By Sorbus

“Shr, ysh, Shr,” I mumbled through the O-ring of the gag. I used my tongue as best I could to wipe his manhood as he slowly pulled it out of my mouth, then I looked up at him. Sitting back on my heels, I winced as my paddled muscles flared slightly in pain.

“You’re such a good boy,” he said as he ruffled my hair. “Now, get up. I have more to show you.”

I struggled to my feet as he pulled his underwear and shorts back up and then crossed the narrow room. The entire thing was probably half the size as his closet, if not smaller. It was probably the same size as the guest bathroom.

“The boy bathroom is through this door. And yes, the shower has an enema nozzle that would be used regularly.” He opened the door and I was able to see the tiny room. There was a small shower, a sink, and an odd-looking urinal that seemed much smaller and much higher up the wall than I would have expected. Then I realized it was designed to be used by someone locked in chastity. Obviously Sir expected his boy (his boys?) to always be locked up. I of course had no problem with that! And, considering the daily enema use, there wasn’t a need for an actual toilet in here.

“The gear closet is right over here,” he said as he closed the bathroom door and opened another one. The smell of leather was. . . intoxicating. And there was stuff hanging there that I couldn’t begin to guess what it was. It looked like he’d gone on a mad shopping spree at Mr. S Leather or something! Straps and buckles dangled down from everywhere, the ‘clothing’ hanging neatly on wooden hangers. “My previous boy spent a lot of time in here, making sure this all was cleaned and taken care of.”

After a moment or two of smiling indulgently, as I stood there and stared in wonder, he closed that door and then steered me over to the bed. I would have pouted, had I not been gagged, when I saw him fold the leather sleep sack and set it off to the side. I’d never been in one but I’d seen enough videos that I would sure like to try it out.

He grinned at me, wagging his eyebrows up and down, as he pulled me down so we were both sitting on the narrow mattress. It was definitely smaller than a regular bed, so I guessed it was either custom made or it had come out of an RV or something. It was also surprisingly comfortable, which wasn’t something I was sure I had expected.

“I believe a well-rested boy is a happy boy,” he said as he watched my fingers press down behind me, testing the mattress with fingertips. He reached up and removed the gag, setting it off to the side. “I can’t have my boy sleep on a sheet of plywood, with a ratty blanket, and expect him to get a good night’s rest, now can I?”

“Sir, I, uh, don’t understand,” I said after I’d taken a moment to work my jaw back and forth. “May I, uh, ask some questions?”

“Of course, and good boy for asking.” He leaned back against the wall and pulled me up against him, one arm wrapping around my bare shoulders, with the fingers of that hand spreading over my collar bone. The other hand reached over to play with one of my nipples, inspecting it to see if the clothespins had left any lasting marks.

“From the way you talk, from everything I’ve seen. . . this is a sub’s paradise! I get it that, uhm, Justin was a pup, and you weren’t looking for that kind of a relationship. I just don’t understand why . . . why don’t you already have a boy? I’m just, I’m confused. Who would ever want to leave this kind of a place?” I shook my head, uncertain by all of his talk about ‘boys’ but it didn’t look like he’d every actually had one. Something seemed. . . a little fishy.

It suddenly occurred to me, that asking probing questions like this wasn’t necessarily the smartest idea. My hands were cuffed together, I was only wearing that now-saturated jockstrap, and his arm wasn’t all that far from my neck. I closed my eyes briefly, mentally pushing away the slasher horror music that had started playing in my head.

He seemed to sense my sudden . . . discomfiture. One arm was used to push me into a fully sitting position, and he pulled away slightly. His frown nearly crushed me, making me feel like I had just really screwed up, as he shifted his position so he was sitting perpendicular to me.

