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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 06

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By Felon

At this point I had lost all track of time. Firefighters coming and going with 3 shifts a day. The room I had been placed in was somewhat soundproof, although I did notice the smell of food cooking from the club kitchen. Something was simmering on the stove. The room I was locked in was getting hot, and I tried to be near the door to get at least a draft of fresh air to cool things off.

At some point I heard the door being unlocked. It was Fire Chief Dan in a red jock and tee shirt holding a wet towel and a pair of red sweatpants. He was on his way to pick up Probie Dwight from his Nursing Home job. He threw the wet towel at me and slammed the door. I wonder if Probie Dwight had any idea of what was scheduled for the long weekend?

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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 05

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By Felon

All was quiet. I don’t know for how long, by then I had lost all track of time. Then I heard heavy bootsteps approaching, I was not blindfolded and saw the next member of “The Union.” It seems Capt Elroy was coming from work and a blaze that kept him busy all night. A large man, six-foot-two or three, booted, in yellow fireman’s pants with suspenders, black red union tee. He was probably between 45 and 50 years old, shaved bald head, and black skin. This man was in a hurry, or perhaps very horny.

I feel his hand on my ass, then hear the heavy zipper unzipped. He spit on my hole and proceeded to mount me.  He drilled down deep and fast and pounded away. I could smell sweat, smoke, oil, all at the same time. At this point I was groaning, and he quickly pulled out. He strutted over to a counter in the room, removed a squeez bottle of some kind, and shoved it up my ass. I felt a burning sensation and then I felt a wave of calm come over my body. also heard a beer can pop and then Capt Elroy was gulping from the can.

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Story

Starlight – Part 04

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By Raybound

Jed and myself were relaxing in the sitting room. It was the day after the judicial whipping, and I was still very sore. Jed had treated me very well in the aftermath of my beating with the sjambok. He had dressed my wounds after having treated them with an antiseptic ointment. Nevertheless I had spent a somewhat restless night, sleeping on my stomach to avoid any unnecessary pressure on my buttocks that still throbbed from the beating.

“The film is just great,” Jed told me, saying that he had watched my beating several times and shared it with a few friends who were all very complimentary about the content.

“I thought that you might pass out towards the end. You were squealing like a stuck pig. I will advertise it on a few sites for fifty bucks a throw. Should go down a storm. Lots of guys like to watch rough stuff.”

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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 04

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By Felon

So I was strapped down on the table and hospital style restraints were used on my arms and legs. My hole was totally exposed. He left and returned with his straight edge barbers blade to remove excess body hair that the “nair” bath missed. “Stay still,” was the warning, and then I could hear the kitchen door slam and footsteps approaching.

A heavy leather bag was dropped on the floor near me..

“Is this the new probie I have seen on the closed-circuit camera?” This was a booming voice behind me, and I felt a large thumb up my ass. There was some discussion and then both men wanted to “take me out for a test run.”

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Story

The Lock-In – Part 02

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By Cuffed Locked

If you missed it, click for Part 1

My arm was going numb. I had been cranking for what felt like hours. Thirty seconds of spinning to earn maybe ten seconds of light. Long enough to try two combinations, maybe three, on the padlock securing my chain to the solid bolt in Caleb’s floor before the bulb overhead sputtered out and I was swallowed in darkness again. I’d started at 0000. I was somewhere around 0042 now. Forty-two combinations. It felt like nothing. It was nothing. And yet every few attempts meant another round of burning my shoulder, feeding that sad little generator like I was shoveling coal into a dying furnace.

And the second I stopped moving, the silence came rushing back in.

I was trapped in my neighbor’s basement, in a custom escape room that he challenged me to escape from with no safe word, no early outs. And no phone. No clock. No sunlight. I didn’t know if it was 3 a.m. or 9 a.m. I didn’t know if Caleb was upstairs, asleep, watching, or not even home. And somehow, that made it worse. When the light blinked on again, I caught my reflection in the metal face of the lock. My jaw was clenched. Sweat trickled down my chest.

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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 03

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By Felon

So the Chief asked me if I wished to join the “Union.” I indicated yes, and he grabbed me around my neck and led me thru the door into his Union Playroom. It was a large room, probably a storeroom at some point. One of the corners had a large gang shower, two prison style toilets, 2 sinks, and two enema nozzles-one with each shower. He had a suitcase on a table and told me to fully strip and throw my clothes into the suitcase. He slammed it shut and placed a large padlock on the case. He threw the case on a shelf and stepped in front of me. He pulled my arms up over my head and attached them to cuffs swinging from the ceiling.

He indicated before we got things started he did enjoy cleaning and shaving his slaves before the action started. He proceeded to strip down leaving a filthy jock strap on and his helmet. He filled and bucket with hot water and a brush added some gel soap and proceeded to scrub my body.

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Story

Iron Range – Part 02

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By Linc

Note: This story originally appeared on LockedMEN. It is being shared here with permission.

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The heat of summer was well underway, and things had finally slowed enough that weekends started feeling like weekends again: shorter days, lighter work.

During the midday sun, when no one wanted to move more than they had to, Jack sat beside Ethan on the porch, drinking nothing stronger than sun-brewed sweet tea.

“Been meaning to ask,” Jack said, tipping his glass. “That barn — it belong to a neighbor? I know we don’t have livestock.”

“Still mine,” Ethan replied. “Nearest neighbor’s a mile off, easy.”

Jack squinted toward the fields. “How big is this place, anyway? I’ve been working it, but if someone asked me, I don’t think I could even guess.”

“Just over five hundred acres,” Ethan said, like it wasn’t much.

“So what’s it for then, if it’s not for livestock?”

“Storage, mostly. Used to be my dog’s spot during the day — back when I had one. He didn’t like it when I got too far off. I needed him somewhere out of the way. Safe from the equipment.”

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Story

The Jougs

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By Peter B. and Art Intelli

A note from Art: “Here is a short story, soaked in wine, rain, shame, and steel”:

I dinnae remember fallin’ asleep in the alley, but I surely woke up there — flat on my back, cheek pressed to wet stone, and a mouth like I’d been suckin’ on ashes all night.

The bottle was still clutched in my fist — half-empty and warm from my own body. Cheap red wine, the kind that burns more comin’ up than it does goin’ down. The kind that gets you noticed.

And noticed, I was.

I heard him before I saw him — the scrape of leather soles and the hollow clomp of boots with purpose. Then his shadow stretched long over me like a cross at sunset.

I blinked up into his face — his face — that square jaw framed by the kind of gray muttonchops that only grew on men who feared neither sin nor storm. His eyes were cold. Steel blue. Judgmental.

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