By Prisoner805

Waking Up In Jail

I couldn’t believe how well I had slept. I rolled over and adjusted a number of times during the night, each time feeling the wet spot at the opening in my chastity belt, noticing the musky smell of crotch and cum. That only made me throb more in the belt. This whole thing was one vicious cycle. I thought to get up and call out a number of times, but I corrected myself. When AR wants me up, he’ll order me up. If I’m smart, I’ll get my rest while I’m able.

AR did come to the bars, and wasted no time pointing to his crotch. I quickly got to my knees and made myself useful through the bars. I had always wanted to be used through the bars of a jail. I’ve previously sucked cock through the bars of a cage so I knew it was going to be right up there on the “gotta try it” scale. Sure enough, it was amazing. After a little bit, AR was done with my mouth.

He passed my boots and muzzle in and told me to put them on. Then came the 4 buckle hand restraints and leg irons for over my boots. Once I had them all on, he told me to get up against the wall. He came in and inspected me, then told me to turn so that he could take in his work for a moment.

AR took me back to solitary again. I thought I had fucked up, but I’d later learn that I had done just fine. AR just wanted me locked in a dark hole. There, he had me stand in the middle of the cell facing the gate. He locked my hands high to the side walls, forcing me into a standing spread eagle in the middle of the cold room with nothing to lean on. He shut the gate, then the iron door. That’s when it happened…

A Caged Beast

Up until now, I had made it a point to be docile. To behave. Don’t be a pushy sub like you were once told you were. Man up and take it. You can do this. You asked for this. All of it. Even the stuff that sucks. A thousand thoughts crossed my mind and then they all went silent.

My cock began pouring precum. I realized that I was a stored slave. Not only that, but with this thick chain and padlock, I was wearing the medal of what was most likely AR’s toughest boy. Not only had I become his prison slave, but I was his alpha slave. Better, tougher, and more resilient than the other subs he’d cuffed. Hell, we were way beyond handcuffs. I’ve always identified as a sub, never a slave. But for the first time I felt legitimately stripped of my humanity. I was truly an object hung up on a rack that was only as useful as its possessor thought it was. Not only that, but I was a prized object. Fuck I was proud.

AR came back in and asked if I was horny. “FUCH YAHH” I muscled through the gag. He started to notice that I was getting my pride about me. Time for another test of my strength.

AR pulled me from solitary and told me to drop. I was to do pushups. He told me to knock out 25. No problem, I thought. I do pushups during my workouts all the time. I sounded off each of them and completed the set. He told me to rest briefly, and then demanded another set. What I hadn’t figured in is that my arms were tired from being strung up in solitary. I only made it to 10. The caveat was that for each pushup I didn’t complete, I got a stroke during spanking. I went straight from the floor to a puppy cage in the dungeon. I decided not to waste down time so I did sit ups and pullups as best I could, precum dripping from my cock cage the whole time. Every now and then I would collect some and try to taste it around my gag, needy bastard that I was. He came back and moved me to a standing cage where I was to wait until AR punished me for my failures.

I stood there urgently horny, convinced that the craziness in my cock would literally burst through the steel of the cage holding it down. AR put clothespins on my nipples and took them off pretty soon after. The pain drew a grunt and deep breaths from me. I know how to handle some soreness. Then he drove his fingers into them and amped up the pain, yelling that I was his bitch. I yelled back through my gag, telling him that he was right and that I needed more. Eventually I was so overcome with need that I actually started to sob, begging for the relief of an orgasm or a fucking. I just needed some sort of sexual attention. Proud that he had gotten me to do that, I was moved on eventually to serve my punishment.

Punishing Weakness

He strapped me to the spanking bench and selected his tools. We were interrupted by his phone, however. When he came back, he told me that a friend of mine with whom AR had been chatting was so excited by my situation that he had sent a pic of his own rock hard, 8 inch, meaty thick, now dripping cock. My jealous cock heaved in its iron binding. My ass begged for attention. I was enraged. AR started a video and I cussed my friend out as best I could through the drool filled muzzle as it dripped onto the bench, promising that when I got him locked down next, he was in the deepest of shit. (As I write this, said friend has since been locked into a chastity belt by his husband in an open ended sub contract. Karma’s a bitch, and now, apparently you’ve been made one too! Not gonna lie, I’m a bit jealous though. Haha.)

After that, AR administered my spanking. I absolutely hate spanking. Especially when it’s done with a tool like a paddle. AR started with a leather gloved hand. That hurt too, but it was more subdued and felt like the flogger. I could take it. I sounded off with each stroke “One, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” as best I could through the muzzle. AR got to 9, but it landed poorly. I could tell that it didn’t have the effect that AR wanted. It didn’t hurt, and to my mind, that meant it didn’t count. AR likes me because I’m tough. I can take a significant ration of torment. This was no time to take the easy way out. I recounted “Eight, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” He must have been smiling, because 9 and 10 came quickly and HARD, but I owed 15.

That fucking paddle came out. A flat, leather, multi-stranded, motherfucker of a switch. Those 5 strokes made me scream, especially when a couple of the strands landed between my ass cheeks and hit my taint. I hollered in pain and jumped with such force that the entire bench came off of the ground under me. After a few deep pants, I had my shit together and AR delivered #15.

