Living an Extremely Disciplined Life

By Mister-X/Spartan

I was never in the Marines, but I’ve always been fascinated by them. In particular, I love their uniforms and their discipline. I purchased various of their uniforms on e-Bay which I wear at home.

I also have been interested in being bound and dominated. It was at the local bondage club that I met Jerry. He had been a Marine drill sergeant, and liked topping guys, as well as reliving his drill sergeant days. I invited him to come to my home on weekends to relive his favorite times. He was only too happy to do so.

Sometimes others with my desires would join us, and sometimes some of his Marine buddies would join us as well. He always wanted me to dress in my Marine uniforms at home, uniforms I had to keep in spotless condition, standing at attention for his arrival, saluting him when we would meet. He would, of course, inspect me and start yelling orders into my ear. I wasn’t allowed to relax from attention until he told me to. Any shortcomings, real or imagined, would be punishable by bondage. This suited both of our desires.

During the days on Saturdays and Sundays he would usually take me to an open area and start marching me around the area, and others if they came as well. We would always be wearing Marine uniforms, the ones Jerry would tell us would be the uniform of the day, never fatigues, and have to maintain a stiffly erect posture when marching, any slacking from that resulting in more orders yelled into our ears. He also would have us do exercises. Some of those were pretty difficult to do. But the result was that I was getting into much better physical condition.

This became a regular event every weekend. Jerry had a key to my home, and he would always be there on Friday nights after I’d come home from work and had a chance to change. I should have realized where this was going.

My punishments increased, and gradually became more intense. One punishment was for my cock to be put into chastity. Jerry kept the key, and would decide when it would be freed. At first it was for the weekend. Next it was for a week. Soon it was for a month. Now it’s never freed.

One of my closets was designated as the brig. I would sometimes be sentenced to time in the brig. My hands would be cuffed behind my back, and I would be put in the closet for a period of time, the cuffs not removed. Jerry would check to see what gear I had, and would gradually add more as time passed. In this way I had ankle shackles added, then a gag, and finally a metal collar. Jerry particularly enjoyed having the collar added above my dress blue uniform’s hard stand-up collar. I had my uniforms initially be between snug and tight. With the exercises they started being tight at the top.   The same was true of the metal collar, so neither overlaid the other. It was getting to become true punishment.

While in the brig I was required to stand erect at attention. There would periodically be surprise inspections, which would result in additional punishment. The additional punishment consisted of Jerry utilizing my ass to satisfy his cock. Again, needless to say, my punishments became more frequent and more severe as his desires increased. When his friends would come by, they would also participate in the fun and resulting in additional punishment.

During the week I would be shopping on the internet, always looking for something to add to our fun. That was when I found a set of combination Darby cuffs. I figured this would be good for those punishment sessions, and purchased it. Jerry loved it as well. I was soon in the closet locked in those. At first they were in front of me, the original purpose of them being to secure a prisoner while he was being transported. But one weekend when I had been slack and missed shining my shoes after they’d gotten dirty on that drill area the weekend before after it had rained hard, Jerry punished me by putting me into them behind my back. Plus he had me wearing my dress blue uniform when he did so. The metal ring part of the Darby set he put around my neck in the narrow space between my metal collar and my chin. Given the short chain that connected the cuffs, this pulled my head back significantly. Also my hands were pulled up painfully high behind my back. Jerry kept me in those all weekend in the closet while he enjoyed watching football. By the end of the weekend I was regretting having purchased them.

It was the following weekend that I was back in those in the closet when I heard some sounds going on outside. When my brig time was finished, Jerry informed me that he had moved into my home. I only had one bed, and he was now going to be sleeping in it. He would be securing me in my leather sleep sack on the floor. He said that I should consider it to be like spending the night out on one of their periodic Marine outings.

