See the VIDEO at MeninChains.com
Title of this video: Arresting the Clown
Tag Archives: arrested
The Mirror Wore Blue
Having been seized and stripped in the street, accused criminal Karl now stands fully naked in an alleyway. PC Will takes advantage of his position to bend this thug over and slide his fingers deep inside the sexy young captive’s arse. More than getting off sexually using this perp, Will is on a power high being able to do whatever he wants with Karl’s body in public….
See the VIDEO at CMNM
Title of this video: The Mirror Wore Blue
Handcuffed by a Dirty Cop
Inmate Lukas Tyler
Read the true-life story behind these images here.
Also visit Lukas Tyler at noescapedungeon.com and on Twitter/X
Intake – Part 02
Written by Lukas Tyler
Try as I might, all I could possibly see outside was mown grass. One by one, the doors to the cells opened. The guys in green pushed a gentleman’s head down. They kept us from hitting our heads as we shuffled, hunched, out of the cage. Thank you. The familiar face left. I wouldn’t see it again for hours. But my sense of time was gone. I had no watch. I had no phone. They were in my luggage, which was labeled “Lukas” on blue painters tape, in a clear plastic bag labeled “Lukas” on blue painters tape. Every rule I had seen, every request thus far, I had followed to the letter. I didn’t want to be a target. I needed to be good.
“Next!” some guy in green shouted.
It was my turn. I shuffled forward, clanking chains against the metal cage.
“Step!” Some guy in green shouted. He pushed my head down.
“Thank you,” I thought. “Thank you, Sir,” I should have thought. The sun was bright in my eyes. I hadn’t been in the cage that long, but my eyes disagreed. More guys in green stood outside the back of the van. Four? Maybe. My mind was racing. The moment I stepped out men started shouting. I turned right. In front of me a gang of guys in white were shouting wild things. I couldn’t make out anything specific, but I really didn’t want to. It seemed like a group of hardened prisoners. Fuck. Now I have to deal with them too, in addition to the guys in green.
A Case of Mistaken Identity
By Arrest22
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
It was about noon on a Friday. I work overnights, so I was just beginning my weekend. I was flying down the highway on 680. I was wearing dark blue jeans, my Friday staple, a midnight blue polo, and birkenstocks. I changed into my sandals after hitting the gym at work.
Sometimes when the music hits, you lose track of time. In my case, I also lost track of my speedometer.
I saw the blue lights in my rearview before I heard them.
“FUCK!” I exclaimed loudly to no one.
I found a safe place to pull over. Doing so was not the easiest task as it was lunch hour on a Friday. I could hear the cop car telling me to pull over from their loud speaker. It was annoying because that’s exactly what I was trying to do.
Video: Give the Officer a Nice Rub
Officer Dior is used to dealing with sneaky men brats like Caden. He caught the perp shoplifting some lotion and took him back to his office to let him know who was in charge there. It doesn’t matter if Alan plays it cool and tries to pretend nothing happened, Officer Caden will give the suspect a reason to come clean and confess. First, Caden pats the prisoner down, noticing that the whole situation is actually arousing him. Then, when he finally finds the stolen merchandise concealed in his underwear, Alan tries to convince him that he is actually a masseur and stole the lotion for work.
Series: Young Perps
Title: Give the Officer a Nice Rub
Main Site: Say Uncle
Double Trouble – Part 01
By Peter B. and Art Intelli
Chapter One: Trespass
The Texas sun was a cruel, unblinking eye in the sky, scorching the blacktop and everything around it. Peter wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and habitually ran his fingers through his long blond hair like a comb. He cursed under his breath. His rental car—a cheap sedan that had looked dependable enough back in Austin—now sat silent and steaming on the side of the road, its hood up like a white flag of surrender. The nearest sign of civilization had been a lonely gas station fifty miles back. He hadn’t seen another car in hours.
With no cell service, no breeze, and no luck, Peter shouldered his backpack and headed east across the dusty plains, hoping to find a ranch, a house, a human being—anything. The ground was cracked and dry, dotted with stubborn tufts of grass and the occasional mesquite tree. He passed a wire fence that looked like it hadn’t been repaired since the Reagan administration. He didn’t notice the sun-bleached sign nailed to one of the posts: