This picture has been making the rounds on various sites lately. I have no idea of the original source.

If anyone knows where this is or who built it, please let me know!

The builder of this confinement box sent the following information:

How did this all get started? A bondage buddy (BB) was coming to town and we usually have some good, intense bondage — switching out who tops the other. Summer is my busy season for construction, so I was hesitant to commit to more than a half day or overnight. But my body is always stronger and more aggressive in summer, and my hormones more active. So as usual, he talked me into more time.

I started getting much hornier thinking about inescapable bondage sessions for me, and I had some new ideas to restrain and torment him. He asked me to remind him about limits and fantasies. I don’t enjoy pain, but I do like confinement, imprisonment and chastity. Another bondage friend (BDF) was also going to join us for some twisted two-on-one restraining fun. From him I found out that that BB was planning to keep me in bondage the entire time and not let me top him. Fiendish planning like that REALLY gets me horny. So head first I went.

The next email planning effort with BB led to me agreeing to two weeks of self-enforced chastity and then locking into my metal chastity cuff the day before he arrives. By this point my hormones were swimming with arousal and I could be talked into far more than the frontal lobe would normally think smart. Knowing this, BB starts hinting that one of my fantasies about tight confinement in a coffin-like box could come true. All I need to do is build the box — after all, he said, “You have the tools and know-how, so how long could it take?” He was so matter-of-fact and what he said was ridiculously true, so I quickly said yes.

For the next two weeks before his arrival, my hormones were roaring. He has talked me into a longer session, two weeks of not cumming AND talked me into building my own prison — a confinement box. Then he adds a requirement that anytime I work on it, I must be wearing my metal chastity cuff! So I cut, screw and glue together this box, all the while clanking my chastity cuff against it, and carefully plan out my air holes so I don’t suffocate and planning where the eye-hooks should go to allow him ample ways to tie me into it. See where he had my poor head going? Right where he knew my dick would take me — even deeper into something twisted, inescapable, confining and very dark. Of course I realized this but couldn’t do anything but admire him and quickly give into my bondage-greedy instincts. So the next feature coming to my head via my dick was a padded floor on the box so I have no excuse for “sore back” to scream “let me out.” Next my dick (thru a then empty vassel called “my head”) sends a signal to order lots of furniture foam off the web cause it’s cheap at it can be stuffed in on top of me and around me to make sure sounds are muffled, I can’t move and there is constant pressure on me. What a genius dick I have! Oh, but it’s not just my dick that is thinking here, it’s my buddy as well.

He sends an email directing me to get some old boots and screw them to the floor panel of the box so that when I’m inserted, I can be laced tightly to the bottom panel — one-with-the-box! ‘GENIUS’ my dick thought while directing my fingers to search the web for a cheap used pair. Bingo. Boots found, attached and ready for feet — feet that thankfully don’t think like my dick or I’d really be in trouble. Last touches were a hinged lid with two big locking clasps on the opposite side and four carry handles on the outside. Oh, and finally, did I tell you that in the middle of all this dick-induced bondage-box building frenzy, my buddy got me to agree to a two-night session? Wish he had talked to me instead of my dick cause I might not be in this predicament right now.

The metal confinement box photos above were sent to the Metalbond site by Serious Male Bondage, and they were taken at the Dominion BDSM club in Los Angeles (www.dominionsm.com).

Check out these pictures from Metalbond reader Mike of a confinement box built by Redneck Mark:

Redneck Mark (who goes by Bootsncamo on Recon) also built my cage.

Mike says,

Dear Metal,

I notice you have been featuring some confinement boxes on your site. Here is the one Redneck Mark made for me. The large flange on the bottom of the door is for an electromagnet lock. It also can be locked both from the inside and outside with a padlock.

—Mike

Thank for the pics and info, Mike!

By Rubber Dog

Part One – Knock, Knock

Mark stood in front of the door.  Number 34, it said, looked like the right place, it was certainly the right road, it just didn’t look like anything special.  Just someone’s house on an ordinary road.  The only thing he’d noticed about it was the motorbike parked outside which he’d seen as soon as he’d turned the corner at the top of the road and started checking the house numbers.

He didn’t know much about bikes, he didn’t even have a license, but he found them exciting; some bikes just looked hot, and a cute guy in leathers and a pair of motocross boots sitting on a machine like this always got him hard.  So he knew this must be the right house, this had to be the guy.

Still standing by the door, he looked at his watch: 2:56 p.m.  He’d said three o’clock.  Mark licked his lips; his mouth felt dry – he was nervous.  Should he knock now, or walk round the block and be spot on time? This guy had sounded a bit hard on the phone, maybe he’d think early was ‘disobedient’ or something.  He didn’t really go in for the master-slave setup usually, he was more the bondage-buddy kind of guy, but he was so into the session the guy had described he was willing to do it this once.  Cheekily he’d said “Yes, Sir!” at the end of the phone call with a grin to himself.  He thought it just sounds stupid to call another guy ‘Sir’.

He didn’t want to screw up his chances with this guy so he stepped back from the door and continued down the road.  By this point he now wasn’t so sure he shouldn’t just have knocked and gotten on with it.   Despite his nervousness, his dick was semi-hard as he thought over what they’d talked about on the phone.  Some of what he’d said couldn’t be for real, I mean it was just way too intense – you couldn’t tie someone like that.   It was more like he was describing one of those Joe-T drawings you see; horny but just not possible.   Hell, maybe this guy was just jerking off and wasn’t going to be in, or didn’t even live there.   No, he had to live there, the bike was parked outside and the he’d said he was a biker.  But if what he’d described was for real, he was in for it big time.

