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Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 03

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 3: Exceeding the Ideal

The flight was beautiful — the turquoise sea studded with emerald islands, then the purple thrust of St. Bevons, relic of an extinct volcano, with a city relaxing on its flank.

The Wellington International Airport is small but friendly.  In an American airport, you have to fend for yourself.  At Wellington, a gang of attendants in brown uniforms lines up in the luggage department, waiting to take your bags and carry them to Ground Transportation.  The first one in line grabbed my belongings–one bag in the left hand, one in the right, the third tucked under his arm–and before I knew it he was stowing it all in the trunk of a cab.

The guy was young and fresh-faced and very cute, with a strand of yellow hair poking out from under his little brown cap.  Too bad our encounter was so rushed!  I reached in my pocket for an outsized tip when the cab driver, an elderly black man with a rum-thick accent, intervened.  “No wurries, sirr.  You doan tip thee slappie boys.”

Slappie boys!  So this little corn-fed Midwesterner with the brown shorts and the brown short-sleeved shirt and the glint of a silver necklace underneath his collar—he was a slappie!  Obviously, St. Bevons had several ranks of hierarchy, and they weren’t arranged in order of race.  But fuck!  How hot can this be!

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Story

Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 02

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 2: One’s Company

Roger let me know that he’d made not only the room arrangements but also an appointment for us with Major Timmons of the St. Bevons State Labour Program.  “I confess that I have had the tour already, but I will enjoy meeting him again, and I am sure that you will enjoy it too.  We will meet him at his office at 9:00 a.m. on the second day after your arrival.  As for our own meeting, may I suggest 7 p.m., local time, on the day you arrive?  I will make our dinner reservations for that hour in the restaurant of the King George Hotel.  I think you will find the Oak Room more than passable.  We can meet in the lobby.”

“Thank you—but how will we recognize each other?  Should I carry a copy of ‘BDSM for Fun and Profit’?”

“Oh yes, that is a question.  For purposes of recognition, my dear sir, I humbly request a photo of yourself.  You will note that I am not yet requesting an exchange of names.  After all, what, to the world, is a photograph without a name?”

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Story

Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 01

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Island Paradise

In Two Parts

By Joshua Ryan

 

This is a story about adults, and for adults only.  It is entirely a work of fiction.

PART 1

Chapter 1: Greetings from Your Vacation Planner

I’d never heard of the place before Roger mentioned it.  Roger was my online friend.  We’d been chatting about BDSM stuff; that’s how I met him, on a BDSM site.  That night. we were getting into prisons and chain gangs.

“But if you are seriously interested in the study of penal servitude,” he said, “I would recommend that you examine St. Bevons.  It has, allow me to suggest, appropriate ideas on the subject of penal labor.”

That’s the way Roger wrote.   I hadn’t been chatting with him very long, but I’d learned a few things about him.  He came from an Indian family that had settled in the West Indies, and he’d been sent to school in England.  It wasn’t natural for him to use contractions or not to spell an idea all the way out.  “If you are seriously interested in the study of penal servitude . . . . ”  I could imagine the way he pronounced the phrase: in-ter-EST-ed, PEE-nall, SERR-vi-tude.  He never discussed his profession except to say that it involved “international investments, that sort of thing.”  When I replied, “That’s what I did too, before I’d made enough money to quit,” he didn’t rise to the bait.  He wouldn’t say much more about himself—although his reference to “staying in Switzerland for a while—business again” and his comment that “the hot men in Paris always seem to cluster around the Ritz, especially if they have no money” let me know what social class I was dealing with.

“What’s St. Bevons?” I asked.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 26

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By Joshua Ryan

The truck didn’t take me to the field hand barracks, where I thought I was going. It turned into the driveway to Mr. Hamilton’s house instead. I thought, this is probly what he does whenever he buys a new workie — he wants to see the goods. But —  OK, this is just too hard to talk about, except just a little bit. We pulled up to the side door of the house and I was handed over to this old workie named Cicero, who’s the bigshot up there, and he gave me this funny look and said, “Yes, we’ve been expecting you. Mr. Hamilton is busy right now; I’ll take you to your room.” So right away, it was a room not a barracks.

