Tag Archives: KinkMen

Story

One Year – Part 12

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By Taurus

Part 12 – “More”

James enjoyed his life tenfold more with Russell at the reins. He was much more present and affectionate as a handler.

His morning on the sand track pulling his cart was essentially made a play session, as Russell would sometimes sing cowboy tunes as he walked around. He spent a few days getting used to it before he stopped laughing his ass off through his bit gag.

Submissive training became more varied. Cocksucking was done regularly still, but for every two days of it, there was a day with training for something else. Currently, James had the pleasure of being trained to take nipple clamps, a hogtie position, and finally, a dildo.

Finally, something in the ass.

No official pleasure sessions though, but that was good enough for his sanity already; it should tide him over a few weeks.

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Story

Matt on Display – Part 1

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By Steellock

Note: This is a follow-up to The Edge series by Steellock, which concluded with “Matt the Demo Boy.” To read the previous chapters by Steellock, click here.

Matt woke early that Friday morning. As Jess was strapping him to his bed the previous night Jim had wandered over and said, enigmatically, ‘Get a good rest Boi, a long and tough weekend ahead of you!’

Matt had therefore spent the night half sleeping and half in wet anticipation of what was coming up. Jim never disappointed – if he said it was going to be tough, then tough it would most definitely be! He also thought about his diet – Jim had put him on a liquid only feeding regime a couple of days ago; always the preparation for a long bondage session and Matt had been wondering ‘when and what’ for a while.

Hooded as he was he couldn’t see the red display lighting go off, but he felt the bed pull back from the display window and knew that Jess was back. His lover started Matt’s day as he always did – by indulging himself in feeling that amazing, muscly, lean body! He ran his hands over the strong pecs, tweaked the large prominent nipples, felt the ribs of the abdomen, kneaded the biceps and then gave Matt a good hard thwack on his cock and balls. Then he leant over and gave the thick black boots a lick – just a quick one; today was not the day for dalliance.

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Story

The WORC Program – Part 25

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By Joshua Ryan

The month or so before I was supposed to graduate, the tension was building. I was studying for final exams and also getting letters from colleges saying I was either in or out. I dealt with that stuff kind of in the background. Mainly I went around lookin at all the things in my life like, pretty soon, I’m never gonna see you again. My friends, my school, the house where I grew up — they were like, in the past already. My dad and my brother had been like that for quite a while, and they seemed to feel the same about me. I mean, they had this look like, “Are you still around?” I guess we were never a real close family.

I’d been dreading all these things that happen at the end of high school — like, proms and yearbooks and graduation ceremonies and so forth — but they were in the past too. I just did them. Although I didn’t go to the prom — none of the guys asked me! LOL! But I did put on the robes and march in the graduation ceremony. Of course I was thinking, these people think that WORKIES look like clowns!

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Story

You Wanted This

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By Locked22

“You wanted this, slave.”

The voice spoke confidently through a speaker overhead as Derek stared at the collar.

This wasn’t just any collar. “It must weigh ten pounds” he thought, as he lifted the massive metal object off the floor of the cell he found himself in. It was a beautiful piece of ironwork, with an integrated locking mechanism that removed any need for a bulky padlock. A length of heavy chain stretched from an anchor on the wall to the collar – long enough to allow a wearer to sit or stand, but not long enough for the wearer to get close to the door of the cell.

He knew that if he closed it around his neck, there was no going back.

Not that there was much chance of that as it was. He was naked, save for the chastity cage that had been a constant companion over the preceding month, and alone in the small cell. He didn’t know where he was, or even who he was about to put himself in the custody of.

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Story

The Cask of Amontillado

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By Edgar Allan Poe

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely, settled — but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation.

He had a weak point — this Fortunato — although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself on his connoisseurship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practise imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; —I was skillful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could.

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Story

Bondage in 2020 Cell Without Bars – Part 04

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By felon

The Noose Tightens Further – Paranoia Has Set In…

Many thanks for all the comments from kinky readers.

I am still open to meet men of all ages and sizes for prison sessions.

So I was told to make sure I was available Wednesday from 10 am to 8 pm.

I have had very little conversation with this man — more by e mail than in person. He is imposing, a large, mature top — probably ex-military, and in some kind of parole or prison occupation. He is also very up to date in technology and lets technology do much of his work.

I still have the device locked on my ankle, so he knows every move I make. I still try to carry on a normal life-work, which is permitted, and then come directly home unless I have a need to shop, do laundry etc., by request, most of which is granted. He is keeping a tally of infractions, and as he stated punishment sessions will be this week.

So as I leave work I get a message on my cell phone: “Changes of plans – make yourself available Wednesday, Thursday and Friday – NO EXCUSES! Check your calendar for more information.”

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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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