After that, when I got home from work, I would immediately be called to attention and inspected. I have a white-collar job and wear a suit and tie to work each day. Jerry would inspect me to make sure that I was perfectly attired. Any flaw, no matter how minor, resulted in me being put into the brig again for the night, now always with the Darby cuffs on behind my back while wearing my suit shirt and tie and the metal collar.

Jerry noticed that this wasn’t as punishing for my neck as it would be when wearing the dress blue uniform, so he ordered a bunch of new shirts for me to wear, using my account. These had much higher collars than I would normally have. They were cotton, and he required me to have the collars and cuffs heavily starched, wearing a short tie pin as well which brought the collar tightly together at the base of my neck. Those were done at a nearby Chinese laundry. He also got them to be the same collar size as my other clothes, which were before my neck expanded from the exercises. I didn’t want to wear these new shirts, but Jerry threw away my other ones, so I had no choice. These shirts put my neck in a vice. But they did force me to maintain an erect posture.

I had started opening my collars and loosening my ties when at work while wearing those shirts. He made a surprise visit to me to go out to lunch while I was dressed that way. At lunch, after I’d returned my collar and tie to normal, he informed me that I was going to be spending the next month in the brig at home for such a major breach. And from now on he would put a zip tie around my neck at the top of the collar under the tie to prevent me from opening my collar again. Without the collar open, there was no reason to loosen my tie. I now had to suffer.

I had no way to complain when at home. Jerry now required me to always be gagged when at home, only removed in the morning to eat and brush my teeth. I no longer had the ability to eat dinner when at home, and had to pick up something to eat while driving home from work. Needless to say, I had to make sure that no food showed up on my clothes before entering my home, but I wasn’t always successful in that. Jerry always found even the smallest particle, and I’d be back in the brig for the night.

I had been enjoying this from the beginning, but now I was having second thoughts. The problem was that I couldn’t talk to Jerry, even when the gag was out. Every time I would try, he would start yelling at me. That always got me to shut up, since I was too meek to yell back at him.

Somehow Jerry found out when I was going to be taking a vacation from work. Unknown to me he had been making plans for the two of us to leave on vacation together. I had also been making plans to go on vacation by myself. It was one morning at breakfast, the only time we could communicate as two people, that Jerry surprised me by telling me where we would be going on vacation. I told him about my vacation plans, and he ordered me to cancel those. I realized I had no choice.

So when the time came, we left. We drove to Quantico, Virginia, using my credit card for expenses, for Jerry to meet with some of his Marine buddies and for me to experience being in a real dungeon that one of his buddies had created. I had built up quite a bit of brig time, and Jerry wanted me to spend it in something more intense than what I had in my home.

It took us a couple of days to arrive, and Jerry had brought along some of our gear. Jerry had me dress for the trip like I would for work. We got a room with one bed for Jerry to sleep in while I would be restrained in the sleep sack on the floor. Supposedly it was to save money, but I knew that wasn’t the reason. When we arrived the second night, Jerry greeted his buddy who had the dungeon, and I was quickly marched in to it. With me soon in a small cage, still in shirt and tie, gagged with metal collar and combination Darby cuffs on my backside, Jerry went off to have an enjoyable visit with his buddies.

I spent the entire vacation like that in that cage. Food would periodically be set in front of me with the cage door opened and my gag removed so I could eat, which wasn’t easy considering the awkward position I was in. I had to bend forward to be able to access the food with my mouth, my ankles coming forward as well due to the short chain. My gag would be put back when the dirty dishes were picked up. One of Jerry’s friend’s assistants would take care of my needs. He would stick around to watch me try to adjust my position to be able to get my mouth on the food. He found it amusing. He would be dressed smartly in a summer Marine uniform. It was the middle of summer, which meant it was hot and humid near the ocean in Virginia. Jerry’s friend did not use air conditioning in his dungeon, so I was sweating buckets. By the end of the vacation I was miserable.

