By David Sellers

Part 1

“You’re going to be locked in here,” Roger says, slowly stroking my cock as he looks into my eyes, “while I sleep in your bed, with your husband. But first he’s going to fuck me. Then I’m going to fall asleep in your husband’s arms and you’re still going to locked in here, helpless and miserable, because your sadistic husband allows his sadistic boyfriend to do this to you. He lets me put you away like this, lock you up like this, you pathetic fuck.”

That’s usually what Roger says — or something close to it — before he snaps the blindfold to the hood. I’m already gagged, laced tight in a sleepsack, and strapped down to the bondage board in the playroom my husband and I built a few years before we met Roger.

Roger will sit there for another minute or two after I’m blindfolded, stroking my cock, until I’m about to come, and then he’ll stop. That’s one of Roger’s Rules: I’m not allowed to come when he’s in the house. And he’s in the house a lot these days. He’ll sometimes set a pair of his underwear, sweaty from the gym, over my face before he leaves, so I can smell him while my husband fucks him. Then I hear him walk away and close the door and lock one of its two deadbolt locks. A moment later I hear the other deadbolt click. Roger installed both locks on the door; our playroom door didn’t have a lock before Roger came along. Roger has a key to one of the deadbolts, my husband has a key to the other. The second lock click means my husband walked up to the door, knowing I was already strapped down, gagged, and blindfolded, and turned his key — without opening the door, without checking on me, without asking me if I’m okay.

Two locks, two keys: that way I don’t get out until they both want me out.

Roger used to put in earbuds before he hooded me. He would set some loud trance dance music on repeat before he left. That way I couldn’t hear anything—he thought he was being mean. I told Roger, one night when just he and I out went out for a drink and a “check-in” talk, that the music actually made it a little easier on me. It made me space out and float away, even fall sleep. It was far more torturous to be able to hear them … well, not quite fuck. I couldn’t hear that. But I could hear them walk around, walk past the door to the playroom, one or the other or both of them, on their way to the bathroom to shower, or down to the kitchen to get something to eat after sex. I could hear them talking, sometimes laughing, without being able to make out what they were saying. And every time I heard one of them walk by the double-locked door I would start to get my hopes up—maybe they were coming to let me out. Better not to hear them walking around at all than to hear them get closer, start to get my hopes up, and then be crushed when I didn’t hear the door open. Better to have music.

There hasn’t been music — not once – since the night I stupidly admitted to Roger that the music made it all a little easier on me.

Last time I was in the tied up in playroom — last night when I was tied up in the playroom — the locks turned, one right after the other, and then I heard Roger and my husband walk into the playroom. I could hear them kissing. Then someone took my cock out and began to stroke it. I exhaled, pushed against the restraints, and moaned. My bound-body language was clear: I wanted out. Then I heard Roger’s voice: “Nope, not now. You’re not getting out yet, you’re not getting off yet. We’ll be back for you in the morning, you sick fuck.”

They were stroking my cock so they could put an external catheter on me — a condom with some adhesive at the base and a tube running out of it. I wasn’t getting out — this one would be an all-nighter — but they didn’t want me to piss all over myself and ruin the new sleepsack. When I started to moan, clearly unhappy, Roger asked if I was in pain. Was anything numb? Was I uncomfortable?

No, I grunted. I just wanted out.

“Shut up, you sick fuck,” Roger said, “You love this. You can kneel between your husband’s legs and beat off about it tomorrow. But any more complaints, any moaning and groaning, any bullshit grunting that makes us get out of bed and come in here, and I’ll make you drink your stale piss in the morning before I let you out.”

Then they left, double-locking the door again.

Fuckers.

***

My husband and I have been together for 12 years. I’m 40, he’s 35. (We’re Canadian, so we’re legally married.) I’ve always been into bondage. My husband, however, was completely vanilla when we met. At first I topped him. But pretty soon it became obvious that he preferred being the bondage top. And he was really good at it. Bondage tapped into two personality traits of his that had complicated both of his previous (and brief) relationships: he’s pretty selfish sexually (he likes to be serviced) and he likes to have a lot of “alone time.” After he realized that bondage gave him all the “alone time” he wanted, he started tying me up. A lot. It wasn’t always sexual for him — sometimes he just wanted to be alone so he could read, or listen to music, or paint without having to make small talk or feel bad for not wanting to make small talk.

That’s when we made our spare bedroom into a playroom.

Whenever my husband wanted to be alone after the playroom was built, he would pull me inside or tell me to go there and wait for him. Then he’d tie me up and leave. When he wanted to get off, he’d come in, take the gag out, fuck my face until he blew a load, then gag me again, before going back to whatever he was doing. Sometimes he would jerk me off while I was tied up but he usually preferred to untie me and either have me fuck him or have me kneel between his legs and beat off as he sat on the edge of the cage and talked dirty to me.

My husband calls this kind of bondage — long-term, intense, immobilizing — “storage.” He actually calls our playroom “the storeroom.” It always made me horny and frustrated when he put me away. My formerly vanilla husband now admits to having a sadistic streak. He likes to make me suffer. He gets off on it — he gets off on what I’m willing to endure to be with him.

We worked up to storage sessions that lasted four hours, but that was my limit. (And, yes, we know you’re not supposed to leave a tied up person alone, but he was always around when I was stored, and he would check on me, and he got—no shit—a baby monitor for our storeroom, and we had a “grunt pattern” safeword that signaled distress.)

But four hours was the max I could take. Until Roger came along.

