See more like this over at Serious Male Bondage

At Bound Gods, Alexander Gustavo has been locked in a chest for days, but that’s a much safer predicament than what awaits: tasers, whipping and cattle prods.

Christian Wilde just finished a long graveyard shift, and now he needs to unwind. Lucky for Christian, he has a plaything awaiting him in his dingy apartment — Alexander Gustavo, locked in a chest. Christian wrests the abducted stud out from the chest and binds him to a cabinet. Alexander tries to resist the torment as Christian torments his vulnerable body. Christian painfully twists his prey’s nipples and crushes his balls with work boots before bringing out a taser, zapping Alexander’s pecs and balls. After a deep face fucking, Christian tears Alexander’s nerves to shreds as he traces a cattle prod around his balls before delivering a cruel shock of electricity.

Next, Christian ties Alexander over his bed posts where he takes brutal whipping and flogging. Christian then ravages Alexander with a fucksaw, pulling the trigger to full power. Now with Alexander’s hole prepared for Christian’s massive cock, Alexander takes a mean fucking over a web of ropes.

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Imagine having your had locked in a box and force fed cock! It’s what can happen at Bound In Public:

Parker London takes Jason Miller to a dungeon party in San Francisco. The studly dom offers Jason to the crowd and the rowdy public roughs up the bound man. Jason is made to sniff crotches, lick boots and bare feet, suck anonymous cocks, and crawl around like an animal. The used up boy is strung up and receives a crazy lashing with the single tail whip. The partygoers take turns fucking the boy and make him beg for their hot loads.

This is a vintage shoot from the men of Bound In Public

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At Bound Gods, Connor Maguire pulls his fuck toy out of the box and torments him till finally giving him the deep dicking Logan Taylor has been begging for

Connor Maguire wakes from his slumber, feeling horny and ready to torment his newest plaything. Connor walks over to his footlocker and pulls out a trembling Logan Taylor. Logan worships Connor’s boots and endures a paddling. Next, Connor pulls Logan onto the bed, tying a rope to the captive’s neck. With his chest covered in clamps, Logan takes Connor’s dick deep inside. The torment continues as Logan’s body is bound spread eagle and flogged. Connor again reams Logan’s asshole and covers his plaything in a hot load. Satisfied with the pain Logan took through the night, Connor milks a load from the stud’s cock before placing him back in his box and returning to sleep.

Models in this shoot: Connor Maguire, Logan Taylor

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Check out the pictures and information from Master Mike:

It has a nice thick comfy cushion, a kennel heater to keep you toasty warm, and a LED light if you want to do some reading or just see what you are sitting in. It is completely dark with the light turned off. The door and heater are controlled by redundant timers, so there is no chance of getting stuck in it. So long as you don’t exert yourself too much, there is plenty of airflow. I find it quite relaxing.

Thanks, Master Mike, for these pictures and the information about your confinement box! Fucking HOT!

(Note to readers: Yes, I have been inside and it is just as cool as it looks!)

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).

By Mister-X/Spartan

Todd awoke to the sound of all the ‘clicks’ of his restraints opening, as well as the slow rising of the lid of the box in which he was sleeping. He yawned and stretched his limbs and removed his blindfold and gag before rising out of the box, being careful when pulling his ass off the dildo which was part of the box. It was the start of another day. After taking care of his emptying at both ends, he shaved his chin, neck, face and scalp and washed his face. Then he went out to the kitchen to start getting breakfast. He was still dressed in his pyjamas, which is what he called the full rubber catsuit he slept in. He turned on the television to catch the news. He had set his ‘alarm’ to be a few minutes before the 7:00 newscast so he could catch the beginning. The lead story was about a big storm that was due to hit that evening and continue overnight.

While breakfast was cooking he did his minimal exercises to start warming up for the day. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and liked what he saw. He started thinking about the day ahead, and realized that it was the day for play with his friends. Since Todd didn’t have a regular job, living off the income from his inventions, he didn’t work a regular week and wasn’t that aware of which day of the week it was. His friends did do regular jobs, and their play would be on weekends, one of which began with this day. At the thought, Todd’s cock started getting hard.

Breakfast finished, dishes done, shower taken, catsuit washed and dried, he got into his warm-up suit and went to the garage to start his exercise regimen. Finished with his stretching, push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups and jumping jacks, he left for his morning jog around the neighborhood. He met a few of the neighbors, both 2- and 4-legged, as he usually did on his jogs. He took along some biscuits for the 4-legged ones, who always looked forward to seeing Todd on his jogs. The 2-legged ones just knew him as the guy who lived down the street, the inventor. They were all friendly. They didn’t know about his kinky side. Not that his house, both inside and out, would look like he was kinky. The box he slept in, which he kept locked, looked just like any chest with the lid down, except for the air holes, which were hidden in the back next to the wall. He kept a bed just for show. He didn’t have a dungeon. For that he visited his friends.

Back from jogging, he took a shower, got dressed in his leathers, and went to his workshop to think about his latest invention, one that wasn’t completed yet. He was working on remote-controlled cuffs, and the problem he was thinking about was how to make sure that someone else did not have the ability to open or close them if they had a similar pair. He knew that automobile remotes had a 1 in 198 chance of opening someone else’s car, and he wanted to improve the odds from that. He was checking various sites on his computer to get more information, and eventually wandered over to bondage porn sites. His mind was still fixed on his play time tonight. His cock was affecting his thinking. Finally Todd gave up on his invention problem as he realized he was being affected by his cock’s needs. He went into the kitchen, got an ice cube, deflated his cock, and locked it into chastity so he could get back to work.

He was soon back to checking various internet sites that dealt with information regarding the problem he was trying to resolve. He spent several hours absorbed in that. It was only when his stomach started reminding him that he was overdue supplying it with sustenance that he noticed the time. He was going to be late for the party. He quickly signed off and turned off his computer. He always kept it off when he wasn’t using it to prevent anyone else from accessing his information. He strapped on his favorite leather collar, buckled on leather wrist bands and rushed into the garage to get into his car. He started up the engine, which automatically activated the garage door opener. He backed out and headed off. He had locked the front door when he had gotten back from his jog, and the garage door automatically closed when the car was a certain distance away. These were more inventions of his.

When he arrived at his friends’ place, they were already starting. They weren’t surprised at his arriving late. They were used to his behavior, knowing that he could get his mind wrapped up in what he was working on. But they were very pleased to know someone as talented at inventing bondage gear as Todd was.

Todd was a confirmed bottom, getting his satisfaction from being placed in bondage. It was also how he could realize all the possibilities for improvements in this play, giving him ideas for further inventions. It was a limited market, but one in which a lot of people were always looking for the proverbial better mousetrap, so to speak. His friends were ready for him, having ideas of their own for something different that Todd might like and which they enjoyed putting him into.

Immediately on his arrival, as per long standing policy, Todd had the rings that were attached to his leather wrist bands locked together behind his back. His cock always would start to react from this. But this time Todd realized that he’d forgotten that he’d locked his cock in chastity, and the key was in his pants pocket. He started to say something about this, when the other long standing policy kicked in. His friends put a gag in his mouth when Todd started to speak. This time they had decided to use a pump-up gag, one that would completely fill his mouth after it had been pumped up. And to further the gagging, they wrapped duct tape tightly around his head over his mouth after he was gagged. They were now ready. Todd wasn’t, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. His cock would remain in chastity, and his stomach would remain unfilled.

They placed a blindfold on Todd, and put shackles on his ankles which had a connecting chain about a foot long. They then helped him walk into another room. When they took the blindfold off, there was a familiar looking smiling face standing in front of him, but a face he’d only seen on the internet, not in person. His friends introduced Todd to the webmaster of his favorite internet bondage site. He obviously couldn’t shake hands, or speak with him, but he was pleased to meet him. The guy had brought cameras, as well as his assistant, and they were ready to film the play Todd and his friends engaged in. Todd was amenable, though he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

Todd’s friends had been telling the webmaster about the various inventions Todd had produced. The webmaster was intrigued with a number of them, not having seen anything like them before, and wanted to see them put into use. Todd’s friends were happy to accommodate. Todd became the designated guy to have all his inventions tried out, photographed and publicized on that webmaster’s popular site. Todd was pleased to get the publicity.

After they had finished, Todd’s friends told the webmaster about Todd’s box that he slept in. One thing led to another, and soon the whole group was in cars on the way to Todd’s house. Todd was kept cuffed and gagged for the trip. The storm was starting in, and the car was buffeted by the winds on the way. The approach of Todd’s car was all that was needed to trigger his garage door to open. It was the first time Todd had come home while bound. Todd realized that this may not be the safest thing to have happen, that someone could rob Todd of his car and house location to be able to get in. But then, Todd realized that thieves could just as easily rob someone else of their keys and house location, so it was equivalent. He made a mental note to invent a way to improve his security.

He was kept in his car, not let out until the garage door closed after the car engine was turned off. His friends were careful to keep this side of Todd’s life from the neighbors. The guy who was driving the car opened the front door to let all the others in, as well as the photo equipment. The equipment was protected from the pelting rain.

Everybody inside, Todd’s friends got the key to the lock on the box and opened it. They brought Todd over to it so he could show them the box. Needless to say, the webmaster took lots of pictures of it, both lid down and lid up, without anyone occupying it. The webmaster also got pictures of Todd standing next to his box, still cuffed and gagged. Then the webmaster wanted to see it in action with Todd secured in it. That meant removing the cuffs for Todd to get out of his leathers and into his pyjamas. He was still kept gagged.

When Todd emerged dressed in his rubber catsuit, the webmaster started running his video camera while his assistant worked the still camera. Todd initially adjusted his ass to sit down on the dildo. Next Todd spread his ankles on top of the triggers for the ankle cuffs which were located at opposite ends of the box. As soon as his ankles were on top of the designated spots, the metal cuffs clicked shut over Todd’s ankles.

The triggering of the ankle cuffs closing also triggered metal coverings to close over Todd’s legs, both above and below his knees. After this Todd completed laying his back down on the box, which triggered a metal covering to close over his stomach. One of Todd’s friends put the blindfold back over Todd’s eyes, and Todd lay his head down, triggering the metal covering to lock over his neck. Todd then stretched his hands out to the top corners of the box, laying them down over the bands which triggered the metal coverings to close over them. Todd was now well secured in his box in an ‘x’ shape the way he would be every night. He wouldn’t be released until the designated time the next morning. The closing of the wrist coverings triggered the lid of the box to start to close.

After the box lid was closed, Todd’s friend with the padlock locked it again to the box so it could be photographed this way. With a big smile, he said, “I’ll be back in the morning to let Todd out. Todd’s alarm is set to open everything at a little before 7 AM each morning, but it senses when the padlock is attached, and won’t open in a case like that. So Todd is going to get some extra rest tomorrow morning.”

With that, the webmaster stopped his video camera, and his assistant finished getting still pictures. He thanked the group for an excellent picture-taking session of something that his viewers would enjoy seeing. The group left Todd’s house, making sure that the front door was locked, his friend keeping that key so he could get back inside the next morning.

Todd had little difficulty falling asleep, since it was his normal time to do so, and was his normal way of doing so. The box also kept out the sound of the wind whistling as that storm was beginning to focus its full force on the area. It was when he awoke the next morning that Todd got his first surprise. He was sure that it was past time for his ‘alarm’ to go off, but it hadn’t. There wasn’t much Todd could do but just wait. Todd’s biggest regret was that his cock was still locked in chastity. He usually erupted his morning Woodie into his rubber catsuit and cleaned it up later, but there would be no eruption this day.

Todd’s friend finally made it to Todd’s house. That storm had disrupted roads in several places with falling trees and other debris. When Todd’s friend unlocked and removed the padlock, he expected the lid to open and the other restraints to open, but that didn’t happen. His friend checked the clock, and found that the power was off. He’d heard on the radio that there were numerous power outages caused by the storm. He figured that the power would eventually get back on, so he left the padlock, left a note for Todd to call him when he got out, and left the house.

Todd’s housekeeper came on Sundays, the one day that Todd didn’t play with his friends or work in his workshop. This made it easier for Todd. Like everyone else besides his bondage friends, the housekeeper was unaware of Todd’s kinky side. Despite the storm damage, the housekeeper came as usual, since she had a key to Todd’s house, but noticed that the power was off, so she couldn’t run the vacuum cleaner. Instead she was in the process of dusting the box when the power came on and the lid started lifting. She jumped back startled, but was then cautiously curious to see what was inside. When she saw Todd in his rubber catsuit getting up, blindfold and gag in place with all those metal coverings opening up, she let out a blood-curdling scream and went running outside. Needless to say, this attracted the neighbors. It took Todd some time to get the neighbors and the housekeeper calmed down, still dressed in his full rubber catsuit.

Unfortunately this came at a cost. He was going to have to arrange to get another housekeeper. And the neighbors now started avoiding him when he went for his morning jog. Todd made another mental note to himself to get a backup power source in case the power went off again. At least Todd was pleased at how well the pictures turned out which were posted on that webmaster’s site.

The End

By lthr_jock

Clark usually woke slowly, but on this occasion he was suddenly jerked awake as his body clenched in pain. He sat up suddenly, his legs, back and chest feeling like he had completed a massive workout on the previous day. This was combined with his back torso and legs being covered with a decent level of sunburn which gave him a whole different kind of pain. Clark got up, and went into the bathroom to look at himself. He looked a mess – his whole body a bright shade of red with white patches marking where the yoke had been locked onto him. Every movement made his muscles ache and he marvelled he hadn’t torn something.

