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Litter Picking Drone

It was 7 pm. Zach was driving home late from the office when he felt a buzzing around his ankle. “Oh shit,” he thought, suddenly realising where he was.

The buzz came from the ankle monitor clamped just above his left foot. Its bulky frame housed a GPS tracker, activated as he drove through the industrial estate a mile from home.

The monitor was sealed with a steel padlock. The key was held by an anonymous guy that Zach had been chatting with online. Their conversations had started with fantasies about manual labourers and tradesmen, and Zach had shared his obsession with work gear, hi-vis polos, and boots.

Over weeks, each fantasy had grown more elaborate. Zach had eventually agreed to a daring proposal in real life.

Then the package arrived: a GPS ankle monitor with a padlock and a “compliance collar.” Instructions were clear. The ankle monitor was to be worn 24/7, hidden under baggy trousers if needed. The collar, thick and rigid with two metal probes, locked instantly when fastened and could only be released remotely. It was bulky and impractical for continuous wear, but designed to enforce obedience until a task was completed.

The faint buzz of the ankle monitor turned into a sharp, insistent rattle. His phone vibrated with a message: “COLLAR REQUIRED.” Zach knew he had 60 seconds to put it on before the ankle monitor emitted an ear-piercing alarm — attention he did not want.

He pulled over, scrambled through his bag, and fastened the collar around his neck. The magnetic clasp clicked securely into place. It wasn’t suffocating, but removal was impossible without the remote release. The collar pressed beneath his work shirt.

Another buzz. New instructions: “Put on hi-vis. Pick up litter. Five bags. Photo evidence.”

Short. Direct. Consequences unspoken but understood.

Zach opened the boot of his car. Hi-vis polos, work boots, and litter picking gear waited. He stripped off his shirt and threw on a bright orange hi-vis polo. He’d chosen chunky-collared designs specifically to disguise the compliance collar beneath. Buttoning it to the top, he felt the fabric snug over the collar, locking him further into the ritual.

The ankle monitor was easy to conceal under thick socks and sturdy work boots. Once secured, it seemed almost dormant again.

He grabbed the cheap litter picker in one hand, the blue hoop and bin bag dangling from the other. Gloves protected him from the dubious liquids inside discarded cans and bottles.

The world narrowed. His attention focused solely on the next piece of litter: a crushed Coke can, a faded crisp packet, an old water bottle half-filled with stale, yellow liquid.

Bending for the next piece of litter, the collar shifted slightly, pressing against his skin like a tether.

A lorry roared past, another hi-vis-clad worker behind the wheel. A coffee cup flew out the window, splashing Zach’s clean hi-vis. He barely flinched. The liquid glistened as the street light caught the reflective stripes of his polo.

Time slowed. Thirty minutes in, he had filled three bags when a tingling at his neck reminded him: the collar was ready to deliver a jolt if he didn’t maintain his pace. Heart racing, he moved faster, filling a fourth bag in just seven minutes.

Boots crunched over gravel as he moved through rows of warehouses. Every sweep, every step toward the next piece of litter heightened his awareness of the collar beneath his polo.

Finally, the weight of the last bag caused it to slip through the hoop and crash onto the ground. Zach tied it up and tossed it with the others. He pulled out his phone and snapped evidence of his work, sweat dripping from his forehead, his polo damp with effort. Musky and stinking.

Photo sent.

A soft click at the back of his neck signaled release. He yanked the collar off and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

Relief washed over him — but so did a rush of thrill. The forced compliance had been intoxicating. He kept the hi-vis polo on as a reminder of the evening’s work, though unease lingered. The estate looked the same. The hi-vis felt heavier. And the next trigger zone was always waiting.

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You were chilling in a beach bar alone, when suddenly a tall handsome young man appeared in front if you. You quickly glanced over his body. He was wearing only a very short sport shorts and a tight t-tshirt that underlined his muscles.

He took a free chair in front of you and pulled his t-shirt up revealing his defined abs and pumped-up pecs. Then in a deep confident voice he told you to order a beer for him.

“What?”, — you were shocked about his insolence, — “Who are you? And why should I order something for you?”

“Oh, boy. I’ve seen how you’ve been staring on all guys passing you over the last hour. I know you’ve been looking at them and dreaming to be used, owned and humiliated. You’re a fag, boy, and you can’t hide it, doesn’t matter how hard you try”, — he smirked. — “Now, I’m waiting for my beer”

You called a waiter and ordered two beers — one for him and one for you. But the guy interrupted the waiter: “Those two are for me. My fag isn’t allowed to drink”

You were so embarrassed about stranger calling you ‘fag’ in front of a waiter. But deeply inside you liked it.

When the waiter left you talked to the guy: “So, what’s your name, big boy?”

“Haha, I’m Lucas but whenever you talk to me you should show some respect. So don’t forget to add ‘Sir’ whenever you address me. Understood?”

“Yes… Sir”

“Good boy”, — he laughed and put his legs up on the table, — “Now, show me how you want to worship this godly body”

As you were kissing the soles of his 15-sized feet, the waiter brought two beers and the bill. Lucas took the bill and ordered you to give him your wallet. He then used your money to pay for the beer and gave a 50$ tip for a waiter.

Lucas quickly gulped two beers. “Now, boy, let’s go to your room”

You both stood up and you realized how small you were compared to he. You was almost a head shorter than he and you could barely see over his broad shoulders.

* * *

As you entered your hotel room, Lucas pushed you down to the floor and pulled his shorts down. He than grabbed his semi-hard 7-inches long cock and slapped it against your face a few times. With one hand he grabbed your chin and pushed his thumb in your mouth to open it. Then he pushed his dick deep down your throut.

After facefucking you for about 20 minutes he was about to burst. So he quickly pulled his penis out and cummed all over your face. He than grabbed your hair and spit into your open mouth.

“Haha, now fag you’re mine”, — he turned around and left the room, — “Gonna have a nice swim, now. I’ll be back at 6 to take you out for a dinner. Be ready and don’t make me wait”

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Someone Unexpected

"Fort Stonepeak was a small town in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains. With a population of only a few thousand, most people made their livelihoods by serving the farmers that worked just outside the city boundary or as members of the lively tourism industry that flourished in the region due to its fresh air, majestic mountain peaks, and clear blue rivers. Maybe that's why I came here? I did need some space after my breakup, but it hasn't worked. All I've done is sit in this hotel under this dim light on a creaky bed and feel sad for myself. Jesus, I need to do something. Maybe I will go to the bar tonight, and then I can at least drink my problems away. So after a shower, I looked in the mirror, put a shirt on, and got going.

Walking into the bar, spots flashed before my eyes as the bright lights flashed. I hadn't been expecting them; it gave the bar much more of a rave atmosphere than I had expected, but when in Rome, trudging to the bar, I had to practically scream over the music just to get a whiskey. Looking around, I saw couples dancing. Great! I thought, Now I get to mope with a headache, but just as I thought that, a clink noise sounded next to me. Looking over, a gay, twunkish-looking farm boy sat next to me. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here; there are not many seats around." His chuckle filled me with a giddy feeling as he laughed. "No worries, I'm not waiting for anyone," I replied, putting my hand out for a handshake. He had a much firmer grip than I thought.

The next few days, I went to hang out with John and began to learn more about him—about his family, friends, and, most importantly, his sexuality. It was another night of meeting at the same bar when John finally dropped the bomb. "I know you are gay; I am too, so I was wondering if you wanted to..." John trailed off. I was shocked as all hell. I had had my fair share of exchanges with other guys, and sure, a lot of them wanted me badly, but none had ever been this blunt. "Sure," I said, winking, "I can give you a good time," and before I knew it, we were heading over to my small hotel.

Leading John back to my apartment, I was full of joy. There was a strut in my step as I led him, and I had to slow down to stop myself from rushing too quickly. Once we got to my room, I held the door open for him and followed him in. The door shut with a bang, and I saw his shoulders tightening. Before he turned to me, "We're going to the bedroom now," he told me. I was shocked. Just a minute ago, he had been following me and gleefully talking about the starry sky and how he couldn't wait to do the deed with me. Now here, he was acting like he was in charge. I was going to talk to him about that, but then I felt the will to fight him on it leave my body as he stared at me, and like a defeated puppy, I followed him to my own bedroom, where he got me to sit down. Looking at me, I could feel his eyes undressing me before he finally seemed to be focused on my face. "I know you want me, but I want to hear it from you," he said. Still in shock at the situation, I stayed quiet, but soon waves of pleasure began to radiate through me. I looked to see where they were coming from, and his hand was massaging my crotch. "What do you want?" he asked me, and as I moaned, I only managed to whisper "you." Smiling at me, John pulled off my shirt and pants and pulled me into a kiss. I could feel his tongue invade my mouth, and I knew this was my last chance to assert that I was in charge here, so I fought back, but it was futile as he continued to slowly pressure my pouch, and finally I submitted, and his tongue began to explore my mouth. This is when I felt the first change begin. I felt inside my pants that my boxers were changing, the fabric changing to be less coarse, perhaps nylon, and shrinking down until my goods were held in a pair of briefs. looking down at them. John grinned; he said, "You look good on me," and I could feel my cheeks go hot as I blushed.

He proceeded to push me down and start kissing what felt like every inch of my body. As he did, my muscles began to shrink and my broad shoulders narrowed, but I still had a muscular frame, just a swimmer build rather than the body I had worked for at the gym, and before long, John was pulling down my pants and staring at my 9-inch. I looked at him with begging eyes as he began to suck me off, wave after wave of pleasure as I neared closer and closer, and right before I came, he moved back to kissing me and finished off my transformation as he gave me a hand job. Ribbons of cum flew out, leaving me with a reduced size. Putting his fingers covered in my own product into my mouth, my neurons fired. My brain was rewired; I was a bottom through and through, and John was certainly my boyfriend, and every night we would make love. That was how it was.

a few months later, and I've finally moved in with him. Of course, I do all the cooking and cleaning at home while he works the farm. Every night, I get to enjoy his hot, sweaty body. I think I hear him coming now. I don't think I've ever been so happy as when I see him after a long day.

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Permanent Bondage

My Master is a stickler for details. The lists and schedules that now define my life reinforce this, and that he is in total control of me: mind, body, and spirit. From our first encounter there was no doubt who was in charge. During initial discussions, he was very careful to allow me enough leeway to ascertain that I was committed to the choice I was about to make, but the contract that I would eventually sign would be ironclad, literally, and there would be no returning to my previous station once the document was signed. There were three meetings planned.

The first was in his living room, our initial face-to-face encounter after weeks of communication by e-mail. My first sight of him put me at ease.

Even before he spoke, there was wisdom and stability in his demeanor.

He offered me water, nothing else. We sat opposite each other on a large, soft sofa. We were both cautious, but both equally sure of speech.

He had many questions regarding my current situation and how I would be properly taking care of what he called loose ends. He wanted to make sure that I didn’t owe any money to anyone, or have any personal or legal ties that would interfere with transferring me into his keeping.

Slaves can be allowed very few expectations - it is the nature of slavery.

But he was willing to assure me that I would be kept healthy and clean.

The details of my servitude I would learn later, but there were three elements that were nonnegotiable… 1. I would effectively “disappear” permanently from my current existence, 2. I would be kept in naked bondage at all times, and 3. The arrangement would be permanent!

There were no pretenses, there was no physical contact; we talked only, and I was allowed to say anything and ask any questions. After a couple of hours of talking, we set the date of the next encounter, and I left, letting myself out. The second meeting would be in his dungeon. I would be allowed to see my future quarters, to view the bondage and training equipment, to study the contract I would be signing and, once again, to ask questions and clear up any doubts I had. We lived in the same town.

I had ridden the bus to the nearest stop, a few blocks from his house. I didn’t want to leave. I knew he was the one and I was ready to begin my slavery journey, but there was much work and introspection to be done. I would learn more as time passed of his thoroughness, his caution, and his dogged attention to endless details. His attitude toward my bondage was simple - once in, never out. We were both serious about this. For years I had fantasized endlessly about that click of the lock that would permanently “bind” me to my Master’s dungeon floor or wall. I even fantasized the collar or cuffs being welded or riveted into place. The bondage we were considering was permanent and we must both be very sure of our commitment. And so, during our second encounter, although

I was required to strip before entering the dungeon, there was no physical contact between us. The dungeon was in his basement. Simple wooden stairs led down from his kitchen. I followed him as directed. We reached the bottom stair and stepped onto a concrete floor. The basement was typical looking, long and narrow, a laundry area off to one side, numerous shelving units containing household supplies, tools, At the other end of the lengthy, rectangular room there was a large padlocked wooden door. Master stood to one side and had me stand and face the door. To this point he had not spoken. “This side of the dungeon door,” he spoke softly and slowly, “is something that you will only see twice!” I was engrossed in the massiveness of the door, the iron hinges, the solidity of it, and it took a moment for his words to register. I would see the door again for the last time on my third visit, at my incarceration.What lay behind the door would become my world, my existence.

Beside the door was a small table where I was instructed to leave my clothes. Master Rick stood patiently and watched as I removed my shirt, trousers, underwear, shoes and socks, and placed them neatly on the table. The floor was cold to my bare feet. My nakedness made the door seem larger. A simple cloth hood was placed over my head but left loose around my neck. I heard him unlock the door. He took my arm and led me in. I was instructed to take 5 short steps, then stand still. There was faint light coming from somewhere. Looking down, I could just barely see my toes from under the hood. The air was warmer inside the dungeon, the same concrete floor not as cold. I was then instructed to sit on the floor.

I sat cross-legged, my hands carefully placed on my knees, listening. The door closed behind me and I didn’t know if Master was in the room with me or not. I looked down at my dimly lit cock, which had been steadily achieving erection since I had walked through the wooden door. I knew instinctively not to touch. Master had made it clear in our first session that total control of my genitals, their pain, their pleasure, and all their functions, would be an essential component of my slavery! I wasn’t cold, but I shivered gently anyway from the solemnity of the moment! I lost track of time as one does in such situations. I tried to connect with smells and sounds as these were temporarily my only inputs. Other than the faint scent of leather, the air smelled clean. I became aware of some type of ventilation system gently and quietly circulating air - no other discernible smells - no other sounds - and only a very faint light evenly distributed around me.

The door opened and Master reentered - he HAD left me alone. He walked slowly toward me, stopping beside me. He removed the hood from my head and I saw for the first time my surroundings. I began to turn my head when Master said curtly, “Look straight ahead.” The back wall of the room was literally covered with every type of implement of bondage, restraint, and correction that one could imagine, all hanging from carefully placed hooks and arranged neatly. Soft spot light aimed downward cast a gentle but eerie light on the collection. There were the expected metal and leather restraint cuffs, handcuffs, leg-irons, metal and leather collars, spreader bars - several lengths - and one that looked adjustable; there was a shelf of dildos, some of metal, some of plastic, and a formidable one that looked like a policeman’s night stick, I assumed made of wood.

There were leather harnesses and straps lined up neatly, cleaned and polished to a fine shine. There were a group of shelves that held plastic storage boxes, the contents of which I could not discern. Master pushed me gently toward them the better to see. They contained an unbelievable collection of small clamps, connectors, locks, bits of chain and other assorted bondage paraphernalia - some I recognized - others I could only guess at their use. Master turned me around as he touched a switch on the wall.

The rest of the room became slowly flooded with gentle down light which came from recessed fixtures around the circumference of the otherwise dark ceiling. “I will leave you for a while now,” he said. “You may walk around, you may look, but you may not touch anything,” he added, and quickly left, closing and locking the door. I was certain that he would be watching me on a remote monitor and so I was uneasy as to what to do with my hands. I clasped them behind me and left them there as I walked around the room. Later on I knew that bondage would be employed to restrict my movements, including being able to touch myself, but now I would restrain myself voluntarily to demonstrate that I was earnest in this matter.

Yes, I was trying to impress him - we both still had the option of backing out of the deal. The point of no return for BOTH of us would be at the third encounter. The details of the transaction would be revealed to me later on, but it had been made clear to me that when I stepped through the door of this room again, if I chose to do so, it would be for the last time. For now, however, we were both still struggling with that final decision. He volunteered to me that he had never had a long-term slave. Like me, and most of us I assume, his encounters to date had been short - overnights, weekends, and a few week long encounters. Once he had a slave for a summer.

My longest session ever had been 4 days…all in blissful bondage. But he, like me, in his very core had always fantasized about a permanent situation, a full-time slave, true ownership, and TOTAL control. He, also like me, was fascinated by the idea of “permanent” bondage. I had spent many hours in self-bondage over the years, wearing leg irons, ball cuffs and the like, and pretending that someone else possessed the keys, engaging passionately in self-stimulation, and at the same time wishing there was someone in control who would not allow it; a Master who would allow me to ejaculate only at his whim, and according to his schedule; to be alternately “milked” mercilessly, then denied even an erection for weeks on end; or to be required to maintain constant erection, but NOT allowed to relieve it; to yield total control of my pain and pleasure to another! Now the prospect of my fantasies coming true caused me to shiver.

It wasn’t cold in the room, I was shivering from excitement. My cock continued to harden. The room was about 20 feet deep from the door to that back wall covered with implements and tools. It was wider by 1 or 2 feet, roughly square, with a polished concrete floor painted flat black. The ceiling was high, maybe 11 or 12 feet and completely black also. From its center, and from four more points equally spaced about the ceiling, there hung large metal rings, suspended on heavy lengths of chain about a foot down from the ceiling. I stared for a while at these rings.

They caught the light and stood out ominously against the opaque ceiling. They looked like they could hold an elephant I mused to myself, and I’m sure they’ll be holding me one day, I allowed myself to fantasize. The ceiling held the only lighting, a series of recessed fixtures circumvented the room and cast their light eerily downward, flooding the walls, and leaving the center of the room unlit by comparison. There was one more fixture in the center of the ceiling which looked like a traditional flood lamp, but it was not on.

I fantasized that it could be employed to spotlight the center of the room when something interesting was happening there! Everything I saw spurred rampant fantasies. My mind was racing. Every inch of me was tingling with excitement and childlike delight! The other three walls were basically bare except for numerous heavy iron rings positioned as various heights. I imagined myself chained to these rings, my legs stretched across the room and spread wide apart, a metal collar chained to the ceiling, arms stretched and chained to opposite walls! Chain and metal has always played heavy in my fantasies, and I could see easily that Master shared these fantasies with me. I could not have designed a more perfect dungeon to fit my bondage desires! I turned my attention now to the four corners of the room.

Each of the two back corners had large pieces of dungeon furniture. In one corner there were two items; a padded punishment horse, over which a slave could be stretched for whipping or ass-work, and, leaning against the back wall what seemed to be a portable work table or stretcher. It was basically a table top without legs, and it had holes around the outside edge, obviously for tying down a slave! I assumed that either it had attachable legs, or that it could be suspended from the ceiling when in use. The other back corner housed a traditional, but very elaborate leather sling. It was hanging from a hook high on the wall, but could obviously be moved to anywhere in the room as needed. In one corner along the door end of the room there was a commercial shower and wash area, a 3x3 concrete basin with 1 foot sides, and with a large drain in the center.

Overhead hung a hose with various attachments, one of which I was sure would be used to clean out my insides. There was a small shelf on the wall which housed what looked like enema equipment, soap, and other cleaning solutions. The corner walls behind the shower area had extra rings to which a slave could be attached and kept immovable. I fantasized being washed, shaved, and generally kept clean at this little corner facility.

There was no traditional toilet, and I assumed that this single drain would serve all my waste elimination needs. Near the shower area, at about crotch height, a single metal bar protruded about 18 inches straight into the room. It was obviously adjustable in height, but otherwise rigid. At its end was a heavy, chrome ring. The ring, upon closer examination had two halves which could be opened, but it was tightly screwed together with Allen screws - obviously a device for holding a slave’s balls and keeping him attached firmly to the wall at the same time.

Apparently the slave would straddle the bar with his back to the wall, and his balls would be encased by the heavy metal ring. There was but one corner left to explore. It alone was NOT well lit. Master had obviously wanted me to see it last. As I turned my attention toward its darkness and began to strain my eyes to see, a spotlight magically came to life and shined upon a metal cage.

Master WAS watching me and choreographing this whole scene remotely. The cage backed up against the corner, and as I examined it more closely, I could see that its bars were embedded in the concrete floor and that its two back walls were the walls of the room. It was a permanent fixture. Entry into the cage seemed to be on its top side. The whole top seemed to be on hinges, and there was an ominous hasp and lock on the side opposite the hinges. It looked awesomely stable and I longed to touch it. But I dared not.

Later on I might venture an occasional breaking of a rule in order to illicit the punishment I long for, but for now, I’d better not take any chances. After all, Master was watching. The cage was approximately four feet square. The bars, each at least two inches thick, were about five inches apart.

I could easily place my hands or feet through the bars. On the rear walls of the cage were numerous extra metal rings. I imagined me inside the cage, secured to the rear wall and with my feet and hands cuffed outside the bars. I wondered how much of my future time would be spend cramped inside this cage…would it be for occasional punishment only, or would it, in fact, be my new home? So far, as I have mentioned, Master only has spoken in generalities. “Details come later,” he always added secretively.

Of course, now as I took in all these dark and ominous surroundings, those details allured and tantalized me. My eyes reluctantly left the cage and followed along the side wall to a curious installment. Near the cage, about 3 feet from it, a single metal pole, about 4 feet in height, rose from the floor some six to eight inches away from the wall. There was an adjustable mechanism near its center, and a screw fitting at its top, obviously for attachments of some sort. It was bolted firmly to the concrete. There were two D rings welded on either side of it near the floor.

I literally shook, and for the first time, my hands came down to my side. I quickly put them up behind my neck. This was an impaler! I had seen these in online catalogs, and the photos had been a source of endless fantasizing.

The slave’s feet would be attached to the rings near the bottom. A dildo would be connected to the screw fitting on top, then adjusted upward and into the slave’s ass, impaling him and securing him immovably to the spot. Pre-cum dripped from my erect cock. I was mesmerized by this device and the fantasies it dredged up within me. Suddenly the door opened - my viewing session was over. I was instructed to sit on the floor again in the center of the room. I was handed an envelope with my name printed on it and the words, SLAVE CONTRACT!

A very bright overhead light came to life and I was instructed to read the document, taking as much time as I needed, and to indicate that I was finished by standing. I would be allowed to ask questions afterwards, but for now I was left alone again, with the envelope. Once again, the door was closed and locked! I sat naked on the floor and slowly opened the large brown envelope. Releasing the metal clasp, I removed the three crisp pages of the document that would define my future life. Thumbing through them I noted that there were numerous blanks to be filled in, and several places for both mine and Master’s signatures. I would be allowed as much time as I required to study it, but I would not get a copy to take with me as I had secretly hoped - and I dare not ask for this. I began to read…

SLAVE CONTRACT

To whom it may concern: The slave contract described herein is entered into on this ___ day of ___, in the year ___, and is entered into willingly and freely by the two parties involved. Upon signing, this contract is absolutely binding, and may not, under any circumstances, nor for any reasons, be either revised OR revoked. To this end, the Master, _____, and the slave, _____ both, with their signatures, will attest that the elements of this contract are understood and accepted. There are three components to this contract, each of which must be agreed to, and signed for the entire contract to be viable.

POINT ONE: The slave, ___ agrees to leave his former life, severing all ties, real or imagined, and to grant full ownership of his being, body and mind, to the Master, ___. Ownership shall be defined as follows: The Master will have total control and direction over the slave and shall own him outright. The slave will no longer have any rights or privileges other than those specifically granted by the Master. The slave will not make decisions or have opinions. The slave will not have possessions. The slave’s life and existence will be totally under the direction of the Master. The slave will be kept clean. The slave will be appropriately exercised, nourished and watered. Otherwise, the slave will have no guarantees and will exist completely at the Master’s disposal, and be guided and directed by the Master’s whim. With regard to POINT ONE, I, slave ___, do accept, and willing comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With regard to POINT ONE,

POINT TWO: The slave, ___ agrees that he will be kept completely naked perpetually; that he will never again be allowed to touch any part of his body with his hands or feet without the Master’s express permission and direction; that absolute control will be maintained over his genitals, body orifices, and ALL body functions; and, that various bondage implements, and restraints will be regularly employed to enforce these requirements. With regard to POINT TWO, I, slave ___, do accept, and willing comply. slave’s signature and date: _____ With regard to POINT TWO,

POINT THREE: The agreement described herein, and entered into between slave, ___, and Master, ___, will be PERMANENT. It will not, and can not, ever be revoked or revised for any reason save the death of either of the parties involved. As a safety measure, two witnesses, who are associates of the Master, will witness and sign this document.

Both of these witnesses will have full access to the Masters house and property, and should the Master die, fall gravely ill, or for any other reason be unable to fulfill his portion of this contract, the witnesses shall assume joint ownership of the slave herein described, and they shall decide jointly as to his fate.

He may be moved to another residence, sold, or disposed of in any manner the witnesses find mutually acceptable. This agreement between the Master and the Witnesses is further outlined and attested to in a separate document, and is alluded to herein to allay any anxieties the slave might have regarding the future health of his Master. With regard to POINT THREE,

CONCLUSION: The involved parties, having thoroughly read and understood this entire contract, shall below affix their dated signatures, as guarantee of same, and that all parties fully accept the terms outlined herein:

After reading the entire document several times, I put it back into the envelope and laid it beside me. My thoughts were racing! Reading the contract was such a turn on. But I must be sure. I must be careful. I ran over and over in my mind, would I miss this, would I miss that? But my core slave self consistently took over.

My entire life had led me to this moment. I would go home and think some more before the THIRD ENCOUNTER, but I was sure that I was sure! I retrieved the envelope and stood up, and waited several minutes for his return.

The door opened and I was escorted out. I dressed at the small table beside the door. We went upstairs. I was offered water and asked if I had any questions or comments. I didn’t have questions, just an intense longing that totally consumed me. I looked him in the eye for some time. I needed desperately for him to touch me, to man-handle me, but that would come, according to his plan! He seemed to understand my need to search his eyes…for that is where the soul is. Perhaps his soul would mesh with mine…it certainly felt so. Perhaps I was making the right choice.

Ninety per-cent of me was sure. But I must be sure not to let my cock lead me into something that I would regret. I would have two weeks to wrestle with the other 10 per-cent. In one week I would return for the THIRD ENCOUNTER! I would strip, be bound, and become the permanent property of my new Master.

There was much to do, and much to think and fantasize about. I left his house and took the bus back to my apartment for the last time. We met, the four of us, in Master’s living room.

I eyed the two witnesses carefully, knowing that they were full participants in whatever future Master had planned for me, including inheriting me if Master died! After brief, perfunctory introductions, we moved to the dining table, Master indicating where each one of us should sit.

At my place there was that envelope I had seen on the last visit. My heart did the first of several leaps it would make over the next while…and so did my cock! They all sat the same way as if it were planned (perhaps it was)…their elbows informally laid on the table, their hands clasped before them, and gazing blankly, but seriously at me. I put my slightly trembling hands on the table on either side of the envelope, trying not to look too relaxed, and awaited instructions.

After a few moments of silence, Master produced a pen and laid it on the table beside him. Looking me right in the eye, he asked, “Are you prepared to sign the document?” “Yes…” I tried to say, but it stuck in my wndpipe and I only let out a pitiful squeak. Quickly clearing my nervous throat, I continued, “Yes Sir.” “Open it,” he said. I fumbled it open, laid the envelope aside and spread the contract out on the table before me. “Read it again,” he instructed. I did…

As I read through it carefully, for the last time before signing, pertinent words leapt off the page and sent pangs of both fear and excitement through my entire being: kept clean, Master’s whim, completely naked perpetually, absolute control over genitals, bondage implements, restraints… I made my way slowly through Point One, Point Two, Point Three, The CONCLUSION.

