Category Archives: Story

One Year – Part 16

By Taurus

Part 16 – “Help”

Russell stayed true to his word, and punished his slave.

Far from simply flogging, he decided his slave needed reconditioning. A recalibration of the senses and sensibilities, if you will.

James did not take it well.

Over the past months, James grew used to spending handler sessions with a naked Russell, who cuddled with him and offered him warmth extinct practically everywhere else he searched. Even during times he was not supposed to have fun, like training, he found sincere happiness in it.

Now, everything was taken away.

The walking laps in the sun where Russell sang cowboy tunes were no more. They were now no-nonsense, and the pace was stricter. Submissive training now included a lecture on his identity as a lowly slave.

Most heartbreaking for James however, was without a doubt the handler sessions before sleep.

Continue reading One Year – Part 16

One Year – Part 15

By Taurus

Part 15 – “Treats”

Day 194. The day for James’ second pleasure session, and the last day of Riley’s stay.

James awoke to the all too familiar blaring alarm in eager anticipation.

In came through the cell door a slave and two handlers, no doubt Russell and Riley with his handler.

Riley was fully naked, and thrown onto James’ mattress as expected. The slaves were ordered to drink the protein shake breakfast together, and so they did, on all fours and side by side like pigs at a sty. Their teeth were brushed straight after.

What was not expected, however, was the proceedings of the pleasure session itself. Strangely, the slaves were left alone, both without restraints other than chastity, locked in the cell while their handlers left presumably for breakfast.

Regardless, they took the chance to play. They tousled with each other, with a hint of play-fighting – light slapping among a bit of wrestling.

Continue reading One Year – Part 15

One Year – Part 14

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.”

Continue reading One Year – Part 14

One Year – Part 13

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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Journal to Hell – Part 05

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.

Continue reading Journal to Hell – Part 05

Displayed – Part 03

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!

Continue reading Displayed – Part 03

One Year – Part 12

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.

Continue reading One Year – Part 12

One Year – Part 11

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.

Continue reading One Year – Part 11