By Sorbus

Note from the author- sorry about the delay. Back to school for teaching arrived faster than I was ready. . . and it’s a BUSY year! I’m not sure how many more parts I’ll be able to pull off, or the timeline for them, but I promise I’ll make sure to give a solid ending.

From part 15:

Then, a few seconds later and with one final thrust, his hips snapping forward, and that tension broke. I cried out, feeling him shooting inside me, that enormous shaft quivering like a lightning rod that had just been struck.

And, much to my surprise, he wasn’t the only one! My caged organ began to shoot as well, the thick milky substance setting a personal record as it shot and oozed out of the front of my cage. After a few seconds of ecstasy, so overwhelming it was bordering on agony, my head fell backwards. I panted, my breathing out of control as he held me suspended in the air. My arms were like noodles, my fingers to rubbery to hold onto the chain. It was by his strength alone that I was still in the air.

He nuzzled at my neck, and I felt him sucking, obviously intending to leave a VERY visible mark on my skin. I was powerless to stop him, but I wouldn’t have if I could. I was too busy trying to keep my soul inside my body, because I was certain I was dying and about to go to heaven.

But, sadly, good things can’t last forever. . . Eventually he pulled his softening ramrod out, eventually he lowered me down, making sure I was able to stand on my still shaky legs.

And then I felt pressure again. My head lolled slightly, feeling entirely too heavy for my body as I tried to look over my shoulder. I couldn’t see anything, but it was obvious that he was putting the plug back in.

He grinned at me, at the pupil-blown, glazed eye expression, at the goofy grin I had on my face. “This will be staying in until bedtime, Boy.”

Part 16:

I nodded obediently, too busy focusing on getting my heartrate and breathing to come down to more normal levels, to give a verbal response. But I would have been surprised if he hadn’t done that. Wasn’t that an important Dom/Sub thing- letting the juices ‘marinate’ inside the boy? It made me feel kind of special, actually.

He reached over and up, plucking a key off a plastic hook. It was in the corner of the shower, well above where the spraying water might hit, and he used it to unlock the wrist cuffs holding my arms above my head.

“Alright, Boy,” he said as he sluiced water off his arms. “Towels are in the wall cabinet, to the left of the sink. Go get one and then get us dry.”

I nodded, expecting nothing else, and I quickly went to fetch one. He had stepped out of the shower and he looked at me. I was ready for this test- I’d studied up! I made sure he was fully dry, rubbing the surprisingly soft and fluffy cotton over his entire body. Only then, after he nodded in approval, did I use the same towel to dry myself. I paused for a moment, to sniff my skin. I grinned when I discovered I smelled like him. The linger scent of the body wash made me feel all sorts of pleasure, of pride, feeling as if he had marked me with his scent.

But he didn’t leave me much time to dwell on that, as he walked out of the bathroom and into his closet. I obediently followed along, until he pointed at the ‘boy room’. “I’ve laid out what I want you to wear for the rest of the day. Go put it on, but don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

I walked through the door, confused by that comment. . . until I saw why. Yeah, I wasn’t really expecting these! The black leather shorts had locks on them, multiple locks for the belt and thighs. Pulling them on wasn’t a problem, nor was pulling the straps tight. But I had to swallow my nerves because I didn’t see any keys. Once I locked them, I was stuck in them. But, wasn’t that kind of the point? I couldn’t help but swallow again as I fingered the belt lock, holding it so the clasp was just millimeters away from entering the lock and clicking shut. But then with the barest hint of a shrug (it was too late to back out now, right?), I pressed my fingers and heard the small sound. The leg locks were next, and I turned around, looking at myself in a full-length mirror I had somehow missed before.

“Yeah, those will do nicely.” Sir’s voice from the doorway made me jump in surprise, and I blushed again.

“Thank you Sir. They, uh, they fit great. And they look amazing!” I ran my fingers over the leather pouch, down the front, and along the bottom edge of the shorts. They only had a 4-inch inseam, so there wasn’t actually all that material to them. I was grateful for the pouch, because it gave plenty of room for my cage.

“Good. Now go get a bottle of juice and a bottle of water out of the fridge, then meet me on the back balcony. We need to finalize that agreement.” He turned and walked away, leaving to me standing there in front of that mirror. “Now, Boy. Stop staring at yourself. You’re pretty, but not that pretty!”

I hurried from the room, barely managing to prevent myself from hitting the door. After fetching the drinks, I paused at the sliding glass door. I looked down at my bare feet, then looked at the dirty wooden boards of the deck on the other side. It wasn’t that I was afraid of getting dirty- I was much more concerned about tracking dirt back inside!

“Flip flops are on the shoe rack, to your left behind the curtain.” His voice sounded amused as he called back to me. I swear, he was reading my mind!

The noise of the slip-on sandals was comical, because they were at least 2 sizes too big. I stepped out carefully, not wanting to trip and fall flat on my face (that was a possibility for me on any given day), and the sound of slapping foam on the wood seemed out of place here, unacceptable in the quiet air of the forest. I tried sliding my feet, but that wasn’t any better. Yeah, I really was overthinking. . . But it didn’t get any better when I came to where he was sitting.

Sir was sitting back, a picture of relaxed contentment in his Adirondack chair. There was another one not-quite close enough, but still easily fetchable. A footrest had been pushed off to the side, but that didn’t seem quite right either. I didn’t dare assume I should just sit in his lap! Was I supposed to kneel? Should I sit there between his legs? Should I continue to stand?

“Unless I tell you otherwise, you should always sit on the floor or ground, between my legs. Your back should be towards me. Obviously this needs to be a standing rule, otherwise you’re going to burst a blood vessel in your brain.” He taped the front of the chair, between his legs, then held out a hand. I offered him the juice, which was clearly the correct choice, because he took it and then opened it while I sat where he had directed me. I opened my water, drinking deeply. The slight pressure he gave me, squeezing his legs slightly together, helped enormously to get me grounded and feel much more calm.

“Alright, Boy,” he said, after a few moments of peace-filled quiet. “There’s a couple of minor things, some negotiations I want us to discuss and agree to. As I previously stated, I’m not looking for any sort of castrated slave. I’m also not looking for a gimp. . . at least not yet. If that changes, we’ll discuss it and make sure it’s something you want as well. I accept your submission as the gift it is. I’m not going to ruin it by pushing you into something too quickly. So, having said that, let’s get this finalized so the real fun can begin.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from blooming on my face, and I felt the last remaining tension slip out of my shoulders. A gimp, huh? Was that really something he might want in the future? Was that something I wanted? To be dressed in tight leather or rubber, with cuffs and a harness, and a collar, and a hood, and a . . . A sharp tap on my head, from the pen that had been clipped to the papers, ended my daydream.

“Sorry, Sir,” I said, ducking my head slightly. I took a deep drink from the bottle in my hand, and listened closely as he began speaking.

***

An hour or so later, the crunching sound of car tires on gravel came from the front of the house. He tightened his grip, his thighs squeezing my body and one hand clamping down to hold my head in place. “Alright, Boy, time for a little test. That’s DoorDash. Dinner is here. Go get it.”

My mouth fell open, as I lowered my eyes to look at my very minimally clad body. I would have turned my head, to see if he really was serious, but the fingers pressing down on my scalp felt like they were made of stone.

“Ye. . . yes, Sir,” I replied, taking a deep breath. He used his hand to make my head nod up and down a couple of times, before releasing me. I stood up and gave my body another glance. Yeah, this was gonna suck. . . Maybe if the shorts weren’t literally locked on me, I could at least pretend this was just a normal ‘greet the delivery guy’. But there was no denying anything other than exactly what it was!

“Go around the side of the house. There’s a side gate off to the left. I’ve already sent the guy a tip, but he knows to wait for you.” Sir put his hands behind his head, his eyelids lowering halfway down, and he watched me with a neutral expression.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, shuffling off. I wondered if he would let me bring a pair of flip flops that actually fit me next time. . .

I gasped, when I rounded the corner and stopped in disbelief. “Ja- Jason?”

“What up?” Jason said with playful head jerk. “Your Master Daddy Sir seemed especially glad when he saw that I was at the top of the list for Dashers, or else he’s just an incredibly generous tipper. Wow, is that a chastity cage in that pouch or are you just happy to see me?”

“Give me that,” I said, blushing furiously. I reached out for the food, but Jason simply took two steps backwards and shook his head.

“Oh, your Master Daddy Sir isn’t going to like you speaking to me in that way.” Jason started to pull out his phone, when I lurched forward. It didn’t occur to me that he didn’t actually have cell service! I was much more concerned about preventing Jason from tattling on me! It also didn’t occur to me that making suddenly moves while wearing oversized flip flops was a really bad idea. I stumbled, falling forward and going down on all fours in front of him. “Oh, you’re going to get down and beg for my forgiveness? Let’s see it then.”

Blushing furiously, because he set the bag of food on my back to prevent me from getting back up, I took a breath. And then the words came pouring out of my mouth. The flood of begging and apologizing had him laughing, but he lifted the bag off of me, allowing me to get back to my feet.

“Now be a good boy and say ‘thank you Sir Jason.” His laughter wasn’t sadistic or mocking, even though he started to extend the bag towards me, only to jerk it back.

“Thank you Sir Jason,” I replied, somewhat monotone. Yeah. . . things were definitely going to be different between the two of us. But. . . why was I suddenly straining in my cage?

