Tag Archives: locked in a box

Story

The Purchase – Part 01

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By slavebladeboi

I don’t often purchase items off the internet, which may seem a strange thing to say for the head of an IT department for a largish company but I have this thing about wanting to touch and feel the items I’m buying. Pictures just don’t do it somehow. Anyway, that’s changed somewhat. I got to the end of an 18-month project that will save the company seven figure sums over the next few years and the bonus I got was out of this world. So I blew it, well most of it, on something I’ve wanted for ages and never had the means to buy. It’s taken nearly two months from order specification to delivery and today, this morning, the crate is standing in the room downstairs waiting for me and my crowbar.

It’s a heavy wooden crate, full of those bloody awful, tennis ball sized polystyrene balls that go everywhere as soon as you look at them and take ages to clear up. But it keeps the item safe which is more important.

I stood looking at the crate and then decided to take pics of the unveiling. So not wanting a full on video I decided to take one or two shots at regular intervals. The first pieces of wood came off quite easily, together with a small avalanche of white balls.

Continue reading The Purchase – Part 01 →

Story

The Adventures of Pete and Gunner – Part 2

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By pwnedpuppy

Getting Ready for the Move

It was late Thursday night as the train pulled into the station.  my phone buzzed – it was Pete.

“you can ride up front,” He wrote. (And, yes – the you was lower-case.)

As i left the platform, i could see Pete’s truck off in the parking lot.  He flashed His headlights to let me know He saw me.  i scampered over quickly, able to move nimbly since i had absolutely no luggage with me.

Visiting Pete on weekends was really an exercise in minimalism. i spent most of my time at His place naked, and anything that i would be allowed to wear was stored there.  All i had to bring was myself, my ID and my phone.

i got to the truck, opened the door, and saw Pete sitting in the driver’s seat in the glow of the golden interior light. He looked great as always.

Pete’s dark brown hair neat in a high and tight, with a week’s worth stubble covering the lower part of His face. His square jaw shined in the gleam of the overhead light. An unzipped black leather bike jacket hung from His big, broad shoulders, covering His torso. He had a tight black t-shirt on underneath.  Wranglers hugged His bubble butt, and He was wearing those goddamn riding boots that i’ve given a tongue bath to too many times to count over the last couple years.

Continue reading The Adventures of Pete and Gunner – Part 2 →

Story

Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 09

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By Greg Alexander

With the mud rides finally over, I was hauled back into the frat house after being thoroughly rinsed off, like a dirty piece of livestock, by a high pressure hose in the yard.

By this point, I had accomplished the truly remarkable task of accumulating no fewer than 273 demerits, all marked down in tidy bunches of five on the big white board. I wondered what exactly the consequence of having so many demerits would be.   It wouldn’t take me too long to find out.

It was late, and most of the pledges and frat boys were drunk enough and tired enough that they were finally through abusing me, at least for the night. As the large crowd of frat boys dispersed, Trevor and Bryce came over and picked me up on either end of my body. Of course, needless to say, I was still bound and tied up from head to toe.

“Hey,” Trevor said in a deep voice. He was talking to Shane, the pledge ring leader. “You wanna come do this with us?”

“Sure!” Shane’s voice was eager.

Continue reading Frat Boy’s Bitch Boy – Part 09 →