Category Archives: Story

Story

One Year – Part 14

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By Taurus

Part 14 – “A Friend”

Russell slowly undid James’ bondage, first flipping him on his front to unknot the rope, then onto his backside. The gag came out last, after he had been sat back up.

“Sir…”

“I know what you’re gonna ask me, so I’ll tell you: pleasure sessions don’t mean orgasm sessions. I could let you cum, or I could edge you. The pleasure was in the time you were free from your cage.”

A lengthy silence capped off this part of the conversation. It was Russell who broke the silence.

“Got any more questions?”

“Who was that just now, sir?”

“It’s Riley, another slave like you.

“He’s new here, and he’s staying for a month, a little longer than the two weeks for most normal people.”

James blushed. The year he signed up for was just a tiny bit crazier. Seeing this, his handler chuckled and patted his shoulder.

“Ah, his thing is being treated like shit. He asked for his handler to all round abuse him. All allowed in the contract, of course.”

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Story

One Year – Part 13

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By Taurus

Part 13 – “Momentous Day”

To say day 164 was a momentous day was an understatement.

Almost half of James’ stay had elapsed, and not once he had been released from chastity. There were the regular sadistic medical checkups that allowed him two minutes of freedom every 30 days, but if anything, it was worse than being locked up.

Consider it more than 5 months of continuous chastity where anything more than a totally flaccid cock would start to hurt. And consider it chastity where the locked person is always naked, and the slightest brush on his hairy, hairy body – very common – would trigger an erection.

To summarise his experience in one paragraph, James would start to hurt if he got hard at all, and he got hard if he closed his eyes, looked down, or if he made any movement at all, for that matter. Safe to say, this experience was mostly, if not composed entirely of, great pain.

Today, there was a hope that all this would change.

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Story

Journal to Hell – Part 05

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By rts

The light comes on, the cell door swings open, another day of hell begins after another miserable night in sweaty leathers with butt plug torment. A single skinhead steps in and says, “Fag prisoner #5, get your butt over the squat toilet and present your ass.” Jake crawls on hands and knees, chains rattling, over the dirt floor and waits by the pit. The skinhead unlocks and removes jakes’s muzzle and the crotch strap from the harness, unzips his butt access and proceeds with the enema.

Looking over at me says, “I haven’t forgotten you, fag, enjoy this.” He then presses a control on the remote box he carries, and my butt plug starts vibrating with a new intensity as my cock tries to respond in the painful constriction of my seed pod.

“Listen up both you faggots, my two mates and I have a plan to get you poor sorry leather fags out of this hell hole and us with you and stick it to that fucker overseer skin and some cowboys. We can get you your bikes, gas and all your personal IDs. Me and my two mates have also been trapped here for months with the same future you all have.

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Story

Displayed – Part 03

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By Pickle

~ Chapter 11 ~

Once secured tightly in the front seat of the SUV again, I was only half-listening to Hernandez and Gunnerson discussing how screwed I was going to be today, and that it was going to be chest day at the gym, and that Hernandez was going to put me through that.  The half of my brain that wasn’t listening to their constant banter was wondering exactly what shit they were going to do to me.  I was beginning to think of it as “extreme hazing” and I had to admit to myself a small dark and twisted part of me was liking the masculinity, toughness and brotherhood of what these macho behemoths were putting me through.  Even in as much pain as I am, I realized I was starting to look forward to them roughing me up, and having their sadistic fun with me.  I guess I was even beginning to realize these guys maybe even liked me a little … maybe they just enjoy knocking the crap outta me though, who knows?  Oh well, whatever, it’s now obvious to me that I don’t have a choice, and that this seems like it’s going to be my life for a long time.  It’s like being in a bondage prison but so far I get to go home at night.

