Category Archives: Story

Story

The Bear Trap – Part 09

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 9: Work

“Only 3 more feet!” shouted the Captain just before he began swinging the pick again.  The slave did not look up but continued to shovel the dirt and rocks out of the trench he was buried in up to his knees.  The sweat ran down into his face and made it hard to see.  But when he did take moment to look up, he could see the Captain was right.

They had almost finished the trench, its end marked by a tiny yellow flag snapping in the warm breeze blowing down the length of the canyon.  The Captain had taken the lead on the digging, swinging the pick to break up the soil enough for the slave to shovel it out and carve the trench.  The only fortunate thing about the project is that it was almost done and that the day had not been hot.  The slave had been trying to focus on each shovel full of dirt, pushing himself to complete each toss, not looking up, should he lose focus and strength on another grueling day as the 24/7 labor muscle slave at the Bear Trap Ranch.

The Bear Trap storyArranged just beyond the tiny flag were 8 concrete piers that the Captain and slave had cast days earlier.

The Captain had decided to build a new truck shelter with a solar array on the roof.  That meant digging and casting foundation piers and digging a 200-foot long trench across the dry grass from the camp compound to the new structure.  What that meant for the slave was days and days of backbreaking work.  The soil of the Bear Trap Ranch had long since given up the last of its moisture to the summer heat and even now, in September, months since the slave had been collared on the ranch, the ground was more like rock than soil.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 08

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 8: Long and Slow

Sullie is a black-and-white Springer Spaniel that loves birds. He was barking and jumping on the wire fence and his short tail worked enthusiastically, his full attention on the covey of quail that were moving in the short, dry grass at the edge of the camp clearing. Sulllie barked again and then the other dog ran over to see what was happening, eager to join in any excitement that could be had in the evening shadows.

The quail pecked at seeds and ants in the golden grass and fluffed themselves in the dust dry soil, just along the fringe of dark scrub brush that lines both sides of the canyon where the camp was sheltered. The canyon faced north in a series of brushy ridges in the inland ranges of the Santa Lucia Mountains, a remote location where few ventured.

Late summer evenings, when the sun was setting and cool air flowed down every canyon, was a time when all of the wildlife would come out on the Bear Trap Ranch. A coyote padded down the road toward the gate and deer looked for some tasty green buds hidden among the spiny dry brush.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 07

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 7: Destiny

Ben idly scratched his thick beard as he turned over inside the cage, the midnight moon covering the garden and hills beyond the grid of bars with silver light.  He reflected on the last few hours.

The Captain had returned from a week away on a large fire that had been burning in the mountains to the west, a range that cut off the Bear Trap Ranch from the blanket of cool moist fog along the coast.

The Captain had drove into the canyon camp late in the day, just as the heat gave way to cool evening shadows, His huge pickup covered with red dust and ash.  He jumped out, and came through the gate, where the slave was kneeling, excited at his return.  He tousled Ben’s thick mane of brown hair before stripping down and taking a long cool shower under the big blue oak tree, with the slave kneeling between his legs.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 06

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 6: Punishment

The slave turned over on the floor, pulling the thick blanket close against the chill at the foot of the Captain’s bed. He was trying to get his sleep-addled brain around what was happening.

The Captain had jumped out of bed suddenly, quickly as a cat, and was now standing in the open door listening intently and scanning the midnight darkness of the Bear Trap Ranch. A silvery light outlined the edge of the canyon high above and was moving along slowly, dropping down toward the camp. A low engine rumble could barely be heard over the chorus of crickets and cicadas in the chill air. A truck was making its way along the road above. Intruder!

Even as the slave tried to rub the sleep from his bleary eyes, the Captain had already pulled on his dirty Carhartt pants, scuffed boots, and slipped a wrinkled tee over his head. His handgun was out and strapped to his leg in a quick movement. He slipped out of the door and through the camp gate, disappearing into the trees, his movements marked only by the flicker of his flashlight.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 05

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 5: The Workout

“Uggh! Uhhh uh uuhhh…” the slave panted, trying to catch his breath around the rubber ball gag gripped in his teeth. His lips pulled back and his jaw opened in a desperate attempt to draw in air, drool gushing out in thick ropes that dripped down his chest and abs onto his cock finally exposed after three days of confinement.

His muscled arms had been pulled back and stretched over a bar against his back and chained to the spreader bar shackled to the slave’s ankles. The slave’s balls were chained to an eyebolt in the ground, causing his nuts to be stretched and tugged with each new punch during the Captain’s workout. The slave’s head snapped back from the flurry of jabs directed at his punished bruised abs again. He growled deeply into the gag and more spit flew.

The bar behind the slave’s back was just high enough to keep the slave’s sweat and dirt streaked body stretched out and open to the Captain’s human punching bag workout. The first morning rays of the sun broke over the distant hills and reddened the scene on the bare hilltop. The Captain had rigged the bars and chains among the bare framing of the new compound He was creating.

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Story

Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 08

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By felon

LATER THAT NIGHT:

So far the entire event has been very confusing/intimidating and charged — all at the same time. So now I am locked in a cell in a barn on a non-working farm in West Virginia. I can hear trucks coming and going, the smell of a campfire, the sound of men laughing, the pop of bear cans, and the barking of dogs.

Occasionally I hear the dragging of chains, the pop of a semiautomatic, and the crack of a whip. The barn is dark — lit by one lousy bulb, creating shadows dark and deep. The door opens and one of the men that “booked” me and handled my POA walks into the room — now in knee boots and green camos.

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 04

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 4: The Cadre

In the dry hills of California, water is the factor that determines success or failure.

In June, the last wildflowers have gone to seed and the grass in the meadows is gold, dry and brittle. The brush begins to take on a grey tint, and even the huge oaks drop leaves under the hot sun to preserve their lives through the six months without rain. The valley beyond the Bear Trap Ranch begins to resemble a parched African savannah, and one might almost glimpse zebras and elephants milling in the midday heat ripples rising from the valley floor.

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Story

Bringing Pig-Dog to Heel

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By Officer Doppels

When you are around and about the prisoners, you come to appreciate all the little things that are not that readily apparent on the first meeting. While there is much that you may hear, see and understand, there are also those things that come through smell, and touch, and nuance – both gentle and no so gentle. The prisoners are in your control and under your custody. And while that may seem like a black and white issue, a clear line between being controlled and not, it is a process of slowing making the prisoner fully understand, accept and become resigned to the fact that he is a prisoner, and nothing more.

I recently did a few days of helping out at the Hampton Jail. It was a very satisfying experience. On this visit, with my first encounters of the inmates I eyed one of the prisoners that I wanted to control, to torment and to force him to yield. I gave him a nickname, Pig-Dog. I walked into the cellblock and barked out “Noses and Toeses!” which is the standard command to assume a position eyes away from the officers against the opposite wall with feet flush to the wall, faces to the wall, and hands clasped with fingers interlocked behind their heads. I yelled it out, and it startled a few of the inmates. One of the other inmates I would later learn confided that it was an “Oh Holy Shit” moment for him.

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