I was finished reading, but I hesitated for a few tense seconds, exercising my last little bit of control, but merely putting off the inevitable. I had already decided to sign. I swallowed deeply and slowly and, finally, looked up at Master indicating that I was through. He immediately handed me the pen. I took it in trembling hands and signed all the places indicated.

I pushed the document over toward him. He carefully inspected all of my signatures, signed it himself, and, in turn, passed it to the two witnesses. Their heretofore solemn faces now sported the slightest smiles. This had obviously been a tense moment for them too! But it was over. The contract was signed and witnessed and I was his and, in fact, theirs. “Wait here,” Master said to me, then escorted his two friends to the door. They spoke briefly and softly. I didn’t even try to listen. I was engrossed in my own briskly racing thoughts. What had I done? Was I sure? Too late! I could run. I was still dressed. I could “escape” out the back. But I sat and waited as commanded.

When he returned his demeanor was different. He looked at me sitting at the table. I thought that I should perhaps know what he expected, but I didn’t. “Stand up,” he commanded, not harshly, but firmly. He was taking command. This is what I had longed for. “Follow me,” he added tersely. I did. We stopped at the door to the basement. He turned to face me. I was following him so closely that I almost ran into him. Stumbling slightly, I regained my stance just in time, even though my knees had turned to butter! He put his hands on my shoulder to steady me. “Relax,” he said, “You’re doing the right thing.

Now, just trust me. Before we go downstairs,” he continued, “let me give you some instructions. Listen very carefully, you will only hear this once, and there will be no speaking for quite some time after this!” He paused. I regained my composure, looked at him longingly, and listened intently. I am his slave now, I thought. He owns me!

It felt good already, even though I didn’t know fully as yet what it meant. I would learn. “Initially,” he explained, “your captivity will consist of a transition period, with varying schedules and routines. You will lose track of time as you know it now. After this you will be settled into a regular, very detailed schedule. Nothing will ever be explained to you, you will never be made aware of anything other than what to do and when to do it.

You will learn through punishment and reward just what I like and what I expect, and when you have pleased me! There are two rules: 1. Never speak unless I tell you to!, and 2. Do what I say immediately and without hesitation. Do you understand?” “Yes sir,” I said, and my cock stiffened. He allowed me to continue to gaze into his eyes. I knew in that moment that he would sense all my needs, that I would not need to ask questions! I would work so hard to please him, but I would also welcome punishment for not pleasing him. I shivered again with delight. He lowered his hands from my shoulders where he’d kept them. He reached around me, pulled me to him and hugged me reassuringly. I loved him. “Alright then,” he said, “come, it is time.

I followed him down the basement stairs. At the bottom of the stairs there was a 5 gallon plastic utility bucket, unmarked and covered with a lid, and a small black satchel. Motioning to them, he said, “Bring these along.” I picked them up, one in each hand, and we walked the length of the storage space and up to the huge wooden door. The small table where I had placed my clothes had been replaced by a garbage can with a plastic liner. At his instruction, I put down the bucket and the satchel and began to remove my clothes. Getting naked was always a rush for me, especially if someone was making me! This was the last time I would strip. I did it slowly, savoring the rush, welcoming the coolness against my skin, the cold floor against my bare feet.

Putting my clothes and shoes into the garbage sent me over the edge. My cock was totally stiff now. Master looked at my cock, then looked me in the eye and said, “We’ll have to get that under control, won’t we?” I shivered again. He swung open the large door. I picked up the bucket and the satchel, and followed him inside. He closed the door and secured it with a huge combination lock. There was the answer to one of my questions; if I changed my mind and wanted to escape, even if I were not otherwise bound,

I would not have the combination to that massive lock. I was completely caught now, naked and locked in his dungeon. My knees were butter again, I almost fell from the weight of my load. He directed me to put the bucket and the satchel down, took me under my arms for support and led me over to the cleaning area. He directed me to step into the wash basin. I noticed a single chain hanging down from over my head. He cuffed my hands with simple metal handcuffs. He then operated a mechanism on the wall beside us which lowered the ceiling chain. The handcuffs were attached to the chain and pulled up just over my head. “Kneel”, he said, and, with some difficulty, I did.

Pulling my head forward, he wet my hair with warm water. He sat down in front of me, took out a razor and began to shave my head. I was weak with the joy of it. He was cleaning and shaving me, getting me ready to be bound into his service. It was a delicious sensation to know that I know longer had to make plans or have any concerns at all, other than to please him. I was now completely his! He shaved my head, and then continued down my body, carefully removing all hair, down to my toes. It was an unbelievable sensation to have someone else handling and touching EVERY inch of me.

I had been shaved before in scenes, but nothing like this. He was meticulous. The overhead chain was connected through a mechanism that could be adjusted by pulling either of two chains hanging against the wall. Like Venetian blinds, he pulled me up or let me down, turned me around, had me kneel, and adjusted me as necessary to accommodate his careful work.

When he had finished shaving me all over, he stretched me up tall, standing on my tiptoes, and stood back to admire his work. I turned around several times, balancing on my toes. He was viewing his handiwork, and surveying his new property. He lowered my hands to about chest height and turned me around, instructing me to lean against the wall and to spread my legs apart as wide as I could. Sitting on a stool behind me, he inserted an enema nozzle into my ass. From an overhead bag he filled me up several times, stretching my gut like it had never been stretched, forcing me to hold it, then having me squat and release. This continued until I ran clear.

I had never been so clean inside! Satisfied that I was clean, he stretched me upward again. He then washed me all over with soap, rinsed me and left me hanging there to dry while he busied himself in the back of the room. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but the tinkling of chain and the rustling of leather and rope kept me hard with anticipation. My hands tired quickly - my wrists were hurting, but blood was still flowing and I welcomed the slight discomfort as symbolic of my captivity.

When I was dry he lowered my hands and released them from the cuffs. I was naked and unbound in my Master’s dungeon, but not for long. He re-cuffed my hands behind my back and, while I was still turned around, he took what looked like a caulking gun and, inserting the tip into my ass, filled me up with lubricant. It oozed out as he turned me around to face him, feeling squishy between my cheeks. He then retrieved a small leather device from his pocket, a harness, which fit snugly around my balls, forcing them down into their sack, and separating them with a tight leather strap. My cock was left free.

It had been hard since I walked through the door. Master made no effort to control it. I wondered what would happen to my cock. Would he tie it up too? Would he contain it in an anti-erection device? Would he punish it for being hard? It longed for release…to be touched, but he ignored it! He walked across the room and adjusted the lighting so that the middle of the room was flooded, the periphery dark.

He directed me out of the wash basin and instructed me to lie on the floor with my head near a small black heavy-looking, drum-shaped metal object. A huge metal mallet lay near it. He position me with the metal object behind me and close to my neck, and pulled the satchel over toward my face. I shivered uncontrollably as he removed a heavy iron slave collar slowly from the satchel. He put it down on the floor at my nose and stood back briefly, allowing me to savor the collar. “Look at it carefully,” he instructed. “You will never see it again!”

As I stared at it and trembled slightly, the sinisterness of what he had just said bore down heavily upon me! I would not see it, but I would feel it, ever-present, around my slave neck! The collar was made from curved, solid metal bands, about two inches wide, and at least a quarter of an inch thick. It was hinged, and met on the opposite side with tabs that contained holes through which a lock could be placed.

On the hinged side there was a permanently attached length of heavy chain. The rest of the chain remained inside the satchel. Around the collar, equally spaced, there were four iron D-rings to which other chains, locks, ropes, etc. could be attached. It would be heavy, but I would bear it. I would have no choice. It would further bind me to him, a thought I relished. He lifted the collar and moved it towards my neck, pulling more of the attached chain from the satchel. I followed his hands with my eyes. The chain jingled. The D-rings jingled.

I lifted my head slightly as he unceremoniously placed the collar around my neck. It was cold, and immediately very heavy. It clanked slightly as he closed it and touched the tabs together behind me. He was fumbling with something behind me that I assumed was a huge lock.

It was not until he picked up the mallet and began to bang away at the small anvil behind me that I realized it wouldn’t be a lock, but a metal rivet that would keep the collar in place. My balls strained in their leather bondage, my hard dick bounced freely as I startled and shuddered from the loud noise.

My hands pulled at the cuffs behind my back. He had said “permanent”, but little did I know just how permanent he meant! He helped me to stand, and as I stood up the gravity of my new PERMANENT collar hit me. It would take much getting used to. I would never forget that I was wearing it. It bore down on my shoulders, still cold. It would eventually warm up to by body temperature, but it would never become lighter.

The attached chain extended from the satchel as I rose, adding to the weight of the collar. Master directed me over to the wash basin, and followed me carrying the satchel. He put the satchel down beside the plastic bucket and had me turn around. Sitting on a stool as before and spreading my legs apart, he removed the leather bondage from my balls and replaced it with a locking metal ball cuff attached to a small length of chain. He then removed the handcuffs and directed me to remove the lid from the bucket. It was about half filled with a white powdery substance. Master sprayed some water into the bucket, gave me a stick and instructed me to stir the mixture.

When the water was completely incorporated, he directed me to pick up the bucket and the satchel. I followed him to the center of the room, placing them beside a small square of cardboard on the floor. Master pushed the cardboard aside, revealing a round hole cut into the floor. Either the hole had not been there before, or it had been carefully concealed. In either event I had not noticed it. It was about eight inches in diameter and approximately twelve inches deep. My knees buckled under my load as I mentally pieced together his plan. Master took the chain attached to my collar and pulled it from the satchel.