The thick steel collar stood out against his reddened skin and Clark was amazed he had worn it all night. As he thought about the day before, he grinned to himself and admitted the whole thing had been arousing. A pain in his cock growing from dull to sharp reminded him that he was still wearing the cock cuff and that his growing excitement was being restricted. Clark headed back into the bedroom, found the key to the cuff and took it off. Sprawled back on his bed, it only took a few strokes to get his cock to full height and as he went back over the events of the day before, it didn’t take long before Clark climaxed, thick ropes of creamy cum spurting over his crotch and waist.

Clark lay there for a few seconds, unaware that this had all been filmed via webcam. He hadn’t cum that hard for a long time. He headed back into the bathroom and had a long shower, only realising them that he hadn’t removed the collar. “Damn, this thing seems to suit me.” He chuckled to himself and then headed back into the bathroom.

All the while, Clark was moving gingerly around. His muscles were screaming at him and he needed to get them sorted out. The sunburn made it worse and several times when he had been soaping up he winced as the sunburn flared under his hands. He was due at work later and he knew he would never be able to do his job like this. He grabbed his phone and called in “Hey, Vance? Yeah it’s Clarkie. Got a bug or something, won’t be in today. Yeah should be fine in a couple of days. Cya.”

Clark had a long cold bath and then got some liniment to rub into his aching muscles. That along with some after-sun cream left him oiled virtually all over with his hair matted against his skin. He checked his fridge for some food and was glad he wouldn’t have to go out to shop today. He went to pull on some clothes, but realised the oil on his skin would ruin anything he put on. He had a thought and grabbed the rubber pouch that Vickers had left him in on the day before. It wouldn’t be damaged if he wore it and so he worked it up and tucked his cock and balls inside it. He looked at himself in the mirror and did a few muscle poses enjoying the way it looked against his body. He chuckled to himself and wondered what Vickers would say if he saw this – unaware that Vickers could see all of this through the webcam.

Clark settled down in front of his computer and opened up his email. He was hoping for an email from Vickers and there it was.

“Hey Mr Clark, hope you enjoyed yourself yesterday. I got some amazing pics – have posted them already. Here’s the link. Oh, I hope you didn’t mind my little joke – I thought you’d appreciate it. Keep the gear – judging by the orders I have coming in from the website, you’ve helped make me a ton of money.”

Clark clicked on the link and started to look through the new gallery. He was amazed at how the pictures had come out. Samuel looked like a paragon of masculinity, but masked and restrained he was turned into something else. As Clark looked through them, he felt his cock starting to rise in the rubber. He started to rub at his crotch and then reached under the rubber to stroke harder.   Clark suddenly had a thought and paused. He went over to where he had dumped the restraints from yesterday, and before he could think about it anymore he put the collar back on and locked it in place. The chest harness followed and as it scraped over his sensitive nipples, Clark grunted – though it didn’t stop his cock rising. The restraints followed and Clark sat back down in his chair and started stroking again. His cock was soon rock-hard and Clark had to take it easy to prolong the feeling. When he eventually came, it went everywhere.   The strain of the day before and the release from the climax left Clark exhausted and he staggered a few steps to his bed before collapsing onto it, still in steel restraints and with cum drying on his front.

***

When Vickers reviewed the webcam footage that evening he was amazed and very happy. He was stunned to see Clark sleep in the collar and cuffs, but watching him put on the gear Vickers had left him in was more than he could possibly have hoped for. He took video clips and stills off of the webcam.

Vickers was delighted to see that Clark was clearly enjoying the bondage – and enjoying it more and more. He re-ran the video of Clark in chains jerking off – and then re-ran it again. Pulling down his trousers he started to stroke as well as he planned what to do next. He knew that if he went too fast, Clark would back off so he had to proceed with caution.

***

Clark and Vickers only spoke by email & chat over the next few weeks. Vickers was busy – the new pictures of Samuel had garnered the interest he had hoped for and he had several orders for his new gear. He had farmed the construction out to someone else while he worked on something new.

Clark kept an eye on the website, again enjoying the photos of himself and the comments that were placed about him. He increased his time at the gym, hardening his already muscular body and trimming down.   He spoke to Vickers about it & Vickers suggested a tracking programme that involved him measuring his muscles and tracking their growth. Everything was then stored on his computer, which unknown to him Vickers used to amend his new construction.

After 6 weeks, Clark received an email from Vickers.

“I have something new for you. Fancy giving it a trial run?”

Several pictures were attached to the email and Clark’s hand shook a little with excitement as he opened them. Initially he was disappointed. The first picture was a steel cube with a single hole in the top of it. Clark has seen such things before and they didn’t impress him. As he progressed through the pictures, he became more interested. They showed the cube opened up. Inside was a seat made of rubber with a high back and contoured to the shape of a human body. Behind and beside it was a series of restraints that could be used to secure someone helplessly in place. Finally, Vickers had included some photographs of 2 sets of metal sleeves – the larger pair of which was clearly modelled to replicate someone’s lower legs.

Clark was intrigued and emailed back.

“Looks good. When can I test it?”

“How about tomorrow? “

“Yes, can do that – I’m off all weekend.”

Vickers grinned as he read the last reply.

“Great – we’ll see how long you can last.”

***

On the next day, Clark found himself outside Vickers place. He walked up to the door, which Vickers opened as he approached. “ Hey, Mr Clark, come on in.” Vickers made some polite conversation, but Clark wasn’t interested and he made short, sharp replies until Vickers grinned and said “OK, I guess you want to see the box.” Clark nodded and Vickers led him down to the workshop.

The box stood proud in the centre of the room, illuminated by spotlights. The pictures didn’t show how thick the steel of the box was, how it gleamed in the lights and how the rubber smelled. Clark walked around the box, leaning forward to touch the chains and restraints inside. He looked up at Vickers “When do I start?” Vickers grinned. “As soon as you like.” As Clark bent to unlace his boots, he interrupted “But I want to be able to photograph the process for the website – so I need Samuel.” He handed Clark the metal helmet and Clark nodded before putting it to one side and stripping down.

In seconds he was naked in front of Vickers, the nervousness and uncertainty he had shown on previous occasions gone and replaced with his arousal. Vickers gasped as he looked at the naked man in front of him, his physique hardened since they had last met. He covered his own arousal by picking up the helmet and helping Clark get it on. Clark was soon hidden behind the steel of the helmet, his mouth again gagged with the cock-shaped rubber gag. He tried to speak “Mppppphh!” and Vickers nodded with pleasure. “Oh, Samuel, welcome back.”

Vickers picked up the smaller set of steel sleeves. “These go on first.” He snapped them open and encouraged Clark to lay his forearms inside them. He then carefully closed them, smiling as they fit perfectly covering Clarks forearms in steel from wrist to elbow. The measurements Clark had provided to his exercise management programme were perfect. Vickers used an alun key to tighten the sleeve and allowed Clark to lift them up and peer at them through the eye holes of the steel mask. Clark loved the feeling – heavy yet comfortable. He wondered what the grooves and notches were for and then found out as Vickers guided his hands behind his back and then pushed the sleeves together. With a set of clicks, the grooves and notches aligned and Clark found his forearms locked solidly together. With his elbows locked so closely together, his chest was pushed outwards, making his massive pecs look even bigger. He tried to speak to Vickers, but his muffled grunts were incoherent.

Vickers ignored them and picked up the larger sleeves. He placed them around Clarks calves and again used an alun key to lock them in place. They fit snugly around the balls of muscle on Clarks upper calves and tapered down to the ankles. Clark found he could move in them, but their weight was a constant presence.

Vickers stepped up to him “OK, now we need to make sure that if you piss while you’re in there, it’s all drained outside. He held up a long solid plastic tube with some flexible plastic tubing over the end. “I need to fix this over your penis, OK?” Clark tried to reply but couldn’t make himself understood – he gave up and nodded. Vickers grinned and soon Clark’s cock was strapped inside the solid plastic tube. Clark’s arms were aching already as Vickers led him to the box.

Vickers slid the chair forward on embedded runners until it was nearly outside the box. “Sit down.” Clark went to do so, but couldn’t work out where his arms went. Vickers assisted him, sliding his arms down behind the back of the chair. The contoured rubber back of the chair matched the curves of Clark’s back and recesses in the back of the chair allowed the metal forearm sleeves to slid into place, until with a sharp click they stopped. The back of the chair both supported and accentuated his position, making his chest and crotch stick out more, while his waist somehow looked smaller. Vickers the reached behind the chair and pulled a harness of thick, heavy chains across Clark’s torso and waist and chained him tightly to the chair. He then pushed the chair and it slid back inside the box. As it hit the rear of the box, clamps locked into place around the forearms holding him tightly in place.

Vickers then secured steel clamps around Clarks biceps, completing the restraint of his upper body. He then took Clark’s legs and moved them to clamps on each side of the box. They locked into the notches on the calf sleeves keeping his legs spread and making him take a more solid seat on the rubber. Vickers then added chains around Clarks thighs. “Try to move.” Clark did so – but the only thing he could really do was to move his head from side to side. Vickers smiled. “ Perfect.”

He took the flexible plastic tube leading from Clarks cock and fed it out through a hole in the floor of the box. He then closed the front. Although there was space between Clark’s body and the front of the box, he was so solidly restrained that he couldn’t take advantage of it. Vickers then took the two halves of the box lid and swung them into place. As they closed, with Clark’s head outside the box, Clark felt them lock in place against the helmet and now he could not even move his head. Vickers attached a hose to Clark’s gag and attached the other end to a hanging bag of orange fluid. “This is orange squash. It’s mixed with some electrolytes and salts so it will taste a little more salty than usual. You’ll need it in there.” Vickers moved out of sight behind Clark. Unseen he linked the hose leading from Clark’s cock to a second bag that was also linked to Clark’s gag. This bag was already partially full and included Viagra and some drugs that Vickers had found would make people more open to stimulus.

Vickers went back around to the front. “Well, Samuel – here you are again. Now, we didn’t discuss how long you should be in storage. So, we’ll start with 4 hours and see how you feel after that.” Clark tried to complain but could only mumble around the gag. Vickers stepped away out of the light and then turned to come back. “I forgot one thing. We’ve sorted your piss out, but we need to make sure that you don’t shit everywhere as well. Just hold very still.”

Vickers pressed a button and Clark felt a vibration inside the box from beneath his arse. He felt something hard pushing against his sphincter and he yelled as loud as he could as he realised what was about to happen. He tried to move but the restraints held him solidly in place as the invader slowly pushed past his sphincter and inside him. There it stopped and he gasped, the unfamiliar feeling of something up his arse making him wonder what the hell was happening. Vickers grinned – that was far enough — for now. “Ok, Samuel, now if you need to defecate, it’ll all get sucked away. And now…good night.” Vickers stepped out of sight, turning all the lights off except a spotlight on the box and an illuminated clock opposite Clark which slowly, very slowly counted the minutes away.

To be continued …

By lthr_jock

Clark stared straight ahead at the clock – not that he had much choice. The collar of the helmet was rigidly locked in place, and the helmet was so tight around his head that he couldn’t move inside it. Vickers had left the room in darkness except for the spotlight on the box and a smaller one illuminating a clock face opposite Clark. Apart from closing his eyes, Clark had no choice but to watch the clock slowly counting down the minutes.

The hands of the clock seemed to move like someone wading through tar. By the time Clark had been in there for 15 minutes, it felt like far longer. Already he knew he was in trouble. With his arms locked behind him, his muscles were cramping painfully. His heavy biceps and shoulders worked against him and made the bondage more secure. He tried to move, but he could do little but twitch inside the box. The chains restraining his chest and waist were heavy and solid, and he couldn’t move them an inch. His legs were locked securely in place, and their positioning meant that his back and arse were forced further into the rubber of the chair. He couldn’t even wiggle his arse, as the rubber tube that had been pushed up inside him was also solidly in place.

As the clock ticked down to show he had been boxed for 20 minutes, he could feel himself sweating. His body had heated up the air inside the box, and it was now acting like a sweat box. Sweat was pouring off him, and he had to keep blinking to keep the stinging solution out of his eyes. He could feel it running down his body and between him and the rubber of the seat. Trickles of it went around and under his arse and then were drained away so that he wasn’t sat in a puddle. He became aware of a strong smell of rubber as the seat heated up, and soon the hot, sweet smell filled his nostrils.

Clark used the gag to pull some fluid inside him again. Vickers was right – the orange juice had a strange bitter taste to it. But he needed the fluid, and so he gulped it down.

***

Vickers stepped into an adjacent room, where he quickly opened up his computer and downloaded the video he had taken of “Samuel” being boxed. He checked the sound on it to make sure he hadn’t used Clark’s name on it, and he then uploaded it to his website. He had already set up the site. The page was solely for the cage and had some video and schematics on it already to demonstrate the cage’s features. He now added the heading “Samuel gets into storage” and linked the video he had just taken. He then added “Live: Samuel in the box” and linked two live feeds to his website. One was from a webcam situated just below the clock facing Clark. It showed the exterior of the box, featureless except for the steel-covered head. The second was inside the box and showed Clark’s hairy, muscled torso straining against the restraints and sweating. It also clearly showed Clark’s cock in its plastic tube which was currently swelling to full size as the Viagra in Clark’s orange squash took effect.

