(A True Potential Story)

Written by BootDeputy

It was less than a week before the brand on Logan`s ass was healed enough to allow for more functional movement. When Daddy Kyle branded him, He made sure to do it on the far outer side of his ass so Master Dallas was still able to fuck his hole, and he did daily.

But it seemed that Logan’s time as Tread the barn animal was done. On the night that the brand seemed to be healing without infection, Logan was on his knees worshiping Master Dallas’ dick. His spurs dug into Logan’s back as he smoked on the porch of his ranch house.

He had already unloaded in Logan’s mouth and was watching him clean off his cock. He got an email from Officer Rick yesterday detailing Logan’s next step in his year of training, which was with two doms that needed a new object to train. They had sent a package containing things for Logan to have on when they arrived. They were probably on the road, if not a hotel, right now coming from Delaware.

He couldn’t delay it any longer, “Tonight is your last night with me. Tomorrow evening you will be picked up by two men from our family.”

Logan considered pulling back from Master Dallas’ cock to ask questions but as of right now he was still under his control and kept worshiping it.

“It’s going to be a long trip to their place. I don’t know how long you will be with them and at their request I can’t disclose any information about them to you. You may not ever see their faces during your time there. But know that anyone that is part of our family is someone that you can rely on and ultimately trust,” Dallas pressed his hand on the back of Logan’s head, cigar situated between his index and middle finger. His cock started to get stiff again in Logan’s mouth.

Logan was a bit startled at the suddenness of the news but knew that it was coming eventually. Dallas Ranch was his home for about seven weeks, he still had about 40 weeks of training left to go through. So instead, he focused on Dallas’ cock in his mouth feeling it grow stiff again.

Dallas enjoyed every second of Logan’s service. His insides were so coated in Dallas’ seed, he would probably come up as Dallas’ son on a DNA test. He wanted to flood Logan’s mouth one more time. He pulled on Logan’s head faster, feeling a final load building up.

Logan focused on service, on pleasing Master Dallas. The taste and feel of his cock filling Logan’s mouth was pure ecstasy. He felt every curve as he worked the shaft, tongue pressing on the head, one hand squeezing the large ball sack. Dallas pumped into Logan’s mouth for about three minutes before shooting the last load.

Master Dallas pulled Logan`s head back and up, “Open your mouth.” Logan did, the load of cum pooled on his tongue.

Master Dallas positioned his cigar right over it and give it a gentle tap, letting a pile of ash land on top of it.

“Swallow.”

Logan did, the metal collar around his neck clinking as he did so. A collar that was locked on him for his whole stay at the ranch except for about 12 hours the day they went to the rodeo.

Dallas pulled out a hex key and removed it, “Okay get ready for bed. I’ll be up once I finish the cigar.” Logan nodded and went inside to the bedroom.

When Master Dallas got in bed, he pulled Logan close to him, and they slept like that the entire night.

***

The next day was uneventful and quiet. When it was approaching late afternoon, Logan walked into the kitchen from the bathroom and saw Master Dallas sitting at the dining table with a cardboard box resting on top of it. Dallas got up and went over to Logan, hugging him tightly, “This will be the last time you see me. I really enjoyed your stay here and your service. You made me proud many times during your training. And I know you will go far.”

“Thank you for the opportunity, Master Dallas. I do hope to be able to visit again sometime.” Logan squeezed him back.

“Now for your next trip I’m going to put you in this,” Dallas pointed at the box. A pile of bright orange fabric was inside, “The men are about an hour away right now. I’m to put you in these and leave you on my front porch for them to pick you up like a package, understood?”

Logan nodded and Dallas got to work. They went out onto the porch and Dallas put an orange canvas straitjacket on Logan, pulling the straps tight in the crotch. Then lay out the leg sleeve on the wooden floor and Logan climbed into it. Dallas connected the two pieces forming one large sleepsack. He strapped an inflating gag on Logan and pumped it full. Finally, Dallas pulled out an orange canvas hood.

Master Dallas leaned over Logan, “This is goodbye boy, and good luck.” He pulled the hood over Logan’s head and sinched the strings tight.

Logan felt his head being let down on the porch floor and heard Master Dallas’ boots walk toward his front door. Logan heard it open, heard Dallas step through, and then the closing of the door. Logan was left in silence.

He tested the restraints. They were comfortable and thick. No possible chance for self-release in this state. Logan listened to the slight wind between the trees, other than his own breath against the hood there wasn’t much other stimulation. There was a subtle desire to go back to Master Dallas.

