By Doug UK

Everyone who knew Tom or Bernie thought they lived a respectable, almost straight, life together. Tom dressed in immaculate business suits every day for his job at the bank; and Bernie, the elementary school teacher, in his smart casual clothes. During the working week, they went about everyday life just like every other smart dull couple in the city.

Perhaps their colleagues noticed that neither Tom nor Bernie had much interest in a social life outside of work, and never socialised at the weekend; but they didn’t see anything unusual about this. Most guys who worked hard during the week, needed some chill out time at the weekends, and Tom and Bernie certainly knew how to chill out!

The boys’ normal routine came to an abrupt halt on Friday afternoons. Bernie always got home first, and began preparations for Tom’s return; by the time Tom got home, Bernie had prepared himself.

When he walked into their home on Friday afternoon, Bernie’s heart always fluttered a little in anticipation of the hours to come. He would undress fully and shower, then go naked down to the basement. Slowly he eased himself into his tight full body rubber suit, and entered the cage. He would lock the huge padlock at the cage door, and throw the key across the basement floor, well beyond his reach. He would put on his gag, locking it with a small snap fastening padlock, and then do the same with his blindfold. Keys for the small padlocks hung on hooks on the wall outside the cage. Without access to the keys, he would remain gagged and blind until Tom came home. He would simply sit and wait. He knew every inch of the small cage as he had spent many, many weekends in it, and even with the blindfold on, he felt his way easily to the metal chair, and rested his hands on the small metal table. Under the table was his mattress, where he had slept for many nights, and he touched it with his toe, as if for reassurance that it was still there.

When Tom arrived, he knew his lover would be locked in the cage, gagged and blind, but he didn’t immediately go down to the basement. He would shed his city suit and shower just as Bernie had done, and pull on his leather: shirt, breeches and tall boots. He would breathe the heady smell of the leathers before heading for the basement. Bernie, in the darkness of the blindfold, would hear the heavy tread of Tom’s boots on the basement steps.

Without a word, Tom turned to a small table just outside the door of the cage. He picked up the cup with the dice and shook it. Tom spoke, “First shake of the dice.” Bernie could hear the single dice rattling, and then the silence as Tom tipped it onto the table. There was silence as Bernie waited for Tom to speak.

“A three. That’s an odd number, so it’s bondage, lover.” Bernie nodded silently, waiting for the next roll of the dice. “Second shake of the dice,” said Tom quietly.

“A five. Odd again. So the blindfold stays on.” Bernie nodded again, impatient for the third roll of the dice.

“Ready, lover?” asked Tom. Bernie nodded. Tom shook the dice, and rolled it onto the table a third time. “It’s a three,” said Tom. “The prisoner will be put into his straightjacket, all straps pulled as tight as possible.” Bernie nodded once again, and his cock stretched to its full erect position.

Tom found the key on the floor where Bernie had thrown it, unlocked the padlock, and entered the cage. He removed the gag from his lover’s mouth and kissed him long and hard. “Are you OK, lover?” he asked, and Bernie, able to speak for the first time, replied, “Yes, thank you. And ready for the weekend.” This phrase had always been their safe-code. Only when he was feeling seriously unwell had Bernie said, “Not ready” – and that had been very rare.

Bondage meant that Bernie would remain in the cage for the whole weekend, and blindfolded and being encased in the straitjacket, his weekend would be difficult. Without sight, he would have to find his food bowl and without hands he would have to eat like a dog. “We’d better get you cathetered,” said Tom, and pulled Bernie’s erect cock out of his rubber. Bernie stood still whilst Tom fetched the external cath and rolled it onto his lover’s cock, then connected it with its short tube to the leg bag which he secured around Bernie’s knee. “OK, lover, you can piss any time you want!”

“Thanks Tom,” replied Bernie.

“I’ll get you into the straightjacket now,” said Tom. It was always harder for both of them when the dice dictated that Bernie keep the blindfold on. Harder for Bernie to do anything, and much more for Tom to do, to keep his lover in the bondage that the dice required.

The boys had a collection of top quality gear, and the straightjacket was one of their best items. It was full leather, with wide thick straps, and several padlocks. Bernie held his arms forward, and felt the enclosing leather pulling over the rubber of his body suit. Tom strapped his arms first, then pulled the wide strap under Bernie’s crotch, and heaved it as tight as his could.

Tom kissed his lover again, then left the cage, locking it behind him. Bernie turned and carefully located the chair. Without his eyes or hands, he had to be careful how he sat, and keep his orientation which way he was facing, and where the table and bed would be.

Upstairs, Tom began to make supper. In the basement Bernie waited in the black darkness of the blindfold, his hands pressed into his sides, his crotch pulled by the thick strap, and relaxed into the bondage he knew he would endure for the next two days.

That first shake of the dice was always a thrill for Bernie. An odd number for bondage, and even number for slavery. With bondage, Bernie knew he could continue to call his lover Tom, but should the dice roll an even number, than it would be “Sir” for the whole weekend.