Vickers smiled and patched the website so that the feed was now live on the internet. He then headed back into the room and smiled as he saw that both bags linked to Clark’s gag were half empty already. Working silently so as not to alert Clark, he topped up both bags. He then took a third bag and hung it beside the others so its contents would mix with the others. That bag was currently empty, but would not stay so for long as he linked it to the tube running out of the cock-tube Clark was wearing. Now, anytime that Clark pissed he would end up drinking it – and the diuretic Vickers had placed in the second bag meant that he would piss a lot.

Vickers took a last look at the clock before he left the room and then left, suppressing a chuckle. He thought he had been sneaky when he made the gag in the helmet shaped like a cock. He knew he had been sneaky when he shaped the “drainage tube” up Clark’s arse in the same way. However, he considered that his finest moment had been when he altered the clock so that it ran at half speed. While it currently showed Clark had been boxed for half an hour, he had actually already been inside for an hour.

When Vickers got back to the computer, he could see that Clark’s cock was now fully erect and providing an entertaining view on the webcam. Judging by the number of people watching, they enjoyed it too, and Vickers was glad to see some emails of interest being sent through despite the heavy price he was charging for the box.

***

As the time slowly passed by, Clark sucked squash through the gag more and more often. The heat in the box was making this a serious endurance test. As he blinked sweat out of his eyes, he watched the clock hit the first hour – only three to go. Clark had to admit, though, that the whole experience was clearly turning him on. He could feel that his cock was rockhard and leaking pre-cum and he wished his arms were free so that he could get some release. He tried for what felt like ages to rub his cock against his thigh, but the plastic sleeve around it stopped him and he groaned in frustration.

Clark was also aware that he needed to piss. He was embarrassed about it, but the pressure from his bladder became more and more insistent. Eventually, he let go and felt the piss flow away from him out of the tube around his cock. To his surprise, he remained erect throughout.

Clark sucked down a long gulp of squash and noticed that the taste had changed and become even more bitter. He wondered if it was because he was getting to the bottom of the bag and hoped that Vickers would change it.

Clark was actually finding the whole experience arousing. Initially he was concentrating on the discomfort, but the longer he stayed here the more that discomfort seemed to be arousing him. Even the tube up his arse started to feel more pleasure-able than painful and he found himself trying to rock up and down on it a little.

***

Vickers smiled as he saw Clark piss, and he went out to make sure that the flow regulator worked. It did, and the bag was now half full and feeding Clark’s piss right back to him. Vickers topped all three bags up and went to head back outside. As he did he could hear Clark making little grunts of pleasure around his gag, and he realised that this man was really enjoying himself.

Vickers decided to test that and took out the controls for the anal plug. He got the system to push it another inch inside Clark. To his delight, Clark gave a long, slow moan of pleasure into the gag.

Vickers went back to the computer and saw that loads of people were now posting. The live Sam-Cam was a huge success, despite the fact that the person they were watching could hardly move.

***

Clark was light-headed and as the intruder in his arse seemed to push in further, he groaned. He had never felt like this before. His muscles and skin seemed to be picking up so much sensation from everything restraining him that he was on fire. He closed his eyes and savoured the feeling. His mind started to wander back to the websites he had visited, the pictures of men in restraint, the muscles restrained by steel, the fetish clothing some were wearing – and before he knew it, he was blowing a load down the plastic tube. Clark was loud but the yell he wanted to make muffled into something more animalistic. His cock stayed rock hard, and he wondered why he hadn’t done something like this to himself a long time ago.

***

Vickers almost cheered as Clark came with a hard, thick, ropy cum coating the inside of the cock tube before being drawn away and adding to the bag of piss. Clark then pissed soon after and Vickers crowed at the mix of fluids that Clark was now drinking down. He got his own cock out and starting jacking and soon joined Clark in roaring with pleasure as he ejaculated.

***

Clark looked at the clock – 5 minutes to go. He was nearly done. In some ways, he was disappointed, but even the pleasure he was feeling could not overcome the discomfort of the box.

Vickers was monitoring the time and started to get ready to let Clark out. He disconnected two of the bags from Clark’s feeding tube, just leaving him with orange squash. He archived the footage from the last 8 hours and closed down the live cams. He then added a note thanking everyone for watching and promising that excerpts would be added to the website in the next couple of days. He then headed in to let Clark out.

For the first time since he had been in the box, Clark saw something else other than the clock. Vickers stepped into view and started to open the box up. As the top slid open, Clark moved his head, getting some of the cricks out of it. Vickers quickly opened up the helmet to reveal Clark’s face, his carefully maintained hair plastered against his head and his face red with heat and exertion.

“Welcome back, Mr Clark. Did you have fun?”

Clark looked back at Vickers, his gaze slightly unfocussed. “Yeah, Vickers, all damn good here.”

Vickers began the long, slow process of getting Clark out of the box. He made him stay sat down as he detached the cock tube and the arse plug from him. He then released all the restraints.

“Ok, Mr Clark, time to stand up.”

Clark lurched to his feet and staggered, his aching muscles hardly able to hold him up after being locked in place for so long. Vickers slipped a shoulder under Clark’s arm and helped him over to a chair. Clark sank down onto it, not noticing that he was sitting on his clothes. He was still stark naked, sweat running off his muscled form, hair matted all over him – and his cock still rock hard. Vickers tried not to look at it, but it was just too difficult not to stare.

“Ok, Mr Clark, you ready for a shower.” Clark nodded and Vickers helped him to the bathroom. As Clark started to use the shower to clean the sweat off his body and massage his muscles, Vickers collected Clark’s clothing. As he looked at the clothes which were rumpled and soaked from the sweat that poured off Clark when he sat down, Vickers decided to test just how Clark had been affected by the drugs he had been drinking for the last 8 hours.

“Hey, Mr Clark, when you sat down you soaked your clothes. I don’t think you can wear these home.”

“Really? How bad are they?”

“Pretty bad, you were sweating a storm and they’re drenched. They also – phew – kinda stink. Why don’t you let me clean them for you – you can pick them up next time.”

“Yeah but what the hell do I wear to get home? We’re not exactly similar sizes.”

“Well, I got some stuff that a friend of mine left here. I’m not sure it’s exactly your style though.”

“I don’t give a damn about style as long as I don’t have to drive home naked.”

“Ok, then, I’ll go get them.”

Vickers chuckled to himself as he got some clothes out and put them on the bed. If Clark went along with this, he was definitely progressing the right way. Clark had gone quiet, so Vickers decided to broach another subject.

“So, did you like the box?”

“Hell, yes. I’m still hard and I came three times while I was in it.”

Vickers raised an eyebrow as the normally reserved Clark was so open about it.”

“Glad to hear you liked it. So – do you want it?”

“You know I do.”

“I thought you might – I warn you, it’s pretty expensive.”

“I don’t care – I want it.”

“You sure? I’m selling them for £10,000.”

“10 grand?” Clark stepped out of the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. Vickers got a full view of Vickers’ body, including the still-erect cock that stood out in front of him.”

“Yes, there’s a lot of work that goes into it and a large amount of material. Of course, I’ll give you a substantial reduction for being my field-tester and for helping with some advertising. To you, £5,000.”

Clark thought quickly. He had £1,000 left in his savings account and no way to get the remainder quickly. He shrugged with disappointment.

“Sorry then, Vickers, too rich for me.”

Vickers could see that Clark really wanted it. “You sure? I mean, we could come up with a payment plan of some kind. I’m sure you could do me some favours that would be worth it for me.”

Clark thought about it for a few seconds, “You got a deal, Vickers. Now, give me these clothes so I can get home.”

Vickers waved his hand towards the bed “Like I said, not your usual sort of thing, but it’ll get you home at least.” To his surprise, Clark didn’t pause but started getting dressed. Vickers hid a grin, but made sure his webcam was on – he had to get a record of this.

Clark sat on the bed struggling as he pulled the trousers on, until Vickers handed him a bottle of lube and suggested he use it to help get the trousers on. Clark tried it, and although it was still difficult, he got the trousers on. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror. His legs were now clad in gleaming black rubber, a double yellow stripe visible down the outside of each leg. They clung to him, outlining his muscles and making it almost look as though his skin was made of rubber. His still hard cock was clearly visible where he had fed it inside the trousers and it was a noticeable bulge down his left leg. Even his balls were visible. He turned to admire his muscled arse covered in black and noticed a line of yellow up the crack of his arse. “What’s that?”

“Don’t worry about that – you’d best get dressed and get home.”

Clark shrugged and sat back on the bed as he pulled on yellow knee length socks and then a pair of tall glossy boots. He secured the zip up the back of the boots and then tightened the straps on them. Folding the socks over the top of the boots, he stood up and grabbed the t-shirt. He pulled the vest over his head and immediately found that it caught around his chest and upper back, the rubber rolling up. He struggled with it and Vickers had to help him – but soon the black rubber vest was on and he tucked it inside the belt of the trousers. He then grabbed the black rubber biker jacket and shrugged it on. He didn’t zip it up, just secured it by the waist belt.

Vickers could hardly contain his glee. The normally retiring, clichéd prison officer was now wearing rubber and apparently enjoying it. He decided not to press his luck.

“Ok, Mr Clark, there you go. I’ll arrange for the box to be delivered in a couple of days.”

“Thanks, Vickers.” Clark grinned and headed for the door, enjoying the way the rubber squeaked as his muscles stretched it.

To be continued …

Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story.

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

This guy is very flexible and can take severe bondage and pain without a problem. In addition, he has a small build so he can fit into tight spaces.

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

By Mister-X/Spartan

The room was dark. There was a little light that shone under the door from the hallway, which provided a small amount of light to the room. There was no movement from inside the room. This was changed by the lid of a horizontal box slowly starting to lift. When the lid was up a couple of inches, a pair of eyes shown from inside the box. In the dark they were barely discernible. The lid stayed at the level it was at for a minute, then slowly began to rise again. Soon it was high enough to reveal a hooded head propping it up. The hood had eye and nose holes, but no mouth hole. It was made of rubber.

Suddenly a voice came through the wall and door from the other side. “Evan, this sauna is so-o-o-o nice. Too bad you lost, man. You don’t know what you’re missing. I’m sure you’re very uncomfortable in there, but hey, you lost, man. I’m going to enjoy it this weekend while you suffer. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

The pair of eyes closed tightly on hearing that statement but were soon open again, this time blazing. The pair had shared the cost of the sauna, and were supposed to share the use of it. But Evan’s roommate had decided to change that. Suddenly the eyes got some sparkle in them. They focused on a ring of keys that were barely visible on the floor of the room. The head started pushing up the lid more, inch by inch. Finally, when it was perpendicular, the head hesitated. Only when there was a loud sound of a radio being switched on did the head push the lid a little further to cause it to lean back against the wall. The sound of the lid hitting the wall was muffled by the sound from the next room.

After the lid was up, Evan twisted over so that his head was now facing the ceiling. Evan’s head was over the edge, outside the box. His body was starting to manipulate itself to get out of the box, twisting this way and that, beginning to emerge a little at a time. His shoulders were able to get up onto the top of the box. It was clear that Evan’s hands were bound behind his back. As he finally was halfway out, lying on his arms on the edge of the box, the metal cuffs that connected his hands together came into the dim light, as did the end of the metal cuffs that connected the handcuffs to something else.

With Evan’s hands continuing to push against the box, Evan started tilting down to the outside. He started to slide down, but soon got caught on something. The something turned out to be what that other pair of cuffs was attached to. His ankles were also cuffed together, and the other end of the cuffs were attached to these. Evan was in a cuffed hogtie. Evan’s feet were what were hung up on the edge of the box.

Evan’s hooded head was barely above the floor. It was just as well that his feet had caught, because the sound of Evan hitting the floor might have been enough to have alerted the guy on the other side of the wall. Also, hitting his head after sliding down out of the box may have knocked him out. Evan was momentarily still, listening to hear if he alerted the guy, but when it was apparent he had not, he soon started maneuvering his feet and toes to try to get them clear of the edge of the box.

When his feet were finally clear, Evan only had a short distance to drop before his hooded head provided some support to ease his body silently down out of the box. He kept his body erect, not wanting to move to his side and have his body thump down. Evan chose to take it slow to avoid making any sound. He finally succeeded in getting all the way out. He paused to catch his breath from the exertion. His body glistened from sweat. He listened to the music coming through the door and wall from the other side.

Evan twisted himself to his side, getting the metal up off the floor. He started pushing himself across the floor, using one hand and one foot to propel himself. He took it slowly, aiming to get to the ring of keys. It didn’t take long for him to arrive at them. He began to feel one ring, slowly, and as quietly as possible, lifting it up with his cuffed hands to try it in the lock of the handcuffs.

The first one didn’t catch. He quietly set it down and tried the second one. That one also didn’t catch. It was the third one that did. With the handcuffs opened, it wasn’t long before Evan was out of all the cuffs. He quietly picked up the keys, being careful to keep them separated, picked up the cuffs, got up and crept over to the box. While he removed the sweaty hood from his head and removed the gag that was inside his mouth after removing the tape that had covered it, he started laying his plan. He tried the keys to remove that high, tight, heavy metal collar that Grady always locked around his neck on the weekends, but none of the keys fit. He would have to wait to remove that uncomfortable thing.

