Category Archives: Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 15

By Greg Alexander

As I dangled from the basketball hoop, trussed up, totally helpless, and in constant pain from the excruciating hanging wedgie, the frat boys proceeded to ignore me completely for the next hour or so, as they fired up the grill and begin to whip up a spectacular feast. The frat boys had given me some dog food mixed with peanut butter for lunch, but I realized, in spite of everything, that I was pretty hungry . . . and of course, suffice to say, no one offered me any of the food.

The frat boys ate burgers, hot dogs, grilled corn and peppers and chicken.

They also made tacos and burritos, and, as if that weren’t enough, someone brought out a massive bowl of beans, which they eagerly began to devour.

During the whole time that they grilled, I simply dangled there, smelling the delicious aroma of food that I was not allowed to have.

Later, as the light began to fade, as the frat boys ambled around the yard and chowed done on their ample food, they began to pay attention to me again . . . much to my chagrin.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 15

Wanted Karl – Part 3

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)

I am left on the floor chained to this post for hours, enduring the abuse of the rubber men around me. I have been pissed on, whipped and hogtied until finally it’s closing time. Tom comes over and dumps a bucket of water over me. “Just trying to wash off some of that piss stink,” he says, and then he frees me from the hogtied position and pulls me to my feet. Dragging me with the chain locked to my posture collar, he leads me, my boots dragging, the leg iron chains rattling on the concrete floor, to a steel door that he unlocks, pulling me into another room. There are several steel frame beds with rubber mattresses, metal lockers between them. The walls are concrete without windows and along one of them there is plumbing for a shower with douche hose, an in-floor squat toilet and a sink. A full-length mirror is mounted on the side wall.

I am shaking with fatigue and nervousness as he removes my gas mask and then starts unstrapping the straight jacket and pulls it off me, freeing my arms briefly, then he re-cuffs them behind my back. It actually feels a bit cooler now that I am free from that jacket. He removes my ball gag, warning me not to speak.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 3

Wanted Karl – Part 2

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)

The night was an agony, my crotch painfully straddling the pipe keeping pressure on the anal intruder trapping my balls and invading my ass, I got no sleep constantly trying to stand up on my booted toes to relieve the pressure but my worn out thigh muscles giving out forcing me to endure sitting down. My jaw aches from the ball gag, my rubber suit is filled with sweat, my arms are cramped in this straightjacket, my posture collar is a torment. I can’t take this anymore. I’ll surrender all control just to get out of this ordeal and this confining gear. I am scared at the thought of what my future will be, but I have to just to be released from this torment.

I don’t know what punishment Mark will inflict on me if he takes me back, maybe as rough as what’s happening to me now, and permanent slavery under his control would be brutal. The other possibility of being sold as a rubber slave to a strange top man frightens me with uncertainty, and I am overwhelmed at the prospect of being anyone’s permanent slave. I am sobbing at the idea that my release can only happen with total surrender to losing control of my future.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 2

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 14

By Greg Alexander

After the ordeal with the itching gel, in fact, as I have explained, I finally began to quickly get most of the feet in the frat down my heart. I lay there, pinned down to the spanking bench, more and more piss flowing through the tube, through my piss gag, and into my mouth as the night wore on.

The screen on my laptop was never inactive for long. Through the grainy video feed, I could see guy after guy after guy after guy take his place in front of the urinal. As the hours passed, and as the beer kept flowing, they started staggering into the bathroom more visibly drunk, their stride more and more lopsided, their every movement more and more inebriated, but still they kept coming. And coming. And coming.

