In My Bondage Dreams (IMBD)

Leo and Ryan snapped cuffs on his wrists, locking them to the eyebolt’s chains taut. Leo grabbed a rope coil from the wall, looping it around Marcus’s ankles, knotting them tight to the lower bolts, boots creaking against the strain. Jamie tightened the ankle ropes, latex squeaking.

Marcus’s chest rose, glinting under the light.

Ryan grabbed a stack of candles black, red, and white from the cabinet, tossing them on the counter with a clatter. “Light ‘em burn him.”

Leo snatched a black candle, striking a match from the counter flame flaring as wax pooled. “You built this feel it,” he said, tilting it over Marcus’s left pec a thin stream dripping, hissing sharp, red flaring. Marcus jolted, “Fuck that burns!” teeth gritting, nipple hardening.

Ryan lit a white candle, holding it steady ‘til wax brimmed. “Semper fi,” he growled, tipping it slow a thick wave spilling over Marcus’s right pec, searing wide, coating scars. Marcus bucked, screaming, “SHIT TOO HOT!” chest heaving, jeans tenting, “Stop”.

Jamie struck a match, lighting a red candle, flame flickering. “King’s bacon,” he rasped. Leo smirked, “Drip it light I hit harder.” Jamie snapped, “Fuck off mine’ll sear,” tipping precise drops down Marcus’s sternum sizzling, pooling. Marcus arched, “GODDAMN IT FUCK YOU BOTH!” bursting out, dick throbbing.

Leo laughed. “Screaming already?” Ryan grunted, “Burns like a bitch.” Marcus gasped, glare wild, flexing wax cracking then snarled, “That all? Pit’s seen worse untie me!” thrill lacing the edge, wax hardening streaks, patches, dots over red welts.

Leo smirked as he unfastened Marcus’s wrist cuffs, his chaps rasping faintly against the table’s edge. “Still king?” he taunted, voice dripping with mockery, his hard on straining painfully against the cage locked tight around him. Ryan, kneeling by the bondage bed, loosened the ankle ropes with a grunt, Marcus’s boots scuffing free against the leather surface, his own erection throbbing visibly beneath his scuffed leather pants. Jamie, his latex gleaming under the red lights, gripped Marcus’s arm and hauled him upright, the squeak of his outfit cutting through the pit’s heavy air, his bulge pulsing hard against the slick material. Marcus rose, his chest raw and crusted with hardened wax, red welts peeking through the flaking patches, his jeans stretched tight over a rigid hard on earned through the ordeal.

The four of them trudged back to the table, boots and latex echoing in the dim, sweat soaked space. Marcus led the way, his stride stiff but commanding, the outline of his arousal stark against the denim. Leo followed, his wild eyes glinting with twisted thrill, chaps brushing his thighs as his caged erection strained with every step, a frustrated edge to his gait. Ryan trailed with a slow, deliberate pace, vest creased, his hard on pressing insistently against his leather pants. Jamie shuffled behind, breath still uneven, latex slick with perspiration, his throbbing bulge shifting with each move. They sank into their chairs Marcus with a heavy slump, Leo with a restless lean, Ryan sprawling back, and Jamie hunching forward. Each grabbed a beer from the table’s center, the glass cool against their heated skin. Marcus took a long, slow swig, the cold liquid cutting through the heat still radiating from his chest, his arousal unyielding. Leo gulped his down fast, a bead of condensation rolling onto his knuckles as he shifted, cage biting into his straining hard on. Ryan sipped steadily, cap shadowing his smirk, his erection a persistent ache in his tight pants. Jamie drank in short, ragged pulls, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand, his latex tenting with unrelieved tension.

Tossing the bag to Leo with a flick of his wrist, Marcus rasped, “Your turn, wave boy make it bleed.” He slumped deeper into his chair, fingers peeling wax flakes from his scarred chest, the red welts glaring beneath as he smirked at the satisfying crack of each piece breaking free, his hard on still rigid beneath the denim. “Pit’s mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive, the air around them thick with defiance, lust, and lingering heat.

