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.
Continue reading Full Time Work During Covid-19
I lay there, fully naked, bent over a metal cage, my legs tied to the bottom back corners, my arms tied out and toward the top front corners of the cage, my neck locked in a collar clipped to the cage, my whole body still aching from the past hour. I saw my roommate and captor Bryan, out of the corner of my eye, in the kitchen preheating the oven.
“Is pizza good?” He asked me, as if I had any control of the situation whatsoever.
“Yeah man,” I said, “thanks.”
Bryan walked over to me and ran his hands through my hair. He ran his fingers down my spine, sending a tingle through my body. He slid his hand along my ass and lightly tickled my taint before passing me to walk down the hall, out of my very limited view.
A few minutes later I heard him walking back. He sat something on the table behind me, and walked over in front of me. In the time he’d been gone he’d stripped down to a black speedo. Whether he’d changed into that or been wearing it under his clothes all day was anyone’s’ guess. He knelt down in front of me, to be at face level, and pulled an open mouth spider gag from behind his back. It was one of our other roommate Jordan’s toys; they don’t do a great job keeping you quiet, but they do make anything you say complete gibberish, and more importantly keeps your mouth open so a dom can use your throat however they choose. I opened my mouth and obediently let Bryan strap it on me.
Continue reading Roommate Bondage Arrangement – Part 02
Either Bryan or I was getting tied up tonight, and if everything went as planned, it wouldn’t be me. I sent my other roommate, Jordan, a text, double checking we were on the same page for tonight, and when he replied with a thumbs up, I got out of my car and walked into my apartment.
My roommates and I have an arrangement. The three of us are gay, fairly kinky, and very open about what we are into. When we realized these facts early on into our lease we decided to make the best of it, and we set up a system so that there’s no shortage of bondage in our home. The system is simple: in the kitchen of our apartment there is a calendar where any of us can write our own name under whichever dates we choose. Any date that your name is written under is a day you have consented to be held prisoner by one or both other roommates. On weekdays this capture could begin any time after you walk in the door after work, and on weekends the time you can be put in bondage begins at 7am. You are freed at midnight, unless you write ‘o.n’ next to your name, which indicates you consent to overnight bondage and won’t be released until 5am the next morning.
Of course, just because your name is written on the calendar for a certain date doesn’t necessarily mean you will spend the night tied up at your roommates’ mercy, it just means you could spend the night tied up at your roommates’ mercy. Often any or all of us will sign up as willing for a particular date with the full intention of trying to fight our way out of bondage, resist each other, or get our other roommates locked up before they can lock us up. The hard and fast rule is that only people whose names appear under a day’s date can be tied up on that day, but beyond that it’s anyone’s game.
Continue reading Roommate Bondage Arrangement – Part 01
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.
“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.
- Experienced Kidnapper
- Superior Being
- Brutal Skinhead
- Your Worst Nightmare
- 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.
Continue reading The Kidnapper
By Inmate 35374
I 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.
Continue reading My Stay at Franklin County Historic Jail
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.
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
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.
Continue reading Mistakes in the Military
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.
Continue reading Chains