By AlphaMetal

“Are you ready to go to the next level, boy?”

That was the question Sir asked me as I sat on the floor recovering from a flogging. It was a harsh flogging as usual.

Before I could respond he said, “Don’t answer now. I don’t want your answer while you are still feeling tough from that flogging, and warm in its glow.”

I just nodded.

“Stand up, boy,” Sir said.

I stood up and faced him.

“Turn around, boy. Hands behind your back.”

I turned around, put my hands behind my back, and spread my legs just enough to show I was submitting.

Sir expertly clicked the handcuffs on my wrists and double-locked them and said: “Over to the column, boy.”

There is a steel support column in the middle of Sir’s basement dungeon and I have been cuffed to that pole before, so I knew what to do; I sat on the concrete floor with my back to the pole and Sir used a padlock to attach the chain of my handcuffs to a chain wrapped around the base of the pole. Sir put a water bottle to my lips and gave me a long drink of water and walked away, leaving me sitting sitting on the cold floor with my hands cuffed behind me, still naked from the flogging.

I was there for hours. As time passed I felt the pain from the flogging fade, but then I began to feel discomfort, and then pain, from the restraint; having my hands behind my back was beginning to cause my shoulders to ache and my ass was beginning to hurt from being on that hard concrete floor. I shifted around as best I could, which wasn’t a lot, and that made me feel better a little, but not a lot.

I found myself passing into a period of boredom. The ache in my shoulders had just became a part of me and I didn’t really feel it any more, like a smell you are so used to that you no longer smell it.

I was just bored. And my mind wandered in and out. And then I started to think of his question. “Are you ready to go to the next level, boy?”

And I knew why Sir had chained me to this pole to think about his question before answering. After a few hours sitting on the floor I was no longer feeling cocky and masculine the way I feel right after a flogging ends, when I am so proud of my toughness, and I was no longer feeling that warm rush — endorphins? — that flood my body. And most of all I didn’t have Sir standing over me, so I didn’t have to think about whether I would disappoint him if I said “No” or “I’m not sure.”

After a few hours here in the basement I was free to think about his question honestly, and not when I was feeling tough; not when I was feeling turned on; not when I wanted to make him proud.

Sir chained me to this pole so I would have the freedom to be honest with myself. And so I sat there, chained and naked, and thought about his question.

By most people’s standards our play over the past few years had already been pretty extreme. Sir liked to see how tough I am and he sometimes flogged me just as a test of my strength. And on those very few occasions when I really did deserve punishment the flogging was especially intense; there was no “warm up” just a hard first stroke followed by more hard strokes and then more and more and there was no kindness or support when it was over; Sir would just leave me restrained to the flogging cross and walk away.

So with everything we had done over the years since we met, “the next level,” whatever it was, would have to be something pretty serious.

I sat there on the floor and thought about his question. I thought about it a lot. Just as he wanted me to.

A few hours later Sir came back to the basement and looked down at me, deep into my eyes.

I looked back into his eyes and said simply, “Yes, Sir.”

***

Almost two weeks later it was time for “the next level.”

Why had Sir waited so long? Was he giving me even more time to think about my answer? Was he giving me a chance to back out? He certainly never offered that in so many words, but maybe that is what the two week delay had been for. But now the day was here.

“It’s time to go, boy. Get dressed.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said.

I was still in my shorts and shirt from the gym so I slipped off all my gym clothes, pulled on a jock, put on pair of jeans and a tight gray t-shirt, pulled on a pair of socks, and put on my black speed-lace combat boots.

“Go to the bathroom and piss,” Sir said.

“I didn’t really need to,” I said.

“GO PISS, boy,” Sir said.

“Yes, Sir.”

After a piss in the bathroom we got into Sir’s truck and he started driving, and before long I realized we were heading to a large leather store where we knew the owner well. The store was closed but Sir rang the bell and the door was opened.

I had assumed the session would be just me and Sir but when we walked in I saw about 15 men there, including several I recognized. I was surprised to see all those men but I didn’t look at them other than a quick glance and I knew enough not to say anything.