“It’s alright, boy.” His lips quirked upward, so at least he wasn’t frowning anymore. “I get it. I really do. First of all, just because I’ve got a trust fund, it doesn’t mean I’m willing to buy just any boy I want. Those Czech boys working their way through college online are all quite talented at what they do, but it’s still just fantasy. I definitely draw the line at human trafficking, especially because I do NOT want a slave. And I’m not old, either. I haven’t lived long enough to have had a string of boys that I’ve trained and then traded in. And third, this isn’t Seattle or San Francisco or New York. We live in a western mountain state and I’m sure you see the conservative politics out here, which is kind of why our Pride parades around here suck so badly, am I right?  And no, I’m not really interested in finding some random ‘boy with bag, will relocate to serve dom.’ I’m not gonna judge those who do, but it’s just not what I want.”

His voice trailed off, and he smirked when he saw me blush a little, as if imagining that kind of a thing. Was that something I myself would be willing to do. . ? I shook my head. My twink days were behind me, although my student loans were still piling up. Grad school is expensive!

“And after the time I spent with Patrick, the college boy I alluded to before, I’m not really interested in lurking in the college bars, hoping some boy is actually going to want to stick around after he graduates. And no, I wouldn’t be willing to convince him to drop out of school, to live here 24/7. Now, would I turn him down? No, no I don’t think would,” he glanced side eyed at me, as if wondering what I was looking for, but then shook his head. “Aside from Justin, I’ve pretty much spent the last five years traveling to Seattle and San Francisco, to go and scratch that itch when I want to dominate a boy. Patrick, Justin, and now you, are the only boys I’ve ever actually had in here.”

“But,” I looked around the room again, my brow furrowing in confusion. I looked up at him as I continued, “this room! Sir, why’d you buy all if you don’t have a boy to use it on? This stuff must have cost a fortune!”

“That it did,” he replied with chuckle. “My funds manager did call, wanting to know about the larger than normal withdrawal when I set all this up, including the equipment outside. . . But that, I’ll admit, that was a lot of Patrick’s doing. And, in hindsight, I’m glad he’s gone. He’s the kind of guy who gives you boys a bad name. He groveled at my feet, even put on quite a show at this one leather store in . . . but it didn’t take me long to realize how manipulative he was. Judging by his falling grades during his last semester, I’m sure he believed I’d let him move in, I’m sure he was gunning for that 24/7 slave position. . .”

I remained silent when his words trailed off. Several pieces clicked into place then, some unspoken questions were answered.

“Yeah,” he finally said with shrug, “the look on his face when I told him it was time to move on with his life was . . . something else. That’s why I’ve been, well, hesitant, about taking on a new boy.  But I’m also not one to turn down an opportunity, either. Especially when a boy tangles himself up like a fly tangled in a spider’s web. I’m not going to let a foolish boy playing ‘roped up cowboy’ just wander off.”

The look he gave me made me blush and I gave him an impish grin, like Puck from Shakespeare. What else was I going to do? I couldn’t really deny it!

“So,” he said as he got to his feet, pulling me up along with him. “So, there we have it.”

I stood there, watching in confusion as he picked up a set of keys from a shelf on the wall. He used them to unlock the handcuffs and then placed it all back on that shelf.

“Sir?” I asked, rubbing my wrists from where the metal had bitten in slightly, from how I’d been positioned on the bed. “Uhm. . .”

“I think we both have some decisions to make,” he said, reaching up to run a thumb along my jawline. He started at my earlobe and then ended at my mouth. I obediently opened my lips for him. “I’m not going to force you to stay here. I’m also not going to let you make this decision right now, when I know it’s your little brain that’s going to be making it. If this is something you want, something you need, then I want you to make sure you’ve thought it all the way out. And also, I want you to know what you’re agreeing to, knowingly and of your own free will. I’m not going to force your submission like it’s your virginity on prom night. I’m not going to hook you up to e-probes and shock you until I break your spirit.”

He pulled his thumb out of my mouth and then put his hand on the back of my neck, guiding me out of that wonderous room.

“Sir,” I tried to say, but his hand moved to cover my mouth.

“Nope, not your time to speak yet, boy,” he said as he led me down the hall and back into the living room. He continued to speak as he guided me through his house. “If I chose to do anything more with you, then I want to know it’s what you’re submitting to. I’m not going to break you, to turn you into some saddle-broken gelding, unless it’s something YOU choose. So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to put your clothes back on. Then I’m going to open the front gate and you’re going to walk back to your car. You’re going to think about everything I’ve said. I know you will, because I can tell that overthinking brain of yours is spinning like crazy.”

