Category Archives: Story

Story

VRealWorld – Part 02

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Note: This is a sequel to VRansomwear. To start at the very beginning, click here.

VRealWorld

By POW

5: Hunter And His Handler

The bar was much busier when Jeff returned, unsurprising for 8:30 on a Saturday night. Jeff found Martin sitting at the same table as before talking with another man sitting across from him. Martin saw him and waved in greeting.

“Would you excuse me for a moment?” he said to the other at his table, who murmured a polite farewell and stood to go. It was at this point that Jeff noticed the third man at the table, who he had not seen before because he was down on all fours at the feet of the man who was rising to depart. Jeff, the son of generations of Brooklynites, was no stranger to other people engaging in odd behavior and had two stock responses in store for whenever he came across it. One was a blistering stream of profanity and the other was a carefully-blank expression and averted eyes. The first was generally reserved for behavior that affected Jeff in some way and so he was preparing to bring up the second response when something caught him off guard: the man on the floor, who was now rising up just like a dog about to follow in the footsteps of its master, was wearing a thick black rubber suit that looked exactly like the one he had seen Bill in yesterday. Jeff’s poker face crumbled and he gaped like a midwestern farm boy on his first trip to Times Square, only realizing he was doing it when Martin chuckled.

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Story

Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 10

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By AlphaMetal

Day 3, Afternoon – A Prisoner Gets Used

The boys had only been resting for about an hour after the work detail when a man they had never seen walked into the dormitory. He was an older man — in his late 60s at least — with a gray t-shirt stretched over a large beer belly and a messy gray beard. The boys looked at his feet and saw that he was wearing black combat boots and jumped to attention.

The man with the gray beard looked over the four boys with obvious sexual desire. Pretty Boy remembered the “arrangement” that had been made — he wouldn’t have to suffer pain but in return he had become the camp’s sex toy – and he figured Gray Beard was there to fuck him. Pretty Boy imagined being penetrated by this fat man and wondered if it had been planned as punishment for disobeying the Commander the day before. But it was still a good arrangement. Pretty Boy hated pain and if he just closed his eyes and thought of his Master he could get through this.

Gray Beard examined the four boys in their blue prison scrubs, looking over each one closely. Pretty Boy was a cute twink but he was a bit too thin for his scrubs and they hung on him loosely. The Colonel was a total DILF — Cody would have bottomed for him happily — but the Colonel was obviously too old for Gray Beard, who didn’t give him a second look.

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Story

Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 09

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By AlphaMetal

Day 3, Morning – Outdoor Forced Labor

The next morning the boys were again awakened by the sound of Alpha banging his police baton on the metal trash can cover and soon the slaveboy distributed the trays with their breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later Alpha released their ankles from the shackles, the slave distributed their towels and shaving gear, and the boys went to the bathroom to clean up. When they finished they returned to their cots and stood at parade rest following the lead the Colonel set the day before.

The Commander, Alpha, and the slaveboy came into the dormitory. The slave was pushing his cart which this time was piled with blue jeans and construction boots; Timberland-style yellow boots with brown padded leather around the ankles. Cody could also see a pile of steel restraints on the cart’s bottom shelf.

“Strip down and fold your prison uniforms and put them on your cots,” the Commander said. The boys obeyed and got back to parade rest.

The slave placed a pair of jeans, socks, and boots – but no shirt – on the floor in front of each boy and the Commander said, “Put on your work clothes.”

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Story

Punishment Cell at the Citadel Correctional Boot Camp – Part 01

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By Jockboy

It all happened at once. The capture hood came off at the same time I was jolted with a shock from the punishment collar around my neck.

I had been manhandled and stripped in a surprise abduction 24 hours before it was scheduled, then spent hours being transported in the trunk of a car. Not a word had been spoken. I had no clothes, no money, no ID, and no phone

Now I was standing naked outside what looked like a brig cell. I was naked except for my handcuffs and leg irons. The sweat was streaming down the valley in my pecs like a river. My huge biceps and washboard, six-pack abs never seemed so useless as I screamed in pain from the electroshock.

Then I heard the words I’ll never forget from my unseen captor.

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Story

Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 08

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By AlphaMetal

Day 2, Evening – Pretty Boy’s Fate, Part 2

Pretty Boy stood before the Master inside the trailer with his hands still cuffed behind his back.

The Master looked at his boy and said, “You fucked up, boy.”

Pretty Boy looked sad and said, “I know, Sir,”

They looked at each other for a long moment and then the Master gave the handcuffed boy a warm and supportive hug. “Let me take those cuffs off, son,” the Master said, and he removed the handcuffs.

“Are you scared, son?” the Master asked.

“Very much,” Pretty Boy replied honestly.

“I know. It’s OK. Don’t worry, boy. Sit down.”

“I have spoken with the Commander and you won’t be hurt,” the Master said.

Pretty Boy was so overwhelmed with relief that it flooded through him like tears. The boy was so grateful he didn’t know what to say so he just kneeled in front of his Master and opened his mouth slightly.

