Category Archives: Story

Story

Dakota Human Resources – Chapter 01

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By CFlex

Chapter 1 – ‘The Operation Gets Some Visitors’

Jason wasn’t supposed to see what he had seen.

He had gotten shit-faced because it was the weekend and he needed to unwind. Driving was a bad choice but he thought it wouldn’t matter in desolate western North Dakota. Who makes good choices when they’re toasted, anyway? Jason was having fun driving on unpaved back roads in his 2021 Bronco. The dirt and gravel were new to him and at first he had a death-grip on the wheel. Then the alcohol got the best of him. Jason got overconfident.

Jason couldn’t negotiate a well-marked, sharp, left turn and the Bronco’s stability control wasn’t going to save his ass. He went straight ahead and got some air. His pucker-factor was at a 10! He landed on all fours going down a tumbleweed infested slope. Jason was screaming “FUUUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK OF FUCKS!” as he careened down the hill.

The derby-worthy ride ended and the Bronco came to a stop on another road – upright! Jason looked up the path he had just made and was amazed he was alive – let alone conscious! There were blue and red flashing lights coming from just around a bend in the road. FUCK! COPS!

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Story

Mounted Cops – Part 3

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Three Mounted Police Stories

Stories Of Different Mounted Cops, Booted, In Bondage And Fucked

3 – Leather Mirror

By Alex Ironrod

Copyright 2021; All rights reserved

I groaned, my arms chained at full stretch to the walls of the stall, my uniform being cut off my struggling body. What the fuck had happened? I’d only been stationed here in the mounted detachment armory for just over a week and this was my first night duty. At six feet and 200 lbs, I can usually take care of myself. I’d been patrolling the barn, and stopped to admire myself in the full-length mirror by the door.

Yes, the dark blue uniform fitted me snugly in all the right places and the tall black leather boots hugged my thighs tightly. The spurs reflected the light as I bent down to tighten one of the straps, when he struck the first blow across my shoulders. I fell to the floor and a follow-up kick to my balls from his boot really had me writhing in agony. He had me up against the wall, and one thick cuff locked round my left wrist immediately. Then he jerked me upright and yanked on the other arm.

The cuff was waiting – solid, over an inch thick, unyielding, and I hung helpless, as he kicked my legs apart and chained each of them to metal supports in the floor. Two rapid-fire punches to my stomach and face immobilized me further, but my helmet protected my head itself.

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Story

Mounted Cops – Part 2

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Three Mounted Police Stories

Three Stories Of Different Mounted Cops, Booted, In Bondage And Fucked

2 – Trooper Greg’s Story

By Alex Ironrod

Copyright 2021; All rights reserved

A line of sleek horses passed by, their riders’ firm, tight-breeched asses rising and falling at the trot as I crouched behind the hedge, secretly watching. At the rear was a large black stallion, mounted by a tall, broad-shouldered officer in sharply creased uniform shirt and tie, tight breeches with a thin red stripe and gleaming tall black Dehner boots and spurs – the man I hungered to serve.

It was becoming an obsession. Here I was, a member of the Hunterville Police Department for three years, spying on this powerful Master Sergeant. I was desperate to join his Mounted Unit, to worship and lick the leather of those shining boots, to perform whatever sexual services he might demand. I’d found out what was needed to join the small, mounted troop. I’d had some experience with horses from my summers on my uncle’s farm as a teenager, but I knew my cowboy ways wouldn’t pass muster.

So I’d been taking riding lessons twice a week, punishing my butt on an English saddle and achieving a hard-on, just thinking about getting between Master Sergeant Alex Brand’s strong thighs.

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Story

A Weekend in Sportbike Leathers

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By Pisslurper

I ride a Suzuki GSX-R600.  Sportbikes and sportbike riders turn me on.  I love nothing more than a hot guy clad in sportbike leathers, especially on a hot day when you know sweat is running down his body, pits and crotch—ripe and ready for licking.

A few years ago I had planned on a summer weekend overnight at buddy’s house in a city about 110 miles from the small town where I lived.  This buddy used to be sort of a master for me, but by now our relationship had evolved to more of friends with bondage benefits.

My motorcycle allows no space for gear, just a tiny spot under the seat large enough for a wallet and maybe a toothbrush.  So, the plan was for me to wear my leathers with nothing but a jockstrap on underneath, my racing gloves, boots, and full face helmet.  I would carry nothing but a wallet in the space under the seat.  If needed I could wear some of my buddy’s clothes when I got to his house, but usually I spend all the indoor time either naked or in my jockstrap, and we was planning on going out to the Eagle in our racing leathers.  The two hour ride to the city wound through some pretty scenic countryside, so I was looking forward to the day.  I planned the route out all on backroads, ’cause interstates pretty much suck, especially on a bike.