Every part of me wanted to shout, to yell, to pull back against him, to stop this sudden ridiculousness. . . this, this craziness! What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t how the pornos and the stories went! But I continued to listen, to walk along beside him, as he took me down the stairs and back outside, returning to the patio.

“I’m serious, boy. I want you to think very, very carefully. I want you to be absolutely sure this is, in fact, what you want. You can uncage yourself for a couple days, if you need to. If you need to think freely, without the maddening horniness you caged boys have.” He finally let me go, but he held up a finger to prevent me from speaking. He then handed me my clothes and waited until I started pulling them on before he continued. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give me your mailing address. In a few days, you’ll get something from me. It will contain directions of what you will have to do, what you will need to do, if we’re going to continue this. Consider it your final act of choosing, if you’d like. Because once you’ve received that letter, once you’ve done what the directions say, then I take the reins. Then you can look forward to becoming that saddle broken gelding- although I won’t actually geld you. Then, and only then, will I take control. Then and only then will I keep that control.”

“Sir, but, Sir. This is stupi-” my words cut off when he stepped forward to grab me. I nearly fell over, only one leg of my Wrangler’s pulled up my shin, when he led me over to the flogging post.

“That, boy, was stupid. Very, very stupid of you. Perhaps I’ve been too indulgent, taken it too easy on you, made you think I’m some sort of bdsm-bff. So I’m going to give you something to think about. Something that will keep you thinking about me, and what being a boy really means, as you walk down the road.”

He buckled my wrists into the restraints and then picked up the paddle. I cried out in shock when it landed, striking my left glute. I kind of wish I would have pulled my Wranglers up before I started speaking. Although, considering the power of his arm, they wouldn’t have given me any real protection.

He waited, posed for a second strike, finally raising an eyebrow and frowning. “The number just doubled boy.”

“One, Sir.” My words were tinged with hurt and a touch of anger. This was NOT what I had been expecting! I flinched, and ground my teeth together when the paddle struck again. “Two, Sir.”

I didn’t understand why he was wanting to physically hurt me like this. It felt like he was using his entire body strength. The earlier paddling had been nothing compared to the pain he was inflicting now! This felt like he had sailed right past ‘discipline’ and was aiming for something else. My mind whirled in confusion, trying to fit all the pieces together.

I’d always avoided the more. . . extreme bdsm videos and stories, and any that did catch my eye had had me certain ‘no way this could possibly be real.’ My fantasies had been more ‘bondage for fun’ and less ‘disciplinary domination’. It was growing quickly obvious that I should have delved more deeply into those darker corners. . . Maybe I should have done more than just peep inside that metaphorical gimp hood. . .

“Three, Sir. . . four, Sir. . . five, Sir. . . si- six, Sir. . . sssseven, Sir. . . eigh. . .eight, Sir, nnnnnnine, Sir! Te, te, ten. . . Sir!” My voice turned ragged, breaking as he continued to swing that paddle. I wasn’t sure if I was glad that he wasn’t striking the same place or not. . . not that it really mattered, because the pain became an all-consuming sensation.

My voice was gasping, rasping, barely audible on that final number. . . “tw. .. . tw. . twen. . . twenty.” My clenching teeth couldn’t stop the hiss from turning into a pained whimper, when I felt his hands. His hands slid over my burning skin, sliding over where he’d paddled me. There was no doubt- I wouldn’t be sitting down for a week. I shuddered at the thought of having to drive home!

“I won’t apologize, boy,” he said as he took me in his arms, holding me upright as I sagged against him. “I won’t apologize, because I want you to know, need you to know, everything you would be signing up for. This was extreme, yes, but I want you to know, I need you to know just how strong I really am. To realize, to consider, that if I’m willing to paddle you this hard now. . . just what will happen in two months, or six months.” His tone dropped then, losing all gentleness and turning rough, that predatory tone returning, “And yes, I really am hoping you’ll choose to follow the directions of that letter, because I’d love to make you my boy. You can curse and blame Patrick, but I’m not going to make the same mistakes I made with him. I’m determined to do it the right way this time, with the right boy. I don’t know if that’s you. I don’t know if I need to keep looking, but doing it the right way is something I deserve for myself. And my boy deserves it too, no matter how uncomfortable or painful it might be for him, until he adjusts.”