After deciding how he was going to do it, he waited patiently for the song to end before he dropped the box lid back down. This made enough of a sound to be heard through the wall to the other side. He then quickly tip-toed over to behind the door and waited for his roommate Grady to come in.

Evan heard Grady come down the hall and open the door. Grady only opened it part way. He switched on the light and looked inside. All seemed to be as he had left it, the ring of keys still on the floor. Grady didn’t think to look behind the door. Feeling better, Grady opened the door and started walking over to the box. He was as naked as Evan was. Water was dripping down onto the floor. That was when Evan sprang.

Evan leaped at the middle of Grady’s back, propelling the pair onto the floor. The force of the hit swung Grady’s arms back, which is what Evan wanted to happen. With the pair of handcuffs he quickly cuffed one of Grady’s wrists before Grady could realize what was happening. Then came the struggle as Evan had grabbed Grady’s other arm to bring the wrist over to cuff it.

Grady was stronger than Evan, but Evan had the advantage of surprise and position. Grady tried to resist, but soon had his other wrist cuffed to the first one behind his back. When Evan had leaped he had thrown the other cuffs to the floor next to where he expected the pair to land. They were within grabbing distance.

Grady was screaming “damn it, Evan!” while he was trying to move his arms and legs. Evan had continued to lay on Grady and quickly had the cuff around one of Grady’s ankles. All he had to do was get the other leg close enough to attach it. Evan had figured that this would be the most difficult task, but Grady was not thinking properly. He had been drinking, and his brain had been dulled by that. Soon Evan had both ankles cuffed together.

Evan got the other pair of cuffs and began to pull Grady’s ankles toward his wrists. Both men were tall and lanky, their long legs and arms allowing them to be brought close together. Grady tried resisting, but there wasn’t much he could do about bringing his arms back with them cuffed together in the hinged cuffs that they used. Soon Grady was cuffed in a hogtie.

Evan got up, sweat pouring off him from the exertion. Grady continued with his tirade against Evan. For the first time that day, Evan smiled. He had successfully turned the tables on his roommate. He casually walked over to the soaked rag that had been inside his mouth and brought it and the roll of tape that Grady had left earlier over to Grady to start gagging him.

When Grady saw these coming he clamped his mouth closed. Evan just shook his head and said “c’mon, roomie. You know I can get you to open your mouth. You may as well accept the inevitable.” But Grady still kept his mouth tightly shut. When Evan saw this, he just sighed and said “okay” and put his fingers tightly on Grady’s nostrils, shutting off Grady’s air. After a minute of this, Grady started shaking his head, trying to dislodge Evan’s fingers, but to no avail. Finally, when he opened his mouth to breathe in some air, Evan forced in the rag.

Evan exerted strength when he wrapped the tape around Grady’s mouth. He was getting his revenge on his roommate. Finally Grady’s mouth wasn’t going to be able to get any air into it after it had been wrapped about a half dozen times. Evan put down the roll of tape and again put his fingers over Grady’s nostrils. Grady started protesting through his gag, but only barely discernible muffled sounds emerged. Evan again smiled as he was continuing to get his revenge. He finally said, “Let’s see. I believe you did this to me five times before putting the hood on and putting me in the box. So this will be the first of five that I’ll do to you.”

By the time Evan had removed his fingers for the fifth time, Grady was exhausted. The fight had gone out of him. Evan got the rubber hood and placed it over Grady’s head, zipping the back to make it snug. Then he grabbed Grady by the connecting cuff in the back and dragged him over to the box. When at the box, he bent down and used his legs to lift Grady up over the edge of the box and into it. He closed the lid and left the room.

The room was dark. There was a little light that shone under the door from the hallway, which provided a small amount of light to the room. There was no movement from inside the room. This was changed by the lid of the box slowly starting to lift. When the lid was up by a couple of inches a pair of eyes shown from inside the box. In the dark they were barely discernible. The lid stayed at the level it was at for a minute, then slowly started to rise again. Soon it was high enough to reveal a hooded head propping it up.

That’s when the light came on, revealing Evan standing to the side of the closed door. He was holding up the ring of keys in one hand and a padlock in the other. “Leaving these keys on the floor within reach was your mistake, roomie. You’re going to pay big for it. You’re going to stay in that box the whole weekend while I relax on our new sauna. Plus, to make sure you don’t get out, I’m locking the lid shut. There’s a couple of air holes in there, though it’s going to get awfully hot after a while. I’m going to enjoy thinking about you in there while I relax. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

Evan was naked, and had been rubbing his erect cock while he was saying this. He walked over to the box. Grady’s eyes were focused on Evan’s every move. When Evan got to the box, he lifted the lid with one hand as his cock started erupting. Evan aimed the cum to land on Grady’s hooded head. He could see Grady trying to avoid the cum, but Evan just adjusted his eruption, continuing to splash the hood. When he was finished, he closed and locked the lid.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of music started coming through the wall and door from the other side of the box. Finally came a voice. “You’re right, Grady. This sauna is so-o-o-o nice. Too bad you fucked up and left the keys out. I’m sure you’re very uncomfortable in there, but hey, you fucked up, man. It’s your own fault. I’m going to enjoy it this weekend while you suffer. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”

This produced some rustling of the lid, but it held firm, the lock keeping it from opening. With all that had happened, it was still Friday night. Grady knew he had a long weekend ahead to suffer. It was his first time to be kept in this rubber-lined box he’d gotten to keep Evan in when he was punishing him. He was already thinking about next weekend, when he would get his revenge. He smiled when he thought of that collar that Evan still had locked around his neck when he was addressing him, forcing his head up high. He knew that he’d hidden that key well, so Evan wasn’t going to be getting out of it, wasn’t going to be that comfortable this weekend.

It wasn’t often that Evan got the best of him, and he was going to make him suffer big for this one. He knew that he was the dominant, and thought it was only fair that he be the one to use the sauna, that it wouldn’t be available for Evan until he would allow it. But Evan thought that he should have equal use of it. That wasn’t how things worked between them, at least not to Grady’s thinking.

Grady focused on his revenge. He would start by putting that punisher on Evan’s cock. He knew how much Evan hated that device. He liked keeping it around for special times like next weekend. He would have to focus on those special treats that always got Evan hard so he could feel the full effect of that punisher. Thinking about this almost got his mind off the pain he was having from the forced position his wrists and ankles were in. Evan had made the cuffs tight. He would have to make sure to do the same next weekend.

Grady thought about how he could get out of this box. He had tested the lock on the lid, but it had held. So that was out. He thought about how he had ordered the construction of it to be done with extra reinforcement to prevent Evan from being able to escape. And now that was being turned against him. After thinking about it, he realized that there was no escape. That’s when he really started feeling the aches and pains from his muscles being forced into this hogtie position. It had been years since he had been put into a hogtie.

Suddenly their doorbell rang. He wondered who could be coming to visit. He heard Evan get up out of the sauna, dry off, put some clothes on, and answer the door. It was Roger! That reminded him that he’d told his good friend, and fellow top, about getting their sauna. Grady figured that Roger would be able to right this wrong position.

Grady heard some talking between the two of them outside, but couldn’t make out what was being said. Soon the door opened and the pair came into the room. Evan was continuing what he was saying. “We had both paid for it, but Grady felt that he should be the only one to use it. So he gagged me, hooded me, cuffed me in a hogtie, and put me into the box. But he made the mistake of leaving the ring of keys on the floor. He also didn’t lock the box lid. So I got out and turned the tables on him. He’s now inside the box like I was, only I locked the lid and took the ring of keys with me.”

“Grady’s inside the box in a cuffed hogtie? This I gotta see.”

Evan went out of the room to get his keys. Roger looked around the room to see what other gear was lying there. When Evan returned, he unlocked the lock and lifted the lid. Grady had prepared for the lid being lifted by getting ready to put his head up out of the box. When Roger saw him he started laughing. “That’s a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Grady.”

Grady just stared at him. He was thinking, ‘c’mon, Roger, old pal. Get me out of this.’ After Roger just looked at Grady with a big smile on his face, he walked behind Evan and quickly pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. In the blink of an eye he had Evan’s wrists cuffed behind his back.

“Hey! What are you doing?” cried Evan. Grady was thinking ‘good for you, Roger. Now get me out.’

“Subs like you are supposed to be restrained, not restraining their dominants. I’m returning things to normal in this household.”

“If you’d wanted to use the sauna I would have let you.”

“I’m going to use it anyway, but this is about something more fundamental. Now get into that box while I get the rest of the necessary gear to suitably restrain you.”

When Roger returned, he unlocked the lock to the lid and lifted it up. Both Grady and Evan were still there, Grady in his cuffed hogtie, gagged with the rubber hood, Evan just with his hands cuffed behind him. Roger quickly set about cuffing Evan’s ankles and cuffing the two cuffs together to put him into the same cuffed hogtie that Grady was in. He got a leather penis gag and strapped that on Evan. He had a rubber hood with nose holes only that he had brought, but just lay that down on the box edge. He then removed the hood from Grady.

Roger stepped back and brought out his camera. Grady’s eyes opened wide at the sight of that. Roger said, “This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.” He started taking pictures of the pair in the box from various angles, focusing on showing Grady. The latter was clearly unhappy to have his picture taken. When he was finished, Roger said, “I finally have something to hold over you, Grady. You’re going to be doing some favors for me.”

Next, Roger, put the hoods back on the pair. He also brought out that punisher that Grady had thought about earlier. When he started putting that on Evan, it brought a reaction. Roger said, “I’m sure this is something that Grady would want me to put on you in response to what you did to him.” Grady was thinking that it was the punisher, and was thinking that Roger was correct in his assumption.

After the pair was hooded, Roger got one last picture of the two hooded heads sticking up out of the box. He lowered the lid down to where it was resting on the two heads, and took another picture. Then he pushed them both down, closed the lid, and locked it, pocketing the key.

Soon the pair heard sounds from the next room. “This sauna is so-o-o-o nice. I’m going to enjoy coming over here every weekend and using it. Grady, I’m sure you’ll take care of preventing Evan from using it before I get here. And to prevent my showing the pictures I took of you around our group, I’m sure you’ll let me use the sauna. I thank you two for getting it for me to use.”

Inside the box, the two hooded heads were thinking about the money they’d spent getting something that Roger would be the one to use, and not them. They were grumbling. Grady didn’t know how long he would be kept in this box, but Evan knew how long he would be. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last time he’d spend the whole weekend in here like this. His only consolation was that Grady was having to endure it as well.

Metal would like to thank the author, Mister-X/Spartan, for this story!

Check out this video clip from Serious Male Bondage:

Click for Serious Male Bondage

To see more like this, go to Serious Male Bondage

By Greg Alexander

With the mud rides finally over, I was hauled back into the frat house after being thoroughly rinsed off, like a dirty piece of livestock, by a high pressure hose in the yard.

By this point, I had accomplished the truly remarkable task of accumulating no fewer than 273 demerits, all marked down in tidy bunches of five on the big white board. I wondered what exactly the consequence of having so many demerits would be.   It wouldn’t take me too long to find out.

It was late, and most of the pledges and frat boys were drunk enough and tired enough that they were finally through abusing me, at least for the night. As the large crowd of frat boys dispersed, Trevor and Bryce came over and picked me up on either end of my body. Of course, needless to say, I was still bound and tied up from head to toe.

“Hey,” Trevor said in a deep voice. He was talking to Shane, the pledge ring leader. “You wanna come do this with us?”

“Sure!” Shane’s voice was eager.

The three of them carried me back down to the basement of the frat house, into the room where I’d started my captivity there. Again I saw, all over the walls, the frat’s insignia and its big block greek letters.

The three frat boys carrying me came to rest in front of the padded foot rest I had noticed earlier. It was the kind you might have parked in front of a big easy chair, except that the flat padded surface on which you would normally rest your feet seemed to be mounted on top of a large wooden box, and in the very center of the flat padded surface on top there was an opening just large enough for someone’s neck to fit through. About six inches or so in front of that neck-sized opening, I noticed for the first time, there was a slim sliver bar that was imbedded in the flat surface on top – it looked like a long silver button of some kind, that could be depressed by pushing down on it. I also noticed, for the first time, that the head-sized hole in the top of the box was not the only opening. One of the box’s 4 sides (its front, from where we were standing) had two smaller holes, side by side, roughly ankle-sized. I stared at the strange box, with a sense of foreboding.

“OK, bitch boy,” Trevor said from behind me. “Welcome to your new home.”

“Dude,” Shane said. “This is so friggin evil.”

Grinning, they set me roughly down on the floor. Then the three of them fiddled with the box until the top sprung open.   It separated into two halves, which swung up and away like double doors opening. At that point, as Trevor and Shane pinned me down so I couldn’t so much as squirm, Bryce undid my handcuffs, ankle cuffs, and other forms of bondage. Of course, by this point, I didn’t for a moment dare to hope that I was going to be permanently untied. I understood I was only being retied in preparation for whatever new torments these sadistic frat boys had in mind.

My wrists were once again handcuffed behind my back. This time my ankles remained unbound, but my knees were tied firmly together.

Shane, Bryce and Trevor all lifted me into the air once again. Now I was staring into the inside of the big box, with the top off. I gasped with surprise. I couldn’t help myself.

