By Alex Ironrod
This story contains adult-oriented material, involving sexually explicit, non-consensual behavior between men.
Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. All rights reserved.
This story is posted here with permission.
Jack Thomson was pissed off, pissed at himself. He’d done in the transmission of his car on a rock sticking out of the dirt on the back road. It was his own fault for showing off to Mary-Louise. He’d invited her to the parade at Texas A & M, and he’d dressed up in his cavalry uniform – khaki breeches with a wide flare, spit-polished brown boots and his uncle’s Prince of Wales spurs, with new straps – his right as a senior. He knew his 6’ frame looked good in the khaki shirt, tie and the Sam Browne belt; he’d strutted round the parade ground with his boot cleats ringing loudly and his campaign hat at just the right angle.
Mary-Louise had been properly impressed, according to his best friend, Tim Dixon, and so he’d stayed in uniform to drive her back home in the hills outside College Station. They’d made out in the back of his Chevy, but he had to be back for duty by 7pm, so he’d cut it short, and, following her directions, tried the short cut through the dry and dusty hills back to college. Now it was late afternoon; he was stuck, and he hadn’t bothered to tell Tim or the others where he was going. He kicked at the tire with his boot in exasperation.
“You need some help?” a voice helloed from behind him. Jack swung round; a man sat a tall horse on the nearby hill. “Got a problem with your car?” “Yes, sir, wrecked the transmission.” “Hold on,” and the man urged the stallion down the slope and trotted towards him. Jack watched him approach and dismount with a jingle of spurs.
Continue reading An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 1
Meant as fantasy.
It could feel the dampness of its tears against the leather blindfold. It was trying to catch its breath from the long whipping and flogging. It only had itself to blame for the duration. It could have stopped it sooner, but it was trying to hold out … hold out that this was just a dream.
It was supposed to be a quick Friday night session. But while locked in a cage, his now Master told it that by the end of the weekend, it would agree to be a slave. The slave thought that wouldn’t be real or possible, but as the past hour had taught it, his Master was right.
It was weak and tired. It was now Sunday afternoon, but it hadn’t slept or eaten anything. It needed to yield. It jumped as it felt the Master lightly touch the back of its neck. The Master chuckled.
“Time to officially make you mine, slave.” It flinched at those biting words. “Ready for your tattoos and piercings?”
Continue reading No Limits
It’s an important week for the company that hires me. On Friday a contract will be signed with a new client who will bring in a lot of money but also strengthen the position as market leader.
It was I who approached this future client and convinced him to sign with my employer. I will be the company’s contact with this new client. The appointment for the signing is set for Friday at 5 p.m. at the company’s offices. The work is intense all week, proofreading the contracts, talking with the lawyers … I don’t really have time to think about Paul, but my boss regularly calls me into his office to check the situation. On Wednesday my boss informs me that he wants me to stay after office hours to make a final point with him.
At 7:00 p.m. all my colleagues left the office and I am still at my workstation. My boss asks me to join him. We spend a good hour rereading the contract and my boss congratulates me on the job so far. I collect the documents and head out of the office.
Continue reading A New Colleague — Part 06
We finally settled into our new house. The move had been rather uneventful and the unpacking of the house did not take as long as setting up the new dungeon in the basement. One of the things that attracted us to the house was that the foundation was made of stones and mortor. So once the dungeon was setup it looked almost medieval which just made it more intense when we were playing.
Sir had settled into his new role as my Sir and head of the family as well as becoming an expert fucker. He seemed bent on making up for lost time and my ass was getting worn out from all the fucking we had been doing.
We had finally had a long talk about trust and limits and he had agreed to my hard limits of no blood, scat, or permanent markings. So we explored what turned him on and we found that like me he was a strong sadist and really enjoyed inflicting pain. Also having me in heavy bondage for long term scenes really got him rock hard. Many a night was spent with me strapped tightly into a heavy leather straight jacket or sleeping next to him in a sleep sack.
Continue reading The Speed Trap – Part 10
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
PART FIVE- THE RETURN
“OK, boyo, I’m going to seriously bruise that fucking bubble-butt of yours with this whip. I’m not forgetting you can’t see it with that hood and blindfold on. But you can feel these knots trailing down your back right now and tickling your ribs. Right? Just nod. Good. Now I want you to count the strokes as I lay them on you.
