The Great Rugby Take Down

For a couple of weeks, I've been trailing images of Rugby Players in bondage.

Now comes the deluge!

"Those bastards!"

A burly rugby player has been tied up and left out in pouring rain on a muddy pitch.

Broad chest, chunky thighs, this image knocked my socks off when I saw it. 

He's a handsome man, but the image also somehow captures something of a beast in him.

Now he is tethered, totally helpless, exposed to the elements in a public place. 

Frustration. Discomfort. Humiliation.

Is this a prank played on him by other members of the team? 

Another mighty beast left face down in the mud, even more humiliated.

It looks like there was quite a struggle before this one could be subdued.

Defeated, he lies with his tight-fitting kit clinging sexily to his contours in the rain.

His colours have a Scottish flavour, an interesting sight for English eyes.

"You've had enough warnings!"

This time we can see who is tying up the captive up, he looks like one of the training staff.

The hogtie has been made a shade nastier, with a loop around the player's neck,

That should keep him stranded in his own private puddle of muddy water.

A teammate seems to be approaching in the distance, 

Is he going to intervene? Rescue? Or just gloat?

"Go on then! Do your worst!"

This is one way of settling a long-running dispute between two bulls.

Forcing them to confront each other with muscles and emotions securely under wraps.

Instead of fighting to decide who's No 1, they can have a tug of war across the halfway line.

The short rope is a deliberate choice, it matches their short fuses.

Now they find themselves physically close in a shared predicament.

Who knows what chemistry is about to evolve between them?

A stadium full of spectators looks on expectantly.

I want to have a word with you, Fergus, about your on-field behaviour

It's not all bad news, the Sin Bin has acquired comfortable bench seats (in case there's a crowd) and quilted walls which help ensure that what happens in there does not each the ears of the media. There's now a fourth Match Official tasked with the dual roles of (a) Calming the anger and over-excitement of miscreants and (b) Putting the fear of God in them so they don't reoffend (for a while). 

A middle ranking military background is considered ideal for this position, and unfortunately for Fergus this one specialised in covert abductions and is of the opinion that the only good villain is a tied-up one. He has just demonstrated to Fergus the ease with which he can do it to him. Naturally, Fergus mouths off, but the only response is a puff of cigar smoke which envelops his face. 

"Now then my lad, let's get down to brass tacks" the official says, eyeing Fergie's crotch.

"I'm waiting, Doyle" 

Ten minutes in the Sin Bin can seem an awful long time when you're not sure what's going to happen to you, and it's not helped by the lurid stories put about by certain players who like to glorify their own visits and make others tremble about the possibilities they might face. 

The privacy afforded by the padded rooms fuels such anxieties, and a creative Match Official can take advantage of that by using imaginative restraint and dropping calculated hints about what he is inclined to do to the immobilised player. In the reverse wall-spread position, the player imagines that the only thing standing between him and utter humiliation is his shorts which seem very vulnerable to a malicious pull down. Especially after the Official spotted that he's wearing a traditional jockstrap underneath. It's enough to take his mind right off the game, which is continuing outside without him.

"Brace yourselves, lads. The entire team is coming out to spank you.
Thank your lucky stars it's not in front of our home crowd"

When the team's star players repeatedly miss easy scoring opportunities and the entire team knows they were up all night carousing, it causes friction. Away matches in interesting new places are always an tempting opportunity for players to go out on the town. Management teams these days run a tight ship but players off the leash can still get carried away and forget their responsibilities to the team.  When it happens time and time again, the Training Staff have to step in and remind them about the rules. 

If they want special treatment, they are liable to get it.

These singlets and dinky shorts might be seen on a rugby training ground, but are really more suggestive of the Gaelic Football code and that played by our Aussie friends down under. 

No matter, a hunk is a hunk however you dress him up and make him sweat.

"Wait! Wait! You can't just take these men away and sell them!
We've no chance of winning the League without them!".

But if the coach is unhappy, think how his two players must feel,

suddenly discovering they have been sold off by the cash-strapped club.

Their errant behaviour hasn't helped their cause.

Securely bound for despatch to an unknown buyer for unspecified use.

