By Zander

Part 1

I can’t say it was an ambition of mine from my pubescent days, although I was very aware of it even then. I took notice of men in news reports on crime wearing cuffs and shackles doing the perp walk. Historical movies and displays depicting bondage and the devices of it also got my attention. I did notice these things stimulated my already easily triggered teenage libido. Having no access to such things relegated my interest to just that.

It was not until I had my first homosexual encounter that many long-discarded fantasies came to the fore. I had repressed those sexual feelings all through college — even had a few girlfriends along the way. Now 26 years old and working a low-level management track job for a healthcare company, I was told one morning to go to the lobby and meet my intern, Jim, and give him some low-level tasks to occupy the next six weeks.

Jim’s dark hair and eyes along with his stunning smile drew me in. Our age difference was only 5 years, after all. It did not take too many days of morning coffee meetings and after-work happy hours before I noticed subtle signs — brushing his hand against mine, pats on the shoulder and back when less could have sufficed.

Toward the end of the internship after a Friday happy hour, he asked if I wanted to go back to the extended stay hotel where he was living to watch some streaming movies I said were on my binge list. It did not take long after arrival at his place for Jim to pull off his shirt and tie. His black tank top conformed nicely to his slender yet muscular body. We embraced and kissed each other long and deep. Things moved quickly onto the hotel bed. We explored each other’s bodies with hands, mouths and finally our stiff cocks. No concern for safety was given as we neglected the condoms Jim had placed on the nightstand. Good use was made of his lube bottle, however. As we relaxed afterwards on the bed I took note of his perfect legs, ankles and bare feet, mentally picturing him in leg irons. My cock stiffened at the thought.

All things end and shortly thereafter we went our separate paths. After his departure I began to seek out gay bondage porn sites, as I could not think of a scenario where I could ask another man to indulge this bondage fantasy now rising to the top. The more time I spent on the web the more defined my fantasy became. What was missing was the hope of realization. If I lived in a large city where bondage dens are a thing maybe, but living in a medium sized midwestern city I did not have a chance. The occasional business trip to a large city at best let me slip away to a bathhouse for a few hours. I knew no matter how much I enjoyed sex with strange men until I could be locked up and controlled by one I would feel incomplete.

After several weeks a browser search brought me to a site I had not seen before. It was a hook-up site similar to others but seemed to be more kink-focused. And more importantly it had a fair number of users near my location. I was excited to have found this and was anxious to see what it offered. I entered my date of birth and agreed to the obligatory “Terms of Service” no one but a lawyer would ever read. I remember feeling this was moving into a dark area with many unknowns, but, hell, I just affirmed that I am a grown man and willing to accept the consequences of my action.

At first the site seemed unremarkable, almost disappointing. Men who had nearly blank profiles had nothing more to say then “Hey man.” Clearly many were pic collectors who lost interest very quickly when my bare torso pic was not enough. Others claimed to have a kink on their profile but seemed clueless about it when pressed. A few could carry a conversation but soon became apparent that is all it would ever be.

Then there are the obviously mentally ill types I would never want to be in a room with let alone naked in restraints.

After a few weeks I pulled up the site to find a message waiting. The user’s name was Javier, and his profile proclaimed him a “Bondage Master” and a “Concierge to Your Bondage Fantasies.” I responded briefly to ask what kind of gear he had to which he replied, “What do your fantasies demand?”

This was a good response to my mind. The fantasy was quite simple: I am stripped naked, placed in prisoner transport restraints with cuffs, leg irons, connector chain and belly chain, then anally sodomized. Maybe forced to perform oral on someone as well. Javier responded just minutes later that his gear was prison grade quality and “not some movie prop.” He seemed thorough in his questions about my expectations for the encounter and we discussed costs. I never thought this would be free, but things do add up.

Javier claimed to be a Grad Student and does this on weekends for money. Since I was living in an apartment it would be necessary to rent a place to do this since he assured me my “screams and moans of despair will be real.” My cock stiffened at the thought of my despair at the control of Javier. If he used any “toys” on me, he assured me, they would be new and while he would not use a condom he was often tested for STDs and insisted I get an STD panel prior to our meeting. I was told to await an email with the time and place we would do the deed and the amount of cash to bring. This made me suspicious — was Javier just planning to rob me? Still, I could not resist the thought of finally being placed in restraints by a strange man. My cock was now rock hard and throbbing, a spot wet from precum appearing on my khakis.

