All they needed was for someone to hold the sign for the flower stall at the Sunday market.
But it’s never that simple, not with Master Skylar involved.
Mitch sniffed in mild discomfort as the cool morning air and flower pollen tickled his nose. He’d grab a tissue, and maybe some Claritin, but his hands were tied. Literally.
Locked in a bulky wooden yoke, Mitch couldn’t move his hands within two feet of his head. As if that wasn’t enough, his hands had also been locked into thickly padded leather mitts before being placed in the yoke. The mitts couldn’t even be accessed unless the yoke was removed, and of course the only person with the key to unlock the yoke was… Master Skylar.
“It’s for publicity,” Skylar had said. “Just stand on the corner for a few hours, get people’s attention, and they’ll come buy flowers.”
Continue reading A Day on the Market
Come to the farm, they said.
The fresh air will do you some good, they said.
“And why the hell did I listen!?” Mitch huffed his annoyance through the wad of socks taped in his mouth. His breath visibly steamed in the crisp morning air. He glared watching each breath form and dissipate.
Mitch was pigtied with his wrists tied to his ankles in front of him. It forced him to curl up on himself and had quickly grown uncomfortable. The cold, hard ground he was sitting on didn’t help matters either. For now, Mitch rolled onto his back and stared up at the clouds. He figured by the light in the sky that he’d been bound for a few hours…
He’d been wearing boots, Carhartt overalls, gloves, a heavy coat, and a few layers of shirts expecting to be doing some farm work. Now all those rugged clothes hindered any chance he might have had to escape. The thick leather work gloves, for example, now as restrictive as any fistmitts he’d ever worn. His thermal undershirt squeezed his chest, pressing his piercings against his nips. Wired as they were, the irritation only served to make Mitch hornier and more frustrated than he already was.
Continue reading A Day on the Farm
NOTE: This is the first of several intended side-stories for characters introduced by Cutieboy90 in Buying Love – Part 5. To start at the very beginning of this story, click here.
“Wake up, stud. We’re here!” Alden’s voice made Brett wake with a start. He wiped the drool from his cheek and looked ahead out the window. There it was — their destination!
It was late afternoon. The hot New Mexico sun beat down upon the bitter wind-blown abyss of dust and stone. Black, scrubby pinons stood in stark contrast to the red sandstone ground and vivid blue sky. Brett had admired the enchanting beauty as it rolled by and lulled him to sleep after hours of travel. Now as the Vaquero Ranch finally came into view, Brett found himself hypnotized once again by the picturesque high desert setting.
The ranch was set on a gently sloping mesa. Its dazzling white bricks shone out from the endless red sand like a beacon, and its old Spanish style was instantly impressive.
Continue reading Buying Love – Part 6a
They said it would be a relaxing vacation. They said it would be several care-free days of lounging on the beach and soaking up some tropical sun. They never said Mitch would be doing any of that.
Mitch growled into the thick towel knotted in his mouth. His tongue was dry and his lips felt chapped from being stretched and cleaved by the towel for so long. At least the towel had been clean. He sighed in exasperation.
“Be grateful, Mitch,” he told himself as he chewed on the gag. This was the only movement he was allowed, though. The rest of body had been rendered immobile for several hours, having been buried up to his neck in sand. His friends had prepared by digging the hole in advance; all they’d had to do was manhandle Mitch into it in the dim light of dawn and fill it back in. They’d been sure to pack the sand down tightly around him.
Continue reading A Day on the Beach
Fall was in the air this morning as Josh and Alex left their truck at the trailhead, gravel crunching under their boots. Early morning dewdrops still clung to the foliage and spider webs, and fog still obscured the treetops.
Alex surveyed the brush.
“Heel, boy.” Josh whistled. Alex quickly obeyed. Josh smiled. “Sorry boy, you won’t find anything here. There’ll be plenty further up, I promise.”
“Yes Sir,” Alex replied, readjusting the straps for his backpack.
It was quiet as they made their way along the trail. Alex gradually acclimated to the initially crisp smell of ferns and wet gravel. The trees grew thicker, casting shadow across the path. The flat gravel path began to narrow and slope, soon giving way to well-worn earth and natural forest floor.
Continue reading Hunting Accident
Sanchez pulled up in front of the Old McGriffith Farm, a dust cloud stirring up from the wheels of his F-250 as it bumped to a halt. Sanchez adjusted his tie and put on his big white hat and stepped out of the cab.
A big Chevy pulled up next to Sanchez. It was supposed to be blue, but the color had long been obscured by layers of dust. A lean muscular cowboy jumped down from the cab.
“Hey Mike,” Sanchez nodded. He and Mike had been buddies for years and worked several jobs together.
“So this is the place, huh?” Mike drawled. “Good chunk of land, no wonder they need help. Generous deal too.”
Sanchez nodded, pulling the ad out of his pocket. “And it’s a two-year contract. Gotta appreciate that job security.”
It was true enough. $60,000/ year salary plus earned bonuses. Healthcare, retirement plan, room and board supplied, and meals too. It was too good a deal to pass up, even if the farm was out in the middle of nowhere…
Continue reading Hired Help
To start at Part 1 click here
Ding! “The Captain has turned off the fasten seatbelt sign. Please feel free to move about the cabin.”
All around I could hear the clicking sound of the other passengers releasing their seatbelts and some reaching up to collect items from the overhead bins or simply stretching.
“Heheh…” Scott chuckled darkly as he patted my thigh. “Not that you need to stretch after only 15 minutes, but you won’t get to. No chance, no choice.”
My poor dick only throbbed harder, tightly confined in my jockstrap and tight jeans as Scott’s deep whispers flowed into my brain, his words as smooth and sinful as melted dark chocolate.
He was right, of course. I had no freedom, strapped and muzzled as I was. I looked down at the straps the Air Marshall had restrained me with. Thick, wide, lightly padded nylon webbing circled my torso pinning my arms around me like a straightjacket. Another strap ran down the front to connect the body straps to the ankle straps, which kept my legs bent and in a seated position even if there hadn’t been a seat.
Continue reading Enjoying the Flight – Part 2
“Uhh, are you sure about this?” I asked George for the hundredth time.
George’s scruffy blonde face looked up from the project on his bench. “‘Course I’m sure!” He blew across the surface of the wood, sending a cloud of powdery shavings into the air. “Now I think this’ll do.” He picked up the two blocks from the bench, and walked over to where I stood. I put the sketches down and held my arms out. George placed the blocks over my forearms and inspected the fit.
“Perfect!” He exclaimed. “How does it feel?”
I tried twisting my wrists side-to-side to gauge the clearance. “Yeah, it’s good…” There really wasn’t anything to complain about, no pinching, no tightness.
“Good.” George smiled as he tousled the wood dust out of his hair, and wiped at his brow with a rag. “Well, let’s get you in shall we? Clothes off!”
I began to take my clothes off, George lending an all-too eager hand. I blushed as the back of his hand brushed my skin. I liked George, yes. In fact, I’d always liked him. We’d been friends since we met in high school woodshop. We still made plenty of projects together in his garage-turned-workshop, but nothing quite like this…
Continue reading Screwed