They've had no time to arrange their affairs - or even to tell their loved ones.

Even the ref looks distraught about the situation.

"Look at it this way, lads........."

This Coach is more sanguine and professional at the prospect of losing two key players,

He soothes the fears of the frightened men as they wait to be collected and taken away.

"You'll be well looked after, fed, dressed and kept in good shape" he assures them. 

"The job will involve public performance and pain at times, but you're used to that".

"Best of all, I told him you guys like each other, so he's promised to keep you together".  

If fact, the buyer has paid a hefty premium to acquire this matching pair, graded Class 1.

He's going to use them for breeding purposes, such genes shouldn't be wasted!

According to rumour, his extraction processes are most imaginative.

"What am I bid for these two exquisite specimens?"

Being sold behind your back is terrible, but the indignity of a public, internet auction is worse.

They were forced to pump up their muscles before the sale and dressed to attract maximum interest.

Then made to kneel submissively on the pitch in front of the cameras.

In the past, these men have modestly enjoyed the admiration their weight training has earned them.

Now are awestruck at the prices others are prepared to pay to get their hands on them.

They can't see the bidders, just the auctioneer and the steadily mounting offers on a TV screen.

The cold, teeming rain is unpleasant and depressingly apt, 

yet it seems to have heightened the buyer's interest in them.

And they haven't even had their shorts taken off - not yet.

In Transit

Sold and paid for, this player has been scrubbed and dressed in his Sunday best kit for despatch.

He's been moderately sedated and packaged securely for the long journey, so he'll be no trouble.

He's not travelling alone, an escort will attend to his needs and deal with the paperwork.

His buyer is rich enough and distant enough to have hired a private jet to bring him home.

It's an ironic epilogue to his high-flying life as a successful, professional sportsman.

That's over now, but he's shed his tears, calmed his fears and now sleeps the flight away.

Perhaps he's dreaming of a pampered new life, as the pet of an admiring owner.

An attractive female, easily won over by his male charm and sexual prowess.

Well, anything is possible, but I wouldn't count on any of that, chum.

Alone in a Crowd

Back in the UK, another burly Rugby player has been brought to his knees in the mud.

He bows his head in despair, a picture of submissiveness and incomprehension.

Which of these fates await for him?

~

I discovered these images recently on Tumblr. The site consists almost entirely of bondage images by a single artist, who calls himself Cybertied. They show men tied up with rope (classic stuff!) in a wide range of settings and scenarios but with a particular focus on sportsmen and, much to my delight, including many from the world of rugby and other football games. 

Visit Cybertied (on Tumblr, his main site) 

also on Twitter/'X' and DeviantArt

Other Cybertied at mitchmen

Obviously these images have been created with AI and there are some classic anatomy flaws if you look closely. However, what is truly remarkable about these images is that they have been created using a freely available, AI art creator which has been designed to block any elements deemed to be 'unsafe'. That's vague-ist New-Speak for what used to be labelled as dirty, deviant and abnormal, in fact almost everything worth looking at mitchmen blog! 

The list of forbidden subjects includes nudity, underwear and bondage. The creation process is driven by text input and the artist explains in 3 posts how he managed to word his way round the blocks. It's a fascinating insight into how these AI engines work and a guide that anyone can use themselves to experiment with. I will share some of my efforts in a future post.

Use the labels below to find similar posts at mitchmen

Waiting Room

 

When the letter from the National Labour Programme arrived informing him of his call-up, Paul knew better than to defy it. His wealthy father pulled all the strings he could but no one could avoid their time in The Slave Gang, as it was commonly known. The letter was brief and direct, he was to put his affairs in order and present himself totally naked to the draft officials when they came to collect him. It specified the exact time they would come.

That morning he'd put in a sweaty final workout in the gym, hoping the strength he'd built up over the years would serve him well if he was destined to be used for physical work. His father said sourly that that was probably how their scout had spotted him in the first place, everyone knew they cased the gyms looking for prime beef.  Rather than batching him up with dozens of ordinary men to be sold by the kilo, they'd probably put him in a specialist sale for private buyers so he'd fetch more money. At that level there was a risk of being sold for export and then he might end up in a jurisdiction with no legal safeguards for private slaves. They might never see him again.

