By Takeo

Day 1 – Tuesday – With my Sir

I have no choice but to wait in this position. Anyone who has ever tried something similar knows that being like this on your knees, sitting on your feet, doesn’t look difficult from the outside, but is far from obvious when you’re strapped in and can only move a little. Fortunately, my rangers are rigid enough that I can sit on my heels without mobilizing the flexibility of my ankles too much. On the other hand, this also means that the pressure on my knees is greater, and Franz was careful not to provide any soft support, so I’m kneeling on the concrete floor.

As time goes by, I am surprised by the effectiveness – despite the simplicity – of the bondage. I am not constrained in the sense that my movements aren’t totally hindered as they were previously when I was in the cage, but the chains linked behind my back keep my arms in a fairly strict upright position, and prevent me from standing up or leaning forward. My only means of relieving the strain on my bonds would be to flip over onto my side on the floor, but I want to hold this position so that Flo finds me presentable, and not stranded on the floor like a worm.

The ball gag is quite large, and I am having trouble swallowing. Gently, I drool into my hood. The canvas hood is quite tight and has two holes for the nose, but they cannot be very big. Enough to force me to breathe calmly and concentrate on my breath, but not so much that I am afraid I have been left unattended like this. The tit clamps are starting to sting badly and I don’t know how long I will be able to stand them. That is what worries me most, what happens if I cannot stand them any longer but nobody is there to take them off?

I hear the door unlock and open, then footsteps. I stand up straight and don’t move, wanting to make the best possible impression on my Sir. I try to interpret the noises I hear, but it is difficult. I seem to hear a bag being dropped, the sound of zippers and chains. A running tap and a toilet flush. I stand still, feeling like a sculpture in the middle of a room that no one is touching. I am extremely frustrated to be tied up like this in a display position, but that the guy who came in – is it really Florian? – is not paying any attention to me. I am tempted to whine to attract attention, but I restrain myself; that is probably not an acceptable attitude for a boy.

And then finally I feel a presence in front of me. And suddenly a sharp pain in my tits! By reflex I bend forward, and the collar squeezes my throat and my hands are pulled up, I would probably have toppled forward if a hand had not held me back.

“Careful boy, we wouldn’t want you to fall on your first day and not be able to enjoy your week.”

I recognize Florian’s voice. At that moment, I am relieved he is here and realize how much I needed to feel his presence. I would like him to take me in his arms, but obviously that is not his intention.

He plays for a while with the chain that connects my tit clamps, alternating between gentleness and firmness. It hurts, but I try to resist as best I can, not wanting to give him any sign that this is too much for me. But it is painful and I can hardly stand it. Yet my cock is swollen and pushing into his cage, also causing frustration and discomfort.

Then I feel Florian’s hands on each of the clamps and their grip loosen. I apprehend the pain, but the gesture is controlled and very slow, so that I do not feel the usual spike of pain as the detachment takes place. I can see that Florian is trying not to be too harsh with me, and I am sure he is well aware of my condition and apprehension.

Despite the hood, I can hear the clanking of the tits chain in Florian’s hands, probably as he puts them in his pocket. Then he steps behind me and removes the handcuffs shackling my ankles.

“Get up!”

As best I can, I manage to get to my feet, my hands still tied behind my back and to my collar, my legs numb from the position I was in.

Florian takes me by the arm and guides me through the apartment. I try to think about my position in relation to the layout, and I seem to be heading for the door next to the cell. I can feel Florian’s grip, as he holds my upper arm firmly in his hand and manages, without any words, to guide me without me bumping into anything.

Florian lets go of my arm and lets me know that I am to stand still in this position. I feel movement behind me. The chain linking my wrists to the collar and the collar itself are removed, bringing relief when my arms can relax, no longer being pulled upwards. Then a handcuff is released on my left wrist. These handcuffs were starting to be painful, and I am not usually a big fan of metal handcuffs as I find them uncomfortable over time (but is that the point?). So I was delighted to have them removed.