His cock responded to this and started rubbing on his jeans even more which made things worse still.  Jeans, his old army boots, a plain t-shirt and his favorite jacket – nothing else, no socks, no jock.  “Fuck, it’s 3pm!”  All the second guessing about whether to knock when he was early and he was now going to be one minute late.

He arrived at the house, having run the last thirty yards.  He stood there, checked the number again and knocked.  He looked at his watch again.  Just 3:01 p.m.  He knocked again.  He looked around behind him across the road, glanced at his watch again.  Back to the door, he saw a buzzer.  He pressed that instead.  Behind the mottled glass of the outer door he saw some movement, and then it opened.

Dry mouthed again, he weakly forced out a “Hello.”  This guy was a good six or seven inches taller than Mark, and broader shoulders but about the same age, maybe a year or two older.  But it wasn’t this physical stature, which was clearly superior to Mark’s that he took most notice of – it was that he was wearing the most stunning set of bike leathers he’d ever seen.  Only thing was, they weren’t leather at all, they were rubber, but styled like bike leathers, tailored everywhere out of thick, shining rubber.  He was only a couple of feet away and he could smell it, the heat from the man’s body and the heady smell of the rubber.  Mark’s cock leapt and he looked down at it showing through his jeans.

The guy hadn’t said anything yet, he just looked at the boy on his doorstep.  Mark looked up again, almost thinking that this must be the wrong place.  The expression on the man’s face was set and he just looked down at him.  “Hello…Sir?” Mark said, forcing the words out.

“Better, boy.  Inside!”

Mark went in and just stood in the hallway not sure what to do, or what to say, so he just looked ahead further into the house.  The man closed the door behind him with a thud.  Mark jumped and turned around to see the man grinning at him.

“So, you made it then, boy.  But you’re late”

“I didn’t mean to be…Sir,” he said still finding it difficult.

Then he just came at him, grabbed him by the elbows and turned him around roughly and pushed him against the wall.  Grabbing his wrists, he forced them up behind his back painfully towards his neck.  Mark resisted as best he could, he hadn’t been expecting this but the man was stronger than he was.  Holding him there, his shoulders throbbing from the strain he felt the man come close to his face.

“You will learn to do as you are told boy, is that clear?”

He wasn’t sure what to say; he’d only been a minute late, what was the big deal?

“I said, is that clear, cunt?” he said whilst yanking the boy’s wrists further up his back.

“Yes, Sir,” he said as quickly as he could and clenching his eyes against the pain.

He let go, pushing him to the floor and pinning him there under one knee, he unclipped a pair of rigid handcuffs from the back of his belt and snapped them on the boy in a single fluid movement.  He let them ratchet on tightly so they dug into his skin, eliciting another yelp.  Hauling him over onto his back and crushing his cuffed hands behind, him he looked the boy in the face.  He looked startled and a little apprehensive, but that was good.  He reached up and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“That has to go!”

He grinned down at him, the boy was more clean-cut than he usually got, still had preppy looking neat cropped hair and his jeans looked designer.  Younger too, no more than 24 and nicely proportioned.  He felt his arms and his thighs, all with the boy watching him puppy-eyed, but silent.  He worked out a little it seemed, which fitted in with the cocky attitude he’d had on the phone, full of himself, probably a pushy bottom – well, usually anyway!

“Get up, boy,” he barked at him as he himself stood up.  Mark struggled back onto his front then onto his knees and finally, unsteadily onto his feet.  He was looking down still when he noticed his dick was still hard.  Suddenly embarrassed he looked up at the man to see if he’d noticed.  He had.

“That’s good, boy”, he said as he laughed at the boy’s innocence, “Ready then, boy?”

Mark just nodded and said “Yes, Sir”.

He took the boy by the collar of his jacket and pulled him along behind him through the house and to the back door.  He opened it and started to walk outside, still dragging the boy.  At the step the boy hesitated, unsure about being led around outside, but he was just pulled along with a sharp tug, so he followed.

He led him into a large brick shed at the end of the yard, pushed him into one corner, then turned to lock the door and switch on the lights.

What Mark saw when the room lit up made his jaw drop.  Everything the man had told him on the phone had been real.  At the far end of the room, on a raised platform was a large black wooden box, no more than three feet along each side.  It looked like a giant jack-in-the-box with the top hinged open, thickly padded and lined with rubber.

Several straps, some long, some short, hung from the lid where they were riveted on and indented into the padding.  The outside was very plain except for the glint from the tops of the bolts that held the sides together.  They were serious bolts; the wood must have been an inch thick.

He watched the boy take it all in, and stepped over behind him.

“No going back from this point, boy.”

“No, Sir,” he said absent mindedly, still looking at the box and around the room.  Chains hung from the ceiling almost everywhere, some had shackles attached to the ends, another had a massive metal helmet swinging from it, there was a sling just behind the box, and a stout metal cage on the other side and closer to the door they’d come in through.  Shelves about two feet above the cage had stacks of rubber sheeting or clothing, he couldn’t tell which, and on the wall next to those every conceivable restraint had its own hook where it was stored.

Stored!