“Enjoy your weekend. Glad to see he’s taking good care of you so far,” Jason handed me the food, looking me up and down as he did so, as if he was looking for any signs of whip lashes or bruises. “Remember, I’ll come beat down this door if you don’t show up on Monday. I’ll hogtie you and throw you in the back of my car if I have too!”

“You and Dr. Travers,” I said with a shake of my head. “I really do appreciate it though, knowing how much you’d miss me!”

Jason nodded in response, looking suddenly thoughtful. “Doc Travers is in on this too? Huh. I guess my gaydar needs some fine tuning. Alright, get back to your Daddy Master Sir. You don’t want his food getting cold.”

He turned and left, exiting the same side gate I had previously used. I then turned and hurried off, returning back to Sir. My stomach growled from the amazing food smells coming from the carry out bag, and I hoped he’d let me feed myself this time. Or not? Actually, I’d eat it out of a dog bowl, if that’s what he wanted, as long as he let me eat this!

Dinner tasted just as good as it smelled, and after it had been disposed off, he ordered me to follow him down to the ‘outdoor play area’. My suspicion about that ‘cell’ somewhere inside the basement became stronger. Surely, if there was an ‘outdoor’ play area, there simply had to be an ‘indoor’ one too!

I continued to think about this, even while he strapped me to the wooden x-shaped restraint, my wrists cuffed behind me and my ankles spread wide. He buckled some additional straps around me- chest, waist, separate thigh straps, and much to my surprise, there was a piece of wood, hinged behind me, that he folded up and locked into place. This was for a strap that went across my forehead, pinning my head there. It also had a clip, which he attached to the back of my collar, restricting my movements even more.

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll get the packing wrap and I’ll mummify you to this,” he said as he double checked all of the buckles, testing the tightness before adding locks for some extra security. “Imagine, being wrapped so tightly you can’t move, with a remote-controlled vibrating plug hitting your prostate. Gagged or muzzled so your cries won’t disturb the birds while I play with the settings?”

“Yeah! Uh, yes, uh please? Uh, Sir.” My mouth went dry with excitement and I wondered if I had been perhaps too eager. His rumbling chuckle and groping hands made it clear he approved, he wanted to hear that excitement! One hand clamped over the pouch of the locking leather shorts, squeezing none-too-gently. The other hand cupped my face, fingers slide down my jaw. Two of his fingers pressed between my lips and I sucked on them obediently.

“What’s the longest you’ve used a vibrating wand on yourself, Boy?” he asked me as slowly pulled those fingers out. I whimpered at the fact that he had stepped away, and I watched him open the weatherproof cabinet, pulling out a black massage wand, along with an extension cord.

“10 minutes, maybe? I, I don’t really know, Sir. I just play around with it until I cum in my cage,” I tried to shrug, but I was pretty immobilized by his restraints. I wondered, idly, what he’d say if I asked for a few more? Maybe some rope? His talk about mummifying me was literally a fantasy come true for me!

“That’s all?” he asked with a scoffing noise. “Only 10 minutes? Well, it’s a good thing you’re buckled down. . . because I’m going to play with you for a whole lot longer than that! And since you decided to cum in the shower already, don’t expect it to happen again. Judging by the look on your face, I think I’d better gag you before we begin. Sure, I enjoy begging, but I think it’s best if we muffle the cries you’re going to be making for the next 30 minutes. And that’s just going to get me warmed up.”

THIRTY minutes? And it would be longer?! I’d never successfully edged myself, not really. Never more than single digit numbers. I always got too excited, and I’d always been unlocked. And the times I’d cum locked had never been an edging experience. The thought of him using that wand on me for 45 minutes? An hour? Surely he wouldn’t go longer than that, right? Right?

Oh, how very, very wrong I was. I don’t think it was even 15 minutes before I was whimpering, begging, pleading. . . making all sorts of noises I didn’t even know I could make, as the gag muffled my sounds. Turns out he didn’t need to add any more restraints, because these more than strong enough to hold me trapped and helpless.

It was about the 18th time. . . 29th time . . . I had no idea which one it was, when he slowly pulled the wand away, teasing me yet again. I had been so close! So close to cumming this time! Yeah, I was certain he’d punish me if I came, but I was no longer thinking very clearly. My hair was soaked in sweat, my face was dripping with it, but still he continued. I had no idea what time it was, but here he went again.

The vibrating wand was pressed tightly into my perinium, not touching the base of the cage through the leather shorts. Shorts that, I was certain, had a pouch filled with the precum I must be leaking like a faucet. The wand then slowly, oh so slowly, began to move in little circles. He was waiting for me to come back from the edge, although if he pressed any harder with that wand. . . I was going to have a hands-free orgasm whether he wanted it to not. That was completely, well, completely out of my hands!