Finally Jerry came by for his assistant to remove me from the cage. After all that time my muscles wouldn’t react as usual, so when Jerry immediately called me to attention, I wasn’t able to comply to his standards. He started yelling into my ear. I saw his friend and the assistant smiling as he was doing this. Jerry was standing alongside of me yelling as he marched me out to the car.

When we got there, he opened the trunk and told me to get inside. He was also holding my combination Darby cuffs. After two weeks in that cage, I didn’t want two more days of that. When I wouldn’t obey him, he said that I smelled to high heaven, and he didn’t want me in the car that way. After two weeks in that sweat box I had to agree with Jerry that I smelled, but I didn’t want to ride for two days in the trunk. When he could see that I wasn’t going to comply, he called for his friend and his assistant to come out to help him. Between the three of them, they had me secured in the Darbys outside of the trunk, and lifted me to place me inside the trunk. With the door closed, Jerry said his goodbyes to his friend, and drove off.

This was the first time I had openly disobeyed one of Jerry’s orders. Maybe it caused Jerry to start thinking as he was driving back to my home, thinking that I might order him to leave, because when we got to the motel that night, he got a room with two beds (using my credit card), and let me out of the restraints to be able to get a shower and clean up. And that night I wasn’t restrained, able to finally stretch out in a real bed and get a good night’s sleep.

The next day I was back in shirt and tie, sitting stiffly erect in the passenger seat of the car. We didn’t talk. Finally Jerry said “thank you for allowing me to visit with my Marine buddies. I thoroughly enjoyed that.” I was thinking that I didn’t enjoy it, but I was floored by Jerry actually thanking me for something. I reached over and patted him on the hand, saying “you’re welcome, buddy.” That broke the ice between us.

Back home, I was back being inspected and yelled at. Life was back to normal. Jerry told me that my time in that dungeon took care of all the brig time I had accumulated, but it didn’t take long before I was back in our brig again, back in the Darbys.

Soon I noticed extra items being delivered to my home. Jerry had assumed the role I had been doing by purchasing items on the internet. The first was a small cage such as I was put in at the dungeon. Jerry said that the closet wasn’t punishing enough. I soon started experiencing that cage. This was followed by a series of other devices. Jerry was starting to put together a dungeon of our own. I had no illusions about who was paying for all this.

One of the items that arrived was a rubber suit. This was so thick and stiff that it could almost stand on its own. Jerry told me that he had one of his buddies who was still in the Marines acquire it and send it to him. Jerry also said that he got it to fit my size so it would be tight, but that rubber expanded. When I tried getting into it, I did indeed find it to be tight. I could hardly move in that, since it was so thick and stiff, but Jerry said that it would soften with use. I realized that Marines needed gear for use in the water, so rubber was a natural, but this seemed to be too much. That’s when I saw on the label that it was designed for use in the Arctic.

At breakfast the next morning Jerry said that he wanted me to wear that suit when at home so I would lose some weight. I didn’t realize that I needed to lose weight and told him so. He replied that he wanted me to get into better physical condition, that I should be able to move easily in that suit, but I didn’t seem to be able to. I didn’t object to improving my physical condition, so I agreed.

The next item to arrive was a thick rubber hood with only two little pinholes at the nostrils. Jerry told me that he wanted me to wear that as well when at home. It had no eyeholes, so I would be blind when I would wear it. And I wondered why the two little pinholes for breathing. At breakfast the next morning I asked Jerry why he wanted me to wear that hood. He replied that he wanted me to build up my lung capacity, that he would be getting a gas mask with a long hose which would require me to use some muscle to breathe air through that combination. I thought I had good lung capacity, but I again agreed.

It was when Jerry locked that metal collar around my neck over the rubber suit and hood that I realized that my breathing was severely restricted. That was when I had to start using some strength to get air into my lungs. Jerry told me that he expected my chest size to start expanding due to wearing that at home. When the gas mask arrived, I found that I had to double my breathing efforts.