In a swift move, Florian passes my hands in front of me and immediately puts back the handcuff that had just been removed. So I find myself handcuffed again, with my hands in front of me. I grunt a little in my gag, which is starting to become difficult to bear, but I understand that Florian has no intention of leaving me free to move.

I am then firmly gripped by two hands that guide me and sit on something that was behind me. Probably a chair, made of hard material – wood perhaps – with a vertical backrest. I hear Florian fussing around me, then a clicking sound similar to a belt, and I feel something tighten around my torso. I think I understand that it is some kind of leather strap that binds me to the back of the chair. Within moments, two more straps are installed, forcing my upper body upright against the back of the chair. The whole thing is tight enough for me to feel permanently constrained – my torso pushes against the straps with every breath I take – but the sensation is not unpleasant. The feel of the leather on my bare skin is exciting.

Florian then spreads my legs and proceeds in the same way, placing straps around my thighs and ankles, which are fixed against a vertical panel between the seat of the chair and the floor. So I am not sitting on a normal chair, but probably a bondage chair. I have always fantasized about this specific type of furniture – chairs, tables, crosses, etc. – for their slightly medieval aspect, but above all for the attachment possibilities they offer. And I must admit that so far, I am not disappointed, as my cock, which is trying to grow in its cage, can testify.

With a sure hand, Florian removes the handcuffs and secures my wrists to the armrests. Then he continues the process and attaches my arms by a total of 10 straps to the chair. I test my bonds and the restraints are perfect; I can hardly move anything, only my head, hands and feet. The rest does not move a muscle. I try to move all my limbs with real strength, but the bondage resists.

“Looks like you’re still a little too free with your movements.”

What does he mean? I cannot move anything, I cannot see what can be improved in the bondage. Then I feel Florian grab my left foot and attach a strap probably fixed to the floor, totally immobilizing my foot, before proceeding in the same way on the right side.

“Put your hand flat.”

I comply and my right hand is threaded through something made of a material that could be leather. I immediately think of mitts, and start to bend my fist to slip it on, but the structure of the thing prevents me from doing so, my hand has to stay flat in a kind of rather hard mitten. I feel a fastener being tightened around my wrist, and then the mitt itself is attached to the armrest of the chair. Florian quickly proceeds in the same way on the other side, so that I find myself completely immobilized. Only my head is still free to move, and my toes in the rangers. Even my fingers in the mittens can barely move. In this situation, my excitement continues to grow, and my cock locked in the belt starts to become painful.

When he is finished, I hear Florian go to the other end of the room and come back with something that makes a lot of clicking noises.

The laces of the canvas hood are loosened, and the hood is removed. I thought I would need a moment to get used to the light, but the room is dark, lit only by a few red lights. Tilting my head, I observe the position I am in. As I had sensed, Florian has secured me to a black wooden bondage chair, equipped with a multitude of black leather straps, wide and thick. I cannot see my feet, but they must be attached to footrests belonging to the chair, and my hands are effectively trapped in thick leather flat mitts attached to the chair.

Florian stands behind me, I cannot see him.

“Now I’m going to remove the gag, but remember the first rule, you’re forbidden to speak boy.”

He removes the gag and I am relieved not having the tension on my jaw muscles anymore. But the relief is short, as immediately a new gag is forced into my mouth. I realize it is a muzzle again. But not the same as the one Franz had made me wear; this one seems to be thicker and softer at the same time. The smell tells me it is not made of leather, but rather a neoprene muzzle. Florian must remember that I love swimming outfits made out of this material, but I did not know that such muzzles also existed. In fact, from the start of this experience, Florian seems to have my fetishes in mind – mainly sportswear. And I remember that I had already told him several times about my experiences at recruit school – army is still compulsory in Switzerland – which may have something to do with the fact that I wear military pants and rangers. I had never really considered uniforms to be a fetish, but the outfit I am wearing, and the fact that I had seen Franz in uniform before, makes me in a horniness state that I cannot deny.