He was probably only a few meters away from him and yet he already considered Logan as a collected package. He missed the stall in the barn. He lay there with nervous energy, and when he heard a car approach the house, the energy grew.

He focused on his breathing, trying not to overthink and cause himself to panic so quickly. He realized for some time now that a part of himself wanted to panic. It was something that emphasized his desire to submit his existence as much as he could. His life and body completely. But not all of his mind.

He wanted to keep a part of his identity, to be able to feel this rush of panic that comes from the unknown. To surrender completely would remove all the concerns, and nerves, and there would be no reason to panic. The sub puts full meaning and faith into their Dom/Master; how could anything be worrisome with that level of trust?

But just like any sub, there are selfish desires. Selfish in a way that may seem counterproductive to reaching that harmony of power exchange but are a core part of their nature. A foundation to what makes them submissive. For Logan it was this panic. He relished the feeling, sinking deeper into his own mental world of fear and vulnerability.

A pair of footsteps walked up the porch and on either side of Logan. They lifted him up easily and carried him to the running vehicle. Logan slid into it, a van or truck of some kind. Eight straps were fastened together along the length of his body, securing him into place. Then a stiff collar was put in place, securing his head still.

A pressure pressed down on Logans neck, a boot he was pretty sure. Soon the vehicle started to move, and Logan felt himself being taken away from Dallas Ranch. Panic started to rise as he left what he considered to be his home for the past few weeks by strangers. The canvas sack and hood held him in place, he felt tired just thinking about struggling against them, so instead Logan kept still and silent like passive cargo.

Hours passed as he shifted from horny to frustrated to tired over and over. No one spoke or interacted with him other than the occasional boot on his neck. Logan thought of himself like a rock one would rest their foot on at a rocky shore while someone sat and watched the water throw itself onto land and be pulled back in. A rock you would look at and think about once and then never again. A feeling of isolation poked at him sharply. He didn’t know who he was anymore. The identity of a submissive he had grown to accept and love suddenly felt like something foreign to him. Logan wrestled with this feeling for most of the ride.

When the vehicle transporting him reached its destination, Logan was released from the straps and pulled out of the van and onto a rolling stretcher of some kind. He was grateful to be pulled off the harsh floor that pressed sores on his back and started to feel a bit better, but mentally he was still swinging from the untethered feeling about his identity to nervous excitement for his new living situation and owners for… he didn’t know how long it would be this time. Something pressed down over his face. By the time he registered the chemical scent, Logan passed out.

He woke up in darkness, rubber gripping every inch of his body. The ballon in his mouth allowed for airflow through a tube and he was spread eagled, vacuum sealed between a rubber sheet and air mattress. Logan moaned softly into his gag.

“Hello gimp,” a low voice spoke softly not far from Logan. The instinct to bring his head up to look was denied by the suction of the rubber. “The next lesson is with us, and it’s about endurance. Testing how long you can be kept as an object and how well you can handle it.”

Logan’s breath quickened at the Man’s words.

“It will be kept isolated, meaning minimum to zero interactions with any real people. The goal is to solidify its identity to be unwavering, and show it its true potential as a hole, an object, a piece of property. This might be the hardest lesson to learn, which makes it the most rewarding one. At least for me it is.” The creak of thick leather followed the Man’s words and he spoke in Logans ear, “You feel that rubber clinging to your skin?” A hand ran its way across Logan’s chest and up to around his neck, “that feeling that you can’t separate between what’s rubber and what’s skin; I will make you forget there ever was a difference, no matter what we decide to encase you in.”

Logan tested the tension, the rubber moving with him at the slightest of movement. He exhaled sharply through the gag, the taste of rubber filling his mouth.

“Well as best we can anyway. We do need to keep it in proper working order including hygiene.” He spoke and stepped away.

Having a new owner was like being lost in a jungle that Logan had to navigate. Switching between the pronouns you and it gave him that untethered feeling again. The comfort of routine from Master Dallas was gone, and he had to adapt. Comfort isn’t going to be something to expect.

There was a long period of silence before Logan thought that the Man who was now his owner (or one of them) had left the room.

Isolation. The word echoed harshly in his vacuum sealed head. He remembered the feeling of the Man’s hand on his chest and neck.