Stored was the word the man had used to him on the phone a lot, and he’d latched onto it.  Mark had looked around through the contact mags and website for ages, literally months maybe even a year or more, for someone into just real, aggressive bondage, and long-term.  Most he’d ever gotten anyone to do to him was overnight, and even then he’d had to beg them for it.  He had almost met another guy a few months back, but he’d been more interested in causing pain.  What Mark wanted was good honest bondage, but hard, unyielding, escape-proof bondage for as long as he could get it.  So when this guy said the word stored, his cock wouldn’t let him say no.

At this point the boy turned his head to look at the man who’d roughly cuffed him just a few moments ago, grinned broadly and said “Storage time, Sir?”

He liked this kid’s cockiness, and was pleased to see he’d been right in thinking he was usually a pushy bottom.

“No boy, lights out time!”

“Sir?” looking suddenly confused only to feel a strong hand grip the back of his head and another come up to his face and cover it with a rag.

In one swift movement, he kicked the boy’s feet from under him and held the rag there until he went out.  The boy struggled a bit but only enough to realize his hands were still trapped and that the cuffs were cutting into him.  A few un-aimed kicks and he was out.

To be continued …

Note: This is a story that I found on the Internet, but I was not able to locate the author. So yeah, I am posting this without permission. But it was too hot not to share here.

If you are the author or know how to reach him, please let me know.

—Metal

UPDATE: You can contact the author through his site, Male Restraint Stories. (Thanks to Metalbond reader Kurt for finding this!)

By Rubber Dog

Cold, and with a desperate panic, the boy jolted back awake.  He heard his breath, course ragged breaths.  Darkness.  Cold and damp.  A hard floor, his body aching from laying on it.  His skin was cold.  He propped himself up with his arms, his hands feeling a tiled floor, he turned his head side to side.  Looking.  Nothing.  Panicked.  Where was he?  He’d been knocked out, but where was he now?

Why did he feel so cold?  He moved one hand to his jeans pocket, but just hit skin.  He was naked.  Cold and naked laying on a hard tiled floor, in complete darkness, his head still spinning and clouded from whatever had been on the rag.

He sat up, drew his knees to his chin and pulled his feet in.  Slowly he crept backwards, inching towards something he could lean against.  He found a wall, and carefully propped himself against it, getting himself used to the glassy chill of it down his naked back.  Gingerly he pulled his feet in further and wrapped his arms around his knees, more for safety now than anything else.

Now blinded.  There was a searing pain throughout his head as the lights came on.  He was just dazzled by it.  Shielding his eyes now with one hand and gradually getting used to it from the pitch darkness, he tried to take in his surroundings.  He was no longer pre-occupied with the cold, but just taking things in as best he could.

The room was indeed tiled, white ceramic tiles like a bathroom over the floor and walls.  There was a door at the far end painted white, but with no handle or window.  Just hinges that showed that it opened inwards.  The lights, two fluorescent tubes, were hung from the ceiling which was also tiled.

As his eyes got accustomed to the light he began to notice more about the room; the floor was sloped down towards him away from the door, and his butt was in a grate that ran along the length of the wall he’d backed into.  Above him and to his left was a shower nozzle but he didn’t see anything that would allow him to turn it on or off, and to his right a plain, white stool with a black, rectangular box on the top.

He sat there for a few moments wondering what to do, his head was clearing fast now and the only thing that it seemed possible for him to do was open the box.

Standing up he found he was a little unsteady on his feet, and felt a light headed as he caught his balance.  He held his hands up to his face to rub some life back into himself, wiped his eyes and ran his hands back over his head.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he said out loud.  He felt again all round his head, but it was true, his hair was gone.  All of it.  He looked down at his dick and that was hairless too.  Checking himself all over he realized he’d been shaved everywhere.  There wasn’t anything left, not on his head, his balls, his ass, under his arms, even his eyebrows had gone.  This was going way too far.  Pushing the box off the stool he sat down and just held his now skin head in his hands and thought and tried to imagine how he could get out of this.

For a few moments he sat there cursing himself and beating himself up for letting his dick get the better of him and landing him in this situation.  But then the box had looked hot when he’d seen in five minutes ago, or however long it now was.  It must have taken ages to shave him down like this.

“Maybe this is the storage”, he sneered to himself, angry that he’d fucked up.

“I can’t get out, I guess I am trapped in here.”  He got up and paced over to the door to see if he could get it open.

Banging as hard as he could on it, and after trying to shoulder it open for a while, he realized it was useless.  Try as he might it didn’t budge.  It felt too solid for him to force against its hinge and out.  Now, rather than just trapped, he was trapped and sore.

Almost in anger he was about to pick up the stool and throw it against the door, when he noticed that the box he’d pushed off it had come open on the floor.  Picking it up, its contents fell out around the stool.  Casually discarding the box in the direction of the door, rather than throwing the stool at it as he’d intended, he bent down to pick up each of the things that had fallen out, his curiosity now held firmly by what he saw: several pieces of plain and quite thin rubber clothing.  Looking at each he felt his dick begin to grow hard again.  There was a pair of rubber jeans, with a zip around the crotch, which fascinated him, a long sleeved t-shirt, and gloves.  He held each of them up in turn, looking at them, turning them over in his hands and just feeling them.

He needed no further prompting to know what he had to do; carefully he pulled each item on.  First the top, down over his head, and snapping into place over his chest.  He wriggled it down his back and then set about straightening the arms so that it fitted over him perfectly smoothly.  He hated it when he saw rubber guys out at the bars, who had just thrown their kit on sloppily, he always took his time and got rid of all the creases before polishing it up and going out.  Anything to show off his gym-toned body better deserved spending time on.