The box was not completely empty, as I would have expected. The bottom was not wood, but a sheet of metal, and embedded in it, pointing up and at an angle, was a dildo.

I stared at it.

The dildo had a metallic tip. As a examined it more closely, I noticed an electric wire was threaded along one side of the dildo, and then ran along the base of the box.

As Trevor and Shane held me in the air, Bryce leaned forward and adjusted a second latch on the box. The box’s front (with the two side-by side openings in it), along with the top, swung off to the side, allowing easy access to the box’s interior.

“So,” Trevor said. “Do you see how this works yet?”

Maybe I was just willfully refusing to understand, but I hadn’t grasped it yet. I shook my head. The frat boys snickered.

“Explain it to him, dude,” Trevor urged Shane.

“Well, it should be pretty fucking obvious to anyone but a fucking stupid little bitch like you,” Shane said to me. He glanced at Trevor and Bryce. “Let’s just set it up, and we’ll see if he gets it then.”

At this, with Trevor grabbing me firmly from one end, his muscular arms locking around my arm pits, and Bryce and Shane holding my midsection and my legs firmly, I was lowered into the open box.

At first, I stupidly was unsure what they were doing about the dildo. It was on the largish side, and since it was sticking right out of the middle of the box’s base, I couldn’t see how I could comfortably fit inside.

Then, suddenly, I realized what they were doing.

“Open wide,” Bryce said. The three of them laughed. They were lowering me slowly, and carefully, and positioning my body so the dildo was pointed directly up my asshole.

Shit.

I started to squirm furiously, trying to writhe my way out of their grasp. But their grip was too firm.

“Hold fucking still,” Bryce commanded me. “Believe me, squirming is just gonna make this worse.”

I had never actually been fucked before, and I had no idea what it would be like to have something that big go up my asshole, but I was terrified. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t do this. What do you want me to do? Just tell me what you want me to do, sirs. I’ll do anything you tell me to. I’ll be your slave.”

“You already are our slave,” Trevor pointed out. “Your this frat’s bitch boy. And right now we’re telling you to hold still so that we can ram this dildo up your ass.” It was obvious the three of them were enjoying this immensely.

“But why are you doing this?” I almost pleaded. But I shut my mouth. I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

“Now, hold still, bitch boy,” Trevor said, smirking.

At first the dildo wouldn’t go in. It was too big. Trevor and Bryce had to tell Shane to get a big jar of lube and lube up my asshole, which he did groaning good naturedly. They also lubed up the dildo. Then they tried again. Slowly, inch by inch, I felt myself being lowered into the box, as Shane held my but cheeks apart and Bryce and Trevor pushed down. My virgin asshole resisted mightily, but Shane and Trevor pushed harder, and the dildo finally began to slip in. Pain shot through my body as it entered me, but they didn’t let up. I cried out as it went in fully, and my ass cheeks finally came to rest on the metallic base of the box.

That was the hard part. Still wincing, I watched as the three frat boys stretched my legs out, so that my bound knees were only slightly bent, and threaded my ankles through the two holes in the front of the box. Now my body was tilted up at an angle; I was rocked back, my ass and legs pointed slightly up in the air. They snapped the front of the box shut, so that my feet were trapped there, the naked soles pointing outside.

Finally, they carefully closed the top of the box, bringing the two halves back together again and locking them into place. Now, only my neck was sticking through the opening on top (it was just big enough for my neck to slip through).

I was truly completely trapped. My feet and my head were sticking out of their respective openings, totally immobilized, completely vulnerable to anyone standing outside of the box. The rest of my naked body was not only trussed up like a turkey inside of the box, but also stuck like a pin in an insect box, impaled on the slick dildo planted in the center of the box’s base.

As my asshole adjusted to the sensation of having the dildo stuffed up it, the agony slowly subsided, replaced by a dull thudding pain, and I began to feel a strange accompanying sensation almost like sexual pleasure. It was a bizarre feeling. Of course, my cock was still trapped in its cock cage, and I felt it getting hard once again, desperate for the pent up release that would never come.

“The frat ordered this little contraption online, from one of the ‘specialty’ websites,” Bryce said, looking at me. “It cost is a fucking fortune.”

“No need to worry about that, though,” Trevor added. “We’re gonna make sure you reimburse for it out of your savings.”

“First, though,” Shane said, “I think we should see if the little fucker likes his new toy.”

“Why don’t you demonstrate?” Trevor suggested.

Grinning, Shane dragged a big stuffed chair across the floor of the basement, so that it squeaked against the cold concrete. He brought it to rest directly in front of the box, so that it was facing my outstretched bare feet and face, completely locked into their respective openings in the box.

Next, the three boys produced from one side of the room an assortment of additional goodies. Shane had, balled up in his hand, a mass of strands of twine. Trevor had a big silver bucket, filled with soapy water, and a second smaller container with several stiff-bristled brushes of varying sizes, ranging from tiny to massive. Finally, Bryce was carrying at least a dozen large feathery quills, the kind people might have used to write on parchment in the dark ages, along with several small bottles of ink. I wondered what the hell was happening now.

The three of them all looked excited, which made me even more nervous than I already was. Shane and Trevor set to work looping the pieces of twine around my toes, one by one. I realized for the first time that right above the holes that were serving as my make-shift ankle stocks, there were a series of tiny notches, and Shane and Trevor were busy tying my toes back, connecting each piece of twine to the notches, thus splaying my feet out and rendering the spaces in between my toes, like the soles themselves, completely helpless.

Bryce, meanwhile, brought back a thoroughly unwelcome sight: the white board on which the frat boys had kept their careful tally of the demerits I had accumulated serving as their “mud board”: 273, to be precise. An enormous number.

Bryce grinned again. “Bitch boy, remember how I said earning demerits would be a lot fucking easier than getting rid of them?” he asked me.

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Remember how I said you really didn’t want to earn demerits?”

“Yes sir.”

“You didn’t believe me, did you boy?”

“I did, sir.”

“Are you trying to argue with me, fucker?”

“No sir.”

“Give him 2 extra demerits for arguing with you,” Trevor suggested.

Bryce agreed this was a good idea, and added them to my tally on the board. “Alright, 275 Demerits now. Sort of a round number. Holy fuck, that’s a lot of fucking demerits.” He shook his head in wonder and whistled. “Alright, bitch boy. We did try to warn you about this. You get to work these off one by one. And we’re gonna make sure that we keep careful track. Just watch.”

At this, Bryce, Trevor and Shane each picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and with each of them kneeling at the front of the box, they began to draw on the soles of my outstretched feet.

I was immediately writhing, my whole body twisting and turning, trying with utter futility to wrest my poor feet free of the sadistic box. It was impossible, of course. With my toes tied all the way back, I had no choice but to sit there and take it.

And boy, did my ticklish feet take it, as the ink quills flew from one side of my soles to the other. I started to giggle.

“No fucking noise, bitch boy,” Bryce told me sternly. “Absolute silence, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

I sat there, gritting my teeth, and shaking uncontrollably as the pointed quills explored every ticklish contour of the undersides of my feet. It didn’t take me long to realize what was going on. The frat boys were transferring the dashes on the white board, recording each and every one of my earned “demirts,” with a short corresponding dash of ink on the soles of my feet. As they knelt there, grinning, adding up my demerits one by one, it was all I could do not to squeal with agonized laughter.

“Stop!” I finally pleaded, but it was to no avail. They just kept adding up tally mark by tally mark.

Finally Trevor rocked back, and surveyed their handiwork. “Whatya think” he said.

Bryce nodded. “Not bad.”

For my benefit, he held up a medium-sized mirror. I swallowed: the soles of my feet were now covered with ink . . . 275 dashes of ink, to be exact.

Bryce stood directly in front of me, a real no-nonsense look in his eye.

“OK, bitch boy,” he said. “Now listen real fucking closely, cuz I’m only going over this once.”

“The three of us, on behalf of the frat, have decided on an appropriate punishment for you. It is not necessarily the only punishment you are to receive, but it is certainly the principal punishment our frat has decided to administer to you.”

“Your punishment is that you’re gonna be stuck in this room. And, with very occasional exceptions to stretch your body out, you will be stuck in that box. You’re gonna be fucking stuck there until you get rid of every single one of those demerits marked out on the soles of your fucking feet.

“Now . . . you’re probably wondering, how do you get rid of a demerit? Well, I’ll tell you. In fact, I’ll do better than that: I’ll show you.”

Bryce went across the room and picked up a big poster board that had been drawn on in big black marker. The letters had been carefully written with almost artistic precision, so that I had no difficulty reading what it said:

On the top, as a title, was printed in block lettering:

BITCH BOY DEMERIT RUBRIC

Drink Piss: Lose 1 Demerit

Lick Ass: Lose 1 Demerit

Good Blow Job: Lose 1 Demerit

Great Blow Job: Lose 2 Demerits

Orgasmic Blow Job: Lose 3 Demerits

Crappy Blow Job: Gain 1 Demerit

I stared at the poster board.

Shane sat down in the stuffed easy chair that was facing me, and examined me carefully. “So,” he said. “What do you say?”

I stared stupidly at him, not comprehending.

“Stupid fucking bitch,” Bryce grunted. “Doesn’t even get the rules when they’re spelled out for him. How do you expect to ever get out of that box if you don’t start begging us right now to give you our cocks?”

Shane looked at me expectantly. Reality began to dawn on me.

“Uh . . . right,” I stammered, disbelieving. I took a breath, feeling even lower and more degraded than ever. “Could I, um, suck you, sir?”

Shane looked scornful. “I think you can beg better than that, bitch boy.”

“Please, please sir, let me have your cock. I need to suck your big juicy cock! Please let me have your cock.”

Shane acquiesced at this. He was grinning, and as he dropped his pants, it was obvious that he was already incredibly horny. His dick was hard, even bulging, through his underwear. I should have known, I thought. This was turning Shane on too.

“OK, bitch boy,” he said. “Suck me.”

He stood from his chair, took a stride or two forward, straddled the box, and sat down, so that his dick was centimeters from my face. His frat boy cock pumped aggressively in and out of my mouth, and I struggled not to gag on it. He leaned back, hands clasped behind his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face.

“Oh yeah, yah fucking cunt. Suck my dick. Suck it. SUCK IT!” he grunted.

I licked and lapped at his organ as it thrust in and out of my mouth, careful not to gag as the bloated tip rammed into the back of my throat repeatedly. It didn’t take me long to bring this already horny frat boy to an explosive orgasm. Cum spurted like a geyser into my mouth.

“Swallow it, you bitch!” Shane panted. I hastened to obey. Load after load of his warm cum cascaded down into my belly. Finally Shane sat there, his body slumped, a sleepy smile on his young frat boy face, his limp cock still in my mouth.

“That was pretty good,” Shane conceded, finally. “Let’s take away one demerit.”

“OK,” Trevor said.

Bryce grinned. “Ya wanna `reset’ the scoreboard?”

“We’re doing it for every five demerits he loses,” Trevor reminded him.

“Yeah,” Bryce agreed. “But I wanna do it for the first time now.”

I wondered what “reset the scoreboard” meant. I saw Bryce reaching for the bucket of soapy water, and the collection of stiff bristled brushes, which I noticed they had brought out earlier with the twine, the ink, and the quills. Trevor and Shane gamely followed suit.

Bryce dipped a big brush in the soapy water, lifted it out, and held it up against one of my exposed soles. The toes were still tied firmly back, and I was of course completely helpless to defend myself in any way, with my body still bound firmly inside the box.

`Reset the scoreboard.’ Now I understood. They were going to wash all the ink away, and then record my new demerit level all over again.

Bryce set to work with the brush, scrubbing with vigor at the underside of my foot. Shane set to work on the other foot with a separate brush. And now I really went crazy.

“NOOOOOO!!!!” I screamed. The sensation was way too much for the trapped sensitive soles of my bare feet. To say that they were being tickled would have been to severely understate the case. They were being attacked. I could not just sit there and take it like I had when they were drawing the demerits with the quills. I had to cry out. It was half laughter, half desperate plea for them to stop.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch boy,” Trevor said. “No one wants to hear your whiny, girly ass voice.” He picked up a toothbrush and started to use it to scrub the ink away from in between my toes, as Bryce and Shane continued to work on my feet. This only made me cry out louder.

“That’s it,” Trevor said. He kicked off his shoe and reached for his sock, obviously to use as a gag.

It was Bryce who stopped him. “Don’t do that,” he said. “We made sure the walls here are close to sound proof. And I enjoy hearing him beg.”

“PLEASE STOP!!” I was screaming. More than anything, I wanted desperately to yank my feet away from the terrible scrub brushes, but of course I couldn’t. I was completely trapped. The three of them were taking their sweet time, methodically getting all the ink off, experimenting with the different sized brushes and using them as they seemed most appropriate and effective. I writhed and groveled. It was to no avail.

It couldn’t have taken longer than 5 minutes, but it seemed to last hour. Finally the three of them were toweling my feet off, apparently satisfied that my feet were once again a blank slate. They even held up a mirror again, to allow me to admire the thoroughness of their cleaning.

“Now, be totally quiet, or we really will punish you,” Trevor told me.

Then they picked up their three quills, and once again began to mark out the demerits in a neat orderly tally, dipping the pointed tips occasionally in the jars of ink to ensure that each dash was clear. It was not nearly so tortuous as the scrubbing had been, by comparison, but still ticklish enough that I had to bite down on my lip hard to keep from making any noise.

