By BootDeputy

CHAPTER THREE – OBJECTIVITY

The truck ride wasn’t long but went a slow pace most of the way. After They parked, My Owner turned and pulled me out of the truck. He got behind me and buckled the collar attached to the jacket.

“I like doing that part Myself.” He moved His hand to the back of my neck from my shoulder with a firm grip before stepping around in front of me and started walking. A length of chain, extending me to the palm of His hand, pulled me along.

I was led through a thin level trail of light-colored rocks surrounded by tall grass and trees. It was dark enough my range of visual awareness was limited to the line of contrast made by the rock meeting the grass. I concentrated on it as hard as I could without endangering my balance and stride, until I noticed light stretching out from ahead of us. A harsh orange and yellow light danced across the ground.

It grew brighter and allowed me to see the firepit as its source. A picnic table with some candles to the left of it and a tree just beyond that with flexible strands of light wrapped around the base and part way up the trunk. The lowest branch was long and thick, about 7 feet off the ground. It was an unexpected sight, and I stood there mesmerized by it until I felt the chain leash pull down on the collar.

I’ve been a submissive for as long as I could conceive what it meant. When you think about something like that for so long you eventually start adapting to behaviors and ideals associated to it. So when I responded to the chain pull by getting down on my knees and looking down at my Owner’s boots, I think I did right based on His hand caressing the top of my rubbered head.

“That’s good. That’s very good. A response like that tells me it’s smart, and I’ll bet it can understand that when a gag is taken out of it, that doesn’t mean it has permission to speak. Nor when told to open its mouth, the option of speaking comes with it. There are no options here. And that is what will be practiced tonight; an object will exist as an object no matter the setting or environment it is placed in,”

“Tonight, the object will be My utility gimp and will learn what that entitles as the night goes on. If it needs to piss, widen its stance or legs if able to do so. If it can’t move the legs, then just piss as needed for tonight. I don’t want it distracted from its purpose, and it is important that it’s able to do so mentally and physically.”

His hand started to tug at the strap of the gag, pulling it deeper into my mouth. I suddenly had to control a gag reflex but had to focus on what He was telling me. His boots were a nice smooth oil-tanned black leather. Four straps decorated them; three on each outer side where a lateral boot strap would be, and one mid-strap between the tongue and instep

“If gimp needs to adjust its position to carry out orders through the night, do so on its own accord, and We will maneuver around it. If it’s not in a position to be able to do that, endure and trust that I know what I’m doing when I put it in any such position. Otherwise, this is a chance for it to meditate on how it should see itself and ways to do so more effectively when in stasis. Of course, it is ultimately something we accomplish together. I do care for my property and will encourage it to be the best. I want to make sure that is known. Nod if it understands what I am saying.”

I nodded, I clung to each word as my eyes froze on His boots. “Good. Now I’m removing this gag, and it will open the mouth and take My piss.” He adjusted his uniform before reaching back for the gag.

The gag was suddenly out, and I made sure I didn’t close my mouth before He had a chance to use it. He pulled my head up to meet His thick cock. I studied it as He pissed on my face and in my mouth.

The balls were large, potentially a subtle amount of silicone in them. More in the balls than the cock, which, well, wasn’t as thick as a beer can but it sure was the first thing you’d think of when you see it. About 6 inches in flaccid length. I usually prefer when I’m able to fit the whole cock in my mouth.

(HIS urinal) echoed inside my head.

Right, I’m supposed to be an object gulping piss right now, not thinking about what I prefer or what I think or want, and I’m just not feeling the urgency to escape that I probably should feel. What I did feel was an anticipation, almost like a drive.

These kinds of lifestyles can happen but traditionally with communication and giving consent from the sub to practice Submission and understand Surrender with whatever family system that found the sub.

His stream started to slow, pooling on my tongue instead of down the throat. He placed a hand on the back of my head.

But I believe there are also dark versions of the things we love and are drawn to in life. And what I do know is that I know nothing about this Man.

He pushed my face up to His big balls to make sure I didn’t miss anything. He filled so much of my mouth it was truly breathtaking. It tasted of salt and residual leather. The impulse to suck was so strong I almost dropped in composure.

“Oh yeah! Relax that mouth, gimp.” He pulled out of my mouth and pushed my head down at His boots. “I could feel the lips tighten for a moment but then release. Good to know that the difference between a toilet and a vacuum is still being taught.”

“Damn well coulda fooled Me. Being able to utilize that level of intelligence is lacking even in the walls of the university.” A deep voice that was light in tone, friendly and energetic sounded behind my Owner. I froze, stunned by the presence of someone new. His hand held my head firm down at His boots.

“Now remember, gag is currently out, it is currently MY gimp, act like it. Don’t embarrass its OWNER in front of HIS Friends. And know that I will be enjoying what happens to it tonight.” He shifted my gaze to HIS cock again as HE stuffed it in the cod piece HE had on under the jeans HE wore. Even with a layer of denim, the bulge was pronounced.

