All posts by Johnny Utah

Florida Trap – Part 11

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

Note: This is the final chapter. To start at the very beginning, click here.

The stocks sat in the middle of a sandy, sun-baked clearing, surrounded by big green old Army style tents and a few plywood buildings with tin roofs. Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I shuffled over to a low platform with two tall vertical posts and two cross members with holes cut in them for my head and arms. What had I got myself into!

A gorilla-sized guard of this hellhole pointed at me and said, “OK, shithead, this can go easy or I can go and get ten of my buddies and fuck you up for life, got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You stay still while I get these chains off you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I was unshackled and uncuffed.

“Put yer boots in the there.”

I dropped my booted feet into the half circles on the platform. A plank with another two half circles dropped in over my boots. My feet were trapped. In front of me was a crosspiece with cut-outs for my head and arms.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 11

Florida Trap – Part 10

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

The owners of the ranch I’d been working at had decided to sell the place. Bad news for me. I needed to find a new place to live and a new job. Sgt. Stiles had come over, and we walked back to the barn. It was a long quiet walk back to the barn. When we got there Sgt Stiles said, “I’m going to miss this place.”

There were just a few bales of hay and a few bits of tack around the barn. The barn had the lingering smell of horse and warm hay. Sgt. Stiles was in his sexy ass tight Wrangler jeans and a tight white T shirt. His jeans were tight enough for me to see the outline of a pair of handcuffs in his back left pocket. Sgt. Stiles ordered me to strip. That didn’t take long at all! I had on was my shorts and jock. He spun me around and cuffed me.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 10

Florida Trap – Part 09

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

The owners of the ranch sent me a letter. In 90 days, they planned to sell the ranch. They were asking me to do some upgrades and offered me almost double my pay for my work in looking after the horses and keeping the barns in shape. I accepted. What else did I have to do?

For the couple of weeks all I did was work. The owners came by to see me with some new plans for some upgrades. It meant a lot of digging. They were supposed to have a contactor show up with an excavator, but he never showed, so I used a shovel and wheelbarrow. I got up and took care of the horses. I sweated out in the sun all day, went home, ate, went to sleep, and got up the next morning to repeat it.

It was early Saturday morning. I heard the sound of a truck pulling up in the driveway. Sgt. Stiles arrived. He had sent me a text last night that he would be over. I looked out the window, and sure enough there he was in all his glory. Stetson hat, stern jaw, and thick neck, all I could think was “WOOF!”

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 09

Florida Trap – Part 08

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I got in my trailer. I dropped the boxes with the butt plugs and leg irons from Sgt. Stiles on the kitchen table. I got out of my boots, dropped my shorts, and yanked off my shirt. I picked up the leg irons. I could put them on, no problem. The butt plug was another thing. I decided to try, after all Sgt. Stiles had given it to me to try. I went into the bathroom. I had some KY gel. I got into my bedroom and hit the bed. All I had on was my socks and my collar. I locked the leg irons on. I admit they felt good. It brought back so many good memories. The restraint of the chain was reassuringly safe.

I had second thoughts about the butt plug but then decided to go ahead. I lubed up the plug. I used a finger to put some lube on the outside of my asshole. I laid back, tried to relax and slowly inserted the plug into my hole. It took a little pressure to get it in my hole, but it went in up to the base easily enough. I switched my concentration to the letter. I opened the letter carefully, so I didn’t rip the outside of the envelope with the address on it.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 08

Florida Trap – Part 07

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I was working hard at the ranch. My routine was set. Get up, coffee, do the three S’s, and then off to the stables. It was about half a mile to the stables from my mobile home. My boots crunched the gravel on the track to the stables. It was a good walk and got my mind cleared to concentrate on work.

As I’d get close to the stables I’d be sucked in by the warm smells of hay, horse, and the Florida woods. First thing to do was feed and water the horses, get them into whatever corral or field they needed to be in.  I’d toss dozens of haybales into the hayloft, dig fence post holes, lug wood around, dig ditches, and — as ever — shovel shit into the trailer and then shovel it out at the manure pile.

There were always little extras that were enjoyable. I liked brushing the horses. I’d talk to them to make sure they were calm. They always listened. Each horse had its own personality.

Before it got too late in the morning the owners would show up, or the owners of some of the horses who were stabled there. I would have a brief talk with them about their horse or something. Sometimes it was nothing in particular, like the weather.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 07

Florida Trap – Part 06

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I drove like a little old lady back toward Jacksonville. The speed people were going was really fucking crazy. I got to my hotel by a combination of memory and luck. It wasn’t too far from the highway, so I could see it before I had to turn off. I pulled into the parking lot. On the passenger seat was a printout of my reservation. I guess Sgt. Stiles had made it for me. I wondered what he was doing right now.

I parked and went to check in. One thing hit me right away. It was hard to walk. I was taking short steps waiting for the chain on my leg irons to stop me. I had to stop. I took a deep breath and tried to walk like a free man. It was hard to do.

I walked into the hotel. It was freezing cold. Air conditioning, ugh. There was a smell of carpet. There was a smell of people. Not man sweat, Lord knows I liked that. It was the smell of deodorant and cologne. So overpowering and sticky sweet, like someone stuck a honey dipped finger up your nose and twirled it around.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 06

Florida Trap – Part 05

By Johnny Utah

I shuffled into the Receiving Building.  I was the largest building I had been inside of in weeks, and it stank of industrial disinfectant. I thought I’d have to stop and do something like fingerprints and a mugshot, but then it hit me I already had a prison ID card. I had a record here. I had no idea why I was taken from the fields into prison. Everything was going OK since we got back to the work camp. Going to pick sweet potatoes wasn’t that bad, now I was facing something else. Something unknown.

In the processing area, Sergeant Stiles was waiting for me.

“Prisoner Utah, J. 35374, you are going to be processed for entry in the Special Housing Unit, disciplinary segregation section,” he announced.

I shuffled down a hallway and turned into a big white painted room with six tall cages, each one obviously meant to hold one man. I was put in a standing cage, painted white. It was about four by four feet. There was a kind of bench to sit on. The door clanged shut and was locked.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 05

Florida Trap – Part 04

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I don’t know how long I was sitting there. My arms were really stiff, cuffed behind my back. My butt was sore and cold from sitting in the dirt. Was Foreman Brodie just going to leave me here? I was miserable with my piss-soaked head and my hard on.

Eventually out of the dark I saw Johnson. He was in his boxers and boots. He wasn’t wearing leg irons; for some reason that made me scared. What happened?

He came up to me. “Looks like you’re in quite a state,” he said.

“Yes, Tent Boss,” I dejectedly replied.

“I got the keys. Hold still,” Johnson said as he unlocked the chain to my collar and then my handcuffs. “Hold on, let me get the leg irons too.” I stayed sitting down.

“What about the collar?” I asked.

“No,” said Johnson. “That stays on. I don’t have a key for that.”

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 04