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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 03

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By FirefighterSIR

The slave suddenly realized that it must be about 2 a.m.

The slave could hear the Captain laughing and talking with some of the truckers gathered around the massive dirty Chevy truck and smell the beer breath and cigarette smoke. The truck stop bar must have just closed for the night.

The slave was bound in the truck bed, his arms stretched and shackled to the sides, his booted legs spread wide and chained as well, his ass exposed as he laid chest down on the rough saw horse set in the pickup. On either side huge semi’s rumbled in the hot night sheltering the depraved scene from the rest of the truck stop.

The slave spit to get the cold cum and piss out of his mouth and panted and moaned as he heard another burly trucker climb up into the lifted pickup and unzip his jeans. The trucker’s rough, heavy hands cupped the slave’s face and pushed his thick dirty cock toward the slave’s exhausted mouth. The slave began to tongue and suck the thick meat as he felt another man grab the slave’s abused ass and finger and grope his tortured hole.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 02

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By FirefighterSIR

For a day that had ended so brutally hot, the night was painfully chilly.

The slave shivered and stared upwards into the dim dawn sky through the branches of a spreading blue oak. That tree, which provided shelter for the primitive cage, shaded the slave by day and sheltered his naked collared body by night.

But that tree was not his friend and did not move to ease the slave’s hard use and suffering.

The slave guessed it was about 6 a.m. and the sun was still not over the rim of the hills when he heard the Captain stir in the small cabin about 20 yards away. He appeared at the door, totally naked except for unlaced boots shoved onto his feet, two dogs bursting out of the door behind him. His hairy muscled body was deeply tanned with thick black tattoo bands on his forearms and shoulders. His body hair was also black and trimmed tight against his  heavy pecs and down his abs and legs. His cock was fully erect and he stepped out into the chill predawn easily.

The slave was now fully awake and staring but scared to move.

Continue reading The Bear Trap – Part 02 →

Story

The Bear Trap – Part 01

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By FirefighterSIR

If you travel over the rough Santa Lucia Mountains, past towering Cone Peak, and away from the white water Big Sur coast, you come to set of broad oak studded valleys and chaparral covered ridges descending eastward toward the Salinas Valley. The Bear Trap is named for a box canyon among the ridges where oaks stud the grassy north facing slopes and brush and ghostly grey pines the sunburn south faces. Long ago, Mexican vaqueros would lure grizzly bears into the steep sided “trap” with live bait, such as a steer, to be roped and killed.

The ranch in that canyon is accessed by a 7-mile dirt road, and no one lives out there except the Captain. And the muscled work slave.

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Story

The Drone – Part 4

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By FirefighterSir

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.

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Story

The Drone – Part 3

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By FirefighterSir

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.

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Story

The Drone – Part 2

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By FirefighterSir

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.

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Story

The Drone – Part 1

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By FirefighterSir

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.

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Story

Master in the Chair

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By FirefighterSir

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.”

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