By convict 975468

GREG

Right from the start I seemed to notice the look that Dave had when he won the toss.  He looked like he would have preferred to lose.  So I decided to test it – I wanted to see if that look was real.  Two or three times I told him that the coin said heads, when it was actually tails.  Yep, there was that disappointment that he tried to hide.  I have to admit, the more I was a slave the less I enjoyed it, no matter what the rules were.  So I was disappointed too.  But it would be interesting to see how real this could get for Dave, or slave dave, as I was starting to think of him.

I was looking for ideas, and I even went online and discussed it with a couple of guys I’d been following, such as Toolman, who seemed to know a lot about the subject.  He gave me some pointers.  While chatting, I got an enormous hardon.  So at least I knew where my interests lay.

After I thought about it for a while, I decided to get Dave to agree that the master could change the rules.  If he liked it so, maybe he needed slavery full time.  He turned out to like it so much that he suggested that business about the contract!

Of course I let him win that first time.  I began to worry that I’d made a mistake, when he made me go six weeks without a toss for control.  Then I lost the throw for real!  He kept me as his slave for another two weeks.

Naturally, I was bored and annoyed, being a slave again, but I had to remember the contract.  And I kept wondering whether I’d been reading the situation right.  But the big thing was what Toolman had told me.  He said that the guys he called “natural born slaves” often try to disguise who they are, even from themselves.  So whenever they’ve got the upper hand, they act like masters in some exaggerated way.  That confirmed my suspicions, and it certainly made those weeks of slavery easier to bear.

I decided to make my move.  After the two weeks, I won the toss, and I changed the rule to make the slave win once for equality, and then have to win again to be master.  He could never seem to win both times, so he spent three months in slavery.  He pretended to be disappointed in the toss, but he seemed resigned to being my slave.  More than resigned – –  How should I put it?   It was like he was definitely welcoming his chance to learn about how to be a slave.  The more chores I gave him, the more interested he was.  He kept everything spotless, jumped at my orders, and never hesitated to service me sexually.

While slave dave was shining the floor or doing one of those other slave things, I was online with Toolman.  He said there were slaves and there were masters, and I was obviously a master, whereas slave dave was obviously, well, a slave.  He said it would be cruel to both of us not to make our roles permanent.  He said, “This slave is beggin for it.  Why keep the boy waiting?”

I thought about that and made some plans.  But at the next roll of the dice–the fucker won!

Now I was a slave again, and I would have to get past the roadblock I had set for him before I regained my own power.  This clearly wasn’t a good thing for either of us, and he seemed to know it, because he refused to state the length of my enslavement.  He said he was thinking it over.

Soon after that, he made life more confused by starting a remodeling project in the basement.  We’d talked about it for a long time – finishing the basement off and making some kind of home entertainment center or man cave or something, but what with the slavery thing and so forth, we’d never actually done it.  But now, apparently, he was wandering aimlessly, not sure of what he was—or just not knowing how to be a master.  So workmen suddenly showed up at the side door every morning and banged around all day downstairs, while I was locked in the rest of the house and forbidden to go out.  I had to wait to do my daily scrub of the driveway until it was dark and I could barely see what I was doing.  When I asked about the project – “Master, may this slave ask how the remodeling is going?” –  Dave said it was none of my business.  While I was thinking:  Even though I’m paying for half of it!

A couple days after the workmen left, a package came and I was ordered to carry it into the house.  It was pretty heavy, and it clanked.  Dave told me to open it.  Inside was a set of serious restraints.  Included were cuffs for the ankles and wrists with heavy duty chains between them.  There were tamper proof locks to go with all of it.  In a separate box was a chastity device.

“Ok, suit up boy,” Dave said.

“Ok,” I thought, “I know why he bought this stuff.  It’s obvious.  He’s testing it out to see how it’ll work on him, next time I’m the master.”

It looked good to me.  Good enough to be permanent on him, as soon as my turn came.  So I put it on.  It was all high quality, the wrist and ankle cuffs properly padded for long-term use.  He locked them on.  “Let’s see how you can get around in those, boy.”

I shuffled around the room, finding it difficult to walk as the chain was only about 15 inches between the ankles.  The wrist cuffs had a pretty short chain between them, but it would be long enough to allow a slave to do household chores, cooking and serving meals, and servicing a master’s dick.