I’m knocked out of my reverie when the truck rolls to a stop outside the barn and Gunnerson says, “Hey Pick!  Just got a text from “The Boss”.  He says to take it a little easy on ya today.  Just scarecrow you, take you to the gym, then bring you back here and put you on the rack to get two more years out of you.  We drew up the new contracts last night before we left, Dill.  We’re gonna enjoy breaking you again.  Hell, maybe we’ll even dislocate those shoulders for ya today, and let you suffer for a few minutes before we put ‘em back in for ya.  That’s actually part of the initiation for our Tier 1 Seals.  I know we’re not making a real Seal outta you, but there’s no harm in toughening you up like one, Pick!

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Story

One Year – Part 12

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By Taurus

Part 12 – “More”

James enjoyed his life tenfold more with Russell at the reins. He was much more present and affectionate as a handler.

His morning on the sand track pulling his cart was essentially made a play session, as Russell would sometimes sing cowboy tunes as he walked around. He spent a few days getting used to it before he stopped laughing his ass off through his bit gag.

Submissive training became more varied. Cocksucking was done regularly still, but for every two days of it, there was a day with training for something else. Currently, James had the pleasure of being trained to take nipple clamps, a hogtie position, and finally, a dildo.

Finally, something in the ass.

No official pleasure sessions though, but that was good enough for his sanity already; it should tide him over a few weeks.

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Story

One Year – Part 11

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By Taurus

Part 11 – “Listening”

The torturous regime of flogging, meal, workout, meal, and back into the cage continued another two days.

James begged for mercy, to be let out of the dungeon in order to work out or maybe even breathe some fresh air on the outdoor sand track.

He was heard, but not in the way he might have liked. His pleas fell on a pair of intently listening ears, ears of a person who responded earnestly with myriad lashes.

Well, like the old saying goes, the flogging must go on. (This may be wrong, I advise against quotation.)

The only difference between these two days and the first was the absence of getting cum on himself, something he really did not want to happen again. He may be hot, but the dungeon was hotter, and because he marinated in sweat and drool and cum, he stank.

Smelled real bad.

More cum just means more suffering.

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Story

Displayed – Part 02

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By Pickle

~ Chapter 6 ~

(Day Two)

I wake up barely being able to move.  Even getting dressed in jeans and the red and black shirt that Gunnerson told me I had to wear today, “So you’ll be more noticeable when we “scarecrow” ya tomorrow, Bo”, was all I could do.

I grab a fast coffee and a banana before picking up my gym bag, and heading out the door to the driveway.  By my phone it’s 5:55, but Moore, with one of the other guys I met when I was leaving the “Farm” yesterday afternoon, was already there.  I had learned he was Sergeant Sutherland by checking out the various sections of “The Country Boy Punishment Club” website last evening.  I had been able to view not only my own punishments from the day, but also a lot of shit the other “Recruits” were being put through, ranging from a number of different tortures, but also being put through rigorous PT, and running several different obstacle courses set up to be even tougher than any of the Tough Mudder courses I’d seen.  They were all covered in muck by the time they made it to the end of the courses, IF they made it all the way through these sadistically designed obstacle courses, at all.

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Story

One Year – Part 10

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By Taurus

Part 10 – “Something Changed”

The number of days since James had last seen civilization, and treated like a member of it, just crossed into the triple digits.

100.

100 consecutive days locked in chastity without any clothes and almost always toiling for one thing or another.

Arnold, as ever, entered James’ cell in the morning, the occupant of which faced the other way from the cell door, owing to its symmetrical design whose task was to disorient. He spun himself around by instinct and knelt on his mattress, back straight, legs crossed, looking straight ahead and arms squared behind his back.

The many days where the same old stuff happens has allowed the slave and his handler to go through the day without much talking, if any at all. No need for commands if tasks could be done out of habit. The first day of perfect silence was day 25, and many more have been achieved since then.

Then again, when one spends most of their time gagged or muzzled with the threat of severe pain looming over them if they do try and say a word, one tends to keep a little quiet.

Not that you would have any choice.

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