I suspected some of them would be happy to see me take whatever was going to happen because it would probably involve me removing at least some of my clothes. I am good-looking jock and I had seen some of those men look at me before, smile at me, and even flirt, and it didn’t bother me if they wanted to look at my body.

Sir pointed to the center of the room where a large metal ring was sunk in the cement floor, with a chain hanging from the ceiling directly above the ring. I walked over and stood there; the end of the chain was about two feet over my head.

I stood there facing Sir, not making eye contact with anyone, just looking straight ahead as I had been trained.

“Look at me,” Sir said. And so I looked deeply into his eyes.

He looked at me lovingly. “Are you ready, son?” he asked.

The word “son” caught me off guard. He never called me son. He always called me “boy.”

Maybe calling me “son” was his way of making me feel protected, reminding me that I was safe. But I also wondered if he used that word to let me know that “Are you ready, son?” really WAS a question, and that I was free to say no.

I thought to myself, “Damn. If he needs to check with me AGAIN, maybe I have gotten myself into something I will regret.”

“Are you ready, son?”

I looked deeply into Sir’s eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“You’ll be OK, son,” he said.

Which just scared me even more.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied.

I knew from this point there would be no more questions, only orders. And that I was no longer “son” but boy.

“STRIP, boy.”

I pulled off my shirt, bent over to remove the boots, and slipped off my jeans, socks, and the jock. I stood naked and faced Sir and looked straight ahead, ignoring the small crowd of men, whom I assumed were looking at my body.

“Put your arms out, boy.”

I held my arms straight in front of me.

Sir looked to the crowd of men and said, “Colton, come over and attach the restraints.”

Colton was about my age, a jock with great arms and a patch of dark hair between his pecs that always drives me wild when I see him in the shower at the gym. I knew he was into the same things as me, and that he had a Master who must have brought him here.

Colton came up holding two leather suspension restraints, the kind you can be hoisted with because they pull parallel to your arms. I stood there motionless as he attached them, buckled the four straps on each restraint, and then put small padlocks into the buckles around my wrists and clicked them closed.

Sir really wanted me restrained tight for whatever was going to happen.

Colton got down behind me and I felt him put leather restraints around each ankle and lock them with small padlocks.

“Feet on either side of the metal ring, boy.”

Colton was still behind me and I felt him press the outside of my ankles to indicate that I should put my feet tight against each other, which I did. I heard a click that I knew it was a padlock attaching my ankles to each other and to the bolt in the floor.

Without being told — I guess this must have been arranged in advance — Colton moved in front of me, pulled my arms up as high as they would stretch, which was easy because he is a lot taller than I am, and he padlocked my wrists to the chain.

My arms were stretched high above my head and my feet were locked flat against the concrete floor. There was no slack in my body. I was restrained tightly in a standing position with no ability to move.

Sir didn’t want me moving around for whatever this was, it seemed.

Then Colton started buckling leather belts around my legs; one around my thighs, one around my knees, and another around my ankles, just above the ankle restraints. It reminded me of the way they used to restrain the legs of a prisoner being hanged on a gallows.

I heard Sir say, “Master Kevin, are you ready?”

Huh? What?? I didn’t understand.

I knew who Master Kevin was from around town but I didn’t know him at all. I knew he was a pretty serious player, and that has been a Leatherman for a long time, but otherwise he was a stranger. What was happening?

Master Kevin walked up to Sir and stood next to him, in front of me. He was holding a very thin black cane. He held it up and let me look at it for a long moment. He walked up to me and put the cane against my lips; he nodded and I knew he meant I should open my mouth, and he put the cane in my mouth like a bit.

“Lick it with your tongue, boy,” he said. “Bite it with your teeth.” I did. And I realized why he had put it in my mouth: he wanted me to feel how hard and strong it was. This was not something that would break. This was his way of telling me, “You will break before this does.”