Part 2

About eighteen months ago we had a threeway with Roger, a twenty-something nurse who used to date one of my husband’s coworkers. The sex with Roger, that first time, was completely vanilla—and completely amazing. Roger has a hot body, a killer smile, and medium-length brown hair. And he loved to be fucked. The second time he came over we told him about our bondage gear and our playroom — which has a sling, a fuckbench, and a cage in addition to the bondage board—but Roger wasn’t into it. He didn’t even want to see it. More vanilla sex, more threeways. Roger and my husband hit it off. They began to spend a lot of time together when I was out of town. (I travel for work once or twice a month.) About a year ago my husband asked me if it was okay for Roger to be — to think of himself as, to tell people he was — my husband’s boyfriend.

That was fine, I said.

There was more.

Roger didn’t want to have threeways anymore. When my husband wanted to have sex with Roger—and he wanted to have sex with Roger a lot — it would just be the two of them. From now on I would be stored when Roger came over.

When I hesitated, thinking about what this would mean for “us,” my husband leaned in and grabbed my dick. It was hard.

“I’ll take that as your consent,” my husband said.

After that talk my husband would put me away whenever Roger was on his way. It was never more than once or twice a week, and we — my husband and I — were still having lots of sex. But if my husband made plans to get together with Roger it didn’t matter what I was doing that night, or what I had to do that night, or what I wanted to do that night. Storage. And my husband would never tell me in advance that he’d made plans with Roger. He would just announce, “Go take a piss, if you need to, then strip and meet me in the storeroom. Roger’s coming.”

At first Roger didn’t want to see me, or see our playroom, or our gear. He was kind of in denial about it, and a little freaked out. But he was happy to have so much time alone with my husband. One day he took a peek in the playroom when I was already stored away. Then he started hanging out in the playroom with my husband if I was completely stored by the time he arrived. He would sit on top of the cage on the other side of the room, smiling and rolling his eyes, as my husband put me into the leather sleepsack, laced it up, strapped me to our bondage board, gagged and hooded me, and finally set the baby monitor on my chest.

Then one day Roger helped with the straps.

A few weeks later I came home and Roger was in the house. My husband wasn’t. They had a date to fuck — and hang out and have dinner and watch a movie. That meant I would be going into storage for the evening. Roger offered to put me away himself before my husband got home. I had to talk him through it. When I was completely immobilized, and gagged but not blindfolded, Roger unzipped the crotch of the sleepsack and pulled out my cock. I was, of course, rock hard. Roger pulled out his own cock. He was hard too.

“My first bondage boner,” Roger said. Then he looked down at me. “Bet you wish you still got to fuck me,” he said, with an exaggerated frown. “But my ass isn’t for you. Never again. It’s all for your hubby.”

My cock throbbed in Roger’s hand.

“You sick fuck,” Roger said, laughing. It was the first time he called me that. Now that’s all he ever calls me.

As with my boyfriend a dozen years before, a sadism was wakening in Roger. He was starting to like bondage too — but in a very limited way. What was sexy about bondage, Roger explained during one of our check-in sessions, was that it meant he was going to getting it on with my husband. It was a Pavlovian association—only it was me in bondage, and not a ringing bell, that got Roger going. It meant he was about to get fucked. Not just that, but he was going to have my husband all to himself for a while. He didn’t want to get tied up himself, he didn’t want to tie anyone else up. But he loved tying me up.

Within a month Roger was doing all of the storing.

Roger’s a nurse and he works a four-days-on/three-days-off schedule. I work from home, my husband keeps regular office hours. Once Roger took over storage duties he began swinging by before my husband got off work to put me away. I’d be completely stored by 6 PM, shortly before my husband would get home, and usually released at 10 PM. If Roger had left, my husband would allow me to beat off right away. If he was still in the house, I had to wait until Roger left.

So much had changed — except for one thing.

The four-hour barrier had yet to be broken.

***

Six months ago my husband called me into the storeroom. Roger was already in there, sitting on the edge of the cage. My husband was standing by the door. He told me to kneel on the floor in front of Roger.

We had to get past the four-hour barrier, my husband stated flatly. He and Roger wanted to do overnights — they wanted to start spending the night together — and I would have to be stored away. I suggested the cage. I could easily spend the night in the cage. Roger said no. The cage wasn’t good enough. They didn’t want me jerking off. They also didn’t want it to be easy. They both got off on knowing that storage was hard for me. My suffering played a big part in their dirty talk, my husband said, as Roger smirked down at me.

“So it’s not for nothing,” Roger said. “Your pain and suffering serves an important purpose.”

There was more: Roger had also installed two deadbolt locks on the playroom that day, with two different keys. One was on Roger’s keyring, the other was on my husband’s. From now on I would only get out when they both wanted me out.

“And I don’t have a lot of incentive to let you out,” Roger said, smiling. “I would prefer that you never got out.”

My husband walked over to the cage, sat down beside Roger, and kissed him—my husband kissed his boyfriend.

There would be one concession made for my comfort: a new sleepsack. The leather one we had been using for nearly a decade would sometimes bunch and fold when the straps were tightened. Those folds would dig into my skin. What was a mild discomfort at hour one would be driving me insane by hour four. My husband said that he had ordered a neoprene sleepsack and some new, wider leather straps for securing it the bondage board. It would be smoother and tighter—no folds, a little more comfortable.

“When does it come?” I asked.

“It’s here already,” my husband said. “You’re going in it tonight. For six hours. Just two extra hours. You can take it. We’ll work up to nine.”

“Nine by the end of the month,” Roger quickly added. “We’re working up to nine hours — overnight storage — by the end of this month.”

It was March 21st. The end of the month was coming right up.