Previous Chapter Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Leo and Ryan snapped cuffs on his wrists, locking them to the eyebolt’s chains taut. Leo grabbed a rope coil from the wall, looping it around Marcus’s ankles, knotting them tight to the lower bolts, boots creaking against the strain. Jamie tightened the ankle ropes, latex squeaking.

Marcus’s chest rose, glinting under the light.

Ryan grabbed a stack of candles black, red, and white from the cabinet, tossing them on the counter with a clatter. “Light ‘em burn him.”

Leo snatched a black candle, striking a match from the counter flame flaring as wax pooled. “You built this feel it,” he said, tilting it over Marcus’s left pec a thin stream dripping, hissing sharp, red flaring. Marcus jolted, “Fuck that burns!” teeth gritting, nipple hardening.

Ryan lit a white candle, holding it steady ‘til wax brimmed. “Semper fi,” he growled, tipping it slow a thick wave spilling over Marcus’s right pec, searing wide, coating scars. Marcus bucked, screaming, “SHIT TOO HOT!” chest heaving, jeans tenting, “Stop”.

Jamie struck a match, lighting a red candle, flame flickering. “King’s bacon,” he rasped. Leo smirked, “Drip it light I hit harder.” Jamie snapped, “Fuck off mine’ll sear,” tipping precise drops down Marcus’s sternum sizzling, pooling. Marcus arched, “GODDAMN IT FUCK YOU BOTH!” bursting out, dick throbbing.

Leo laughed. “Screaming already?” Ryan grunted, “Burns like a bitch.” Marcus gasped, glare wild, flexing wax cracking then snarled, “That all? Pit’s seen worse untie me!” thrill lacing the edge, wax hardening streaks, patches, dots over red welts.

Leo smirked as he unfastened Marcus’s wrist cuffs, his chaps rasping faintly against the table’s edge. “Still king?” he taunted, voice dripping with mockery, his hard on straining painfully against the cage locked tight around him. Ryan, kneeling by the bondage bed, loosened the ankle ropes with a grunt, Marcus’s boots scuffing free against the leather surface, his own erection throbbing visibly beneath his scuffed leather pants. Jamie, his latex gleaming under the red lights, gripped Marcus’s arm and hauled him upright, the squeak of his outfit cutting through the pit’s heavy air, his bulge pulsing hard against the slick material. Marcus rose, his chest raw and crusted with hardened wax, red welts peeking through the flaking patches, his jeans stretched tight over a rigid hard on earned through the ordeal.

The four of them trudged back to the table, boots and latex echoing in the dim, sweat soaked space. Marcus led the way, his stride stiff but commanding, the outline of his arousal stark against the denim. Leo followed, his wild eyes glinting with twisted thrill, chaps brushing his thighs as his caged erection strained with every step, a frustrated edge to his gait. Ryan trailed with a slow, deliberate pace, vest creased, his hard on pressing insistently against his leather pants. Jamie shuffled behind, breath still uneven, latex slick with perspiration, his throbbing bulge shifting with each move. They sank into their chairs Marcus with a heavy slump, Leo with a restless lean, Ryan sprawling back, and Jamie hunching forward. Each grabbed a beer from the table’s center, the glass cool against their heated skin. Marcus took a long, slow swig, the cold liquid cutting through the heat still radiating from his chest, his arousal unyielding. Leo gulped his down fast, a bead of condensation rolling onto his knuckles as he shifted, cage biting into his straining hard on. Ryan sipped steadily, cap shadowing his smirk, his erection a persistent ache in his tight pants. Jamie drank in short, ragged pulls, wiping his mouth with a trembling hand, his latex tenting with unrelieved tension.

Tossing the bag to Leo with a flick of his wrist, Marcus rasped, “Your turn, wave boy make it bleed.” He slumped deeper into his chair, fingers peeling wax flakes from his scarred chest, the red welts glaring beneath as he smirked at the satisfying crack of each piece breaking free, his hard on still rigid beneath the denim. “Pit’s mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive, the air around them thick with defiance, lust, and lingering heat.

Previous Chapter Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8