By Takeo

Day 3 – Thursday June 13th – Training

I do not know how long I sleep until I wake up for the first time. Usually, I tend to sleep on my side, or even on my stomach. But here, the height of the cage under the bed is not high enough for me to turn around. Although I am not really tied up, the straitjacket prevents me from turning over. Without the straitjacket, I think it might have been possible.

Despite being tied up in a neoprene suit in a straitjacket, with my head in the big hood, a plug up my arse, all bathed in the smell of piss, I actually manage to sleep not too badly. Not continuously, of course, but I still manage to get some rest. It is mainly the swelling cock in my cage that wakes me up. My mind wanders and creates scenarios based on what happened during the day, which inevitably leads to painful erections.

When I wake up, I do my best to move my aching limbs, while avoiding waking Sir Flo and Franz, who are sleeping right above me. I can feel their breathing and movements in their sleep and there is no doubt about it, they are sleeping like bliss.

I have no idea what time it is, but I hear someone getting up. I seem to hear the padlock and cage door open, then someone pulls me out of the cage by my feet.

“Quiet boy, we do not want to wake Sir Flo.” I immediately recognize Franz’s deep, beautiful voice.

With strong, firm hands, Franz grabs me, lifts me to my feet and pushes me out of the room.

He removes my hood and my eyes struggle to adjust to the light. When I am able to see again, Franz is standing in front of me, wearing tight white boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Without further ado, he takes my head between his arms and kisses me tenderly. We are in the bathroom.

“Did you have a good night, boy?”

“Moderately, Alpha,” I confess. “My limbs are stiff after so much time in this straitjacket. And my ass is on fire.”

“That’s normal, boy, it’s your position.”

With that, he moves behind me and starts undoing the straightjacket’s fastenings.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the clock in the lobby. It reads 5:45. I realize how tired I am. The night was not only short, it was interspersed.

Franz starts to undo all the straps of the straitjacket and takes it off. I move my arms, numb from the night. The smell of dried piss wafts up my nostrils, the wetsuit being covered in it before the camisole was installed.

“You have 5 minutes to get ready. You can remove the plug if you like, but you do not have to. Your clothes are on the tub.” And he leaves the room, closing the door.

The plug bothers me after all this time inside me. And I have a rather urgent need to pee and shit, so I open the special zip on the suit, remove the plug and stand on the toilet.

Franz mentioned that I was free to keep or remove the plug. So I hesitate to put it back in, I am sure it would turn him on and I guess that is what I would be supposed to do if I were a good boy. However, my hole is sore, and I prefer to play the reasonable card. After all, I do not know what is in store for me next. So I clean the plug and put it on the edge of the sink.

I splash some water on my face to try and wake myself up, without making too much noise to avoid waking Sir Florian.

Then I look at the clothes that have been laid out for me. White Adidas sports shorts with the three black stripes running down the side, a t-shirt in technical fabric, also Adidas, with the same stripes. Underneath, white and black running shoes.

I am very excited about wearing this outfit. I take the clothes in my hands and notice a smell. I hold them up to my nose and, indeed, they smell of sweat. This adds to my excitement. Franz is too big for this to be his outfit, but the idea of wearing clothes another guy has already sweated in turns me on.

I have got to hurry. Franz has given me 5 minutes to get ready and I haven’t looked at the clock. I put my hands behind my back and grab the strap that opens the suit. I give it a little tug, but it doesn’t work. I own a few neoprene suits, and it is never really easy to get them off. The zipper is often badly positioned, and pulling on the strap is not enough to start the movement. I search for the zipper with my fingers to unblock it, but I cannot do it. I try in every direction, but it won’t budge. I turn around to look in the mirror to see what is blocking it, and it soon becomes very clear. The zipper cannot go down, it is locked at the top by a small padlock.

In my mind, I replay last night’s movie. I put the wetsuit on by myself, there was no padlock. Florian or Franz must have put it on without me noticing when they put on the muzzle or the straitjacket. But it does not matter, the result is there: I cannot remove this suit, which I have been in for almost 12 hours and which still smells of piss, without having access to the key.

I search the pile of clothes and the bathroom to see if Franz would have left it for me. But I cannot find anything.

Time passes and I sense that Franz is impatiently waiting for me on the other side of the door. I have no choice but to put on the shorts and t-shirt over the wetsuit, then slip on the sneakers. I am surprised there is no necklace; it seems to me it was one of the essential accessories.

But never mind, I have got to hurry. I emerge from the bathroom to find Franz in a sports outfit similar to mine, but black with white stripes. In his hand, he holds a large wooden paddle.

“You are having trouble keeping to the timetable this morning… Go and set up on the spanking bench, we will make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He points to the playroom.

I am not yet awake enough to try and figure out what is going on, but I head for the playroom, urged on by Franz. I climb onto the bondage bench and place my ankles and forearms in the places provided.

“You have taken too long to get ready, and you must be punished. But we are in a hurry and do not have time for ceremony. I am not tying you up, but I strongly recommend that you do not move. You have taken 10 minutes longer than I gave you. You’ll get 20 strokes.”