Part 2

Two days later it was a warm summer weekend, the kind of day I liked to go down to the apartment complex swimming pool to cool off then relax on the lounge chairs. My bikini style swimsuit was about as minimal as you can get, and mine was bright green and white striped since I liked to draw attention to myself. Others took plenty of notice, but I did not care about the attention from the ladies as much as their closeted boyfriends and husbands. Their sunglass-covered eyes were betrayed by the turning of their heads as I would walk by. After giving the guys something to jerk off to later, I returned to my apartment and found an email from an anonymous mail server had arrived with the subject line “Javier.”

It was just some attachments, which I promptly clicked and patiently waited for them to open. Soon a pdf opened instructing me to go to the “Woodside Cabins Hotel #19” a week from Saturday at 1PM and to bring $800 cash for expenses. An appointment had also been set up at the Health Clinic in the city for my STD panel, which I was to pay for as well. Seemed steep, but my cock had other thoughts about it. A second attachment then opened a variety of legal documents with instructions to electronically sign them immediately, which I did after making a cursory run through the many pages. My escapades at the pool earlier and this next step toward realization of my fantasy caused my cock to stiffen and protrude from my swimsuit waistband, demanding my prompt attention.

I went after work on Monday to scope out the “Woodside Cabins” which was about 10 miles outside town in the woods. It was probably quite the place 50-60 years ago, but the world had passed it by. Now about 20 cabins and one office remained, mostly dilapidated. The pool was long since filled in. The few occupants seemed to be people without other living arrangements. No tourist would consider this place. Otherwise, it seemed somehow suited for my bondage fantasy to play out. I drove to the Sexual Health clinic where my blood and urine was collected and orifices swabbed. I was assured results would be available before my day with Javier and was emailed a website and password to obtain them.

The next several days seemed like forever. For all the thinking about it and fantasizing about it, it was soon to be realized. I had trouble sleeping and needed to masturbate at least daily. I even got so horny at work thinking about it I jerked off in the men’s room stall —something I would never have considered otherwise. As I lay in bed at night I wondered if Javier would be aggressive throughout the fantasy or just when he was railing my ass (which I did ask for). Would I even be able to strip in front of him and submit to restraints? Of course I would submit I convinced myself— it’s what I wanted.

The day finally arrived, and I made my way to the cabin. I pulled up to #19 — it was somewhat set back from the others. Another car was already parked alongside. I approached the cabin and noticed the few windows had curtains drawn. My knock was greeted by a young handsome Hispanic man who smiled and said “Hi, I’m Javier, come on in. I just got here myself.” His easy demeanor relaxed me. He was quite handsome with his curly black hair and close-cropped beard and mustache.

My eyes were slow to adjust to the darkness inside only lit now by an old lamp. I noticed a couple large duffels on the only table but could not see what their purpose was. A laptop sat partially open on top of the old TV set.

I started some nervous small talk about the weather or some BS but Javier interrupted, “If you gotta piss you better do it now.” It was delivered more as a command, so I obeyed and emptied my bladder in the ancient toilet. This does make sense, I thought, and when I walked out to compliment his foresight his demeanor had changed.

“Go stand with your face against the wall next to the door. Do it now!” His smile now something of a scowl. I complied with the command and was kind of proud my nervousness did not scare me out of there. He proceeded to adjust some objects in the dim room out of my view and seemed to be doing something on the laptop. For some reason I asked if I could do anything to help, to which he replied, “You can shut the fuck up until I ask you a question.”

Again I incrementally ceded control to this strange man.

Eventually he demanded the $800 for which I dug eight $100 bills out of my blue jeans pocket. He did not ask about my STD test results, but I thought it best not to say anything lest I be scolded again. I certainly was not going to demand his results. I glanced to the side towards the bed to note he had pulled off the bed spread and tossed it to the corner. This left the sheets with two pillows stacked on one side.