His mother had cried as he started to get ready and he had to send her away. He undressed and dropped his clothes, one by one into the laundry basket. His mother would wash them ready for his return, but like many young men, he didn't have the qualifications to have a time limit placed on his period of service. It was 'unspecified duration' and no-one knew what that meant in practice. There were a lot of empty rooms in the country still waiting for a son to return after many years absence.

Paul thought he'd be OK provided he got an owner who treated his men kindly. He knew he'd have to perform tasks he might not like or be suited to, he'd heard all the chatter about what happened to some 'desirable' men, but he'd survive, somehow. He went to the window and looked out. He would be collected by them in the notorious, unmarked, white van. They reputedly always arrived on the dot, but it was already two minutes past his pick-up time and there was no sign of them in the street outside. 'Maybe they don't want me after all' he thought, maybe his father's efforts to save him had worked. But it was chilly in the room and he shivered.

The door opened behind him and his father came in. "They're here" he said, "They came the back way". He stood aside to let two men in plain suits into the room. Speaking only to confirm his identity they handcuffed his wrists behind his back and buckled a collar round his neck. Then they led him from the room, handing his father the official receipt. "Chin up, son" his father counselled him. 

His parents followed and watched as they loaded him into the waiting van. They shackled him to the wall alongside a hairy, 40 year old who he knew from the gym. They exchanged rueful smiles. Opposite them a younger man sat, sobbing. His face was tear streaked and his nose had been bleeding. "He panicked and resisted", his neighbour said. Paul nodded, that was probably why they had turned up late for him. His parents last goodbyes were suddenly cut off as the doors of the van slammed shut leaving the prisoners sitting in darkness. Then the vehicle rapidly bore them away. The collectors intended to make up for lost time.

Mitchell is on holiday

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 1

Away from the pressures of daily routines,

the body can rest and the brain roam freely

But it's not advisable to fall asleep in the sun.

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 2

Beach etiquette (and parenting) are not what they used to be.

But hey! There are worse things in life than mischievous kids.

(But where did they learn about sounding?)

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 3

This lazy day at the beach is starting to become a fetish experience!

First playful burial turns out to be inescapable restraint 

and now, exotic and painful nip' nips come out of the blue 

(or should I say, the sand?)

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 4

That little blighter isn't going to let go of his succulent nipple anytime soon

and our hero's struggles have only managed to liberate his nether regions.

producing an embarrassing display of assets 

That red flag is looking more and more like one of those signs

they stick into sandwiches at a buffet, 'come and eat me' they say.

This offering knocks a curled-up ham sandwich into a cocked hat.

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 5

It isn't long before some men in search of liquid refreshments pass by.

 They gather round to investigate and quickly find this pump is fully primed.

They need no further invitation.

Like I said, beach etiquette is not what it used to be.

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 6

Surrounded by sun-tanned hunks, it's hard for a man to resist
The red flag says you shouldn't go in but they feel their way, 

and once you're in, you're in.
Watch out for grit lads! 

Beach Boner Art by Kien-Bhu 8

The wave of fun-lovers recedes as quickly as it came in

leaving him drenched with a sudden summer shower of semen.

By the time he gets his breathe back, they've all gone, feeling peckish.

Leaving the beach boy still stuck in the sand, with sand stuck to him.

It might occur to him at this point that the starfish and octopus around him imply that he's within the high tide line and unless he extracts himself from the sand, he may find himself in a dangerous situation which may be exciting but only fetishistic if it's happening to someone else. 

~

Kien-Bhu is on Deviant Art (a nice, big gallery, but not explicit)

If you search on his name (plus gay porn or similar) you can also find him on 

Instagram, Fur Affinity - and Patreon of course.

I have to own up to fiddling with this artist's work. No not like that! Well yes, that as well.

In his original, the kids draw cat's whiskers and a penis on the sleeping sun-bathers face, also the men who take advantage of him write 'whore' in the sand. I have edited these out because I don't like degradation of that sort, it's a step too far beyond humiliation. My apologies to the artist for debasing his art, but I hope he appreciates the free plug.

