By JoxMau

Our lives are like a honeymoon again. We won’t start our new relationship for weeks. I first had to give my two weeks notice to my job, which I was more than happy to do.  You want time to do more research and prep. You want to start off out on the right foot. I am nervous that you are thinking of backing out, but you assure me that that is not the case.  As the weeks move from one to the next, more and more packages arrive so I know you are up to something.

You encourage me to enjoy my freedoms while they last.  You take me to one of our favorite steakhouses and whisper to me over and over how I might not have a steak and potato for a very long time, so I better savor my meal.  I do slow down when dining out with you and try to be more mindful. The sex is like nothing we have had before.  Although you have my cock locked up most of the time, you let me out regularly for lots of play sessions which might only be teasing but just as likely may end with me cumming.

One night you bring out the leather; the next night is the rubber. One day you have me in layers of both rubber and leather. I am hot and sweaty and incredibly horny. Over the layers you top it with a leather straight jacket pulled tight and then tighter still. The locks and chains that confine me jingle and jangle as you cinch each strap tighter. I am in bondage pig heaven.  You throw me into the closet in the spare bedroom and tell me to enjoy myself because I’ll rarely be so idle as his enduro-slave, and then he closes the door and leaves me bound and in the dark for hours.  That is what you have started calling me now. I will be your enduro-slave. I have never heard anything like it before and it has the sound of something special and uniquely ours. The other thing is that you didn’t put me in the closet downstairs. The basement was originally intended to be an in-law suite with a large bedroom with sufficient area to have a table and chairs too and an attached private bathroom.  Now it is out dungeon. Over the years I have been in its cage and have been strapped to its cross. I have been gleeful picking out toys for an evening’s game and have been terrified when you have picked some out.  I assume it is still out dungeon.  You have not let me down there since we had made the original slavery agreement.  You have been cryptic about what is going on down there. You have been spending much of your time preparing down there but I am just left with my imagination.

You tell me to stop trying to figure things out and you once again remind me to enjoy my freedoms.  You tell me to have a beer, read a book, eat a pizza, play a video game. You tell me that no matter what I do I should enjoy it and savor it. I can do anything now, but once my slavery begins if it was not in service of being his enduro-slave I might not have a chance to do it again. I of course I don’t take you up on that. Without work I am goalless. I do end up finishing a massive epic RPG but as the days became weeks I just continue to pester you. One day you have had enough and after not taking you up on your recommendation to go out and see a movie, I find myself gagged, plugged and locked in a thick, tight and restrictive hogsack and locked in the spare bedroom. I love it until I grow bored.  I want out and I want release. I will be satisfied with either, but I get neither.  I hear lots of activity coming from all corners of the house, but am clueless of what is happening.  I try to hump the pillow I knock off of the cot that we keep in this spare room. However, you had kept me locked in my chastity belt. So I am now bored, frustrated and fatigued.

The house becomes quiet. You enter the room and come before me. You smile and tell me that I am your wonderful gimp and you unlock my gag.  Still being trapped in the hogsack you have me give you a long slow blowjob. I ache from being in the sack for so long, but it is a bondage ache and I always or at least most of the time find some joy in it. Once I am done you simply zip me out and tell me take a shower and get dressed because we are going out.

I take a longish hot shower to restore myself and dress in a pair of jeans, a simple white tee and a pair of beat-up cowboy boots. They are the same jeans and boots I had been wearing those years ago when we first met.  I have been feeling a change of energy off of you so I knew something was up and I assumed my journey into slavery would finally begin. I thought to myself that calling back to the time I was free, free of you. Because since the night I met you I was never free again. My love, our love would bind us both together.

You grin when you see the boots. We both have had many types of boots over the years, but you always say that these are your favorite. It is something that the heels do to my ass. You have said that on more than one occasion. I begin to worry. I fret that you might not like my ass anymore after the plans for my enduro-slavery start taking effect. You seem to be reading my mind. You poke me in the chest and tell me that you love me.  That you love me for me and nothing else. You hold my gaze again. Your eyes are always so intense, but tonight they are more.  I bite my lip and then lean in and kiss you. This seems to satisfy you as you lead me to the door.

We walk down the street. Your arm is draped around me with your fingers playing with my nipple. I always thought that the angle would make it awkward, but you make it seem effortless. We make it to one of our regular bars a couple blocks from the house. I am horny from the nipple play and we laugh as we exchange stories from some of our prior adventures. Once we get into the bar we make our way to a far corner booth. Without asking you order me a pina colada and a bourbon and a beer for yourself.  I never order a pina colada for myself unless we are on some tropical vacation. Even though I loved them (for a reason I don’t quite understand myself) I always thought they were too silly for most days. As we wait for the drinks, we return back to reminiscing about one of our favorite stories where we had gotten a key stuck in the lock of entirely too cheep used handcuffs.  You had even made me go to the hardware store with you to get some lubricant to get the key loose.  We had endless bottles of lube but no lubricant.

Once the drinks come, I look at the frozen concoction and sigh.  You lean in and tell me to enjoy it and to savor it.  And you gave me your wicked wink. Our conversation becomes increasingly serious as I sip at the drink.  You ask me if I am really ready for what is to come. You ask me the same question in a hundred ways, just so we are both sure of what we are committing to.  You explain that just achieving one of those goals will take years of hard work and discipline. But every time you ask I am filled with visions of all those pics I had collected. I know I can’t even really imagine what they go through, but I know I want it and I tell you that. I tell you I can never be truly ready to experience something where I have no basis to imagine the experience, but I end with telling you how much I trust you.  With that, you then say that it is then settled.  I don’t need to rush but once I am done with my drink we would go home and we would begin.

To be continued…