Then he put the chastity cage on me.  It was one with a tube for my cock.  It was adjustable and he shortened it to less than my cock was when hard.  I realized that there was not going to be much for me to look forward to—except, of course, for the next time I was master.  As soon as he had me fitted up, he reminded me that dinner was at 5, and I’d better get cracking.  I shuffled off to the kitchen, spending my time learning how to keep my chastity gear from banging against the cabinets and tables.

Living and working in restraints is not easy!  But I had to suck it up and get on with doing my work.  The cane helped me keep up to speed.

I could tell that Dave was nervous and expectant–looking forward to the next big switch.  And it turned out that more was coming.  A few days after the restraints arrived, another package was delivered.  The first item that he removed was a five inch posture collar – with a battery pack on the side. I had to hand it to him: I’d never thought of that.   He locked it on my neck and suddenly I could not move my head in any direction.  There was only one way to look, and that was at him.  My chin was pushed up uncomfortably; I would always be standing at attention.

“This baby is going to make your life very interesting, boy.  If you make the least sound – you will get shocked.  The louder the sound – the stronger the shock.  Let me demonstrate.”

He pressed a button on the remote.  Immediately I received an uncomfortable shock, and gasped. My gasp triggered a rather painful shock, causing me to yell, and triggering an even stronger shock.  I don’t know how many times I was shocked before I regained control of myself and was quiet.

“You will remain totally silent unless I give you permission to speak,” he said.  It wasn’t a command; it was more like an observation.  A statement of fact.  “I hope for your sake you don’t start snoring!” he added.  “Anyway, with this I can summon you or punish you.”

It was an interesting experiment, but sort of over the top.  I would have liked to know when it was going to end, but I couldn’t ask a question; I was too afraid of the pain.  Dave, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying himself in a way that Toolman hadn’t predicted.  From his morning suckoff to his evening drill up my ass, he seemed to be doing exactly what he wanted.  I was slower in service now, because of my restraints, but he said he was entertained by my “antics.”

My own life had become a nightmare.  I did find myself snoring, and when I did, I awoke in pain.  With the collar on I had to turn my body to see to the left or right, and bend at the waist to see down.  Every action became more difficult.  My neck began to cramp from having my chin raised unnaturally, although in time that passed.  From time to time Dave nodded at me, apparently appreciating my good posture.  He still had given no indication when I might again have a shot at freedom.

One night, about a month after the electronic toys arrived, he’d completed his fuck and I was preparing to lie on my blanket at the foot of his bed.  Then he said, “Let’s go,” and walked to the basement door, which he unlocked.  “Down you go boy!”

It was really hard getting down the steps with the short chain between my feet.  I went slowly, holding the rail with one shackled hand.

When we got to the bottom he said, “The shock collar is disabled for now, boy.  Speak if you want.  And move to the right.”

I turned and then I saw it in the far corner.  Steel bars had been installed creating a cell—fully equipped, just like in a prison.  There was a steel bunk and one of those commodes without a seat or anything, and a small washbasin in the back.  On the bunk was a thin plastic mattress with a blanket folded at the foot.

“In you go, smartass.”

“What’s this?”

“Your new home, slave.  I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

“Whhat?!”

“I decided that I’m tired of playing games.  And I’m tired of spending my life holed up in this place.  Nobody wants to come after us anymore.  Practically nobody even remembers that we exist.  You, anyway.  So from now on, I’m gonna be doing a lot of traveling.  Starting tomorrow.”

“But what about . . .  ”

“You’re wondering how you can live if I’m not around.  No problem.  You’ve got water, and there’s survival food under the bunk.  Whenever I’m here, you’ll have the privilege of servicing me as usual – except that I will demand a higher standard of service.   And when I’m not here, I’m still in control.  I’ve got all I need to operate the lights and the cams and that collar you have on.”

There was a plastic object in his hand, and he pressed it.  Pain ripped through my body. “Yup,” he said.  “Game over. This is lifetime slavery for you.”

“Wwhy?!”

“You fucked up boy – you left that chat window open.  I read how you told that Toolman guy that you were planning to enslave me for good.  Not give me a chance, ever again.  Great plan, but now it’s you that is royally fucked.  Now get in that cage.”

Dave pushed me through the door and I stumbled and fell beside the bunk.  He slammed the door with a clang.  Then he locked the door and went up the steps.  As he went, he turned off the light.

THE END?

Metal would like to thank the author, convict 975468, for this story! And thanks to Joshua Ryan for inspiring it!