Tag Archives: manual labor

Florida Trap – Part 01

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

The Bear Trap – Part 07

By FirefighterSIR

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

The Bear Trap – Part 01

By FirefighterSIR

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

Island Master UK – Part 08

By Wakeysub

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.

“Out.”

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

The WORC Program – Part 25

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

The WORC Program – Part 22

By Joshua Ryan

So OK, this is Lucky, and I get to talk!

Butch says that’s a dog’s name, and maybe he’s right! But I’m glad Mr. Hamilton chose it, because it’s the right name for me. If anybody’s lucky, I am. Just look at my boyfriend Butch! You think I’m not lucky?

Anyway, I’ve been here at Hamilton Farms for two years now, so this is a big fast forward, LOL! But it’s a good time to check into the story, for reasons I’m gonna explain. So yeah. But I wanta go back to the start. The start for me, anyhow.

It all started — me being lucky, I mean! — when I was in my senior year in high school. When you turn 18, I guess you start lookin around, tryin to figure out what you wanta do. I know what my dad wanted me to do. (I guess I should tell you, my mother’s dead. I can’t remember her much, actually. Too bad — maybe she was nice!) I was the one that was going to college. My brother Luke, he was the one that was gonna take over the business. I remember my dad sitting me down in private and telling me, “You know, Luke understands how to do this. He’s already doing it. So … I’m giving it to him. No hard feelings?”

“Course not, Dad. I didn’t want it anyway.”

I guess he didn’t like to hear that. But it was true.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 22

The WORC Program – Part 20

By Joshua Ryan

Spring went on. Out in the fields, it was beans, then onions, then back to beans, then three weeks digging a ditch to drain water off the level, featureless land. If you looked around, you’d believe the earth was flat after all. When I woke up in the night, I saw the long barred window at the top of the barn, and the cold stars shining behind it. Ace and Mack were rutting in the bunk ten feet away from me, but I didn’t notice it anymore. I didn’t even hear it.

Things did happen from time to time. Dax broke his arm on some machine in the canning factory and had to be taken to the vet. Who put him back in the coffle where he could keep whacking weeds, only with his other arm. One time it rained for six days and we couldn’t work, so there were a lotta fights. Even Ace got in a fight with a workie that made a joke about him. I can’t remember the joke, but I know the guy will never want to fight him again.

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 20

The WORC Program – Part 09

By Joshua Ryan

The Haute Cuisine de Paris Select Tour … Mike had finally agreed to book it … I was lingering on a foggy street on the Ile Saint-Louis … Then from somewhere — some seventeenth century house? Some charming local church? — a bell was clanging. “Cmon,” Mack said. “Ain’t got all day.” He was already on his way to the shit holes, where a line had formed — a line of identical packages of rocklike muscles dressed in identical boxers and tees. A dream, and a nightmare.

I was one of the last to get to the holes, so I was glad I’d shat my guts out the night before, and all I needed to do was piss. I didn’t bother to line up for the sink. I went back to my bunk and started turning myself into the image of Mack, who had already dressed.

I can’t say they didn’t give us enough time. It was all hurry up and wait for our turn at the Chow Hall. While waiting, the workies shot the shit with each other, paying no attention to me. They weren’t interested anymore. I wasn’t new. I just stood by my bunk until Boss Web yelled, “Awright, make your line!” and we all marched off to the chow palace. Bill of fare: egg and cheese on bun, grits on the side. Hearty food! What you’d get in a fast food place, if the place was about to be closed by the health inspectors. Also a cup of coffee. No cream, no sugar, but the first coffee I’d had since I signed those papers. By the time I got through with it, I was so high that Ace came up beside me and said, “Coffee. It happened to me too. My first day. Watch your step. I don’t want you havin any accidents.”

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 09