Pain, Pride, and Becoming a Slave

It hurt bad. My ass was burning, and I had paid my price. Fuck that though, I’m not done. “Sir, may I have 5 more, please!” AR made me confirm, but then proudly delivered the bonus blows. He landed them right on top of my already reddening marks. Damnit it hurt, but it also felt really, really hot. I was handling this. I was making Sir happy. Fuck, it was amazing. AR pulled me off of the bench and let me rest for a moment. It didn’t take me long to signal my readiness. My craze must have shown in my eyes. I was hoisted up for a flogging before I knew it. Now this I was going to enjoy…

I don’t know how many strokes I got. He just kept landing them. It was a heavy leather flogger. I could feel the air as it approached and came crashing down on my blood rich, red back. After a while I just breathed. I grunted with each stroke. Each grunt brought about a pump of my cock in its metal prison. I could feel beads of ooze pushing through it with each pump. My eyes rolled, my breathing deepened and stabilized. My back began to sear, but it tingled too. I was being whipped harder and harder, but I was enjoying it more and more. It didn’t need to stop, but eventually, AR appeared in front of me. He was snapping photos and I could tell what he wanted. AR wanted to see what he had formed. He had been working on me for hours and hours and I was showing   him just how tough I was. He calls it beast mode. Maybe so. For me, it’s just pride that I can take whatever is dished out.

AR got a photo of me staring him down through the camera. The look was confident. Respectfully defiant. Sure, I was a naked guy strung up in leather restraints to an iron bar on the ceiling, muzzled and gagged in leather, collared by a heavy chain, cock locked in steel, booted and chained at the ankles, but I was strong. I was proud. I had earned the privilege of some sexual relief, I thought. At the same time, I dismissed it immediately. That was not my decision to make.

Sure enough, AR held the key to my cock in front of my face and wore a look of his own. He was about to let my meat swing free for the first time in 12 hours or more. Hell, I wasn’t even sure what time it was. Who fucking cares? I’m here. Now. An object. A toy to keep him entertained. At the moment, I was kicking ass too.

He unlocked my junk and a rope of precum came drooling out. He smiled. I knew he was getting me ready for a cumshot. I also knew that he wanted me to always be tough. To always earn that cum and never think that it was going to be easy. I asked him if he would put me in solitary to cum. I would quickly get my wish.

AR walked me down the hall and back to solitary where he strung my arms up to the walls as before, locking them in place. He left. I thought he was going to be right back, but he took a while. I realized that I didn’t care. Fuck it, Sir, take all the time you want. I’ll be right here. Right where my slave ass belongs. Dripping cum on the concrete in horny anticipation that I might be impressive enough for you. See you when you get back!

He did, and AR started stroking my cock. Slowly at first, then faster. At one point he started using this flesh light kind of toy. Those feel good at first, but they never work for me in the end. I want to feel the grip of a man’s hand around my meat reminding me who’s controlling me. Who possesses me. I asked him for his hand back. He took ahold of me and continued stroking. I moaned, I whined, I grunted. I swung as far back and forth as my captivity would allow. I was up on my toes and my legs began to shake. Tension built in my crotch. My ass felt so remarkably empty, but my cock was on fire with need. It was coming. I was about to shoot. I made damn well sure to ask AR if I could shoot. I was sure he’d tell me no. I was certain that he’d immediately drop my cock and walk away, closing the cage door and the iron door behind it, leaving my desperate body hanging, my perverted mind trapped inside of it.

AR told me to shoot. I couldn’t believe it. I was allowed relief. That meant that I earned it, though I certainly didn’t deserve it. I began an unintelligible diatribe of profuse thanks, complete with proclamations of how I’m a prison slave. Once again, I’ve never identified as a slave before but I felt so powerless and objectified that it was the only word that felt right.

Finally, it happened. My cock erupted as I shouted “I’M YOUR PRISON SLAAAAAAAvvveeee…..” which turned into an outright scream that gave way to panicked, exhausted, delirious moaning. My cock shot rope after rope of milky relief onto the concrete, the iron bars, my own boots, and who knows where else. It went everywhere, and there was plenty of it. I finally gave out and hung slack in my restraints. AR walked away to get some cleaning supplies. I hung, nearly unconscious, for a while as he collected some towels. When he came back, he took a few more pics and eventually released me from the wall. AR wasted no time in handing me the roll of paper towels and cleaning solution. He ordered me to clean up my mess. I got right to work.

Parole

AR took me out of my gear except for the collar. He showed me to the shower and must have been really impressed because he let me use the hot water. After I cleaned off, I was put back into my cell. There, my jock that I had packed was waiting for me on the now stripped bed. I got sad. I knew that meant that it was over. I was about to be released, and I didn’t want to be. I wanted to keep serving, but all good things have to come to an end.

We dressed, packed, and walked outside after he took the collar off of me. Again, a very disappointing moment, but it had to be. We drove to town where we had lunch. We shared some small talk on the way and over lunch, trying to find words for just what an exhilarating experience we had just shared. He finally drove me home where my husband was waiting for me. I hugged him and had a grin that wrapped around my entire head I’m sure. That afternoon, I went out and bought a collar and lock identical to that which AR had put on me. AR approved, and wants me wearing it as often as possible.

We have plans to go to Mr. S so that AR can pick out some gear that he has been wanting. He needs someone to test it on. Naturally, I volunteered willingly. He tells me how to dress sometimes, especially if we’re meeting, and wants my cock locked up as often as possible. Soon, AR will have a Google spreadsheet that he’ll have control over that I can only look at. It’s my charging sheet. AR is going to catalog every time I fuck something up. Each mistake will carry a number of strokes of the flogger. 20 strokes equals one hour in solitary, with a maximum of 4 hours since AR says that I “…can do time in solitary standing on my head.” He’s right. I’m not as tortured by it as I should be. I love all of it because it means one thing. If he’s keeping track of my fuck ups, that means that one of these days that arrest warrant is going to be served and I’m going back to jail. I can hardly wait to write about it.

 

The end

Metal would like to thank Prisoner805 for this story!

You can look him up on Recon.