“See that luggage rack next to you? I want you to strip naked and put your clothes on the rack then face the wall. Do it now!” I hurriedly complied with his demand. I left my socks on given the rundown condition of the place. This did not sit well with Javier. “What the fuck did I tell you? Naked! As the day you were born! Do it now!”

I complied and stripped them off.

“Hands on the back of your head — interlock your fingers.”

I had never been in this position before. Prisoners endured this because they have no choice. I did have a choice but chose this anyway. It was exciting as hell and taking the edge off my nervousness. I now became aware my cock was fully erect with a string of precum oozing from it. Then I heard it-the unmistakable clanking/rattling of chains.

“Listen, fucker. Do exactly what I tell you. Don’t make me use the stun gun to get this done.”

I remembered seeing something about granting permission for that in that computer form I hastily signed.

“Bend up your left leg.” The feel of the cold steel shackle gripping my ankle was exhilarating. “Bend up your right leg.” The other shackle was locked on. They felt heavy on my ankles as Javier double locked them. I began to feel more acutely aware of my nakedness, which only made my stiff cock throb harder and the string of precum grow longer. He now pulled up a mass of chains somehow not hitting my cock, quickly drawing it around my waist, cinching it up and locking in the back. I was surprised to look down towards my belly and not see handcuffs dangling, awaiting my wrists, just a chain running to my shackles. Then I felt cold steel parts against the side of my hips. He then proceeded to lock the cuffs on each wrist and double lock them. I was confused about why he chose this type of restraint but I dare not ask.

Now here I stood, facing a wall in a dingy cabin, naked, locked in cuffs and leg irons and sporting a precum oozing hard-on. From behind me I see a flash. “Turn left,” Javier commanded. I obeyed. Another flash. “Face Me,” he commanded as he pointed a smart phone camera in my direction.

“You, you didn’t say I was going to be photographed like this you, you can’t just…”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled, noticing my hard-on and sneering. “You faggots are all alike. You want to play games then when it gets real you turn into whiny fucks. Now stand up straight!”

I think this is the moment I felt truly submissive as I tried to move my hands from my sides to cover my cock, but to no avail. I felt completely exposed. He snapped the picture — a full frontal. He then commanded one more turn and the photographing was complete. I felt utterly humiliated.

Part 3

I tried to stammer out a protest to the photos taken. Javier just sneered and even chuckled when I tried to move my arms to make my point. He was enjoying it. He then came up to me and grabbed my left arm. “Careful you don’t fall — that leg iron chain is only 16 inches. You aren’t leaving here until I let you.”

He was right, the leg irons in addition to feeling heavy were very restrictive. Not that I had far to go. At the bedside he ordered me to lay face down, my chest on the stacked pillows. I said, “If you are going to fuck me just do it against the wall.”

He responded, “I’m gettin’ pretty fucking tired of your whining,” at which point he reached up and pinched my nostrils shut. With my mouth now agape his other hand shoved what I recognized as a penis gag in, quickly filling my mouth. Straps were then run around my head, securing it in place. I was trying to adapt to it by sucking air through my now freed nostrils and adjusting my tongue to try and slurp back some saliva. It must have looked like I was really enjoying having that phallus in my mouth.

Javier then dropped me face down, the pillows elevating my gagged face just above the mattress. It was then I realized it made more sense to use handcuffs on the sides so my weight is only on the belly chain. Javier went back to the laptop and moving other things around. He also seemed to be texting. He returned briefly to place some absorbent pads and towels under my pelvis and head. The headboard had a shiny metal accent strip in it, which worked kind of like a blurry rear-view mirror. My still erect cock was safely under me feeling the cold steel of the belly and connector chains. I began to suspect there was more going on with Javier than I bargained for. Despite being in heavy restraints, I began to plan an escape from the cabin. With a 16-inch chain I couldn’t go fast, but I could still go — I just needed Javier to go take a piss. The cabin door was unlocked, and I could still turn the doorknob. Yeah, that was my plan. Sure it will be humiliating to stumble to the office naked in restraints with a penis gag, but what choice did I have?

