By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 2: One’s Company
Roger let me know that he’d made not only the room arrangements but also an appointment for us with Major Timmons of the St. Bevons State Labour Program. “I confess that I have had the tour already, but I will enjoy meeting him again, and I am sure that you will enjoy it too. We will meet him at his office at 9:00 a.m. on the second day after your arrival. As for our own meeting, may I suggest 7 p.m., local time, on the day you arrive? I will make our dinner reservations for that hour in the restaurant of the King George Hotel. I think you will find the Oak Room more than passable. We can meet in the lobby.”
“Thank you—but how will we recognize each other? Should I carry a copy of ‘BDSM for Fun and Profit’?”
“Oh yes, that is a question. For purposes of recognition, my dear sir, I humbly request a photo of yourself. You will note that I am not yet requesting an exchange of names. After all, what, to the world, is a photograph without a name?”
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 02
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
The literal, not figurative!
See the VIDEO at Men in Chains
By Johnny Utah
Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC
I was at a camping site in the Osceola National Forest. We had been out there camping for three days. Just a bunch of us, we all knew each other from college, it was our last day there. We’d be packing up after lunch. We stayed near the Ocean Pond, more of a small lake. It was a nice place but after three days I was ready to go back to civilization. The bugs weren’t too bad, and we did a lot of hiking.
While everybody else was heading home I was going to stay in the area for two more days in a hotel somewhere towards Jacksonville. I didn’t have a job to go back to because of COVID. My job searches were not getting me any call backs.
I turned out onto road and set off for Jacksonville. I was driving for about five minutes when I saw it. There was a sign, “Prison Work Crew Ahead.” Sure enough, just ahead of me were groups of guys working on my side the road. There were a lot of them, working away. I wondered how early they started. They were all in blue uniforms, some wore an orange vest, some not. There were white guys and black guys, all sweating away. Guys were using weed whackers on the long grass, sticks with claws on the end you can use to pick up trash without bending over too far, and some guys just using their hands to pick up trash and junk at the side of the road.
Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 01
Part 7: Destiny
Ben idly scratched his thick beard as he turned over inside the cage, the midnight moon covering the garden and hills beyond the grid of bars with silver light. He reflected on the last few hours.
The Captain had returned from a week away on a large fire that had been burning in the mountains to the west, a range that cut off the Bear Trap Ranch from the blanket of cool moist fog along the coast.
The Captain had drove into the canyon camp late in the day, just as the heat gave way to cool evening shadows, His huge pickup covered with red dust and ash. He jumped out, and came through the gate, where the slave was kneeling, excited at his return. He tousled Ben’s thick mane of brown hair before stripping down and taking a long cool shower under the big blue oak tree, with the slave kneeling between his legs.
Continue reading The Bear Trap – Part 07
If you travel over the rough Santa Lucia Mountains, past towering Cone Peak, and away from the white water Big Sur coast, you come to set of broad oak studded valleys and chaparral covered ridges descending eastward toward the Salinas Valley. The Bear Trap is named for a box canyon among the ridges where oaks stud the grassy north facing slopes and brush and ghostly grey pines the sunburn south faces. Long ago, Mexican vaqueros would lure grizzly bears into the steep sided “trap” with live bait, such as a steer, to be roped and killed.
The ranch in that canyon is accessed by a 7-mile dirt road, and no one lives out there except the Captain. And the muscled work slave.
Continue reading The Bear Trap – Part 01
I woke with a start. My collar was pulsing. Master East was stood staring at me in the glaring light of the cell. He pressed a button on his control. The restraints released and the cage door swung open.
I removed the headphones and clambered out of the cage. I stood naked in front of him. My feet were set wide apart in the footprints printed on the floor. My hands behind my head with my fingers interlaced. I was focussing on his brightly shone boots. It felt like such a natural position for me to be in. My cock throbbed in its cage. He undid the gag and pulled it out of my mouth. I swallowed and adjusted my jaw to try and get rid of the stiffness.
He clipped a leash to my collar and pulled me forward out the door and up the stairs. He walked quicker than Master West. We were moving towards an area of the Island I hadn’t visited before. We followed a path through the trees and into another clearing. I was faced with what looked like a construction site. Around the clearing, other slaves were working – wielding picks, digging with spades and carrying away the soil and rocks in barrows.
Continue reading Island Master UK – Part 08
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!
Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 25