So he took me down to the basement — which is really nice, for a basement — and he unlocked the door to a little room and told me to wait in there, and he closed the door and locked it, and yeah, it wasn’t a barracks at all, it was just like a bedroom, with a bed and a dresser and a little mirror and so on, so what the hell? It was almost like I was back at home! I did remember how Butch was living someplace next to the House, so maybe this was good, cuz maybe he was still there! Which would be SO great! But I never thought they’d keep him there. I always thought he’d get sent back to the coffle. That’s just what I thought, from looking at him.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 25

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By Joshua Ryan

The month or so before I was supposed to graduate, the tension was building. I was studying for final exams and also getting letters from colleges saying I was either in or out. I dealt with that stuff kind of in the background. Mainly I went around lookin at all the things in my life like, pretty soon, I’m never gonna see you again. My friends, my school, the house where I grew up — they were like, in the past already. My dad and my brother had been like that for quite a while, and they seemed to feel the same about me. I mean, they had this look like, “Are you still around?” I guess we were never a real close family.

I’d been dreading all these things that happen at the end of high school — like, proms and yearbooks and graduation ceremonies and so forth — but they were in the past too. I just did them. Although I didn’t go to the prom — none of the guys asked me! LOL! But I did put on the robes and march in the graduation ceremony. Of course I was thinking, these people think that WORKIES look like clowns!

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The WORC Program – Part 24

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By Joshua Ryan

After that, I was so nervous, I could hardly sit still. Geometry class! What a nightmare. With My Fate Hanging in the Balance like that, I had to worry about theorems! And it took DAYS for something to happen. Actually, I was sittin in Geometry when I got the text from Mr. Sinclair: “Come out to the Center. I’ve got an answer for you.”

I should have walked outta class right then, but I was such a good boy that I waited till it was over, LOL! Then I got on my bike and rode out there. As soon as I got into his office, Mr. Sinclair said, “Well, Noah, you’re in luck. Mr. Hamilton has expressed an interest in acquiring you for the Farms.”

“Sweet!” I said. “When do I go?”

“Hold on,” he said. “Mr. Hamilton made a good offer for a preliminary contract. Preliminary. But he told us that under no circumstances will he make the purchase until after the subject graduates from high school.”

“You mean I’ve gotta hang around till next June?”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 23

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By Joshua Ryan

So, the way it happened, it was Saturday, and I was just comin outta the library, when I saw him! They’d brought him into town to do some grunt work for that manager of Mr. Hamilton’s, the gay one, and the workie that drove Mr. Hamilton’s cars. But those guys were off doin something and Butch came back to the car and there he was, leaning against the side, right next to the HAMILTON FARMS placard, waiting for them to show up. All alone! And SO hot! And just waiting for me!

So naturally, I made a total fool out of myself, just standing there with my mouth open, staring at him! Because he was SO hot! He looked exactly the way I wanted to look. He was wearing this great workie suit — which I knew you’re not supposed to like, but maybe that’s why I liked it, cuz people drive past a workie and they say, oh, ugh, look at that horrible suit, I’m glad I’m not a clown like that and I have to wear a clown suit. But that just means they can’t see how big and tough it makes you look, especially if you’ve got muscles that are making the suit be how it’s meant to be! Which is what Butch had.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 22

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By Joshua Ryan

So OK, this is Lucky, and I get to talk!

Butch says that’s a dog’s name, and maybe he’s right! But I’m glad Mr. Hamilton chose it, because it’s the right name for me. If anybody’s lucky, I am. Just look at my boyfriend Butch! You think I’m not lucky?

Anyway, I’ve been here at Hamilton Farms for two years now, so this is a big fast forward, LOL! But it’s a good time to check into the story, for reasons I’m gonna explain. So yeah. But I wanta go back to the start. The start for me, anyhow.

It all started — me being lucky, I mean! — when I was in my senior year in high school. When you turn 18, I guess you start lookin around, tryin to figure out what you wanta do. I know what my dad wanted me to do. (I guess I should tell you, my mother’s dead. I can’t remember her much, actually. Too bad — maybe she was nice!) I was the one that was going to college. My brother Luke, he was the one that was gonna take over the business. I remember my dad sitting me down in private and telling me, “You know, Luke understands how to do this. He’s already doing it. So … I’m giving it to him. No hard feelings?”

“Course not, Dad. I didn’t want it anyway.”

I guess he didn’t like to hear that. But it was true.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 22 →