mitchmen by Mitchell

Mitchell

This post is a guide to what you will find in the mitchmen Club at Adonis Male

The mitchmen Club is the principal archive of Mitchell's published stories and pictures. There are two sections - Images and Files. Most of Mitchell's pictures are published as illustrations to his stories, and the material at mitchmen Club is organised to reflect that. Thus, in the 'Images' section, the pictures are grouped by story into folders. The 'files' section contains a PDF for each story, with the images integrated into the text as it was originally published.

There are also a few themed image folders containing pictures that don't belong in a story.

These are the image folders as of June 2025:-

2007 Royal Navy Press Gang

A Royal Navy Captain decides to bring his crew up to strength by reviving the ancient tradition of sending out a Press Gang to forcibly recruit suitable men. 23 images.

The Pipe Frame

2007-2010 Bondage Furniture

A collection of 12 ideas for furnishing your dungeon

2008 Inspired by Tom of Finland

A collection of 14 images based on Tom's classic drawings but given a mitchmen flavour.

2008 The Cactus Kid (Part-1)

How The Cactus Kid got his name - and lost his birthright.

A young scientist is wrongly suspected of stealing gold from a rancher's land.

19 images

Tie Him to an Anchor 'Til He's Sober

2008 What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?

The well-known Sea Shanty is given a 'mitchmen' twist

with imagery derived from the traditional words - and some saucy new verses!

22 images.

2008 The Randy Erector

A poetic account of irregular behaviour on a building site.

A Construction Site foreman takes drastic action to impose discipline on a randy builder.

14 images

2008 The Strange case of Manley RFC

How a trainer's unorthodox training measures

put Manley Rugby Football Club on the path to success.

15 images.

Boys on the Balcony

2008-10 Loving feelings

A collection of 11 images by Mitchell exploring the many colours of gay love.

Compulsory Cleansing

2008-13 S&M Clinic (with notes)

Following the publication of a damning report on the health of the nation's male population, the S&M Clinic summonses the men of the town for mandatory assessment (and treatment, if required) - for their own good. 61 images

Tough Guy Overpowered

2009 Neighbourhood Cops Fighting Crime

Crime levels have been rising relentlessly in Mitchville, but Commissioner Hardman has the answer. He's instructed his cops to introduce new '4S' powers:- Stop, Strip, Search and Secure, ready for transit to a 'no tolerance' holding centre, where they can be dealt with more thoroughly. The bad guys have no idea what is about to hit them!......... 57 images

The Guard's Temptation

2009 The Desert Rat

A short story about a 'Desert Rat' (i.e. A soldier in the British 8th Army fighting in North Africa during WW2). Sent to recce an enemy position, he is captured and interrogated. One of my earliest stories. 7 images.

Strip Search

2010 Fortunes of War

A British Army peace-keeping patrol stumble across suspicious activity in an alleyway.

15 images

Initiation

2010 The Legend of the Path of Pain

An Association of Leathermen realise that their numbers are declining and the organisation seems to be losing its old vitality. The leaders set out on a quest to rejuvenate the group. It climaxes in an audacious adventure which sets them on a new path, but not the one they had expected.

An illustrated story in 7 parts with literary and legendary connections. 61 images.

Training Methods

2010-14 Sporting Losers

A Collection of 11 Short Stories built around images by Mitchell

of Sporting Heroes in Trouble. 15 images.

Under The Moon

2011 Hunk On A Chaise

A story about a nightclub pick-up and the attraction of opposites. 15 images

Underwear Ad

2011-19 Naive Models

Four stories about the pitfalls of public performance. 7 images

2011 Squaddie Steve

The story of a Soldier Stripper whose audience chase him into the stern arms of the real Army.

14 images. A spin-off from Naive Models

Careful With The Candles

2011 This Christmas...... ......will be different!

A mitchmenesque, dysfunctional celebration of family, festive traditions
in a series of images.

The Olympic Torch Relay Makes A Detour

2012 London Olympics Sketchbook

14 stories inspired by the 2012 London Olympic Games.
Covering a variety of sports with contemporary political comment

Tempted By His Trunks

2012 Olympic Pool Pisser

A story of a swimmer who pissed in the Olympic Pool

and paid the price (incomplete). 14 images

His Shorts Are In The Sin Bin, But Training Continues

2013 The PT Class

A collection of images about men in gym shorts and other gym gear

learning lessons from their betters.

