By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 20: Stallion A, Meet Stallion B
The slap in front of me was what I’d call an old guy. Forty years old, maybe–but he looked older and younger at the same time. His face was sort of weathered and there were scars on it, like his tools had hit him a few times—not too bad though. Actually good, if you know what I mean. But what I mean about young . . . . He wasn’t one of those slaps that always manages to get issued issued a suit of browns that are a little too small for its Giant Bulging Muscles. His browns were sorta loose and baggy, but you could tell from the way they fell off his pecs and his arms and his thighs that he definitely had things under control in the physical department. So that was interesting! But what was really young about him was just the way he was standing in the stall, leaning one arm on the upper rack, like he was saying, OK, whatever, I’m here, so what?
So what can I say? He was fuckin made for that stall, and that fuckin stall was made for him. Question was, how well was I gonna fit in?
“OK,” he said, “I’ll show you how it goes in here.”
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 20
By Joshua Ryan
Chapter 7: Carefully Review Your Vocational Options
Next morning, I dunno, I actually felt better about goin to class. You know when somebody says you should “get a life”? But now it was like, yeah, I do have a life. You can’t see it, cuz it’s outside of all this annoying shit I’m doin around here, but I do have it. And my life could actually end up in a different place. It probably won’t, but it could! Just reading that SLP stuff—that was so hot! In high school the English teacher talked about “escape literature,” which was supposed to be bad, but I didn’t think so. Would I like to escape? Hell yes! Give me more of that stuff to read.
So that night I started reading through the Volunteering thing again, and doing it real slow this time, just to enjoy all the fantasies. I noticed a lotta shit that I didn’t see before. Like in the INTERVIEW step, when you read over what they said, they didn’t say they’d be asking what was your opinion about anything. They didn’t say they were gonna “counsel” you or “advise” you or make some “suggestions” to you, the way people always did with me. Especially my dad. Have I told you I wished he’d been more of a man? But anyways, they were inviting you to the interview so they could find out whether you would fit in, and then they would TELL you. Also, when you got to the end of a Step where you were supposed to click the button to submit whatever kind of stuff they wanted from you, there was something like, “You will be notified whether you have permission to advance to the next Step.” In other words, you weren’t in charge, they were.
Continue reading Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 07
Check out these pictures from Powers Productions — a new site with pictures, videos and stories. The focus is on law enforcement, uniforms, military and incarceration. Fucking hot if you ask me!
Click for Powers Productions
Chapter 1 – ‘The Operation Gets Some Visitors’
Jason wasn’t supposed to see what he had seen.
He had gotten shit-faced because it was the weekend and he needed to unwind. Driving was a bad choice but he thought it wouldn’t matter in desolate western North Dakota. Who makes good choices when they’re toasted, anyway? Jason was having fun driving on unpaved back roads in his 2021 Bronco. The dirt and gravel were new to him and at first he had a death-grip on the wheel. Then the alcohol got the best of him. Jason got overconfident.
Jason couldn’t negotiate a well-marked, sharp, left turn and the Bronco’s stability control wasn’t going to save his ass. He went straight ahead and got some air. His pucker-factor was at a 10! He landed on all fours going down a tumbleweed infested slope. Jason was screaming “FUUUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK OF FUCKS!” as he careened down the hill.
The derby-worthy ride ended and the Bronco came to a stop on another road – upright! Jason looked up the path he had just made and was amazed he was alive – let alone conscious! There were blue and red flashing lights coming from just around a bend in the road. FUCK! COPS!
Continue reading Dakota Human Resources – Chapter 01
Three Mounted Police Stories
Stories Of Different Mounted Cops, Booted, In Bondage And Fucked
3 – Leather Mirror
By Alex Ironrod
Copyright 2021; All rights reserved
I groaned, my arms chained at full stretch to the walls of the stall, my uniform being cut off my struggling body. What the fuck had happened? I’d only been stationed here in the mounted detachment armory for just over a week and this was my first night duty. At six feet and 200 lbs, I can usually take care of myself. I’d been patrolling the barn, and stopped to admire myself in the full-length mirror by the door.
Yes, the dark blue uniform fitted me snugly in all the right places and the tall black leather boots hugged my thighs tightly. The spurs reflected the light as I bent down to tighten one of the straps, when he struck the first blow across my shoulders. I fell to the floor and a follow-up kick to my balls from his boot really had me writhing in agony. He had me up against the wall, and one thick cuff locked round my left wrist immediately. Then he jerked me upright and yanked on the other arm.
The cuff was waiting – solid, over an inch thick, unyielding, and I hung helpless, as he kicked my legs apart and chained each of them to metal supports in the floor. Two rapid-fire punches to my stomach and face immobilized me further, but my helmet protected my head itself.
Continue reading Mounted Cops – Part 3
By Alex Ironrod
This story contains adult-oriented material, involving sexually explicit, non-consensual behavior between men.
Copyright 2021 by Alex Ironrod. All rights reserved.
This story is posted here with permission.
Jack Thomson was pissed off, pissed at himself. He’d done in the transmission of his car on a rock sticking out of the dirt on the back road. It was his own fault for showing off to Mary-Louise. He’d invited her to the parade at Texas A & M, and he’d dressed up in his cavalry uniform – khaki breeches with a wide flare, spit-polished brown boots and his uncle’s Prince of Wales spurs, with new straps – his right as a senior. He knew his 6’ frame looked good in the khaki shirt, tie and the Sam Browne belt; he’d strutted round the parade ground with his boot cleats ringing loudly and his campaign hat at just the right angle.
Mary-Louise had been properly impressed, according to his best friend, Tim Dixon, and so he’d stayed in uniform to drive her back home in the hills outside College Station. They’d made out in the back of his Chevy, but he had to be back for duty by 7pm, so he’d cut it short, and, following her directions, tried the short cut through the dry and dusty hills back to college. Now it was late afternoon; he was stuck, and he hadn’t bothered to tell Tim or the others where he was going. He kicked at the tire with his boot in exasperation.
“You need some help?” a voice helloed from behind him. Jack swung round; a man sat a tall horse on the nearby hill. “Got a problem with your car?” “Yes, sir, wrecked the transmission.” “Hold on,” and the man urged the stallion down the slope and trotted towards him. Jack watched him approach and dismount with a jingle of spurs.
Continue reading An ‘Aggie’ Man and the Texas Ranger – Part 1
Oliver is excited to be in Scoutmaster Fantana’s office to take the Pledge of the Elite Scout, but after he delivers his oath of duty and obedience, he’s told to remove his clothes, and a thorough inspection follows.
See the VIDEO at Scoutboys.com
Title of this video: The Pledge
By Alex Ironrod © 2021
PART TWO – INITIATION
With my violated and beaten ass and aching arms, I made it back on my bike to my apartment in town. I pulled off my high black boots, stripped off my once shining leathers and took a long hot shower. It didn’t wash away the memory of my rape and I brooded in silence. What could I do alone to get my revenge? How could I get close to the leather-shirted Sergeant Tyrell and learn his tricks and his weaknesses?
Gradually a plan of action emerged. I would join the Highway Patrol and become a motor cop. With luck and careful planning, I could meet Tyrell again and I would take it from there. After all, I knew all about bikes; I’d been riding them for almost ten years, and my three-year military experience should count for something. I gave up my computer sales job and got ready.
I spit-polished my boots until they gleamed, put on a fresh pressed shirt and pants, slung my leather jacket round my shoulders, walked into the nearest Highway Patrol station – and signed on. It was easier than I dared to hope, with my existing background paving the way. Soon after I was called up to the Academy for training.
Continue reading Black Leather Cops and Revenge – Part 2