And the blows start. Franz does not go lightly, knowing that the neoprene suit and shorts protect my buttocks. The pain is intense from the very first blow. I like bondage because it forces me to submit to the treatment inflicted on me. But here, without being tied up, in addition to having to endure the blows I also have to force myself not to move. It is almost even more humiliating, as if I were voluntarily submitting to this treatment.

Franz is not here for laughs, and I can feel that he intends me to learn my lesson. The blows come without pause, quickly. I do not have time to count, but by the time it stops, my cheeks are burning and tears have risen to my eyes.

“Get up and follow me.”

I follow him into the vestibule while rubbing my still-warm buttocks.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, boy.”

“Yes, Alpha,” I say, lowering my eyes.

Franz looks very sexy in this sport outfit. I sense that it is not only for kink, but that if he has woken me up this early it is definitely for a sports session. He comes up behind me and slips a collar around my neck. It seemed to me that something was missing. The collar is not exactly supple, but it is not unpleasant. However, Franz adjusts it so that it is very tight, without of course cutting off either breathing or circulation, and locks it with a padlock… It feels heavier on one side, and I feel what could be two spikes digging into my skin.

Franz takes me by the arm and leads me into the kitchen, where breakfast awaits. We eat quickly while Franz explains to me what is to come.

He gives me a Garmin watch, which I put on my wrist. Again, we will not go straight to the gym, but do a bit of running first. We leave the apartment discreetly and head downstairs.

Franz explains that the collar I am wearing is a shock collar: it delivers electric shocks. I have heard of this kind of thing before, but I have always thought of it as something dangerous, even though I has always been attracted to it.

To test it out, Franz presses the little remote control he is holding in his hand and immediately I feel an intense electric shock at my neck that sticks me in place and wrings a little scream from me.

“That was power 4/10, boy. I think you have understood that you had better not try to get smart.”

We step out into the street. The neoprene suit is clearly visible under the sports outfit, although I do not consider it as so humiliating. The necklace, on the other hand, is more imposing. Fortunately, the street is practically empty at this hour.

We walk briskly along the street to the Tiergarten to warm up. At the entrance to the park, Franz takes us through a few mobility exercises.

“Ok, boy, training begins: a short 15 km jog in the Tiergarten to take advantage of the cool morning air.” Indeed, it is quite chilly in the early morning, but for me in my neoprene suit, the few hundred meters of rapid walking we did were enough to warm me up already.

In itself, a 15 km race does not really scare me. It is in the upper range of what I usually do, but it is totally doable. Unless Franz sets too high a pace, but from what I saw yesterday, we are pretty compatible from that point of view.

Franz approaches me and turns on my Garmin watch. I had completely forgotten I had it on my wrist.

“But there’s one more issue,” Franz tells me as my watch starts up. “Your collar is connected to the watch. Once your heart rate exceeds 160 bpm, you won’t be able to go any lower. In that case, you’ll get a discharge every 5 seconds until you’re back above 160bpm. Let’s go!”

And he starts running with a light step. It seemed a little too easy… I am afraid of what is going to happen. Normally, when I run, my average heart rate is under 160. But it is clear that during an intense period, on a climb or with an acceleration of the pace, I exceed this value. As I follow Franz, who sets the pace, I think about my strategy. The safest thing is not to exceed 160, so as not to set off the system.

We make good progress through the park and chat quite openly. I am starting to envy Franz, who is only in shorts and a t-shirt while I am starting to sweat in the wetsuit. The sensation is seriously starting to turn me on. We pass another jogger who turns around as we pass. Clearly, the shiny neoprene does not just pass for a thermal layer… I am afraid that as time goes on – it will take us over an hour to cover the 15 km – we will come across more people and they will start to wonder about my outfit.

The first 5 km were covered in 35 minutes, or 7 min/km. That is below my usual pace for a flat run. My heart rate is around 150 pbm, with a few spikes to 155. I have still got a bit of margin.

Franz takes the opportunity to explain to me what he likes in domination/submission games, how much he enjoys being submissive to one guy but also commanding and making another suffer. It all depends on the personality of the guys he meets. With me clearly, he wants not only to boss me around, but also to humiliate me and make me suffer. I find that exciting, but I am not sure it reassures me. I do not know him, and how do I know he will not go too far? I rely on the fact that Florian trusts him, and that I know he does not place his trust lightly.

My watch begins to vibrate, and a beep is heard from my collar. I look at the watch, which displays a large number: 160. I had not noticed that gradually, as we talked, Franz increased the pace, pushing the heart rate a little.

But the acceleration was not blatant, and soon the first strike catches me by the throat. I almost lose my balance, surprised by the attack. Then a second. I look at the watch, 155. And a third shock. It is not extreme, but it is still violent. I have no choice but to accelerate to get the heartbeat back above 160. A fourth time it hits me before I finally go over the limit. Franz has accelerated next to me and cannot help laughing.

“Come on, now it’s time to go, boy.”