As I awaited my opportunity I could see Javier walking toward me in the metal strip. I thought, “Maybe he is just going to fuck me as I requested and let me go.” He then bent over my buttocks, spreading my cheeks with one hand when suddenly I feel something large but slippery forcing its way through my hole. The feeling of pressure was unbelievable, and I made guttural sounds through the gag. Sure, I had large cocks up my ass many times but this was way beyond that. I then felt my sphincter clamp down on the neck of the object. “You’re plugged in both ends now, faggot,” said Javier as he chuckled. It was then I felt a wave of despair. This buttplug was going to make it even harder to walk to the door. I began to sob and moan, remembering his promise about moans of despair. As I tried to wrap my head around this development Javier grabs the 16-inch leg iron chain pulling my lower legs up and together. I feel him manipulate the chain followed by a metallic click then he drops my legs back to the mattress. I then realize I can’t separate my legs — he had padlocked my leg irons together. Any hope of a getaway was dashed. He had finished prepping me for whatever he had planned.

A short time later there was a knock on the door. Javier quickly opened and greeted the visitors in a quiet tone. I had gone into this thinking it was just him and me, and now others arrive. I now saw five figures reflected in the blurry metal piece. They talked softly for a few minutes, occasionally laughing. About this time I hear Javier say something about “Yeah, he’s cleared to bareback just gotta unplug him,” and, “Nope, the gag stays in place.” Then the unmistakable sound of belt buckles, snaps and zippers being undone.

“Holy shit! WTF!” I thought. “These guys are going to gang bang me!” Bright lights suddenly illuminated the bed. Javier then appeared at the bedside near my head and placed a small video camera mounted on a tripod to record my face. Presumably my humiliation was to be captured from several angles.

The first humiliation was my unplugging. The honor went to TOP No. 1 — chubby with a red bandana over his face. “You gonna like what I do to ya but first gotta get this outta the way,” as his rough calloused hand spread my ass cheeks wide the other tugged the plug with my sphincter eventually yielding, a rush of gas and fluids exiting my dilated hole. I then felt him straddle my legs — apparently naked from the waist down.

“God WTF did I get myself into,” I thought. “I am a 26-year-old executive trainee about to be raw fucked by an offensive farmhand,” but I barely completed the thought when I felt his cock penetrate my greased hole. My instinct was to struggle against the restraints, which is the point I suppose. I guess TOP No. 1 was excited by my struggles because I felt a warm pressure in my butt after about 30 thrusts. He dismounted and gave my butt a hard slap, declaring “This ’uns a fighter, whoo boy!” The others were a chorus of “Fuck Yeas!”

The time for my second humiliation had arrived the form of TOP No. 2 — a greasy blue collar guy with a blue bandana mask — as he high fives his associates and steps toward my restrained figure still writhing from the first unplugging and pounding. I could barely manage what was happening to my restrained body while coping with the penis gag filling my mouth, saliva dribbling onto the pads. This guy was taking his time mounting up, seeming to revel in slapping my buttocks. His shirt looked like he worked in a garage — some kind of name patch and lots of grease stains. “I been lookin’ forward to this,” he enthusiastically proclaimed. Once again I felt bare legs straddle my bare shackled legs. Spreading apart my cheeks, he found his target and pressed the assault. His cock was longer than the first guy, eliciting from me a deep groan through my gag and a strain at my cuffs. He was slow thrusting at first as he lowered his torso down to my back, his masked face appearing to the right of my head. He undid the mask slightly and drew nearer to my face, making me think he was actually going to kiss me. Instead his tongue started penetrating my ear canal.

The chains rattled as I strained against the disgusting surprise and to a chorus of “Fuck yeas!” from the gallery. He smelled disgusting as well — a combo of grease and musky sweat. The pounding then began in earnest, my rider slamming home with his cock balls deep with each quickening thrust. Turning back to his first obsession with my butt, he began slapping it again, increasing my groans and guttural screams behind the gag, only adding to his pleasure. I don’t know how long it went on but eventually he let out the final “Oh fuuuuck!” and my rectum received its next infusion of hot cum. A final butt slap and he dismounted.

