Category Archives: Story

Officer Swift – Part 4

By straitjacketkwf2

My mind was reeling. I was trapped inside Dr. Erickson’s private asylum that operated as if it were for the criminally insane. The “treatment” consisted of the use of physical restraint and drugs to modify behavior. I persisted in maintaining my will against the attempts so far to change my belief system, even if I did question aspects of my being. It is true, I had repressed any sexual feelings while I was in school and in my first months as a cop. And now this: being forced to bring back those questions I had asked myself and then so easily dismissed.

What happed to me next is, even now, still painful to recall. As I lay on the jail cell green and shiny vinyl mattress in a canvas straitjacket, which I later learned was a Posey friction buckle jacket, in a diaper and leg cuffs, I realized how vulnerable I was. I heard someone’s heavy footsteps making their way walking down the corridor to our cell; it was Nelson with a meal.

During the entire stay in the asylum the meals were never breakfast, lunch or dinner, just meals. I was never really sure if it were day or night. This was deliberate on the part of the asylum; neither Dave nor I knew how long we had been in this hellhole of a place.

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Officer Swift – Part 3

By straitjacketkwf2

Part Three — This One Gets the Full Treatment

The two orderlies who “escorted” me to the treatment room did not speak as we moved through the corridors and down the elevator. These were large men, not overweight, mind you, but they had tremendous muscle bulk and, based on how easily they forced me along, were quite strong.

As the elevator descended to the basement level, I looked at the name tags of the “goons” who held me prisoner. On my right was Mr. Johnson, who was about six feet tall, had the build of a prize-winning body builder, with his white shirt stretched across his massive, chiseled chest. The white pants had a loose fit, but his thigh muscles were clearly visible through the fabric. His short cut blond hair and piercing blue eyes gave credence to my belief that many blond men had “attitude” problems. To my left was Mr. Nelson, almost a twin of Johnson, but with dark brown hair and brown eyes.

The elevator doors opened in front of the door labeled “Hydrotherapy Level Five,” which opened into a large room with cinderblock walls that had been painted institutional green with steel doors along the right and left walls. I was dragged from the elevator to the counter window of the nurses’ station in the middle of the room. Johnson handed a folder, my “medical chart,” to the male nurse inside the work area. The nurse looked familiar; it was Nurse Reynolds from the clinic. He looked at the chart, entered some information into his computer terminal and then looked at Mr. Johnson.

Continue reading Officer Swift – Part 3

Officer Swift – Part 2

By straitjacketkwf2

Seeing those two new orderlies coming toward us in the dayroom, all I could think of was football linebackers. These guys’ muscles were massive, and the pair of them looked as if they spent half, if not all, of their day in the gym.

“Jim, Dave, it’s time for your medication,” the blond orderly said.

Almost in unison, both Dave and I said, “What medication?” Dave continued, “Dr. Clarke did not mention anything about medication.”

The blond with the nametag Boris towered over us. “Dr. Clarke is no longer managing your cases. Your new psychiatrist is Dr. Erickson. He has reviewed your charts and has prescribed a mild sedative. Now drink this.”

I tried to avoid the paper cup with the drugged juice, turning my head any way I could while at the same time trying to get up from the chair. Boris forced me back down into the chair with one of his massive hands on my right shoulder. Then he pinched my nose with his thumb and forefinger while holding me down by pushing his knee against my crossed arms. When I gasped for air he poured the thick, overly sweet liquid down my throat with little effort, letting me know that he had indeed done this many times in the past.

Continue reading Officer Swift – Part 2

Officer Swift – Part 1

By straitjacketkwf2

Waking up from modern sedation is something that I will never get used to. I heard the voice in the blackness, “Wake up, Mr. Swift.” I felt someone shaking my shoulders and repeating, “Mr. Swift, you need to wake up.” From the blackness I opened my eyes and saw a figure leaning over me. I tried to sit up but was firmly held down.

“Mr. Swift,” the man above me spoke in an authoritative voice, “I will need your assistance in changing your diaper.”

Diaper! What was he talking about? Only then did I feel the dampness around my groin. I tried to sit up, but my arms were held tight against my chest. I could not move my arms. I raised my head and saw the white canvas that covered my arms and chest. “What is going on?” I asked. “And who are you? Where am I?” The questions streamed out as I regained my mind from the fog of the drug.

