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An alpha inmate gets strip searched by corrections officers

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There have been reports of drones flying contraband into the jail, but, in a surprise to no one, endless searches of cells have turned up nothing. The first recourse is to make an example of someone and let it be known that strip searches will become more common as a result of drone activity. The someone has to be an alpha on the wing or it won’t work. The warders choose someone who is respected, has more to lose by kicking up a fuss than going along with it, and who is likely to have something on him. In this case its this stoic green eyed Irishman…

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Busman’s Holiday – Part 20

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By lthr_jock

Clark stared at the computer in disbelief. Grumbling, he headed into the shower and started to lather himself down. He could barely believe what had happened to him – or what Vickers had made happen to him. He was abused, violated – and yet, on top of it all, he was still horny. A pain from his crotch reminded him of the cage still on him – a pain caused by his cock trying to get erect. He smiled ruefully as he realised that he had enjoyed the experience.

As he stood in front of the mirror towelling off, he looked at himself. His new haircut looked strange, but combined with his clean-shaven chin made him look 10 years younger. His body looked off without his covering of hair, but it gleamed and shone as he towelled down, and he wondered what it had looked like with the posing oil on. As he thought this through, his cock swelled again in the cuff, and he looked down, wondering what it would look like now that his pubic hair was gone. His muscles still held the marks of the harness chains, and there were red marks all over him from the bondage. Although he hadn’t been doing any exercise he ached, and with a towel wrapped around him he went back into his room and crashed out on the bed.

Continue reading Busman’s Holiday – Part 20 →

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Busman’s Holiday – Part 15

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By lthr_jock

Vickers was ticked off. No, scratch that, Vickers was angry. Angry at Clark, angry at Carl and Greg – but most of all, angry at himself. It started from the moment at the party when he realised that the hunky man secured in the straitjacket and muzzle was actually Clark. He had dreamed of getting Clark in that kind of position, but had been moving things forward slowly, carefully. But Greg and Carl had got Clark into the gear within just a few hours. Vickers had enjoyed getting Carl restrained inside the vac rack, but all that day his attention kept getting drawn across the aisle to Clark. The sight of his body in the tight leather harness with his arms locked behind him distracted him, aroused him – and made him jealous as hell.

After the conference, Vickers continued talking to Clark by email and text and monitoring Clark’s workouts. It was clear the man was still working hard at the gym, though his measurements had stabilised and he seemed to be improving definition rather than just putting on bulk. Vickers had several thoughts about where to go next, but whenever he broached ideas with Clark, Clark seemed distracted and gave brusque off-hand replies. Vickers also noted that he was curious about Greg and Carl and the conversation often returned to them.

The last straw came when Greg and Carl invited him to their latest open house to display their latest creations. Their venue was in an abandoned warehouse, and the main showroom was circular and high-ceilinged. High on the walls were video screens, and on this occasion they were showing slideshows of men wearing various items of leather wear. Vickers grabbed a drink and wandered around. As usual, their gear was high quality and piqued his interest – but tonight his attention kept getting drawn back to the video screens. Despite the fact that the leather being worn kept changing, the model looked the same. The photos never showed his face, but as he looked on Vickers realised that they were all photos of Clark. This was confirmed by the last set where he was wearing a leather version of his guard uniform. Vickers felt his cock swell and gulped down his drink as his jealousy spiked.

Continue reading Busman’s Holiday – Part 15 →

Story

The Convict – Part 10

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By Joshua Ryan

THIS IS A STORY ABOUT ADULTS, FOR ADULTS ONLY

As I said before, I’d seen prison vans on the road. Maybe some of them were on their way to the Durant Unit.   I didn’t know. I was never really interested. I remember that when I saw them I wanted to look inside, but I couldn’t see in past the bars. All I could see was some shadowy things that looked like ghosts. Ghosts of men. Former men. I’d never thought about it that way, but that’s the way it had looked. You see a lot more than you realize.

Now I was inside the van, and the people on the street were seeing me go by. Some of them stared, and some of them glanced and looked away, like they were ashamed that they’d looked in the first place. Women in tapered suits, with little purses. Young guys in bright neckties, just getting off work. A gang of teenagers with their caps turned around, jumping on and off their skateboards, waiting for the light to change. “Dude!” one of them yelled, pointing at the van. “There’s a jailbird in there!” They all craned their necks and tried to see through the bars. They were starting to jump off the curb to get a better look, but Andre gestured at them to stay where they were, and they obeyed the man in uniform. The light changed, and the van moved on. I wondered if those kids would remember me, if they ever found themselves inside a bus that was headed for prison.

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The Convict – Part 03

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By Joshua Ryan

The executive lounge is on the top floor of the Freer Building. It’s very comfortable. There’s even a deck outside where you can catch a few rays or look at the stars if you’re working late. It was a good view, but not many people stepped outside to enjoy it. Like Peter said, how much ass can you scope in an industrial park? And at breaks, everybody sort of expected you to keep with your group. There was one guy who stayed in his cube and read, and he was regarded as totally antisocial. I didn’t have enough guts to do that. But I was tired of Peter and his stupid jokes. So I started using the deck.

I knew he’d be watching out of the corner of his eye, so at first I just strolled around, glancing over the railing at this and that. But then I looked for what I really wanted to see. Down below, at the edge of Phase Two, the convicts were moving closer. Already the pile of rocks had come about a third of the way along the fence. The cons in the harnesses pulled the bin across the field, and the cons on the chain pulled out the rocks and laid them in line. Then you could see what looked like guys with hammers, going after the rocks to get them in shape.

“Making little ones out of big ones,” Peter said, on the one day when he surprised me by leaving the group and coming out on the deck. “Same thing that an old queer does when he’s naked.”

Continue reading The Convict – Part 03 →