* * *

Dom got His gimp up off its knees and pulled it to the opposite side of the fire pit area that His body blocked from the gimp’s view. On a large square foundation with a dense padded surface stood two motorcycles parked in a V formation from their rear tires.

Gerard, the man behind Dom, was leaning against his bike, a glass bottled beer in one hand. A large specimen of a Man, nice thick layers of fur on muscle. Leather vest on top of a harness framed his chest. Arm binders struggling to contain his biceps. A rubber jock strap framed by leather chaps bulging around legs. Supported by a pair of tall harness boots.

Dom mirrored Gerard leaning against His bike and positioned His property on its knees again, so that it was flanked on both sides by the Men and Their steads.

Dom raised a gloved hand over to the driver of the truck who was waiting patiently in the cab. He grabbed a bag and brought it over to Dom who raises His hand in acknowledgement.

Gerard, who was watching the driver, turned from him to Dom and asked, “Who’s that one?”

“Just a temp, at least for now.” Dom replied he encouraged the gimp to lie on the back.

From its knees the Dom’s gimp leaned into a roll as it fell to get on its back, centering itself between the two Men closer. It shifted its back to lie in a more comfortable position and rested, catching its breath silently.

Gerard smirked and, without looking down, asked, “and this is the new object I assume?”

“Sure as shit.” Dom replied, lifting a heavy boot and placing it on the gimp’s sleeve-locked arm, rocking the figure, “New as in today, so there will of course be moments I have to acknowledge it for clarification. Like now is a good opportunity.”

Dom applied pressure to the gimp’s arm, harvesting its attention. “As a gimp, if there is a boot in or near its face, the impulse to worship and clean those boots is encouraged to be acted upon when able or otherwise instructed. My favorite part for it to clean is the tread, so get to know the pattern well.”

Gerard lifted his own boot and rested it against the cheek, and it reached for the black rubbered tread underneath.

“I brought those files by the way, dropped them off at the front house. Same packet as last time, helps make the heat on its search a low priority. There won’t be as much need to use department resources and expenses on a case like that one. Probably less than a year before commercialized travel with it. I have John and Adrian working on its new documents, still a few months for that but otherwise I got it all done once you fill it out.”

“Always appreciate it, brother. Not the most ideal life but hopefully, well, you know how I am.” Dom pulled out a thick envelope from the bag and held it out for Gerard, who shook his head in response.

“No, this one is on me. Honestly the cheapest one I put together, and you’re like a brother to me, Man. I also enjoy the company and opportunity to evaluate your property.” He winked at Dom.

“Amen to that. You sure as shit deserve that for a free packet,” Dom replied, genuinely positioning His other boot on the gimp as well.

He then pulled a beer out of His saddle bag and continued the conversation of catching up, and property management.

* * *

The weight that I bore by the two pairs of boots planted on my body was more than I had expected it to be. But I didn’t think about that so much as the boot that was obscuring most my vision, but the ability to lick it was almost too far to accomplish. I strained to reach past the weight of the boots that held me down.

The way the hood contained and enhanced the sounds I made while worshiping the boots limited my ability to catch much of their conversation. The Owner, who the other Man referred to as Dom, then rested his boot on the other side of my face. I was able to reach that tread much easier than the other one.

Fuck, this was really engaging. The part of me that wanted me to try to get out of this situation was getting quieter. How I felt or what I wanted slipped out of my mind.

Even though I haven’t committed to surrendering to this Man, the submissive part of me was desperate to. At this point there wasn’t any other part of me but this submissive being.  I have always embraced the identity of what He wants to turn me into, and the opportunity for it was here.  The head space of a gimp at work quickly consumed me, and I was no longer the man I was holding on to.

* * *

Dom is a Man with experience and noticed the change in body language and tone when his property shifted into the strange headspace and realm between consciousness and subconsciousness.

He had finished one beer and got up from his bike. “I’m going to go and check on things inside. The others just arrived and are going to set up by the tree. Feel free to make some good use of it. And we’ll strap it in once they set up.” Dom walked around the bikes and up the path to a sort of utility building made of concrete.

Gerard nodded and watched the gimp as it praised his boots. Black harness boots with a square toe. One at its mouth and the other digging the heel in its crotch. He stared at the collared gimp. Unmoving pupils hovering over a growing smile. Then he pulled his boots off of it.

“Alright gimp, back up on the knees.” Gerard helped the gimp up with the body language of the most caring father. “Alright, good height there, bring it in now.” Gerard pulled the gimp’s head to his crotch, supported by a rubber jockstrap.

“Now open the mouth and work on my bulge.” The gimp responded as ordered. Using the mouth to push and pull the rubber on and against his cock and balls. He inhaled and exhaled audibly. The bulge grew bigger. The sound of the rubber straitjacket and the feel of the rubber jock mixed in a powerful sensation.