Now I’m kept at home with my hands cuffed behind my back, wearing the rubber suit and hood, metal collar over the rubber, gas mask over the hood, shackles locked onto the ankles with a foot long chain between. Since I can’t see, I’m kept in the brig. Jerry had a lock installed on the closet door, so I can’t get out once inside.

On weekends I’m now marched around the area while wearing all of this, except for the ankle shackles. On the good side, I’m getting lots of exercise, am losing weight, am improving my stamina, and my chest is indeed expanding. Jerry’s changes are improving my physical condition. But with the change I’m finding that my clothes are getting tighter in my upper body.

On some special days, like Veterans Day, the 4th of July, and Memorial Day, Jerry requires me to be dressed in my Marine dress blues all day. I still enjoy wearing these. He also has dress blues, but his are of a different kind, ones made for an officer. His have a stiff white-collar liner. I’ve wondered what it would be like to have something like that. When I happened to find some of those for sale on e-Bay, though ones that were higher like people used to wear in the 19th Century, I decided to purchase a set of them.

When they arrived I showed them to Jerry and told him I wondered what it would feel like to have one worn inside my dress blue collar. He got a wry smile on his face, and said that the next time I would be wearing it for the day, he would put one inside my collar for me to see. He must have been thinking how amusing it would be, because he decided that the coming Saturday he would have me wear my dress blues for the day.

It was one of the days when I would be marched for most of the day. Jerry told me to put the uniform on first, and he would slide the stiff white collar inside the uniform collar after it was on. He chose to wear his officer’s uniform that had the stiff white collar liner. When he started working my collar inside, I started realizing my mistake. With the addition of the collar liner, my collar became extremely tight. Also, the stiff high liner was poking hard into both the bottom of my chin and into the bottom of my neck. It quickly became painful. The stiff white collar was so tight it was able to be overlapped.

Jerry just smiled, told me I looked great with the white sticking a short distance above my uniform collar, and called me to attention. He marched me out to the car, had me sit stiffly at attention, all the time the collar liner causing me problems, while he drove me to the area we used for drills. From then on for the rest of the day, I was ordered around. My neck was on fire. I couldn’t wait to get that collar liner out of my uniform. But Jerry was clearly enjoying my discomfort. Several times he had to order me to raise my shoulders, suck in my stomach, and bow my neck as I looked straight ahead. He knew what pain that caused me. His sadistic side came out clearly that day.

When I took off the uniform that night, there were angry red circles around the top and bottom of my neck. I hoped they wouldn’t show when dressed for work, but figured that the high, stiff collar I now always wore to work would cover them. At breakfast the next morning, dressed for work with the angry red marks safely covered by my collar, Jerry asked if I wanted to continue wearing the stiff white collar liners with my dress blue uniform, since he could get more of them. I replied that I thought I would stick with the standard uniform. He smiled at my carefully worded answer.

I didn’t know where Jerry had gotten my shirts from, but with my expanding upper body, they were now skin-tight, if not pushing into my skin. One breakfast I told Jerry that my shirts were getting to be too tight. He looked over at me, and said, “they look perfect.” Jerry seemed to be getting more sadistic as time was passing.

More devices kept arriving for our growing dungeon. One of them was a horizontal wooden box. It was rubber lined, with extra rubber to put on top of me when inside. There was also a hole for the gas mask hose to fit through to the outside. The lid closed with hinges, and could be locked. The box was exactly my height with my feet and head pushing against the rubber lining, and the height of the box was just right when my chest was expanded. One Friday night Jerry locked me into it while I was dressed as usual in my rubber suit and hood with gas mask, hands cuffed behind my back and ankles shackled. He added additional rubber to fill the box, and closed and locked the lid. I had no idea how long I would be staying in the box.

What I didn’t know until afterwards was that Jerry had a local reunion with his buddies, and was gone the whole weekend. I got a lot of sleep, sweated buckets, and lost weight. I was also bored stiff. Jerry sometimes pulls these little surprises on me.

