After the weekend when Jax and his drone had appeared unexpectedly at the camp, grunt’s life had passed back into routine. The young blond muscle jock had departed after grunt’s punishment whipping and there had been no other visitors.
Days passed quietly, waking at dawn as cool pine-scented air filtered down through the forest. Preparing the Captain’s gear and food for the day, opening the gate when he drove off to a chorus of barking dogs, turning to the list of chores left behind. Each item was assigned a time limit, and grunt’s day was dictated by the clock and by the shifting patches of shade he took advantage of to leaven the heat of the summer sun.
Each evening the Captain would return in a rumble of truck tires on the steep dirt road. The dog pack would stir and begin to bark and howl, jumping around eager for attention. The slave would already be waiting at the gate, and it would swing away at the precise moment the truck turned into sight. Then grunt would stand momentarily at attention, head bowed as the bearded master opened the driver door. Often he would briefly acknowledge the slave and indicate items such as fresh food to be fetched out.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 4
Jax snored softly in a hammock hanging in the warm night air, totally exhausted and a bit sore, his tan football player body marked with bruises and red marks. But he slept deeply and easily after being totally drained from his intense experience. Not so much for grunt.
The collared slave was the owned property of the Captain, and as such grunt’s every action was controlled by him. The slave could hear Jax above him sleeping, but his own night was sleepless and uncomfortable.
The cage sitting under the trees wasn’t long enough even for a short stout person like grunt to lay in fully outstretched, so the slave was huddled on his side, bunching up one blanket to rest his head on while the other blanket barely covered his naked body from the cool air dropping down through the forest as the night wore on.
The slave’s mind kept going back to the situation that landed it in the cage as punishment.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 3
Jackson couldn’t help himself. The blond college footballer could feel his cock pressing against the silver furry belly of the hunky bearish sheriff deputy bound in front of him. He knew each move he made was being felt at multiple points on the officer’s body, but his cock was raging to cum!
Jax pumped his crotch slowly against the older man’s belly and could hear the other man moan since each move either made was felt where their balls and nips were locked together. As Jax flexed his abs, the clamps on his nips also pulled on the officers huge thick pecs. If Jax stretched out to relieve pressure his own pecs, the chain between each man’s nuts tightened.
But the flexing and pain only drove Jax more crazy, along with the moans coming from behind the gag of the bound deputy.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 2
Jackson rolled over on the roof of the party boat. All the frats and girls around him were still snoozing after another night of summer partying on the lake even though the sun was well up and already hot. He stretched his muscles, tousled his mop of blond hair and threw aside his sleeping bag to reveal his muscled, football-player build clothed in a light cover of golden hair. He tucked his morning hard-on under the waistband of his board shorts. His hand brushed his own beefy pecs briefly as he looked around until he spotted the drone stuck in the brush just above the shoreline where the boat was moored.
Shasta Lake is a popular destination for vacationers and college students in rented houseboats. The boats congregate in the steep-sided flooded canyons that make up the vast reservoir in the forested foothills. Each arm of the lake is named for the source that pours water into the vast and complex reservoir: Pit River Arm, Sacramento Arm, Jones Valley Arm, Salt Creek Inlet.
This party boat was moored deep into the Salt Creek Inlet which was close enough to nearby campgrounds and stores to keep the college group easily supplied with beer and snacks the whole weekend.
Continue reading The Drone – Part 1
One hand darted across the keyboard, tapping out orders as fast as the fingers could find the buttons. The slave waited for the instructions to appear on the screen but already knew what was to happen. Some of the items were already jumbled on the floor around the base of the chair.
The typing stopped, the Master was breathing heavily, staring at the slave.
Justin got down on his knees and began rummaging through the items on the floor, and then opened a box next to the chair. Inside were many black leather restraints. Justin glanced up at the tablet to make sure he was pulling the right items. He strapped the wrist restraints on, the leather collar around his neck with the slave dog tags. He pulled out a leather ball stretcher strap and sat back in front of the Master’s chair spreading his legs. The Master’s fingers tapped at the keyboard:
“Punch your balls.”
Continue reading Master in the Chair
By Miles Pierce
The backpacking trip had ended in disaster.
It was meant to be a reset. He had just left his job and broke up with his girlfriend and the two weeks he planned in and around the Lassen Volcanic Park were meant to be the beginning of a fresh, new phase in his life. Jake had planned his route and food meticulously and looked forward to this solitary trek.
Continue reading The Bear Encounter: A story inspired by The Bear Trap
I wanted to share some of the photos taken of the muscle slave over the weekend when it was out serving as a labor slave on the ranch. The slave was kept locked in a custom metal collar with locking screw and locking leg shackles. The slave’s muscled arms proved too thick for our own locking wrist restraints, so we had to use an alternative set locked with padlocks. After several days working on the ranch, totally naked with the heavy collar, the slave’s neck was very bruised and raw. The slave endured the entire scenario while being beaten with a switch while it was put to work digging out stumps in the rock hard soil of the ranch.
The slave wore the restraints the entire time, even when sleeping, and his salty sweat actually made the metal get rusty in places.
I am sure you and your readers will enjoy the photos.
DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company
UPDATE: The shackles were custom made by BootsNCamo from Recon if readers are looking to order a set.
If you are a well-built muscle slave, you can learn more about DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company by looking up FirefighterSIR on Recon.
If you travel over the rough Santa Lucia Mountains, past towering Cone Peak, and away from the white water Big Sur coast, you come to set of broad oak studded valleys and chaparral covered ridges descending eastward toward the Salinas Valley. The Bear Trap is named for a box canyon among the ridges where oaks stud the grassy north facing slopes and brush and ghostly grey pines the sunburn south faces. Long ago, Mexican vaqueros would lure grizzly bears into the steep sided “trap” with live bait, such as a steer, to be roped and killed.
Continue reading The Bear Trap – Parts 1 to 3