Tag Archives: KinkMen

Story

The WORC Program – Part 16

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By Joshua Ryan

Back at the House, the atmosphere seemed to be changing.

Everybody noticed it  — things were different. Cicero was snapping at everyone, at least everyone whose existence he noticed. Sacky complained about “these constant ALTERATIONS in my menus” that were made by Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Thomasen. Marky complained about being rousted “in the middle of the night” — meaning his jerk-off time after dinner and Sacky’s kitchen wine — and having to drive Mr. H and Mr. T to the Parrot Lounge and wait in the car till they “came out with something or other,” a something that spent the night in their bed and was returned to obscurity the next morning, “after stinkin up my car.” Then it all stopped, as suddenly as it started. The Misters decided to try something else.

Late one afternoon, right before dinner, a new workie arrived in the back of a truck and was hauled out of its cage and led to the barracks. Its name was Jody, and it was a very cute young man, or had been before it got put in a workie suit. Clearly, it had done service in some other venue besides Hamilton Farms: there was fuzz on its head, and it still had eyebrows. But it had big brown eyes and a nice slender body. This was no field hand. Wherever it had been, it had been given easy treatment. To its body, anyway. The brain might be different. Its eyes were scared — very scared. Which is normal, when you’ve just been shipped somewhere in a cage. Cicero stood in the door of the barracks and told Nob to “take off its hair and move it up to the House. That’s where it’s gonna live.”

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 13

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By Joshua Ryan

Here’s the way the place was organized. Jerry had a big “staff.” At the top was this Meyers guy, Steven Meyers — MISTER Meyers, the “personal assistant.” He wasn’t a workie. Maybe he should have been, but he wasn’t. I saw him from a distance, and I knew he was a faggot. The kind of faggot I’d been. Only I guess he needed a job. He slept in the House.

Everybody else was a workie. There were three types of workie.

First: House Staff. They were the head servant, Cicero, and the cook, Sacky. Cicero lived in the House, up in the attic. Sacky lived in the barracks, but he kept whatever hours were needed to satisfy the owner. He was the way we got all those great leftovers, and things that weren’t leftovers.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 10

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By Joshua Ryan

So that’s the way it was, as — what do they say? — the days stretched into weeks and the weeks stretched into months. If this was a movie, there would be a calendar with the pages flipping past. No reason to stop at any of them. Every day was the same, except for Sundays.

They don’t make you work on Sunday. Somebody said “it’s because Old Man Williams needs a day off,” which made everybody laugh because nobody could figure out what he did on the other days of the week. Him and the jeans dudes. Who turned out to have names. “Ethan is the one that locks us up at night,” I was told, “and Chad is the one that lets us out in the morning.” There were a lot of jokes about whether Chad and Ethan were always packing guns because they never had anything else to shoot with. But everybody knew that they wouldn’t think twice about shooting one of us.

That first Sunday I just laid on my bunk, listening to my body trying to recover from every kind of pain, in every member except one, which I hadn’t used in so long that I couldn’t remember it. But the overwhelming pain was knowing that I was a workie. On the other Sundays I was given more education about what that meant.

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Story

Cum Quietly

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By Damian and slavebladeboi

“It’s funny isn’t it, what turns different people on. I’ve always been a bedroom and cellar guy. One half of me loves the sexy rubber restraint and slow erotic torture in a warm and comfortable surrounding the other half for the hard, gut churning, heartless “so you think you’re hard enough do you…?” where your heart misses a beat and your limits are there to be pushed. Neither is better or worse than the other, it’s bit like different courses at a meal.”

I looked at Greg as he sat on the floor, leaning back against the sofa wondering where all this was going.

“We’ve discussed this before though haven’t we?” Greg looked a bit puzzled, as we certainly had discussed this. We played together, in fact we did most things together, apart from living together which seemed to be something we didn’t discuss. Ever.

“I know, but it always fascinates me” I said, “You enjoy areas of kink I’d never even considered before we met yet we get on like lovers on their honeymoon when we’re together doing things for each other we know they go for.”

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Daily Thread

More bullies and victims

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In “Bullies & Victims, Volume 2,” now available as an eBook from Bob Wingate, Brad has beaten and humiliated Bobby’s cousin Tony in an attempt to turn him into his second slave. He has forced Bobby to participate, and even intimated to Tony that the whole thing was Bobby’s plan. There’s no question that Tony will seek revenge, or that he’ll bring along his own best buddy, a scary scrapper named Kyle, to carry it out. Everything comes to a head at a BDSM Christmas party to end all BDSM Christmas parties. Or seems to. Because things get much worse for Bobby after that.

eBook from Bob Wingate

Bullies & Victims, Volume 2 is available here

Bullies & Victims, Volume 1 available here

Note that these are Kindle Edition books, but you don’t have to have a Kindle to read them.

For more frequent updates from Bob Wingate, visit his website, Bobwingate.com.

AND, Bound & Gagged videos are available as bonus content at Kink.com

Bound & Gagged videos

Story

The Rules of the Game – Chapter 04

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By Jackson Amacher

Colton was a cross-country runner. Colton grew up in a small town in Alabama, where the only exercise facilities available to young boys were a football field and a couple of miles of unpaved roads, so Colton took to the roads. He liked running, and didn’t mind the flat stomach and lean body it gave him.

Colton liked guys. But Colton was raised to be modest. He’d see other guys running shirtless, but he wouldn’t do that himself. It was indecent, Colton was taught. Colton never let anyone see his body, not his chest and certainly not what he kept under his underwear. At the Academy some guys would walk back from the showers wearing towels; Colton would wear a bathrobe over t-shirt and underwear.

Now, Colton was forced to wear just a jock strap in front of most of his class. He could feel everyone’s eyes on his bare skin. He couldn’t stop thinking about how small and undeveloped his body looked, compared to these muscular, shredded guys.

Jock straps weren’t new to him. When Colton was twelve, he went running with a new pair of running shorts his mom had bought him, shorts that had a built-in liner so that you didn’t need to wear underwear. It felt uncomfortable; his dick was too free, like a third leg. A few people smiled when Colton ran past them like that. Colton’s dad saw what they were seeing, stopped Colton immediately, and sent him home. “You’re flopping,” his dad had said, and Colton didn’t know what he meant. But Colton’s mom bought him jock straps after that. And Colton would wear them, with his normal underwear over them, and then his shorts. It felt much better.

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Story

Copdar – The MP

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handcuffed by an MP

The MP

By Cuffsandcops

I have had a lot of good luck finding items that tickle my fetish fancy on social media marketplaces. In the Spring, I scored 3 pairs of handcuffs from an officer leaving the field from Delaware. A few weeks ago, I found a flat leather duty belt with a black buckle that belonged to an NYPD officer. After talking with him, I ended up buying a handcuff case, radio holster, glove pouch, flashlight holder, key case, and a hidden key clip. He even threw in a NYPD patch and one for his specific unit which was the Counterintelligence Bureau.

Police related gear is my primary fetish but I also have a liking for wristwatches. Earlier this summer I jumped in the pool with one of my favorite watches on my wrist. It hadn’t been properly sealed after a battery replacement and ended up looking like a fish tank. My jeweler did everything he could to salvage it, but the watch was ruined. I was on the hunt to replace my GShock Mudmaster GG-1000. I found one on marketplace that had a dead battery and was located about an hour away from me, right near the area’s military base.

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