“Ok,” Bryce said, when they had finished marking out 274 new dashes. “274 demerits. Hope you enjoyed that. We’ve decided we’ll do it again when you reach 270, then 265, and so on. Of course, those are only the required ones. Any guy in the frat can `reset the scoreboard’ any time he fucking feels like it.” He sniggered. The others chuckled as I stared at him.

“Well,” he was saying “all that’s left is to show you the one other fun feature of our little bitch boy box.” He glanced at Shane. “Shane? You were on a roll. Ya wanna show him?”

“Ya mean, the switch?”

“Of course I mean the fucking switch.”

Shane seemed to pause for a minute, then shook his head with a smile. “Man,” he said. “I sure am glad I’m not the little bitch.”

Bryce shrugged. “That’s what happens to somebody who fucks around with the pledges of Delta Psi.”

“Yeah,” Shane said. It was all eagerness now. He’d taken remarkably little convincing, I thought. “OK, let’s do it.”

Bryce turned to me. He was especially into the cat and mouse games. “Do you have any clue what we’re talking about, bitch boy?”

“No sir,” I said truthfully.

“Well,” Bryce said. “I want you to guess.”

I was drawing a total blank. “Uh . . . I really have no idea, sir.”

Bryce wasn’t letting me off. He meant this. “Listen, you little bitch. Guess what we’re talking about. Guess right, and maybe we’ll give you a reprieve for a whole day.”

What had Shane said a second ago, anyway? I grasped frantically for the answer. `The switch?’ What the fuck did that mean? “Uh . . . you’re gonna take me out of the this box and use a switch to whip me?” I guessed, wincing.

All three of them laughed. “No, but I like the way you think, bitch boy,” Bryce chuckled. “Show him, Shane.”

Shane stepped forward toward the box. As I’ve already mentioned, there was a large rectangular button embedded in the top of the box. I had no idea what it was for. Now that my head was trapped in the top of the box, it was literally inches from my nose. In fact, Shane had planted his butt and ballsack directly on it when I had sucked him off a few minutes ago.

Now, Shane pressed on a second, much smaller irregularity in the top of the box that I hadn’t noticed until now. It was a tiny hatch, and when it sprung open, it revealed a hidden little lever, or switch. It was red, and it seemed, from my limited vantage point, to have two settings: a “0” and a “1.” Right now it was at “0.”

“Any theories now?” Bryce asked.

I stared at it dumbly. “It . . . looks like an on off switch?” I ventured.

“A plus,” Bryce said sarcastically. “But what’s it for?”

I tried to think. Hadn’t I seen some wires just a little while ago? Wires leading to . . . where?

The dildo.

“I’ll give you one clue,” Bryce said. He was reaching for the switch. “It turns on an electric current.”

Bryce turned on the switch.

The jolt I felt was instantaneous and unforgettable. Suddenly there was an electric current running up the tip of the dildo, shooting into my asshole. I yelped loudly, and would have certainly jumped 5 feet in the air, had not I been completely pinned down and immobilized by the bondage of my sadistic frat captors.

At first, the current produced a bizarrely erotic sensation. The dildo, wedged all the way up my asshole, felt as thought it was tickling, kneading and massaging my prostrate all at the same time. I wiggled furiously, my whole body involuntarily attempting to pulse and thrust in response to the powerful sensation. My poor deprived cock, still hard at that very moment, responded with renewed desperation. My horniness level surged as my cock got even harder, and even more pre-cum began to drip from it like a faucet.

Then, a few moments later, as the three sadistic frat boys looked on eagerly, there was a shift. The pulsing, kneading current suddenly increased. The pain came a second later. It was a fierce burning sensation, not sexy or stimulating at all. It HURT.

“OOOH!! AWWW! EEE! AWWW! AAAAH!” I cried out. The electricity induced pain shooting up my ass was intense. “PLEASE!” I cried out. “PLEASE STOP IT!!!!”

Shane, Trevor and Bryce collapsed into fits of laughter as I continued to react to the electric current that was shooting up my asshole. The cycle continued – after a moment, the current subsided to its original state. The pain went away. My horniness level skyrocketed as my prostrate responded to the electric dildo’s crude stimulation. Then the current ripped into my ass again, and the pain rushed back. It was unbearable.

“Please turn it off!!!!” I begged them. “Please turn it off!!!”

Bryce leaned forward, so that his face was close to mine. “Listen, bitch boy,” he said. “That’s no way to for a slave to beg his master. Begging and groveling are good, but you need to do more than that. You need to beg and grovel calmly, submissively.”

I made an extraordinary effort. “Please sir,” I said, calmly, my face contorted from the overriding sensation of having an electric current flowing up my asshole. “Please, do you think you could turn it off sir?”

“More submissive,” Bryce directed. The other two frat boys sniggered.

Trevor gave me a hint. “Why don’t you beg me to let you lick my feet?” he suggested.

My prostrate was tickled, my dick leaked more pre-cum, then I yelped in pain at another jolt of searing electricity. It was too much.   I finally, and most unwisely, snapped.

“NO!!! I’M NOT GOING TO BEG YOU TO LET ME LICK YOUR FEET!” I screamed, really losing it. “I’VE GOT A FUCKING DILDO UP MY ASSHOLE AND I’M FUCKING THROBBING WITH PAIN. YOU’VE GOT TO TURN IT OFF!!!”

I realized as soon as I said it that it was a huge mistake. The three frat boys stared at me for a moment, with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

“I’m . . . I’m so sorry, masters,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Not yet you aren’t,” Bryce said. “But you will be.”

Now Trevor really did pull off his sweaty sock and stuff it in my mouth, gagging me securely with a strip of duct tape. Then, before I knew what had hit me, Bryce suddenly turned away, and walked out of the room. Shane and Trevor immediately followed suit, shutting the door behind them.

I was left in the basement, in the darkness, stuck in that box, hands tied, knees tied, head and feet protruding from their openings and frozen in place, toes tied back, feet marked with 274 dashes of ink, pre-cum seeping from my dick, jolt after electric jolt shooting up my asshole and making my whole body twitch futilely.

And that is where I stayed for the next six hours.

By the time the door opened, and Trevor, Shane and Bryce reentered the room, I had broken completely. The electric pulsing was terrible. I had to make it stop. I would do anything. Anything.

The boys regarded me with interest. Bryce ungagged me.

“How do you feel now, bitch boy?” he asked.

With extraordinary effort, I kept my twitching, electrified body as calm as possible. “I’m . . . I think, with your undeserved mercy, I’d like to have that switch turned off now, sir. Please sir, please, have mercy on your poor bitch boy,” I said humbly, as submissively as I could.

Trevor chimed in. “Do you remember what I told you to do, before your completely out-of-line little outburst, slave?”

I did. “Yes sir,” I said. “Please sir, please let me lick your feet.” My fried asshole cried out for relief, but I knew it would only come when I had groveled sufficiently to satisfy their whims.

Trevor sat down in the big stuffed overchair that was facing the box. With a malicious deliberation, he kicked off his athletic shoes, and stuck his familiar sweaty bare feet directly in my face.

“Alright, bitch boy, watch this,” he guffawed.

As he set his feet down on the padded footrest that covered the top of the box, and began to mash his soles roughly against my face, using my entire trapped head as a footrest, his ankles in so doing pressed down on the rectangular button that was imbedded in the top of the box, inches away from my nose. As his bare feet made contact with the button, and pressed down on it, the electric current pulsing through the dildo suddenly died.

I slumped my shoulders and gasped with relief. The sudden sense of liberation from that terrible torturous feeling of electricity jolting up my asshole was tremendous, almost too great for words.

Bryce saw my relief, and smiled. “You see, slave, this is very fucking simple. For as long as we choose to keep you in that box, that switch is staying on. The current is staying on. There’s nothing you can actually do about that.

“The only thing you CAN do is hope that one of frat’s brothers or pledges takes mercy on you by using your face as a foot rest, or even better for you, so that you can actually work off some of those demerits, allows you to drink his piss, lick his asshole clean, or suck him off. All of the above will cause weight to be placed on the button, which disrupts the circuit.” He grinned. “Of course, the minute the weight is removed . . .”

In demonstration, Trevor also grinned, and suddenly swung his feet up into the air. As his ankles lifted off the button embedded in the center of the footrest, I immediately felt a searing jolt run through the dildo and into my asshole, as the current began to flow again. My brief respite from the pain only magnified the shock of its continuation.

“Please sir, please use my face as a footrest!!” I cried out automatically, almost without thinking.

They all laughed heartily. “See,” Bryce said. “This exactly what the boy needs. Before long, every fiber of him will WANT, will CRAVE, that our frat use his face as a foot rest. It will be the only way he can stop the pain.”

Trevor put his feet back down on my face, depressing the big rectangular button imbedded in the top of the box as he did so. The current once again stopped flowing, and I gasped with relief. They laughed again.

Now Bryce wanted to go. “Let me at him,” he said eagerly.

As soon as Trevor swung his legs away and stood up, of course, the electricity began to flow again. I winced and gasped. Bryce sat down, looked at me, and smirked.

“What do you say?” he said.

“Please,” I whimpered, “please use my face as a footrest. Please let me lick your feet clean.” More than at any point that Trevor had made me beg for such humiliating treatment, I really, truly meant it. I desperately wanted, more than anything in the world at that moment, for Bryce to kick off his oversized flip-flops and mash his sweaty frat boy soles into my face. I wanted that more than anything, because I knew it would stop the electric current ripping into my ass.

Bryce toyed with me. “Why should I?” he asked.

I winced. “Because I am Delta Psi’s bitch boy, sir,” I groveled. “Because you are the pledge master of this frat, and I am your lowly slave, and all I am worthy to do is have the privilege of my face serving as your doormat, foot stool, or any other place of rest for your feet that you see fit, sir.”

Bryce still wasn’t done. “Think of 3 names that are appropriate for us to refer to you by,” he said. “And then maybe I will allow you to be my footstool.”

“Sir, I am your Bitch boy, your faggot . . .” I began.

“Not original enough,” Bryce said impatiently.

I strained my imagination. “Sir, I am your Butt-munching cum lover,” I stammered. “I am your cock sucking, toe-jam chewing, ass-kissing plaything.” I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the pain. “I am your piss-drinking toilet slave,” I said finally.

The three of them were in hysterics now. “Very good, boy,” Bryce said. “That was very good.” To my enormous relief, at that, he kicked off his flip-flops, and with an aggressive, boyish eagerness, thrust his bare feet into my face. As he did so, once again, his ankles and calf muscles came into contact with the rectangular button, and the current abruptly shut off.

“Thank you, sir,” I whispered.

“Shut the fuck up, my cock-sucking, toe-jam chewing, ass kissing plaything, and lick some that toe jam from in between my toes,” Bryce ordered. They laughed. I obeyed, licking between the corners of Bryce’s toes to make sure that I cleaned the soles of his feet thoroughly.

Even then, I wasn’t done.

“Sir,” I said. “Please allow me the huge honor of licking your asshole and then sucking you off.”

This of course provoked even more laughter and guffawing.

“I dunno,” Bryce said lazily. “Why should I help you work off your demerits, bitch boy?”

“Because I am your cock-sucking, toe-jam chewing, ass kissing plaything,” I stammered, as I continued to lick his feet.

That got me another laugh. Bryce obviously didn’t need too much convincing. He withdrew his feet, causing the electricity to immediately start flowing once again. Then, to my relief, he stood from his chair, and in one smooth motion dropped his jeans and his briefs, so that he was naked from the waste down. He sauntered over to the center of the box, then swiftly rotated, so that his naked butt was pointing straight toward me. He took a step or two backward, so that he was now straddling the box, and also, of course, my trapped head. He bent, lowering his ass slightly to my face, and in so doing, braced himself on the box with one bent knee. The knee touched down on the magic rectangular button, and the current once again stopped flowing.

“Put your nose inside my asshole,” Bryce instructed me.

I couldn’t move my head at all, but with Bryce’s ass looming right there in front of me, the butt crack dominating my entire field of vision, it was just possible to slip my nose into it.

“Ok, maggot, take a nice, deep breath of fucking ass,” Bryce said commandingly.

Closing my eyes in disgust, I took a sharp deep inhale through my nostrils. The smell of Bryce’s asshole was powerful and pungent. I wondered grimly when the last time he had washed himself was.

Bryce was clearly loving this. “I’m not sure that was quite a deep enough breath,” he was saying. “Maybe we should try that again. Inhale again bitch boy . . . this time fucking make it slower and deeper.”

As I inhaled a second time, this time breathing in through Bryce’s putrid asshole more slowly, I heard the roaring, ripping sound of a fart blasting out of his ass and straight into my nostrils. I grimaced as I stifled a gag, but kept inhaling. Trevor and Shane cracked up completely, doubling over with laughter at the sight of me imprisoned in that box, forced to sniff in Bryce’s farts.

Bryce sighed with exaggerated mock comfort. “Wow, that felt good,” he said. “Hang on, bitch boy. I feel another one coming on. Make sure you get this one too.”

A second fart blasted my nostrils, this one even more noisy and repellant. I inhaled that one too, deeply. I didn’t dare disobey Bryce’s instructions even for an instant. I was in no position to.

