Category Archives: Story

Story

The WORC Program – Part 18

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By Joshua Ryan

The rest of the winter … What happened? Nothing. Not even another trip to the bedroom. Bottom line: I was still a workie. I was still a house servant. I was owned by the current partner of my former partner. They had their breakfast, lunch, gym, dinner, movies, friends. I cleaned up after them. I also got up on the long ladder and dug out the gutters. I dragged the dead possum out of the storm drain. Cicero paddled me for stealing a cookie that was supposed to go on Jerry’s birthday cake. My only hope was that Mike and Jerry were hazing me, using me, shaming me, until one day they’d decide to let me go. If I could have shamed myself more, I would have, just to get this to end. I would have worn a leash every day. I would have slobbered at their feet. I would have begged them to rape me. But maybe that would just have made them want to keep me. Yeah, and maybe their favorite way of torturing me was to let me think they’d forgot all about me.

OK, eventually they’d get tired of that. Wouldn’t they? And then they’d let me go. I wished I had somebody to help me figure things out. I wished I had somebody to touch and make love to. I wished I was back with Ace. But if I was ever gonna get out of this, I had to stay in the House and live with a bunch of dumb hopeless faggots and bust my ass to keep Mike and Jerry’s toilets clean.

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Story

Halloween by ty dehner

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By ty dehner

Some would have you believe that Halloween is a time for evil spirits and mischief behavior. Well, for many it is one night for them to gear up and go out in public. But for my Master and me, Halloween occurs nearly every day. Master is a Man who is very creative, always keeps me guessing and challenging me in new ways. Our nearly eight months together have let us learn a great deal about each other, and continued growth is on the horizon.

I was anxious for Halloween, for Master had told me that we would be going out to celebrate the night at the leather bar in town. This would be my first Halloween with Master, and it felt good to have his influence in my life. He instructed me that he would select my costume for the night, something he knew I would thoroughly enjoy.

We normally didn’t head to the bar until later in the evening, and I didn’t think Halloween would be much different. But as I have learned, thinking sometimes gets me into trouble. Around four in the afternoon Master asked if I was ready to get into costume. “Yes Sir!” was the first and only thing out of my mouth.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 17

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By Joshua Ryan

I woke up the next day, and I was still a workie. The other workies knew what I used to be. My former friends knew what I was now. But nothing had changed. Nobody actually cared. After all, I was just a workie. I was a workie the day before; I was a workie now; I would always be a workie. Unless this was all a fuckin nightmare, and I was about to wake up. Or unless Mike and Jerry were gettin their rocks off, shaming me and hazing me, and when they got through, they would throw me out. That was my only hope.

I went back to washing the floors and scrubbing the toilets, and the other workies went back to whatever. Marky and Mr. Meyers took me on their little trips into town. I got better at slogging workie suits from the washer to the dryer. The nights got cold, and the boss brought out a stack of colorful quilts for us to use on our beds. I was ready to puke, it was so faggy. I slept under my ratty old workie blanket, and froze.

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Story

Rubbered Prisoner and the Controlling Master – Part 02

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By Rubbered Prisoner

The Control Adventure Number 2

This is the special adventure that MetalbondNYC readers get to control with their equipment and instructions a month of the Rubbered Prisoner’s life. Any reader who wants can participate without cost, service fee or payment to the Keeper who has the Rubbered Prisoner under Control. Your chosen equipment is locked on for a month and the Rubbered Prisoner follows your harsh instruction for 30 days. See the end of the story for details.

The Rubbered Prisoner had finally gotten to take off the thick tight rubber suit that had been locked on him for the last month. He had finished his night sleeping in the tight hog tie that had as was the custom all month. It had seemed that each night the pull of the binding has been just a bit tighter, and he never got used to it. Much of this master’s plan for him this month seemed to get increasingly worse as the days slowly passed.

His keeper had admitted that it might feel a bit tighter each evening, but he knew because his monthly master’s instructions had always been precise. Maybe the hog tie only used a half an inch less rope each day to pull his body into the contorted position, but each fraction of an inch had made so much of a difference. He was hog tied into a contortion that was fifteen inches more cramped than that at the beginning of the month.

