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Story

My Trip to Paris – Chapter 07

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By Joshua Ryan

Chapter 7:  Everyone’s Dream Is a House of His Own

The three months were over, and it was a Sunday—time to celebrate the end of Training Team.  The 16 convicts in my cell spent the day cleaning every inch of it, so we would leave it, as 7930 said, “much better than you found it.”  Sergeant Wong came to inspect the cell, found problems invisible to us, and made us spend two more hours on “tidying up.”  When he returned, the place had been re-cleaned, our bunks had been stripped, our gear had been piled on top of them, ready to travel, and we had dressed up in fresh uniforms, ready for our final inspection.  Several of us needed to straighten our shirts or hitch up our pants or screw our caps more firmly onto our heads, but finally, with shoulders squared and eyes gazing resolutely forward, we left our barracks and marched to the Parade Ground, where Colonel Bridger was waiting to review us.

I don’t understand why I was so shocked.  I knew he was running the place.  I no longer assumed that was a good thing.  I did hope I would never have to encounter him, that he would never see me in my convict suit with my number and picture clipped to my chest.  Wrong again.

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Daily Thread

A new cop reports for his physical

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When new cop Blaze reports to Don for his physical, the first and only thing the horny doc needs to check is the cop’s tight rosy ass. He massages and runs a finger along the crack and dives in for a taste. Oh but then there IS that tonsil test performed by sticking a tongue down in. There’s a gag reflex check as Don fucks into Blaze’s wide-open throat, and he passes that with flying colors. These muscular studs are horny and uncensored in big tight closeups.

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Story

Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 20

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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.”

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Story

Island Paradise – Part 2: Chapter 07

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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.

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Story

Dakota Human Resources – Chapter 01

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By CFlex

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!

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Story

Mounted Cops – Part 3

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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.

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