Tag Archives: handcuffs

A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 04

By Hunter Perez

The rock quarry duties would last until mid-afternoon, at which point we would be brought back to our cells. Zeb would crash into a deep, tumult-free sleep, and I would be able to get some placid snoozing in – unlike the nights with Zeb’s snoring and thrashing keeping me up. One afternoon, shortly after we fell asleep, there was tapping at the cell door – it was Private Charleson, informing me that Holmgren wanted to see me in his office. I reluctantly got out of bed and walked out of the cell into the corridor, turning my back to Charleson and putting my hands behind my back. Charleson locked the cell and was about 15 paces down when he realized I was still standing at the cell door.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he walked back.

“I thought I was going to be handcuffed,” I said, still groggy from being awakened. “Whenever Sergeant Patterson would take me to see the lieutenant, he would always handcuff me.”

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 04

A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 01

By Hunter Perez

NOTE: This is a sequel! To read the first series, click here

So, how is life mistreating me? Funny that I should ask. Since we last connected, there has been bad news and sort of bad news.

The bad news is that the warden fell in love with Holmgren’s idea of getting the local saloon keeper to pay for his son Zeb’s education while he was incarcerated. As you may recall, Zeb is illiterate, and his dad wants him to take over the saloon business – which is a tad difficult when you can’t read the liquor bottle labels. According to Holmgren, the warden thought the idea was so brilliant that he insisted on a 70 percent to 30 percent split of the “tuition” – the warden, of course, taking the bigger cut. With this scheme, the plan to have my sentence commuted was put on the proverbial back burner – although I fear it will bypass the back burner and go straight into the trash can if the saloon keeper agrees to it.

The sort of bad news was the delay in getting the saloon keeper’s approval – he was called out of town for at least two weeks, thus delaying the finality of whether I would be trapped in prison (if he approved) or set free (if he disapproved). Without a firm answer, I was stuck in limbo – or, to be more precise, the spruced-up solitary confinement cell that was supposed to be a temporary residence on my road to liberty.

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque Continued – Part 01

Nate – Part 01

By slavebladeboi

With thanks to POW for his editing skills and the many suggestions that inspired this story.

Nate made sure the door of his bedroom was locked before he stood naked, facing the window. There was no one else home, but it made him feel safe both mentally and physically. The windowsill was level with his hips, and the slats of the blind were at an angle that allowed him to see out without being seen. It was a position he’d taken up several times when he noticed that the new neighbour was out and about, either tending to the front garden of his house, directly opposite the house Nate shared with two other college guys, or washing his car or all the other small jobs that needed taking care of when the weather was warm and the sun out.

This time the neighbour, a guy who was obviously in his thirties and looked to be in perfect shape to 20-year-old Nate, well-built and wearing only some skimpy shorts, was washing his car on the drive. It was a 1970 Corvette Stingray, deep blue and perfect. Any reasonable young male, in fact any man of any age, would have made some excuse to stop by and compliment the guy on his choice of vehicle, but Nate wasn’t so forthright. He preferred to stay hidden and watch from a distance. Another reason for his reluctance to make an appearance was that locked around his right wrist was one half of a handcuff, the other half locked tightly round his cock and balls, thus leaving his left hand free to play with his nips as he wanked furiously, gazing at the bronzed body sweating in the heat of the afternoon sun, wiping the odd spray of soap suds and water off his body.

Continue reading Nate – Part 01

Can Dreams Come True? Part 2

By Shket36

With English-language editing by Joshua Ryan

To say that I was worried would be an understatement, but again Nikolai found words to calm me down.  Then, after I shaved my face and head, he told me to dress up in my prison clothes.  For the first time, I had to put on a convict uniform with a badge — a badge with my photograph and convict number, but not my first name or my last.  From then on I would be a number.  When I had buttoned myself into my uniform and put my badge in place, Nikolai turned me to face the wall and ordered me to present my hands so he could put the guard cuffs on me.  These bracelets have a rigid hinge that prevents the prisoner from twisting his hands to find a more comfortable position.

Once my restraints were attached, Nikolai took me by the left arm near the shoulder, led me to the official car for escorting detainees, and put me in a special compartment–simply put, a cage, where I had to ride with my hands securely cuffed for several hours.  We were headed to the train station.

Continue reading Can Dreams Come True? Part 2

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 17

By Hunter Perez

(The final chapter to the story)

It was dark by the time Patterson came scurrying across the courtyard with a bright lantern in one hand and an oversized ring packed with keys in the other. He was huffing and puffing in tremendous movements and paused for a minute at the base of the pillory to catch his breath. I feared he would collapse before ending my imprisonment, but he caught his second wind and quickly freed me. He asked about my physical well-being before handing me a small silver flask which he said contained brandy.

“Strictly for medicinal purposes, of course,” he added. “You never catch a cold with brandy.”

Patterson was apologetic that he did not arrive earlier, explaining that an emergency arose within the prison that required all on-duty guards. In our walk back to the cottage, Patterson provided an excruciatingly in-depth recollection of the emergency, giving violently graphic details to the bloodied injuries that several brawling prisoners inflicted on each other. By the time we reached the fence outside of the cottage, Patterson exhausted his gory story and paused for healthy sip of his “medicinal” brandy with the assurance that it helps rebuild strength and courage.

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 17

A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 14

By Hunter Perez

Holmgren slowly lifted the glass from the desk and vigorously sipped its whiskey content, keeping his foul gaze at me while he consumed the drink. I stood at door and tried to consider how I would respond to this new predicament.

I assumed I would be facing an evening’s worth of abuse – certainly verbal and probably physical. Having my wrists tightly handcuffed behind my back offered a painful reminder of who was the alpha in this encounter. If Holmgren was drunk or on the verge of inebriation, then I didn’t know what to expect – he was erratic while sober, and whiskey would certainly make a crazy situation worse. Patterson’s behavior outside of the room only preyed on my apprehension – how many other prisoners came before me to experience Holmgren’s whiskey-soaked wrath?

Continue reading A Left Turn at Albuquerque – Part 14