The muzzle has a pleasantly soft gag that is much bigger than the previous one. It fills my mouth completely and causes me to start panicking, for fear of choking. I have to show  him that it is too big, that it is not going to fit. Vomiting while wearing a gag has always been terrifying for me. But Florian fixes each strap with an expert hand, never coming in front of me. During this time, I try to control my breathing and relax, and finally I accept the fact that I have to try harder, and I gradually start to put up with the gag and conquer my fear. It is big, yes, but I can still breathe properly, and it does not cause any gag reflexes.

Florian locks each of the ties with a small padlock. I am now a total prisoner of my situation. I try to turn my head to assess my situation, but Florian grabs it and slams it against the back of the chair. Fasteners are attached at several points on the muzzle and a wide strap is looped around my forehead, holding my head firmly upright against the backrest.

At this point, no further movement is possible. I pull on all my straps, but I cannot move more than a few millimeters. I feel as if only my eyes and toes are free to move, although with the straps holding my rangers, they are a little constrained too.

It is only then that I become aware of the context I am in. I am sitting on this bondage chair, ~2 m from a red-brick wall. In front of me, hanging from an eyelet fixed into the wall, is a large, thick metal collar with two handcuffs attached. It is heavy stuff, the kind of “heavy metal bondage” I have seen on the internet. My field of vision is very limited. On the right, I see a cage. Or rather a double cage, with an upper part with large horizontal bars, a leather padded floor and a dog bowl inside, and a very dark, low lower part with a metallic wire mesh door.

Florian has left the room, and I am alone for a moment. Then he reappears and, for the first time, steps in front of me.

Florian is also dressed in a military uniform. Like the pants I’m wearing, this is the TAZ90 uniform used by the Swiss army. It is not common in the fetish scene, since it is theoretically forbidden to wear it outside armed forces bases, so it is hard to find. From my point of view, it is aesthetically quite stylish. Florian wears official-style rangers, and the sleeves of his jacket are rolled up over his arms.

Florian is a little taller than me (I am rather short) and is not a rambunctious fitness rat. I know that he has a lot of complexes about his physique, notably the presence of a little belly, typical of guys in the forties, and he has mentioned to me several times that he thinks he is a bit fat. But objectively, that is not true at all. Sure, he does not have Franz’s abs – and neither do I – but he is naturally rather slim, well-built, with beautiful, powerful arms and hands. His face has a charming smile and kind eyes, the kind of guy who can give you a hug if something goes wrong. But as much as his looks, it is his attitude that I love about him. He exudes a natural authority that immediately makes me want to be at his service and do whatever he wants me to do.

I get the impression that he sees himself as a bit of a slacker, whereas I see him as a powerful dom and I want him to use his authority over me to make me submit to his desires.

And I am not going to be disappointed…

Florian grabs a chair and places it backwards in front of me, sitting on it with his legs on either side of the backrest. This attitude alone perfectly reflects his dominant side: he is in charge.

“Welcome to Berlin, boy takeo. I hope your journey went well, but from what I hear, you did not do too badly.”

He pulls out a sheet of paper from his pants pocket.

“Just so we are clear one last time, I am just going to repeat the rules that apply for your stay here.”

And he reads back to me the rules I had tried to learn with Franz a few hours earlier:

• The boy shall not speak, unless allowed to.
• The boy will always address his Master by using the word Sir.
• The boy shall immediately obey his Master’s orders.
• The boy shall always give his best to satisfy his Master.
• The boy will never be allowed to touch his sex.
• The boy will never cum without the Master’s permission.
• The boy will never eat sitting at the table.
• The boy will be collared at all time.
• The boy is never allowed to wear underwear.
• The boy will wear the clothes ordered by the Master, even in public.
• If the boy is on loan or under the supervision of another Master, he will obey him as if he were his Master.
• If the boy is in contact with another submissive, he will remain inferior to him and obey him as if he were his Master.
• The above rules also apply in public.
• Shall the boy break any of the above rules, he will be punished.
• In case of recidivism, punishment will be increased.

Whereas these rules seemed too extreme when I first read them, they now seem, in the position I am in and in front of Florian, if not exciting at least a little more acceptable.

