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Warden – Part 02

By Jordan Thomas

Chapter 2 – Exploration

Over the course of several days, 42-year-old Philip was curious about his findings, but tonight during his night shift again, he got bored. Since there wasn’t much to do other than playing with some stuff on his desk, he managed to take another peek into the room.

Beep. The green light flashed again.

This time the door opened easily, not like before. To his surprise the room was lit — the lights were already on when he opened the door. Strange. He paced around the room again until he reached the rows of cabinets he had previously opened like a treasure chest. He took a quick look through the glass on each cabinet until he stopped in front of the last one that he hadn’t opened before because he got interrupted by his colleague. He put his hands on the handle and slowly opened the cabinet. The door swung open easily, and inside was a full CO uniform but made in leather. In conclusion there were 5 cabinets; those 5 held things he had never seen before aside from porn websites. But the last one — it was unnerving.

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Warden – Part 01

By Jordan Thomas

Chapter 1 – Finding

The name is Philip Carrington, a regular corrections officer (CO) from a small town in Colorado. He used to be a Marine, so he had that “big tough guy” build: broad shoulders, big chest, thick thighs, and a neat crew cut. But for some reason, after a few years on the floor lingering around the cell blocks, one day he was assigned a desk job to handle administration of the prison inventory. You know, the one who handles stockkeeping for the equipment used in the prison, like shackles, cuffs, etc. For some it may be a nice thing to not walk around the facility and just hang around in a room, but for Philip it was torture as he’s an active person and now he’s stuck at his desk providing things that other COs ask for.

After a few days stuck in his mundane fort of solitude, he decided to do routine checks on the inventory. At the back of the room there was a door behind some old shelves. He was intrigued by it and tried to clear up some space by dragging the empty shelf away. To his surprise the door had some stickers that he could not quite read because of the dust sticking to the old peeled sticker. He wiped them off a little, ran his hands over the residue, and got a glimpse of the wording that said: “HIGH RISK SUPPLIES: AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY.”

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A Case of Mistaken Identity

By Arrest22

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was about noon on a Friday. I work overnights, so I was just beginning my weekend. I was flying down the highway on 680. I was wearing dark blue jeans, my Friday staple, a midnight blue polo, and birkenstocks. I changed into my sandals after hitting the gym at work.

Sometimes when the music hits, you lose track of time. In my case, I also lost track of my speedometer.

I saw the blue lights in my rearview before I heard them.

“FUCK!” I exclaimed loudly to no one.

I found a safe place to pull over. Doing so was not the easiest task as it was lunch hour on a Friday. I could hear the cop car telling me to pull over from their loud speaker. It was annoying because that’s exactly what I was trying to do.

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Matt’s Midnight Submission Slam: The Boss’s Leather Grip

By Matt Nemo

Aight, picture this: I’m Matt, your everyday NYC grindin’ sub dude, 28, built like a wiry punk with tats snakin’ up my arms and a collar kink that hits harder than a subway rush. Workin’ some dead-end gig in the Village, but nights? That’s when the real party’s poppin’. One Friday, I’m scrollin’ Grindr, horny as hell, when this daddy-type—call him Jax—DMs me: “You look like you need a real man to own that ass. My place. Now. Wear nothin’ but your jock.”

Heart racin’, cock twitchin’, I bolt over to his loft in Chelsea. Door swings open, and bam—Jax is this 6’4″ leather god, beard like a fuckin’ forest, harness huggin’ his ripped chest, eyes drillin’ into me like lasers. “On your knees, boy,” he growls, voice low and gravelly, makin’ my hole clench just hearin’ it. I drop, pavement burnin’ my skin from the walk, but who cares? This is sub heaven.

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A Few Hours of Suffering

By keepmetiedup

They say “write what you know,” so here’s a short story that actually happened to me (with just a teeny bit of embellishment). This story contains descriptions of breath control, some CNC, and pain.

At breakfast this morning, I noticed my jaw still ached when I started to eat my toast.  Later, in the shower, the hot water made my nips hurt again.  When I looked in the mirror, I saw the black and blue marks across my back and ass.  All souvenirs of a good time suffering for a demanding top three days ago.

I visit my family every few months and I often try to schedule a play session before or after my time with my family.  Sometimes, it doesn’t work out.  On this trip, however, I succeeded in setting up a date with a trusted top I had visited many times before who is into pain, cbt, bondage, and – yes – breath controI.  I went over to his place.  We chatted about limits and preferences, and I told him I was interested in playing a bit more with breath control.  I reminded him that I hadn’t visited him for about two years, and he said that he would have to punish me for not coming to see him again sooner.  I smilingly agreed that he would indeed need to punish me.

He told me to strip down to my birthday suit, to go into the next room, and to wait for him with my hands behind my back and my head bowed.  Naturally I complied.  The second room was quite dark and without my glasses on, it was hard to see anything.  I waited.  Eventually, I heard him walk up behind me and he slipped a blindfold on.  Now I couldn’t see anything at all.  I heard him walk around in front of me.  He told me to present my arms to him.  He attached what felt like leather cuffs to each wrist and he fastened these together in front of me with what I’m assuming was a short length of rope.  He didn’t ignore my nips.  He clamped each one with something snug and secure.  I never did see what they were, but they did their job and hurt.  He guided me around the room to a different position.

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Interactive Jail Tour

By Hot Boy

Australia

Perth Old Jail Museum

After a fairly boring day looking round Perth, Ross stumbled upon the Old Jail. He quite fancied a look around — it would allow him to indulge in some nice fantasies. However, it looked like it was closed tomorrow — the sign saying, “Closed Wednesday” was a clue — and the security guard seemed to be locking up.

“We’re just closing, mate,” he said.

“No chance of a quick look around?” asked Ross.

“No, mate.” The guard looked Ross up and down, he was a handsome lad in his early twenties, “…although…” he seemed to think for a while, “…we do have a special interactive tour. Although, since it’s quite a bit longer, it is a bit more expensive. I think you’ll really get a lot out of it though.” He grinned, “It sure will be memorable.”

“Eh, yeah, okay, that sounds pretty cool.”

“Come on in then.”

Ross stepped into the foyer, and the guard picked a key from his large bunch and locked the door.

“The idea of the interactive tour,” explained the guard, “is that you get to really experience what it’s like to be a prisoner.”

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Life as an Owned and Controlled Slave

By slave Mark

This is a genuine story of my life as an owned slave. I will add further stories if anyone is interested.

I met my ex owner on a BDSM web site after chatting and exchanging messages I travelled to be his owned and controlled slave. Master had told me he wanted full control of my life I would have no privacy no rights no secrets. I would be controlled in every aspect of my life and suffer from any errors on my part.

So I packed everything up and made the 6 hour journey by coach wearing what he had instructed me to wear and following his instructions for travel, I was to sit with my hands on my knees, not allowed to read, eat or drink on the journey during comfort breaks I was to get off coach and stand to the side with hands behind back legs apart head bowed.

It was a long journey which gave me time to think of my life ahead.

Upon arrival I collected my bags and made my way to Master I knelt Infront of him and handed him my bag of personal items including passport and wallet.

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