We keep up a good pace to avoid dropping below 160bpm. I look at my watch, which reads 165bpm, 8km, 5:40min/km. That is more than my usual pace. So far so good, but I have got another 7 km to go, which could be tricky.

We start chatting again with Franz. Caught up in the conversation, the pace drops and the penalty is immediate, another discharge.

“Only 5km to go, boy.”

I am completely soaked inside my neoprene wetsuit. I am extremely hot. Franz sees this and hands me the hose from his camelback, allowing me to hydrate. I love seeing how well prepared Franz is in everything he does. I drink as best I can while continuing to run, it being understood that stopping to do so is unthinkable.

“Extra difficulty from now on, boy. Every time you get a discharge, I will increase the intensity and the next one will be stronger. We were at 4/10, now is 5. If I were you, I would avoid reaching level 10, you might end up lying on the floor…”

I hesitate between fear and excitement. In any case, Franz’s sadistic side is no longer in doubt.

I keep up the pace, but with a slight descent, my heart rate drops.

Schlack! There is definitely a difference with the previous level! I pick up the pace again to make sure I do not fall back below the limit. But the path is still descending, and I am soon treated to another, even stronger shock. My body tenses and I nearly stumble.

I see Franz beside me, a smile on his lips. He is obviously enjoying the situation! Especially as 10 m ahead of us are two guys also jogging. I meet their stunned eyes, probably as much from the outfit as from the spasm they have witnessed.

I am sweating profusely because of the pace imposed by Franz’s ploy and the suit. I look at the watch; 2km to go. I can see the end of the tunnel. I am at level 7, but the last stroke was powerful, so I absolutely must avoid testing the next level… With only 2 km left, I allow myself to increase the pace a little more. I can see that Franz is starting to sweat too, despite the fact that, unlike me, he is wearing only shorts and a T-shirt. The scent of neoprene and the smell Franz is beginning to give off are starting to turn me on. I have become so accustomed to the chastity cage that I have forgotten its presence. But I am reminded of it every time I get excited.

My watch rings and I tense up, anticipating the next jolt. But nothing comes.

“It’s over, boy.” And Franz stops running. I am not sure I want to stop either, for fear of a shock.

“Come to me quickly, so I can stop the watch before the next shock.”

Franz grabs my wrist and turns off my Garmin. At the last moment. The display shows 161.

It has been a long time since I have run so fast over such a distance. I am totally wet. So is Franz. And that makes him even sexier. His T-shirt sticks to his chest, revealing his well-defined abs. His muscular buttocks are molded into his shorts.

Franz takes the back of my neck in his powerful hand and pulls me to him and kisses me. I am so surprised that this is happening in the middle of the street that I find myself petrified on the spot.

“Relax boy, there’s nothing wrong with it,” he tells me while putting a hand on my butt.

I quickly look around and we are alone. I was so focused on the necklace at the end of the race that I did not pay much attention to the people we passed. But there are not many people in the park this early in the morning.

“Franz approaches me and puts his muscular arms around me. I hear the jangle of keys and the collar is removed.

“It’s a bit visible for where we’re going.”

I have no idea where we are. We have followed several different paths and trails through the Tiergarten, but I haven’t managed to keep track and know which side of the park we are on. But in any case, I am relieved that Franz is taking off the collar.

I walk alongside Franz, who is making good progress. It is a good thing too, because this race is a welcome way to unwind. I am still sweating in my wetsuit. I love the feeling of having this second skin on me. And all in all, with the shorts and t-shirt on top, it is not too noticeable.

We reach a street at the edge of the park. I recognize the front of the fitness center we visited yesterday morning.

“Second part of the morning workout, boy.”

I confess I was not thinking of having a second workout after such a run. But at least I do not have the collar anymore.

However, I start to worry when I realize that at this hour there are already people in the gym, and I am still in my neoprene suit. Running into people in the park is not the same as being up close and personal with guys who have plenty of time to watch me.

We enter the fitness center. Franz holds the door for two guys who enter behind us. I try to hide behind Franz so as to let them through without them seeing me, but I cannot. Franz sticks to the wall so as to expose me.

I recognize the two guys we met in the park. Seeing me, they cannot muster a smile. At least they do not look shocked. Something tells me they must be gay. Probably a couple, in fact.

Franz pushes me along and we enter the changing room. He puts his bag on a bench, opens it and takes out a white t-shirt and puts it on the bench. He looks for something in his pocket, which he places on the T-shirt. A small key.

“Take off your suit and put on this t-shirt,” he says to me.

The two guys have installed opposite us and are watching the scene with interest. They too are sweating after their warm-up in the park. I take the T-shirt and the key and pretend to head for a booth. Franz grabs me by the arm.

“No no, boy, here.”

I petrify on the spot. I am supposed to take off the shorts and t-shirt I am wearing, expose my wetsuit, take it off and therefore get naked with my chastity cage in front of these two guys who do not seem to have any intention of getting up, but rather of staring?

At my hesitation, Franz pulls the necklace out of the bag, “either you do it, or I will give those guy a demonstration of what this thing does on you, that’s clear boy?”

“Yes, Alpha,” I murmur. I do not have much choice, I am doomed to do it before two runners.