“And I would also like to remind you of the positions Franz taught you”:

• Wait: Standing, legs apart at shoulder width, hands behind the back.
• Inspection: same but with the hands behind the head, fingers interlocked.
• Attention: Standing, legs together, hands at sides of body.
• Wall: Standing facing wall, hands on the wall above the head, body leaning forward, legs spread.
• Kneel: kneeling, sitting on heels, knees together, hands on thighs.
• Kneel inspection: kneeling, sitting on heels, knees apart, hands behind head.
• All 4: On all fours, presenting ass.”

I realize that it is not my biggest turn-on to put myself in such positions in front of a guy; I had much rather be tied up tight like I am now. But on the other hand, when I did it with Franz, it was pretty exciting at the time.

“Now takeo, I need to really know how you feel, in order to check whether what I have planned for you this week is feasible, or whether I need to adjust the program. Remember, this is all just a game, and while I expect you to give it your best shot, you also need to enjoy this trip we will make together.”

Phew, we are on the same wavelength. I recognize here that I can trust him and that he is in a state of mind that suits me.

“Now answer the questions I am going to ask you frankly. Since you cannot move much, you wave your eyes at me. Left to right to say no, up and down to say yes.

“Do you like the program so far?”

I don’t know what to say. I have been shaken up in my image of being at Florian’s service for a few days, and some of my limits have already been reached or exceeded since I left home. But I cannot deny that I am very excited by the situation and that so far, even if some moments have been tough, I am pretty proud of what I have done.

Up and down.

“Were you surprised by the turn of events on the train?”

Up and down.

“Did you like it?”

Up and down.

“Did you like the fact that you were left alone, handcuffed when you got off the train and had to walk across town like that?”

Reasonably no. My heart had never beaten so fast in my life and I felt very uncomfortable. Although at the time I felt a certain excitement, it is clearly not something I am drawn to and looking for.

Left-right.

“Okay. We will take it slow, don’t worry. Now did you like Franz’s grip?”

Honestly it was something incredible. Unsettling, scary, but incredible.

Up and down.

“Would you like him to take care of you again during this week?”

Up and down.

“Would you like to have sex with him?”

Left-right. Indeed I was very excited when Franz put his crotch in front of my face, but as I have mentioned before, I am not looking for sex with guys, I am looking for their strength and authority.

“Okay too bad, I think he has got a hankering for it… Did you enjoy the bondages you have been tied up in so far?.”

Up and down. Up and down. Even though the position in the cell was difficult and very demanding, I cannot deny that I loved being tied up like this, on my knees waiting for Florian and now on the bondage chair. I love being fixed without being able to move and with no way of escaping shackles.

“All right! Is there anything currently difficult to handle – chastity belt, gag, position – that makes you wish you could get out of this position?”

Honestly I’m pretty good. I’m relaxed now and the gag is bearable. I can hardly feel the belt and the position is rather pleasant.

Left-right.

“Okay perfect, because you are going to be in there for a while… Now here is what is planned for the next few days. As I know you are particularly keen on being tied up, bondage will be the watchword of the week, you will spend very little time without being tied up in some way. The bondage Franz did in the cell proves that you are tough on this point, and we will be able to do some pretty elaborate things. But you will also have to give of yourself. We are going to make you progress in your submissive position, something we haven’t really experienced together yet. Remember, I am the master and you are the slave. Now that you know the rules, you will have to apply them to the letter. And know that if you have to be punished for breaking the rules, it will be real punishment, sometimes beyond your limits. Believe me, you will prefer to avoid any punishment at all, it won’t be pseudo punishment like you can read on the internet.”

My heart is racing. It is true that I have had a few times of virtual interactions with other doms where punishments rather seemed to be part of the scenario as such, the submissive looking to be punished, to receive a spanking for example. Here, that doesn’t seem to be the case, and it is not without worrying me.

“There are three things you can say at any time. The word ‘yellow’ if you need to go to the toilet. It is up to me, however, whether you can go or not. The word “orange” if the situation you are in or the treatment you are undergoing is too intense. This word reduces the intensity, but the sequence in progress will not be interrupted. The word “red” is intended for something unbearable, and immediately stops the action in progress. Be aware, however, that for every use of the word orange, you will have to spend a certain number of hours isolated in a bondage bag.”

