All posts by Featured Authors

Getting Wet

By bootboy

bootboyDon’t really know how I ended up where I did. Sometimes I think i’m crazy to stay here, and other times I think i’m just where I should be. I didn’t plan this: I just sort of slid into it. Not even sure how much further into slavery I can slide. Maybe tomorrow i’ll decide to call it quits, but I might just decide to stay put and ride it out. Kind of surprised how far i’ve gone. It just didn’t happen by accident though, I think it’s a bit like a storm. You can sense that one is approaching, seeing the clouds gathering and all, and you can either head inside and batten down the hatches or you can stay out in the thick of it. I guess I don’t know enough to come in out of the rain but I like splashing around and getting wet.

If anyone looked in through the window and saw me here; shaved from head to toe, my hands locked behind my back with wrist restraints, collared and hitched to the post of a loft bed, i’m sure that they would think I was crazy. But when I look out and see how most people live, to me, they are the ones who seem crazy: or worse.

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Full Time Work During Covid-19

By Harry Hess

I had read that good paying jobs were hard to find in certain areas of the country, but around where I lived there was lots of industrial, boating industry, and assembly factory work all rewinding their engines for ever greater numbers of workers in the factories.  Some were even waiving the G.E.D or high school diploma requirement.  While they all paid well, the only problem with most was the human-closeness of the workspace made it frighteningly easy to catch the Pandemic Covid-19.  As I read the local want ads one stood out.

Local workers needed for work on Anti-Covid-19 Protective work gear. Several levels of protection gear available and several pay levels offered. The MOST protective gear will require the most rigorous testing AND we will pay more for these harder jobs.

I decided to apply for the “high” protection suit, as the pay was really good and it seemed to be a safest bet in these troubled times.  The line was quite long when I got in the parking lot, and I almost decided to drive on to a different company.  I, however, had nothing better to do than waste a day standing in a growing employment line.  The line seemed to move in a start and stop fashion which I later learned was because they were showing each group the suits they were working on and answering questions.

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The Kidnapper

By Kidnappedboi

Author’s Note: This story is a work of fiction, but is inspired by the work of a fantastic Dominant Top based on the South Coast of England, JamesbondageSX. This story is rooted in fantasy, and both SIR and i believe in explicit and enthusiastic consent in all aspects of kink and sex.

To reflect my submission to SIR, all pronouns relating to me are in lower case, all referring to SIR in upper case.

CHAPTER ONE

“WANTED: KIDNAP VICTIMS”

The profile blurb almost said it all – unlike so many other profiles on Recon, this one didn’t bother with excessive text, or even too many pictures. Instead, it got straight to the point with a list.

“ME:

  • Experienced Kidnapper
  • Superior Being
  • Brutal Skinhead
  • Your Worst Nightmare

Victims:

  • inferior fag trash
  • worthless bootlickers
  • warm fleshlights
  • future gimps and prisoners

If you meet My expectations, expect to be abducted, abused, and disposed of. Tears are non-negotiable. Suffering guaranteed.

SIR”

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My Stay at Franklin County Historic Jail

By Inmate 35374

jail cell roleplayI was in jail.

My guess it was between 3 and 4 in the morning. There is a courthouse nearby with an old-fashioned clock that sounded the hour, but I didn’t I remember hearing the bell.

I had finished pissing as quietly as I could in our cell’s piss bucket. I adjusted my orange boxers and snapped up the bottom snaps of my orange jumpsuit. I gingerly shuffled to my bunk. All prisoners wore leg irons, even at night and they could make a racket. I didn’t want to wake my cellmate. We had been moved around the three available cells during our stay, so we had different cellmates, or were alone in solitary. Tonight, my cellmate was Ryan. Ryan is a well-built North Carolina guy a bit over six feet tall. He had half of a thin gray blanket over him from the waist up. It was the start of a hot July, but our cell was exposed to the full blast of the cellblock air conditioner. We both slept in our orange jumpsuits.

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Keith and slave – Part 01

Written by CathGear on recon

Creatively inspired, while wearing a catheter.

This story is a work of fiction. While most of the acts are possible, long-term effects from any one action could affect quality of life in the future of such a person.