It wasn’t until Monday morning at breakfast, after I’d cleaned up after finally being let out, that he told me about his reunion. He had gotten roaring drunk, and now had a bad hangover. I was glad that he hadn’t been controlling me when he was like that, because I’ve learned that he is a mean drunk. So in retrospect, I appreciated his consideration in locking me safely away.

I haven’t meant to ignore the combination Darby cuffs and the punishments. I still accumulated the punishments. And being dressed in that rubber suit and the hood, gagged as well, with that metal collar pushing the rubber into my neck, having the combination Darbys on behind my back was even more intense. And now, instead of being in the closet, I was kept in the little cage in what was becoming our dungeon. This punishment was now real punishment. I looked back fondly on my time in the closet.

When I’d get home from work, I usually smelled alcohol on Jerry’s breath. My time at home was becoming more and more difficult for me. It seemed like I was always now being punished. Jerry would fuck me now while I was still in my shirt and tie before I got into the rubber, since there was no way he could access my ass with that on. It started becoming a part of our daily lives.

Finally at one breakfast, I asked him what was wrong. He, of course, didn’t understand my question. I told him that he was now drinking every day, and that was a sign of trying to escape a problem he was having. He replied angrily that he didn’t have a problem, and to mind my own business. I expected this response, but I’d planted the seed. I wondered how he would deal with it.

It wasn’t until a week later that he finally said something at breakfast. “My mother has cancer. She wants me to come stay with her to take care of her.”

I replied that I was sorry to hear that, and that if he needed to be gone, he should do so, that family came first.

He replied, “I know you need someone to keep you in line, so I’ve asked one of my Marine buddies to move in here while I’m gone.” That surprised me. I didn’t even know this guy, and now he was going to be living here.

“Who is he? Do I know him?”

“No, you haven’t met him yet. He’s even more strict and intense than I am. You should get along fine with him.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but obviously Jerry had set everything up, so I didn’t have a choice. When I got home that night, the new guy was there waiting. Jerry had been filling that guy in on what he’d been doing, so he was familiar with the routine. Immediately I was called to attention for inspection. As usual, a speck was found on my clothes so Jerry could declare additional punishment. I was quickly down on the floor for my ass to be accessed. But this time I had two of them to serve, and whereas Jerry’s cock was easy to deal with, this new guy’s was not. It was huge, in proportion with his size.

He commented afterwards that he needed to loosen my ass. Soon I had a massive metal butt plug worked up my ass. When I stood up I noticed the difference, since it was touching my prostate. The new guy took over and marched me into the bedroom to change into my rubber and restraints. But he had some changes. Instead of the usual handcuffs that Jerry used, this guy had some that were quite severe. They locked my wrists together. To get them on, he had to put a leather strap around my arms above my elbows, pulling the strap as tight as he could to bring my arms down close enough together to screw the cuffs on my wrists.

The ankle shackles he put on were also quite severe, several inch high steel with a massive connecting chain. I quickly realized that my life was going to become much more difficult. My shoulders very soon started aching from the awkward position my arms were forced back to by those cuffs. After everything was on, the guy called me to attention and left me standing there. I could periodically hear a small sound nearby, so I figured he was waiting for the least little slacking from the erect attention I was in to be able to pounce. I tried as best I could to maintain an erect attention, but after almost two hours, my shoulders were killing me, and I finally moved a bit.

Immediately the guy pounced. I soon found myself on the floor in a hogtie. I was told to maintain that position for the night, that a camera was positioned on me and would take a picture every hour, so that if I moved even an inch, it would be detected. The guy left the dungeon at that time to join Jerry in relaxing and watching television.

