In My Bondage Dreams (IMBD)

Ryan flicked his die. It bounced once and stopped on three. “Three. Shit, that’s low.”

Leo rolled fast. The cube rattled across the table and settled on six. “Six. Fuck, dodged it.”

Marcus threw his die. It clinked against the wood and stopped on six. “Six. Guess I’m swinging too.”

Marcus leaned forward, belt buckle glinting, voice a rough growl. “Ryan’s three. Jarhead’s caught. Six and six. Twelve minutes of hell. Leo, move your ass. Drag those platforms over there, ten feet apart under the hoist. Pig, jarhead, get on the boxes now.” He stood, boots thudding, and jerked his head toward the shadowed corner.

Leo grumbled, hauling himself up, chaps rasping as he shuffled over. He grabbed two wooden boxes, rough and portable, about a foot high, dragging them across the concrete. The scrape echoed loudly as he set them where Marcus pointed, ten feet apart. Jamie and Ryan trudged over, stepping up onto their platforms, Jamie’s boots thudding, Ryan’s scuffing, hands loose at their sides as they waited grimly.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ryan muttered, cap low.

Marcus strode to the rope wall, yanking two long coils free and doubling them with a snap. He threaded both through the hoist hook, letting the ends dangle, then hit the winch remote. The mechanism whirred as the hook rose all the way to the ceiling.

“Leo, grab two pairs of leather wrist restraints off the wall. Move.”

Leo trudged to the wall, unhooking two sets of leather wrist restraints from their pegs, the leather creaking in his grip. He tossed one pair to Marcus, who caught it midair, then stepped to Jamie.

“Hands front,” Leo said, buckling the leather wrist restraints on Jamie’s wrists, tight and unyielding.

Marcus moved to Ryan. “Hands up, jarhead,” fastening the leather wrist restraints around Ryan’s wrists in front, leather biting as he locked them shut.

Marcus barked, “Leo, tie this end to Ryan’s restraints.” He handed Leo one dangling rope end from the first coil. Leo grabbed it, knotting it to Ryan’s restraints with a rough tug. Marcus picked up one end of the second coil and passed it to Leo. “Now this to Jamie’s restraints.” Leo crossed to Jamie, tying it secure, the second rope now running from Jamie’s restraints through the hoist.

Marcus growled, “Hands up high. Both of you. Now.” Jamie and Ryan raised their restrained hands high.

While Leo stepped back, Marcus grabbed the remaining end of the first coil and stepped to Jamie. He peeled Jamie’s latex pants down an inch, fabric stretching as Jamie’s cock sprang free, rigid and dripping pre-cum under the red lights. Marcus wrapped the rope around Jamie’s balls, cinching it tight.

Jamie bucked. “Cold as hell!”

Marcus moved to Ryan with the remaining end of the second coil. He unzipped Ryan’s leather pants slowly, leather parting as Ryan’s hard-on pushed forward, thick and leaking. Marcus tied the rope snug around Ryan’s balls.

Ryan hissed. “Fuck. Tight!”

The first rope stretched from Ryan’s restraints to Jamie’s balls. The second ran from Jamie’s restraints to Ryan’s balls, both lines pulled taut through the hoist.

Marcus hit the winch again. The motor whirred as the hook tightened further, both ropes going rigid. Jamie and Ryan’s hands stayed high, rope biting into their wrists, balls stretched right to the edge of pain, cocks twitching against their half-open pants. Marcus stepped back, arms crossed, grinning dark.

“Here’s the deal, boys. If either of you drop your hands, it’ll tug the other’s nuts hard. If you don’t want revenge fucking you later, keep them up.”

Jamie tested it first, easing his hands down an inch. The rope snapped tight and Ryan’s balls jerked.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Ryan shouted, jolting as his hands snapped back up.

Ryan retaliated, dipping his wrists slightly. Jamie’s balls yanked hard.

“Shit. Asshole!” Jamie growled as he steadied, arms trembling high again.

Marcus chuckled low. “One last thing.” He strode to the wall, grabbing a leather blindfold and turning to Jamie. “This is part of your dare, pig. You can’t judge what’s coming.” He stepped up and buckled it tight over Jamie’s eyes, darkness swallowing his grimace.

Marcus turned, heading to the wall where whips and crops hung, barking over his shoulder, “Leo, you’re on Jamie. Grab one and let’s go.” Leo started toward the wall, then paused, smirking. “I don’t think so.” He veered to Ryan, bending down and yanking the riding crop tucked in Ryan’s boot, slim and wicked. “This one’s mine, jarhead. Suits me better.”

Ryan glared, voice low and steady. “No matter how hard this fucker tries to break me, he’s gonna fail.”

Leo slapped the crop against his palm, grinning jagged.