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Story

Mounted Cops – Part 1

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The Mounted Police Stories

Three Stories Of Different Mounted Cops, Booted, In Bondage & Fucked

1 – Kevin’s Story

By Alex Ironrod

Copyright 2021; All Rights Reserved

He was exactly what I was looking for – a broad-shouldered 6 ft hunk, with dark hungry eyes. I was finishing seminars in Boston for mounted police units, and we were touring the Boston PD stables. Naturally we were dressed in our best working uniforms. As Master Sergeant of Hunterville PD Mounted Troop, I was wearing our light tan tailored uniform shirt, tight tan riding breeches, my tall black custom Dehners, which hugged my legs, and my spurs.

I knew I looked good, filling out my uniform in all the right places. He was obviously a stableman, a junior in the ranks and older than most, but his overall was clean and creased, and his boots had been polished that morning. His smoldering eyes followed me, watching how the light slid across my shining boots and flashed on the tips of the spurs.

I smiled and walked over to him.

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Story

An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 3

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By Alex Ironrod

The sound of the chinking spurs and the thud of the barn door told the leather-bound Aggie Jack Thomson that Ranger Brad Steenbeck was back; he jingled his spurs in response. “Wait, boy, while I get things into place,” snapped the ranger. He heard something heavy being pushed into the open space, and then Brad, clad again in tight black leather chaps, high Dehner boots and different western spurs, came into his limited view.

“Right, let’s get my young stallion ready to be finally mastered.” Jack was untied from the post and clumped in his Dehners, enmeshed in leather from harness to chaps and boots, still bound and gagged, to a padded bench, and then forced down on it. His booted and spurred feet were strapped far apart to the bottom corner of the bench, and his body pulled so that his aroused penis slid into a hole cut for the purpose.

Then his wrists were loosened from around his neck and shackled to the opposite corners of the bench. Two straps forced his chest and waist into the leather-like top of the bench, and the reins from the bit gag were shaken loose around his head. Brad walked around, checking the bindings and stroking his butt and the horsehair tail plug growing out of it.

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An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 2

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By Alex Ironrod

Something woke Jack Thomson from his troubled doze. He struggled, but his arms remained outstretched, roped. Instead he only succeeded in tormenting his prick, tied to the saddle horn, and his ass hole with its invasive thick plug. Unable to see or hear much through the thick leather of the hood, or to move his hobbled legs, he wobbled in the saddle atop the wooden saddle rack.

The leather creaked and then he heard the ching of those damned spurs of Ranger Brad Steenbeck, whose voice seemed far away, “Wake up, kid, time to get moving.” His penis was released, then his legs and finally his arms. But the Aggie still couldn’t see anything through the leather across his face, and his mouth was sore and dry from the tight gag. “Come on, try to dismount.” Jack could feel Brad’s arms supporting him, as he willed his tired muscles to move, after his all-night torment. He finally slid out of the saddle, to be held by the ranger, who untied the hood and the leather gag.

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Story

An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 1

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By Alex Ironrod

This story contains adult-oriented material, involving sexually explicit, non-consensual behavior between men.

Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. All rights reserved.

This story is posted here with permission.

Jack Thomson was pissed off, pissed at himself. He’d done in the transmission of his car on a rock sticking out of the dirt on the back road. It was his own fault for showing off to Mary-Louise. He’d invited her to the parade at Texas A & M, and he’d dressed up in his cavalry uniform – khaki breeches with a wide flare, spit-polished brown boots and his uncle’s Prince of Wales spurs, with new straps – his right as a senior. He knew his 6’ frame looked good in the khaki shirt, tie and the Sam Browne belt; he’d strutted round the parade ground with his boot cleats ringing loudly and his campaign hat at just the right angle.

Mary-Louise had been properly impressed, according to his best friend, Tim Dixon, and so he’d stayed in uniform to drive her back home in the hills outside College Station. They’d made out in the back of his Chevy, but he had to be back for duty by 7pm, so he’d cut it short, and, following her directions, tried the short cut through the dry and dusty hills back to college. Now it was late afternoon; he was stuck, and he hadn’t bothered to tell Tim or the others where he was going. He kicked at the tire with his boot in exasperation.

“You need some help?” a voice helloed from behind him. Jack swung round; a man sat a tall horse on the nearby hill. “Got a problem with your car?” “Yes, sir, wrecked the transmission.” “Hold on,” and the man urged the stallion down the slope and trotted towards him. Jack watched him approach and dismount with a jingle of spurs.

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