Yes, you’ll have to shout through the gag. Here comes number…ONE. Let me hear something. Shout louder next time. TWO. It’s no use trying to pull yourself loose from the ropes. I’m a master at knots as well. THREE. And I like my boys stretched good and tight for thrashing. FOUR. I still can’t hear you. Shout, damn it! FIVE. We’re getting you warmed up nicely. SIX. And let’s try a couple round the front. One to get those nipples erect, and one for your cock – although that’s already at attention.
“You’re sweating – and groaning – and wriggling – that’s good. I like that. Now comes the main event – my seven-inch ramrod at your door. Shit, donut stiffen up. I need your fucking chute relaxed to receive me. That’s right, push back and welcome me into your warmed-over hole. Come on, for Christ’s sake, this is Master Jim giving you a fuck, not some Nelly queen from the nearest leather bar. You told me you’d been ploughed before, so let me in and stretch your passage. No, you can’t buck me out, and I’m coming in all the way.
Continue reading Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 5
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
CHAPTER FOUR – THE REVENGE
Colin and I, Jim Barnes, became part of Tyrell’s elite team. I discovered they were highly respected as an efficient and effective law enforcement group, who took no shit. That was why no-one harassed the sergeant, and why he got his pick of new recruits. He’d got it all worked out – cruisers and bikes by day; bikes only by night – which was very unusual. The HP station operated normally in the daytime, with a small office staff and a full complement of officers. At night there was rarely any workers – only in emergencies. Tyrell was in charge; the captains and lieutenants were content to leave it so, as long as there were no complaints. He kept the basement double-locked, claiming it was a workshop with expensive equipment. Indeed it was, but not the type of equipment in a normal workroom.
Colin and I soon got to know the rest of the group. The women office workers were pleasant and efficient; we, and the sergeant, made much of them and we joked and worked well together. The cruiser drivers and the daytime motor officers seemed straight, mainly family men, although at least one had a gloved hand badge. The night shift was smaller and more exclusive. Basically it was four motor officers – Tyrell, Witkowski, Foreman [Colin] and Barnes [me].
Continue reading Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 4
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
PART THREE – PUNISHMENT
I don’t know how long we hung in our tightly yoked bondage, the dim light refracting on our leather breeches and black boots, as we fought to keep our footing with bound ankles and knees, while our arms ached from being anchored to a high pulley. The sweat dried on our thrashed upper bodies, but our pricks, bound together, enjoyed the constant stimulus and remained rock hard.
Colin gasped occasionally as the rope gag sawed at his tongue, but neither he nor I could move our heads more than an inch and his face was darkened by the leather mask blinding his eyes. He could feel my body as our torsos were bound together, but my groans from the stabbing pain from the nipple clamps were effectively silenced by the black leather gag which had been inflated to fill my mouth.
Eventually our “hosts” returned. “Glad you’re still awake, and ready for the next challenge”, remarked Sergeant Tyrell, stretching in his all-leather uniform and taking off his helmet. Officer Witkowski undid the belts, clamps and cords that bound us together, freeing our pricks to explore further and our bodies to sag independently in their chains.
Continue reading Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 3
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
PART TWO – INITIATION
With my violated and beaten ass and aching arms, I made it back on my bike to my apartment in town. I pulled off my high black boots, stripped off my once shining leathers and took a long hot shower. It didn’t wash away the memory of my rape and I brooded in silence. What could I do alone to get my revenge? How could I get close to the leather-shirted Sergeant Tyrell and learn his tricks and his weaknesses?
Gradually a plan of action emerged. I would join the Highway Patrol and become a motor cop. With luck and careful planning, I could meet Tyrell again and I would take it from there. After all, I knew all about bikes; I’d been riding them for almost ten years, and my three-year military experience should count for something. I gave up my computer sales job and got ready.
I spit-polished my boots until they gleamed, put on a fresh pressed shirt and pants, slung my leather jacket round my shoulders, walked into the nearest Highway Patrol station – and signed on. It was easier than I dared to hope, with my existing background paving the way. Soon after I was called up to the Academy for training.
Continue reading Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 2