Part 4

Humiliation inducer TOP No. 3 — a guy in his mid-twenties with a yellow bandana mask — stepped up to the usual cheers from the gallery. I could see in the blurry reflection he was also bare ass and was so proud he made certain the cameras noticed it. He otherwise looked like any twenty something without much going for them. He had on a T-shirt with some sports logo and a baseball cap. To my surprise he politely asked Javier to unlock the padlock holding my leg irons together. “Could this be happening?” I thought. “Is this guy my age about to become my protector today?” Of course not. His special skill I discovered was fisting. He just wanted more room to work in and give the camera a better view of his fist traveling up my rectum. He snapped on a glove and had Javier toss him some lube. Then it began one finger at a time, my assailed anus giving way. The sensation made me let out a long low groan while he worked his hand. My cock was reacting to the prostate stimulation giving me the sensation I was going to orgasm onto the pad but just then he withdrew. Not because he was done with me, it was time for his beer can size cock to unload in the tunnel he had created. He had been hard the whole time he was fisting me as I could feel his bratwurst rubbing against my leg. After about 5 minutes of thrusting he nutted into me and dismounted. Javier quickly relocked the padlock on the leg irons.

Humiliator TOP No. 4 — a tall, distinguished gentleman with a green bandana mask — was something I could not have imagined. Unlike the blue-collar dudes who just fucked me, he carried himself with an air of dignity and consideration. One could easily conclude he was a college humanities professor or a retired clergyman. What the fuck would either be doing in that cabin? He approached the bed where I lay in my and other men’s various juices. He asked Javier politely to freshen the absorbent pads below my head and pelvis and caressed my left shoulder while Javier carried out the task. He was close enough to my head I could see he was also naked below the waist — his pubes a grey bush.

“I guess he’s not so different than the others,” I thought. He then took the nearby bottle of lube and gingerly applied a coating to his now semi erect cock. Gently spreading my buttocks apart, he muttered, “Dear God,” and with a towel from Javier tidied up my perineum, which was a stew of lubes, ass secretions and cum. The gallery had even quieted down because of some reverence for the man. There was no way to delude myself that he wasn’t going to take his turn, he just seemed to bring some small amount of dignity to the situation. He then drizzled some lube onto my wiped sphincter, tossing the bottle to Javier. Mounting up he pressed his now average sized full erection into my hole and slowly thrusted. Unlike the others who only touched my back and shoulders as a brace to aid in their assault, his soft hands caressed my back and massaged my shoulders. My chain rattling nearly abated and I sucked my gag in rhythm to his slow thrusting and hands massaging me.

After a few minutes he leaned in and gently kissed my neck and shoulders. His head moved next to mine and he whispered to me, “I am so, so sorry to have to be doing this to you. God bless you, son, and please forgive me.” I was stunned. Perhaps he is a victim of Javier in some way as well. He then assumed a more upright mounted position on me, and his thrusting slowly sped up. I noted he also moved his hands between my arms and chest, his hands and fingers moving across my pecs until my nipples were located. It was then the assault truly began; my nipples were pinched tightly in his fingers and twisted. I screamed into the gag to stop.

This only increased his efforts to torture them. Simultaneously he accelerated his thrusting, but I barely noticed because of the screaming and chain rattling as I strained against the cuffs. Because of his age he was also the slowest to cum, so this agony dragged on for several minutes. When the time arrived however, he came in buckets or so it seemed. And he was sure to deposit every drop inside. Withdrawing his cock I could see a strange grin on his face reflected in the metal strip. He then dismounted and walked back to the gallery where I could hear high fives and backslaps.

“Please, please let this be over,” I thought. Now I felt the utter despair I had longed for. I felt the others in the room staring at my chained and gagged body and could only assume their contempt for me in this position. How humiliating. Then from the gallery I heard someone say, “Don’t forget Javier, the Fluffer wants to get in on this.”

“I remember,” replied Javier, “just have to move some of the cameras and lights.”

“Oh God no!” I thought, remembering five people had come in. A few minutes later Javier said, “Fluff, your’re up. Guys, just help me flip ’em over.” The greasy guy and the twenty something emerged into the light and rolled me over then lifted me so my head was on the now sweat-saturated pillows. My ass began to drain its sexual brew onto the pad.