At breakfast the next morning, after getting very little sleep due to my aching shoulders, I thanked Jerry for the attention he had given me with the resulting improvements, and wished his mother well in her battle. He said goodbye, since his bag was packed, and he was soon gone. That’s when the new guy read me the riot act. I was now never to speak at home, not even at breakfast. I was to be periodically inspected while at work to make sure that my posture was appropriate, as well as my dress. He would drive me to work and pick me up. I suddenly realized that I would not even be able to pick up a bite of dinner on the way home.

The time taken to get out of my work clothes and into my rubbers would be severely limited, and timed. I would have to rush to do that quickly. My time in the morning to get out of my rubbers and take care of the morning ablutions would also be timed and limited, so I’d have to rush to do those. Also, when in the car going to and coming from work, I was to be kept bound and gagged, with that metal collar on. I would now be taken that way to my desk, the restraints only taken off when I was seated. I would also be required to wait at my desk for him to arrive, put the restraints on, and march me out to my car for the ride home.

I was shocked! My co-workers would see me marched in to work in cuffs and collar, as well as gagged. At least the guy would be dressed in his Marine uniform when he did that. I was going to have to think up something to tell my co-workers. But immediately after telling me this he called me to attention. He had the restraints and gag ready, those severe ones he now put me in, and I was quickly marched out of my home to my car, shoulders barely recovered before they started hurting again.

He inspected my posture after I’d sat down on the passenger side of my car. Satisfied, he got into the driver’s side and took off. He knew where I worked, and was able to take the proper route. When we arrived, I could see some of my co-workers arriving as well. He came out of his side and opened my door. He ordered me out and started loudly marching me into the building. Needless to say, my co-workers were quite surprised at the sight.

I was shocked to see my boss waiting at my desk for me to arrive. I started thinking of something to tell him. He stood aside while this guy had me sit down, and removed my restraints. After that, he turned to my boss, shook hands, and greeted him as an old friend. I realized why my boss was waiting there. I also was relieved from the shock of seeing my boss see my strange arrival. The two walked away to the boss’ office to start visiting. Keeping an erect posture, I started working, ignoring the marks on my wrists. None of my co-workers said anything to me, though I got some strange looks.

As lunchtime was approaching, my boss called me into his office. As soon as I was inside with the door closed, he called me to attention. I didn’t expect that. Now I was getting it at work as well. My boss said, “Harold and I are old friends from the Marines. He told me your set-up at home, and that he is filling in for your live-in drill sergeant while he is caring for his sick mother. He asked me to make sure that you are maintaining a strict regimen while at work. I will be not only checking your work, but periodically checking your posture and dress, as well as the neatness of your work area. Harold is a very tough taskmaster, and I am to report any problems I see to him. I would also like to add, I’ve been noticing the changes in you in the last couple of years, and I’m glad to see the improvements. Now for the first inspection.”

My boss came over to me and started inspecting me. He finally reached over and yanked my tie extra tight. “I’m surprised Harold didn’t catch that. He always wants the knots in ties to be formed extra tight and pulled as tight as possible against the neck. That’s all. Dismissed.”

I was glad to know that my boss was aware and approved, though I now had another to inspect me. I felt like I was perpetually under a microscope. I got lunch at the company cafeteria as usual. A couple of my co-workers took the opportunity to join me and ask what was going on. I told them I had been living with a former Marine drill sergeant who had to leave to care for a sick mother, and that he had arranged for this new guy to replace him while he was away. This new guy had ideas of his own, which you saw this morning with my arrival, and will see again tonight with my departure. The new guy and my boss are old friends, and my boss is now to periodically inspect me and report back to the new guy.

My co-workers both shook their heads in sympathy. One of them finally asked the obvious question. It’s your home, so why don’t you kick them out?

I replied with the obvious answer. I don’t because I like being treated that way. Again, my co-workers shook their heads, this time from not understanding me and my desires.

Now they’re used to the way I leave work as well, first put into restraints, then called to attention and marched out to orders. They don’t understand why, but they consider it part of who I am. I’m actually starting to enjoy this new guy and his way of taking me to work and back.

