Note: This is the third and final part of “The Slave Daycare” by Taurus, with Chapters 20 to 31. If you missed the earlier chapters, click for Part 1 (Chapters 1 to 11); and Part 2 (Chapters 12 to 19).
Chapter 20 – Parasite
“I’m tired of you maggots not doing it right!”
Though the words were that of a stern drill sergeant, the mood was as light as can be – Warren spent seemingly the whole day rolling slaves who lost matches back onto their hands and knees, and cursing his supposed “helpers” who spent their day sat to one side instead of teaching with him.
“You beat me fair and square, Warren,” the silver helper said.
“And you gave me the win after I cheated,” the golden one said.
The cursing was thankfully entirely devoid of sincerity – jolly laughs rang out among the grunts and moans of the dojo students.
Warren’s helpers were not entirely useless either; Grey and Magnus took care of the slaves who decided they had wrestled enough, providing water and towels and hugs where requested.
Continue reading The Slave Daycare – Part 03
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 21: How Not to Get Rejected
So where was I goin with this? I got hard again and the story sorta got away from me. OK, nothing unusual! I was just saying that I didn’t dare to tell him how I felt, because—here’s the R word coming up—I didn’t want to be Rejected. It would be really bad to get rejected when you’re, like, permanently locked in a stall with the dude that’s rejecting you! I mean, locked in with him every day and every night! Of course, that was good in another way, real good . . . . But you see how I felt.
Toby did tell me enough about his life so I knew he’d been some big rich guy and he “got in trouble—sort of an accident,” and was sentenced to life in the SLP, and he hated it for a while, because they made him work in some cheap hotel downtown, and that wasn’t great, but then Mr. Sharma bought him, “and after that everything was squared away.”
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 21
Chapter 1 – The Workhorse
Two men walked alongside each other down a corridor.
“A new arrival today?” The blond man asked matter-of-factly, without even the slightest attention paid to the fact that he was totally exposed, had a leash around his neck, and a cage over his dick.
“Yes – a labour slave called Finn. He’s being put here while his owner’s out of town,” the other man, black-haired and clothed in a flower shirt, replied. “Get his trust and make him comfortable – he’s young.”
“Dammit! You can’t leave a new slave alone for the first few days like this!” The sheer emphaticness of the exclamation stopped the men in their tracks.
“You know this best, Magnus, and that’s why this daycare exists – I’m expecting you to become his teddy bear.”
The pair was silent as they entered a staff-only area (clearly marked as such), where Magnus opened a locker with his name, and his clothed companion watched from the sidelines, sitting on a couch.
“How should I play this?” Magnus asked as he contemplated the myriad bondage implements in front of him.
“My advice: treat him like he’s volatile. Literally take him to dinner if he doesn’t want to eat.”
Continue reading The Slave Daycare – Part 01
For those who are interested in learning more about the Master/slave lifestyle, a great website is masterslavelifestyle.com.
One of my favorite articles there is this one about the psychological aspects of long-term cage confinement (pictured above). The site also has tons of lifestyle articles and even podcasts, including one featuring English Leather Master and his slave (pictured below):
The site is created by controlledslave of Recon.
Click for masterslavelifestyle.com
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 5: The Benefits of a College Education
So that was my last night at the Explorers Bay Resort. I was sorta sad that I wouldn’t see Patrick and Dobie again, but I was sorta glad too. Well, not “glad,” but I knew they didn’t really care about me, and actually why should they? I was a new guy to have sex with and get money from, and that was OK, but there would always be another one. They were living in their own world, and I was just somebody that showed up for a while. And as far as missing them when I was gone–after all that sex, I felt like I’d never need to have sex again.
Ha! That was funny!
But fuck! I’d learned a lot. Next morning, I was watching my dad arguing with the guy at the desk about the vodka that was charged to my brother’s room and watching my brother lookin all dark and, like, resentful about the lie he’d told when he said he never saw it and watching my mom going, “Come on, the limo’s waiting, come on now,” and everybody looking all dorky and stupid in their St. B tees and their high-priced sandals, and the slappies standing in their places lookin totally chill in their browns and their boots and their not-my-problem tude, and you could see their dicks under their shorts just lurking and lolling around after whatever went on last night and looking forward to whatever was gonna go on tonight.
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 05
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 21: Spare the Rod and Spoil the Slappie
Then came the day when I returned to the housekeeping room on the fifth floor, and my hand couldn’t find the stash I’d hidden behind the wallboard. I knew I was in bad trouble. I was scared to even look at my other hiding places. At the end of my shift, I found Boss Derek waiting for me at his desk. Seated behind that old dinged-up piece of discarded furniture, wearing his brown slappie suit with his hotel tag dangling from his collar, he looked like a total putz, despite the distinguished haircut. But he also had total power.
“Found this,” he said, opening a drawer, pulling out a wad of cash and laying it on the desk.
“What’s that?” I said. It was just a formality. I knew I was caught.
“Don’t waste my time,” he said, putting the wad back in his drawer. I could imagine what was going to happen to that. That and all the other stuff he’d found, exactly where he knew it was. His snitches would have seen to that. It would be pointless to bring up all the bills I’d passed up the chain to him. He wouldn’t bother to deny it. It was clear that somewhere I’d crossed a line. No matter how much he’d made from me, I’d gotten too big. I’d have to be made small. And being a sadist is entertaining in itself. “Hit the Frame,” he said.
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 21
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 16: Establishing Your True Worth
There were bets about how quick Yash would go, and the ones that bet on his thirty-first day in the Coop were right. I took longer. Lots longer. By the time I went to the Room, I was the longest-running slap in the Coop. But just when I thought I was lost in the system, the boss grabbed me out of the line leaving the chow hall and told me to “stand aside.” “Aside” was a collection of three slappies–me, a 20-something named Kristian that had been vacationing from Sweden and had suddenly discovered that coke was not allowed on St. Bevons Island, and a young local named Marco, a “rude boy” that had got himself “sent down thee road” to Slappieville. Marco was a kid, 18 or 19, whose eyes kept roving back and forth like he expected someone to kill him. Kristian was tall and his stubble was blond, but he was skinny and somehow professorial. Even after his weeks in Slaptown, he was still looking around him in a bewildered way, like he’d lost his glasses or his cellphone.
The Boss led us to the Intake shack, where Jojo and Malcolm gave us a shower and a new set of browns and boots. “Lookin you best for thee Man” was Jojo’s comment. “No haircut?” I said. “No mon, that stubble you got is you best feature mon.” When they were finished, they shackled our legs and cuffed our hands in front of us. Then they locked our cuffs to a chain. An officer came by, grunted something at the trusties, gripped the end of the chain, and gave it a tug. We shuffled forward. “You’re on your way to the Show Room,” he said. Like we wouldn’t have guessed. But that was that. No long goodbyes.
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 1: Chapter 16
Nic slammed on the brakes. In the dark, nearly midnight, He had nearly missed seeing the biker at the exit to the petrol station. Bikers jacket, but no helmet and no bike.
The biker smiled and thanked Nic for the lift, yes he was going all the way back to Sydney. The biker slumped back and closed his eyes. Nic looked him over, about 30, short but fit, well-fitting quality bikers jacket and black jeans, with a prominent bulge in the crotch and tall Doc Marten boots with red laces. Clean shaven black hair and masculine.
Nic was already getting the stirring of an erection.
The biker had just got himself into a lot of trouble, Nic hoped.
Where was his bike? But the biker was exhausted. Not now, Nic thought.
Continue reading Nic Slammed on the Brakes