Category Archives: Story

Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 03

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By Hunter Perez

My first night as Zeb’s cellmate was not the most serene experience. We had a none-too-large bed to share, and Zeb’s muscular body took up a surplus amount of space. I also discovered he snored ferociously while twisting and turning in his sleep. After being pummeled aurally and physically, I got out of bed and stood by the cell door, looking out into the dark corridor with the vain belief that I could be rescued. A dim lantern appeared at the far end of the corridor – it was Sergeant Patterson on night patrol, pausing to take a quick look into each cell. When he came to mine, he was initially surprised to see me awake, then looked behind me to the snoring Zeb spread out across most of the bedspace.

“Sorry it had to happen to you, son,” Patterson commiserated. “He’s a great guy when he’s awake, but when he’s asleep it’s another matter.”

“There wouldn’t happen to be a vacant cell where I could spend the night?” I asked. “I’d even be willing to sleep in the stables.”

“Sorry, son, but I can’t let you out,” Patterson replied. “I am sure you can figure something out – you’re a smart one.”

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 02

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By Hunter Perez

Of course, it would be my rotten luck to be handcuffed behind my back to the cell door while Holmgren held out an envelope containing a letter from Nicky – the first direct contact from the 21st century since I arrived in the 19th century. I asked Holmgren to unlock me, but he responded he didn’t have the keys because the handcuffs belonged to Private Charleson.

“I can hold up the letter for you to read or I can read it to you,” he said while balancing his cigar on the edge of the box’s lid.

“You might as well read it to me,” I said, sourly.

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Story

A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 01

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By Hunter Perez

NOTE: This is a sequel! To read the first series, click here

So, how is life mistreating me? Funny that I should ask. Since we last connected, there has been bad news and sort of bad news.

The bad news is that the warden fell in love with Holmgren’s idea of getting the local saloon keeper to pay for his son Zeb’s education while he was incarcerated. As you may recall, Zeb is illiterate, and his dad wants him to take over the saloon business – which is a tad difficult when you can’t read the liquor bottle labels. According to Holmgren, the warden thought the idea was so brilliant that he insisted on a 70 percent to 30 percent split of the “tuition” – the warden, of course, taking the bigger cut. With this scheme, the plan to have my sentence commuted was put on the proverbial back burner – although I fear it will bypass the back burner and go straight into the trash can if the saloon keeper agrees to it.

The sort of bad news was the delay in getting the saloon keeper’s approval – he was called out of town for at least two weeks, thus delaying the finality of whether I would be trapped in prison (if he approved) or set free (if he disapproved). Without a firm answer, I was stuck in limbo – or, to be more precise, the spruced-up solitary confinement cell that was supposed to be a temporary residence on my road to liberty.

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 01 →

Story

True Potential – Part 03

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By BootDeputy

“Keep it up, almost done.” A stern voice called from above Logan. He had been pissing in the funnel for what felt like three minutes now. It was mostly beer piss which went down the easiest for Logan, like drinking out of a warm water bottle.

When he finally finished, Logan mentally tallied his sixth load of urine being soaked up in his stomach.

Like pipework. Just like a real urinal, he thought to himself.

The Man had left the bathroom. He was only the second person to communicate something at Logan, making it feel a bit more intimate. The other four just simply walked in, pissed and left, which made Logan feel pulled toward a mindset that he could only describe as powerful and omnipresent in his own mind.

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Story

True Potential – Part 02

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By BootDeputy

Logan floated in space for a while, switching between struggling and stillness. His position wasn’t uncomfortable but if he stayed still for too long, he felt like he was spinning in zero gravity if he thought about it too much.

He tried distracting himself by thinking about Officer Rick’s boots that he was worshipping what was probably only an hour ago, or maybe two. It felt so good to be of use to a Man like Him. Logan had always loved the idea of being objectified as a tool or piece of furniture, but also knew that real challenge was to not let the desire for interaction to overwhelm while in “storage”.

The idea of being stored away was one of the elements of objectification that appealed to Logan the most and so far seemed to be one of the greater struggles as he hanged there, breathing in the Officer’s piss.

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Story

True Potential – Part 01

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By BootDeputy

Logan parked his beat-up car in a slot at the end of the lot of the apartment building. Sixteen stories of glass and balconies towering over him. He pulled out his phone and checked the messages describing his instructions.

Logan put one hand underneath his shirt and pulled the rubber layer away from his arm pit to adjust its fit. It was only his second time wearing it, and still getting used to it. Though it gripped his body nicely and he liked how it looked over his developing muscles. He had to switch to XL shirts two months ago. After he had met Officer Rick.

Officer Rick was an older, well-built Man that Logan met at an auto shop. Logan was trying to find parts for his water pump that needed to be replaced, and after about 20 minutes staring at the same shelf, Rick walked over to him and helped him out. He was getting cleaning supplies for his motorcycle Rick told Logan.

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Story

Nate – Part 06

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By slavebladeboi

It was a long night for Nate once he returned home after supper with Mike. They had chatted into the small hours about their lives, their fantasies, and the down-to-earth facts that often get forgotten when you’re swept up in the heat of your desires. Nate’s brain was swirling with images of the recent past and expectations of an exciting future. He couldn’t wait to return the next morning and dive into whatever Mike had thought up for him. But he did, eventually, fall into a deep and dreamless sleep.

He was awakened, later than he intended, by a text message from Mike. “Sorry, Nate. The guy I’m working with on a new project has gone sick and I’ve got to cover for him. We’ll get back to where we left off when we can. Cheers. Mike.” Nate sat up. He felt like a concrete block had just been strapped to his back, and he bent over, simply staring at the screen. All the energy had been knocked out of him in the few seconds it took him to read that simple message. He got out of bed and looked across the street through the slats of the blinds. He wouldn’t be standing there wanking today, all his motivation and inclination had drained away.

The rest of the day followed the same lethargic pattern. He considered the list he had made of the jobs to do around the house, plus any assignments he had to finish before college started again.

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Story

Nate – Part 05

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By slavebladeboi

Mike held the crop with two hands and stood back from the fuck bench. The three deep red lines it had just made on Nate’s ass stood out against the pale-pink skin that covered the rest of the boy’s rear end. He was quite surprised that, so far, Nate had chewed down hard on the gag and not made more than a fast exhalation of breath when the crop had bitten into him. Mike was also aware that he was using the length of the riding crop more as a cane than simply smacking Nate with the leather tip, increasing the pain somewhat, to make sure Nate understood the difference between punishment and an erotic beating. Seven more to go.

Stepping back into position, Mike raised his arm once more. There wasn’t any perceptible swishing sound cutting through the air as he very forcefully brought it down, and Nate suddenly jerked forward in his bonds as it landed. His head jolted against the collar, and this time he made a throaty yell through the gag, pulling at the cuffs that were fastened around his wrists.

Mike didn’t pause for long between strokes, maybe two or three seconds, so number five fell almost directly after number four, this time with a louder muffled yell together with a spray of drool and the sound of rattling steel as Nate’s wrists again tugged at the cuffs. Nate was audibly panting. His eyes were screwed tight. Mike knew he needed to make a point but was also aware of not pushing Nate too far too soon. He continued with the thrashing, using slightly less force, but still hard enough to produce a fine set of ten red welts across the tight, up to now pristine, perfect boy ass.

Continue reading Nate – Part 05 →