As they retreated a slender figure strutted into the light and slid up next to me on the bed. He was young but so rail thin it was hard to tell exactly. He wore a yellow tank top and peach colored shorts as if he was going to the beach. His hair was bleach blond with some blue mixed in. It was about that moment I realized Fluffer was not his nickname, but his job like on a porn movie set. This guy is the reason the others were ready to go as they ran their train on my ass. I thought he might have some feelings of empathy for me since he spent the last hour sucking all their cocks. It was then he looked me in the eye, baring his teeth — all filed to points.

Then he extended his tongue that he had split like a reptile’s. His beady dark eyes and menacing expression made me once again struggle at my cuffs and shackles, moving myself a few inches away while screaming, “NO! NO! NO!” as best I could through the gag. Then in front of my face Javier activated the stun gun. “You want a dose of this. fucker? Then settle down,” to which I complied.

Fluff moved closer to my still solidly erect cock, taking hold of it with one hand while the other hand seized my testicles. As he moved his tank top shifted, revealing demonic looking tattoos over his chest and back. “What a sight this must have been, him fluffing the Reverend’s cock earlier,” I thought. Without a word he opened his mouth and went down on my sweaty 6.5-inch. I never had a cocksucker like him before — it felt amazing! It was something about his forked tongue running along my shaft. He did not seem to mean me any harm — even the ball play was not too aggressive. I almost could not reconcile the humiliation with this ecstasy I was now experiencing.

Like all gifted cocksuckers he could tell I was shortly going to nutt by the throb of the cock and my exhalations through my nostrils. I found myself matching his rhythm on the penis gag as if I was sucking myself. The gallery was alive again with “Fuck yea’s!” and “Suck that faggot’s cock!” Relaxed in my cuffs and shackles in anticipation of a long awaited and expertly elicited orgasm, I wondered if he was going take my load in his mouth. The gallery now seemed invested in my orgasm, chanting, “Cum, cum, cum.” I felt my resentment for these men that assailed me start to fade and camaraderie with them develop. Fluff’s mouth came off my cock and he gave it three good strokes. My cock launched four cum ropes skyward, landing on my thighs and abdomen. It felt as if every muscle in my body forced out every molecule of jizz in me. The gallery went wild. Javier came in close with the handheld camera to record the event.

Fluffer then set about licking off the ropes of cum before my sweat could melt them off my body. “Lick that faggot clean boy!” TOP No. 1 hollered. When Fluff filled his mouth I thought our moment of bonding had arrived and he would gulp down my jizz. Instead he positioned himself six inches from my face and delivered my jizz mixed with his spit explosively onto my face. “When will the humiliation end!” my thoughts screamed as my despair elicited a moan. A few moments ago I thought this may be just a hazing, but even the reptilian cocksucker showed me my place.

Javier announced it was breaktime to someone through the laptop and the red lights on the cameras around me went off. I sobbed when I contemplated the ramifications of the video of me doing what I agreed to do going up on the web. Perhaps Jim the intern also had a secret chain bondage fetish and will see this. Would he approve? Would he get aroused?

Part 5

Despite my shame and humiliation it did feel so good to nutt so thoroughly and to have a flaccid cock again. Also to be restrained on my back was a relief both physically and I could see everyone clearly as Javier dimmed the video lights. The gallery was milling about drinking bottled water but none was offered to me. “What is possibly left? Were they all going to have a second round at my ass?” Two of them, the Farmhand and the Reverend, had put pants back on but were walking around barefoot as if they anticipated having to drop trou again. The other two were still naked from the waist down badgering Fluff to “suck four ropes out of each of them” at which Fluff grinned with his sharp teeth.

Finally the Rev wandered over to the bedside. No empty blessings or pleas of forgiveness came forth. Just a stupid smile as he inspected my swollen, throbbing and bruised nipples. I should add that my face was still shedding the jizz and spit Fluff had unloaded upon me, running down my neck and torso until drying on my abdomen near the belly chain I insisted upon. I could not look him in eye.

Javier busied himself with cameras and texting and other things in the duffels, looking up at me only when my chains rattled or leg irons clattered. He knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

Finally Javier said, “Okay, Fluff, clean ’em up. It’s almost time to go live again,” tossing a container of pre-moistened wipes onto the bed. Fluff dutifully wandered over — no strutting this time. “Don’t forget the padlock, Javier,” he said, inspecting my groin. Javier once again released the 16-inch chain on the leg irons and Fluff set about cleaning my genitals, perineum and thighs but did not concern himself with his jizz handiwork or my butt, which was in serious need of attention. Again I could not bring myself to look the reptilian in the eye, I was so ashamed of my circumstance.

