Based on a true story. NOTE: This is a follow-up to Thunder’s story, called “James.” To start at the very beginning, click here.
My name is Rex. I am a 33-year-old man who has seen a fair bit of kink in his lifetime. I am an athletic, handsome, previously hairy (but that’s not an option anymore), reporter based in Atlanta. I am a high-profile, well known (if you have an Instagram you’ve seen me), driven man in my professional life, but in my personal life, I am, well, I am a beta dog slave — and I couldn’t be happier.
If you’d have told me this was my future three months ago I would have laughed. But here I am, shorn from my heavy neck collar to the chastity belt forever locked on my crotch. My ass is filled with a locking plug. Sir must have something special planned for today because it is quite a bit larger than normal.
My dick, well, Sir’s beta dick, is completely encased in metal. I haven’t felt it in three years. I haven’t seen it in two, but I know it’s still there because it never stops struggling against its confinement. The cage has been a dream, it’s from Steelwerks and great at keeping me clean but when I do need to be hosed down I’m completely bound and hooded. The PA keeps me honest, but truth be told the thought of disappointing my Sirs is all the motivation I need to stay chaste. Did I say, Sirs? Yeah, there’s a couple.
It had started innocently enough. I met my master when I was 23 and just getting started in the reporting world. I worked the grunt hours, 10 p.m. to 6 a.m., and even with everything going on in Atlanta, I had a lot of downtime, downtime that I was frequently spending more and more on Recon with. I’d been tied and tied a couple of guys myself. But encounter after encounter I was left feeling like we were just playing parts. I was too young to realize it, but what I wanted was my job to be the play and the submission to be the reality.
I was stuck in purgatory. I deeply desired to submit, but I loved my career too. I tried vanilla dating, but the sex just wasn’t enough for me. Then I saw my Master’s profile.
It was the first profile in a while that piqued my interest. He was in his early 50s and experienced, recently single due to what he called willful disobedience. What stood out to me, he wanted a slave boyfriend. I had never heard or thought that was an option. He had no face pic but was obviously lean and handsome. I was trying to break into TV, so I’d hidden mine as well. Still, something about my hairy six-pack must have caught his eye, because after I cruised him I got a message within an hour. Instant chemistry.
Years later we were still together, but things hadn’t been great. My Master also happened to be one of the wealthiest people in Atlanta, no small feat. On the outside I just looked like arm candy, but the connections I made propelled my career skyward. My success had gone to my head and the thought of coming home to my Master just wasn’t as enticing as staying out all night. For his part, personal feelings were getting in the way of truly disciplining me.
He looked for outside help and found it. I had been partying for days before realizing that all of my credit cards had been canceled. I stormed back home full of righteous fury, but before I could say one word his presence silenced me. He reminded me of how things used to be when I served him. He listed all the ways I had failed him, each one felt like a slap across the face. He grew quiet before saying that this was going to end one way or the other, either I would submit to be retrained or pack my bags.
Within an hour I found myself stripped, hooded, gagged and caged, headed to parts unknown.
For next part, click here
Note: To start at the very beginning of this series, you’ll want to read Thunder’s story, titled “James,” by clicking here. Also check out James — 2019 Review, Metalbond Q&A: Thunder and Every Dog Has His Day.