Next were the jeans, he had thought these would be tough without any talc or lube, but actually since he now had no hair on his legs it was quite easy, and the feeling of the rubber that close to his skin was amazing.  So tight, and snug, cooling one moment, only to be warmed the next as his skin heated it up.  Right then and there he decided he’d always keep himself shaved, how could he have missed out for so long on how great this felt?  Pulling them up all the way he then couldn’t decide what to do with his by now achingly hard dick.  Point it straight up, or down a leg?  Getting too tempted to stroke it, he just shoved it down the front and pulled the jeans up to meet the rubber top.  He wished there was a mirror he could look at himself in right now.

Lastly, the gloves; they were quite long and tight so they made a good seal with the sleeves of the top when he pulled them on.  Now he was all set.  But all set for what.  He sat down again and started to feel stupid that he’d just played around getting the rubber on when he should have been trying to get out.

Then the door then opened.  It swung wide open, and he saw the man standing in the door frame.  He still had on his rubber biker gear, and still looked just as hot.

“Here, boy!”

Instinctively he got up and ran over to him and knelt down in front of him.  He felt the man’s hand rest on his smooth head and rub it around.

“Doesn’t that feel better now, boy?”

“Yes, Sir”

“This is how you will keep it from now on.  Slaves don’t merit hair.  And you are a slave aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I am, Sir”

“Say it boy, tell me what you are boy.”

“Sir…,” he stammered still unsure, but then he took a deep breath, let it out slowly then, with his Master’s hand still on his head, he continued, “i am a rubber slave boy, Sir, your dog boy, Sir.”

He laughed a little, not in ridicule, but just at the pleasure of hearing the boy say it.

“You’re a dog are you, boy?”

“Yes, Sir”, now feeling embarrassed that he’d maybe been a bit too enthusiastic, “i mean if that is what you want Sir, yes, Sir, i think, Sir.”

“That’s alright. Boy,” he laughed again at the boy’s quickening enthusiasm.  This was going to be fun.  He took his hand away and brought it back with a wide leather collar which he buckled around the boy’s neck.

“Follow!”

He pulled the boy from the room, on two legs, but he’d learn eventually, back in the main part of the shed  with the box.  As he led him around it, he felt the boy pulling slightly towards it, clearly wanting to get a better look at it.  He’d get a much closer look soon enough, he thought as he smiled to himself, bringing the boy to the far end of the room by the cage.

The cage had four heavy duty rings welded to the top side that were usually used to suspend it from the ceiling, but with the cage down on the concrete floor they served equally well as anchor points for boys being prepared.  He pushed the boy against it, his waist just level with the top, and then forced him to bend forwards across the cold iron bars.

As he moved around to the far side, away from the boy, he could see the goose bumps come up on the back of his neck down to the rubber as the cold from the bars crept through his new skin.  Pulling each arm roughly he buckled the slave’s wrists into restraints already waiting at the ends of two chains from the rings furthest away from where the boy was bent over the cage, he’d shorten those later, but for now he just needed to get him fixed into position.

Down by the slave’s bare feet were two similar restraints, he held the boy’s feet firmly as he attached the leather straps tightly, feeling the boy gently shivering.  With this done, he then unclipped the wrist restraints and dragged the boy’s arms as far as they’d go and re-attached them to the chains, thereby stretching the boy taut over the cage.

Mark had his head looking down into the cage between his out stretched arms, resting on the bars.  He looked at the leather covered mat lining the inside of the cage and wondered who had last been in there and what had happened to them.  He could make out smudges of lube on the leather from where a slave had sat with something up his butt.  His cock twitched.

Standing behind the boy he took hold of the zip on the jeans and slowly drew it open, first down along the boy’s ass then all the way forwards letting his dick hang out.  As it fell out, long clear ropes of precum connected it back to rubber, and it hung there pointing straight ahead through the cage towards the boy’s shoulders.  His balls were a good size and hung there responding with slight movements as the boy’s dick occasionally dipped and twitched.

Taking two lengths of rope, he wound each round the slave’s legs just below the knee, making 4 turns on each.  Tying a good strong knot to prevent the loops slipping, he then tied off each piece of rope to the side of the cage, pulling the boy’s knees wide apart and effectively holding them rigidly to the cage.  This left everything hanging freely and spread his butt cheeks well.

He stood back; a Kodak moment perhaps?  The turns of the rope, white against the glossy black of the rubber looked hot, and the small movements the boy was trying to make to ease the strain on his legs forced into that position were quite cute.  Not quite ready yet, though.  He always used the same rope, magician’s rope, which was all cotton without any nylon core which ensured the knots never slipped.  He tied a further length of rope around the boy’s balls, tugging them firmly with a couple of turns of the cord, and tying it off with a short length.  As he handled the slave’s balls, the boy let out some gentle whimpers, clearly very turned on by being restrained, and bead after bead of precum now flowed out of his cock down the rope of older precum that had been attached to the rubber.  Some of it got on his hands, and when he put them under the boy’s nose he started licking it off slowly but completely, savouring every moment of it.  The boy clearly wasn’t confused about his role anymore!

“Good boy, good boy”, he said softly.

When he’d licked it all off he thanked his Master dutifully with the meekest voice he’d ever heard.  But the boy had to take pain as well as pleasure, so what happened next probably came as a rude awakening.  He cupped his tied off balls in one hand, the other still being licked even though it was already more than clean, and then mid-lick, squeezed hard.  Instantly, the boy tried to double up from the pain as it built up in the pit of his stomach, but he couldn’t and simply slammed his head into the bars.  It’s good when a boy’s instincts cause him more discomfort.

