By slavebladeboi

For a second night Nate sat up in bed and looked down at the cage that was very effectively stopping him playing with his cock. He had also spent the previous evening fiddling with it, playing his fingers around it, trying to get some sort of satisfaction from this new sensation.

After leaving Mike’s he had not been able to focus on anything for more than a few minutes at a time. Whatever he did or thought about, the cage once again slipped to the forefront of his mind and his hands wandered down to touch it. He certainly felt cross at first, cross that someone had taken his free will away, in as much as he thought his cock was absolutely his to play with whenever and however he liked, but this was diluted to a large extent by overwhelming feelings of pleasure and expectancy at what was to come.

That first night after his experience in Mike’s playroom he slept with belts securing his ankles and thighs and with his wrists handcuffed together in front of him. He thought it would help overcome the horniness he felt, but it only made it worse. His cock leaked precum and, the restrictive cage made erections uncomfortable if not a bit painful. He eventually fell asleep, but the morning brought little comfort. A cold shower helped, but the relief didn’t last for long. Sitting to piss was a new experience, one he initially refused to accept, but, having to clean up after splattering the bathroom floor with the overnight contents of his bladder, he decided it was for the best.

The day had been one of mixed emotions. He kept busy. There were chores to do inside the house plus things that needed to be taken care of around the yard. Mike’s lawn wasn’t the only one growing, and he’d promised his housemates he would not let things deteriorate in their absence. The afternoon provided time for a cycle ride, something Nate very much enjoyed on his very smart, lightweight racing bike. The bike kept him fit and allowed him some personal space now that his driving licence was suspended. The ride was fine for a time, but the cage! That fucking cage! Unless he was perched at the front of the saddle it moved slightly from side to side in time with his legs. This kept his attention on it and its contents. So, after a frustrating day, he went to bed early and sat there, one hand on the cage, the other gently playing over his left nipple.

Sleeping was easier that second night. Maybe the thought of being released and seeing Mike again, hopefully in the morning, eased his mind. Whatever factors were at play, the morning came quickly for Nate. He was barely conscious when he heard his phone ping with an incoming message. It was short and sweet.

Bathroom. Shorts. Trainers. Breakfast. Back door. Gym 8 30. Bring your cuffs. Instructions there.

He looked at his phone again. 7 35. He leapt out of bed. He presumed shorts and trainers meant exactly that and nothing else, so after a quick shower he pulled them on. Nate hardly had an appetite for breakfast, his gut was now churning nervously, but as he was instructed, so he obeyed. Cereal, milk, and a banana. Then he leapt up the stairs, went through the drawer next to his bed and pulled out the handcuffs, not forgetting the key, which wasn’t part of the instructions but which he felt safer doing. He was out of the door by 8:25 and crossed the street to Mike’s. The back door meant he had to go through Mike’s garage before he got to the stairs which led down to the basement gym. He looked at the shape under the dust sheets in a hopeful way, that bug had bitten him hard.

The gym was unoccupied. No sign of Mike. Nate looked around expectantly then saw a sheet of A4 on the bench. He read it through quickly then calmed down and went over it again:

Nate. You have to make a choice. I shall come down in a few minutes, so don’t think about it too long.

1 – Strip, shoes as well. Lock one side of your handcuffs to your right wrist. Leave the keys with this note. Go stand on the low box below the monkey bars facing the wall, reach up and lock the other cuff to the ring on the bar and wait. If I find you like that when I come down I’ll take it as your permission to go ahead with the day as I see fit.

2 – Keep your shorts and trainers on. Sit on the bench and wait. We’ll spend the morning working out together and then you can go home. Your choice. Either way it’s up to you.

The cage suddenly got tight. Without consciously giving it another thought, Nate tore off his shorts, pulled off his trainers and with shaky hands locked the cold steel cuff around his wrist, listening to the ratchet clicking into place. The wooden box he was to stand on was about six inches high and allowed him to reach the ring on the bars. Once locked on, he let out the breath he found he’d been holding for too long. No going back now.

Mike was watching Nate’s progress through his security system. He waited until Nate was under the bars then finished his coffee. It wouldn’t hurt to allow his boy some “nervous time.” After five minutes or so, which Nate felt was more like five months, Mike descended the stairs. He was in his running shorts and trainers, nothing else.

“Well done, boy. I’m pleased you made the choice you did. Don’t try and turn round, look straight ahead.”

Nate’s pulse quickened. He had no idea what was in store, then suddenly everything went black. Mike speedily pulled a canvas bag hood over Nate’s head and held him by his waist. Nate automatically struggled for breath. Still holding his waist, Mike clamped his other hand over Nate’s face. “Calm down, boy, and breathe normally.” He let his hand fall. “There’s plenty of air, just breathe normally.” He felt Nate slowly relax in his grasp as he began to run his hands down his boy’s sides, massaging the initial fear away. “Better. Much better. Keep like that.”

