By lthr_jock

As the hours passed, Paul’s muscles cramped painfully in the cage. He found he could relieve the stress slightly by repeatedly flexing them, but still they ached and ached. He could see nothing except the brick wall 6ft in front of him. The leash attached to the back of his collar restricted his head from turning much, so he could only get glimpses of the wall to one side, and the darker expanse of the club to the other. He went to yell for help and found that he couldn’t – try as he might, he could make no sound. Then he realised that he was trying the wrong thing – dogs couldn’t talk. Instead, he tried barking and let out a deep, booming WOOF that echoed in the empty room.

For some reason, that made him feel better, and he woofed to himself a few more times. But still there was no reply from the empty club. Paul found himself drifting, head nodding as he started to fall asleep, and then jerking awake as the leash brought him back to reality. He wondered what he looked like from outside the cage – hairy, semi-naked, collared, booted, mitted and locked into leather shorts. He unconsciously flexed as he thought about the effect seeing all that caged muscle might have. Again, he found his cock trying to harden inside the shorts and grunted with suppressed frustration.

A noise alerted him to movement behind him, and the pressure on his backside eased as the cage door was opened. He tried to see who was there but the restriction of the cage prevented him seeing anything further back than the broad swell of his shoulders. He felt hands rubbing his arse through the tight leather of the chastity shorts, and then a chill as the back zipper was opened. He jumped and yipped at the feel of cool moisture on his arse, then groaned as fingers rubbed it into his crack and pushed gently at his hole to push the lube inside. The fingers withdrew to be replaced by something solid, which pushed slowly and insistently pressed against his crack. Without wishing to, he felt his muscles relax and the blunt head of the object slid inside him. Growling as the intruder widened, he felt it push inside until his arse closed around what he recognised as a butt plug – though larger than the one he had previously worn. He felt the pressure as the shorts zipped closed and then heard the click as the zipper was locked shut.

The pressure on his neck lessened as the leash was released and he felt himself pulled silently backwards. He shuffled back as indicated and was stopped just before he was fully out of the cage. Some kind of leather strap was lowered past his head, linked to a large chrome ring. He felt a chill in the middle of his back as a similar ring rested there. Straps went over his shoulders and under his pecs and were then tightened, making his chest bulge outwards. The unseen hands checked all the straps, then locked them closed, securing the leather chest harness in place.

Next he felt the collar being unlocked and removed. At once, he felt the ability to speak return. “What … what’s going on?” he croaked.

“Sssh,” came a voice he recognised as Carl’s. “Time to go to work, big guy.” Leaning over Paul, and pressing close to him so that Paul could feel the chill of his rubber suit, Carl unlocked the puppy mitts and removed them. He then took a leather hood and slid it over Paul’s head. The hood was made of thick leather – almost the thickness of boot leather. As well as the laces that Carl tightened on the back of the hood, the stitching had been done with thick leather so that the seams almost looked laced. The mouth was covered by a grill of leather lacing, so that it allowed speech but Paul would have to drink through a straw. Paul felt the hood tighten around his head and then Carl pulled him to his feet.

Groaning from the time in the cage, Paul stretched and flexed his muscles. Carl looked on appreciatively. “I see that a few hours in the dog cage suited you, boy.”

“Yes, I guess it did.” Paul grinned back at Carl. Carl was right – he felt fantastic and all his worries of earlier in the day were forgotten.

“A few more things and you’re ready for work.” Carl reached up to strap another thick leather collar around Paul’s neck, securing the hood in place. The familiar snap of the padlock no longer made Paul feel anxious – instead he felt comfortable and safe.

Carl then picked up heavy metal shackles, which he locked onto Paul’s wrists. The shackles were linked by about 1ft of chain – enough to work with, but also enough to restrict movement. Similar shackles went on Paul’s feet over the boots. Stepping back, Carl nodded. “Perfect! Come on – let’s get you to work.”

Paul followed Carl as he led him back to the bar. Until now Paul hadn’t realised the size of the place, or its complexity as they left the darkened alcoves and play areas that Paul had been stored in to come back into the main area of the club. The lights were all on now, highlighting the mirrors on the walls. As well as the mirrors, the walls were festooned with pictures of men – naked, semi-naked and in all types of fetish gear – interspersed with hanging chains, boots, cuffs and several items whose use Paul could not fathom. As he looked in a mirror, Paul caught clear sight of himself for the first time. The hood made him into something anonymous, and his now huge chest was made even larger by the chest harness. The chastity shorts did little to disguise his bulge, and his thighs seemed to stretch the legs of the shorts to breaking point. It occurred to him that he could easily be mistaken for a Top – were it not for the chains that clanked with every move – and the thick leather collar, which he could now see had the word “SLAVE” in metal lettering on the front. Paul stopped short as he tried to analyse the thought – a Top? What was that? Why had that thought occurred to him? He stood there, confused, grasping after information that he had no right to have. For a moment, he wondered what the hell was going on. What was he doing here? Who had done this to him?

