Tag Archives: manual labor

Story

The Prison Writer – Chapter 13

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By Joshua Ryan

No one wants to read a complete account of my daily life.  I’ll hit a few of the high points on the tour.

Food:  Early morning, noon, late afternoon — you go to the Chow Hall, which is that huge concrete thing on the Yard that looks like a feature of some winter Olympics.  You sit on a steel stool attached to a long steel table, squeezed into your seat together with miles of other men with numbers on their backs.  The food is substantial: mes compliments au chef.  It’s also cheap, greasy, and ugly.  First time I went to the chow hall, Finn showed me how to line up and get my grub.  I sat with him at a table and he told the other convicts, “Here’s my new bunkie, Ven.”  “Ven” for “Steven.”  All right, I was Ven.

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Story

Long Term Confinement – Part 03

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By Scribe

Discipline Technologies recently opened a prison for clients and volunteers seeking incarceration for themselves or others (see our publication Long Term Confinement Part- 01). We quickly realized that we had facilities and personnel that were not being used to full advantage. Our warehouse had a large first floor and shipping facilities that were mostly unused. Our basement was full of prisoners that were sitting idle in their cells. We thought if we could productively employ these prisoners plus obtain additional slaves, we could achieve a win/win for our clients and our company.

We first contacted the clients who consigned inmates to us for safekeeping. We offered to waive the fee for confinement if we could use the prisoner as a slave. A few clients wanted to keep their victims chained in their cages. The majority, however, were happy to save the expense of confinement and let us use the prisoner as we saw fit. We then asked the volunteer prisoners if they wanted to continue to be locked in their cell or work as a slave in the warehouse upstairs. Tired of solitary confinement, most elected in get out of their cages. A few preferred to continue their incarceration.

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Story

Florida Trap – Part 11

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By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

Note: This is the final chapter. To start at the very beginning, click here.

The stocks sat in the middle of a sandy, sun-baked clearing, surrounded by big green old Army style tents and a few plywood buildings with tin roofs. Sweat was pouring into my eyes as I shuffled over to a low platform with two tall vertical posts and two cross members with holes cut in them for my head and arms. What had I got myself into!

A gorilla-sized guard of this hellhole pointed at me and said, “OK, shithead, this can go easy or I can go and get ten of my buddies and fuck you up for life, got it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You stay still while I get these chains off you.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I was unshackled and uncuffed.

“Put yer boots in the there.”

I dropped my booted feet into the half circles on the platform. A plank with another two half circles dropped in over my boots. My feet were trapped. In front of me was a crosspiece with cut-outs for my head and arms.

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Story

Florida Trap – Part 10

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By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

The owners of the ranch I’d been working at had decided to sell the place. Bad news for me. I needed to find a new place to live and a new job. Sgt. Stiles had come over, and we walked back to the barn. It was a long quiet walk back to the barn. When we got there Sgt Stiles said, “I’m going to miss this place.”

There were just a few bales of hay and a few bits of tack around the barn. The barn had the lingering smell of horse and warm hay. Sgt. Stiles was in his sexy ass tight Wrangler jeans and a tight white T shirt. His jeans were tight enough for me to see the outline of a pair of handcuffs in his back left pocket. Sgt. Stiles ordered me to strip. That didn’t take long at all! I had on was my shorts and jock. He spun me around and cuffed me.

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Story

Florida Trap – Part 04

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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 was 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 said as he 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.

“No,” said Johnson. “That stays on. I don’t have a key for that.”

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Story

Florida Trap – Part 01

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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.

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Story

A Chasity Tale – Part 05: ‘Weekends and Beyond’

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By Coinnigh

Today’s story was originally posted to the Chastity Belt and Device Fiction page (the Altairboy site). It has been rewritten for a gay male audience.

Several years ago, I advertised that I was looking for a weekend Dom who wanted a male slave for sex and to clean his apartment. I gave a few specific requirements such as age, attractiveness and kinks. I met a couple of them for drinks and even had three trial runs locked in my chastity cage. It took a while, but I finally found the Master of my dreams. He was everything I wanted and knew just how to treat a slave. After two weekends at his place and a very sore butt on my part, we sat down to discuss an agreement.

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Story

Master Christmas

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By Aenyse

Lying in bed, Noel moaned quietly in his sleep. In his dream, there was a hot, muscular biker striding through the bar, eyes locked on his. The biker stepped up to him, far closer than Noel would have expected. Close enough to smell the leather of his jacket and trousers. The biker leaned over and growled something in Noel’s ear. Noel didn’t know what it was, but the voice sent shivers down his spine as he felt himself start to come undone.

Then, outside of the dream, he felt something sticky in his underwear. Sticky and wet. As the hot biker began to fade from view, Noel groaned as he began to wake up, realising that he’d had another wet dream.

“Fuck’s sake.” He grumbled as he swung his legs out of bed and went over to the pack of wet wipes that lived on top of his chest of drawers. He quickly wiped up the mess, tossing his underwear into the laundry pile and getting a fresh pair from the drawers.

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