Now Bryce lowered his asshole another half inch, so that his muscular ass muscles were practically resting on my face.

“Lick,” he instructed me curtly.

I did. My tongue darted furiously in and out of his shit hole, cleaning and pleasuring him, as he sighed with a relaxed enjoyment. “Nothing like getting your ass licked clean by a little bitch who richly deserves it,” Bryce said. “You boys gotta try this after I’m finished.”

Shane laughed. “Maybe I’ll take a shit first,” he suggested. “That’ll serve the little faggot right.”

Bryce squatted there for a while as I licked. I’m not sure how long he made me do it; certainly over 10 minutes, and it felt like longer. It’s amazing how slowly time passes when your being made to lick another guy’s smelly ass crack.

Finally, Bryce ordered me to stop, and he pivoted around. As he did so, I felt another, increasingly familiar jolt of electricity, as he temporarily removed his weight from the button. As he loomed in front of me, I realized that his skin had become moist and sweaty. He peeled off the T-shirt that he was wearing, so that I was staring at his muscular six-pack and finely sculpted pecks. He stood there, butt naked, and for the first time I got a good look at his cock.

My throat went dry.

Now I realized why he was so sweaty — at that moment, he was completely erect, so much so that he was dripping precum. In that state, his cock was absolutely enormous – considerably larger than even Trevor’s. It was massive in length. It was massive in thickness. It was, all around, massive.

Suddenly I swallowed nervously, unsure that I’d be able to take it.

Bryce grinned wickedly at me. “What do you say, bitch boy?”

“Please sir,” I said, closing my eyes. “Please, I want to suck on your dick. I want to swallow your cum, sir.”

Bryce straddled my face, and sat down on the flat surface of the box, once again depressing the large button and mercifully shutting off the current. With one oversized hand, he roughly seized the back of my head of hair, stabilizing it, and clutched his oozing dick with the other.

“Alright, bitch boy,” he grinned. “Open wide.”

And with that, he thrust his oversized penis into my throat, completely ignoring my desperate gagging, and didn’t let up until I had drained him of every last drop.

When I had finished with Bryce, Trevor allowed me to suck him off and lick his asshole clean as well. I had already sucked Shane off, of course, but he was ready to go again, so I sucked him off for a second time. Then, as a grand finale of sorts, I asked them to pee in my mouths – which all three obligingly did. All told, I managed to shed a total of 11 demerits, as was dutifully recorded when my frat boy captors once again scrubbed the ink off the soles of my feet, ignoring my howls of laughter, and redrew the updated demerit tally.

Only 263 demerits left, I thought grimly. Great.

“Wait!” I cried out, as the three of them, finished with me at last, headed for the exit from the basement. “Are you going now?” I asked them.

Fearfully.

Shane looked back at me with scorn. “Of course we’re going now, bitch boy. What does it look like we’re doing?”

With none of them pressing down on the button, of course, the electricity had started up again. Pleasure . . . pain . . . pleasure . . . pain . . . the powerful current flowing into my ass simply overpowered my quivering trapped body.

“But . . . please,” I whimpered. “Please, couldn’t at least one of you guys maybe . . . stay down here, or something? So that I can, uh, allow my face to serve as a footrest for at least one of you at a time, sir?”

Shane shook his head. “Come on, bitch boy,” he said. “We’ve been using you as a foot rest, as well as a cum-sucking, ass-kissing toilet slave, for the last several hours. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s been a real hoot. But, at some point we hafta fucking go to class!”

“Yeah, slave,” Trevor said with mock seriousness. “The world doesn’t revolve around you completely, you know.”

The electric pulse continued. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure. . . each jolt sent a renewed wave of stimulation into my prostrate, keeping my cock completely hard, completely dripping, and of course, maddeningly on the threshold of an explosive orgasm, without ever quite reaching that unachievable objective. I wondered, in the back of my mind, how many orgasms I would witness first-hand – whether Trevor’s, or Collin’s, or Shane’s, or Bryce’s, or another sadistic frat boy’s entirely, before I was finally allowed to have one of my own. How many had I facilitated already? 100? 200? It was impossible to count.

Then that second, corresponding jolt that sent a sharp shock of pain into my asshole . . . I gasped.

“Please, then, masters,” I pleaded desperately, “couldn’t you please turn the electric current off, at least until you return? It’s just unbearable.”

Trevor sighed in exasperation. “Come on, boys,” he said. “If he’s not gonna ask for anything reasonable, let’s just get out of here.”

“Wait!!” I cried. They turned back once again, regarding me impatiently.

I thought, incredulously, about the absurdity of the request I was about to make. But I knew I had no choice – not unless I wanted to sit in the dark, in that basement, for god knew how many more hours, waiting until Shane, Trevor and Bryce felt moved to come visit me again, with that electric current pulsing through my ass.

“Please,” I said. “Please tell all the other frat boys to come down and, uh, use my trapped face as a foot rest, urinal, cum deposit, or anything else they see fit . . . masters.”

“Bitch boy,” Bryce said with a smirk, “are you actually begging us to send the rest of the frat down here to continue abusing you?”

I sighed. It was amazing, I thought, how every time I thought I had reached rock bottom, I managed to go lower still. “Yes, master” I said. “That is what I am begging you to do.”

Word spread fast. By the end of the day, there was a gradual trickle, then a more consistent flow, of frat boys trooping through the basement and gasping in disbelief, amusement and mischievous delight at my completely fucked up predicament.

All the pledges, who had such reason to despise me, came of course. They loved it. They gloated over me, marveled at the box in which I was imprisoned, and delighted in verbally abusing me as they mashed their bare feet into my face, peed in my mouth, presented their smelly assholes for me to lick, and of course, above all, straddled my face and jammed their cocks down my throat. Usually they remembered to play by the rules and erase the appropriate number of demerits. Occasionally, they didn’t. What was I gonna do about it? I was trapped in a box.

At least a few of the frat brothers were a bit different. Of course, some of the usual suspects, like Collin for instance, were as mean spirited as you would expect. But some of them were actually, after the initial hilarity wore off, almost sympathetic.

Hank, for instance, the blond-haired, blue-eyed, cowboy of the frat, with a reputation for being at heart a softie in a frat full of assholes, after some initial chuckling at my humiliation, actually offered to release me from the box, or failing that, at the very least switch off the electric current.

“Dude,” Hank’s buddy reminded him in a low voice, tugging at his sleeve. “Bryce said that if anyone tried to do that, he’d kick their ass.”

“Bryce doesn’t scare me,” Hank said with a scowl, but he seemed to back away from the idea of switching it off. “Alright, look, you poor little bitch boy,” he said. He reached down and yanked his big leather cowboy boots off, one by one. “I won’t break the frat’s rules for you.”

I winced. “Sir, could I please please lick your feet as you speak to me, sir?” I gasped, desperate to shut the current off.

Hank blinked. “Uh, sure,” he said. He climbed gamely into the over-stuffed chair, peeled off his sweaty socks, and thrust his smelly, over-sized cowboy feet into my face. I gasped with relief as the pain stopped.

“Anyway,” Bryce said, after some time had passed and I had licked the lint completely from between his toes. “Here’s what I’m gonna do. This will help . . . a little.” He swung his feet off the button, and I winced. Then he took his two heavy leather cowboy boots and set them ontop of the padded surface of the footstool, depressing the rectangular button as he did so. The cowboy boots now loomed directly in front of my eyes, dominating my field of vision. The current had once again stopped.

“Here,” Hank offered. “This is within the spirit of the rules, at least. I’ll keep those there for a few hours – just keep lickin’ em clean.”

“Thank you, thank you for your mercy, master!” I whimpered slavishly.

Hank shook his head in wonderment, and walked out on the room, leaving me there to lap at the smelly tops of his cow cow-boy boots and wonder how I could possibly have sunk so low that a directive to lick another man’s cow-boy boots for several hours was the nicest thing to happen to me in days.

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Metal would like to thank the author, Greg Alexander, for allowing this story to be posted here. You can contact the author at greg_alexander222@yahoo.com.

Also thanks to Metalbond reader John for his assistance in preparing this story for posting!

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By pwnedpuppy

Getting Ready for the Move

It was late Thursday night as the train pulled into the station.  my phone buzzed – it was Pete.

“you can ride up front,” He wrote. (And, yes – the you was lower-case.)

As i left the platform, i could see Pete’s truck off in the parking lot.  He flashed His headlights to let me know He saw me.  i scampered over quickly, able to move nimbly since i had absolutely no luggage with me.

Visiting Pete on weekends was really an exercise in minimalism. i spent most of my time at His place naked, and anything that i would be allowed to wear was stored there.  All i had to bring was myself, my ID and my phone.

i got to the truck, opened the door, and saw Pete sitting in the driver’s seat in the glow of the golden interior light. He looked great as always.

Pete’s dark brown hair neat in a high and tight, with a week’s worth stubble covering the lower part of His face. His square jaw shined in the gleam of the overhead light. An unzipped black leather bike jacket hung from His big, broad shoulders, covering His torso. He had a tight black t-shirt on underneath.  Wranglers hugged His bubble butt, and He was wearing those goddamn riding boots that i’ve given a tongue bath to too many times to count over the last couple years.

He smiled, and patted His leather-gloved hand on the passenger seat. i must have stopped to stare for too long. i smiled back and hopped in the front of the cab.

“Hey boy,” Pete exclaimed as He tussled my hair… well, if i had hair to tussle, that is.  In the last couple months, getting a buzzcut upon arrival every weekend was a new part of our dynamic. Pete trusses me up on a sawhorse in the garage, breaks out the clippers and gives me a fresh shearing.  He says He likes the feel of stubble on my scalp.

“Good to see you,” He said. “I’m glad you could be here for the big weekend.”

The big weekend Pete spoke of was the move out to the acreage. His new house had been finished, and while some of the furnishings were already out there, this was the last big move of stuff that He was taking from His old place.

“I’ve enlisted some of the guys from work to help, so it should go pretty fast,” He said.

i felt a lump in my throat. While i had been trussed up under lock, key – and hockey bag – while on Pete’s jobsites, i had always been out of sight and out of mind for the guys He worked with. i didn’t exist. Nobody knows He has a human dog.

my face must have given away what i was thinking.

“Not to worry, pup,” Pete said. “I have plans for you, too.”

Plans. What did He mean by plans?

i didn’t say anything, knowing Pete knew best, and just smiled as He put the truck in gear and started to lumber off from the train station.

As we left the parking lot and descended into the darkness of the road to His place, Pete drove for about a mile before pulling over on the shoulder of the road. He reached inside His jacket and pulled something from His pocket.

“Here,” He said, retrieving a well-worn jockstrap of His. “I’ll let you enjoy this as we make our way to my place.”

As He finished the sentence, i opened my mouth – knowing better than to resist Pete’s gift.  He deftly stuffed my mouth with the fabric.  He used His fingers to press it in until nary a stitch of jockstrap was visible, although my cheeks were a tiny bit puffed out.

Even though it was dark in the cab, i could see Pete’s cheeky grin.

“Fuck, puppy,” He said tightly cupping my chin in His leather-gloved hand before reaching His thumb up to partially block my nose.  The smell of the leather filled my nostrils as i struggled a tiny bit to breathe.

“Damn, boy. This is gonna be a good weekend.”

He chuckled and turned up the stereo, which had been quietly playing a rock and country playlist He had carefully curated one weekend while i was curled up at His feet.

Putting the truck in gear, we sped off into the night for the 15 or so miles back to Pete’s soon-to-be old place.

Over the sound of the thumping bass that backed a Godsmack track, Pete commanded me to join in.

“Sing, boy!”

“Mmmph-a-wrooo,” i managed to eek out from between the elastic straps and cotton that filled my snout.

He laughed, enjoying the muffled sounds of His dog trying to do what He was told.

We rounded the corner to Pete’s block and slowed down as we pulled through the driveway and into the garage.

Pete turned off the truck and pressed a button to lower the garage door. i sat still because i knew better than to leave that truck on my own.

As the door closed, Pete reached behind His seat and grabbed a small gym bag that contained my pup gear.

“Okay, pup – strip.”

It’s a good thing the cab of the truck is fairly roomy.  i was able to get stripped down in fairly short order.

i dress rather unsuspectingly when i visit Pete – sneakers, jeans, a skate t-shirt, a hoodie.  No underwear – that’s not needed.

i handed each piece of clothing to Pete as i disrobed. Usually, He places it all in a small garbage bag and then into a locked toolbox in His garage.  If i want my own clothes to go home in, i need to co-operate. i’ll never go home naked, to be sure, but once or twice i’ve been sent back on the train wearing some pretty wrecked work clothes. i don’t mind the look, but it’s also nice to look normal in case i bump into anyone i know.

After handing over the last of my clothes to Pete, i sat in the passenger’s seat shivering and naked.  The only thing still on my was my permanently locked collar.

He handed me the gym bag and i set about getting pupped up.  Hood, mitts, kneepads, ankle restraints.  He would snap the padlocks on where needed, and took the gym bag back when i was done.  My conversion from to pup didn’t take more than five minutes.

“Down,” Pete commanded as He opened His door to get out of the truck.  That was my cue to get on all fours as best as i could in the foot well of the passenger’s side.

“Stay,” He said, hopping out of the cab and closing His door.

i put my head down to resist the temptation of trying to see what Pete was up to.