He was obviously trying to get up off the cage as his feet were working back and forth as though trying to stand up.  But he wasn’t going anywhere; he started to howl and then he started to plead.

“Aahh, let go!”

“Let go of me!”

“Aarghhh, please, Sir, please don’t, Sir!”

He let go, but not before squeezing just a bit harder which made the boy jolt and yelp wonderfully.  He sagged back onto the cage, no longer trying to get off, his cock still standing out proudly, but the rope of precum had come off and there was now a pool of it just inside the cage on the mat.  He pulled the rope round the slave’s balls back, making them stick out behind him and pointing his dick straight down.  He saw his body tense, anticipating what was to come next.  He tied the rope off to a hook on the wall, fixing his slave’s genitals in that position and then stood alongside his stretched out body, running his hands up and down the boy’s back and then his head.  Just watching his slave.  In a few moments the boy turned his head to look at his Master, wondering why nothing had happened.  Then a few more minutes passing, the slave getting daring, and starting to push back and pull forward as much as he can to try and get some leverage on his cock.

Out of the sight of his boy, he reached up to the shelves above the cage and rooted around for something.  This much the boy could now hear, but could not turn to see what it was.  His movements, as limited as they were, became more inquisitive and adventurous as he determined to twist enough by some means in order to see what his Master was doing.

Then he found it and brought it down in front of the boy’s face, but just out of reach.  The boy saw it and immediately clamped his mouth shut, whimpering and trying to pull his head as far away from it as possible.  The gag was the size and shape of a small fist and made out of solid black rubber.  The shape was a little strange, but the boy quickly recognized that this was meant to fit snuggly within his mouth completely.  But the degree to which it would obviously have filled his mouth, and stretched his jaw had it been held closed around it wasn’t the bit that frightened the boy; it was the thick tube that ran through the gag, going an inch further inside its victim, and hanging out about a foot on the outside.  Surely if that went in him he’d spend the whole time concentrating on keeping his gag reflex in check, or he’d be in serious trouble.

The boy was adamant that this gag was not going in him, but his Master had expected this and from where he was standing alongside the boy, with the gag held in front of his face with one hand, he brought the other down firmly on the boy’s tethered balls, eliciting an immediate and pitiful scream.  But it was short lived of course; no sooner was his head thrown back in pain, and his mouth opened to scream than the gag was deftly shoved in.

Realizing his position, the boy fought hard to push the gag back out, but his tongue was held down firmly in the bottom of his mouth by the sheer bulk and shape of it.  Now he really did start to panic, trying desperately to writhe out of his bonds and kick himself away from the cage over which he was securely stretched, but he managed only to pull on his arms painfully and slap his dick against the cold bars of the door of the cage between which it was still pointing straight down and steadily leaking precum despite his fear.

He was unable to think properly now, scared of what was happening to him.  He was fighting with the desire to trust himself in his Master’s hands, and the will to curl up and protect himself.  Knowing what the boy was going thought, he spoke soothingly to him, calming him down, reassuring him.  Still though, the slave was gulping air in hard through the gag’s breathing pipe, almost choking it back out again, spluttering flecks of spit out with every exhale, but gradually getting used to its feeling in his mouth and towards the back of his throat, fighting back the urge to vomit it out.  But he would have to cope; it was in there to stay now.

But he wasn’t finished with the boy yet.  Sooner or later he would be able to get the gag out if just left as it was, so he reached for a hood, thick rubber and almost rigid, which he began to peel down over the slave’s head.  At first the boy thrashed around anew from this, but a couple of similar, sharp slaps to his balls brought him back into line quickly.  Within a few moments, he was able to continue pulling the hood down over the boy’s naked head, with only the sound of his breathing, now hard again and the gentle rise and fall of his back as his chest pushed it up and down.

The hood found its home with a snap and fitted around his head perfectly.  Although made from thick rubber, it was shaped and molded at the front so that the boy felt his chin slip into a dip which might almost have been made to fit it exactly.  The only holes in the hood were those through which his head had been pushed, and which now lined up with the high collar of the rubber top he already wore, and a round grommeted hole in the front through which his breathing pipe was threaded.

The hood effectively fastened the boy’s jaw closed, tightly compressing it into the gag inside his mouth, the result being that not only was the boy’s head covered in rubber, but it was virtually completely filled with it as well, wherever possible.  He patted the boy’s head through the rubber and was pleased to hear a couple of pleasant sounding puppy moans come from within, made slightly metallic sounding from the passage of the sound through the wide breathing tube.

If the boy had had a moment to consider what had gone before, he might have known what to expect next, but as it was he was busy relishing the feeling of the rapidly warming rubber now encasing his head and isolating him to a large extent from the sights and sounds of the outside world, the world within his Master’s playroom.  Often with rubber hoods, once on he could still make out shapes and bright lights as the rubber was stretched tightly over his face, but not with this one, it was just darkness.  No shadows of the bars, or sparkles from the overhead lights reflected off the metal and rubber around the room which had filled his field of vision only a minute ago.

