After the weekend when Jax and his drone had appeared unexpectedly at the camp, grunt’s life had passed back into routine. The young blond muscle jock had departed after grunt’s punishment whipping and there had been no other visitors.
Days passed quietly, waking at dawn as cool pine-scented air filtered down through the forest. Preparing the Captain’s gear and food for the day, opening the gate when he drove off to a chorus of barking dogs, turning to the list of chores left behind. Each item was assigned a time limit, and grunt’s day was dictated by the clock and by the shifting patches of shade he took advantage of to leaven the heat of the summer sun.
Each evening the Captain would return in a rumble of truck tires on the steep dirt road. The dog pack would stir and begin to bark and howl, jumping around eager for attention. The slave would already be waiting at the gate, and it would swing away at the precise moment the truck turned into sight. Then grunt would stand momentarily at attention, head bowed as the bearded master opened the driver door. Often he would briefly acknowledge the slave and indicate items such as fresh food to be fetched out.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 4
Jax snored softly in a hammock hanging in the warm night air, totally exhausted and a bit sore, his tan football player body marked with bruises and red marks. But he slept deeply and easily after being totally drained from his intense experience. Not so much for grunt.
The collared slave was the owned property of the Captain, and as such grunt’s every action was controlled by him. The slave could hear Jax above him sleeping, but his own night was sleepless and uncomfortable.
The cage sitting under the trees wasn’t long enough even for a short stout person like grunt to lay in fully outstretched, so the slave was huddled on his side, bunching up one blanket to rest his head on while the other blanket barely covered his naked body from the cool air dropping down through the forest as the night wore on.
The slave’s mind kept going back to the situation that landed it in the cage as punishment.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 3
Jackson couldn’t help himself. The blond college footballer could feel his cock pressing against the silver furry belly of the hunky bearish sheriff deputy bound in front of him. He knew each move he made was being felt at multiple points on the officer’s body, but his cock was raging to cum!
Jax pumped his crotch slowly against the older man’s belly and could hear the other man moan since each move either made was felt where their balls and nips were locked together. As Jax flexed his abs, the clamps on his nips also pulled on the officers huge thick pecs. If Jax stretched out to relieve pressure his own pecs, the chain between each man’s nuts tightened.
But the flexing and pain only drove Jax more crazy, along with the moans coming from behind the gag of the bound deputy.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 2
Jackson rolled over on the roof of the party boat. All the frats and girls around him were still snoozing after another night of summer partying on the lake even though the sun was well up and already hot. He stretched his muscles, tousled his mop of blond hair and threw aside his sleeping bag to reveal his muscled, football-player build clothed in a light cover of golden hair. He tucked his morning hard-on under the waistband of his board shorts. His hand brushed his own beefy pecs briefly as he looked around until he spotted the drone stuck in the brush just above the shoreline where the boat was moored.
Shasta Lake is a popular destination for vacationers and college students in rented houseboats. The boats congregate in the steep-sided flooded canyons that make up the vast reservoir in the forested foothills. Each arm of the lake is named for the source that pours water into the vast and complex reservoir: Pit River Arm, Sacramento Arm, Jones Valley Arm, Salt Creek Inlet.
This party boat was moored deep into the Salt Creek Inlet which was close enough to nearby campgrounds and stores to keep the college group easily supplied with beer and snacks the whole weekend.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 1
One hand darted across the keyboard, tapping out orders as fast as the fingers could find the buttons. The slave waited for the instructions to appear on the screen but already knew what was to happen. Some of the items were already jumbled on the floor around the base of the chair.
The typing stopped, the Master was breathing heavily, staring at the slave.
Justin got down on his knees and began rummaging through the items on the floor, and then opened a box next to the chair. Inside were many black leather restraints. Justin glanced up at the tablet to make sure he was pulling the right items. He strapped the wrist restraints on, the leather collar around his neck with the slave dog tags. He pulled out a leather ball stretcher strap and sat back in front of the Master’s chair spreading his legs. The Master’s fingers tapped at the keyboard:
“Punch your balls.”
Continue reading Master in the Chair
Summer nights dragged on more than winter nights it seemed. It was not that the night was so long, but the sounds mixed with the heat lingering in the camp kept the slave up long past the time he should have slept. Crickets whined all around the fenced compound where the Captain’s tiny cabin stood and the wicked laughter of coyotes echoed through the canyons near and far. The sound would first be of one lone coyote calling out in short howls then he would be answered by a yip or a bark.
Continue reading The Bear Trap: Summer Nights
Part 4: The Beast
Travis heard more than saw the slave called The Beast.
The blond jock had been on the ranch for months now. His cock weighed heavy inside the clear plastic chastity device, his shaved balls swollen with loads of cum waiting for release. His muscled body, built strong by years of demanding football coaches, was now at its peak. The guards and Masters of DZ Ranch had seen to that, honing him with precision workouts and a full schedule of hard labor in the oak studded confines of the remote ranch under the snowy gaze of the volcanic peaks of Lassen and Shasta in far Northern California.
Continue reading DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company – Part 4
Travis knew it was too late, but he was already inside the gate.
Sweat dripped down his pits into his tight grey tank top and stained the edge where it tucked into the tight Wranglers, cinched up with a brown belt and a big rodeo buckle won back in high school. The wet tank revealed his smooth skin spread tightly over his wrestler’s build, still white despite the days of drinking out on the lake that summer.
Continue reading DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company – Part 1 to 3