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Story

Forlorn Hope – Part 05: Things Fall Apart

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By DR754

Today is Monday, August 8, 1967.

I’m scribbling this entry on toilet paper in a cold, dark holding cell in the Franklin County Jail in Hampton, Iowa. You see, it turns out the “town museum with the bars on the windows” I was wondering about, was actually the county jail. Built in 1880, or so they told me.

And I, a fugitive from justice, was dumb enough to park in the jail driveway. Fucking brilliant.

You see, shortly after drifting off to sleep, I was rudely awakened by a burly man in a “Correctional Officer” ballcap, rapping his nightstick on my car window. I tried to shake him off, but the message was clear – open up or else.

Uh oh. This is a problem. And where the fuck did a correctional officer come from?

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Story

Hallowe’en Horror Movie

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By Nephilim

When Jerry arrived at the new house of his keyholder, he didn’t know what to expect. He had been summoned. So there he was, in front of the gate, “the 31st of October at 15h45, not one minute sooner, not one minute later”. He rang the bell, looking through the gate at the gigantic grounds and the almost as gigantic house.

Jerry walked up the pathway, to the front door of the house, where his keyholder was waiting for him. In full leather regalia. Inwardly, Jerry smiled. His keyholder belonged to the old guard, even though he was not that old. Outwardly, Jerry lowered his eyes and knelt before his keyholder.

“Welcome, my boy. Right on time.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Stand up and follow me. We’re a bit rushed, but it will make sense soon.”

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Story

The Bear Trap – Part 11

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By FirefighterSIR

Part 11: Summer Nights

Summer nights dragged on more than winter nights it seemed.  It was not that the night was so long, but the sounds mixed with the heat lingering in the camp kept the slave up long past the time he should have slept. Crickets whined all around the fenced compound where the Captain’s tiny cabin stood and the wicked laughter of coyotes echoed through the canyons near and far.  The sound would first be of one lone coyote calling out in short howls then he would be answered by a yip or a bark.

Then more voices would chime in and gather.  Then silence, until the pack had cornered some wayward jackrabbit.  At the kill excited howls and barks would become a frightening garble of voices that would cut off suddenly, total silence.  That is when the slave would worry, looking, imagining red eyes glowing at the edge of the dark brush, looking to find a way into the compound, to him, as he lay vulnerable, caged like a chicken in a coop.

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Story

The Jacket – Part 6

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By Rubrpig

The relationship between Sir and I began to fall into a pattern which seemed to please Sir. He had access to me whenever he wanted and he knew that I was consistent in obeying all of my standing orders. My body was more muscular and harder since He had me change my gym to a gym that was primarily for bodybuilding. A workout buddy of his was a trainer and Sir arranged for me to be trained by him. Sir had set goals for my development and he wanted me very well defined and well muscled. He was careful to tell his buddy that I was not to be worked out to the point of being a bodybuilder. So Sir was pleased with my development. I had always found it easy to build muscle mass from my days training for the college football team I had starred on.

My personal image had also changed. As Sir had ordered me to grow a beard, I had stopped shaving and my beard had come in thick and dark like my hair. Sir finally told me to make an appointment to get my beard trimmed and shaped. I had to admit it was getting scruffy looking so I asked around and found a local barber that specializes in beards and men’s haircuts. I had always gone to a traditional barber shop as I had never felt comfortable in a hair salon, even one for men. Sir had told me to report to the store once I had finished at the barbers so he could ensure that he was happy with the results. I also asked for permission to have my hair clipped into a military high and tight and Sir smiled and agreed.

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