Category Archives: Story

Story

The WORC Program – Part 13

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By Joshua Ryan

Here’s the way the place was organized. Jerry had a big “staff.” At the top was this Meyers guy, Steven Meyers — MISTER Meyers, the “personal assistant.” He wasn’t a workie. Maybe he should have been, but he wasn’t. I saw him from a distance, and I knew he was a faggot. The kind of faggot I’d been. Only I guess he needed a job. He slept in the House.

Everybody else was a workie. There were three types of workie.

First: House Staff. They were the head servant, Cicero, and the cook, Sacky. Cicero lived in the House, up in the attic. Sacky lived in the barracks, but he kept whatever hours were needed to satisfy the owner. He was the way we got all those great leftovers, and things that weren’t leftovers.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 12

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By Joshua Ryan

Boss Web put a leash on my collar and led me to the office. Mr. Williams was waiting outside, and so was a truck with a cage on it.

Boss said, “This is the workie they want at the House, right? Name is Butch.”

“Right. Butch,” Mr. Williams said. “Ethan will take him up.”

Boss walked away. I stowed my gear in the back of the truck and scrambled into the cage, still wearing the leash. Ethan locked me inside. Fifteen minutes after all this started, I was saying goodbye to the world of coffles.

I guess it was about a mile to the House on the dirt farm road. I was craning my neck, trying to see ahead, especially when the truck went around a curve. I wished I’d taken some of Jerry’s invitations to see the House, back when I was free. But I never wanted to spend any time with Jerry. Maybe if I’d been a little nicer to him … Before we got to the House we had to get through a concrete wall with a steel fence on top, and rolls of razor wire on top of that. OK, that’s the way it was, all around the Farms. Everything was secured. But then we were through the gate, and there it was, rising above a grove of trees — an elegant colonial house with red brick walls and white columns and white window frames and four huge chimneys. Yes! That’s it! That’s the House!

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 11

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By Joshua Ryan

What kind of lover did he make? What kind of lover did I make? What do I know? I’m just a stupid workie. We were a thousand times better than Mike and me — how’s that for an evaluation? Because Ace was totally solid. Whatever we were doing, he was totally there. He never talked; he just did it. If I shied away from him, he did something else. Then he came back. He also had a way of waiting for me to do something, then going all in on it himself. If we were doing something, we had to do it together. He had to do it, and I had to do it. That was his idea. So we did.

I always knew what was going on in the barracks. I knew there was sex. Everybody knew. There had to be. But I didn’t hear any talk — any except jokes about what’s always “gonna” happen, where everybody accuses everybody of everything. But when I got up to take a piss at night, I always noticed there was a bunk that wasn’t filled, and another bunk that looked heavier than normal. I didn’t go looking for evidence, but Boss Web’s rack was always way heavy, and everybody knew it was Chico, the little Mex dude. I would’ve liked to fuck him myself.

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Story

Robbed and Humiliated

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By SockgaggedJason

SockgaggedJason story gay demonIt’s past two o’clock in the morning in a quiet upscale neighborhood. Two disguised men have crossed a lawn belonging to one of the larger homes at the end of the street’s cul-de-sac. Using a suction cup and glass cutter, they break into one of the side windows of the darkened house.

They look like classic burglars. Dressed in blue jeans and long sleeve shirts, they’re wearing latex gloves with black neoprene ski masks disguising their faces. One is tall and broad shouldered. The other is average height and slim. Both of them are wearing light backpacks.

The thieves make their way through the rooms with flashlights, assuming no one is home. They’d be casing out this house. When they reach the living room, however, they notice evidence to the contrary. The TV is still on with a PlayStation console connected to it and the game menu on the screen. The fresh smell of pizza and weed is in the air as they notice a pizza box on the coffee table next to a bong.

They’re not alone after all. But they’re prepared for such contingencies as they remove duct tape and several plastic zip tie cables from their backpacks.