“Thank you, boy, but sit down. We will do that later. I have missed that but we need to chat.”

“Yes, Sir,” the boy said.

“First of all, this is your one pass this week. If you hesitate or disobey again I have given them permission to punish you, and you will not get to see me or talk to me before it happens. Do you understand, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Continue reading Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 08 →

Story

VRealWorld – Part 01

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Note: This is a sequel to VRansomwear. To start at the very beginning, click here.

VRealWorld

By POW

1: The Prisoner And The Picnicker

The prison cell is not large, maybe ten feet by twelve. There is a long extension at one corner, almost a hallway, at the end of which is a toilet and a sink. The walls are rough-cut stone, dank and dripping with moisture, spotted with lichen and streaked with mineral trails left behind by centuries of trickling water. The air seems like it should be clammy and cold, but instead it is clammy and hot and Bill often finds himself pressing himself up against the stone to try to have it suck some of the excess heat out of his body.

The lighting is dim. Any color that might exist is washed into formless shades of grey. The light comes from nowhere in particular, which is odd because the cell has no windows and there are no light fixtures anywhere that Bill can find. Yet somehow, he can see, though in a limited, gloomy, dismal way. Depressing as it is, at least he’s not stuck in complete blackness.

He has been locked in this cell for what he believes to be more than a week. It is hard to measure time, of course. He is fed occasionally, though on no schedule he can predict, and there is never any change in the light level to draw a distinction between day and night. The only thing keeping him from going insane from boredom and isolation is the occasional arrival of… well, call them “visitors”. Like the food, the visitors arrive at unpredictable intervals and for as long as they are there in the cell with him, boredom and isolation are very low down on his list of troubles. After the visitors leave, after an initial period where he appreciates and enjoys the restored peace and quiet, that’s when the boredom and isolation start to nag at him once more.

He has tried to find a way to escape, of course, but every attempt so far has been unsuccessful. His last serious effort was some unmeasurable amount of time ago. Perhaps two days, maybe three. Since that failure, he has been unable to think of anything to try next. There is one main reason for that:

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Story

Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 07

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By AlphaMetal

Day 2, Late Afternoon – Pretty Boy’s Fate, Part 1

Alpha released Pretty Boy’s hands from the eye-bolt on the wall and the slave removed the four rubber restraints from the boy’s wrists and ankles. The slave handed Pretty Boy a towel and he dried himself off.

Alpha led Pretty Boy from the shower room back into the room where the intake had taken place. Pretty Boy noticed the black wooden bondage table against one wall, the medical exam chair with stirrups in a corner, and the wall with steel rings and metal restraints at various location. He was naked and there were a lot of places he could be restrained for whatever was going to happen next.

Alpha led him toward the black wooden bondage table and Pretty Boy began to wonder what would be done to him. But instead of being motioned to climb onto the table he saw a folded set of clean prison scrubs and a clean pair of white boxers. Alpha pointed to the clothes and the boy got dressed.

Alpha roughly pulled the boy’s hands behind his back and Pretty Boy felt a pair of handcuffs applied to his wrists, and then Alpha and the slave led the boy out of the intake room and into the room where he sat on the floor when he was first brought to the camp. That just yesterday, Pretty Boy reflected with in amazement.

The slave laid a pair of clean flip-flops on the floor and pointed to Pretty Boy’s feet, motioning for him to put on the flips. Pretty Boy looked at the slave with confusion; the Commander had said he was going to barefoot his whole time at the camp. The slave looked at Pretty Boy and said, “It’s to keep your feet clean as you walk outside.”

Continue reading Training Week at the Campground: A Novel – Part 07 →

Story

One, Police Plaza, NYC

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By Bearded Mike

This is a true account of a chance meeting I had a few years back in NYC.

I was on a business trip to New York, and on a morning when I had no commitments I’d been down to Battery Park and was travelling back uptown by bus. It was around lunchtime and the bus was already crowded – people were standing but I was OK and had one of those side-facing seats toward the front of the bus.

I found myself staring at the back-side of a guy who was strap-hanging the same as all the other standing passengers but there was something different about this guy – showing through a back pocket of his jeans I could clearly see the outline of a pair of handcuffs!

My heart was racing, the adrenaline pumping. Was this guy a cop? But he wasn’t in uniform. Was he a collector of cuffs like myself? Or was there some other reason why he was carrying cuffs? I had no way of knowing.

But suddenly I did have a possible way of knowing. Unexpectedly the bus lurched and the standing passengers were jolted to such an extent that “my” guy stepped backward – right onto my foot. He half turned, looked down at me and muttered an apology. I assured him that I was perfectly OK and he went back to his strap-hanging – and I went back to staring at his cuffs. I was fantasising about trying to strike up some sort of conversation with the guy; a perfect opportunity had presented itself when he stepped on my foot, but I’d bottled out and hadn’t had the guts to get into conversation

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