Continue reading Officer Swift – Part 1

Object Permanence – Chapter 04

By BootDeputy

CHAPTER 4: DESCENT

The night continued; I recycled piss like it was the only thing I’m good for.

(What it’s good for) echoed in my mind.

After the fifth load I had calmed down a bit. I had no idea what to think of about the sleepsacks in the tree, but for my mental sake I just focused on my own situation.

I had no sense of who was around me. I was only ever approached as a utility and only realized it was happening when it flooded into my mouth. Sometimes coarse chunks were guzzled down in the process. It seemed to be ash.

Every so often, one of the men would adjust my chair from kneeling to sitting and back again with the next one before draining into the gag. A benefit of that was that I could rest my knees on the chair. I think they were adjusting me more for height convenience than my comfort.

Someone pulled my caged cock out of my catsuit at one point, and it wasn’t until then that I also realized that my bladder was full. I instantly started to drain through the urethral tube.

Continue reading Object Permanence – Chapter 04

The Trucker – Part 01

By Steellock

Matt sat on the grass bank by the roadside and checked the note that had come with the package of leather that the Trucker had sent through via Jim:

‘Wear your bleacher jeans, Levi jacket and those boots. Nothing else.

Buckle on the padded wrist restraints, lock them on.

Then buckle the ankle restraints over your boots and lock them.

Pull on the hood then zip it closed and lock the zip to the collar with the last small padlock

Use the big padlocks, one through the D rings on your ankle restraints to lock your boots together and the last through the D loops on your wrists behind your back.

Sit on the bank and wait by the mile marker and wait for me.

He looked down and checked his body. His bleacher, sleeveless Levi jacket hanging open, pushed out by his wide shoulders and hanging open over his heavy pecs and ribbed 6 pack. His arms with their bulging biceps and triceps hanging down by his sides, the wide black leather belt cinched tight round his narrow waist, through the loops in his 501 bleacher jeans. His heavily muscled thighs filling out the legs. The jeans stopped in a turnup mid-calf, and he could then see his heavy, polished black, Grinder boots with their neat tight yellow laces showing as a row of 20 lines on each one.

Continue reading The Trucker – Part 01

10 – A Chastity Story

By boyryan54

BoyRyan54 chastity storiesI pull off his rubber isolation hood, looking into his watery and bloodshot eyes. His eyes are pleading with me, and I can barely hear the muffled begging coming from his tightly tape gagged mouth. But I will not sway. He knows what the deal was, and how much I compromised to take him on.

Back when we met seven years ago, he was so cocky and full of himself, 25 years old and convinced the world was at his feet. He was constantly playing with other “doms” and tops, getting very pushy and getting his way when it came to play. After all, he viewed it as an honor for others to enjoy his body. Things changed a bit when he met me. He knew I was different and wouldn’t cater to him. In fact, I never approached the topic of play with him. I knew that if I withheld my passion for the bdsm lifestyle from him, it would drive him crazy. In his eyes, no man would ever refuse him.

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Cop & Dom

By ChastitySub

Part I

The Cop and the Dominator had met at the gym. They started working out together: the Cop liked the Dominator for pushing him harder in his lifting workouts. Sure, maybe he was a little attracted to the Dominator on some man-to-man level … but the Cop was a straight, tough cop, and didn’t go that way sexually.

The Cop would show up at the gym in his motorcycle uniform with his big, black, shiny boots creaking on the wooden floor as he walked through the gym as if he owned it — along with all those sweating under unforgiving machines. From time to time, he’d stop to flirt with a slender woman at the front desk, or look insistently in the direction of a girl working out.

The Cop clearly liked standing around the gym in his uniform before heading to the locker room, where he’d change into tight military-issue green shorts and a jockstrap. Sometimes he would wear a regular jockstrap, but other times a jock and cup. The cup would cause a huge bulge in his little green shorts, and the top of his jockstrap often poked teasingly over the shorts’ waistband. But clearly he could care less if the gays and drooling women kept looking at the suggesting bulge. The Cop had big strong legs, and a muscular butt round enough to stretch the fabric of his shorts into two perfect spheres. He exhibited smooth pecs that Dominator was convinced were shaved, although he never teased the Cop about it. The Cop’s pecs and nipples stood out in his tight white under armor shirt.

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