But then he was slowly moving the wand away again. It slowly, oh so slowly, began to travel up the left sight, still managing to avoid the base ring. He guided it in a large arch, up and over the pouch of the leather shorts, before he paused for a moment and then reversed the action.

“On a scale of 1-10, how close are you to coming?” He asked me. He’d already established a system, of holding up fingers. I was to make a grunting noise when he reached that number.

My breath exhaled sharpy out of my nose, as he held up one finger at a time. When he reached five fingers, he put them all down and then started again. A thumb raised again was the number six. Then two fingers raised again was 7. I grunted when he got to 8, even though I really. . . really, really, really, didn’t want to be that honest. I wanted to cum so badly!

He smiled and nodded, then continued playing with the wand, guiding it over my shorts. But this time, he went around behind me. This time he guided the wand around my side and guided it down the seat of the shorts, probing and pressing until he’d found the plug still buried inside me. I had been down to a 6, maybe a 5, at that point. But the way he pressed on that plug? The way he guided the vibrating wand, the way he changed the angle of how he was pressing? I grunted twice, signaling that I was at a 9. And closely approaching a 10! He chuckled, wrapping an arm around my abdomen as he suddenly bore down, pressing the wand hard, almost stabbing it down on the end of the plug.

I grunted twice again, my noises pleading, begging. Pleading him, begging him to stop. Pleading him, begging him to keep going! I wanted him to stop, so that I wouldn’t disappoint him. But I wanted him to keep going, to give me the release I so desperately, desperately needed! He hadn’t given me permission to cum, but he also had not given me permission!

And then . . . it was gone- all pressure was gone, all vibrating was gone. He was gone! I turned my eyes, trying my best to see what was going on behind me. The forehead strap was slick with sweat, but he had tightened it about 15 minutes ago, making it completely impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes.

My breathing blasted out of my nose in a sharp exhale. I watched, barely believing as he turned the vibrating wand off and began to coil up the cords. He put them back into the storage cabinet and then came to stand in front of me.

He looked at me appraisingly, a predator deciding where the best place to pounce would be, and then he began to release me, unbuckling the straps that had pinned me in place.

I could barely stand, when I was finally free. My arms and legs felt like they were made of Jell-O. I sank down, grunting as I landed on my butt, the plug pressing hard into my hole, as I sat on the ground, breathing blasting through my nose.

I barely had the energy to lift my head, when he reached down, but I nodded, nuzzling against his palm. This had been unbelievable. This was unbelievable! My skin felt like it was on fire, in the best possible way. Every nerve in my body was sending signals to my brain, begging for more, begging for it to be over.

I’d never done drugs, never wanted to be addicted to anything stronger than coffee. But this? Him? Oh yeah, this was something I wanted to be addicted to. He was something I wanted to be addicted to. He could have put that metal glue into the lock on my collar and I wouldn’t have resisted! He could have done the same to the keyhole in my cage. I could only imagine what was going to happen next!

The next part, anticlimactically, turned out to be a soak in the cold tub. . .

“I don’t want to break my new toy,” he said with a laugh as he helped me stand up. I followed him over to the not-hot tub full of water and to my surprise, he pulled a key out of his pocket. “I also don’t want those shorts getting ruined, Boy.”

He really was always prepared! It occurred to me then that he would have put that key in his pocket before I had ever arrived. Those shorts, with the locks, had been laid out, waiting for me. They’d been there before we had showered, before I’d sucked him off in the living room, before I’d stripped in the garage. And that meant he’d had the key this entire time. I was enthralled at how well he planned things out.

“I’ll show you how to properly clean these tomorrow,” he said as he peeled those shorts off my skin. And yes, those shorts were sticky. Very, very sticky from the sweat and precum I’d been leaking. He set them off to the side, along with the locks and the key, and then climbed into the water.

He turned the jets on, making the cold water swirl around. It felt amazing on my overheated skin, and I sank down to my shoulders. I barely stopped, remembering at the last minute that I was still collared.

“When we’re done here, it’ll be time for bed,” he told me as he held me close, pulling me so I was sitting between his legs, supporting me so I wouldn’t slip any further down. “I noticed your reaction, before, when you saw that sleep sack. And yes, you’ll be sleeping in it. However, considering I don’t know how often you get up to piss in the night, and it’s not relevant if you don’t at all. . . I’m going to require something before I tuck you into it.”

My eyebrows raised, and I waited in anticipation. The sharp exhale of breath from my nose had him chuckling, after he spoke his next words.

“I’m not going to risk you wetting yourself inside that sleepsack, so you have to decide. Do you want me to put a catheter in you or do you want me to diaper you for the night?”