I sat in silence for a minute, looking up at my husband. He could tell what I was thinking.

“I’m not asking you if this is okay,” he said. “This is happening whether you’re okay with it or not. Because this is what I want.”

“And it’s what I want,” said Roger. “Two against one. Majority rules.”

My husband turned to Roger.

“Put my husband away,” he said. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

My husband turned and left the room without looking back at me.

“You really can’t say no to him, can you?” Roger asked, as he gestured for me to take my clothes off.

“No,” I said, “I really can’t.”

“Then you’re really fucked,” Roger continued. “Because you know who your husband can’t say no to? He can’t say no to me.”

I told Roger I had to piss. I didn’t. I just wanted to catch my husband in the bathroom, I wanted to talk to him for a minute, alone. Roger handed me an empty water bottle.

“Piss in that,” Roger said.

I forced myself to piss as Roger spread the new neoprene sleepsack out on the bondage board. Roger smiled—he had such a beautiful, disarming smile; he looked so damned innocent—and then he patted the bondage board. I climbed up and slipped into the new sleepsack. Roger zipped it up.

“Your husband lied to you just now,” said Roger as he began buckling the straps that pressed my body down into the bondage board. “This isn’t what he wants. You be stored overnight. It’s what I want. He fought me on it. He said you couldn’t do this overnight. But I kept asking until he gave in.”

Roger took his shirt off and stared down at me.

“Guess that means your husband would rather see you suffer than disappoint me,” Roger said.

Roger pulled out a hood. It was a new neoprene hood with a detachable gag and blindfold. He started to work it over my head.

He looked down at me, for a moment, after the hood was one. The gag and blindfold attachments were in his hand.

“You’re a good looking man,” he said. “I would’ve gone for you. Your husband is way hotter — you know that, right?”

I nodded.

“Six hours,” I said, as Roger moved to put the gag in my mouth.

“Six hours,” Roger repeated, as he buckled the gag in place. “Unless I forget to the set the alarm and we wind up sleeping in.”

I gave him a panicked look. He reached down and felt my cock.

“Your big dick is your worst enemy,” Roger said. “You’re so fucking hard. We should leave you hear nine hours tonight.”

The blindfold snapped on. I heard Roger walk to the door. I heard the door open. I heard the door close. I heard one lock click.

I heard the other lock click.

That meant they were both standing outside the door. Together. Roger shirtless, my husband in just a towel, probably, fresh out of the shower and soaking wet. They were probably kissing again. I heard Roger laugh. Then I heard his voice from the other side of the door. He was speaking loudly.

He was in my husband’s arms, but he was talking to me.

“You better get used to this, you sick fuck,” Roger said. “Because I’m thinking about moving in.”

To be continued …

By Aussielthrbiker

Part 1

I met Matthew during my first week at uni and discovered, much to my pleasure, that he was in all the same lectures as me.  He was a surfer type, 6 foot, athletic build, with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

At the end of lectures on Friday afternoon, he asked if I would like to drop by his place for a coffee.  I lived in a dorm on campus; Matthew shared a house with two other students about 10 minutes walk off campus.  He explained that his house mates, Nick and Brad had gone away for the weekend.  When we arrived, he gave me the tour of the house – it was your typical student house, a bit run down and filled with assorted non-matching furniture.

He pointed out Nick’s bedroom, the most noticeable feature of which was a floor to ceiling wardrobe covering one wall, with huge sliding mirrored doors.  He beckoned me inside; “Hey take a look at this.”  He slid open one of the doors.  Inside was a large collection of leather jackets, pants and boots.  The smell of leather was incredible and I felt a bulge begin to form in my jeans.  “Nick would kill me if he knew I was going through his stuff but he’s away until Sunday afternoon.”

Matthew grabbed a black Brando style leather biker jacket and thew it to me, “Hey, let’s see what you look like in it.”  I put the jacket on, it felt great, it looked great and I admired myself in the mirror.  I had never worn a leather jacket before but had wanted one for a long time.  Next he pulled out a pair of black leather jeans and threw them to me.  “Now you’ve got the jacket on, let’s see how it looks with some jeans.”  “Are you sure this is OK, are you sure Nick isn’t going to walk in and bust us?”  I replied.  “Relax, I told you he’s away for the weekend.”  I took my sneakers and jeans off and pulled on the leather jeans, they fitted me perfectly!  Matthew then grabbed a studded belt and a pair of black harness boots and handed them to me, “Let’s get that outfit complete.” He said.  I put on the belt and boots and looked at myself in the mirror – it looked and felt so good!

Matthew continued to rummage through the wardrobe pulling out a black padded biker leather jacket, black lace side leather jeans, a belt with a cowboy style buckle and black engineer boots.  He proceeded to put these on and stood beside me.  It was a sight to behold, the two of us in hot black leather!

All of a sudden we saw four figures in the mirror behind us, all dressed in coloured motorcycle touring leathers.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my bedroom?”  Nick came up behind Matthew twisting his arm up behind his back.  Another came up behind me twisting my arm in the same manner.  “Grab a couple of chairs from the kitchen, these boys need to be taught a lesson.”  It all happened so suddenly; we were struck dumb.

The other two arrived back with two wooden chairs and we were pushed down onto them.  Rope appeared from nowhere and the two not holding us down proceeded to tie us to the chairs.  They started by tying our hands behind our backs steadily adding more rope around our ankles, knees, waists and chests so that we were tied securely.  Nick walked over to the wardrobe and grabbed a couple of leather straps – they turned out to be plug style gags, which he buckled into our mouths.  The plugs were huge, completely filling our mouths; they did a very good job of gagging us.

