An officer strips down at Real Working Men, a site featuring men in various blue-collar occupations who have great bodies.
Note: Real Working Men is now an archive site. There is no new material being added, but subscribers have access to their vast photo and video archives.
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 15: Would You Recommend Our Accommodations to Others?
Actually, I was wondering if this was gonna turn out to be another P and D thing, which probably was just my confusing how hot I thought I was in my first suit of browns with what those dudes must’ve had in mind when they were doin the stuff about bossing and killing and laying out the rules for the uppity new slap. But I didn’t get a chance to find out. The back door opened and immediately the room was filled with the body of a huge black man in a slappie suit.
“You finish with thee newbie,” he said, and it was more like an announcement than a question.
“Yeh boss,” Jojo said, and for once there wasn’t that little bit of sarcasm in his voice. “Jus finish.”
“OK, I take em now,” the black man said. “Cmere boy.”
I was the boy. I came, and without saying anything else he walked out the door with me trailing behind. “I’m Churchill,” he informed me. “I’m thee barn boss.”
An officer gets tied up at Real Working Men, a site featuring men in various blue collar occupations who have great bodies.
Note: Real Working Men is now an archive site. There is no new material being added, but subscribers have access to their vast photo and video archives.
By Taurus
James awoke with a start, opening his eyes to see nothing. Today was his last day here at this facility. Despite the fact that he had been stripped of his humanity, he wanted to stay.
So this was Stockholm syndrome. Maybe this was not the right term to use; his captors never really caused him much harm at all, if discounting Arnold that is. Though Russell in particular, he gave him the time of his life, and showed him what perfect love could feel like.
Speaking of Russell, where was he? The night prior, Russell had slept in the cell with James again, upholding his promise to stay by his slave’s side for the rest of yesterday. This morning, he seemed to have gone.
The lights were all off, but James felt a distinct absence. Gingerly, he shuffled around, and found no one by his side. After confirming no one was on the mattress, he splayed himself out as he usually did, but knocked into a certain something with his right shoulder.
Inspecting it further, he felt leather, chain and an unlocked padlock.
These vintage pictures are from the men of Real Working Men
Real Working Men is now an archive site. There is no new material being added, but subscribers have access to their vast photo and video archives.
By GratDelay
While I was trying to cool off mentally, Adin went to the kitchen and came back with the water bottle refilled. He tipped it up for me and I guzzle a bunch. I had been sweating like crazy. I looked over and saw that my sofa cushions would be going to the cleaners soon. It was a small price to pay for the experience I was having. I wanted to talk with Adin about the drug experience itself, but first I had to pee. I told Adin this, hoping he might let me out of the straitjacket, but he just said, “Down the hall to the left,” so I squared my shoulders and embarked on a rite of passage of sorts.
The chastity belt actually helped with this, directing the stream downward. Unfortunately, I couldn’t wipe any remainder dribbling from the drainage holes. I did a little twerk over the toilet, hoping to shake most of it off, then went back to the living room.
Adin was sifting through my other toys. “Looking for something for you to wear?” I asked.
“As if.”
He picked up a pecker-gag.
“No, Adin, I want to talk to you.”
He paced towards me, gag raised. I backed up a step, “Just wait, please. I love that gag, but can we talk some more first?”
By R8080
He was sitting at the dining table.
Alex stepped into the mudroom and saw Him waiting in the next room. He had changed, his worksuit was hanging up on one of the pegs now, next to Alex’s own. Alex pulled off the black rubber boots he had used to cross the yard quietly and placed them beneath his suit.
His Master said nothing.
Dropping to his hands and knees, Alex crawled slowly across the floor of the kitchen towards his Master.
He was wearing leather breeches again. Light gray, with black piping down the sides. The inside was a darker shade and only served to highlight His powerful legs.
Alex reached for His boot, but his Master patted his knee instead. Slowly getting to his feet, Alex sat gingerly in his Master’s lap.
By lthr_jock
As I park my BMW in the quiet street, I’m feeling nervous. I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m not used to this queasy roil in the pit of my empty stomach. I look up at the house I’m visiting and part of me wants to turn around and drive home – and it’s a big part. But I made a deal, and I don’t back out of deals. But this deal is such a tough one. I lean back in the leather seat and close my eyes. What was I thinking? How did I get myself into this stupid position? I think back to yesterday evening – it all started so normally.
I look at myself in the mirror before getting dressed to head out to Backstreet. I’m 40 now and while I’m not as fit as I was when I was 25, I’m still muscled and give the gym bunnies a run for their money when I hit the weights – which is most days. At 6ft2” I’m a natural top and I have the rugged face that comes from my Polish heritage. My black hair is greying and I keep it short – No 1 crop at the sides and longer on top. I have a thick moustache and neat goatee and am hairy most everywhere else. Everything about me screams “Top” which makes life very easy indeed as that’s the role I love to play. I grin as I imagine what everyone else at the bank would say if they saw what their manager gets up to in his free time. I run my hands through my hair, using some gel to spike it in place and then I get ready to head out.