Tag Archives: Johnny Utah

Florida Trap – Part 09

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

The owners of the ranch sent me a letter. In 90 days, they planned to sell the ranch. They were asking me to do some upgrades and offered me almost double my pay for my work in looking after the horses and keeping the barns in shape. I accepted. What else did I have to do?

For the couple of weeks all I did was work.  The owners came by to see me with some new plans for some upgrades. It meant a lot of digging. They were supposed to have a contactor show up with an excavator, but he never showed So I used a shovel and wheelbarrow. I got up and took care of the horses. I sweated out in the sun all day, went home, ate, went to sleep, and got up the next morning to repeat it.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 09

Florida Trap – Part 08

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I got in my trailer. I dropped the boxes with the butt plugs and leg irons from Sgt. Stiles on the kitchen table. I got out of my boots, dropped my shorts, and yanked off my shirt. I picked up the leg irons. I could do put them on no problem. The butt plug was another thing. I decided to try, after all Sgt. Stiles had given it for me to try. I went into the bathroom. I did have some KY gel. I got into my bedroom and hit the bed. All I had on was my socks and my collar. I locked the leg irons on. I admit they felt good. It brought back so many good memories. The restraint of the chain was reassuringly safe.

I had second thoughts about the butt plug but then decided to go ahead. I lubed up the plug. I used a finger to put some lube on the outside of my asshole. I laid back, tried to relax and slowly inserted the plug into my hole. It took a little pressure to get it in my hole, but it went in up to the base easily enough. I switched my concentration to the letter.  I opened the letter carefully, so I didn’t rip the outside of the envelope with the address on it.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 08

Florida Trap – Part 07

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I was working hard at the ranch. My routine was set. Get up, coffee, do the three S’s, and then off to the stables. It was about half a mile to the stables from my mobile home. My boots crunched the gravel on the track to the stables. It was a good walk and got my mind cleared to concentrate on work.

As I’d get close to the stables I’d be sucked in by the warm smells of hay, horse, and the Florida woods. First thing to do was feed and water the horses, get them into whatever corral or field they need to be in.  I’d toss dozens of haybales into the hayloft, dig fence post holes, lug wood around, dig ditches, and as ever — shovel shit into the trailer and then shovel it out at the manure pile.

There were always little extras that were enjoyable. I liked brushing the horses. I’d talk to them to make sure they were calm. They always listened. Each horse had its own personality.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 07

Florida Trap – Part 06

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I drove like a little old lady back towards Jacksonville. The speed people were going was really fucking crazy.  I got to my hotel by a combination of memory and luck. It wasn’t too far from the highway so I could see it before I had to turn off. I pulled into the parking lot.

On the passenger seat was a printout of my reservation. I guess Sgt. Stiles had made it for me. I wondered what he was doing right now.

I parked and went to check in. One thing hit me right away. It was hard to walk. I was taking short steps waiting for the chain on my leg irons to stop me. I had to stop. I took a deep breath and tried to walk like a free man. It was hard to do.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 06

Florida Trap – Part 05

By Johnny Utah

(Reposted with revised ending)

I shuffled into the Receiving Building.  I was the largest building I had been in in weeks, and it stank of industrial disinfectant. I thought I’d have to stop and do something like fingerprints and a mugshot, but then it hit me I already had a prison ID card. I had a record here.

I had no idea why I was taken from fields into Prison. Everything was going ok since we got back to the work camp. Going to pick sweet potatoes wasn’t that bad, now I was facing something else. Something unknown.

In processing area Sergeant Stiles was waiting for me.

“Prisoner Utah, J. 35374 you are going to be processed for entry in the Special Housing Unit, disciplinary segregation section,” he announced.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 05

Florida Trap – Part 04

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I don’t know how long I was sitting there. My arms were really stiff, cuffed behind my back. My butt sore and cold from sitting in the dirt. Was Foreman Brodie just going to leave me here? I was miserable with my piss-soaked head and my hard on.

Eventually out of the dark I saw Johnson. He was in his boxers and boots. He wasn’t wearing leg irons; for some reason that made me scared. What happened?

He came up to me. “Looks like you’re in quite a state,” he said. “Yes, Tent Boss,” I dejectedly replied.

“I got the keys. Hold still.” Johnson unlocked the chain to my collar and then my handcuffs. “Hold on let me get the leg irons too.” I stayed sitting down.

“What about the collar?” I asked.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 04

Florida Trap – Part 03

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

Sgt Stiles drove me off into the Florida Panhandle pine forests. I don’t know if we drove for five minutes or fifty. I must have nodded off a few times. Sgt Stiles didn’t say a word to me. I guess I was either too tired from working all day or I was unconsciously following his advice to keep my mouth shut. I was stuck, handcuffed in the back of the van. From time to time I’d get distracted by the back of Sgt. Stiles head. His high and tight haircut was so hot, so masculine.

We got to the camp as it was just starting to get dark. Not much to see. A clearing in the forest out in the middle of nowhere. The camp was eight canvas tents, and some plywood shacks surrounded by rows of that rolls of barbed wire. The kind you see on the top of fences at prisons. There were a few poles with lights and one gate.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 03