Sometime later the rubber released around Logan’s body. He felt hands working the rubber off his body and expose his skin to the ambient air. He held on to that feeling as long as he could.

If it was the same Man (his Owner), he didn’t identify himself as such, he didn’t speak as he guided logan to stand and removed the gag. Logan knew not to speak a word. It was raw instinct and made him think of how much he had changed since before being made a submissive. Now he had to dive deeper and become an object for these strangers.

Logan took a glance at the Man and saw he was in a thick leather uniform. Leather covered every inch of him, except the face. His entire head was in a molded rubber hood that showed an anonymous masculine face with a stern expression. Logan looked down after the brief glance and the Man came up behind him placing a hand on Logan’s shoulder and guided him out of the room into a dark concrete hallway.

They walked to the first door on the right. The Man opened the door and forced Logan inside, closing it hard behind him. The room was closet sized a rubber catsuit hung from a wall hook.  A bag with his chastity device was inside and a pair of MX boots on the floor underneath it. He was given no instructions, but the implications were obvious. Logan pulled on the full-body suit. Slipping his legs into the sleeves with attached socks. He slipped his arms in the same and felt the rubber cling to his skin again as he wrapped it around his back and torso. There was a sheath for his cock and balls to go into and they gripped them perfectly. A second skin.

Before pulling the hood on, he placed the chastity device on over his rubbered cock and locked it on, leaving the key in the bag. He took a moment to see the shiny steel against black rubber and felt his cock fill the cage tight. He slipped on the stiff boots, buckling the straps into place. Logan took a deep breath and pulled the hood over his face and around the back of his head. He was thrown into darkness, but there was a mouth opening around his lips. The hood gripped his jaw. Testing it, Logan was able to open his mouth comfortably.

The door opened up behind him and the back zipper was pulled up to his neck, meeting the second one pulled from the hood and they were locked together.

Logan was pulled out of the closet and guided again along the corridor. Entering another room, Logan’s arms were guided into a set of sleeves, another straitjacket. The straps were pulled taunt around his back and crotch before his arms were crossed and buckled in place.

Logan was positioned on a chair, and the boots were strapped to the chair legs. A belt was strapped around Logan’s chest and arms before a solid gag reached deep into his mouth. The gasmask followed it, filling the air he brought in through his nose with rubber. Lastly, a collar was locked on and attached to the back of the chair.

As the hands were adjusting the straps, Logan’s breathing became laborious. The air he sucked in was heavy, working through some sort of filter he couldn’t imagine. He poured all his focus on maintaining a sufficient rhythm.

“You’re an object in storage. Out of the way, and without purpose until we decide otherwise,” a voice spoke softly to Logan. A headset was placed over his ears and soft static filled his ears.

After a long time, the sound of the static and his labored breathing hypnotized Logan into a floating state of mind. He would come to every now and then to adjust his siting position, what little he could and felt the rubber stretch with his movements. His cock would bulge in its rubber and steel prison, frustration would try to kick in, but he eventually fell back into that floating space, hearing the words object and storage come back in his head.

More time passed and Logan was given a sludge type of food through a tube, piss to drink, his own included, and left alone and untouched for more time. At one point his hole was filled with something solid. It kickstarted his cock and his cock grew in its prison. The frustration built up again as he strangled the plug with his hole. Squeezing all the pleasure out of it he could but it just wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

Logan moaned in his bound state. Pulled at his restraints and struggled with his breathing. In the end all he could do was give up and sit there and take everything that came his way.

The straps were being removed when he came back from the floating space. Pressure was relieved and movement returned. He stretched his arms when the jacket was removed and then was brought a few feet away and made to lie down. The surface was hard but padded and his arms were guided into another set of sleeves keeping them at Logan’s sides. The gasmask was removed but the gag was kept in place. A zipper locked him in a stiff position and Logan started to moan again.

He could hear footsteps walk away from him this time and he struggled hard but was kept firmly in place. He thought of his small stall at the ranch that he was chained to. He missed the range of movement, however small it was, and missed seeing Master Dallas’ face.

A phrase came to mind from a distant school memory: an object at rest stays at rest.

An object is how he was to see himself. The reality of it was terrifying suddenly to him. He was exhausted, but at least he was allowed to breathe without restriction. Logan had to rest and started to repeat that law of motion over and over in his head.

An object at rest stays at rest…

An object at rest stays at rest…

Logan reminded himself to not resist, just rest.

Metal would like to thank the author, BootDeputy, for this story!