At the other end of what seemed to be about a fifteen feet chain, there was a small, iron anchor. The anchor was roughly the size of the hole. His intentions were clear. He placed the anchor into the hole and instructed me to pour the liquid cement in to cover it. I poured, shaking as I did. I stood and watched as he smoothed the cement, removing the excess with a trowel. He placed a small metal frame over the hole which would hold the attached chain up off of the cement until it dryed, and directed me to follow him. I did, swinging the short chain from my balls, and dragging the long length of chain from my neck. We walked over to the corner which held the cage.

I was obviously going to spend some time in the cage, a thought which sent pulses through my throbbing dick. How much more adrenilized could I become???

We walked to the corner that held the cage. Master carefully led me with the chain that was attached to my collar, making sure not to pull against the still wet cement. I noticed when I stepped into it that the cage was slightler larger than I had previosly assessed it to be. There would be room for me to sit upright in it.

The top was opened and temporarily secured with a small hook against the wall. Master turned me facing the corner and had me bend over with my legs spread apart. He squirted more of the cold lubricant up my ass, then told me to sit in the corner with my back toward the wall. It was then that I noticed something that had not been there before, a LARGE dildo, bolted into the floor, out from the corner about 8 inches.

It was dark in color, perhaps made of rubber or plastic - I couldn’t tell. Master was patient and I took my time. I knelt facing it at first, getting a good close look at it. It was between 6 and 8 inches in length, pointed then tapered out toward the bottom to a narrow spot around which my asshold would tighten, essentially attaching me to the floor by the ass! Now I knew why Master had put so much lubricant in me. I’m no virgin, but it took some time for me to get the thing completely in me. Master gave me no instructions except to “sit on it”, so I squatted, held onto the upper edge of the cage and slowly lowered myself onto the dildo, gradually moving my feet forward as I took in more and more of it. I had to raise up and try again several times before I could get my asshole to relax sufficiently.

Eventually my ass did relax, sucked in the monster, and closed down gratefully around the narrow section near the floor, effectively attaching me immovably to the floor. I lowered my hands and leaned back again the corner wall. It was very cold to my back. I wiggled slightly, feeling the fullness of the object within me, and realizing that I couldn’t move my torso in any direction.

I was held fast to the floor. Before I had much time to think about it, Master took my feet, spread them apart, and placed them into iron stocks. The implement consisted of two metal bands with curved sections at either end that, when closed together, formed ankle cuffs. The device screwed together at three places, by each ankle, and in the center.

Each of the screws was topped with an eye hook. Master then connected a short length of chain from each eye hook to the short chain hanging from my balls, pulling my feet back away from the bars of the cage and forcing my knees into the air and apart! This forced my back against the corner. Master then pulled two straps from behind me and used them to attach my upper body to the wall; at my waist, and at my chest. He then adjusted my collar so that the attached chain was in front, and using the D- rings on either side of my collar, he attached the back of my neck to the wall.

At the outside upper corner of the cage there was a narrow slot, just big enough to hold one link of the chain. He stretched the chain out from me until it was straight, then secured it into the slot. This would keep me from pulling on the chain and disturbing the still drying cement. Instructing me to keep my hands out of the way, he reached down between my legs and grabbed my cock…finally, I thought, he going to do something with my dick, but what? Holding my dick in one hand, he pulled a plastic sleeve onto it, securing it with a strap that went under my balls.

He used medical tape to tighten the device around my dick, especially near the head. I could still get hard, but not completely. On the end there was a small nipple to which Master attached a long piece of tubing. The tubing was long enough to reach across the room and empty into the basin drain.

I doubted that I would ever be soft enough to piss, but in case I needed to, I could. Another piece of tubing, slightly larger, was place near my mouth and taped into place. It led to a gallon jug of water just outside the cage. I would be watered and could piss all I needed to. Master obviously intended for me to be here a while! Only my hands needed to be secured. “Raise them up and place them against the wall,” he instructed, showing me where to put them. He slowly lowered the top of the cage and I could see two cut out areas along the edge, just the size of my wrists. The top of the cage barely grazed the top of my head as it closed down into place, securely locking my hands against the back walls about 8 inches away from my neck on either side.

For one last touch, Master connected a chain from the iron leg stocks to the outside corner of the cage, pulling my feet forward as far as they would go and slightly stretching my balls. My knees were free - but not for long - Master tied a bungee cord loosely around each knee and pulled them apart, securing them to the bars of the cage.

I could stretch my legs slightly for a little exercise, but they were always quickly pulled back by the bungee cord. He left the light on in the center of the room. I could only sit still, impaled by the dildo, strapped helplessly to the inside of an iron cage, and await his return. Master did one last check of all my bindings, checking for circulation.

I would obviously be there for a while. He reached down and fiendlishly pulled at my tits, mashing them between his fingers and twirling them relentlessly. My cock strained in its plastic sheath bondage. My asshole tightened around the dildo.

My balls pulled hopelessly at their iron bondage. My feet cramped, but when I wiggled them for relief, the chains pulled at my balls. I could only look straight ahead and watch the cement dry - obviously Master’s plan for my next few hours. He left the dungeon, closed the heavy door behind him. I heard the massive lock click, and faintly, his booted steps as he walked away.

My ass longed to rid itself of the monster. My hands, hanging helplessly began to ache. My balls were stretched and sore. Any slight movement I made pulled on the chains connected to them. My feet and legs cramped from being held rigid in one position for so long. My entire body went from uncomfortable, to sore, then to painful…pain that was unendurable, and yet I had to endure it! There were no choices for me any longer.

Master would decide how much pain I could take, and just what I could and WOULD endure! I lost conscientiousness several times. Each time I roused from pain-induced stupor,

I wished to be unconscious again. I wished most of all for Master to return and to release me from this cage. I knew full well that release from this current horror would only be replaced by some other horror. This was what I had longed for all my life - total slavery - permanent bondage. Whether or not I could “take it” mattered not in the least. I would endure it. I had signed the contract. I no longer had choices, and I had to learn to quit wishing and hoping. I would simply endure. This was my fate. To even mentally question this was futile.

This monster up my butt was there to teach me about futility, about hopelessness. The iron encircling my ankles and my balls were my new teachers. The collar around my neck was my guru, leading me to acceptance of the fact that I was now the property of another. My attachment to Master’s dungeon was permanent. I was now a part of the dungeon, cemented to its floor. I have no idea how much time passed before Master’s return. The water jug was empty. The cement was long dry. I had watched it turn color, from dark when wet, to a powdery white when dry.

The door opened. He paid me no attention initially and went to the center of the room to check the cement, removing the frame which held the chain and pulling with all his weight against the floor. He knew it was dry and that the chain was secure. This show was for my benefit. My dick sprang into action and labored against its bondage as I watched him. He walked slowly over toward me, looking at me without emotion. After standing and staring for a moment, he unlocked the top of the cage which released my hands. I couldn’t move them at first, then slowly, painfully, I lowered them to rest on my knees. I dare not touch anything else for fear of being punished - as if I were not ALREADY in pain. He released the iron from my ankles and disconnected the chains from the iron ball ring which he left in place.

The chest and waist straps were removed. “Get up,” he said, knowing that I could not without assistance. He placed his arms under mine and pulled me up off of the dildo. My ass stretched painfully as it came past the wide point of the monster. “Unscrew the dildo,” he added after I was fully standing. I thought I was rid of the monster, but apparently wherever I was going, it was coming with me. I knelt on sore knees and unscrewed the thing from the floor. I stood with Master’s help and stepped painfully out of the cage, wondering when I would visit it again.

We walked over to the wash basin where he made me stand still so that he could remove the penis sheath and the iron ball ring. I stood naked except for my collar. I leaned backward slightly to counter the pull of the heavy chain. He motioned me into the basin, and directed me to clean the dildo, and then to lay it aside on a shelf to dry. After several enemas, he washed me all over with soap and left me standing to dry. I liked very much the feeling of being completely naked except for my collar. After I was mostly dry, Master cuffed my hands behind me, then placed the dildo in my hands.

I was to keep it with me. I was then led me a small metal bowl on the floor near the door. I was apparently going to be fed. I was hungry. I knelt down and ate the tasteless, cereal-like mush ravenously. It was difficult to keep my balance, struggling on sore knees and balancing the dildo behind me, but I managed to eat all of the mush. I then drank some water from another bowl. Such was breakfast, or lunch, or dinner or whatever it was. I no longer had a sense of time. We headed back over toward the cage. My heart sank. I had had enough of the cage for a while. The neck chain pulled at me as I walked. Master lifted the chain to assist me. We passed the cage and stopped at the impaler, a simple metal rod rising from the floor.

My mind raced with joy and fear! I tried not to tremble as Master released my cuffed hands. I brought my hands and the dildo around to the front of me. Master instructed me to mount the dildo onto the metal rod. There was a screw fitting to accommodate it! He then had me bend over and, sticking the squirt gun up my ass, filled me with the lubricant. I knew what was coming.

Turning me around, he backed me toward the wall until I was standing over the dildo aimed at my ass. He reached over into the cage, retrieved the iron ankle stocks I had worn before, and screwed them into place around my ankles. Spreading my legs apart brought my ass downward. The dildo barely grazed my asshole. Next he put the locking ball ring back around my still aching balls. Should I complain? Should I ask for mercy? I dared not speak - it might make things worse!