Clunk.

i heard the tailgate of the truck open, and instantly my dick got hard.

i knew what was about to happen.

The sound of chains rustled along the bed of the truck, making a loud metal-on-metal clang as i could hear carabiners attach them to the tie-down anchors in the box of the truck.

A hum of a speaker crackled and the music that had been playing in the truck was soon filling the garage. Not so loud for the neighbours to complain, loud enough to stifle any other sound from the space.

Then, boots – nearing my door which soon opened.

Given how i was oriented in the foot well, my ass was right in Pete’s direction as the door swung open.  He gave it a slap that sent a crackle echo through the garage.  He laughed, grabbed me by the torso, and proceeded to pull me out of the slightly lifted Ram 2500, my feet falling to the ground as i steadied myself.  No sooner did i land, i felt Pete’s strong arms pull mine behind my back as He frog marched me around to the back of the truck, bending me over the tailgate which was just a more than waist height.

“Mmmmh,” i moaned into the soggy jockstrap which was still filling my mouth with the taste of Pete.

my arms were pulled forward and the d-rings on the fist mitts were attached to the chains locked in the box of the truck.  Soon enough, Pete had restrained me so i wasn’t going anywhere except head down and ass up at the back of His truck.

Leaving me tethered and exposed, i heard His boots clop as He walked over to a small tool box He kept in the garage for moments like these.  He grabbed a rubber and His bottle of Gun Oil and came back over to the tailgate.

i could feel the cool air of the garage against my hole.  It grew coolers as i could feel the cold of the lube push in as Pete took joy in greasing me up.  One finger, two fingers, and almost all of a third worked the lube into my asshole.  i moaned into the jockstrap.

“You like that, don’t you boy?”

“Mmmmm.”

Pete chuckled.

“Fucccck, puppy.”

Pete’s chuckle got gruffer as i could tell He was getting into His headspace. He had another guy bound to His truck, gagged with His jock, collared with His chain and lock.  He owned me completely in this moment.

A small growl came from Pete as He stopped fingering my hole and pushed in His wrapped up cock.

He plowed. He pushed. He had me squealing like a pig.

Minutes felt like hours and i was enjoying every thrust.

A larger growl came from behind me as i could feel one last definitive thrust.

One last time, i had been fucked in Pete’s garage.  And it felt amazing.

Pete breathed deeply, withdrew, and walked away as i laid bent over the tailgate as exposed as i had been for nearly the past 45 minutes.

After a couple of minutes, Pete came back and slapped my ass.

“You took it like a champ,” He said in the same way i imagine He talked to a hockey buddy who got the shit kicked out of him in a fight. “Good boy.”

i felt the rough caress of a shop towel wipe up the excess lube from my ass and from the tailgate around me.

“Don’t move,” Pete ordered as He reached across and expertly unclipped the d-rings on my fist mitts from the chains in the back of the truck.

He then grabbed me under the armpits and slowly pulled me upright.  He turned me around with my pup-hooded head in both His hands as i looked up at him and He looked down at me.

“Alright, pup, we gotta get you ready for the move,” He said.

The move?

The move was tomorrow.

This was tonight.

The move was still hours away.

“Down,” Pete ordered as He moved His hands from my face to my shoulders, slowly pushing me down to the ground.

i got down on all fours and let out a muffled bark, my mouth still filled with jockstrap.

Pete crouched down to my level and looked me in the eyes.

“Here’s the deal, pup.  I can’t have the boys seeing you tomorrow, so we’ve gotta pack you up tonight.  And – here’s the catch – we can’t have you unpacked until after they leave tomorrow which probably won’t be until around supper time.”

This was going to be some serious storage.  It was roughly around midnight.  i was set to spend the next 17 hours confined to a space, unable to escape.

“To start, we’re going to get this on you,” Pete said as He pulled out an external catheter.  i rolled over onto my back as He rolled with rubber sheath over my hard dick. A sticky adhesive made sure it wasn’t going anywhere until Pete said so.

“Sit, boy,” Pete ordered as i got back onto all fours with my rubbered dick now hanging between my legs.

“Come over here,” He motioned as He crossed the garage.  As we walked toward the back corner, i saw what would become my home for the next day.

You know those large, oversized toolboxes they keep on jobsites?  The big orange ones, i’m sure you’ve seen them at the hardware store.  It’s so contractors can lock away all their expensive power tools overnight.  Well, that was what was staring me in the face, and was where Pete planned to hide me for the move.

“It’s solid steel, pup,” He said. “About 24 inches deep, 48 inches long. There’s ample room for you to curl up inside. Plus, there’s a portal in the back that’s supposed to be used for fishing through an extension cord to keep tools charged.  Well, that’ll be used to make sure you’re getting some fresh air in here.”

“And this is a great feature,” He said as He pointed at two recessed areas on the front of the box.  He grabbed two large master locks off a shelf and fished them through. “Once these are in here, there’s no way to break the locks to get this open. Only the guy with key gets to get access to you.”

i was slightly gobsmacked that i’d be spending so much time in such a rigid environment.

“Now, tonight, we don’t have to shut you in completely.  The guys aren’t getting here until about eight, so you can get a few hours sleep with the lid open.  But I’ll be coming out here around six – whether you’re awake or not – to close up the lid.”

“For now, it’s time to get you inside.”

Pete put His hand under my mouth and ordered me to spit out the jockstrap.

“Out,” He said — just like you’d tell a bio dog to give up a chew toy.

i opened my mouth and started to push the jockstrap forward.  In a plop, it fell out and into Pete’s hand.

“Good boy,” He said, scratching behind my hood’s ears.

After disposing of the jock, Pete bent down and picked me up like you would a dog, and carried me over top of the box.  That was the first time i had a chance to look down and inside to see that the bottom of the hard steel box was not going to be so bad after all.

“Woof! Woof,” i let out two happy barks at the sight.

Lining the bottom of the box were a variety of Pete’s dirty work clothes.  From Carhartt overalls to oversized plaid work jackets to dirty hoodies, and even a few pieces of hockey gear thrown in for good measure.  This was going to be comfy enough, and smell of Pete. I was in heaven.

“You didn’t think I’d make you spend all that time somewhere miserable,” Pete asked laughing as He crouched down to put me inside the box.

It was a tight fit, but i quickly adjusted to find a comfy spot, curling up with a pair of Pete’s lined Carhartt duck pants underneath my head.  I was in heaven.

*Snap*

That’s when i noticed that even if i wanted to escape with the lid open, it wasn’t going to happen.

Pete had installed a tie-off point in the box which He locked an ankle cuff to with a chain.  i wasn’t going anywhere.

He reached up to grab a few more short pieces of chain, which used to tether the two ankles together, my paws together, and one last chain about two feet long to connect the feet to the ankles.  Even if i could get out of the box, i wasn’t going to be on two feet.

“Two more things,” Pete said as He reached onto a shelf behind him.

The first was a clear plastic bag which with a long hose attached.  This He attached to the catheter and laid at my feet.

“When you have to pee, that’s going to collect it all.  What happens to that pee after… we’ll see how good of a boy you are.”

He chuckled.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

He then reached up and grabbed our Camelpak that we’ve used so many times before when i’ve been bagged up on His jobsites.

“Now, this has three liters of Gatorade in it.  No drinking it tonight,” He said as He affixed a spigot near my mouth. “It’s gotta last you through tomorrow, so drink it sparingly.  A sip an hour at most tomorrow.  You understand?”

“Woof, woof!”

“Good boy.”

Pete looked around, making sure He hadn’t forgotten anything before bending down into my face.

“Sadly, since your cage is at the new house, boy, you can’t sleep in the house tonight.  So your last night here will be in this box.  But it’ll be a wild adventure tomorrow — just wait and see.  Well, maybe not see.  But you’ll enjoy it – I promise.”

With that, He stopped the music on the speakers and shut them off and started toward the garage door.  The lights went out in the garage leaving me in darkness.

“Sleep well, pup.”

The door closed, and i exhaled a sigh of exhaustion.

i closed my eyes and started to drift off.

* * *

*flick, flick*

*buzz*

As the sound of electricity surged through the garage, the fluorescent lights hummed to life filling the space with bright greenish-white light.  It was enough to wake me up.

The sound of flip flops clopped along the floor toward me.  i opened my eyes and looked up to see the towering figure of Pete over top of me.

He was clad in a white tank and grey sweats which were tight in all the right places and baggy where they needed to be. He stood holding a cup of coffee as a broad smile crossed His scruffy face as He looked down at me — restrained and exactly where He left me.

“Good morning, pup,” He said, taking a sip of His coffee.

He looked well rested and ready to take on the day.

“Woof, woof,” i groggily replied. i slept – not well, but enough to wake up at whatever this ungodly hour was.

“Aww,” He said, feeling only a tiny bit bad for my condition – knowing deep down inside we both were rather happy with the state i was in.

He bent down to scratch my head and examine my restraints to make sure everything still looked okay.  Satisfied, He smiled and looked me in the eyes.

“Well, the guys will be here in a couple of hours, and you should probably start to get ready for your storage for the day.”

“Woof, woof,” i started to show my excitement.

He put His coffee cup on a shelf behind him as i was barking.  Looking around the garage, He found a few more items that were going to get packed along with me.  He rounded up a heavy work jacket, another pair of overalls and a pair of rubber boots, and threw in the box along with me, covering me in His work jacket.

i smiled knowing i was being kept under cover by him.

“The rules should be no surprise for you,” He said, His facing growing a bit more stern. “No talking, no woofing, no sounds at all.  I don’t want to gag you, so you’re going to have to keep yourself under control and your mouth shut.”

i nodded my head to indicate i understood everything He just laid out.

“It’s going to be late by the time I let you out,” He continued. “I’ll probably have a few beer in Me, so you should be ready for some service.”

Pete smiled at the thought of His pup doing double duty as a urinal and as a fuck toy.

“Okay, well,” He said as He put His hands on the lid. “See you at the new house, boy.”

And with that, the lid eased down and plunged me into darkness.  The sound of metal on metal clanged as i remembered the recessed padlocks which were embedded in the box. i heard one shackle engage and then the other. With that, i was locked inside, and only Pete had the keys to free me.

The next couple of hours seemed to pass quickly as i phased in and out of sleep.

It was the sound of Pete’s truck starting up that truly woke me up.  The heavy duty engine roared to life, echoing through the garage as the overhead door opened.  i heard the truck back out of the garage and slowly the sound faded away.

A couple of minutes later i could hear multiple pairs of boots making their way back into the space.

“So, we’ll start with the garage, Boys,” Pete intoned to the group as He gave their marching orders for the day.

“The job box should go in the trailer first,” He said, talking about the steel capsule that held me. “I don’t need anything out of it anytime soon – it’s just some storage so it can be last to come off at the new place. We can pack everything else around it and on it.”

First on, last off.  Fuck. This is going to be a long day.

Pete gave directions on the rest of the garage and how things were meant to be packed up before going into the house with the guys to give them the lowdown on what needed to get done.

Some time passed before i heard them return to the garage laughing and talking.  They got close to the job box and i could hear the steel handles be pulled from the sides to lift it.  i clamed my lips together to make sure i didn’t utter a sound.

i felt the balance of the box shift as it started to get lifted off the ground. Before long, i felt that undeniable sensation of the box moving.

The guys crossed the garage and up the wooden ramp into a very hollow-sounding trailer.  They made it all the way to the back wall and plopped the box on the ground.

“I’ve got it,” i could hear Pete tell the other guy.  “I’ll get it in place – head back inside.”

Boots clomped away from the trailer and i could sense Pete was still with me.  i felt the box shift and turn and be pushed into place.  Pete was deliberate in making sure my sole air source – a rubber port hole at the back of the box – wasn’t flush with the wall so i could still get some air.

*knock knock*

i could hear the metal clang as He banged on the lid to let me know this was it… this was where i’d be now for quite a while.

i heard boots drift off into the distance and eventually the sound of silence.

This was actually happening.

i exhaled.

The sounds of boots came and went for what felt like an eternity, placing more boxes beside, on top of, and around the job box that i was locked inside.  The whole while, those helping Pete move not knowing the human cargo they were burying inside the trailer.

The sound became more and more faint as the boxes took up space inside the trailer, blocking me from the outside world.

All those Saturdays bagged up in the back of Pete’s truck had prepared me for this, i think.  The boredom was very real.  But i coped well with it.

i closed my eyes, i focused on my breathing, i dozed off.

Eventually, a loud clashing sound of metal on metal woke me up.  At best, i could assume the trailer door was closed.

More time passed, and then i heard the distinct rumble of a large pickup engine roar to life.

Slowly, i could feel motion.  The truck and trailer began to roll along.  We were actually moving.

In this moment, it was hard not to think about what was actually happening to me.  Much like all the other things Pete owned, i was being moved to the new house.  Not as a pup, not as a person, but as a possession.  He had packed me in a rigid box, locked me inside to prevent anyone from accessing me, all to take me to His new home.  A home which had been built with me in mind, with spaces to keep me subservient and objectified.

The truck picked up speed and i could feel the tires hit the road.

We were off to Pete’s new home.

To be continued …

Metal would like to than pwnedpuppy for this story, which is a sequel to Truckbound.

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 shoot from the Bound Gods vault, featuring Brenn Wyson, Brian Bonds and Leo Forte

To see a preview video, click here

See all Bound Gods here

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