In an instant he was brought back to reality as he felt ice cold lube being rubbed against his exposed, and vulnerable butt, his Master’s fingering expertly pushing in then letting them slip out, rubbing the lube around and in, and over and then adding more, pushing it in a little further.  The boy’s mouth fell dry and he caught himself only just in time before gagging on the tip of the gag’s tube attempting to tickle the back of his throat.  How could he concentrate on everything that was going on, how could he cope with the gag, his now aching legs and tightly rubbered body?  Only his dick, his balls and his now well lubed ass were free of rubber, save for his feet now getting colder by the second as they rested on the harsh concrete floor.

Then nothing.  His Master’s touch had gone, no feeling.  Nothing was touching him, except the steel of the cage and the ropes that bound him to it.  Unused to the thickness of the hood and the effect it had on his ability to listen, he brought his head up and cocked it slightly to one side, intent to listen for any clue of what had happened to his Master.

And then he knew.  Pushing firmly at his ass, he felt the tip of a plug.  Trying to relax and push back as he could, he wanted to get it in him, just begging to be touched.

Master turned the plug slowly, rotating it, pushing against his boy’s eager hole, watching him greedily trying to get onto it.  Then pushing hard, allowed the first of the plug proper to enter the slave.  The shape of the plug was of three bulbs, each larger than the next, making the whole about 8″ long and 2″ at its widest.  As the first bulb slipped in, the boy clearly enjoying it, he lifted his head a little, softly whimpering in pleasure, and perhaps thinking that this was the extent of the plug.

He turned it again, and then turned it the other way, enjoying the sounds this produced from the excited slave boy.  But now pushing again further in, which caused the boy to draw in air quickly through the tube and suddenly open his hands, pushing his own head down into the bars, a picture of concentration.

Smearing more lube around the part of the plug still outside, he turned it faster now, but kept up the pressure inwards.  The second bulb had not yet gone in, but he felt that only a little more pressure separated that moment from now.  He kept the boy at this point, wanting more and being stretched, eager and greedy to get it in.  He let the moment linger, turning the plug the other way, keeping the force just short of ramming the second bulb in.  And then he let it go, he pushed it, pushed the second of the three bulbs in and stiffened himself from the yelp that the boy tried to let out.

But he wasn’t through; without letting the pressure up he slammed the third and final bulb into the boys now well stretched hole without giving him a chance to get his breath from the shock of the size of the second.  As soon as it was shoved home, the boy’s muscles clamped quickly around the narrow neck of the plug, cruelly making his body keep it in by itself.  With the boy’s limited movements, this created a moment of near total panic for him.  But it got the worse of that ordeal over for him quickly – a luxury he would have less of when he would be moved to the box.

Whilst the boy was trying to recover from the pain of the intrusion into his ass, his Master busied himself untying the boy’s balls and packing everything away again under the rubber jeans.  If the boy composed himself quickly enough, he would try and force the plug back out to a more comfortable point.  But this wasn’t going to happen!  The zip was closed, trapping the plug inside him with no way out.  He pushed the boy’s painfully swollen dick awkwardly down one leg, adding its own lubricant to the sweat already building up there.

He looked at his rubbered slave boy, admiring now how much he was already transformed from the preppy sub that had knocked at the door, to a whimpering, aching, and cum-hungry dog boy ready for the box.  Well almost ready, he had his first skin of rubber on; but this was too thin and delicate to have any straps or restraints placed directly over it.  The main rubber suit, key to holding the boy in storage had to go on next.

To be continued …

Note: This is a story that I found on the Internet, but I was not able to locate the author. So yeah, I am posting this without permission. But it was too hot not to share here.

If you are the author or know how to reach him, please let me know.

—Metal

UPDATE: You can contact the author through his site, Male Restraint Stories. (Thanks to Metalbond reader Kurt for finding this!)

By Construction Worker

Stuck again.

It seemed like EXACTLY what I wanted…. what I fantasized about.   Now all I can do is calm myself to keep the heat from building and becoming suffocating.  But if I do that, I lose the hormones that allow me to withstand being locked in with no say on when I get out.  Calming like this and being so warm and secured, I keep falling into that stage of pre-sleep where just about anything jolts you awake.  Like NOW… Many thoughts flash in only a couple of seconds but are as clear as those in a very slow motion video.  And it’s a video that keeps looping interminably!!!    I let myself get horny by enjoying the predicament but then overheat and have to calm way down to the point of haze-sleep where I awaken with the need for a deep breath realizing all the ways I am so tightly confined and miserable cause I’m not horny.  Gotta let myself get horny.     LOOP….AGAIN.   How many times has this loop played and how long will it continue? More importantly…how much longer can I take it?

I’m now in that “Need to get horny” part of the loop so I don’t freak out from being so tightly trapped.  So I review the start of this current predicament.   Remembering the very secure but comfortable feel that Arms-down body harness cinched tightly round my torso with biceps and wrists locked to it and straps going thru the crotch to prevent any loosening.  Something like 9 locks clicking before it was finally installed.  Could barely hear the locks click with the ear plugs and hood muffling the sound but there was an intentional pulling on each of the locks just after it was clicked shut.  No way out.  But then the unnecessary and somehow still unsettling shove of thick leather fist mitts onto my hands.  And the click and intentional tug on the fist mitt locks.  No way to touch my own body or any of the restraints…just useless stubs of leather attached to my wrists.  Now I am laid into position on the padded bottom panel.    Legs are quickly cinched together with belts…quickly as if I might be able to somehow remove all 11 locks, the mitts, the harness and hood, gag and jump up and wrestle my captor to the floor?!   Those thoughts always cross my mind, but quickly disappeared this time.   Back to the leg belts that also have D-rings on them…. something connects those leg belts tightly to the sidewalls.  So I can’t separate my legs and can’t move them sideways or up/down.  Feet are tightly laced into boots that are screwed into the end panel so can’t move them even a fraction of an inch.  Can’t twist them at all…. that is sooooo intense.  Who would screw leather boots onto an end panel to create such perfect immobility yet with perfect comfort…. Oh,Yeah, I was the fucking horny idiot that did that!  While remembering how all this restraining was happening, my greedy cock  surged to life and now comes the inevitable expansion and restriction within the chastity device.  And as always comes the thought “why does this cock restriction make it react all the more aggressively?”  “Why can’t it learn to just stay semi-hard and enjoy the bondage ride?”