My job was to comply willingly and to respect Master’s plan, whatever it might mean for me. After recuffing my hands behind me, he put the plastic pissing sheath back on my struggling dick. I enjoyed his touching my dick and longed for more, but Master had a plan for it I was sure! For now, I must be content to suffer bondage. He hung a light weight metal pail from my bound balls.

There was enough room between my spread-apart legs for the pail to swing to and fro. He then ran the piss tube into the bucket and taped it into place. My own piss would fill the bucket and lightweight would turn to very heavy. He put ear plugs into my ears and onto my head he placed a leather hood with no eye holes, only nostril ventilation and a hole for the water tube to be taped into place in my mouth. The hood laced up the back of my head, and around my neck. It felt good. He ran his hands lightly over my arms, checking for circulation, I guess. He cupped and fondled my balls and rechecked the penis tubing.

Then there was a long pause. I could not tell if he had walked away, or was standing near me. And then I felt his hands on my shoulders. He gently pushed me down onto the waiting monster. I sat down, slowly consuming its hugeness, pushing, stretching, until my asshole found the narrow spot and I was stuck. He then loosened the rod so that it could be raised, and pushed me up with it until I was barely standing on my heels. I was impaled, stretched upward by the ass. I could only stand there helpless, and drink water, and piss, and fill the bucket. How long would he leave me in this state? What difference did it make? There would only be some other fiendish bondage situation to follow, then another, then another…for the rest of my life!

Countless days and nights went by. I was no longer aware of time. My only focus was on my bondage which was never-ending. When the piss bucket hanging from my tender balls was full and dripping onto the floor, splashing onto my legs, Master came in, emptied it, and hung it there again to be refilled. I don’t know how many times I filled the bucket - several.

Then, suddenly, it was over. The bucket was emptied and not replaced. The impaler was lowered and me with it. I was pulled up off of it, my legs, hands, head, and balls released from their prisons, and led over to the corner wash basin. The slight stubble that had collected all over me was my only clue to time passed; around a week I judged. I don’t know what in me encouraged me to try to keep up with time. Why? There was no time for me in the traditional sense. T

his was obviously his plan, to obscure my sense of time. It was working. But meanwhile I would hang on to this only clue - the stubble of hair. It was a simple thing, but somehow I needed the connection with time reality. Otherwise I imagined that I would be insane. And maybe I already was? In my former life I had been a stickler for keeping to the schedule. I never missed a deadline in my 12 years as a journalist. The schedule was, I began to realize now, my former Master. I had simply exchanged one for the other.

The difference now was that I had zero input. I would be making no decisions. Whereas before I had focused on my creative output, I now was forced to focus ONLY on my bondage. The chain that pulled constantly at my neck did that. Hoods, ball rings, manacles, leg irons, dildos, would all come and go, but that collar and chain was on me for good.

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I have your feature in my hand dm if you really want to be mine forever telegram @Bestdomme01 📥

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WTF! 

The crackling image appeared suddenly on his screen and Colin instantly recognised the tattoos….it was his boyfriend Eric, missing for 2 months. 

He watched transfixed as a pair of big hobnail boots appeared and were held to the waiting mouth. The hooded slave dived on them in a frenzy, licking, lapping furiously. 

Then the tail was ripped from the hole and another masked figure crouched onto it and with no preliminaries, with the biggest cock he had ever seen, plunged in and fucked brutally, Erics screams rang in his ears, begging…’ARRRGGGHHHH! i’ve been good, please, please, stop please…’ 

In response the Man in the boots stood on Eric’s head and then piss started to rain down on his back. 

It was 15 minutes later, after the both Men had cum, after, Eric had been forced to lick the angry cocks clean, lick the puddles of piss off the floor, after the two Men had started barking orders that had Eric, begging, fetching, barking, rolling over and over, that Colin realised he was rubbing his cock, that he was getting close, that this was the most turned on he had ever been. 

As Eric was fed a handful of what looked like dog food, Colin screamed and shot a huge load. Instantly, as quickly as it had appeared, the screen went black leaving Colin looking around, were they watching? 

He reached for his phone, he should tell the police. But then a message appeared on the screen. 

SAME TIME TOMORROW. 

DON’T TELL A SOUL OR ELSE THAT WAS THE LAST TIME YOU’LL EVER SEE IT.

WE’VE JUST SHOWN IT THE FOOTAGE WE TOOK OF YOU WANKING TO ITS PAIN AND DEGRADATION. YOU’VE JUST HELPED US TO BREAK IT OF ANY LAST RESOLVE AND RESISTANCE. IT NOW UNDERSTANDS…YOU DON”T CARE, IT BELONGS TO US…PERMANENTLY. 

AS A THANK YOU WE ARE PLEASED TO OFFER YOU A DISCOUNTED MEMBERSHIP TO THE WEBSITE. FOR JUST £13.99 A MONTH YOU’LL BE ABLE TO ENJOY DAILY UPDATES OF ‘SHITHOLES’ TRAINING. ENJOY!

Colin put the phone down, gave his cock a quick squeeze and reached for his wallet. 

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ARMY in year 2095! (Part1)

it was january 1st in the year 2095. this was the year that a new drastic new law came into effect. the government had to make a big decision and decided that all men from the age of 18 had to report to the army. I got off the bus in front of the army base, just like all the other men who had received the call from the government to report that day. I walked into the army base and reported to the counter, where 2 stern muscular men stood in army clothing. I had to show my call letter here and it was immediately stamped and a number was put where I had to report. as instructed i walked to my number which was number 9. when i entered the room this time 3 heavily muscled men were waiting for me. at that moment i closed the door behind me, gave the form to the first man. he told me that i had to wait for orders and so i stayed where i was at that moment. suddenly there was money that i had to undress, i did this as instructed. i had put on very easy clothes so everything was off.

now i stood there naked in front of 3 enormously muscular men who were looking at me from head to toe. so says 1 of the men, as you know, the new law is effective immediately from today. the new law is as follows: from 1 january, all men aged 18 and over must report to the army, immediately. there the necessary measures will be taken and implemented to be able to defend our country well and strongly. when the man finished reciting the new law. i was taken and put in a long line with all the other men. and was told to wait in silence, until it was your turn. now i stood in the line naked with only my form in my hands, waiting until it was my turn, for further information.

everyone in line was nervous about what was coming, we only knew the basics of the new law that had been introduced. we were told nothing more. everyone knew one thing for sure. that there was no escape.

finally after a long time in line it was my turn, there were a few men with white doctor coats on, behind them all big thick syringes with blue liquid in them. the doctor I was standing in front of grabbed a thick syringe from the table behind him, squeezed some skin near my breast together with one hand and at that moment pushed the needle in and immediately injected the liquid into my body.

(Me)

it felt very painful and this disappeared immediately when all the liquid was pressed out of the syringe. then i was ordered to lie down on a bed. shortly after i lay down i felt sleepy and felt myself slowly drifting off. there must have been some kind of sleeping pill in that syringe, i thought! and at that moment i fell into a deep sleep.

i woke up and noticed that i was in another bed and had been moved to another room. i was lying here with 3 other men. and noticed that they had been awake for a while. i noticed that the other 2 men were quiet, not a word came out of their mouths. and saw them just staring in the mirror in amazement. at that moment i also tried to get out of bed, everything felt heavy and eventually i managed to get up and walk to a mirror to look at themselves in the mirror like those other men.

(Me)

at that moment, when i didn't recognize myself in the mirror. it seemed like my heart stopped beating for a moment! i tried to scream but no sound came out! just like the other 2 men.

i now saw a muscular man looking back at me in the mirror. that's strange i thought to myself. i was a little boy at 18 years old, with hardly any muscle mass a few hours ago. now i'm more muscular longer and then ……………….. then to my surprise i saw steel around my dick. i noticed at that moment that my dick was trying to get hard but felt that it wasn't going to work. and saw that it was secured with a lock. at that moment i looked to the side in amazement to see if the other 2 men had the same. and to my surprise they also had a cage around their dick.

one had a black plastic cage around his dick, and the other a complete steel cage with a kind of belt also made of steel attached to it.

to be continued.

[kw-transform]

ARMY in the year 2095 (part 2)

suddenly i saw a muscular man standing against the wall, who ordered us to come to him and take a shower. all of us responded to his orders immediately, without even thinking about it. it turned out that this guy had a cage around his dick just like us. but somehow this was different.

Suddenly the showers turned off and we were ordered to dry ourselves and then sit on the teble with our hands above our heads.

i went to the table to fool around as requested but couldn't resist sitting on the cage around my dick. this was immediately seen by the man who had ordered us to do this. he came and stood right in front of me. and said:

so boy, i expect you to obey what you are asked to do. and by the looks of it you find this a difficult order to obey! let me use you to set an example for all the other boys here who do obey my orders nicely and obediently. so that they think twice before they show disobedient behavior.

as you know you were asked to report yourselves, as stated in the new rules. this you all did. now you are strong handsome men, with absolutely no distractions from your dicks. you were little boys who now nothing can be seen and no one will recognize you as you were. so now that i have said that, i am ready to punish you for disobeying.

doctors come in, i have a disobedient whore for you. the two doctors walked to my table and started to tie me up. i was put on my back and was tied up at both wrists and ankles. i tried to scream but still no sound came out of my mouth. the doctors took 2 thick needles with a strange kind of liquid and saw that they sprayed this into my upper legs at the same time.