For other posts like this at mitchmen fetish blog, click on the labels below.

Rugby Rogue

 

"Come on lad, lets hit the showers".

Another rugby player in trouble

The Match Official is making him to stay behind after the match.

An hour's detention face down in the mud

while receiving personal tuition in the rules of the game

and unspecified punishment for his misbehaviour.

By the time they get to the showers everyone else will have gone

Just the chance to show him another red thingy.

I'll give links to this artist, Cybertied, in a fuller review scheduled for mid-June

This is No 26 in the 'First Catch Your Rogue' series

click on the label below for more

James Seely bags John in the shower

In the previous installment of the James Seely saga, we saw him studiously ignoring John Manning's lustful looks in a dual posing session. This is what happened afterwards, sort of, in the shower. It provides two more examples of Seely's amazingly wide range of facial expressions.

Back in the bad old days, solo shower scenes were a standard part of the physique photo offering. They offered a thrilling glimpse into the private and intimate cleansing rituals of the studio's male pin-ups. Provided they were photographed with discretion, they also allowed publishers to gush about the cleanliness of their models and the healthy nature of sport of body-building which provided muscular models and a sheen of respectability for their subversive skin-pix. 

Sportsmen routinely showered together in real life of course (and sometimes workers did too if they had dirty jobs like miners). Nevertheless, squeezing two naked men into a tiny cubicle intended for one was not regarded as at all normal......

James Seely and John Manning - Sharing

Bob Mizer concocts an excuse for James Seely to get into the shower with John Manning after their exertions in front of the camera, it's in order to help him wash that tiny area between the shoulder blades that most of us cannot reach ourselves (just ask Siegfried!). Just in case you might suspect that there's something else going on here, James' arms (but nothing else) are smothered in nice, clean, soap suds. A teasing, bubbly trickle runs down over Manning's buttock.

John's serious face is probably meant to suggest he's giving directions to his helper, like someone having an itch scratched. But there's an element of distaste his look as though Seely's arrival is unexpected and unwelcome. I suppose this might be a deliberate, mocking attempt by Mizer to cast Manning as a straight man in a sudden onset of homosexual panic (see Holzman 'Merchant Navy').

Seely's cheerful grin looks nervous and mischievous as though he's planning a surprise. Darker sceptics amongst you might wonder (perhaps like John) whether his clenched right hand is actually holding any soap and even if it is, what is he thinking of doing with it next?   

James Seely and John Manning - Careless Hands

Seely's plan (whatever it was) has turned into a disaster it seems. (Apart from my frivolous, sex-obsessed inventions, he may have treated Manning as gay man when he isn't or as being receptive when isn't!). . Manning looks both shocked and very fearful. He melodramatically raises a defensive, clenched fist. His fist is about shock, anger and latent aggression, not fetish sex, sorry!

I'm not sure there's an English  word for Seely's expression here but it's absolutely priceless. It's the combination of realising he's blundered, profound embarrassment at it and rising panic that he doesn't know how to get out of it. It looks as if he's about to close the shower door so that their mutual embarrassment is no longer on public display, but blockading the two of them inside together doesn't seem like a very good solution in the circumstances (particularly if my interpretation is right!). 

In the midst of this furore, both men desperately try to hold their modesty flannels in place*

*The device of models draping a wet flannel over their private parts was intended to make these images decent in the eyes of the authorities. It would be surprising if it worked. because although you can't see any naughty bits (apart from a cunning glimpse of Seely's crotch hair that looks very sexy indeed), the sheer artifice and flimsiness of the arrangement draws attention to the fact that these two men are naked together in this confined space and could drop their guard at any minute and initiate an indecent, homosexual coupling. Indeed they might well have done so and publishing this picture is telling other deviants that they got away with it. Later, Champion Studio, who also used shower scenes, converted the dangling flannel into a posing pouch which was either brilliant satire or a particularly weird example of lateral thinking.

