and locking leg shackles. The slave’s muscled arms proved too thick for our own locking wrist restraints, so we had to use an alternative set locked with padlocks. After several days working on the ranch, totally naked with the heavy collar, the slave’s neck was very bruised and raw. The slave endured the entire scenario while being beaten with a switch while it was put to work digging out stumps in the rock hard soil of the ranch.
The slave wore the restraints the entire time, even when sleeping, and his salty sweat actually made the metal get rusty in places.
I am sure you and your readers will enjoy the photos.
DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company
UPDATE: The shackles were custom made by BootsNCamo from Recon if readers are looking to order a set.
If you are a well-built muscle slave, you can learn more about DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company by looking up FirefighterSIR on Recon.
Part 10 – Solitary Confinement
The bastards left me out there all night. At some stage during the night the tail was removed and I became the casual sex tool again. At a later stage a urinal hood was placed over the weird hood I was already wearing. It seemed my fate with these guys was to drink an inordinate amount of piss. Needless to say that positioned as I was, with these random acts, I got no sleep.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 10
By Tommy Guns
I awoke the next morning, still hog chained, and with a pounding headache that was beating rhythmically with my heart. I knew where it came from. I still had a raging hard-on, and the lack of blood flow from the head below the waist to the one on my shoulders was creating a problem for me. I had never gone this long without relieving myself, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not get the images of last night out of my head. They kept me harder than I had ever been before, and I was in dire need of release of some kind.
Continue reading Brig Story – Parts 4 to 8
Part 9 – The morning after
My legs were still bound spread when I woke up. My chest was covered in wax. All I could smell was stale piss. My balls hurt like hell and my arse could feel something stretching it. For once I was hooded without a gag – probably a safety thing. I tried to stretch my legs but all that achieved was lifting my body and for some unknown reason stretched my balls.
Continue reading Twelve Days of Christmas – Part 9
By Erik of Roids N Rants
A few hours ago, this afternoon, I was standing in front of a tall 19th-century condominium in one of the most prestigious areas of the town and hesitating whether to enter or not. No one knew I was there, and I didn’t know the man who was going to take me to the deep underground cellar of the old building, tie me up and fuck me anonymously.
Continue reading In the Cellar
“That’s it, keep sucking,” says Bryan, my personal trainer.
I’m on my knees in the trainers’ private locker room at the gym, servicing Bryan’s rock hard cock. As usual when I suck Bryan off, I am totally naked, and my hands are secured inescapably behind my back, locked at the wrists. My name is Rick, and my own cock, which I have not been able to stroke for six months now, is standing straight up at attention.
Continue reading The Motivator – Parts 1 to 3
By Tommy Guns
I remember it as if it was yesterday. It was Tuesday, May 11th, 1971, the day I woke up in the Brig, my hands and legs tightly shackled to the bars at the head and foot of the rack on which I was laying. Most of all, I remember the smells. I was laying in my own waste, dried blood and vomit staining my ripped uniform blouse, and a tear at the knee on the left leg of my uniform trousers. There were the smells of despair and hopelessness, and the scent of cold, hard, oily steel, mixed with way too much pine cleaner.
Continue reading Brig Story – Parts 1 to 3