And that thickly padded hood is laced tight enough to make it feel like a second, stronger skin…one that should be kept on for eternity cause wouldn’t it feel uncomfortable to lose our skin?   Yep, that’s another sign that I have sunk deeply into a greedy bondage state.  Back to remembering how I got in here…..SHIT, he adds even more to my already enclosed and restricted head….must be construction type headphone protectors so NOW  I can’t hear anything cause of foam ear plugs deeply inserted AND external hearing protectors over the top of my hooded ears.  SHIT… not even a faint sound coming thru!!  Sends a shudder thru my immobile body.  No light either as my eyes had medical eye patches over them for many hours plus that leather hood cuts off all hints of light.  I can’t turn my head even a bit as the tall leather posture collar is very stiff and very tightly buckled … and locked… and fastened to the side-walls.  And then he adds ANOTHER restraint to my head…is that possible!?!!   It is some kind of wide strap with D-rings and he attaches those to each sidewall.   As my mind leaps to all of these restraints and devices, my cock surges again but has nowhere to go.  It’s still pointed helplessly downward and frustratingly crammed into a very short chastity device that has been on for a very long time.   DAMMM… all of this gear and confinement and I can’t even get myself off or even get close to orgasm.   Only a constant swelling pressure against the chastity tube.

My aching/cramped cock forces me back to the present…. I can feel the heat building from this last loop of getting myself horny thru the replay of how I got in here.   But all my head can currently think about is how I can’t do anything with my dick.   I JUST NEED TO MOVE A LITTLE BIT!!!   So how about adjusting my body just a bit for comfort or to feel something different?   Trying to heave my body up off the padded bottom panel, I can actually move a half inch with huge effort and all muscles pitching in.  The thick foam on top of my body compresses reluctantly and pushes up against the lid and I can imagine that I hear a faint straining of metal latches that are holding the lid tightly closed.  This sends a frantic set of thoughts thru my head AGAIN:  Completely trapped.  Deeply compressed in thick foam.  Seeing only blackness, hearing nothing, with a heavy leather hood, and all parts of my body attached tightly to all four sides of THE BOX!!!!   Even shifting a fraction of an inch takes HUGE effort and creates lots of heat.  And my dick reacting to it all with a continued surge of aggression within it’s own prison.  And the only function of my brain is to send all of this stimulus direct to my dick which makes it surge all the harder.

Now I’m so hot and tired I must calm in order to cool down.  No panic (yet) as generally I like very deep bondage, but I never thought about this LOOP.  Horny thoughts & sexual frustration =====> lots of heat =====> tremendous effort to calm down =====> entering a half-sleep =====> awaken a few minutes later ====> prevent panic by conjuring horny thoughts -====> LOOP AGAIN  =====> AND AGAIN=====> while trapped in this box I built.

NOTE: To read about how the author built the confinement box described above, click here.

This picture has been making the rounds on various sites lately. I have no idea of the original source.

If anyone knows where this is or who built it, please let me know!

The builder of this confinement box sent the following information:

How did this all get started? A bondage buddy (BB) was coming to town and we usually have some good, intense bondage — switching out who tops the other. Summer is my busy season for construction, so I was hesitant to commit to more than a half day or overnight. But my body is always stronger and more aggressive in summer, and my hormones more active. So as usual, he talked me into more time.

I started getting much hornier thinking about inescapable bondage sessions for me, and I had some new ideas to restrain and torment him. He asked me to remind him about limits and fantasies. I don’t enjoy pain, but I do like confinement, imprisonment and chastity. Another bondage friend (BDF) was also going to join us for some twisted two-on-one restraining fun. From him I found out that that BB was planning to keep me in bondage the entire time and not let me top him. Fiendish planning like that REALLY gets me horny. So head first I went.

The next email planning effort with BB led to me agreeing to two weeks of self-enforced chastity and then locking into my metal chastity cuff the day before he arrives. By this point my hormones were swimming with arousal and I could be talked into far more than the frontal lobe would normally think smart. Knowing this, BB starts hinting that one of my fantasies about tight confinement in a coffin-like box could come true. All I need to do is build the box — after all, he said, “You have the tools and know-how, so how long could it take?” He was so matter-of-fact and what he said was ridiculously true, so I quickly said yes.