And it all came together. I would be feeling this cane. And it would be administered not by my Sir, whose strokes I could anticipate, and who might hold back out of sympathy or love, but by a stranger who didn’t know me, who didn’t love me, and wouldn’t care if I screamed, cried or stayed silent. He was brought here to do a job and he was going to do it.

If I had not gone to the bathroom before we left the house my piss would have flowed out of me right then onto the floor.

“Colton,” I heard Sir say.

Colton came over and pulled a leather hood over my head. It blacked out my eyes completely but had a large opening so my nose and mouth were unobstructed. I felt Colton lace the hood behind my head and then I felt his hands run gently over my shoulders, down my back, and over my ass. Not sexually, not like he was groping me, but to comfort me. I couldn’t see anything because of the hood but I knew Colton’s hands were beautiful; I had seen him lifting at the gym and I loved looking at his strong hands with those long fingers curled around a barbell as he pushed it over his chest. Now those hands and those long fingers were moving around my body as Colton stood behind me, moving up from my ass, up my sides, and around to my front, over my abs and up to my chest. He laid his hands flat on my pecs and pressed his body gently into my back from behind. It was like a hug. He was comforting me. I couldn’t help being turned on. Colton had never touched me before, but I knew he was comforting me for a reason. I couldn’t believe what I had gotten myself into.

Colton touched my back one more time with his large hand and then I could sense him backing away.

Several minutes passed. Nothing happened. My mind was racing.

I felt a rough hand, clearly not Colton’s, placed flat on my cock and balls. The hand didn’t move for a moment. I was scared, and I don’t know why I started to get hard, but I did, and the rough hand curled around my hardening cock. It didn’t stroke me, it just held my cock. Then the hand let go. Moments passed. I waited. I was breathing heavily. My mind started racing.

And then… SNAP. I felt the cane hit my ass. It was a sharp sting that lasted a moment.

SNAP. Another stroke. On exactly the same place. More stinging this time. And it lasted a bit longer.

SNAP. Another stroke on exactly the same spot. This guy’s aim was good.

SNAP. Again. On the same fucking spot. I was angry at him for that. It hurt. A lot. And I began to breathe heavily. I became very aware of the restraints on my wrists and ankles that prevented me from avoiding his cane. I was thinking about the restraints when…

SNAP. That same fucking spot. The stinging was now a burning. I tried to wriggle a little for relief but I was firmly restrained straight up and down, without enough slack in my body to move very much.

I thought about trying to move a little at just the right moment so he wouldn’t hit the same spot again, but with the thick leather hood over my ears I couldn’t hear the whistling of the cane. And I was afraid if wriggled and disrupted his aim this stranger might get so furious he would just go all mental and start hurting me wildly. What was happening was bad enough. If I made him angry, who knows what he would do.

SNAP. The same fucking spot.

Now it was not just that spot that was on fire, but my whole midsection.

I started to wonder, has he broken the skin? Is there blood running down my….

SNAP. Before I could finish my thought or try to sense if there was blood running down my leg he caned me again.

Now I was having trouble focusing. I was beginning to feel queasy.

SNAP. The pain was now in my whole body. My whole body hurt.

SNAP. I was having trouble breathing. Or was I breathing too hard? Something was weird about my breathing but I couldn’t tell what because I couldn’t focus on anything. My mind was going gray.

SNAP. My whole body was on fire. I couldn’t feel one part of my body separate from the rest.

SNAP. All I could feel clearly were the restraints on my wrists and ankles. Every other part of my body was all one thing, all one blur.

Then I felt myself breathing again. Hard, but normally. The caning had stopped. Or it had paused, anyway.

The pause continued.

I was able to focus again. Not fully, but a little. I was able to breathe more steadily. I could feel other parts of my body again. I wiggled my toes and I could feel the hard concrete floor. It was a sensation other than pain! I could feel something other than pain! And then the pain began to fade. A little, anyway.

The pause continued. Was it over? Would I feel Sir’s hands on me?

What was happening?

Where was Sir? Was he admiring me? Was he proud of me?

I remembered the men in the room. Were they looking at me?

Were any of them jacking off?