I noticed that I was slowly losing my vision and falling asleep.

I woke up in a small room, feeling strange and felt the urge to walk to the mirror that was opposite the bed.

the moment I stood in front of the mirror I saw to my surprise that I had become more muscular, I felt as if I had visited the gym 7 days a week.

before i could get a good look at myself i heard the door of the room unlock and 2 big men entered. both were dressed in leather, 1 of them had a big sports bag in his hands and immediately put it around the bed when he entered.

before i knew it the other man grabbed me by my wrists and pressed me against the wall where he immediately pulled my hands behind my back to secure them with handcuffs. then i felt a black hood being pressed over my mouth which was immediately secured with leather straps and a couple of locks. to make sure it wouldn't come off. i felt helpless, i could only watch as these 2 imposing men tackled me without saying anything.

at that moment i felt her loosen the chastity cage that was still on my cock, i was relieved. but to my horror a huge metal belt with a kind of cup was pulled out of the sports bag and this was fastened around my waist and the cup over my balls and cock. this time no lock was put on but a welding machine was used. the lock was welded in place. by the time i realized it was too late to resist.

but that was not all, there was also a kind of metal tie from the bag but this went around my neck immediately. this was secured and a metal line was attached to it. both were welded so that it stays in place. when they started pulling on the collar they said that I had to be ready for what was to come. I burst into tears and could do nothing else than do what I was told.

(to be continued) leave a message what you think. thx

[kw-transform]

The Hitcher

I am scared. I don’t scare easily but this guy has managed it.

My name is Den, I am slim but muscular, fit, brown hair – and currently locked in a cage in an old mine building somewhere in Colorado waiting, waiting for I don’t know what or who. I’m scared…

How on earth had this happened! I had to get from my university in Gunnison, Colorado back home. I was due at my brother’s home in Boulder. It’s my birthday. My 21st actually and he called me and told me that there was a last minute party for me with all my old high school friends and family and I had to get back quickly. Now I am not that fond of my family and most of my ‘friends’ at school had been anything but. I had never really fitted in and had a very different peer group now I was away from home in the high Rockies. That’s one reason I chose the University of Western Colorado – a long way from home both physically and demographically. However my brother was paying my fees. He’s a good guy and by far the best of the bunch. It was a shame though, I had planned a party back at my rooms with some good buddies from UWC. They were more like me; gay and rebellious!

My car was out, it had developed a flat tire yesterday for some reason and, try as I might, I could not get it to re-inflate. I am out of cash this month so it’s still sitting there, useless. I could just have afforded the gas to get home but a guy to fix the leak as well – no way. So I had to hitch. I walked along Highway 50 past the turning up to Crested Butte and kept looking back. Lots of cars, all speeding up as they left the town restrictions but no one was stopping for a hitcher. Partly my fault, I was wearing old bleached jeans, a black leather jacket and my high laced boots. The best way to hitch is in uniform, any uniform really; army, navy, since 9/11 a firefighter is guaranteed a lift in minutes. Dressing like me had the opposite effect!

Then I saw an old Toyota Landcruiser coming up the street. Really old. One of the first models, the one with the curved back end. Good condition though, black with blacked out side windows. It stopped and the window dropped smoothly. Now I know my cars and those old models did not have electric windows so this was obviously a rebuild. Not the kind of thing that stops when I have to hitch home!

At the wheel was a god. Now I’m not usually easily impressed but this guy! Powerfully built, a strong chest in a white T shirt that stretched over the muscles so I could see every one in detail. A tight waist circled by a thick black belt, double buckle hitching it tight at the top of a pair of thick leather jeans; his powerful thighs stretching the leather and a pair of heavy boots on his feet. His arms were like tree limbs, corded forearms ending in black gloves that gripped the wheel. What caught my attention was the leather bands strapped tight around his biceps and thick, wide leather bracers on his wrists. They were padlocked on and complete with a ‘D’ ring at the bottom. Also the tight shirt emphasized that underneath he was wearing a chest harness; you could see every strap and buckle almost better than if he had not been wearing anything at all!

My eyes were pulled to his face – a thick heavy ring through his nose and his head shaved but for a crest of hair that ran back from his forehead. A thick, wide leather collar circled his neck with D rings at each side and again this was padlocked on! My jaw dropped, I may even have licked my lips….

‘Like what you see?’ he said ‘Then get in boy’. He growled the comment in a deep, low voice that was not in the mood for discussion. Fuck, I did like what I saw. A lot.

I pulled open the door, climbed in and pulled it too behind me. Then heard a slight clunk as the locks went. The Toyota pulled away. ‘Put your seat belt on’ he said and I hastened to buckle up. As I clicked the lock I felt the belt go tight, an automatic tensioner I thought.

‘Where you headed?’ he asked in that deep growling voice and I explained my need to get to Boulder urgently. ‘I can take you where you need to be’ he said. It was an odd way to say it. Not really explicit. But I was not really listening at that point. I looked around me and immediately saw something that made me stop breathing. Hanging from the rear view mirror was a thick steel restraint. I licked my lips; they were suddenly very dry. He was smiling. ‘You still like what you see?’ he asked again and I nodded my head, not really feeling safe to speak; it might have come out as a squeak.

I love guys, I love leather and over the last couple of years I have come to love being tied up and restrained and meeting guys like me for fun and sex. There are more of us than you might think, even in the wilds of Colorado. Or perhaps especially in the wilds of Colorado!

The car pulled over and he reached for the steel bar. ‘It’s a long way, you want to get comfortable?’ he asked grinning. I nodded again. They were not ordinary cuffs. This was a short flat steel bar with loops on each end for a wrist. He pulled out a small hex key and undid the fastening, the ends hinged out. He held it out in front of me. ‘One wrist in each side’ he said. I hesitated. ‘NOW’ he barked and my hands leaped forwards resting my wrists in the cups on each end. He quickly folded the sides together wrapping the steel around my arms and slipped in the key, locking it tight.

My cock went hard. My arms were held in front of me, parallel and with my wrists about 6 inches apart held tight by a flat steel bar. What the fuck had I done! He grinned again and let out the clutch moving out back onto the road. He reached over and rubbed the large bump in my jeans. ‘Feels good huh?’ he asked. Again I nodded, still not feeling able to say anything…

‘You like steel?’ he asked ‘The feel of the rigid unforgiving metal holding you so you cant move?’ He must have thought me an idiot, as all I could do was nod again. I licked my lips and finally spoke ‘ Yes’ I croaked. ‘Yes what!’ he shouted. ‘Yes Sir?’ I said and he nodded. ‘Damn right – I became your master when you held out those hands boy’ he said looking ahead at the road and the grin on his face was getting wider.

‘Look down’ he commanded. I looked down at my boots and gasped. In the foot well was another steel bar with large steel loops at each end. I could see it was bolted to the bottom of the seat mounting. The car was stopping; the guy climbed out and walked around to my side. The locks clunked again and he pulled the door open. I was held tight by the seat belt. Not that I actually wanted to jump out. My common sense was on hold. He reached in and pulled my boots apart fitting my ankles into the loops and flipped them shut. Reaching into the glove box he pulled out a couple of padlocks and slipped them through the hasps and clicked them shut. Now the click of a padlock is, to me, a totally amazing sound; it embodies the soul of bondage. Straightening up he reached in and rubbed that bulge again. ‘Getting harder’ he commented. All I could do was nod again. He climbed back in and drove on. I experimented and found that I could not move my legs. They were held rigid about 18 inches apart. The seat belt held me back in the chair. I could move my arms around though. Not much as the wrists were rigidly clamped but a little. I could see him watching me as I wriggled and tested the extent of movement.

‘No good,’ he said ‘you’re still much too free’ and pulled over again. This time he opened the back door behind me. I turned my head straining to see what he was doing. Then I felt him grasping my left arm and saw him wrap a thick black leather strap around it, just above my elbow. He buckled it tight and again I heard the click of a padlock. He did the same with my right arm. Then I felt them both pulled back hard until my wrists were tight against my gut, the wrist bar digging into my arms as they were hauled up. I gasped and tried to wriggle and, for the first time he laughed. ‘Don’t worry’ he said chuckling ‘you’re going nowhere for a while!’. My heart pumped. What did he mean, what was going to happen? Most of all what the fuck had I got into! ‘That’s enough’ I said ’let me go now and I will get another lift. This is too much!’

He launched again and reached around the seat. I felt pressure on my mouth! I clamped my jaw tight and refused to open my mouth, shaking my head from side to side. His other hand came round and caught me by the nose, pinching it tight. I pulled my head from side to side trying to break his hold but he was too strong, much too strong. After a minute or so I had to open my mouth and gasp for air. In went a long thick rubber gag. One designed to be like a cock, about 4 inches long and an inch across. I could feel the shape of it as it slipped over my tongue pressing on the back of my throat… It had a thick strap across the front that he pulled behind my neck and I could feel him pull it tight and buckle it up. Another click from another padlock. I heard the back door slam and he climbed back in behind the wheel and pulled out onto the road. Then I realized that with the blacked out windows no one could see me – I was strapped into the seat of an unknown car with a guy I did not know with no way to move my arms, legs or body and silenced by a long gag that was tickling my gag reflex constantly.

I could turn my head and look at the guy. He was still grinning, he was reaching over and rubbing my bulging cock again and broke out into another of those deep chuckles ‘Getting harder’ he said ‘you really do get off on his; great I need a bit of fun’.

