By Pup Aros
*buzz buzz. buzz buzz.*
BZZT. BZZT.
I am literally shocked awake. Groggy for a moment, but not long, I wince from the morning routine shock to my neck that wakes me daily. I never get used to that feeling, like someone’s attached thousands of threads to each muscle fiber in my face and yanked them all down towards my neck. Sir has allotted me 5 minutes to gather myself and prepare myself before my cage door opens, and I’m grateful for it. Every night, He shuts the door to my cage. Depending on how well I’ve served Him, I may have a blanket and mattress and pillow. Yesterday, I’d made several mistakes with my protocol, and so for five minutes, I sit on the steel bars of the floor responsible for my fitful rest.
The lock on the cage buzzes, clicks, and the door swings open. My room in Sir’s house is a modest concrete cell. The cage is in one corner across the room from the door. On the wall to the right of the door, there’s a wall-hung cot heavy with straps and the black mass of my sleepsack, which is my alternate sleeping arrangement.
Above the cot is a simple wall mounted shelf that holds a handful of books and journals – my daily meditative writings on my submission to Sir, my protocol manual, several books on better service and submission that Sir adds to occasionally, and a practical manual on bootblacking and rubber and leather care. Attachment hooks are embedded in the walls and ceiling, although currently no chains hang from them. In the corner across to my cage is my punishment box: a steel contraption that forces me into a tight kneeling position and leaves only my head exposed. There is a single high casement window with thick metal bars in the cell on the same wall as my cage and box. The only other source of light is a harsh, industrial fluorescent fixture hanging from the ceiling. I look up to see the red lights blinking on the cameras in each corner of the room. No blind spots. Always watched and recorded. Above the heavy metal cell-door with its small, one-way window, is a basic analog clock. 5:45 AM. Sir can always watch me, whether over cameras, or through the cell door. I never know when He is watching. It feels like He is always watching, and I love this. It feels right, although I’m sure many people would despise this. But I’m not many people, I’m Sir’s owned boy, and His surveillance and control calm and comfort me.
I step over to the steel sink and toilet with the mirror and start my morning routine. First, a standard clean out. Sir has me clean out daily, so His hole, His property is always ready for use. It’s a quick job, just maintenance. I replace the plug and move on. The mirror reflects back a muscular slave built in Sir’s vision for His property. For years, He’s had me on a strict workout regimen that’s moulded me into something strong and resilient, capable of service and able to suffer. From head to toe, my body’s a testament to His ownership. My hair is neatly cropped into a tight buzzhawk. My face is clean shaven. A thick, heavy gauge nose ring hangs from my septum. Sir loves using this to lead me around with a leash, or clip me to a mounted ring on the wall. Sometimes He slips a padlock through my nose to lock a rubber or leather hood on my head.
Around my neck is a thick steel collar, molded to my anatomy. This collar remains in place essentially permanently, and contains a tracking device, a small speaker, a buzzer, and two shock nodes that Sir uses for control and punishment. My actions throughout the day are guided by Sir through this collar. The current project W/we’re working on is shifting from vocal command orders to a language of buzzes through my collar. I failed three times yesterday to recognize and respond to the correct order, hence my rough night in the cage.
Moving my eyes down at the slave in the mirror, I flex my mountainous pecs. My nipples are marked by two half-spheres of steel. I’m lucky enough to be able to provoke an orgasm purely by my nipples, and one of the first orders of business with Sir was to bring that under control. So, several years ago, He had me get nipple piercings. The half sphere covers the entirety of the erogenous zone of the nipple, and is held in place by a steel bar piercing. The bar itself locks with a tiny hex key that Sir keeps. What makes this even more tortuous is that these piercings made my nipples even more sensitive. Seeing this nipple chastity never fails to make me strain, though. I was so excited to receive these, and they’re another daily reminder of Sir’s absolute control.
Another reminder of Sir’s total control is the form-fitting steel belt around my waist. “Property of Sir” is etched on the back of the belt. It’s effectually permanent. Sir only removes it when I’m blindfolded and in bondage. I haven’t seen my cock, well, really Sir’s owned cock, in years at this point. It’s a beautiful belt, and I remember the years of saving I did to get it, knowing that it would only increase my level of chastity beyond the simple cage I’d worn for years. It was, and continues to be, worth it.