Inspired by Royale Studio's 'PT Class'. 23 images

Strangers Sharing Their First Lesson

2013-16 The Flat Cap Gang 1 & 2

Long-running story about a young Policeman trying to solve the mystery of multiple disappearances of sportsmen and his fellow Officers. He finds himself discovering his sexuality at the same time. Meanwhile, his kidnapped police mentor undergoes the agonies of being trained for sexual service like a dog. (Ongoing). 97 images

A Burglar's Christmas Lesson

2015 A Christmas Criminal

A complete story in colour. An unemployed man decides to get money for Christmas from those more fortunate than himself. But it leads to a torrid Christmas Eve.

Not on Adonis Male yet, the link takes you to the serialisation at mitchmen blog. 41 images.

Caned By The Opposing Team

2017 Mitchell's 2nd XV Rugby Team

A series recounting episodes of life and customs in the mitchmen rugby league.

15 players, 15 pictures, 15 rugby related 'incidents' to stir your imagination.

A sort of sequel to the story of Manley RFC (my 1st XV).

Brick Regains Consciousness

2018 'Brick' and the Mad Scientists

The tragic story of a hard-up body builder who volunteers for a drug testing trial to pay his rent.

He finds it much harder than he expected. 32 images.

Tied To The Training Gate

Cowboy Folio

A compilation of Mitchell's drawings originally inspired by the Cowboy films and TV series of the 50s and 60s and their sexy protagonists - Ty Hardin (Bronco), Robert Fuller (Laramie), Clint Eastwood (Rawhide) and Clint Walker. Sadly, they didn't get stripped and tied up very often, so I thought I ought to put that right. (Ongoing, 24 currently)

Humour

A collection of Mitchell's images with a humorous flavour. Some have been previously published as part of other series of stories. More will be added from time to time. 14 images.

The Night Visitor

Mitchmen in Colour

Occasionally I colour my images, this album contains 17 examples,

including explicit ones which I can't publish at My Deviant Art Page.

Jogger Horsewhipped for Trespassing

Spanking Gallery 1

A collection of 16 spanking images which are standalone and do not come from the stories.

Tightly Bound Collection

Bondage is the central theme of Mitchell's art.

Tight wrapping makes the captive male body into an art form.

Most of these images do not appear in the Stories.

~

Interested?

Visit The 'mitchmen Club' at Adonis Male

Joining is free

You have to join Adonis Male first (also free and giving you access to the vast array of homoerotic and gay porn there).

Post 5 comments anywhere to unlock free downloads

Mitchell

Baseline Volley by SoreButtGuys at Deviant Art
captioned by mitchmen

All these images from his "Tennis Brats" series

Tennis Brat Treatment

Enjoying Their Job

Mitchell

Start reading at Part 1

Day 4

8

After a night of humiliation at the hands of the Guards, I had to face my torturers the next day clad only in underpants. Even they were not my own clothes, for my guards had either destroyed, or taken for souvenirs, every item of clothing that I had on. As a sop to my modesty, they gave me a pair of underpants taken from another prisoner. He had no further need of them, they said and out of spite, they told me his name. It was one of my comrades who had disappeared some 3 months earlier, while on the same mission as myself. I was trained not to react to barbs like this or dwell on the truth of them, but the symbolism of losing the last of my possessions did hit me hard.

I felt like I had been condemned to extinction.

Having been suspended by my wrists during those long, cruel hours of darkness, it was a perverse pleasure to be taken down and spread-eagled on an X-cross instead. I was still tied up and defenceless, but able to stand on my feet again. It was obvious that this restraint would enable the interrogator to attack all parts of my body, if I continued to deny him the information that he wanted. However, he surprised me by producing, not some ferocious flesh destroyer, but an incongruous, small batten of wood. It looked like it was fresh from a DIY shop, an unwelcome reminder of the normal world that was carrying on outside the walls of my prison, oblivious of my plight.

The Interrogator complimented me on my physique, running his hands over my abs and acknowledging that I had been well-trained. Then he proceeded to apply his stick to my torso, landing vicious blows on it from all angles. That batten might have been small, but by heavens it stung! As time went by, the cumulative effect of hundreds of blows from it, switching between the flat sides and the sharper edges, generated a fiery furnace of pain all over my body. He beat me with it patiently, conserving his energy, so my agony might last as long as possible.

9

After a while he stopped, looked at my bruised body and sighed, as if in regret. Then he went to his bench and returned with a second batten. He used them simultaneously to beat both sides of my body. The effect of the wood smacking my abs had dulled by them, but when he switched to my ribs, the pain was excruciating. I'm ashamed to say that I gasped, quite loudly. My torturer smiled, then hit me again. I managed better control of my responses the second time, but it was difficult. My struggle to remain silent was obvious. That made him smile again, for it was a sign, a small one, that I was losing, and he was winning. We both knew that, and I trembled inside.