Mike purposely glanced at the cage. Nate’s junk was stubbornly trying to force its way out of the end, a good sign as far as Mike was concerned. Even if his brain was confused, Nate’s cock had come to its own interpretation of the situation. Mike leaned into Nate, his head near Nate’s shoulder. “You said you trusted me, Nate. Keep that thought. I’ve got you for the day now. I’ll push you, but I’ll not push you over the edge. Yell out ‘Red’ and everything stops, and I mean everything. No second chances. Think about that.” He continued to rub his hands over Nate’s shoulders as he spoke. A muffled voice came from under the hood.

“Yes, Sir.”

Mike stepped away and picked up two padded leather wrist restraints from the shelf on the opposite wall. He took Nate’s left arm and buckled one snugly around the boy’s wrist before reaching up to the bar and, using a small padlock, locked it to the bar’s second ring. Walking over to the bench, he picked up Nate’s key and returned to unlock the cuff with which Nate had secured himself to the bar. Once Nate’s arm was free Mike unlocked his wrist, replacing the cuff with another leather restraint which he padlocked to the other ring hanging from the bar. He held the boy with both hands and steadied him. He hugged him close for a second or two then, letting him go, said loudly, “Ready?”

“Sir!”

“OK then,” replied Mike. “Prepare for the ride, boy!” He stepped back and to the side of the box Nate was standing on, then, giving the box a swift, powerful kick, he pushed it aside. Nate dropped, his toes struggling to gain purchase on the floor. Mike heard him gasp and cry out in surprise, although he knew Nate could stand quite comfortably, or almost comfortably, in that position, as he had done a couple of days before. Mike watched and waited for Nate to start breathing normally again. He reached over to pick up the lengths of rope he had brough with him, knelt down, and tied several loops around Nate’s right ankle, feeding the other ends around the post, which held the bars up at that end. Repeating the same with Nate’s left ankle to the other post, he then pulled them until Nate’s legs were as far apart as they could be with him still balancing on his toes and tied them off.

Nate was about three feet away from the wall he was facing, which left just about enough room for Mike to slip round the post and kneel in front of him. He held Nate’s balls in his hand and rolled them around, squeezing slightly at first, gradually getting firmer. More groans from above showed how much Nate was enjoying, the cock cage getting increasingly wet as Nate dripped precum from it. Feeling for the key in his shorts, Mike carefully unlocked the cage. He manipulated the balls he was holding and pushed them back through the ring. More groans and deep breathing from beneath the hood. He slowly pulled the cage off Nate’s cock, infuriatingly slowly for Nate if his twitching and “hmmphing” was anything to go by. Once Nate’s cock was free it sprang up, spraying droplets of precum onto Mike’s face and further past him onto the wall.

“Better, boy?” Mike asked, looking up and wiping his fingers across the strands that had sprayed him.

“MMMMMmmm, Sir,” was the answer which Mike translated as approval. Mike stood up and started to repeat what he did to Nate earlier that week. One finger played with Nate’s nipple, his other hand gently stroked around and along his erection, now shiny with the excess liquid Mike was using as lube. After a few minutes Mike stopped and reached up to the canvas hood. He held both cords and slowly pulled them until the hood was tighter around Nate’s neck.

“Slow down, boy, don’t panic.” He reassured Nate that the hood would allow him to breathe normally, but gulping in air would cause the hood to collapse onto his face. He held it away from Nate’s face, slightly letting go when Nate recovered. “That’s good,” Mike told him, moving away. He knew Nate would be getting warmer inside the hood which now was acting slightly more like a rebreather, but he also knew it would enhance Nate’s experience. He made sure Nate was calm, then went upstairs.

Mike returned with a box in which he’d collected items he needed for the next couple of hours, laying them out on the floor in the centre of the room. He looked round at Nate hanging from the bars, hoping, no, more likely sure, that he would grow with the experiences he would be put through during the day. He picked up a pair of clover clamps. They were not as fierce as some he had but would nevertheless give a good pinch, and Mike knew now how sensitive Nate’s nipples were. He stood in front of Nate and fondled his left nub, rubbing it around between his thumb and forefinger. Nate’s happy sounds were abruptly cut short by the sudden sharp sting of the clamp as it dug into his flesh. A sudden intake of breath collapsed the bag, which was followed frantically by Nate shaking his head from side to side so Mike just pulled the bag away from his face again. This time he remained silent until Nate had calmed down. He repeated his actions with Nate’s right nipple. Nate pushed through this time without the panic, keeping his breathing level but still moaning somewhat at the pain he was in. Mike tugged at his boy’s cock. “Pleasure and pain, boy,” he reminded Nate.