But the moment passed, and he followed Carl to the bar, where he was shown how to use the till and instructed in his duties. Half an hour later, the club opened. After a slow start, the club filled quite quickly and Paul found himself to worry further. He worked the bar along with two other men – both a similar size to him and dressed the same way, although Paul noticed that their gear was not locked in place. As the club grew more crowded and the volume of the music increased, it got hotter and hotter and Paul needed several of his protein shakes to get through the evening. Luckily, Carl had some in stock and Paul got used to drinking them through a straw.

The club’s clientele was all male – many of whom were dressed in leather or rubber. Paul soon found that going out from behind the bar was an experience as he found himself groped and patted from all sides as he moved through the crowd. However, he found that he enjoyed the attention and he flexed and posed for the customers. By the end of the evening, he was hot, sweaty, exhausted but very satisfied. Jay was right – this was the ideal job for him. Carl seemed pleased too as he handed Paul his wages.

“Well done. You did a good job – especially for your first night. Right, time to get you out of those things, eh?”

To his surprise, Paul hesitated. Carl noticed and chuckled “So, Jay was right – you are into service. Well, maybe we’ll try you in something a little … harsher tomorrow night.” So saying, he began removing the padlocks from Paul’s gear and then directed him back to the changing room.

Paul was the last one to get back to the changing room, and the other two guys were already slipping out of their work clothes. They introduced themselves as Pete and Chris. Paul looked at both of them – something was very familiar about the pair. OK, they looked similar – both 6ft2”, tightly cropped hair and very muscled, but he was sure he had seen them before. Pete and Chris seemed to be looking at Paul the same way and at the same time the three men said,

“Hey, have we met before?” There was an embarrassed pause and all three burst out laughing. As Pete showered, Chris and Paul tried to work out where they had seen each other before. Paul found Chris really distracting – his bulging muscles seemed to pushing through his hairless skin and Paul delayed taking off his chastity shorts to hide his growing excitement. Just as it seemed too obvious to avoid, Pete came out of the shower and Chris went in. But Paul still didn’t get any relief as he watched the almost identically built man towelling down in front of him while making polite conversation. In the end, he turned away and started to slip into his street clothes – which Paul noted were all leather. Finally, he was able to dive into the shower, hoping to two guys had not noticed.

By the time he came out, both were fully dressed – both head to toe in gleaming black leather. Hiding his erection under a towel, he gabbled a goodbye and the guys left. Dressing and leaving soon after, he headed home and fell into a troubled sleep. Images from the last few weeks plagued him, especially a dream … a dream which remained elusive, until at last in the early morning light he woke up with a shock – that was it! He has seen Chris and Pete before – they were two of the fellow victims from his dream. But surely that was impossible. Paul settled down in the kitchen to think this through and sipped at a protein shake. Soon he realised that he was imagining things – stupid things. The best thing he could do was to go and work out.

The work out was great. As usual, once Paul got into the gym time flew by and before he knew it he was stood in the changing room. This time though, he was already half-dressed. Paul looked down, over his pumped up hairy pecs to look at his lower half. His legs were clad in a pair of padded, skin tight rubber biker jeans – similar to those Carl had worn the night before, except that these were black, highlighted with tribal markings down the outside of the leg. They were cinched at the wait with a thick rubber belt and at his calves disappeared under a pair of high bike boots that had a riveted, gleaming metal plate on the front. Paul ran his hand in disbelief down the rubber, which showed off his bulging thighs and calves perfectly – as well as the bulge of his cock which was noticeably growing down his left trouser leg. He grinned as he shrugged on the matching bike jacket – all rubber, jet black except for the tribal markings across the shoulder blades. As he zipped it up, the zip lightly snagged one of the hairs on his chest and he winced. As he looked at himself in the mirror, he reflected that his hair was too long – and that Chris and Pete had looked damn fine with their tightly cropped hair and shaved bodies. Maybe it was time for a style change, he thought …

 

Click for next part

Click for previous part

Click to start at Part 1

 

Copyright © 2007 and 2015 by lthr_jock.

 

All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

 

This story is erotic gay fiction and is for mature audiences only. It may contain supernatural themes, sex scenes, violence, coarse language, drug use and other adult themes.

 

Metal would like to thank lthr_jock for granting permission for this story, which has previously appeared on other websites, to be re-posted here.