This new guy keeps the massive butt plug up my ass. It makes marching and sitting interesting. I only wish that I could have my chastity removed so I could enjoy it when the plug touches my prostate. The plug is only out when he makes use of my ass or for the morning dump. The new guy has also taken to strapping me to the chair for meals. When sitting at the table for meals, I’m to continue looking straight ahead and not start eating, even after the food is set before me, until he gives me permission. I’d heard of military academies doing that, and apparently he picked that up from them. It’s further discipline.

I overheard Harold talking to Jerry on the phone, telling him the changes he’d made to the routine. Jerry was most surprised to hear about the way I’m now taken to work and back. At the end of the conversation I heard Jerry say, “I’ve decided that when I return I’ll keep the changes you’ve made.”

My life is now extremely structured. I am not allowed any deviation from it. Since I continue allowing this to be done, I obviously want it. It’s not the life most would want. But I’m satisfied with it. It’s making me a better person. I’ve even had one of my co-workers ask if he could join me. As he put it, he’s seen the changes in me and wants to improve himself. I told him that it’s a 24/7 lifestyle, very structured, and that he’ll have to move into my home. He told me he could see that bondage was involved, something he wanted. I also told him about the Marine uniforms, and he told me he’d also purchased some on e-Bay. He got permission from Harold when I was being restrained for departure one night. He’s to arrive tomorrow. I’ve become a role model for at least one other.

Harold has come to work a couple of times to join me for lunch at the cafeteria. As at home, I’m required to sit erect in the chair, looking straight ahead, food in front of me, until Harold joins me and gives me permission to eat. I’m also marched to orders to the cafeteria and back. It gives my co-workers something else to talk about me. I don’t care. I figure they’re being envious.

Today Harold at lunch told me that he and my boss were going to the local club to socialize with former Marine buddies tonight. He’s given my boss the restraints to put on me after I finish work that I’m normally kept in at home. I’m to be kept restrained to my chair while they are away, picked up after they’d finished to take me home, probably at around 22:00. I would have no dinner. Harold also told me that this will start becoming a weekly occurrence, and that I’m to maintain an erect posture while restrained in my chair during that time. Harold told me that another former Marine friend of his worked there in another capacity, and would periodically be by to make sure that I was maintaining my erect posture.

I realized that I was starting to become under that microscope not only at home, but also at work. There would be no slack time at all for me. But it’s the life I’ve chosen for myself. I was going to have to think of something to occupy those seven hours when I will be sitting here, posture erect, looking straight ahead tonight, arms cuffed tightly together behind my back and strapped to the chair, my shoulders aching from that. It was summer, and the air conditioning is turned off at night in the building, since normally nobody is there except the janitor. I finally realized that the janitor must be Harold’s former Marine buddy, so I’ll have to make sure to be in my best posture when I hear the janitor starting his rounds.

But I also realized that I was going to have to stop thinking about that and return my concentration to my work, since my boss would be checking that. I also had to remember to maintain an erect posture when I was concentrating on my work. My life has become one of focusing on those specific items when at work, and on keeping up my uniforms and posture when not at work, as well as serving Harold’s needs. It’s an extremely disciplined life.

 

The End

Metal would like to thank the author, Mister-X/Spartan, for this story!

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5 thoughts on “Living an Extremely Disciplined Life”

  1. I really loved the story, specially the part about structure, micromanagement, discipline. Personally I do not like stories focused in sex. I would love a part II or another similar story (and to have this fantasy in real life too).

  2. As always, I love your stories. The themes of constant and complete control are the best. Sometimes bondage is not only needed but restrictions too. Your stories highlight the restricted life as much as the bound. Thank you!

  3. Hi Metal!

    Please, do you know where I can ask for the contact of “Mister X Spartan”? (I’m asking you because I don’t know if he still reads these comments, but I’d love talking with him about this amazing story).

    Thank you.

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