Tag Archives: Active Duty

Improving My Posture – Part 2

By Mister-X/Spartan

At work Monday morning I was obviously forced into stiff, erect posture. The problem was sitting on that butt plug, something I’d never done before. It was quite uncomfortable, and was initially distracting me from concentrating on my work. As I was thinking about the butt plug, I started thinking back on everything that happened that previous 4-day weekend.

I had never experienced anything like that before in my life. I certainly got quickly acquainted with a side of life I’d never seen before, let alone experienced. And to be truthful, I kind of enjoyed some of it. Or at least, my cock did, or would have if it could have been able to. The thought of that brought up another problem I was having, sitting here at my desk. It was difficult to find a comfortable way to sit with that metal chastity on my cock.

I’m sure that my appearance is much better than it had been, but I wondered whether my bosses were comfortable knowing that it came at the expense of my getting as much work done. Judging by how they enjoyed this past four days, I expect that they are comfortable with that. I noticed that my boss seemed wryly amused to see how uncomfortable I was wearing my new shirt, knowing that I had that butt plug and chastity on underneath. But I had to get my mind off the changes I was now experiencing and get it back on my work. If my work output declines significantly, I could still find myself without a job.

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Summer at the Ranch – Part 2

By Rubrpig

The day that Cimarron first worked in tandem with its mare passed quickly and both horses got used to working in tandem pulling the heavy wagon. During the break for lunch for the hands, the horses were given water and vegetables and allowed to stand and rest in the shade to keep them cool. The ranch hands followed Steve’s instructions to keep their hides coated with sun block to keep the horses from getting sun burned which would have restricted their use until they healed.   Cimarron kept looking at his mare harnessed beside it in the shafts of the wagon. It noticed that the mare’s mane was long and had been properly clipped and groomed into a flowing mane.

The sides of its head had been clipped and a 3 inch wide strip of its hair had been encourage to grow and it hung down its back. The mare turned its head and looked at Cimarron and nodded its head.   Cimarron looked closely at its mare and saw that there was a heavy leather cup covering the mare’s groin so it did not show any human male genitals. Cimarron wondered if the mare had been allowed to keep its male cock or had it been removed as it has been threatened with if it failed to perform as a stallion. The mare nodded and stamped its hoof three times and Cimarron wondered if that meant it had been a mare for 3 years and decided that it most likely was considering the heavy muscular build and the length of its mane.

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The Convict – Part 13

By Joshua Ryan

It was a strange-looking room. What you saw was a line of long metal benches, the kind of benches that are big enough for a guy to lie down on and spread out his arms above his head. The benches were lined up parallel, every few feet. And you could tell that guys were supposed to lie down on them, because they had cuffs and shackles at all four corners.

At the head of every bench was a table, with some metal instruments arranged on it.

The panic was rising again, but I didn’t have time to panic. “Go to the drain, boy,” the officer said. He was pointing to the wall across from the line of benches.

I went to the wall. At the bottom I saw a thing in the floor like a gutter, or a big pipe with the top cut off of it. “I want to see you piss, boy. Do it now. And make sure you squirt it all out. We don’t want any accidents later on.”

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Florida has a funny way of taking things the rest of world enjoys and making them trashier.  Outside of the state’s biggest cities and most expensive zip codes, this state has all the refinement of a Jerry Springer episode, and the gay culture is no exception.  One area where the trashy factor really shines through is in the run down mid-century motels turned into gay resorts.  They litter the state and all have a similar feel: sparsely furnished rooms, poolside bars, and lush landscaping to keep activities somewhat private.  One of these resorts on the west coast is pretty big and has some well attended themed weekends, so naturally I checked in for their annual leather weekend.  I left my sometimes uptight professional demeanor at home, submitted to the fact that it would not be a weekend at the Four Seasons, and packed for what I hoped would be Florida’s version of IML.

I set my work aside early on Friday afternoon and headed across the state to the resort.  It was exactly what I had expected from the online photos, perhaps even a bit cleaner and more updated.  There were two long two-story buildings with second floor open walkways flanking the pool.  The former hotel lobby and restaurant had been converted to bars, one with a little dance floor.  The décor was part kitschy mid-century modern, part whatever the owners could find on the cheap.  The place reeked of bleach, which I took as a good sign.

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