For the next two weeks before his arrival, my hormones were roaring. He has talked me into a longer session, two weeks of not cumming AND talked me into building my own prison — a confinement box. Then he adds a requirement that anytime I work on it, I must be wearing my metal chastity cuff! So I cut, screw and glue together this box, all the while clanking my chastity cuff against it, and carefully plan out my air holes so I don’t suffocate and planning where the eye-hooks should go to allow him ample ways to tie me into it. See where he had my poor head going? Right where he knew my dick would take me — even deeper into something twisted, inescapable, confining and very dark. Of course I realized this but couldn’t do anything but admire him and quickly give into my bondage-greedy instincts. So the next feature coming to my head via my dick was a padded floor on the box so I have no excuse for “sore back” to scream “let me out.” Next my dick (thru a then empty vassel called “my head”) sends a signal to order lots of furniture foam off the web cause it’s cheap at it can be stuffed in on top of me and around me to make sure sounds are muffled, I can’t move and there is constant pressure on me. What a genius dick I have! Oh, but it’s not just my dick that is thinking here, it’s my buddy as well.

He sends an email directing me to get some old boots and screw them to the floor panel of the box so that when I’m inserted, I can be laced tightly to the bottom panel — one-with-the-box! ‘GENIUS’ my dick thought while directing my fingers to search the web for a cheap used pair. Bingo. Boots found, attached and ready for feet — feet that thankfully don’t think like my dick or I’d really be in trouble. Last touches were a hinged lid with two big locking clasps on the opposite side and four carry handles on the outside. Oh, and finally, did I tell you that in the middle of all this dick-induced bondage-box building frenzy, my buddy got me to agree to a two-night session? Wish he had talked to me instead of my dick cause I might not be in this predicament right now.

The metal confinement box photos above were sent to the Metalbond site by Serious Male Bondage, and they were taken at the Dominion BDSM club in Los Angeles (www.dominionsm.com).

Deep in the catacombs at Bound Gods, Brian Bonds is trapped in a shipping crate with only his head and cock exposed. Leo Forte needs no other equipment to administer his punishment. He covers Brian’s mouth and stretches his balls to the limit. Leo pulls him out of the crate and continues to test Brian with a hard chest punching. Suspended upside down, they 69 and Leo works his nipples. Next Leo throws him down and choke fucks him, tightening up his ass until Leo blows his load all over Brian’s face. He cleans the captive off by dousing his exhausted naked body with the hose. The stud suffers some more as Leo pulls the wet rag tight against his face, making him gasp for air. Leo makes Brian cum and leaves him in the damp and barren basement.

This is a previous update from the Bound Gods vault, featuring Brenn Wyson, Brian Bonds and Leo Forte

To see a preview video, click here

General information about Bound Gods here

Join Bound Gods here

Information on upcoming LIVE SHOOTS here

These pictures of a homemade bondage box are from Sir Bart and Sir Dart (Recon screen names 1intobondage and DartsDomain, respectively)

Sir Bart writes,

I’ve had many inquiries about the Box. I built it a few years ago when I first started dating the man I would marry. He wanted to be able to lock me away in a box, and (being the bondage McGyver I am) I decided I wanted such a thing to be both ergonomic and very secure — and a bit evil, because the idea of it all just turned me on. A lot.

I started with a cherry shelving cabinet that I already had but no longer used. It was unusually deep, but not deep enough for the job. I cut it up and began modifying it, increasing the depth and reinforcing it with another layer of wood inside. I had no idea if this was going to really come together or not. Most of the added wood I had on hand, but all the hardware, screws, wood glue, padding and covering, wheels, etc cost far more than I expected. To reproduce this would cost a small fortune now.

It took me about three months of nights (and occasional weekends) to complete.

We still play with it often— it has a lot of miles on it now but its still solid as a rock. It’s built like a safe, there simply is no escape once strapped inside and the closure pieces padlocked in place. It’s impossible to move more than a half inch or less in any direction, yet the seating position and padding make it very sustainable. We use it mostly with electro play, and fighting against all the restraints as hard as I can simply wears me out, yet the Box remains completely unyielding.

And Sir Dart writes,

Way back when, I had seen a wooden box like this appear in Bound and Gagged magazine, and dreamed big time I could experience it. As you can see from Bob Wingate’s post, the dream came true (God I look so young!):

This blog post by Bob Wingate tells about that visit.

I have had fantasies about captivity like this ever since I was a little kid. There are actually TWO early memories of seeing this kind of box bondage with the head protruding that come to mind that will probably amuse you, but I still remember vividly seeing these as a kid and being HUNGRY to have captivity like that.

The first was actually from this Popeye cartoon where he visits Ali Baba and the forty thieves – Bluto being Ali Baba. If you scroll the video to about 16.13, you’ll see the predicament he finds himself in.

Short and sweet — and it turned me on BIG TIME!

I’m trying to locate the other early influence for you. It was from an old X-Men comic book (my fave) where the team was dealing with a villain named Arcade. At one point 3 of the wives of the X-men, and Nightcrawler, were kidnapped by him and held prisoner in fancy pyramid shaped boxes with their heads protruding in the same manner. I remember accompanying my mother to the grocery store so I could constantly go to the magazine section and repeatedly look at that strip.

Anyhow, hope you find this information entertaining. The Box is a legend, we’re finding!

Metal would like to thank Sir Bart and Sir Dart for sharing this information!

You can learn even more about these guys at Sir Bart’s Tumblr page (which has lots more pictures of the box in use) and at Dart’s awesome educational website, Dart’s Domain.

Check this out:

More information here and here

Thanks to RH of Mencomix for this!

To see this and much more, go to Serious Male Bondage

Check out this video clip from Serious Male Bondage:

Click for Serious Male Bondage

Check out the isolation box that Mark of Serious Male Bondage is building for NoEscapeSlave:

The box will be featured on SeriousMaleBondage in the future.

Click for Serious Male Bondage