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Story

Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 04

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By felon

The Noose Tightens Further – Paranoia Has Set In…

Many thanks for all the comments from kinky readers.

I am still open to meet men of all ages and sizes for prison sessions.

So I was told to make sure I was available Wednesday from 10 am to 8 pm.

I have had very little conversation with this man — more by e mail than in person. He is imposing, a large, mature top — probably ex-military, and in some kind of parole or prison occupation. He is also very up to date in technology and lets technology do much of his work.

I still have the device locked on my ankle, so he knows every move I make. I still try to carry on a normal life-work, which is permitted, and then come directly home unless I have a need to shop, do laundry etc., by request, most of which is granted. He is keeping a tally of infractions, and as he stated punishment sessions will be this week.

So as I leave work I get a message on my cell phone: “Changes of plans – make yourself available Wednesday, Thursday and Friday – NO EXCUSES! Check your calendar for more information.”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 16

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By Joshua Ryan

Back at the House, the atmosphere seemed to be changing.

Everybody noticed it  — things were different. Cicero was snapping at everyone, at least everyone whose existence he noticed. Sacky complained about “these constant ALTERATIONS in my menus” that were made by Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Thomasen. Marky complained about being rousted “in the middle of the night” — meaning his jerk-off time after dinner and Sacky’s kitchen wine — and having to drive Mr. H and Mr. T to the Parrot Lounge and wait in the car till they “came out with something or other,” a something that spent the night in their bed and was returned to obscurity the next morning, “after stinkin up my car.” Then it all stopped, as suddenly as it started. The Misters decided to try something else.

Late one afternoon, right before dinner, a new workie arrived in the back of a truck and was hauled out of its cage and led to the barracks. Its name was Jody, and it was a very cute young man, or had been before it got put in a workie suit. Clearly, it had done service in some other venue besides Hamilton Farms: there was fuzz on its head, and it still had eyebrows. But it had big brown eyes and a nice slender body. This was no field hand. Wherever it had been, it had been given easy treatment. To its body, anyway. The brain might be different. Its eyes were scared — very scared. Which is normal, when you’ve just been shipped somewhere in a cage. Cicero stood in the door of the barracks and told Nob to “take off its hair and move it up to the House. That’s where it’s gonna live.”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 15

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By Joshua Ryan

So I spent a lot of days sweeping the drive and swabbing the terrace and crawling around getting all the dirt out of the travertine in the foyer, and lots more days hefting 65-percent-polyester-35-percent-cotton workie uniforms out of the washing machines. Not much to say about that. But I do want to talk about a special feature of this phase of my career, which was getting to leave the estate from time to time.

It was sort of like when I was in the coffle—they’d take us out for road work, but afterwards they’d bring us right back to the fences and the razor wire. This time, I was the most expendable part of the crew, so I was the one that was “permitted to accompany” Mr. Meyers and Marky on their shopping trips to town. Marky drove the SUV, and Mr. Meyers rode shotgun, and I was the package-carrier that rode in the back. Marky was a hot young workie and Mr. Meyers — who the workies called Mr. Nance, or just Nance, or Nancy — was always making comments that Marky was careful not to pick up on.

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Story

Rubbered Prisoner and the Controlling Master – Part 01

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By Rubbered Prisoner

What is the Rubbered Prisoner?

The Rubbered Prisoner is a well-proportioned, muscular, 5-foot-10-inch, 25-year-old white male whose function in life is to earn enough money so he can be housed in an isolated small rural bricked facility where he can be tortured in rubber by the regimen of a distant individual except for 8 hours 30 minutes he is allowed to see through his eyes and type on a computer for a long-term substance living he has.

This is the job he has posting accounts receivables for a remote computerized client. At least 10 hours of the prisoner’s time (not necessarily continuous) must be where sleep is possible but not necessarily anything close to comfortable or continuous.

Continue reading Rubbered Prisoner and the Controlling Master – Part 01 →