Monthly Archives: October 2020

Story

The WORC Program – Part 15

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By Joshua Ryan

So I spent a lot of days sweeping the drive and swabbing the terrace and crawling around getting all the dirt out of the travertine in the foyer, and lots more days hefting 65-percent-polyester-35-percent-cotton workie uniforms out of the washing machines. Not much to say about that. But I do want to talk about a special feature of this phase of my career, which was getting to leave the estate from time to time.

It was sort of like when I was in the coffle—they’d take us out for road work, but afterwards they’d bring us right back to the fences and the razor wire. This time, I was the most expendable part of the crew, so I was the one that was “permitted to accompany” Mr. Meyers and Marky on their shopping trips to town. Marky drove the SUV, and Mr. Meyers rode shotgun, and I was the package-carrier that rode in the back. Marky was a hot young workie and Mr. Meyers — who the workies called Mr. Nance, or just Nance, or Nancy — was always making comments that Marky was careful not to pick up on.

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Daily Thread

Prisoner Chad gets tickled

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At My Friends Feet , Chad Tyler is a hairy blond hunk with a furry chest and a Southern drawl who has gotten into a bit of trouble. Now behind bars, Chad wakes up strapped to his cot. Someone must have told Rikk how ticklish Chad is, because Rikk tickles Chad while he is strapped down until it makes him go insane. His feet, armpits and sides are crazy ticklish. It makes Chad worry about what’s going to happen the next night! And the night after that…

male tickle torture

See the VIDEO at My Friends Feet

Title of this shoot: Prisoner Chad Tickled

male bondage tickling

Story

Rubbered Prisoner and the Controlling Master – Part 01

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By Rubbered Prisoner

What is the Rubbered Prisoner?

The Rubbered Prisoner is a well-proportioned, muscular, 5-foot-10-inch, 25-year-old white male whose function in life is to earn enough money so he can be housed in an isolated small rural bricked facility where he can be tortured in rubber by the regimen of a distant individual except for 8 hours 30 minutes he is allowed to see through his eyes and type on a computer for a long-term substance living he has.

This is the job he has posting accounts receivables for a remote computerized client. At least 10 hours of the prisoner’s time (not necessarily continuous) must be where sleep is possible but not necessarily anything close to comfortable or continuous.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 14

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By Joshua Ryan

I thought maybe the workies in Grounds would resent me for going up the ladder like that, but all they said was stuff like “Wish I could go with you — not!” and “Enjoy all the fags up at the House, mofo!” The only resentment I saw was when I passed Benson coming out of the house servants’ barracks and heading for Grounds. We were both carrying our boxes of gear, but I was happy and he was mad. At me.

So now I guessed I’d be seeing Mike and Jerry every day — which was completely gross, right? I mean, it even made me sick to my stomach that I was looking forward to a thing like that. But how could I get back to real life if they didn’t help me? And why would they want to help me if they didn’t remember me? And how would they remember me if they never even saw me? And maybe they’d satisfied their sadism and wanted to get this shit over with, finally.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 13

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By Joshua Ryan

Here’s the way the place was organized. Jerry had a big “staff.” At the top was this Meyers guy, Steven Meyers — MISTER Meyers, the “personal assistant.” He wasn’t a workie. Maybe he should have been, but he wasn’t. I saw him from a distance, and I knew he was a faggot. The kind of faggot I’d been. Only I guess he needed a job. He slept in the House.

Everybody else was a workie. There were three types of workie.

First: House Staff. They were the head servant, Cicero, and the cook, Sacky. Cicero lived in the House, up in the attic. Sacky lived in the barracks, but he kept whatever hours were needed to satisfy the owner. He was the way we got all those great leftovers, and things that weren’t leftovers.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 12

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By Joshua Ryan

Boss Web put a leash on my collar and led me to the office. Mr. Williams was waiting outside, and so was a truck with a cage on it.

Boss said, “This is the workie they want at the House, right? Name is Butch.”

“Right. Butch,” Mr. Williams said. “Ethan will take him up.”

Boss walked away. I stowed my gear in the back of the truck and scrambled into the cage, still wearing the leash. Ethan locked me inside. Fifteen minutes after all this started, I was saying goodbye to the world of coffles.

I guess it was about a mile to the House on the dirt farm road. I was craning my neck, trying to see ahead, especially when the truck went around a curve. I wished I’d taken some of Jerry’s invitations to see the House, back when I was free. But I never wanted to spend any time with Jerry. Maybe if I’d been a little nicer to him … Before we got to the House we had to get through a concrete wall with a steel fence on top, and rolls of razor wire on top of that. OK, that’s the way it was, all around the Farms. Everything was secured. But then we were through the gate, and there it was, rising above a grove of trees — an elegant colonial house with red brick walls and white columns and white window frames and four huge chimneys. Yes! That’s it! That’s the House!

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