Once the dice had ruled “bondage” for the weekend, the next roll decided the blindfold. An even roll the second time meant that the blindfold would be removed, making at least some of the bondage positions fairly easy to live with.

The third roll of the dice determined the kind of bondage Tom would put Bernie into for the weekend. Rolling “one” meant being strapped into the rigid sleepsack, strapped down tightly on the bondage board, with no movement whatsoever. This was mummification for the weekend, and always a challenge for Bernie.  Rolling “two” also put Bernie into the sleepsack, but it wasn’t tied down to the bondage board, and although it was a struggle, Bernie had some movement. Rolling “three” was his current predicament, the straightjacket; and “four” was in the rubber suit, with handcuffs behind his back.  Rolling “five” appeared to be the easy option. Bernie, in the rubber, would simply be handcuffed with his hands in front, but in this option, a steel chastity belt would be locked onto his cock, so however much he tried to rub it, he could not get erect. Finally, there was “six”; as a masochist, Bernie both hated and longed for “six”.

“Six” meant his heavy steel collar, with chains to his heavy steel wrist manacles, and heavy ankle cuffs; short heavy chains, preventing him from standing erect. And with all this weight of steel, a tight heavy ball weight to make every movement painful.

Bernie became alert hearing Tom’s footsteps on the stairs. Unlocking the cage, Tom came in with his lover’s supper. “Steak and chips, Bernie,” he said, “I’ve cut up the steak; and your suck bottle’s filled with Mountain Dew.”

Tom put the dinner bowl and the suck bottle on the table. “Sleep well, bondage boy!” he said hugging Bernie. Pulling the cage door behind him, he padlocked it again. As he went up the basement stairs, he snapped off the light; although the tight blindfold meant that Bernie was already in complete darkness. Carefully Bernie sniffed to find the bowl of meat and chips and slowly started to eat, putting his face into the bowl and finding the food without seeing it.

He loved his bondage weekends, but on Friday evening, at the start of his challenge, he felt as though the next two days would stretch to infinity, and he worried every week that he’d never make it through to Sunday.

Of course, the first roll of the dice could equally be an even number, and his weekend would be spent in slavery, out of the cage, but naked and collared. If the first dice was even, Tom would unlock his gag and blindfold, and he would climb out of his rubber suit and Tom would lock him into his wide slavery posture collar. A weekend of slavery meant severe restrictions on speech, not using the furniture, and being ready at all times to kneel for this master. The slave would sleep on the floor of master’s bedroom, invited into master’s bed for sex, but then ready to return to the floor. The second roll of the slavery dice decided chastity: an odd number would mean a chastity device for the weekend, and an even roll and his cock would hang free.

The third slavery roll would decide his duties for the weekend. “One” would put him in the kitchen, preparing all the meals, and every other kitchen duty. Bernie regarded this as the easiest option of the weekends spent under the rule of the dice; he enjoyed cooking, and doing it naked was no hardship.

Rolling “two” made him into a toilet slave, kneeling before his master, his posture collar ensuring that his mouth was at the ready for every drop of his master’s piss. Rolling “three” and he became a dog for the weekend, paws locked onto his hands, crawling on his knees, and speechless save for a few moments of barking.  When the dice rolled to “four” he was the boot slave, polishing all his master’s boots with his tongue.

Rolling a “five” or a “six” when he was in slavery mode were rather different. “Five” meant he was a blind slave. His blindfold would be locked on, and he would have to be ready to blindly serve his master in whatever way his master required. “Six” meant he would be gagged, and silent for the entire weekend, again ready to serve his master in any way required.

Tom and Bernie had recently been reviewing the slavery rules of the dice, mainly because slavery had gradually become too easy an option for Bernie, and he would reach Sunday without the buzz of masochistic satisfaction given him by bondage. Tom, if he was honest, was a little bored by being “master”, and as the first roll of the dice was always done with Bernie blindfolded, he had been tempted on occasion to lie to his lover, and tell him an odd-bondage number had come up even if it was actually an even-slavery number.

Once he’d eaten the dinner, or as much of it as he could find blind, Bernie carefully felt with his tongue for the suck bottle, and sucked eagerly on the Mountain Dew. Sitting back, he felt the need to piss, and simply did so, knowing that the catheter and piss bag would take care of everything until the morning.

Moving awkwardly in the straightjacket, Bernie wriggled onto the floor and crawled under the table to his sleeping mattress. As usual, it took a while for him to find a comfortable position, but gradually he drifted to sleep, a smile on his lips. Upstairs, his lover, lay back on their bed in his leathers and prepared for a long luxurious wank, happy in the knowledge that his bondage boy was sleeping securely below.

On Sunday evening, it all came to an end. Whatever the dice had dictated, however Bernie and Tom had spent the last two days, everything finished on Sunday evening. Bernie would be released, and the pair make a quiet dinner together, with a bottle of wine. Somehow their weekends ruled by the dice made their lives seem complete, and they would kiss and cuddle like vanilla lovers, knowing that come next Friday, it would all start again.