Mike allowed the clover clamps to do their work, as Nate felt the sting subside to a deeper but less sharp pain, before Mike reached down and grabbed Nate’s balls. He pulled them down with his fingers wrapped around the sack, gently massaging them until they hung low enough for him to slip a parachute stretcher around them, fixing it comfortably tight. What was going on in Nate’s head Mike couldn’t imagine. He was reasonably sure from what they had discussed that Nate would be familiar with these bondage items, but he doubted if he’d ever tried them on before. Well, there’s always a first time, he thought.  Next, he brought a small weight out of the box and hooked it onto the chain hanging below the parachute. Only eight ounces, but he would add to that in time. Another gasp from inside the bag, the bag collapsed again but not fully, and Mike saw it regain shape as Nate breathed out. He momentarily stuck his finger under the cord, which allowed a brief uninterrupted flow of fresh air, just to give Nate the sense of being safe still.

“You’re doing well, boy, but we’ve only just started,” Mike said. He started to swing the ball weight, gradually making the arc larger, swinging it back and forth with more momentum until Nate was desperately trying to bend his knees to ease the discomfort but powerless to stop it. Mike gathered up some more rope and started tying loops round Nate’s thighs, pulling them up and out toward the posts on either side, through an eye bolt and back to his upper arms, drawing it tight enough to make his boy incapable of anything more than a very slight movement. He stood back, admiring the sight.

Earlier in their discussions they had touched on the subject of corporal punishment. Mike remembered Nate saying he thought he could take a decent strapping, although not sounding too enthusiastic about it. So he thought he’d test him in a more gentle way. Gentle by his standards anyway. He picked up a steel pinwheel and, starting at Nate’s shoulders, ran it carefully down the centre of his spine. Nate shuddered and let out an almost inaudible howl of enjoyment. Mike pressed on, slightly harder. Round the top of Nate’s ass cheek, back up his side to his armpit where the shuddering grew stronger and the howling louder, he then returned down the other side of the boy’s now lightly perspiring torso. The canvas hood was getting quite animated, being drawn in by the deep breaths Nate was having to take. A few more turns of his back, then Mike leant round and did the same to Nate’s abs. Up his chest, around the tit clamps, that brought a squeal, and down to the root of his cock.

“Please Sir, please…” came from under the hood, but nothing more except some panting. Mike held still. Nate seemed to hold his breath. Mike continued around Nate’s groin, the pinwheel leaving faint red marks as the spikes pressed into the flesh, and up the underside of Nate’s leaking erect meat. Mike very, very lightly went over Nate’s cock head, sensing him hold his breath and freeze at this.

Nate seemed to be enjoying, so Mike thought it time to make him work a bit harder for his pleasure. Dropping the pinwheel back in the box, he experimented. Remembering the noise he heard when the pin wheel went into Nate’s armpit, he simply started to tickle Nate under the arms. This hadn’t come up in any conversations they had had, so for Mike it was a gamble. The reaction showed it was paying off. Nate convulsed as far as the ropes would allow, about an inch in any direction, and immediately struggled for breath. Mike held off for a few seconds then assaulted Nate’s pits again followed by his sides and down behind his knees. Nate was yelling incomprehensibly, gasping, straining the ropes, sweating heavily and finally crying out, pleading for mercy in staccato half words every time he sucked in a half lungful of air before the hood cut him off. Mike stopped. He was laughing and sweating nearly as much as his prisoner. Time for a break.

He loosened the cord and pulled the hood off Nate’s head. Nate’s face was bright red and wet with sweat. His hair was matted and dripping small rivulets of perspiration down over his forehead. He gradually opened his eyes and gave Mike a huge grin. “Drink?” asked Mike.

“Please, Sir,” croaked Nate, “that would be wonderful.” Mike thought about it for a second then told Nate to take a deep breath. He quickly unclipped Nate’s nipples, at which point “FUCK!!” echoed round the gym as Nate performed a very limited dance routine. Mike stood still for a moment holding the clover clamps in his hands. He continued to gaze straight at Nate, who gave him a questioning look.

“I think ‘thank you, Sir’ would have been more polite,” said Mike, looking serious. Nate opened his mouth and started to stutter unformulated words, but Mike stopped him, putting his finger over Nate’s lips. “But you need to learn, so I’ll leave you for a bit to think about your manners.” He picked up another weight, the same as the first, and hung this onto the parachute. Nate clamped his mouth shut and simply “mmmmphed” in his throat.

“Better,” said Mike, turning and leaving the room. “See you in a while, boy.”

Nate stared at the wall in front of him. His balls made it known they were not used to being weighted, even though it was only sixteen ounces. Questions flooded his mind. What had he done wrong? What had he got himself into, did he really want this? How were things going to pan out? He was safe with Mike, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he? What if… oh no. That didn’t bear thinking about. Someone would have seen him cross the road this morning, surely. Wouldn’t they?