The four walked out.  “We’ll be back later when we have worked out a suitable punishment for you.”

Matthew and I struggled with the ropes but these boys knew exactly what they were doing – there was no way we were going to escape.  We tried to call out but the only thing to come through these gags was a muffled “mmph.”  I wondered what punishment was in store for us.  While scared about the punishment, I found myself incredibly turned on by being tightly bound in tight leather looking into a full length mirror ay myself and the very cute surfer boy Matthew in the same predicament.  I felt a bulge form in the tight leather of the jeans and noticed the same thing was happening to Matthew.

Part 2

I have no idea how long Matthew and I were left tied up in Nick’s bedroom.  One thing was certain; these boys knew how to tie ropes!  Matthew and I both struggled to free ourselves but we didn’t manage to loosen them.  I tried to get the gag out of my mouth but to no avail.  The feeling of helplessness was incredible and it was certainly turning me on!  With the full length mirror in front of us we could watch ourselves and each other helplessly tied and gagged in leather, struggling in vain.

Nick, Brad and their two friends returned to the room.  They had swapped their motorcycle touring leathers for black leather biker jackets, black leather chaps worn over faded black jeans and harness boots.

“It’s time now for the first part of your punishment.”  Black cloth hoods were pulled over our heads and pulled tight around our necks with drawstrings – these blocked out all light.  Next I was untied from the chair but my wrists and ankles remained tied.  I was picked up and carried out of the room over one of the boys’ shoulders using a fireman’s lift; I could feel the leather of his jackets against mine.  Next I felt myself being put down and felt the shape of Matthew beside me.  I heard the hatchback of a van close and an engine start.  It seemed that we were driven some distance but I had no idea of direction as it seemed we were following a very circuitous route.

The van stopped and I heard the door open again.  I was picked up and carried inside a building, again over one of the boys’ shoulders.  I was put down and heard the clank of a metal gate closing and being locked.  My hood was then removed and I saw I was in a small cage in the basement of a building.  Matthew was in a similar cage beside me.  There was enough room to sit up, but not enough to stretch out.

Two of the boys came in carrying two dog bowls each, which were placed in each cage through slots in the ends of the cages.  One bowl contained water, the other, some sort of stew.  “Your gags will now be removed but if you make any sound, they will be replaced and you will not get an opportunity to eat or drink.”  The gags were removed and I looked at the two bowls in my cage.  I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and was famished.  While it was humiliating to have to eat and drink like a dog, I figured I had no choice in the matter.  I saw that Matthew had come to the same conclusion.

When we had finished eating and drinking, our gags were re-inserted.  Shortly after, my cage was unlocked, my ankles untied and I was taken out of the room.  I was unsteady at first on my feet as my ankles had been tied now for several hours.  I was taken into a bathroom were I was able to relieve myself – quite a challenge with my hands still tied.  My hands were then untied and I was stripped naked, however, the gag was left in place.   I was grabbed on each side and led outside to a courtyard where there were two sets of stocks next to each other.  At the top was a “classic” set of neck and wrist stocks, at ground level was another set to lock on the ankles leaving the detainee in a standing position.  While I tried to struggle free, I was well and truly outclassed.  One set of stocks was opened; my neck and wrists were forced in and the stocks closed and locked.  The second set was locked around my ankles.

A few minutes later, Matthew was brought out and secured the same was as me – we were still gagged.  Once we were secured a couple of dozen guys dressed the same way as our captors entered the courtyard.  I heard Nick’s voice; “Boys, let the fun begin.”

We were then bombarded with all manner of rotten fruit – my mind was turned back to my history books of the use of stocks in the 18th and 19th centuries.  From time to time there would be a “ceasefire” when our faces would be cleaned, by dumping a bucket of cold water over us, before the bombardment would re-commence.  In addition, we had guys come up to us playing with out tits, cocks and balls.  Some would try to jerk us off, others would suck us off.  I realised that I had a raging hard on throughout this.

Finally our tormentors left.  Nick, Brad and their two friends came over and gave us a final cleaning up.  They unlocked Matthew first and took him away.  A few minutes later they came back for me.  I was taken to a bedroom where I saw Matthew, still naked, on his side, with his hands tied above his head to the top of the bed, his ankles were tied to the bottom.  He was now wearing a black leather g-string.  My hands were tied in front of me and I was pushed onto the bed facing Matthew.  My hands were tied off to the top of the bed, a black leather g-string was placed on me and my ankles were tied to the bottom of the bed.  Further ropes were added tying us together around our waists.  “Sweet dreams” and with that we were left on our own.

I gazed into Matthew’s piercing blue eyes and found my gaze returned.  I longed to kiss him but was prevented from doing so by the gag.  I felt his firm warm body against mine and felt his rock hard cock through the g-string.

Part 3

It was difficult to sleep tied up in this position but I must have drifted off eventually.

I felt disoriented when I woke, wondering where I was and why I couldn’t move, why I couldn’t speak – all of a sudden the whole awful truth dawned on me.  I was bound to a bed and gagged in an unknown location.  I struggled against the ropes but they were still holding firm.  I tried to cry out but the leather plug gag silenced by screams.  As my eyes blinked open, I could make out Matthew’s form in the bed right next to me.  He woke at the same time and returned my gaze with his piercing blue eyes.  I felt my cock was still rigid.

I heard the door open and saw Nick, Brad and their two friends enter the room.  They were dressed as they had been last night, black leather jackets, black leather chaps, faded black jeans and harness boots.  “I see the boys are awake, time for the next stage.”