Before he left to take his lunch, he signed off with the battens by rasping their rough cut edges across my body like a saw. My bruised skin was repeatedly pricked and punctured by splinters, with many of them breaking off and sticking in me. He was playing a childish game, but left me with widespread soreness that returned every time I stretched to relieve the stress of the prolonged restraint.

After he had gone, to my surprise, the Guards took me down and gave me a small but nourishing meal. I ate it appreciatively, imagining that someone, at least, wanted to keep me alive. But for what? As soon as I had finished, they tied me up again.

10

When the torturer returned, the games continued. It was clear he was beginning to enjoy the task of wearing me down, waiting for me to crack. He was relying on time and repeated attacks to persuade me, rather than extreme wounding. This time he took up a wooden paddle with which to torment me.

I'd experienced the paddle before. It looks slightly comical, but its flat surface produces a wider spread of pain. The holes in it ensure that air making way for its delivery do not impair the impact. It is most effective on large muscle groups and so is widely used for buttock spanking. Naturally, my Trainers hadn't spared me that experience and humiliation, although they claimed to think it beneath them. I wasn't convinced about that after experiencing their efforts, but my torturer seemed to share their view, he made no move to turn me round to feel its sting on my behind. Instead, he applied it to my pecs and thighs, two areas which had largely escaped his attention in the morning.

Vast new areas of fiery pain erupted to torment me.

11

It was a long, long day and it left me raw, bruised and physically exhausted. My borrowed underpants were sopping wet from profuse perspiration, but thankfully, the relatively low level of brutality had spared me the humiliation of losing all control of my organs. I was glad it was over, but, tomorrow would be another day of torment and before that, I faced another night at the mercy of the Guards.

Day 5

12

My Guards must have lost interest in me that night, for I slept right through. There had been visitors, I could tell, for when I awoke, my underwear was round my ankles and there were deposits on my skin. But I hadn't been treated badly enough to wake me up. Perhaps some other unfortunate soul had claimed the attention of the brutalisers.

As usual, the Guards took me straight from my cell to the interrogation room after I had eaten. This time, however, instead of tying me to the cross or a post, they simply shackled my ankles, tethered my wrists to a dangling chain and left me standing in the middle of the room. I stood like that for about an hour, puzzling over this turn of events. Had something happened? Was my torture ended?

These foolish thoughts were immediately extinguished when my tormentor returned to resume his painstaking exploration of my inner reserves. To my horror, he was brandishing a bull-whip which made the reason for the changed restraints perfectly clear - he was going to work all over my body and wanted no obstacles to impair his lashes. The ploy of keeping me waiting had softened me up nicely, for I immediately began to tremble with fear. He gleefully used the stock of the whip to lift my chin and make his usual request, was I going to talk?

13

It took all my courage to refuse once again.

Seconds later, the whip fell across my body and all the previous bruises re-erupted.

It was just the start of a slow-paced barrage of lashes that spared no part of my body.

14

Before long, I was on my knees blubbering.

But I had the strength to refuse to give in and tell them what I knew.

15

My reward was a barrage of kicking and whiplashes which sent me sprawling.

I lost consciousness.

16

I can recall very little of what happened after that. I woke up in a primitive, wooden shack with 3 other prisoners. They nursed me back to some semblance of health, until my captors decided I was fit to work in the quarry, which was just outside our hut. This is the place I now call home.

As soon as I was able, I searched for my missing comrade, the man whose underpants I still wore, but I did not find him, only more strangers, most of whom did not speak my language. As I became better acquainted with my new companions, I was able to join in their secret, nightly intimacies, which were unexpectedly tender and comforting. Necessarily so, because of the patrolling guards who might otherwise hear us.

In reality, though, my only real bond with them is our experience of the Orange Room, of which none of us ever speak. Whether I broke and talked or kept my silence until they gave up trying, I cannot say. It doesn't matter, because I know for sure that my mission ended in failure. It gives me no comfort to have escaped death when my other comrades may well have perished, for I have still paid a terrible price for my failure.

17

It's hard work, breaking the stones and carrying them to the collection point where the lorries come to pick them up. I soon discovered that slackers quickly feel the whip, and that invoked such terrible memories for me that I take care not to provoke the overseers if I can help it.

I think about escaping sometimes, but the fire in my belly has gone out. The fear of more, remorseless punishment has finally quenched my spirit. My comrades seem to feel the same, although none of us talk of our past lives or what we endured to get to here. I am one of the lucky ones, supposedly.

So I wield my sledgehammer and count the hours 'til the next meal, which is usually quite nourishing and designed to keep us alive and working. The alternative would be starvation rations until we die.

I'm not sure which is the worse fate of the two.

~

Imagery for this story is from 'Mercenary Nick' at Real Chained Heroes.

The star is 'Robert' flaunting his fabulous physique.

Go to Part 1