“I beg your pardon? I didn’t hear anything.” Franz seems determined to take the humiliation a step further.

“Yes, Alpha,” I say, louder.

So I turn to face the bench and take off my shorts and T-shirt, revealing the black neoprene wetsuit striped in red. Fortunately, it does not seem to smell much like piss any more. At least, I cannot perceive the smell, covered by that of sweat.

I take the key and unlock the padlock on my suit as best I can. I can see the astonishment and interest of the two guys sitting opposite me. They have stopped chatting, and even though I cannot see them, I can feel their eyes on me.

I grab the strap and unzip it behind my back. I scramble to remove the upper part of the suit. The cool air on my sweat-soaked body feels so good. I extract myself from the bottom of the suit, still facing the bench. I figure if I stay in this position, the two guys behind me will not see the chastity cage. As soon as my wetsuit is off, I hastily put my shorts back on, and put on the t-shirt Franz had left on the bench.

Franz is also changing his shirt.

Once ready, I turn around and sit down on the white to fold the suit. The two guys are also sitting opposite us, on the opposite bench. They are smiling, amused but also probably excited by the situation.

“I understand better now,” one of them says to me.

I am not sure I understand. Then he laughs before getting up and heading out of the room with his buddy, not without passing me and padding my head.

When they are out the door, I look over at Franz, standing in front of me. He is wearing a T-shirt with “MASTER, Berlin” written in white. I look down at my shirt and see a similar “SLAVE, Berlin” in black. I get a better idea of what the two guys were laughing about.

Franz takes advantage of being in front of me to put a chain around my neck, which he locks with a padlock.

“That’s better, boy. Now follow me.”

And he leaves the locker room, heading for the gym. I follow.

Past the shame of taking off the neoprene suit in front of these two guys – at the beach I would have had no problem, but in the center of Berlin it is something else – my body being a little fresher again, I am starting to feel better.

We enter the gym and there are already several guys working out. Maybe 8 or 10 in all.

We pass some of them, who greet us politely. Others do not take any notice of us or are too caught up in their exercises.

Franz clearly puts himself in the coach’s position and starts by having me warm up my upper body, arms, shoulders and trunk. The lower body is already quite warm after our run in the park.

As soon as I am warmed up, he puts me through what seems to be a carefully prepared workout. Although the run was enough for a good cardio workout, I go first to the rowing machine. For this exercise, as for all the others that follow, Franz sets me a target in terms of repetitions and time.

I like these kinds of challenges, a bit like surpassing myself. I imagine myself as an army recruit, under the command of a demanding officer. In reality, it is not far from that, except that neither Franz nor I are in uniform.

My muscles, unaccustomed to such exercises, are still sore from the previous day’s training. But Franz does not push too hard, and I manage to complete all the exercises he gives me without too much difficulty. And the atmosphere is good, Franz really behaves like a coach, and not the alpha he can be in the playroom.

I try to do the exercises as well as I can, so that I can take the opportunity to train and move around, since I have a feeling that I am not going to be very free in my movements for the rest of the day…

I almost forget my cage and the chain around my neck, and the inscription on my T-shirt. Without realizing it, we got closer to the two guys who were in the locker room when we arrived.

The taller of the two approaches Franz and starts chatting with him. I am back on the rowing machine and cannot make out the conversation.

“Ok, boy, finished with this exercise.” I get off the rower and the two guys are standing next to Franz.

“This is Florian and Tom.” We shake hands. I try to stand so that the cage is not too visible, but my shorts are quite tight and I am embarrassed to be facing them like this.

“Tom will practice with you.” With that, Florian heads to the part of the room where the weight machines are, and Tom stays towards us. Florian lays out the rings, taking us through a series of jumps on one foot. Then on the other. The workout goes on like that, with explosiveness, balance and speed exercises. Not exactly what most guys do in a gym, but a very good complement to this morning’s jogging and weight training.

Once again, I forget the gear I am wearing. Yet my necklace is clearly visible and I see Tom glance at me several times.

“Okay, guys, well done. We’re done for today.”

I am totally sweaty again. So is Tom. Happy with our performance, we make a check and give each other a pat on the shoulder, like two teammates would do. Franz walks away, probably to tell Florian that we are done.

Tom and I sit on the nearby bench and take out our water bottles.

“Nice workout, thanks,” he tells me, obviously a little embarrassed.

“Thanks to you,” I reply, even more embarrassed.

“Is your t-shirt and chain just for style or do you have a bit of a special relationship with your boyfriend?” I am surprised by the question. First of all, he is not my boyfriend. And this is the first time anyone has considered me gay so directly.

“Hem…” I am caught off guard and do not know what to say.

“He is my boy,” Franz calls out as he and Florian return.

I immediately turn red and curl into myself. We have no idea who these guys are.

Tom, still sitting next to me, moves closer and throws his arm over my shoulder.

“Don’t worry man, we don’t care, everyone is free to live his life as he wants.”