“You need all of us to stay? Seems his chains would make it a two-man job?” asked the greasy mechanic. “Just a precaution and I want him to realize he has no choice but to comply,” said Javier. “It’s your money,” he replied, then asking Fluff to toss him the wipes because “my dick stinks like his ass” pointing at me. Even the Rev and farmhand agreed and undid their pants to cleanse my stink off themselves.

“Okay, Fluff, you do the honors. Go live in 3,2,1 — action!”

“What could this possibly be?” I thought, lying chained and gagged. Clearly I was just along for the ride at this point. Javier handed Fluff a cardboard box looking like it held something expensive. He removed and held for the camera what look like some metal parts of twisted thick shiny wire. Javier moved a camera closer to my groin. The gallery moved closer but stayed off camera as they were unmasked. I was still confused as I did not ask for this but soon realized what they were about to do. Fluff, on his knees next to me, proceeded to assemble the pieces around my genitals.

These bastards were caging my cock! I violently shook and strained against my cuffs, kicking my legs as far as the 16-inch chain permitted. The greasy mechanic and the 20-year-old who were still bare ass for some reason each seized an ankle. I saw the futility in my actions and feared Javier may use the stun gun, but he refrained. “Lock that cage!” Javier yelled to Fluff, causing him to insert the last cylindrical piece with a snap sound. Heaviness befell my groin. Javier then proclaimed, “3,2,1 and out,” the red camera lights switched off. Indifferently, Javier relocked the padlock on my irons. Fluff and the gang wandered to the other side of the cabin making small talk. “These bastards just caged my cock and they don’t even care,” I thought, lying helpless on that disgusting bed.

Javier seemed to be wrapping things up with the four men who had fucked me while Fluff was taking down the cameras and lights. No one was paying any attention to me, still restrained and sucking the goddamn phallus gag and trying not to drown myself in saliva. The now dressed men filed out, not acknowledging me at all. That left Fluff and Javier to wrap up. I was not sure when any freedom would come my way.

It was then Fluff approached Javier. “Remember what we talked about me doing?” said Fluff.

Javier rolled his eyes. “I do. Do you remember what I said?”

“You said if the opportunity arises — well it’s chained up and gagged right over there,” Fluff responded, pointing at me. He then abruptly pulled down his peach shorts, springing loose a 9-inch cock with a noticeable upward curve. “We just gotta flip him over and you’ll see what I can do.” I was terrified. My ass was already burning from the four poundings, one fisting and one buttplug. No way could I take that. I began shouting, “No, No, No!” loudly through the gag, my eyes wide with fear.

Fluff, with an arrogant look, began to strut toward me, cock in hand. Javier grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. “He’s way more valuable to us right now than you, Fluff. Relax. That’s not how we select participants. You’ll get there. You’re a real pro at putting on those cages though!”

Valuable? I did not have all the pieces but did not consider myself an employee. Fluff was told to take off by Javier, who did not have much left to pack. At last when he had moved most everything out to his car while I lay on the filthy pads feeling utterly humiliated by the events of the day I myself had requested, Javier appeared at the bedside. He removed my padlock. “Let me get you up and over to the wall. I know you’re feeling a lot of things right now — none good — but I will use the stun gun hooked on my belt if I have to. Get used to being used. Let me explain.” He tossed some pads on the floor where I was standing to catch any remaining secretions.

Part 6

Javier went on to explain he works for a larger worldwide organization that exploits men trying to indulge their fetishes. The military grade metal cock cage is a reminder of my obligation to them. If I fail to perform as expected, my video will be released first to family, friends, coworkers and employer and then onto the Internet with my complete bio. Each session is live-streamed and recorded. The computer file I had opened placed spyware on my computer, and today Javier placed spyware on my phone and trackers in my car’s software. My wallet contents were photographed. Even my STD results were reviewed before I saw them since they could open the email for the password. He even watched and recorded me jerk off in my swimsuit through my laptop camera that day I opened the attachment. They knew everything about me.