Matthew was untied first – although the gag was left in place.  He was told to dress in the same leathers that had gotten us into trouble yesterday – black leather lace side jeans, cowboy buckle belt, black padded leather biker jacket and engineer boots but no t-shirt or underwear.  He was handcuffed in front with very heavy looking handcuffs (I later learned these were German Clejuso cuffs) and leg ironed.  A black leather collar with several D rings was buckled around his neck; a leash was attached to one of the D rings and he was led out of the room.

A few minutes later they came back for me.  I was untied and also made to dress in yesterday’s leathers.  Black leather Brando jacket, black leather jeans, studded belt and harness boots.  It felt wonderful to dress in leather again – without a t-shirt and underwear it was a whole new experience!  Like Matthew I was cuffed with the heavy handcuffs and leg ironed.  The handcuffs were amazing, they were very heavy and left you in no doubt that you were a captive. The leg irons were also fairly heavy and made running out of the question.  The feeling of captivity was heightened by the collar buckled around my neck.  A leash was added to the collar and I was led out of the room to another room where Matthew was already seated at a table set for breakfast.  I was pushed into a chair opposite.  Our gags were removed and we were invited to eat but not speak.  While breakfast passed silently Matthew and I exchanged many glances.  He was so hot, dressed in leather and handcuffed.

After breakfast we were gagged again and leashes were attached to our collars.  Two of the boys led Matthew off, the other two led me.  I was taken to the bathroom where I was able to use the toilet (a challenge with handcuffs!)  My gag was removed and a black leather hood was tightly laced onto my head – the plug gag was then added.  The leather hod felt amazing, cutting off all light, leaving me feeling disoriented.  As soon as the gag had been added I was led away.

I must have been led around in circles, I seemed to be walking for ages and had no idea of which direction I was going.  I was finally pushed into a corner and a cage door was closed on me.  The two walls and the cage door formed a triangular “prison,” which forced me to remain standing.  One of my handcuffs was unlocked and my hands were pulled through the bars of the cage door, then the cuff was relocked so my hands were locked on the outside.  I couldn’t raise them as movement was stopped by a cross bar, I couldn’t lower them as I was unable to bend down.  My fly was then undone and my cock pulled out of my leather jeans – I was still rock hard!

I felt a lubed hand start to jerk me off – I was dying to cum but just when I was on the brink of coming, the jerk off stopped.  I heard footsteps walking away.  I tried to reach my cock but the way I was handcuffed stopped me from reaching it.  Again I had no idea of the passing of time.  I was left alone for some time before hearing return footsteps.  Again I was jerked off but it stopped just before I could cum.  This was done to me several times over what seemed to be hours.  All through this time my cock remained rock hard.

Again I heard footsteps – this time one of my handcuffs was unlocked, my hands pushed back into the cage and relocked.  The cage door was opened and I was led to another point in the room.  I felt a heavy chain clipped onto my collar.  A strap was fastened around each arm at elbow level.  This was joined by another strap which was then tightly fastened behind my back pinioning my arms.  I was a bit unsteady on my feet and found myself stumbling forwards, backwards and sideways.  The chain attached to my collar was hanging from the roof and allowed me some movement in each direction before I would be stopped.  While all this was going on, someone would jerk me off but again I was not allowed to come, alternatively someone would reach inside my jacket and start to squeeze my tits.  Every time this would happen I would try to move away but would quickly find myself at the end of my chain.  At least I managed not to fall over.  There were also times I would be left for long periods.  The hood blocked out all light, its tightness leaving me disoriented.  The gag prevented me from calling out.

Once again I had no idea of how much time had passed, although it must have been a long time I was feeling very hungry by this time.  The strap pinioning my arms was removed, one of my handcuffs was unlocked and relocked with my hands behind my back.  The chain was removed from my collar and replaced with a leash.  I was led on another circuitous route before being forced onto the floor – I realised I was being put back in the cage I had been in last night.  My gag and hood were removed and again I was warned to remain silent.  I blinked at the light as I had been hooded for some hours.  I looked to my right and saw Matthew in the cage beside me, looking as cute as ever in full black leathers and handcuffed.  In front of me were dog bowls of food and water.  I ate hungrily and saw Matthew do the same.  When we were finished we were again gagged.  The boys bade us goodnight I realised we were going to remain caged for the night.

Part 4

The feeling of captivity in the cage was incredible.  I was in tight black leather, my hands cuffed behind my back with heavy handcuffs.  My ankles were secured with leg irons.  A leather gag filled my mouth preventing me from calling out; the collar around my neck completed the feeling of helplessness.  In the cage next to me was the very cute Matthew identically dressed and restrained.  I hard a raging hard on and longed to cum!  I had no idea when or if I would ever be free again.

I drifted off to sleep at some time as the next thing I recall was being woken up by the sound of the cage door being opened.  A leash was attached to my collar and I was led to the bathroom.  There a chain was padlocked around my neck, and my hands were recuffed in front of me.  I was then allowed to use the toilet – which was rather welcome as I realised my bladder was rather full.  After this my hands were again cuffed behind my back and I was returned to my cage.  Matthew was then taken out of his cage, presumably also to use the bathroom.

Once Matthew was returned to his cage, dog bowls of food and water were placed in the cages in front of us.  Before our gags were removed we were again warned not to speak, however, once the gags were removed Matthew started to scream out; “Just who the f**k do you think you are..”  At that moment two of the boys reached into our cages grabbing our collars, choking us.  “Wrong answer boy, you have two choices, eat breakfast quietly or your gags go back in now!  Now are you going to cooperate?”  We meekly nodded our agreement at which point our collars were released and we ate breakfast in silence, after which we were again gagged.