Pull yourself together, Nate.

He looked down and saw his cock was now below half-mast. What had Mike said? Manners? Maybe he didn’t like me cussing. Maybe it was … Nate was so full of these thoughts that he didn’t hear Mike return and jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Mike held the insulated bottle up to Nate’s lips. “Drink slowly, boy,” he advised as he tipped the liquid into Nate’s open mouth, “it’s just some of my homemade again.”

Nate slurped a bit, and some went down his chin, but overall he swallowed enough to quench his thirst. Mike stood to the side. “Please, Sir,” started Nate, “I want to apologise for swearing like that.”

“Absolutely no need, boy,” said Mike, still looking serious. “In the circumstances I’d have done the same. You can swear, yell and scream all you want down here. No one is going to hear you except me, and your cries tell me a lot about how well things are going.”

Nate looked puzzled. “But…”

“No,” interrupted Mike, “My concern is that you didn’t thank me for releasing your nipple clamps. I could have left them on but preferred to give you some relief. It’s something you need to learn and remember.”

“I understand, Sir,” said Nate, hanging his head, “I know I have a lot to learn.”

“Don’t be downhearted, boy. I shall enjoy punishing you and it will also help you to remember next time.”

Nate looked up.

“Oh yes, boy,” Mike continued, “this isn’t all about pleasure, well, not for you anyway. Now, stand still while I start to untie you. You’ll probably be a bit stiff at first,” said as he knocked Nate’s new semi erection with the back of his hand, grinning, “so move slowly.”

Mike untied the ropes between Nate’s arms and thighs, allowing him to stand in a slightly more comfortable position. He then released his ankles. “Move your legs together, boy, and hold your arms as high as you can so I can undo these padlocks.” Nate gave a deep sigh as he moved his legs together. Mike undid the left wrist and held Nate’s arm as he lowered it. Nate grimaced but made no sound. The right arm felt the same, stiff and sore, but again he kept his mouth shut. Mike took a couple of steps back. Nate was about to step away from under the bar when he remembered. Just in time by the look on Mike’s face.

“Thank you, Sir, for releasing me. I’m grateful for the experience you gave me.”

“Good, boy. But now, don’t think you have to keep on saying thank you. Let’s keep this real. You can thank me when you think it’s necessary, when you’re being helped or released from a bondage position, you know, just good manners. Don’t say it when you don’t mean it. Now, turn round, hands behind your back.” To Nate’s surprise, Mike slapped the handcuffs round his wrists. “I want you in the playroom next and not a word from you on the way.”

Nate looked down at his balls. “Pleas….”

“No, boy, that stays on, now move.”

Nate walked awkwardly, trying to keep the parachute from swinging too much and also trying to keep his legs apart enough so they didn’t knock it. Eventually, two rather slow flights of stairs later, he entered the playroom, the door of which was wide open in readiness.

“Stand in front of the fuck bench, boy,” Mike ordered.  He walked behind Nate and buckled a leather collar around his neck. “Now boy, kneel up on the padded side ledges, head down over the front.” Nate followed the instructions. He felt his now hard cock knock against the edge of the bench as he shifted his body into position. Mike stepped round to Nate’s head and passed a cord through the ring on the front of the collar, which he pulled down and tied off. Nate was now lying on the padded top of the bench, face down and unable to move from there. Some swift moves by Mike meant Nate’s legs were strapped to the sides of the bench, making him totally immobile. Or almost. To finish his preparations Mike took another length of cord and tied it to the hanging ball weights. He gave them a gentle pull, enough to make sure Nate felt it but not enough to send those waves of pain through his gut, then tied the end to the bottom of the bench legs. Wrapping his hand round Nate’s cock, he manoeuvred it so it faced down and was hard up against the wooden end of the bench. He crossed the room and shut the door. He then put a padlock thought the hasp and dropped the key into his shorts pocket.

Standing in front of Nate’s head, he waved a riding crop where Nate could see it. “I’m going to give you ten strokes on your ass, boy. It won’t be gentle, it’s a punishment. I have made this room nearly as soundproof as the gym so you can yell if you want to. Or, if you would rather have a gag, say now.”

The thought of a gag, yet another piece of bondage gear, raced across Nate’s mind as a definite positive. “Please, Sir, I would appreciate a gag,” he managed to say even though his face was being pulled down tightly. Mike went to the wall rack and selected a leather penis gag. ‘Might put some thoughts in his head,’ he mused as he took it back to the prone boy. “Open! Wider!” Mike ordered as he inserted the gag, made sure it was firmly in place and buckled it tightly.

Nate started to drool almost immediately. He was able to control his gag reflex. This wasn’t the biggest gag Mike had by any means, and he waited.

To be continued …