Gerard thrusted the head of the gimp to his crotch and produced an aroused gasp. He swung a thick leg over the should locking it close in place. One muscled arm gripping the back of the head and the other working his own nipple as the harness rose and fell over the other one, teasing it.

He pulled the head back, breathing heavy. Leaning up off his bike, he saw the mouth stayed open.

“That’s a good toy. Always a plus when He gets one with prior training.” Gerard worked at the snaps of his codpiece, releasing his hog onto the gimp’s face. “Alright, keep still. Going to break the seal here so don’t drown in it.”

The gimp shifted the feet and steadied itself for the warm golden stream. Gerard watched as the piss gimp adapted to the flow and timed its swallows. Piss running down its face when the mouth filled. Drops of it fell to the padded foundation and on his boots.

“Mind the teeth now,” He ordered and pushed his cock into the gimp’s hole. Something about piss leaving one body and entering another without external exposure really turned Gerard on. His cock grew inside the hole. He could feel the gimp work to adapt.

While this was happening, on the other side of the firepit near the glowing tree, two more vehicles pulled up to it, and four men poured out of them. They started to throw some straps over the long, low branch

Gerard’s stream ended, and after the gimp swallowed the last of it he told the urinal to suck. It obeyed, giving that cock the respect and praise of someone that has gone too long without food. Gerard could tell that Dom was going to keep this one for a while at least. Something about this one felt good. Like it could dance with the idea of true submission and surrender and come back unharmed, and unaltered.

He leaned back against his bike and looked over at the arriving company. Two of the men waved at him, and he raised a hand back in acknowledgement.

Turning back to the gimp, he pulled his cock out and back into the jock. Then he spoke to it, “I’ve known the owner of the gimp for decades. I can share that that Man will be the best thing that will ever happen to it. And it’s important that it returns that in full. No matter what. It can refer to me as Uncle Bull. Now clean up what fell on my boots.” He guided the head down, allowing it to adjust the legs into a functional position.

He watched switching his gaze from the gimp cleaning the piss of his boots to the men that were setting up by the tree.

* * *

My ankles were starting to strain a bit while I licked the piss off Uncle Bull’s boots. I adjusted my legs to stretch out a bit behind me, almost putting me on my stomach and arms, which was fine. I’ll just swap those two positions so I can continue to clean the boots off.

But I was suddenly pulled back up to my knees again. The chain leash supported my ascent.

“Didn’t spoil it too much now did we?” It was my OWNER. I didn’t even notice when HE returned but I was still in my headspace so when HE pulled me up right, I leaned back into HIM and HE placed a hand on my head.

Honestly in that moment around total strangers (for the time being), I felt fulfilled. Almost like I had a family again which was probably insane.

“Alright, let’s get it in the chair,” Dom said with a subtle tone of excitement. And that made me a bit nervous again, but in a good way.

I noticed the other Man get up and pull a complicated chair out from behind the bikes. I was pulled up to my feet and positioned to sit in it. It was raised a few inches higher than a normal chair, but the two Men lifted me into place. My legs were then guided into some sort of braces that rested right up against my knees and shins. Two thick rubber straps placed underneath my arms bound me to the back rest that was essentially just a length of wood.

More straps were placed on the legs and ankles, as well as other adjustments I couldn’t see due to the hood. The final one was around my neck. My OWNER pulled my head back and a metal ring clasped it into place. This level of restriction was intense but executed properly that they provided support as well as restraint. That feeling of nervousness and excitement was cycling through me again.

Then I saw what was happening at the glowing tree across the firepit in front of me, and suddenly all I felt was fear. My breathing got heavy; a ball of heat exploded in my chest.

Before my brain could send the thought, “What the hell is going on?” to my mouth, a gag was shoved in attached to something that blocked the view of the tree. I started to moan in the gag, trying to keep a light, questioning tone even though I was desperate to understand what I saw.

Instead, a blindfold cut off the rest of my vision and I sat in darkness and fear. My moaning became a bit more desperate. This time my submissive side was the quiet one. I started to struggle in the chair.

“Looks like he got a gander at what’s across the way there. But boy do I love to see that struggle,” Uncle Bull said to my OWNER.

“A good look on a gimp. Ready?” HE replied and then the sensation of my weight falling and swung behind me. Suddenly I was in a kneeling position on padded leg braces.

My heart jumped and suddenly I was overwhelmed again. Even more so than waking up to Dylan. I really was starting to believe that these Men were people to look up to, even devote myself to serve, but when you glimpse at what were three filled sleepsacks suspended from a tree, you remind yourself that for most people there is always a part of them that is a stranger no matter how well you know them. How long were they going be hanging there? What was planned for me? The panic rose inside me.

“The gag in its hole is a funnel for all our urine throughout the night. The gag prevents gimp from cutting off the flow or dripping anything out. Try not to drown in the Piss of Man, toilet gimp. The night has just begun.”

My OWNER said this with encouragement, which made me feel more uneasy.

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