He went on to explain the cock cage is almost impossible to remove with ordinary tools. Until I am deemed a reliable participant it will stay locked on except when I am participating in further bondage or fetish videos as I may be called upon to perform in. It will be locked back on after each performance is completed. As a reminder not to tamper with it I can expect to be contacted by text or call anytime and commanded to photograph or display the cage.

“Cheer up, fucker,” Javier added. “It’s not all bad news.” He went on explain that after the first year of full cooperation the cage may be permanently removed and that I may even earn money through online fan tip tokens, fan participation fees or sponsor affiliate arrangements for things used in the shoots. But he cautioned, “If you ever fuck up and don’t do what you’re told, those videos will go out to everyone you know.”

“Try to be like the Rev,” he said. “Seventeen years he’s been performing since the company got him doing his sadism fetish. He is a fan favorite. Given today’s viewer numbers you got a good chance to be the next star.”

I stood there afraid to move, trying to comprehend what I was now perpetually a part of. It is a kind of 24/7/365 bondage without the chains. Some more of the Rev’s jizz then dribbled from my sphincter onto the pad.

Javier then removed my gag, shackles, cuffs and chains, the connector chain making a new metallic tone as it ran over my cage, leaving me standing face to the wall again feeling very alone. “You’ll get something from me by email tomorrow, fucker. Hope you enjoy it. Over there is a bottle of water and an absorbent pad for your car seat for the ride home. There’s also a pamphlet from the cock cage company on how to take care of it. You can shower before you go. We got the cabin for 30 more minutes. See ya!”

As I made my way to the disgusting bathroom, my mind was in a million places. If escaping off the bed just two hours ago were difficult, getting out of this predicament would be impossible. The tepid water rained down on me and the reconstituted jizz, saliva, sweat and lube were carried away.

The unnatural weight of the cage tugging at my genitals was hard to ignore. After toweling off I dressed. My blue jeans were now challenged by the cage, but I managed to zip up without having to go commando. I got into my car and drove away from that dreary place. Ten minutes down the road I was texted, “pull over in a safe spot, pull pants and shorts down to knee level and text back a photo of your cage and holding up three fingers. You have 15 minutes to comply.” I did.

Back at home I showered again and applied some anesthetic cream to my still burning anus. I could not eat because of my sore jaw from sucking on the damn penis gag for almost three hours. As sleep was coming to me another text: “Open your laptop and remove all clothing you are wearing, stand in front of the laptop camera with your hands above your head. You have 15 minutes to comply.” I did and was now wide awake again, fearful of missing any more commands.

After an uneasy sleep I awoke to the odd presence of my cage. I finally felt the need to piss and made my way to the bathroom. Pissing through the cage opening was not easy at first. I soon got the hang of aligning the opening with my piss slit to avoid spraying the area with piss. I was throughout the day hit with other realizations of things I cannot do anymore, such as show off my bikini swimsuit at the pool, shower in the communal showers at the gym, piss next to another man at a urinal and worst of all — no jerking off or sex with men on my terms. I was then disturbed again by another command from my new masters to drop my pants and display my cage.

That afternoon my email alert chimed as Javier promised. The first attachment was a pdf with my next “performance” in four weeks at the same cabin. It had the added requirement that I arrive first, pay for the cabin myself with $250, then enter, strip and stand face to the wall and wait for the others who will be different this time, one of whom will be a fan participant if he passes his STD screening. A second attachment launched a video file of my first “performance” highlights. It had up to four simultaneous angles on the screen, one of which was my face sucking that gag while moaning and screaming and in one clip when I was orgasming. My fisting was particularly hard to watch, yet watch it I did. In fact, I watched the entire highlight reel several times to take in each angle of my fantasy realized. As Javier explained, banner ads for lubes used, the butt plug and the cock cage company appeared and a fan tip tally for each performer was displayed.

***

I did it. I really did it. My realization of my fantasy exceeded my wildest imagination, and though I did not envision it this way I found the perpetual servitude it entailed sexually exciting. I guess it’s what I wanted.

End

Metal would like to thank the author, Zander, for this story and welcome him to the Prison Library!