A certain number of hours? What does that mean?

“And if you use the word red, everything stops and you are on the first train back to Switzerland.”

The die is cast. I understand that, as I have come to expect, Florian has a very specific idea in mind and that this is in keeping with what we have discussed, but that it will cost me to influence the treatment that will be imposed on me. This both frightens and excites me. I hope to be able to undergo the treatments that await me without having to activate one of the safe-words, but will I be able to?

“As you wished, from now on you are my slave.”

I am surprised by the term, I am more used to being called boy.

“And until you return to Switzerland, such is your status, day and night, in every moment of daily life. You will see, we will be exploring your kinks together both in bondage, the fetish outfits you love and the SM activities we have already often discussed. But more than that, we are going to make progress in the areas you know less about, and I am going to teach you how to push your limits. It has already started when I put you in other people’s hands, and we will take it further. As you can imagine, it is very hard for the dom to look after a submissive 24/7, and I always have to be available to ensure your safety. So I will be sporadically assisted by other people.”

What does this mean? Is he talking about Franz, or about other people? I try to move my head, but the restraints prevent me.

“By the way, since you like sports and sportswear, you will have to follow a daily sports session with Franz, he will take care of that too, and that will allow you to stretch out from the positions in which you will be immobilized. But I think things are clear now, do you have any questions, slave?”

Of course, I have thousands. They have been racing through my head ever since Florian started talking to me. But in the end, they are all about what is going to happen to me and what I am going to go through. But at the same time, it excites me. I am really in Sir Flo’s hands now and I am looking forward to doing my best to be a good boy. More like a good slave now.

“Alright slave, let the fun begin.”

At this point Sir Flo gets up, removes the chair he was sitting on and approaches me. I see a big bulge in his pants at crotch level. He too is obviously excited by the situation.

He climbs on the chair and puts his crotch in my face. Even through the muzzle and straps, I can feel his hard cock under his uniform, which he takes great pleasure in rubbing against my face.

Then he reaches down and whispers in my ear.

“And we are going to take you to the next level sex-wise too, no more straight boy who just wants to be tied up by guys, we’re going to take it up a notch.”

I don’t know what to expect. I have already sucked Sir Flo, and I have already offered him my ass, but that is not what I enjoy with guys, and he knows it.

“There, now by the time I finish getting ready, you will have plenty of time to observe all the equipment that is available to torment you, and believe me, we will have time to use it all, and even more!”

Sir Flo grabs the chair and spins it around, pushing it back against the wall. I now face the room. I watch him leave the room, not missing a glance at his sexy ass highlighted by the uniform, and he closes the door on his way out.

I am in a corner of the room and can thus get a fairly general view of this room, which I understand to be the apartment’s playroom. It is completely full of all kinds of objects.

In the corner of the room on my left, the two stacked cells I had already glimpsed. I notice now that the lower cell is lower, perhaps 80 cm high at most, and is closed on three sides, with only the wire mesh door providing a view of the cage’s interior. Next to it is a gynecological-style chair, with stirrups for fixing ankles and a whole heap of straps. In the enfilade is a beige metal cot with a mattress that appears to be wrapped in beige plastic. Again, straps – probably leather – are attached in various places. From where I am standing I cannot see all the details, but it seems to me that the straps are attached to the bed and that other straps are attached to the straps, a bit like the segufix fastening systems I have seen on the internet.

In the middle of the room stands an imposing wooden frame made up of beams some 10 cm thick. Various attachment points are screwed into the wood and, with a little imagination, this frame probably offers plenty of possibilities for various bondages. A padded leather sling hangs from this frame. Not being much into ass work, I am apprehensive about what might happen to me if I am attached to this thing.

On the wall behind, a shelf with various toys and equipment: hoods, gags, sex toys, gas mask and probably other things I cannot see from where I am.

Next to the sling, in the corner to my right, a sort of padded leather spanking bench. In the enfilade, I can see a padded black leather panel with multiple fasteners presumably for securing the submissive in a standing spread-eagle position. I cannot see what’s along the wall directly next to the bondage chair I am in, but I can make out what appears to be a rim chair on the floor.