Enjoy

***

I have always felt like I should serve someone. But until I met Keith, I was lost on the internet of life, just going from one play date, to another. Don’t get me wrong. I have/had boyfriends. But they were never ones that wanted to control my life. But, things are different with Keith. Have mostly a routine in the house. He does mix it up from time to time. But that is good in a relationship.

We started out, like most of my relationships, with an ad on the internet and a play date. I came over and he tied me up, fucked me, and made me suck on his cock till I took it down his load down my throat. We talked for a while, and I noticed that he wasn’t a very good housekeeper. I asked him if he wanted me to come over once a week and tidy things up a bit. No pay, just to see him, and maybe have some play, while I was there.

Continue reading Keith and slave – Part 01

Mistakes in the Military

By slavesoldier

It’s a little after noon on a hot sunny day and the sun is streaming in through a window above me in the cafeteria. I’m sitting on a bench at a table with a plate of food in front of me waiting for the order to eat. Others are still gathering their food and taking their seats, marching in a prescribed orderly fashion. The food isn’t all that appetizing but I’m starving, it’s been a hard day so far.

Sitting, in this unit, means sitting on the front 2 inches of the bench, feet together flat on the ground with knees at 90 degrees and together. Upper body is erect and rigid with back straight, chest out and stomached sucked in as much as possible. Head is level with eyes staring straight ahead, no expression is allowed. Hands are placed on knees. It’s a position of attention from which no deviation is allowed.

We live by a strict code of discipline and are never without orders or expectations. We are expected to be the absolute best. Best in training, best in physical condition, best in drill and best in appearance so that presumably, we’ll be the best in combat. The consequence for even the slightest mistake can be brutal and the grip that the commander has on this unit means that what happens in the unit stays in the unit. The unit performs, he gets rewarded and we do as ordered. We all genuinely fear this man and wouldn’t dare cross him, even when his methods of enforcing the code of discipline exceed what is authorized by regulation.

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Chains

By lithium500mg

Part One

Whenever I see a naked steel chain I get hard. I want to feel the cold metal around my wrists, around my ankles, tightly harnessing my chest, cradling my groin, and digging into my ass. I want to feel the torture of a chain-mail chastity squeezing my balls and delivering a shallow catheterization when my dick is undisciplined.

Leather? For me leather is a work uniform. My love of the feel and smell of leather is satiated by professional motorcycle racing where thick cowhide is necessary for safety. On racing weekends I’m encased in heavy, sweaty leathers while riding on pavements hot enough to make French toast. I love the animal skin’s shrink-when-wet behavior that requires peeling out of it after a race day is over. In fact, someone on my team has to help peel it off my chest (I can do the rest). Racing fans with pit passes sometimes seem to enjoy the show of a ripped torso that has struggled to keep the bike upright through lefties and righties, corkscrews, and the heavy traffic aiming for the hole shot.

When my team finished the race at Willow Springs, I headed up towards the Air Force base on my street bike to new Master’s rented home. His shift as an MP at the base stockade ended in about two hours, so I had the place to myself. I stripped off my jeans and T-shirt, went to the crate where the linked steel was stored, and began adding metal to my now naked body.

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Read the Instructions

By Callum Buchanan (of blessed memory)

Note from Metal: I am re-posting this story after a reader contacted me about it. See below for more information about this author and where this story came from.

The boxer’s mouthpiece felt as if it had swollen to fill his whole mouth. It was three o’clock in the morning and he could neither spit it out nor even open his mouth. That thought was the least of his problems and once again he cursed himself for a fool, he should have read the instructions first!

He was fit, and did go into the gym to spar with a trainer on a regular basis. but he also had some kinks and one of them was to dress in the training kit and pretend that he could not take it off. That he was trapped and helpless in it. Unable even to open his front door and get help.

The dream though had now become reality and he was in a real fix. At the gym Bob his trainer had told him about some new extra safe sparing kit. The padding was better so was the fit. there were no laces or straps to cause problems in the ring and you did not even need to wrap or bandage your hands because the gloves were so well made. He had agreed that the stuff looked good and placed a telephone order for the kit from the makers, a local sports goods company he had never heard from before and bought 20oz gloves, a supersafe head guard and cup.

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