By Sorbus

“I think it’s time we chatted about those consequences you’ve wracked up,” Sir’s voice shook me from my post-sex haze. Or rather post-blow job that has me just as horny after swallowing his load as I was before. . . could it be called post-sex if I didn’t actually get to get off?

“Consequences, Sir?” I shook my head, blinking in confusion. “What, uhm, what consequences are those? What did I do wrong, Sir?”

“Oh, boy, that was the wrong response!” Sir leaned forward, grabbing the loops of rope wrapped around my neck. It was a firm grip, not a strangle- it didn’t need to be painful to get his message across. Any lingering thoughts that might be lurking in the depths of my mind, ones that still might question this situation, my place, his dominance, were wiped out. His hand holding that rope combined with the look in his eyes pinned me in place, and yep. . . I was screwed! And not in a good way. . .

“It’s never your place to question if there are consequences, boy. There are consequences because I say there are consequences. But, I consider myself a fair and honest Dom, and since I believe that an ounce of explanation now avoids bitter resentment and more difficult training later on. . . I’ll list them off. You argued with me about taking a piss and you literally dug in your heels. You failed to comply when I told you to take a piss behind that tree and then complained about it. Worst of all, you tried to weasel out of admitting you’d lost that bet.”

His face was inches from mine, a frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. But other than that slight curve down, his face, his tone, his posture remained totally composed, totally in control. He wasn’t angry, which made it . . . arguably worse? I swallowed, nervous sweat now beading on my skin. Yep, I most definitely was screwed. . .

“So, boy, anything else you’d wish to say? Do you want to run up to the shed to grab a shovel, so you can dig yourself a literal hole right here?” He raised an eyebrow, slowly, and waited for my response.

I immediately began shaking my head, urgently and eyes widening. I decided that since my foot was already shoved into my mouth, remaining silent would be the wisest decision.

“Good boy,” he said after about 30 seconds of silence. Thirty seconds that had me squirming like a bug trapped under a magnifying lens. “Alright then. I don’t believe that postponing consequences is good for anybody. A boy who’s earned a negative consequence needs it as soon as possible, so he knows the connection between the cause and the effect. Get up, let’s get this dealt with.”

I leaned back, using the very limited leverage I had to get out of my kneeling position. I groaned slightly, as my aching knees protested the change in position. By the time I had gotten to my feet, he had also stood up, pants pulled back up and he was re-buckling his belt.

I followed behind him, chewing on my lower lip and wondering what exactly was going to happen. Thankfully, he didn’t make me wait too long. . .

“Wait for me boy,” he said once we reached the house. “I need to get a few supplies.”

He disappeared inside, closing the sliding door behind him to keep the cool air from escaping the air-conditioned house. It was then I realized that the glass had a mirrored coating, preventing me from being able to see inside. It did make me blush, at what I did see. There I stood in my tight dirt covered Wranglers, hair tousled and matted in sweaty disarrangement, a heavy backpack pulling my shoulders down, and my hands still tied behind my back. I scuffed the ball of a booted foot nervously on the ground, feeling every inch like a naughty schoolboy standing outside the principal’s office.

The mirrored glass did show some other things, however. I turned to the left and inhaled in surprise. A sex sling hung underneath the balcony that extended out from the second floor, next to a large weatherproof storage cabinet. The cabinet was closed, but I could easily imagine the toys and equipment it would be holding. Stepping closer to it, I realized that this covered area looked like it had been taken right out of a fetish catalog. The flogging post made me swallow nervously, but the padded x-shaped cross with the restraints had my cage feeling tight once more. I took a few steps closer to it, when I felt his hands gripping me.

“Oh no, boy, that’s not for you. At least not yet. Maybe tomorrow, depending on how good you behave. That’s only for good boys who listen and do what they’re told.” His voice was filled with amusement, and one hand groped my denim covered crotch. He snorted at what he felt, “Why am I not surprised.”