Next the cage doors were opened and we were led on leashes to a room in the basement.  It consisted of plain concrete walls, roof and floor.  Chains coming from either side and the roof of the room were attached to the d-rings on our collars preventing us from moving.  The boys then started to remove our boots and leather jeans leaving us naked from the waist down.  Our leg irons were removed and spreader bars were attached to our ankles, which were in turn attached to chains coming from the sides of the room.  I still had a raging hard on and could see that Matthew was similarly hard.  Our handcuffs were then removed and our leather jackets removed but before we could do anything, leather cuffs were buckled to our wrists and attached to further chains coming from the side of the room, stretching our arms out.  The boys then started spreading some sort of cream on our bodies covering every square millimetre from the neck down.

We were then left alone for a bout 15 minutes.  In this time Matthew and I stared longingly at each other, I wanted this ordeal to be over and to go and hug his beautiful body.  The boys returned with wet towels with which they proceed to rub us down, removing every last trace of body hair we had!  Next one produced a set of clippers and started to remove Matthew’s beautiful blond hair.  We both tried to scream out through our gags and Matthew struggled but was held firm.  When all of Matthew’s hair was gone, it was my turn to lose my hair.  I really felt defeated!

We were again left alone for about 15 minutes to take in each other’s naked, hairless state and I found Matthew strangely sexy with his new look.  The boys reappeared carrying some very heavy looking chains, consisting of iron collar, wrist and leg irons all attached by chains.  We were locked into these and removed from the chains holding us to the walls and roof of the room.  We were led out of the room – walking was difficult and there was only a few centimetres of chain separating the leg irons.

We were led back up to the garage where we were pushed into the back of a van and black cloth hood were placed over our heads and tied off around our necks with a drawstring.  We were driven around for a considerable amount of time before the van stopped and we were led out.  Our hoods were then removed and we found ourselves in a corridor lined to one side with prison type cells, each one only just large enough to take a man standing, a barred door was on the front of each cell.  Most of the cells were occupied with naked men around our age.  All had been shaved, all were gagged and all were chained as we were.  We were led to the remaining empty cells, pushed inside and the doors locked.

A few minutes later a crowd of leather clad men started walking up and down the corridor checking out each of the boys.  I heard one say to another; “I wonder how much this one will go for,” and I heard other similar comments.  It sounded like we were up for sale, no it couldn’t possibly…

The crowds cleared and I heard two cell doors open.  I could here the clank of chains of two boys being led away but could not see what was happening.  Silence then descended on the cells, punctuated by the rattling of the chains we all wore.  Some time later four men came back; they were dressed in black leather from head to foot/.  Their faces were hidden by executioner style black leather hoods.  They opened both my and Matthew’s cells and led us away.  Chained as we were, we could offer no resistance.  We were led to an area behind a curtain where there were two wooden St Andrew’s crosses.  Our chains were removed and we were strapped to the crosses.  Once we were secured the curtain was opened to reveal a small auditorium filled with men in black leather.

I heard a voice of sound over a PA, “Next we have lots 3 and 4, Simon and Matthew.  These boys are 18 and university students, they will make excellent slaves for any master, let’s start the bidding.”

My god, we were being sold as slaves!  I tried to scream out but of course was prevented by the gag.  I struggled against the straps holding me to the cross but I was well and truly secured, I was however, rock hard!  Matthew was also struggling and was also hard.

I was first to be auctioned and I heard the bids progressively rise until no more bids came in and the auctioneer dropped his hammer.  I was left strapped to the cross while Matthew was also auctioned.

When the bidding was finished our buyers were invited to come forward.  My buyer looked like a leather clad surfer dude with blond hair and blue eyes.  Matthew’s buyer was a similar build but with black hair and brown eyes.

We were removed from the crosses and chained again with the same chains were had been brought in wearing.  Leashes were clipped to our iron collars and we were led outside.  Some of the “guards” who had brought us to the auction room from our cells came along to assist.  My buyer opened the boot of his car, pushed me inside and closed the lid.  I heard the car start and drive away.

I was woken by the sound of a radio.  I opened my eyes and realised I was in bed, in my dorm room.  I looked over and the clock read 7am.  I moved my arms and legs, I was free!  I saw a piece of paper under the clock radio and picked it up, it read…

Dear slave,

I have returned you to your dorm as it is important that you continue your studies.  You will however note that there is a chain locked around your neck to remind you and anyone else that you are my property (I felt around my neck, there was a light weight chain secured by a padlock).  I have also locked you in a chastity belt.  It will be unnoticeable under clothes but will prevent anyone but me getting access to cock.  (I felt down, my cock was encased in a metal tube attached by a padlock to a ring behind my ball sack).  Don’t think about telling anyone about this, you are being watched, not all the time but you will never know when.  You will get instructions from me from time to time and these will be obeyed without question.  Now get out of bed and get to class and wait for further instructions.

Master”

THE END

To read more stories from this author, click here.

By Catdude

The box sat in the middle of the room, nothing about it all that distinctive. The only thing that would draw attention to it where it placed next to another wooden box was the hooded head that poked out of a hole in the top. The hood that could be seen at a casual glance was a English s10 gasmask, it had been modified so that instead of straps at the back it was the front part of a rubber hood.