A bit everywhere in the room are hanging straitjackets, harnesses, bondage bags and various restraints. On the wall, artistic photos of guys undergoing various treatments.

The playroom isn’t that huge, but the equipment is very impressive – I have never seen anything like it. My excitement rises very quickly at the sight of all these objects. Even more so in the bondage I am in, where my whole body is restricted, pressed against the hard wood of the chair.

I thought Sir Flo would be back soon, but absolutely not. I am left on this chair, alone in this room, for what seems like an eternity. Fortunately, the position is quite comfortable. Even though my muscles are aching over time, I feel no tension and let myself go, plunging into subspace, halfway between dream and reality. There is no clock in the room, of course, and I do not know how long I have been tied to this chair. If I had to guess, I would say 2-3 hours.

Time passes and nothing happens. Still, I am starting to feel a bit seized up and I want to get out of this bondage, to change position. No matter how hard I pull on my ties, nothing moves. I am starting to lose patience and grumble into my gag, hoping to get Sir Flo’s attention. But again, nothing happens. I notice that, as before when Franz had tied me up in the cell, in those moments when I am struggling in my bonds, really wanting to get out, my cock hardens in my cage. So I understand that bondage is really what motivates me.

I have often read in internet publications that “bondage begins when the desire to stop and be released begins.” I have always thought that this did not apply to me, since I feel a strong excitement in being tied up, the process itself, gradually being less and less free to move, feeling the top putting his plan into action. But I do not necessarily need to be held in positions for long, I can be totally satisfied with a short bondage if it is well executed and the feeling is there.

But in the position I am in now, and even more so when Franz has tied me up in the cage, I agree that wanting to get out of a bondage after already several hours tied up, without being able to do it, and knowing that it is only possible if the dom decides to do it, is really very arousing. So it is not just the physical constraint that provides excitement, but also the psychological torture of having to endure a situation from which there is no escape, which is both pleasurable and difficult to bear.

Tied to this chair with no possibility of movement, the position is neither dangerous nor too uncomfortable. In theory, Sir Flo could leave me in this position for a long time without any real problem. But after this first day – I don’t know what time it is, but I would say around 6 p.m. – my muscles are aching and I really need to move.

The door next to me opens and Sir Flo enters, still in his military uniform. He smiles at me and wordlessly begins to undo the ties that bind me to the chair. The calmness of the situation and his sure, gentle movements make my spirit float above the room. I feel good, and instead of fearing or dreading what comes next, I look forward to future physical contact with Sir Flo. I feel safe, despite the fact that his words about the week’s events are still echoing in my head.

After undoing all the straps, Sir Flo unhooks the imposing metal handcuffs hanging on the wall behind the chair and locks them on my wrists. They are connected by a few links of a heavy and large chain. He then gently removes the muzzle and, reminding me of the rules that have been reread to me, I remain silent. He then places the large metal collar that was on the wall with the handcuffs and connects it to the handcuffs with a large chain. It is relatively long, but not long enough for my arms to be stretched.

Still without speaking, Sir Flo lifts me from the chair and drags me down the hall and into the cell Franz had locked me in when I arrived.

After such bondage, and not having seen Sir Flo for several months, I had expected physical contact, but obviously this was not in his plans.

I wonder what I should do. Having received no specific instructions, I sit down on the bed and move my limbs until I regain some forgotten mobility.

Sir Flo returns with a metal tray of food. It is very similar to the prison trays you see in the movies, with the food directly poured on the tray.  He slides it through a gap between the bars and says to me:

“Here slave, you must be hungry. It’s 9pm, you must be tired, you’re going to eat and we’ll get you ready for the night, you’ve earned some rest.”

9pm?! So I spent 5 or 6 hours tied up in that chair. I knew I had spent a lot of time there, but I was not thinking that much, maybe I dozed off?

But Sir Flo is right, I am hungry. I am not quite sure how I am supposed to eat, having received no precise instructions. I just remember one of the rules: “The boy will never eat sitting at the table.” So I avoid placing my tray on the little table and put it on my lap. Probably sensing my hesitation, Sir Flo says:

“You can eat like that, most of the time you’ll be on the floor, but now you’ve earned the right to eat sitting down.”