I wondered what he meant, what else he had in mind. Nothing I could do about it though. I could see him watching me in the mirror as he drove. He had repositioned it so he could look at me. He licked his lips. Then he reached over and began to pinch my left nipple. He tweaked it and squeezed, hard. I MMMrrrpphhhed round my gag and shook my head, flailing from side to side.

‘Cant be having that’ he growled. Just getting started. The car stopped again and he climbed out. I heard the back door open and there was clinking and rustling. I felt the car sag as he climbed in behind me. Suddenly I was plunged into darkness as he pulled a thick leather hood down over my head. I could see by the light coming through that there were two small holes and then they moved on down and settled under my nose. The leather tightened and I could feel the slow increase in pressure as he laced it up. Then the vibration of a zip being pulled down. Then pressure around my neck and realized that he was doing up a collar. A slight click again and it was locked on. I was in complete darkness, my mouth was clamped tight over the long rubber gag and I could feel thick padding. No sound except the harsh panting of my own breath…

This was a first for me, I had not been hooded like this before and my breathing got very fast and ragged as I began to panic. Suddenly I felt his strong arms round me from the back and just heard him say ‘You’re OK, relax’ and he stroked my body. I don’t know why but it was calming and reassuring and I did, indeed start to relax. My breathing smoothed out and my heart slowed, still pounding but not so hard anymore. I felt and heard some movement on the side of my head and it was pulled slightly to one side. The same on the other side and this time I was pulled straight with the back of my head tight on the headrest. I tried to shake my head and realized that he had strapped it tight so I could not even move my head at all! In fact I could not move anything. Legs, arms, body or head. The car moved off, I could feel the movement. It was surreal. This went on for quite some time. Every so often I felt the guy’s hand moving over my body. Following the lines of my muscles, tweaking my tits, massaging my now quite wet cock.

The movement stopped again. I waited to see what would happen. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in my right tit, sharp and vicious. What the fuck! It was repeated on my left – he had put titclamps onto my nipples! The bastard, it hurt! They were digging into the ends of my nibs and it felt like fire! Slowly the level of pain dropped a bit and I could feel the car move off. Then I realized that every time we went over a bump my tits were pulled and a weight tapped against my sternum.

This time he did not stop for a long while. The exploration of my body continued as his hand moved over me continually, massaging in one place, pinching another, yanking the chain on my tits repeatedly.

He also kept massaging my cock and it got harder and harder. Somehow he seemed to know when he had gone far enough and he would stop just I was about to cum. Fucking frustrating!

The feeling was intense. Totally restrained and unable to stop him from feeling and playing with me! I still did not even know his name! He was massaging my cock again with his right hand as we went on down the road.

Then the surface changed and the car started to slide a little on the corners, this was a 4WD so it must be on a gravel track. It jerked to a halt. We had arrived, but where the fuck are we?

His door slammed shut and I felt the rush of cool air as my door was opened. I could just hear his voice ‘Don’t try to run. There’s open shafts around.’ My blood went cold. His hands moved around, undoing the straps from my head and the one holding my arms back loosened. I felt relief in my wrists where they had been pulled tight back. The seatbelt came off and suddenly I could move my feet, he had opened the ankle shackle.

He pulled me from the car, holding me up as I wobbled. I stood, arms locked in front of my body and my head sealed into the thick leather hood, unable to see anything around me. He started to pull me forwards, guiding me with a firm, strong hand on my elbow. I walked carefully forwards and felt the surface under my boots change from gravel to wood boards, the sound of our footfalls began to echo slightly.

‘Steps down’ I heard and stopped immediately. He pulled both arms together and I realized that he was in front of me backing down and I edged forward and felt the step. Slowly I reached out with my boot and felt the stairway tread and inched my way down. The steps gave slightly as I put my weight on them.

When we got to the bottom he moved around behind and continued to guide me forwards. My thighs suddenly hit something and I jerked to a stop. His boot tapped me on the inside of each ankle pushing my legs apart. I felt him wrapping both boots in straps and he pulled them a little further apart till I was stretching. Then they would not move. Locked again! His big hand pressed into the back of my shoulders and I had to bend over until my chest met a padded surface. There was a swift change and I realized that I was now held down by his big boot and his hands were pulling a thick belt tight over my waist, under my jacket, holding me down. The hex key came out and he released my wrists from the tight bar. Even pinioned as I was I breathed a sigh of relief; it had been getting fucking tough. Then he pulled my jacket off and took hold of my T shirt. With hardly an effort he ripped it off my back and threw it away.

He then pulled my right wrist out and folded my arm and I found my forearm wresting on a kind of shelf. Again I felt cold steel and turned my head to use the limited vision I had; he was padlocking my wrist down with a steel clamp! I struggled and waved my other arm around. He backhanded me, hard, right across my face. Even with the hood on it stung a lot and I was momentarily dazed. In that moment my left wrist was pushed into place and locked too.

I felt him loosen my belt and then he pulled my jeans down as far as they would go, which was not far! I felt the cold air on my butt and heard him chuckle. I was going ‘commando’ and my butt and cock were now exposed.

He began to massage my butt cheeks with his gloved hands. Then he started to slap and spank me, working slowly from side to side. At first it was pleasant, almost invigorating but then he began to spank harder. It stopped for a short while and then I jerked, clenching every muscle in my body. My jaw clamped onto the gag and I shouted through the leather of my hood. It came out as a wild MMrrrggpphh. Sharp pain ran through my butt, he had hit me with a strap. It came again and again, getting harder and harder each time. I was jerking and shouting into my gag but he just went on. The pain built and eventually I was shuddering and crying into my hood. He stopped and went back to that sensuous massage! His leather clad hands moving gently over my butt cheeks felt amazing after the painful strokes.

Again I jerked as I felt something touch my ass. It was cold and hard. It moved off but I felt the guy’s finger working its way into my tight hole. He was rubbing some lube round my ass and pushing it in. Then the cold steel plug was pushing against my ring and slowly forcing it’s way in; stretching me wider and wider. With a surge it went in and my muscle closed clamping it in. This was new to me, it had hurt a lot going in but that had stopped now and I just felt full and exited as it applied pressure to my prostate. He pulled my jeans back up after giving my cheeks another rub with his gloved hand.

The wrist clamps and the belly strap were undone and, with the help of his strong arms I was able to slowly stand upright. I felt him move behind me and then he grabbed my right wrist twisting it behind my back. One hand held it there and the other wrapped a leather strap round my wrist and I realized it was like the one he was wearing. When it was tight I heard the click of a padlock and then a ‘snap’ sound. A rope rustled as it ran through a pulley and my arm was hauled upwards. He calmly repeated the procedure with my left wrist and I ended up spread-eagled.

His strong fingers massaged my shoulders, ran down my chest and he kneaded my belly. ‘Where’s the muscles?’ he asked. ‘You will wish you had some when I have finished! Not enough padding!’

He stepped back and I felt a light tickling on my shoulder and realized it was a flogger. I Mmmrrpphhed into my hood and shook my head violently. I had been flogged a few weeks ago at a party that had got out of hand. It had fucking hurt and I did not want to be whipped again! That guy had gone to far. Then I stiffened and froze. Thinking back this was the same guy! ‘So you remember now?’ he said in my ear.

He started slowly and almost carefully, warming my shoulders and back with light strokes. This was OK. Actually quite good as the gentle sting kissed my skin. He stopped.

When he started again it was not soft. A much longer flogger and driven with much more force. He worked his way over my back from side to side as I ‘Mewed’ into my hood. This was even harder than before and I felt tears break out in my eyes. The flogger moved down and he worked on the side of my chest; first one side and then the other. The ends of the lash curled round onto my chest and stung every time. One caught my nipple and I spasmed and shook. He stopped ‘OK we will do the front properly.’ He said and moved back into my limited sight. Standing back he brought the flogger across and it impacted on the left side of my chest. The clamp on my left tit came off and I almost fainted. Then a backhand and he hit the right side. Knowing what to expect I had clamped my jaw tight but even so the pain left me shaking. He went like a machine, not slowing or changing the rhythm working his way up and down my front.

When finally my head went down he stopped and chuckled. He squatted down and I felt the restraints on my boots go loose.

I felt the ropes loosen and my arms came down, as I slumped towards the ground he gathered me up and threw me over his shoulder as if I weighed nothing. I was too far gone to struggle.

He set my feet to the ground and pushed me back upright, a strap went around my chest holding me up. Then he pushed my arms down beside my body. Bending over I felt my boots pulled apart again and they were locked to the side of whatever I was in. Stepping back he brought a steel bar door round and closed it in front of me with a clang. Holding it shut he reached for three padlocks from a box beside him and snapped them into hasps all the way down the door.

So here I am, standing in a tight steel cage in an old building high in the Rockies. My wrists by my side, my boots pulled to the sides and restrained, my head locked in a thick leather hood with a long gag tickling the back of my throat.  A steel plug stuck up my ass and a fire over my butt, back and chest but worst of all my tits ached like never before.

That voice again ‘Close your eyes for a moment then open them slowly’ he said. I felt his hand on the outside of the hood fiddling with something and the pressure over my head reduced. I slowly opened my eyes and realized that he had taken off a blindfold and I could now see through little pin prick holes in front of each eye. There, standing before me, next to the god, was my brother, laughing. ‘Happy Birthday!’ he shouted.

Steellock December 2015