The boy actually wearing the hood however was very much aware of the fact that that was only the icing on the top of a very kinky cake. First he had earphones in, they were connected to an iphone that was on auto answer and also through a number of apps had its playlist controlled by a nearby computer that was itself being controlled by outside sources, a webcam with a little red light on the top showed that someone, or in this case many someone’s were enjoying the situation, the same web group was also selecting the playlist songs that were being sent through the headphones, there was simple white noise, a gentle background hiss that along with the three layers of hoods blocked all noise, other selections however also included the sound tracks from porn movies, grunting and moans and general unmistakable noise of men having sex filled the boys ears. Also on the list were a number of conditioning mp3’s recorded messages in his SIR’s voice telling him how he was to obey, that his servitude was expected. Over the top of the earphones was a open face hood, one of SIR’s socks that he had worn the day before was stuffed in his mouth, then a meter or rubber bondage tape wrapped around to keep it in place,  then a full face hood with only eye hole, then finally the gasmask.

What was happening inside the box couldn’t be seen by the camera, the inside of the box consisted of a simple bench and some restraint points, the ones on the floor were in use, the boy was in 20hole ranger boots, these in turn were chained to the heavy rings bolted into the bottom of the box, resting between the boys boots was another iphone plugged into a set of speakers, the speakers sat next to a elctro unit, no technology aloud long distance operation of the electro unit, but if it was set to microphone input and then the phone linked with the comp allowing it to be activated when desired the boy could be shocked when the master desired, this phone was controlled by only one man though, the boys SIR.

The wires for the device led to a plug embedded deep in the boys ass, inserting it had required a training plug to be worn a hour beforehand and some deep breathing as he had eased himself onto it, it filled him very well, holding it in place was a pair of thick rubber shorts, a codpiece front aloud the boys genitals to poke through the front, over the top of the shorts was a rubber surfsuit, leaving the boys arms and legs bare, and again a front zip allowing the boys private bits to be exposed, over the top of this was a full length catsuit covering the remaining bare bits, over the top of the rubber catsuit was a rubber straightjacket. Even though all the layers aloud the boys cock and balls to be exposed, their freedom had been stopped by a birdlocked chastity devise, over the top of the entire devise a condom had been stretched, it was currently stretching down to the floor of the box, filled with the piss of the boy through the day. This would be collected and then a dice roll would determine its use. To be mixed with dirt to form piss mud for a facial mudpack, mixed with gelatin to form a piss jelly that would be served to boy after his dinner or used as a enema were just a few of the uses the boys SIR had found for the boys piss. SIR’s piss however only had one purpose, to go down the boys throat. It was kept in a beautiful glass jug in a small bar fridge in the garage, the jug had a mark on it if boy did not manage to keep SIR’s piss level under that mark then he would be VERY sorry.

Currently the boy was focused intently on the clock on the wall, his SIR had left for a morning brunch with some friends at 8am, leaving boy like this, the phone hooked to the earphones had rung and auto answer had relayed the message through to the bound boy, his SIR had causally said that he was catching up with some others for lunch and then a movie and should be home by three. The boys eyes were riveted to the clock on the wall showing the time as 2:55, though for all he knew his SIR had come home hours ago, or was sitting downstairs entertaining guests who had no idea what was happening above them.

The sounds of boots on the stairs were drowned out by all the hoods and earphones the boy had so he gave a little wiggle of happiness as the door to the room opened and his SIR strolled in, his SIR always wore leathers on the weekend, at night he slept in his leathers on leather sheets, but despite his SIR’s love of leather he was always happy to indulge his boys love of rubber. His SIR ignored him and strolled over to the computer and shut down the webcam and group access to the headphone for the phone. As he was doing this however a heavy techno song started playing on the speakers next to the electro unit, his SIR turned and leant against the table and smiled as he listened to the moans coming from the boy as the massive plug pulsed with electricity along with the beats of the song. Once the song ended he stepped forward and opened up the box, he unchained the boys feet and helped him stand, he removed the piss filled condom from around the chastity devise, the proximity of his leather clad SIR and contact with the devise made the boys cock try and grow in its small tight unmerciful prison, SIR smiled as he saw this knowing the discomfort it would cause the boy. He left the boy standing there for a little while, white noise still playing over the earphones. He returned with a one-piece leather bike suit. It was the boys, a few internal pockets and extra zip access points had been added to the suit. SIR removed the straightjacket and handed the leather suit to the boy. Getting the pants on over the boots was a slight struggle but the boy managed it. The phone connected to the earphones went in one of the internal pockets, SIR walked over to the computer again and the song changed from white noise to one of the conditioning recordings, the boys hot SIR’s voice filled boy’s ears. Telling him to release himself to SIR and obey. The electro unit went into another pocket and SIR attached the small remote unit for it to his keychain, he pushed a few buttons and a steady pulse of current started flowing through the plug, causing the boys ass to contract on each pulse, making the boy unwillingly fuck himself with the plug.

The boy and his SIR made their way into the garage, boy watched as SIR pulled the jug out of the fridge and piss in it before putting it back in the fridge, he had been putting boy in a lot of bondage lately and it was difficult for boy to find the free time to drink the piss in the jug to keep it below the mark, the boy suspected that SIR was intentionally making it hard for him.

After this was done his SIR handed the boy a helmet, it was boy’s special bike helmet, blacked out and the inside lined with leather, it had been SIR’s xmas present to boy the year before and boy had spent the next week carrying it everywhere with him like a little boy with a new teddy. The boy thought it was the best gift he had ever received. The boy pulled his helmet on and then SIR guided him over to bike, boy climbed onto the back and felt SIR get on in front of him, all of a sudden the bike roared to life and the boy groaned as the plug received even MORE stimulation.

The boy had no idea how long the ride went for or where they were going, clinging to his leather clad SIR in front of him feeling the vibrations of the bike add to the current flowing through the plug in his ass. In his sweaty leather/rubber prison, blind and deaf except for his SIR’s voice in his ears repeating over and over for boy to let go and serve.