The last daily reminder of Sir’s control are my permanent cuffs. They’re thin, wide metal cuffs at my wrist and ankles. They lock with a long hex key, and aren’t welded purely for practical reasons, but for all intents and purposes they never come off.
The entirety of my muscular body is kept shaved. It’s another layer of control and makes putting rubber on extremely easy. Thankfully I don’t need to do a touch up shave today, so I brush my teeth, wash my face, and move over to the cot on the wall with today’s uniform layed out over top of my sleepsack.
Sir’s chosen a leather slave outfit for me today. It’s one of my favorite ensembles. I put on the custom leather chastity shorts first. At this point, they’re a redundancy over my belt. There’s no real chastity element to these except for the thick leather shield that rests over my belt chamber, and the locking thigh and waist belts. Sir has left three unlocked padlocks next to the shorts. I slide them through the pegs and click them shut, straining in my belt as I do so. Then, I don my leather slave vest. It zips up from the waist to the leather collar at the neck that comes just under my permanent metal collar. Then, I tighten the 5 horizontal straps and lock them, and then buckle the two vertical crotch straps and tighten those. I know that if I fail to adequately tighten my slave outfit, the punishment is severe. The vest has rigid metal stays running up and down the back that keep my posture sharp and clean. At the back of my slave vest is a locking leather cuff that fits my forearms perfectly. I can’t really use that until Sir applies it, so it stays unused for the moment. Finally, I don leather gloves. These have a thin leather strap with a locking peg. They control my hands and will remind me constantly throughout the day that no part of me is ever mine to use without Sir’s approval and control. Finally, I don my kneepads and boots. I curse myself a bit for leaving these for last because bending over is difficult with the tight, thick, rigid slave vest. Yet I manage. My kneepads give me some clue as to what Sir will want out of me at least this morning. They’re soft leather in the front and a breathable Lycra in the back. They slide on easily. Socks. Then boots. I slip my feet into the soft leather of my well-worn yet well-kept Corcorans. After lacing, I fasten the intrinsic leather cuff at the top of the boot and, using the last two cuffs Sir had for me, lock them on.
My collar buzzes twice, two times. A warning signal of an impending shock if I don’t hurry. I’ve delayed myself by leaving the boots till last. I glance nervously at the clock on the bare wall. 6:29. I hurry over to the center of my cell and kneel facing away from my cell door. My eyes lock on to the base of the wall across from me. I force myself into a state of calm, relaxing my body back onto my feet.
The door buzzes and clicks open. Sir enters. My every muscle tenses, holding my posture as tightly as my gear. No movement is acceptable in this position. I feel my heart beat, thud, thud, thud, as Sir squats behind me and pinions my forearms in the wide leather cuff on my back, straps it shut, and locks it. His touch is like being struck by lightning, still, especially after a hard night in the cage. He steps in front of me. “I’m glad to see you made it on time this morning, boy. I’m very pleased.”
My collar buzzes once.
I want so badly to smile at His praise, but Sir has not allowed me to break from my position, so I do not. I stare at the wall through Sir’s legs as he stands in front of me.
“Thank You, Sir!”
Buzz.
His hand runs over my close-cropped hair, and He drops the athletic shorts he wears to bed, exposing His straining Cock. What a perfect Cock.
Two long buzzes. My mouth drops open automatically. I salivate.
“Suck, boy.”
I finally allow my body to move as I hilt Sir’s Cock into my throat. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all night. He groans with pleasure and it sends a thrill down my spine. To affect Sir physically with pleasure, to hear Him lose Himself in the fruits of my submission, is my reward and release this morning, especially after yesterday’s mistakes. It feels like I could explode with happiness.
As Sir comes to completion in my throat, my collar buzzes once. Good boy. He gingerly pulls out His now-sensitive Cock. My mouth remains open and my body remains still. He goes over to the door, opens it partially, and retrieves something just outside my cell.
He inserts a short pecker gag and straps my well-worn leather muzzle to my face. My neck is now thick with collars and straps, but this is my happy place. I prefer the security of these layers. He leaves the muzzle unlocked, and then my collar buzzes twice, one time. Come with me.
I stand how Sir has taught me to stand from a kneeling position – one leg up first. Then I turn and follow Him out of my cell into the rest of the house. My mind briefly flashes through what the day might bring, but I head this off as soon as I can. Discipline. Submission. Sir’s in control. And that’s all that matters.
Metal would like to thank the author, Pup Aros,for this story and welcome him to the Prison Library!