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Story

It’s Not Over Till I Say So – Part 02

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By slavebladeboi

“FUCK YOU!”

“Probably” I said looking at his angry face.

“Just Fuck!”

I continued to look at him, red faced and pacing the room.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Greg thumped the table with a tight fist, sat down and then slumped forward with his head in his hands.

“I was thinking of the weeks living with you whining and pleading about wanting a no safe word scene.”

“I could have died in that bloody cellar. You….”

“Oh stop being so dramatic Greg. Of course you couldn’t have died in there. I spent over 9 hours watching you bitch and moan. Do you really think I didn’t know what was happening to you?”

“You’re a bloody sadist”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 10

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By Joshua Ryan

So that’s the way it was, as — what do they say? — the days stretched into weeks and the weeks stretched into months. If this was a movie, there would be a calendar with the pages flipping past. No reason to stop at any of them. Every day was the same, except for Sundays.

They don’t make you work on Sunday. Somebody said “it’s because Old Man Williams needs a day off,” which made everybody laugh because nobody could figure out what he did on the other days of the week. Him and the jeans dudes. Who turned out to have names. “Ethan is the one that locks us up at night,” I was told, “and Chad is the one that lets us out in the morning.” There were a lot of jokes about whether Chad and Ethan were always packing guns because they never had anything else to shoot with. But everybody knew that they wouldn’t think twice about shooting one of us.

That first Sunday I just laid on my bunk, listening to my body trying to recover from every kind of pain, in every member except one, which I hadn’t used in so long that I couldn’t remember it. But the overwhelming pain was knowing that I was a workie. On the other Sundays I was given more education about what that meant.

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Story

Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 03

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By felon

It was a normal work week, work all day, hide at my apartment all night. I made sure I wrote my journal entries, posted my pics on a daily basis. However one busy day (Wednesday) I forgot and left the charger for the ankle device at home. I realized that by about 4 pm when I usually sat down at my desk and plugged the charger in for a fresh charge. It was a good spot to sit as no one would see where the charger cord led to.

When you fail to charge the device it sends a signal to the captor with a low battery alert. Then i get a message on my cell phone — WTF charge your battery!!!!!

I was plenty pissed and also terrified at the same time. I left work a few minutes early-jumped in the car and sped home-not paying any attention to speed limits. I get home, rush to my apartment and plug myself in, had to sit there for over 2 hours for a full charge. Late that night I go to bed around 1130 pm. I live in a large 100-year-old apartment building with big windows facing the street. I am on an upper floor (6) on what is a quiet city street at night. I am laying in bed, watching the ankle device blink (as I do every night).

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 09

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By Joshua Ryan

The Haute Cuisine de Paris Select Tour … Mike had finally agreed to book it … I was lingering on a foggy street on the Ile Saint-Louis … Then from somewhere — some seventeenth century house? Some charming local church? — a bell was clanging. “Cmon,” Mack said. “Ain’t got all day.” He was already on his way to the shit holes, where a line had formed — a line of identical packages of rocklike muscles dressed in identical boxers and tees. A dream, and a nightmare.

I was one of the last to get to the holes, so I was glad I’d shat my guts out the night before, and all I needed to do was piss. I didn’t bother to line up for the sink. I went back to my bunk and started turning myself into the image of Mack, who had already dressed.

I can’t say they didn’t give us enough time. It was all hurry up and wait for our turn at the Chow Hall. While waiting, the workies shot the shit with each other, paying no attention to me. They weren’t interested anymore. I wasn’t new. I just stood by my bunk until Boss Web yelled, “Awright, make your line!” and we all marched off to the chow palace. Bill of fare: egg and cheese on bun, grits on the side. Hearty food! What you’d get in a fast food place, if the place was about to be closed by the health inspectors. Also a cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar, but the first coffee I’d had since I signed those papers. By the time I got through with it, I was so high that Ace came up beside me and said, “Coffee. It happened to me too. My first day. Watch your step. I don’t want you havin any accidents.”

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