Where was Colton? Was he turned on by what I had just taken? Did it make him respect me more? Would he look at my differently now? Would it make him want me? Maybe he would ask Sir’s permission and I would find myself in a sling with those large hands running over my body and his cock deep in my hole.

Maybe I was about to be released and I would be expected to get on my knees and thank Sir with my mouth for the training.

The more time that passed the more I started having all sorts of thoughts. The pain in my ass had faded enough that I was able to feel the pain in my arms and shoulders from the restraint position.

More time passed.

What was happening?

Was I going to be released?

Then….

SNAP. Fire ran through my body.

But this stroke wasn’t on my ass. It was on my calves. The cane was hitting the back of my calves. Both calves at the same time. So that’s what the leather belts were for, to hold my legs next to each other for this.

SNAP. The sting was instant and deep.

SNAP. The same spot.

SNAP. The same fucking spot.

SNAP. That same spot again. Each time that same fucking spot.

SNAP. My calves were on fire.

SNAP. The pain spread up and down my legs like molten lava.

SNAP. My head was getting fuzzy.

My breathing was weird again. Was it that I couldn’t breathe? Was it that I couldn’t catch my breath between strokes? Or was I breathing TOO hard? I couldn’t really tell.

SNAP. I am getting queasy again. I think I am in a cold sweat. But I’m not sure.

SNAP. I am fading in and out.

SNAP. My whole body is pain. I don’t even feel the spot he is hitting anymore because my whole body is on fire.

The pain is too intense.

SNAP. My mind is going gray. I am going to pass out.

The pain is too much.

SNAP. I can’t focus. I don’t know where I am. My mind is just gray.

SNAP. I am nowhere. I am suspended in space. The only thing I am aware of are the restraints on my wrists and ankles.

SNAP. I feel the restraints. My whole world is nothing but these restraints.

SNAP. There is nothing else but these restraints.

Everything is gray. Except the restraints.

I can feel the restraints. I am aware of the restraints. Nothing else.

I am going to pass out.

I am queasy.

I can’t think.

I can’t focus.

I am floating.

I think time has passed but I am not sure.

I am floating.

My body is burning… but it now feels… good. Like after a hard run.

Wait, I just breathed.

I realize I just took a breath.

I can feel myself breathing.

My body feels warm.

I know I am breathing steadily.

The grayness is opening up.

I am in a room.

I am in the leather store.

My legs hurt.

My calves hurt.

My ass hurts.

My arms are extended above my head and they hurt.

But I can feel them. I can feel my legs and my ass and my shoulders. I am aware of something other than the restraints.

I feel sweat under my feet. The bottoms of my feet are wet and sweaty. And I can feel it.

I am in a hood.

I am in darkness because I am in a hood.

I realize that I haven’t been hit in a long time.

I am breathing again.

I feel warm all over, but in a good way.

I am floating, but in a wonderful way.

I am in a warm bath.

I feel strong arms around me. Someone is holding me

I recognize the arms, the hands, the smell. Sir is holding me.

I feel fingers at the back of my head unlacing my hood. I remember Colton.

The hood is lifted off my head.

I keep my eyes closed.

I feel Sir’s lips on mine.

I feel wonderful.

I feel absolutely wonderful.

I slowly open my eyes against the light.

I see Sir, Master Kevin, and Colton standing in front of me. They are all smiling with pride. Sir hugs me and kisses me deeply, his tongue deep in my mouth.

Master Kevin hugs me proudly. He kisses me on the lips but does not put his tongue in my mouth. We look into each other’s eyes and I know we now have a connection that will last forever.

Colton hugs me supportively. It’s not sexual but has the promise of intimacy.

My relationship with these men has changed forever, and I feel differently about myself as well.

This is the next level Sir was talking about.

The end

Metal would like to thank the author, AlphaMetal, for this story which is copyright © 2020 by AlphaMetal@protonmail.com and is used here with permission. You can contact the author directly at AlphaMetal@Protonmail.com or find him on Recon under screen name AlphaMetal.