I am hardly reassured, because it shows that they have understood exactly what is going on between us. Clearly they have seen my t-shirt from the start, and I am ultimately not surprised that they have struck up a conversation if they have been intrigued.

“And what’s that bulge under your shorts?” asks Tom with a puzzled look.

“Show ’em, boy,” replies Franz in quick succession.

“But…” he does not let me finish my sentence.

“Come on, no discussion!”

Still sitting on the bench next to Tom, I resign myself. A few days ago, it would have been absolutely out of the question to show my caged cock to strangers and I would have run out of this trap. But I have already pushed so many limits that it does not seem so unacceptable anymore. Especially as something tells me these two are no angels…

I decide to pull on my shorts and take out my cage. I remain seated on the bench, preventing anyone else in the gym from seeing us.

“Wow, cool!” exclaims Tom.

“I am sure you’d love it if I made you wear one,” Florian chides him.

“Ha ha ha forget it, man.”

With a satisfied look, Franz gestures for me to put my short back correctly.

We get up and I follow Franz towards the changing rooms. After the race and the intense training, a good shower will not do any harm, and I am looking forward to it. Tom and Florian both follow us.

In the changing room, I head for the sink and quench my thirst. My mouth was totally parched. We undress while chatting. Franz hands me a towel and points to a closed shower cubicle. I am relieved; I was fearing he was going to seize the opportunity to make me shower by exposing my cage to the two guys, at the risk of someone else entering the changing room. After taking off my shoes, socks and T-shirt, I head for the shower cubicle.

Franz calls me to order by rolling up his towel and slamming it down on my left buttock like a whip, high-schooler style.

“Where are you going boy, leave your shorts here.” I knew it was not going to work, but at least I tried… I take off my shorts and cross the changing room under the watchful eyes of Tom and Florian, who cannot help but take a good look at my cage.

I enter the cabin and close the curtain behind me. I am not unhappy to have some privacy. I realize that this is something I have not had the right to since I arrived in Berlin. I hang my towel on the hook, turn on the shower and throw myself under it. It does me a world of good and my aching muscles begin to relax. I realize that Franz has not given me any soap. I turn off the shower and head out to get some when Tom bursts into the cabin, totally naked.

His physique is very similar to Franz’s, lean but muscular. Exactly as I like.

I freeze in place, not knowing what to do.

“You obey him as if he were me,” Franz slips softly from the adjacent booth.

Tom cannot hide a big smile of satisfaction. A smirk.

He approaches me and joins me in the shower.

“No noise, boy, we are not alone in the changing room,” whispers Tom in my ear.

I was relaxed about not having to shower with my cage in front of strangers, but the tables have turned. Now I am tense. On the one hand, I am excited by the sight of Tom’s muscular body. And reassured to know that Franz is in the adjacent stall.

Tom raises his right arm and places his hand behind his head, revealing his slightly hairy armpit.

“Lick, I’ve sweated well, we need to clean this up!” he whispers.

I was not at all expecting that. I always thought that to be submissive to a guy, I needed to be tied up. That way he can use me as he sees fit without me being a substitute. But I am discovering the natural authority of certain guys who make me do humiliating and degrading things by myself, without any physical constraint. Just by the intonation of the guy’s voice.

I cannot say that seeing Tom get into the shower made me want to lick his armpits. And yet, when, from the height of his physical and psychological stature, he commands me to do so, it excites me and I want to do it. Not for the physical sensation, but simply because he asked me to. And that is the way it is. You ask, I do. And also because it will please him if I do it, whether in terms of the sensations or simply because I have obeyed him.

I lower my head and start licking his armpit. The salty taste of sweat immediately hits my mouth. Not that it is unpleasant, but it is something new to me. I find myself thinking about my situation. Two hours ago, I did not know him. One hour ago, we were doing sports exercises together, coming out of drill under Franz’s coaching. And now here we are, both naked in the shower, me licking his armpits.

Not knowing what to do with my hands, I cross them behind my back. A boy’s conditioning that is developing?

“I like human contact, take me by the waist,” Tom suggests. He is less direct than Franz, but he’s obviously intent on making the best of this situation.

I place both hands around his muscular waist. He has got the firm, showery skin of a sportsman who has been maintaining himself.

After a few minutes, he brings his arm down and swaps with the other. I do not need him to open his mouth to understand what he wants from me, and I plunge my head and tongue straight into his armpit.

Listening to his moans, he seems to like it. Which motivates me even more to make my best.

He pushes my head onto his muscular chest, which I continue to lick. The taste of perspiration continues to invade me. Franz didn’t go light with his exercises.

My tongue travels all over his torso, lingering on each of his nipples, which I nibble gently.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel his erection. He seems to be getting off on it. My imprisoned cock is swollen too, to the point of pain.

I continue to lick him, and gently he presses down on my head, forcing me down his belly. It is nice to lick his muscular body, still sweating.

He presses down again, forcing me to my knees. I can see he is not going to be satisfied with just having his nipples licked… I have no doubt Franz has discussed limits with those guys, and I am starting to feel less panicky about being at the disposal of a guy I have never seen and will probably never see again.