“I’m very sorry, Sir,” I said, inhaling sharply. “I want to apologize for my behavior. I didn’t realize it was that bad, but I understand now. I accept full responsibility for my actions and humbly beg your forgiveness. I will kneel down and beg if that would be pleasing to you, Sir.”

“Such a good boy,” he said, nipping at my ear with his teeth. The bite was just hard enough to make me flinch in reflex, and he gave a throaty chuckle. “See, I knew it was in there somewhere. You will make an excellent boy, once I get you trained good and proper. I think your consequence will help significantly towards that.”

“Of course, Sir,” I replied immediately. “I accept any punishment that you feel is appropriate for my actions, Sir. I didn’t apologize to escape it, but because I wanted you to know that I know that I was wrong.”

He squeezed the hand over my cage once more, making me squirm a little before he released me. He then began to untie my wrists, unknotting the rope easily. I shifted my shoulders, glad when the backpack was finally removed. It would have been punishment enough to make me keep walking around with it! My breath hitched in surprise as he began to unbutton my shirt. I stood still, as he removed it and then tossed it off to the side.

“Take off your boots, boy. Your socks too. And as much as I enjoy seeing you wearing them, it’s time for those Wranglers to go. I want you completely naked.” He stepped away, coming around to my front. He had a medium sized white storage tote, the stackable kind used for crafting or closet storage, which he set down on the sling, along with a wooden paddle. It was the kind a Frat house would hang on their wall. Because of course he would own one of those.

I quickly bent down, removing my boots and the rest of my clothing as swiftly as I could. I set them all down on the ground, next to where my shirt had been discarded, then I stood back up. My hands, self-consciously, moved to cover my caged state. He simply laughed and shook his head.

“Hands by your sides, boy. You have nothing to hide. You will never have anything to hide, not from me.” He said this as he opened the storage tote and pulled out a handful of clothespins.

I bit my lip again. This punishment wasn’t a particular surprise, considering how I’d told him that, unlike a lot of guys, my nipples were NOT an erogenous zone for me. Nipple play wasn’t something I’d ever enjoyed. And this most definitely wasn’t going to be play. . .

“Do you need me to gag you?” he asked, as he set the clothespins down and then picked up a sizeable butt plug. He looked at it for a moment, then set it back down. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, if you do. You can also yell or cry all you want. It’ll spook the deer, but nobody else will be able to hear you. We’re sitting on 20-plus acres of my family’s timberland, and the closest neighbor is not within earshot.”

I took a breath, my hands curling into loose fists. They were a failed attempt to suppress my nervousness as I battled my intrinsic fight-or-flight instinct. I was determined to face this like the man. . . er, boy that I was! “I’d like for you to gag me, Sir. Unless you’d rather I not be? I, uhm, uh. . .”

He smiled at that response, quirking his lips to keep from laughing at my nervous, failed response. “OK. But know that I won’t go easy on you. I want to make sure you understand the consequences for any future misbehaving actions. I’m not going to lure you into a false sense of security or comfort, or discomfort. I’m putting all cards on the table, but I have a feeling you want that, you need that.”

He opened my satchel and pulled out the gag as he said those words. I obediently opened my mouth as he approached me. Biting down on the rubber piece, I remained compliant, even at how tightly he buckled it. One of his hands pressed down on the back of my neck, guiding me over to the flogging post. I raised my hands, to show my submission and he buckled the restraints around my wrists.

“Alright, boy,” he said, returning to that storage tote. I watched as he picked up four 6-sided dice. “The lowest two numbers will be how many clothespins are going on those nips of yours. The highest two numbers will determine how many times I use the paddle. Both of those numbers will be doubled, so don’t think a pair of snake eyes are going to spare you.”

I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped my mouth, audible even through the thick leather gag. It changed to a moan when he responded with a throaty chuckle. I closed my eyes as I heard him shake the dice in his hands. Then I heard the plastic clattering noise as he tossed them down onto the ground by my feet.