They were mostly frat guys, jocks, athletes, guys with popped collars, guys with backward baseball hats and sun glasses inexplicably still on, even though it was night and indoors . . . the types you’d expect to find at your typical frat party on our campus. I was sure there were plenty of girls, but of course, thanks to the signage the frat boys had left outside the bathroom, none of them were coming in.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 14

Wanted Karl – Part 1

By rts

(written while locked and chained in biker leathers, sweating and restrained, by order of MetalbondNYC)

 

I’ve been in this city for a couple of weeks living in an old industrial section just a few blocks from an interesting leather/rubber bar which is having a rubber fetish weekend starting Friday today. In preparation I haven’t eaten any solid food for 24 hours, and have given myself a thorough clean out. I can’t wait to get into my body suit which is now fully lubed up and ready and get over there. I love this suit, it was custom made for me using a thicker rubber than usual, it has attached feet, gloves and hood, a cod access to my boys, and a rubber grommet lined hole lined up to my butt. It has shoulder entry zips which close over the sides of the two piece hood (the front half of the hood is attached and now hangs down in from of the suit, the rear half down the back and when both shoulder zips are pulled closed to the neck they can then be zipped up the sides of the hood meeting at top of my head and can be locked together sealing me in).

It feels good working my legs into the lubed tight rubber and pulling the suit up my body, working my cock and balls thru the cod piece hole, getting my arms down the sleeves and fingers seated in the gloves finally pulling the shoulder zips closed to the base of my neck, enjoying the tight feeling of restriction the thick rubber imposes on my movements. The rubber wants to return me upright whenever I bend or turn. I have not closed the hood yet as I want to have my shaved head seen when I walk into the bar hoping to attract the interest of any other rubber skinheads.

I sit down and reach for my 20 hole ranger boots, bending against the suit’s resistance as I pull them on and lace them closed enjoying the feeling of being totally encased in rubber, recalling how I got this gear.

Continue reading Wanted Karl – Part 1

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 13

By Greg Alexander

After the ordeal with the itching gel, in fact, as I have explained, I finally began to quickly get most of the feet in the frat down my heart.

As I got better and better at that task, of course, the frat brothers began to look for now excuses to punish me, and began to stress more and more the importance, not just of learning to identify each frat boy not just by licking and smelling his feet, but also by sucking his cock, licking clean his ass crack and swallowing his piss.

Each cock of course had it’s very distinctive own shape, and in time I also became better and better at identifying each one. Some of them were easier than others . . . Bryce’s cock especially was so enormous that it was hard to mistake for anyone else’s. It was a question of identifying which particular way their cocks curved when they were fully erect, obviously whether they were circumcised or not, how much pubic hair they had and how clean they generally kept it, and countless other more subtle sensory cues. Some of the guys moaned softly as I sucked them off, some of them grunted, some of them even w some of them were stone silent.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 13

The Examination – Part 7

By Slavebladeboi

I sat back in the bondage chair and watched. David was all but making love to his brother. The leather restraints that held Brandon to the cross squeaked as his wrists put pressure on them, twisting them in his ecstasy, his brothers hands massaging his nipples and reaching down to gently stroke him to a point of no return. I could see them whispering. David stopped and turned.

Why?

Why what?

Why would you do this?

What?

You fucking know what! You playing with us so when you’ve finished you’ll chuck us back to that greasy, sadistic perv!

I stared at him. It’s certainly not what I had intended but then I wasn’t sure what exactly I had intended.

Is that what you think?

We don’t know what to think. Bran thinks he trusts you. Me, I know better, as does my ass.

Continue reading The Examination – Part 7

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 12

By Greg Alexander

My situation did not improve over the course of the next several days.

By the end of my first day tied down over the spanking bench, no fewer than 23 alpha males on testosterone overdrive had, in the course of that single afternoon and evening, made me worship their feet and suck their dicks, and then, in punishment for my consistent inability to identify even one of them with the blindfold on, much less recite their sports facts, aggressively spanked and then fucked me.

The spanking, in particular, was excruciating. Nothing, nothing, could quite compare to having 23 muscular athletes in rapid succession deliver a stream of unrelenting punishments to my behind. By the end of the day, my ass felt like it had been seared by a blisteringly hot iron, and it felt like a train had careened through my asshole. My legs were frozen in an wide open spread eagle, my ass was as defenseless as ever, and my inner sphincter and prostrate were throbbing relentlessly from the repeated violent large-scale invasions to which they had been subjected over the course of the past 6 hours. My legs quivered uncontrollably, even though I was unable to move them at all.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 12