Tag Archives: The Stockroom

Florida Trap – Part 07

By Johnny Utah

Based on a suggestion by MetalbondNYC

I was working hard at the ranch. My routine was set. Get up, coffee, do the three S’s, and then off to the stables. It was about half a mile to the stables from my mobile home. My boots crunched the gravel on the track to the stables. It was a good walk and got my mind cleared to concentrate on work.

As I’d get close to the stables I’d be sucked in by the warm smells of hay, horse, and the Florida woods. First thing to do was feed and water the horses, get them into whatever corral or field they need to be in.  I’d toss dozens of haybales into the hayloft, dig fence post holes, lug wood around, dig ditches, and as ever — shovel shit into the trailer and then shovel it out at the manure pile.

There were always little extras that were enjoyable. I liked brushing the horses. I’d talk to them to make sure they were calm. They always listened. Each horse had its own personality.

Continue reading Florida Trap – Part 07

Pleroma – Part 03

By Taurus

Part 3 – trainingprogram19_beta-v1.9_28/01/20XX

(Author’s note: As a clarification born from possible misunderstandings arising from the anonymity of the year, please note that the timestamp for trainingprogram19 is before that of streetfair1 and clubslave1.)

Luke, having come home from an after-hours training routine and a Wagyu steak dinner at a top Japanese restaurant, yawned and stretched before summoning his robot butler.

“Good evening, sir. How may Ondine help?”

“Take my clothes.”

Despite being given the decidedly female name Ondine, after the eponymous siren in Bertrand’s Gaspard de la Nuit, Ondine had a male voice.

Apparently, this Ondine was not out to seduce and kill, which was fortunate for Luke. Instead, Ondine, its cybernetic thinking devoid of judgement, assisted Luke in removing his full suit and tie, and before long, Luke could stand completely naked –

Well…naked except for the “you-know-what,” as colloquially known in “right-thinking” circles that speak in circles and formalities.

Continue reading Pleroma – Part 03

The Bear Trap – Part 08

By FirefighterSIR

Part 8: Long and Slow

Sullie is a black-and-white Springer Spaniel that loves birds. He was barking and jumping on the wire fence and his short tail worked enthusiastically, his full attention on the covey of quail that were moving in the short, dry grass at the edge of the camp clearing. Sulllie barked again and then the other dog ran over to see what was happening, eager to join in any excitement that could be had in the evening shadows.

The quail pecked at seeds and ants in the golden grass and fluffed themselves in the dust dry soil, just along the fringe of dark scrub brush that lines both sides of the canyon where the camp was sheltered. The canyon faced north in a series of brushy ridges in the inland ranges of the Santa Lucia Mountains, a remote location where few ventured.

Late summer evenings, when the sun was setting and cool air flowed down every canyon, was a time when all of the wildlife would come out on the Bear Trap Ranch. A coyote padded down the road toward the gate and deer looked for some tasty green buds hidden among the spiny dry brush.

Continue reading The Bear Trap – Part 08

The Jacket – Part 2

By Rubrpig

Sir John and I left the shop and began the walk to our loft building. By some stroke of fate I now was the boy to a man and we just happened to live in the same building. The walk was definitely intense for me as so much had happened in just a few hours. I had gone from walking into Mr. S Leather in jeans, boots and a t-shirt to being in chaps, leather jock and a heavy locked straitjacket.

To add to the intensity I now wore 2 collars, one for service and one that was now apparently permanent. I followed my new Sir and as Sir held my leash in his right hand, I walked behind him on his right. We had about an 8 block walk so I knew most likely many people would see us. I was finally settling down and not feeling quite so nervous and antsy even though I was for the first time in my life heavily encased and locked into leathers.

With a couple of exceptions most people who walked by us simply smiled and watched as we walked by them. One gay couple walked past and asked if we were getting ready for Dore Alley? Sir John smiled and told them that was right and that he was getting his boy used to being walked in bondage. They told us to enjoy the evening and they wandered away.

Continue reading The Jacket – Part 2

What the Fuck? – Part 1

By convict 975468

Eventually I woke up. I didn’t want to. Sleep was so nice and comfortable. I kept luxuriating in it, easing back into it. It was so nice. I did wake up, but slowly and reluctantly.

It was very dark, I couldn’t see. I lay there cozy, lazy. I was lying on my side. I slowly turned over. Far above me, I saw a skylight showing ambient light. That was nice.

I moved again. Something was dragging my right ankle. Something was wrapped around it. I was naked. That was nice. Everything was nice.

Slowly, slowly I began to think. There were no covers. I don’t have a skylight!

With a start, I sat up. “Where am I?”

I couldn’t see in the dark. I felt around, and realized that I was sitting on a mattress. I pulled my right foot toward me, and felt my ankle. There was a shackle attached to my ankle, and a chain!

What the fuck!

Continue reading What the Fuck? – Part 1

The WORC Program – Part 07

By Joshua Ryan

I don’t know how long it took for Grig to unlock the door and take me out of the room, but by that time all the other workies were back in their boxes. End of another perfect day.

“How’d it go?” Grig said. “Buyer like what he saw?”

“I don’t think so,” I said. My job right then was not to break down in hysterical faggot tears.

“Too bad. Sergeant told me the guy’s got money.”

“Yeah. He does.”

“But I guess he’s lookin for somethin special.” We’d reached the door of my box. “In you go,” he said. And he locked me in for the night.

I hoped that morning would never come again, but it did. After that, every day was the same. The only difference was what I got to scrub or shine or wax–one or many times. Officers had a way of finding you on your knees, just finishing up your part of the hallway, and accidentally spilling your bucket all over it. “Too bad. Guess you’ll need to do it again, workie.”

Continue reading The WORC Program – Part 07

Teddy Bear – Part 02

By Taurus

Teddy Bear on a Leash

My present name is Alec, and I am an owned slave. As I understand, Master has written an entry for the Prison Library, from which he finds lots of inspiration to torment me. He suggested that I entertain myself with reading “Teddy Bear” (which he wrote) and possibly writing an entry of my own.

So here I am doing just that while leashed to Master’s desk. Before anyone asks, I am writing this on a laptop on the floor, I am currently wearing a bit gag with my limbs chained, ass plugged, and cock caged. No clothes, of course – Master made the rule. If I go on other sites, Master can easily see me doing it anyway, and my life would get triple as hard, so I won’t. He does let me search for facts, though.

No need for concern for my jaws. If I find my jaw seizing up, I am allowed to take the gag from my mouth and loosen it to hang it around my neck, like another collar, for 15 minutes before I wear it again. Master trusts me to keep the gag in as long as possible, and that I do. I love to feel the sudden absence of beard hair when I’m nuzzling things and it makes me feel more comfortable, as it reminds me that Master is taking care of me.

Truth be told, my training was described in adequate detail in “Teddy Bear” – after all, it’s fairly generic; rewards for doing well, penalties for doing poorly. This is the base of all training philosophies, even for animals and slaves. Really, if even this slave understands “finger your prostate and you get flogged”, I’m sure everyone can get the hang of it. This isn’t trying to explain philosophy for events in life or complex, elaborate metaphors, which I definitely can’t.

Continue reading Teddy Bear – Part 02