So I start eating a rather healthy, mainly vegetable, appetizing meal. All the while, Sir Flo is standing there staring at me, causing me an embarrassment I am struggling to conceal. I would like to talk to him, but I know I am not allowed to. I would like him to take me in his arms, but that is obviously not going to happen. So I eat quickly under my master’s watchful eye.

When I have finished my meal, I hand the tray back through the same gap in the bars. Sir Flo leaves with it and I hear him fiddling in the kitchen. When he returns, he opens the gate and takes me by the chain that connects my collar to my handcuffs, like a leash, and guides me into the bathroom.

“You have 10 minutes to wash and shower.”

This kind of outing reminds me of recruit school. Except it was not 10min, but rather 2. And except that we were not equipped with irons.

He closes the door behind me and I hear the latch close from outside.

After the journey and the hard day, I am glad to be able to shower. Sir Flo knows I am a stickler for hygiene, and passing myself under a hot shower does me a world of good, even if the operation is made rather complicated by the shackles. I do not really know how to clean my private parts with the imposing chastity belt, so I direct the shower jet in every direction I can, to get the best possible result.

After using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I am just about ready when the door opens again. Ready but naked, I haven’t had time to put the military pants and rangers back on. I make the move to bend over to do so when Sir Flo interrupts me.

“No need for that.”

And he pulls me out of the bathroom by the chain.

By this time I am tired and relaxed from the shower. I just want a nice comfortable bed and a good night’s sleep. But I have a feeling that is not going to happen…

Sir Flo pulls me by the chain into the playroom. I am standing in the doorway of the room, naked with a Carrara chastity belt, metal shackles on my wrists and a collar around my neck, the weight of which is beginning to show.

Sir Flo turns back to the chair on which I was tied and grabs some more imposing irons which he places on my ankles. They too are connected only by a few links of a large chain. Then he walks over to the shelf and returns with something in his hands, which he brandishes at me.

“Do you know what this is? It’s an isolation hood, very handy for putting the boy in his subspace for the night.”

And he slips the hood over my head. It is a model I have seen on the internet, browsing the Mister S Leather website. The kind of thick hood, padded around the eyes and ears, with leather straps to complete the look and feeling.

I feel him zip down the back of my head and then lace the cords. As he does so, I feel the tension building, my head becoming trapped and constrained in this thing. Then the straps are adjusted and fastened, and I hear the sound of padlocks being closed. Obviously, the hood is locked on my head.

The addition of the hood collar and my metal collar puts pressure on my neck, but it remains bearable. I realize there is a relatively large opening at mouth level.

“This hood is designed to fit a gag, so the opening is big enough for you to breathe properly and be safe at night.”

He then takes my hands and slips them into mitts. The ones Franz had put on me, where the fist is forced into a tight closed position. I love this sensation, but I am a little apprehensive because I have a feeling it is hard to hold on to over the long term.

“Come on now, follow me.”

He pulls me by the chain and I follow, taking small steps, my feet hobbled by the short chain.

“You’re going to go to the upper cage you saw earlier, there’s a little stepladder in front, climb up.”

Seeing nothing, I let myself be guided and manage as best I can to climb into the cage.

“Sit down with your legs bent.”

I comply and hear Florian coming with a new chain, which he attaches to the one connecting my wrists and the one connecting my ankles. Once both padlocks are closed, I test my links. The chain is quite long, but not enough to allow me to stretch out my legs, forcing me into a huddled position. Given the size of the cage I do not know if I could have stretched out fully anyway.

“Lie on your side.”

I proceed and Sir Flo puts a blanket over me, probably the one that was in the cell, a rather rough military blanket.

“Good night slave, try not to wake me up, the master needs his rest.

The sounds are well diminished by the isolation hood, but I seem to perceive a whisper from Sir Flo in my ear. “I’m proud of you.”

Then I hear a door slam.

It is going to be a long night…

Click for next part

Click for previous part

Click to start at Part 1