I kneel down and face his big erect cock. But surprisingly, he continues to press down on my head until I am on the ground.

“Come on, lick it.” My head is against his feet and I think the expectations are clear. I lick his feet as best I can in this position. He plays with me, and forces his toes into my mouth. The smell and the situation are extremely exciting.

I do my best to give him pleasure. Licking a guy’s feet like this is extremely humiliating. I am literally at his feet.

After a few minutes, he beckons me to get up. I would not be very honest if I said I was relieved I did not have to suck him off. A few days ago this was something I absolutely would not have wanted to do, but now I accept it is my role and duty, and I would certainly have enjoyed giving this guy pleasure, knowing that is what Franz and Florian would have wanted. It seems like my training as a boy seems to be working.

But standing again in front of Tom, he hands me a bottle of shower product.

“You might as well be useful, wash me.” And he steps around me to take my place under the shower and turns on the water.

I am surprised, but why not, if that is what pleases him, no problem for me.

I take a little bit of soap in my hand and start washing him, first his upper body, arms, torso and back. Then I get down on my knees and wash his legs and feet, while he washes his hair and face on his own. He seems to be enjoying it, still hard as ever. I work at the top of his thighs and hesitate, not knowing what to do with his privates. Without talking, he takes my hand and places on his sex. The message is clear…

I carefully clean his hard cock and his balls. From the sounds of moaning, he seems to be enjoying it… I am not sure if I am supposed to jerk him off, or if my task is just to wash him.

Tom quickly removes the doubt by whispering in my ear: “I think you have forgotten the ass.” Indeed, like sex, I have deliberately avoided it. I take a little soap and, while still standing facing him, run my hands over each of his buttocks. I hesitate to go any further, but he leaves me no choice: “Come on man, don’t be shy, clean it up.” The message is clear, and I spread his muscular buttocks to clean his crack. My fingers rub his hairless hole, and I feel him tense up with pleasure.

Once finished, I turn on the shower and rinse him thoroughly. I close the drain and turn to grab his cloth, which I hand to him.

“Hep hep, on your knees, boy,” he says, pressing hard on my shoulder. I have no choice but to comply and find myself facing his still erect cock.

And there it is, I have thought I could get away with it – even though deep down I think I wanted to – but the moment has arrived.

I do not move, I am on my knees, looking up at Tom. Nothing happens, he seems to be enjoying what he sees and enjoying the moment.

Then he turns around, places his hands against the shower wall and spreads his legs.

“Get to work, boy,” he whispers.

No need to explain. I take his muscular buttocks in my hands and spread them, then bring my tongue close to his hole. No doubt he is clean, I made sure of that… I take care of licking him as best I can, eliciting muffled moans from Tom. Indeed, I hear noise and voices in the dressing room, there is no doubt we are not alone. And there is no doubt that if we had not been in public, Tom’s moans would have been much more intense, as he seems to love what I am doing to him, causing me to become even more aroused.

After several minutes, Tom turns around and we look into each other’s eyes, me still on my knees in front of him. Without missing a beat, he thrusts his cock into my mouth. After the initial surprise, I concentrate on sucking as best I can. He takes my chin in his hand and signals me to keep my gaze on him. I continue to suck him while looking into his eyes. His gaze cannot hide his satisfaction of using a guy.

He takes my head between his two hands and starts a non-stopping movement. From now on, he sets the pace. He never takes his eyes off me. The movements are sometimes fast, sometimes slow. And from time to time he enters deep into my throat, provoking a gagging, nearly vomiting reflex. But he never pulls his cock out of my mouth or takes his eyes off me. Just with his sight, he make me understand I shall continue looking him in the eyes.

The movement accelerates, and at the last moment, in a rattle probably audible from the locker room, he withdraws from my mouth and sends several spurts of cum over my face. I have rarely seen a guy cum so hard. I can feel the cum dripping down my face. When I open my eyes again, Tom still has my head in his hands, his gaze directed at me. A big smile of satisfaction spreads across my face.

He lifts me up and, without saying a word, we change places and he pushes me into the shower. He turns on the water and starts washing me. I let him, and with his gentle but firm hands, he washes my whole body. He runs his hand over my cage, eyeing it intriguedly.

“That looks pretty nice stuff,” he whispers in my ear. He also washes my bottom and passes his hand between my cheeks. He takes the opportunity to linger a long time over my hole. I sense that it is not just a question of washing it, but that Tom still wants to play with me a little. Without warning, he puts a finger in my ass. I am surprised, but the sensation is quite pleasant. As he caresses me, Tom plays with his finger. It does not take long for him to find my prostate and it only takes a few seconds for my arousal to reach an extreme level.

Without stopping, he plays with his finger and starts kissing me. My brain is boiling. I cannot do anything against it and I am sure I am going to cum. I terribly want to, but I do not think I am allowed to. Or rather, I am certain I am not. I whisper to him to stop but he continues. And my excitement continues to grow.

I cannot hold on any longer, I am going to explode. But I do not want to disappoint Florian and Franz, and I certainly do not want to be punished, now that I know that Sir Flo is absolutely not joking about this. Just as I am about to come, Tom pulls his finger out of my hole and walks away.