I nearly bit through my lip, clamping down in a failed attempt to stop the gasp and whimper as he pulled my Wranglers up. The denim was far too rough as it slid up my abused thighs and my ass. It burned like fire as he zipped and buttoned them, as he fixed the buckle into place. He released my wrists so I could pull my shirt over my head.

“Now, type your mailing address in here for me,” he said as he handed me his phone. It had a note app open, and I had to blink several times before I could see well enough. I made sure I hadn’t misspelled my street or transposed any numbers.

I handed it back from him, huffing slightly. Oh yes, he knew me well, my mind was definitely in overdrive. I took my satchel from him, hefting the unexpected weight. I paused to open it, not finding his grin amusing at all, and then I looked up at him. He’d stuffed it full of electrolyte drinks, and even a Ziploc back of . . . jerky?

“It’s elk” he explained. He looked oddly. . . discombobulated? It looked like he was almost at war with himself, as if he were struggling with what he had done, or wanted to do? “I make the jerky myself. Now, get going, because as unfair as you think I’m being to you. . . it’s taking every ounce of will power not to bend you over and take you now. To grab you, and to strap you down and. . . no, no. Not yet.”

Those last two words were clearly directed at himself, judging by how tightly his hands were clenched. And by the sizeable bulge in those shorts of his. And then his shifted, almost odd demeanor made sense. He obviously didn’t want me to leave, but was choosing to do the arguably responsible thing! I could have, would have fallen to my knees right there!

But then he was striding past me, one hand clamping onto my shoulder as he dragged me along behind him. And then? He was firmly pushing me through a smaller gate next to the siding driveway one. I heard it close behind me, latching into place.

I turned around immediately, but this gate wasn’t some garden variety. It looked more like a wall, an impenetrable barrier that shut out the world from his private domain. It was practically invisible, with no handle or latch on this side. I stood there for a few moments, but the only sound I heard were the stellar jays and an irritated chickadee, then the exhaled snort of a white-tailed deer whose feeding was disrupted by my presence.

With no realistic option before me, I turned and started walking. Or limping, rather. Yeah, this was going to be a very long three miles. . . My entire backside burned like it was on fire. But even through the pain, I was grinning. He wanted me. He pushed me away, yes. But he wanted me. I rubbed at my chest, over my heart, savoring that feeling. Yeah, I appeared to have misjudged him a bit, but he wanted me. I had never felt something like this before. My current dating life was abysmal, and my past relationships weren’t any better.

A few days, he’d said? I could wait a few days. No problem!

***

Yeah, those next three days were miserable. Three miserable, rotten, stinking days. It was early evening on that third day, and I’d started to lose hope. But then I pulled the mail out of the mailbox. “Junk mail, bill, bill, junk, junk . . .” I sorted through it dejectedly, then let them all drop to the ground, ignoring them just as I was ignoring the drive-through bag that had once contained a couple of McDouble burgers and a large order of fries that fell from where I’d been holding it in my arm. Nor did I pay any attention to the half-empty iced tea that was now leaking out of that bag and spreading around my left foot. An envelope, with blue edging and “Priority Mail Express” stamped on the front and back, had my hands trembling in excitement.

I ripped it open, my fingers fumbling as I unfolded the papers. A surprising number of sheets, actually. And a tiny cloth drawstring bag? I looked at it for a moment in confusion, before stuffing it in my pocket, and turned to the top sheet.

~Boy, you’re either half mad with horniness or you’ve been acting like a kicked puppy. And since I’m sure it’s the second one, knock it off. Justin is the pup, not you. Also you will stop eating fast food. Immediately. No more eating the so called ‘product’ from McDonalds. You get home in plenty of time to make a decent meal. Now, if you’ve decided to submit to me, here’s what you’re going to do. . .~

To be continued …