Marcus shrugged, snatching a crop from the wall and gripping it tight. “Fine. Count every hit together. Falter adds a minute.” He set the timer to 12:00, the beep cutting the air. “Go.”

Leo swung first. Crack. Ryan’s ass jumped, leather scuffed, his cage straining like there was no tomorrow.

“One!” they barked, voices raw.

Marcus followed. Crack. Jamie’s chest flared red through the latex shirt, his jeans tenting hard.

“Two!”

Jamie’s blind flinch yanked Ryan’s balls and a grunt tore out.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands up!” Ryan snarled, arms trembling.

Jamie spat back, “Can’t see shit. You’re pulling!”

Crack. Marcus’s crop welted Jamie’s abs through the shirt, his bulge throbbing.

“Three!”

Ryan’s wrists twitched and Jamie’s balls jerked again.

“Fuck!” Jamie gasped.

Leo’s chaps bulged against the cage.

Leo struck low. Crack. Ryan’s thighs stung through the leather.

“Four!”

Their rhythm held.

Ryan glared at Leo. “Steady, wave boy, or I’ll snap you.”

Leo chuckled and swung again.

Crack.

“Five!”

Ryan’s back arched under the vest while Marcus’s grip tightened on his crop, his own hard-on clear.

Minute three.

Marcus aimed high.

Crack.

Jamie’s chest screamed through the latex, jeans straining.

“Six!”

The rope tugged Ryan’s sack and a growl rumbled from him.

“Quit fuckin’ moving, pig!”

Jamie hissed back, “Blind, asshole. Deal with it.”

Leo’s cage creaked, pre-cum dotting his chaps.

Leo struck fast.

Crack.

Ryan’s chest flared under the vest, tags swinging.

“Seven!”

Their voices cracked, the rhythm slipping.

Marcus paused, crop raised. “Off. Extra minute.” He added an extra minute to the timer. “Again.”

Jamie cursed. “Fuck you, Marcus!”

Crack.

The crop bit his ass through the latex pants, heat sinking deep.

“Eight!”

Ryan’s arms shook and Jamie’s balls jerked again.

A muffled “Shit!” slipped from him.

Leo’s cage strained near bursting.

Minute six.

Leo swung hard.

Crack.

Ryan’s shoulders welted through leather.

“Nine!”

Their shout came ragged. The rope creaked as Jamie swayed under the blindfold. Ryan’s balls strained.

“Hold it, pig!” Ryan roared as the box wobbled beneath him.

Marcus’s hard-on stood rigid.

Minute nine.

Marcus grinned.

The crop whistled.

Crack.

Jamie’s thighs flushed red through the latex.

“Ten!”

Their voices broke, rope stretched tight.

Leo struck.

Crack.

Ryan’s ass burned through the leather.

“Eleven!”

Both men gasped, hands quaking.

Minute twelve.

Leo aimed high.

Crack.

Ryan’s chest welted beneath the vest.

“Twelve!”

Their rhythm frayed, arms burning.

Marcus finished.

Crack.

Jamie’s back stung through the latex, jeans bulging.

“Thirteen!”

Both voices came hoarse, ropes trembling.

The timer hit 13:00. Beep.

Marcus dropped the winch and the ropes slackened. Jamie and Ryan collapsed onto their boxes, knees buckling beneath them. Marcus untied Jamie’s balls, then removed his leather wrist restraints, the blindfold coming off last as Jamie’s eyes blinked wild. Leo freed Ryan’s sack, then removed the leather wrist restraints, Ryan rubbing his wrists with a smoldering glare.

Jamie slid off his box, latex slick with sweat, fumbling with shaky hands to tuck his hard, throbbing cock, still dripping, back into his latex pants, cursing under his breath as it fought the tight fit. He staggered to the table and sank into his chair. Ryan eased down from his platform, vest creased, struggling to shove his thick, leaking dick back into his leather pants, grunting as it resisted before hauling himself to the table and dropping into his seat.

Marcus strode to the small fridge in the shadowed corner and pulled out a handful of beers. He popped the caps with quick hisses, the cold glass fogging instantly in the warm pit air.

“Here, you earned it,” he growled, voice low and rough. “That round damn near tore you apart. Drink up.”

He set the bottles on the table. Leather and latex creaked as they reached for them, hands still trembling slightly from the strain, then tilted them back in long steady gulps. The cold brew cut through the sweat and adrenaline still buzzing under their skin.

For a long moment the only sounds were the quiet glug of beer and the faint drip of condensation hitting the scarred wood.

Ryan flexed his hands once, rolling the tension out of his wrists, then glanced at Jamie.

Not a glare this time. Something sharper.

Jamie caught it. Held it. Neither of them said a word.

Previous Chapter Links

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7