~  

 This No 34 in 'The Look' series at mitchmen blog,
click on the label at the foot of this post to view the others

or use the mitchmen search function (top right in sidebar)

~

The James Seely series so far:

The Abandoned Slave

Vintage Bondage - James Seely

James Seely meets Naked Men

next post: James Seely Nude

Mitchell's Cowboy Folio 9

Mitchell - Cowboy Punished in Chaps with a Whip

 On the back of this drawing I wrote, 'Initiation of a new Cowboy to the Ranch', but in retrospect it seems an austere test indeed for a new employee. The perpetrator seems to have admitted as much by his gagging of the unfortunate who is under his lash. 

The original sketch had a plain background but the description and the 'hands above the head' bondage implied a location with a structure overhead, like a barn. However, while tidying up the drawing for publication, I decided to embellish it with a remote, desert location instead, where the punishment can proceed without risk of interference. The recipient's wrists are tied to a tree branch or a tall cactus like the one in the background. This change creates a scenario akin to the malicious rancher, Grainger, persecuting Clay in the 'Cactus Kid'*. The tenor of this punishment seems more appropriate to that and it has the same imbalance of age, he's even got blond hair!

The reference number of this picture (93) is directly followed in sequence by the Bunkhouse Bondage image with which I started this series of posts and they have similar compositions. The male figures were both inspired by the Colt Studio images of the '80s. The highly-detailed chaps were inspired by (and probably copied from) the Marlborough Man ads (below). The treatment of the whipper's jeans reflects my enduring debt to Tom of Finland.

.

~

Read Part 10 of Mitchell's Cowboy Folio

Read this series from Part 1

The full Cowboy Folio can also be found at the mitchmen club at Adonis Male

*You can also find The Cactus Kid story there in full or Images only

See all at this blog by clicking on the 'cowboy' label below.

Targeted

At Last! He's Mine! All Mine!

Another sportsman, a rugby player, being tied up on the field of play (see Supersaver)

He was the only one who turned up for training, defying the miserable weather.

In the dull light he'd not noticed the figure in black approaching until it was too late.

This does not look like a run of the mill, criminal kidnap (if there is such a thing).

The attacker's shiny, black kit looks highly professional (and just a bit kinky)

It's as if the Special Forces have come to take out an important, 'person of interest',

intending to put him under extreme interrogation at a secret, military base.

It's hard to imagine why a  muscular and very handsome Rugby player would be hunted down by the Army like this. (Oh I don't know though).The mud on his kit suggests he didn't surrender easily, but somehow this skilled operator persuaded him to sit calmly on a bench so that his arms could be tightly clamped behind his back with dense, neat roping. 

His mouth is tightly gagged, it's more symbolic than practical, but nevertheless it muffles his protests and makes him feel uncomfortable and restrained. The same applies to the ropes tied around his thighs. They don't seem to have a restraining purpose, they don't prevent the man from using his legs, but they do restrain the muscles, severely restricting his ability to walk and run. This means the kidnapper can walk him to his vehicle rather than carrying him, but hobbling is a simpler way to do this.

The rain buckets down depressingly. The captive gazes upwards as if resigned to his fate - perhaps he's a deserter, a military offender of some sort whose past has finally caught up with him. Or perhaps he's trying to work out, what's going on, why me? You see, something's not quite right here. His attacker has not hidden his face with a balaclava as you would expect to keep his identity secret. The captive can see it's not someone known to him, pursuing a grudge. He looks more mature than would be expected of a professional kidnapper. Obviously, though, he's still good enough to take out a fit, rugby player. But then again the over-elaborate restraint has taken up a lot of time when you'd think he'd be keen to get away with his catch. Obviously he's done his homework and the filthy weather gives some insurance against being seen, but there's no accounting for the obsessive routines of joggers and dog walkers, so why take the risk? 

The alarming explanation that seeps into the Rugby player's mind at this point is that he's enjoying all this, overpowering him, tying him up, gagging him. It's too late now, his attacker moves to lift him off the bench, in what looks like a precursor to hoisting the guy over his shoulder, commando style, and sprinting off into the wood with him .

~

I'll give links to this artist (Cybertied) in a fuller review scheduled for mid-June

for more 'targets' and similar posts at mitchmen fetish blog, 

click on the labels below