My brain is mush and goes off in all directions. Tom hands me my towel and starts to dry off. I stand there for a moment.

“Well then, we are not going to take roots here.”

I try to come back to reality and quickly towel myself off. Tom pokes his head through the cabin curtain. “It’s okay, we’re on our own, come on.” We quickly get out of the shower cubicle to avoid anyone seeing that there were two of us in there.

Florian and Franz are gone.

The changing room is empty, and even our stuff is gone.

I am not that surprised; I am getting used to losing control of events. Tom, on the other hand, does not seem the least bit amused.

“What the fuck?” he says as he wanders around the locker room, still naked, trying to get his hands on his stuff.

I approach the bench where we sat this morning and discover a sheet of paper with handwriting on it.

Hope you had fun in the shower, boys.

Yes, there is no doubt about it…

Tom, you told me you were interested in this type of game, and I have been talking to Florian, so this is a good opportunity to try it out. From now on, you have the choice of following the instructions or leaving. But if you decide to leave, we will never see each other again.

“Leave now? But I am naked, how does he want me to leave?” snaps Tom irritably.

Your belongings are in locker No. 16. White for Takeo, black for Tom. You quickly put them on and walk back to the apartment. The door will be open, so you climb up and enter the apartment. Further instructions will await you in the cell.

“A cell? What is he talking about?” grumbles Tom again. I shrug, pretending not to understand, even though I can see where he is going with this.

I look around for the lockers, but do not see any. I remember that I have seen some of them is the corridor outside the changing rooms.

“The lockers are outside, can you get the stuff?” Seeing me embarrassed because of the cage, Tom goes outside, his towel around the waist.

He returns a few minutes later with a small white backpack, and a black one.

“Hurry up, there are some guys heading for the locker room,” Tom tells me. Fearing I might be seen with the cage, I hurry to get out the contents of the white backpack. In it I find a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of sports socks and sneakers, and a jockstrap. I quickly put on the jockstrap – I love wearing this kind of underwear, but in the rush I do not have time to enjoy it. I put on the shorts just as some guys enter the changing room. That was a close one,” I say inwardly.

“Look at that fag’s cheeks, dude,” says one of the guys, looking in our direction. Tom, who is not wearing a cage, has not rushed to get dressed like me. He’s in a jockstrap in the middle of the changing rooms. It is rather unusual to wear this kind of underwear in Europe, in fact, it is clearly associated with the gay community.

In a hurry, we finish dressing, put our towels in the backpacks and leave the place. Once on the street, we come to our senses. The clock in the church next door strikes 10. The training session was long…

“Mamma mia, that was hot. Do you trust your Franz? Do you think I should come with you?”

I suggest we take a walk together and he can decide later. We are both dressed in sportswear, he in black with white stripes and patterns, I the opposite. There is nothing special about these outfits, we probably just look like two guys on our way home from sport, nothing more. Only my collar sticks out of my T-shirt, but I am getting used to it and had almost forgotten about it.

We walk side by side, heading towards the apartment. Without really caring if passers-by can hear our conversation, I quickly tell him how I got here and what happened to me during my first days in Berlin.

Tom seems to be very curious and intrigued by all this. He is also interested in bondage and S&M, but he has never really tried it. At most, he has had a few authoritative relationships with guys, but more in a sexual context, much like what happened in the shower. He explains that he can be both dominant and submissive, but that when it comes to a bondage / S&M session, he sees himself more in the submissive position.

After a long chat, we arrive in front of the building

“So, are you coming up or not?” I say.

He seems to hesitate. I can see he is interested, but I am not sure he will take the plunge.

“I am not sure. I am tempted, but I am not sure if what you’re doing is not a bit too extreme for me.”

I explain to him that I cannot guarantee anything and that I do not know him, but that I have total confidence in Florian and Franz, who are balanced and intelligent people and it seems to me that they know very well how to grasp the limits and make sure to play with what the sub likes.

“Well okay. I’m quite scared, but let’s get on with it. You’re sexy and I wouldn’t mind being tied up with you,” he replies, slapping my bottom.

He follows me into the building. We climb the staircase in silence and enter the apartment. No one in sight. We drop our bags and make our way to the adjacent cell, where a sheet of paper is waiting for us on the leather bench. On either side of the sheet is some equipment.

On top of the sheet is a plastic chastity cage identical to the one I am wearing. In handwriting, it reads:

Start by locking the cell door. Throw the key out of the cell, as far away as possible. The cage is for Tom. Install it and throw the key out of the cell. Then turn the paper sheet over.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said I wanted to try this…” Tom says to me, laughing. Inwardly, I tell myself that if he is laughing, he does not yet know what he will have to deal with… Tom has never worn a cage. After locking the cell, and thus throwing the dice of our common destiny for the next few hours, I explain to him how to install the cage. He manages it without too much difficulty. The fact that he emptied himself on my face in the shower not long before probably helped prevent another too-rapid erection.

After taking the cage in his hand and looking at the object – and his enclosed tool – from every angle, he takes courage and throws the key outside the cell.