A hour later the boy was strung between two trees, out in the middle of no-where, his arms stretched tight, the leather one piece was around his ankles, the catsuit and surfsuit ass zips were open, as was and the shorts had been pulled down enough for the plug to be pulled out, much to the boys relief. All the hoods and the helmet were still on the boy, suddenly he felt his SIR’s cock enter him. The boy struggled against his bonds as his tortured ass was invaded slowly by his SIR’s cock, then the fucking started, his SIR was capable of great tenderness but also great cruelty, he smashed his hips against the boys ass, driving his cock into the boy in long brutal strokes, full removing his cock and smacking the boys ass causing the boy to clench his ass in reflex then drive his cock against the boys sphincter till it parted and the boy screamed against the gag. Short brutal thrusts, pushing the boy forward so that his arms were strained in their sockets as the rope pulled them back in an unyielding restraint. Waves of pain and pleasure coursed through the boy, his body unable to decide if the sensation was the worst pain ever, or divine ecstasy,  he wanted to scream for mercy for his SIR to stop but he was helpless. He felt his ass fill with his SIR’s cock, he felt the sensation of the awesome piece of meat fill him, press against his prostate and send waves of pleasure through him. The fat head of his SIR’s cock stretching out his sphincter. The brutal abuse continued for some time till suddenly he felt his sir shudder and jerk uncontrollably against him and he knew that his SIR had finally cum. After what felt like a eternity. The visor of the helmet was lifted and he blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the light, they were in bush land, trees everywhere. But the boy only focused on one thing, the leather bound god of a man in front of him. Who was currently strapping on a massive black dildo to the front of his leather jeans, this was going to be a very long afternoon, he hoped he wouldn’t have to wear the plug on the way home.

The captive speaks:

I hung there exhausted between the trees, my ass was absolutely wrecked, SIR had spent a good half an hour going to town on me with his massive black strap on dildo. I was so grateful when SIR zipped up my surfsuit and catsuit and pulled my leather bike suit back up over my hips, he then released my arms and helped me shrug on the rest of the leather suit on. The bike ride back was half torture half ecstasy as the vibrations of the bike thrummed through my body and my wrecked ass, the earphones were playing the background to porno’s in my ear, but more sex was the last thing on my mind.

Once we were home SIR used the phone to call me and told me to strip out of my layers clean them and change for bed.

It felt great to finally get out of all the layers of rubber and to take the headphones off. I quickly got ready for bed. I pulled my leather bikesuit back on, this time though I had a pair of harness boots on instead of rangers. Heavy leather gauntlets were pulled on over the top. I walked over to the bed that SIR had gotten custom made, I admired the sexy black leather sheets, imaging my SIR asleep between them wearing his leathers made my cock twitch a little in its cage, I wondered when I would be allowed to cum next , it was frustrating as hell not being able to cum, but my frustration and horniness made SIR horny, he was talking about buying something more permanent, I sighed, sometimes serving SIR meant large sacrifices on my part, but for him, they were worth it. I glanced at the clock, I had about 20mins before my bedtime, if I finished this quickly I would be able to race downstairs and have a glass of piss before bed I knelt down beside the heavy wooden bed frame, there was a large drawer under the frame, I pulled it out to reveal a large leather padded trundle bed, also known as my bed, I grabbed the leather sleep sack out of the cupboard, since I had work tomorrow and need sleep I would only be put in the sleep sack and my leather bike suit, if it was a non work night I would also have two layers of rubber as well as electro and a large plug to look forward too.  Once the sleep sack was neatly laid out ready for me to wiggle into it I raced downstairs and quickly gulped down a glass of SIR’s cold piss, after a quick trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth to get the disgusting taste out of my mouth I went back into the bedroom and wiggled into the lower half of the sleep sack, I paused and I pulled on my hood it had mouth and nose openings but was padded over eyes and ears. I would have to wait for SIR to come up and lace it up tightly, I strapped my gag on, it had a small opening on the front, my dinner would be delivered through it, SIR had decreed I needed to work my way up to solid food, which I would consume out of a dog bowl, I was looking forward to that rather than the bland tasteless sludge that got injected by a large syringe through my gag nightly.

I slipped my arms into the internal sleeves of the sleep sack and laid down to await SIR coming up to tuck me into bed. I didn’t have to wait long till I felt SIR’s booted feet thumping along the floor to me, the sleep sack tightened as he did up the zips, there was a pause as I knew he grabbed some rope out of the cupboard, the sack soon tightened even more as SIR laced me tightly into the sleep sack.  Once this was done he pushed me over on my side and laced the hood up, the feeling of the leather hood constricting tightly around my head and knowing that my sexy leather clad SIR was lacing it up  made my cock strain against its imprisonment. Soon the hood was laced and sir let me fall back onto my back. The next sensation was off tightening over my chest and waist and knees, I knew it was the long leather belts attached to the side of the trundle, making it impossible for me to move. Not long after this the bland paste started to flow into my mouth through my gag, I really couldn’t wait till I could start enjoying my meals out of a dogbowl under the table at SIR’s feet.  A sensation of movement and a jolt let me know that SIR had pushed the trundle back under the bed, he had shown me a pic he had posted online once, he also fastened a large padlock on the drawer. So basically I was locked under a sturdy bed frame, strapped down to a leather pad wearing a sleepsack and leather hood with leather bike suit underneath. Above me the leather god of a man who I worshiped would spend the night sleeping between leather sheets. I slipped into sleeps embrace, life was good.

THE END