“Looks to me like we’re in trouble,” he says, looking at me, sounding much less sure of himself than when we were in the shower.

“Maybe, but from the looks of it you seem to like it…” Indeed, I can clearly see that his cock is swelling in his cage.

We turn the sheet over. After reading it, Tom says to me:

“Wow, what the hell?”

“As far as I am concerned, it’s a no-brainer…”

“But do you think he’s serious?”

“You’re free to take the risk…” I reply.

“Fuck…” is his only reply.

We reread the instructions on the sheet and go through them together as we go along.

Take off your clothes, socks and shoes and fold them neatly at the foot of the left wall.

We find ourselves both naked, in a locked cell.

“I have to admit, the cage looks good on you,” I say to Tom, looking at him.

“So does it on you,” he says as he approaches me. He grabs me by the waist and moves closer to me as if he wants to kiss me.

I gently push him away.

“I don’t think that’s something our current status allows us to do.”

Disappointed, Tom steps aside. “You’re probably right.”

We turn our attention back to the sheet.

Insert the plugs into each other’s ass and start them up.

On the pile of material are two plugs and some gel. Quite large without being huge. We take them in our hands. They are quite heavy and indeed have a small button on the base, with the bluetooth logo. They are probably vibrating plugs.

“Well then, lean forward,” he tells me.

The way it is written is clear: there is no question of putting in your own plug. Even if Florian and Franz are not here, we do not know, maybe they are observing us. I comply, leaning down on the bench and spreading my legs. Unceremoniously, Tom takes some gel and inserts the plug in one go. It hurts, but my hole has been well worked over the last few days and the pain is bearable. I do the same with Tom, who takes the plug easily. He is probably kind of a hot pig hole, I say to myself.

We switch them on, and immediately feel vibrations. Quite discreet, but irregular. Probably a program is running.

Put on the outfits and boots.

We unfold the two orange outfits lying on the bench. They are prison jumpsuits. We put them on quickly. They fit like a glove, and the sight of Tom’s ass molded into the suit turns me on.

Under the bench, we find two pairs of black military-style rangers. We slip them on and lace them up. I love this look, both in orange and rangers.

Put on the muzzles. Fasten them with the padlocks.

These are two leather muzzles with a rather large built-in gag. I see Tom’s look a little confused and intimidated.

“You’ll be alright. Once you get the gag in your mouth, you let me know if anything’s wrong by moving your head.”

I start putting on his muzzle. I carefully adjust all the straps to make sure he is as comfortable as possible. I do not tighten it too much. I lock the multiple padlocks. I am not sure whether Tom noticed, but the padlocks were open, and I do not see a key anywhere. I would rather not tell him, not to freak him out. He is locked in his muzzle and, although I am still free myself, there is no way I can take it off.

Then I put on my muzzle, with Tom’s help, and lock it. I love this feeling, my cock already well swollen in my cage. I run my hand over Tom’s and notice that he seems also to appreciate the situation.

Put on the ankle cuffs.

These are classic cuffs, with a fairly short chain. But it is when I try to take them apart that I realize that they have something special. They are all connected. Our feet are stuck together.

Put the handcuffs on the wrists, but only on the left wrist.

These are classic police-style metal handcuffs. The chain is no more than a few centimeters long.

Now read on and remember.

Tom, back on the bars of the cell. Takeo, attach the collar to the bar with the carabiner.

Takeo, stand in front of Tom, connect the collars of your muzzles with the double carabiner. Put your arms around Tom, through the bars of the cell, and close the handcuffs on Tom’s back. Once this is done, Tom put your arms around Takeo and lock the handcuffs behind his back.

You will be tied to each other for the next 4 hours. If by the time I arrive you are not in position, you will each receive 50 strokes with the leather paddle on the ass.

Certainly not a situation to wish for…

With the chains at the ankles, it is not easy to move, but we manage to reach the bars and I place Tom with his back on them. And then I understand what I have to do. I connect the eyelet on the back of his muzzle collar to a vertical bar on the cell gate, so that he cannot move his head away from it. I do this just above one of the four horizontal bars, thus preventing the snap hook from dropping down. Tom is kept upright, so he cannot bend down.

I nod and ask him if he is all right, and he nods back.

I grab Tom and connect our collars with the carabiners. This keeps our heads in close proximity, just a few centimeters apart. Very frustrating, given that we cannot talk or kiss.

One after the other, we put our hands behind each other’s backs and lock the handcuffs. Having to pass my arms between the bars, and the handcuff chain being very short, I find myself pressed up against Tom, which is not entirely to my displeasure.

We stay that way, staring into each other’s eyes. We did not know each other 3 hours ago and now we find ourselves stuck together for the next 4 hours.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the alarm clock sitting on the shelf. It reads 11 o’clock.

I feel me cock training in its cage, and I can feel that Tom is in the same situation. The only noises in the apartement are the clicking of our chains and the vibrations of our plugs. I already want to come badly. At this moment, I am cursing Tom inwardly for his prostate massage in the shower…

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