By ChrisTheHiker

Chapter 3: The House by the Sea

The motorbike weaves through the bends of the narrow Swedish roads. Fortunately, the rain has stopped, but the storm continues to rage. The bike wobbles with every gust of wind, yet Finn maintains complete control over the trajectory. I have actually never been on a motorbike in my life. I have thought about getting my licence several times—it would save me a lot of time getting into the centre of Milan—but in the end, the opportunity never arose. And I must admit that ever since a friend of mine from school had a serious accident, the after-effects of which he still suffers from, I have been quite anxious about motorbikes.

But not behind Finn. I can tell he is in complete control of his bike. And I can tell he is not riding to impress me. And yet I am impressed. Everything about him impresses me. Overwhelms me. Captivates me. On the back of this motorbike, my arms clinging to this tall, blue-eyed bloke in all leather, my legs spread and my crotch pressed against him, against the leather of his trousers, I think back to how I ended up here. On this motorbike heading towards an unknown destination, a chain padlocked around my neck. I don’t really have an explanation, other than that I felt the need to accept his offer to put me up and that I felt the need to get down on my knees in front of him when he asked me to. It just felt natural. And yet, even though I am usually a bit reserved by nature, I don’t even feel anxious; I feel calm and relaxed.

I have no idea where we are. We have been driving for a while now beneath these clouds that are sweeping across the sky without stopping. It is dark even though it is only late afternoon. Finn leaves the motorway and turns onto a road that soon runs along the coast. A raging sea, its waves lapping at the shore and crashing against the rocks again and again as if they were trying to break them.

A sign points to the town of “Stenungsund”, which appears to be a fairly large settlement. But instead of following it, Finn heads in the opposite direction and drives onto a bridge spanning an inlet. The road continues through a succession of bridges and causeways. The landscape is spellbinding. Wild, rugged, tempestuous. Here, one feels the full force of nature and the resilience its inhabitants must develop to survive.

After passing yet another island, Finn leaves the main road and turns onto a side road signposted “Svanvik”. We pass through a small village of about twenty houses and continue towards the sea. The motorbike slows down and turns onto a narrow track that winds through a forest. After a few minutes, the track opens out onto the coast and leads to a house perched on a rocky promontory, overlooking the sea. The waves seem determined to reach it but are held back by a small cliff a few metres high.

The motorbike pulls into the courtyard in front of the house. The garage door opens and Finn rides in. When he switches off the engine, the headlights go out and the garage goes dark. I get off the bike, quickly followed by Finn, who takes my arm and guides me outside. I feel the gusts of wind on my face; the smell of the sea fills my nostrils. Finn leads me to the main entrance. Two steps lead up to an outdoor porch where there are a few chairs and some plants.

From the outside, the house is stunning. Not huge, just two storeys with a large single-pitched roof. But it exudes a powerful presence. I can tell straight away that this is not just some run-of-the-mill prefab, but a proper architect-designed house, conceived to blend into this harsh environment. The rocky outcrop is actually a sort of peninsula, with the sea on three sides.

After pausing to let me take in the house and its surroundings, Finn gives me a nudge in the arm—which he hasn’t let go of—urging me to climb the steps. He opens the front door and leads the way inside. The lights come on instantly and I find myself in a large room bathed in soft light. The atmosphere is modern and warm. Oak flooring, white walls, features with metal and glass inlays. Finn’s business must be thriving; even in the depths of Sweden, a house like this can’t come cheap.

“Stop there,” says Finn as I have barely stepped out of the entrance hall.

Naturally, I stop in my tracks and watch as he takes off his leather jacket and hands it to me.

“Put it in the wardrobe.” I follow his gaze to a built-in cupboard on my right. I open it and pull out a hanger, onto which I carefully drape Finn’s jacket. A strong smell of leather fills my nostrils. Every jacket in this cupboard is made of leather. Every single one. There are even a few full-body suits.

I can feel Finn approaching me from behind.

“You like leather?” he asks me. “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to look at them up close. Now put your jacket away and close the cupboard,” he says, without giving me time to reply.

I do as I am told and hang my jacket on a hanger next to his.

“Now listen to me carefully, boy. Ever since I met you on the plane, I could see you had something special. Something you don’t find in many blokes. And my impression was confirmed when you knelt down in front of me in that car park and let me lock this chain around your neck.” His face is now right in front of mine, and he takes the chain in his hand. His blue eyes are so intense and his gaze so piercing that I feel as though he can read me like an open book.

I feel as though I am reliving the conversation we had in that car park, but even more intensely.

“You’ve made your choice, boy, and you won’t regret it, believe me.”

With that, he moves closer to me, takes my wrists in his muscular hands and pulls them behind my back. While keeping his grip on my wrists, he brings his mouth to mine and kisses me. Not a tender kiss, no, but a passionate one, as if he literally wanted to devour me.

My cock hardens in my trousers. I can smell him, a mix of leather and the scent of a man. The energy of the moment is intense; I want it to last. I want him to let go of my wrists so I can wrap my arms around his muscular waist, but he has other ideas.

After a moment that seems far too short to me, he lets go and steps back. He eyes me up and down, looking satisfied.

“Come on, boy, now get undressed. Keep only your underwear on,” he orders, crossing his arms over his chest.

I stand there a bit dumbly, not knowing what to do. My head is still a bit foggy from the passionate kiss Finn gave me. I feel like I am in one of those online stories where a guy happens to meet a dom and becomes his sub. But those are just stories; it never happens. How could he possibly know I am interested in domination and submission? Am I even really interested? Do I really want to strip in front of this guy I have only known for a few hours?

Even though I have never actually had any experience of that sort—and by that I mean BDSM play—I have been interested in it, and I’ve worked off quite a bit of the frustration from my break-up with Filippo by surfing the web and browsing all sorts of sites of that kind. But something’s niggling at me. In everything I have read and watched, the dom and the sub always agreed on their respective limits and a safeword before starting the play.

But not this time; we haven’t discussed a thing. I have not even the faintest idea what I am getting myself into or where this is heading.

As if he could read my mind, he moves closer to me, places both hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye.

“I know you’re a bit scared, and I understand. But think carefully. If you’re here now, if you’ve followed me this far, it is because you want to go further. But I promise you one thing, boy: you can tell me how you’re feeling at any time, and you can tell me if something’s wrong. I am really into you, boy, and I don’t want to hurt you; on the contrary, I am going to make you feel good, you’ll see.”

Throughout his whole speech, Finn did not take his eyes off me, as if his eyes were trying to read my mind.

My heart races; the touch of his powerful hands gives me goosebumps. I feel both protected by him and under pressure.

He finally steps back and crosses his arms over his powerful chest once more.

“So, boy, what do you say?”

He might be right. If I have followed him this far, if I have agreed to kneel before him in this airport car park, perhaps it is not for nothing. Deep down, I feel I can trust him. And that I want to continue being the protagonist of my own story, which is just beginning. I have no idea what his intentions are; maybe this will lead nowhere, maybe he will kick me out tonight, but I don’t want to regret just being scared when I am irresistibly drawn to this guy.

I finally make up my mind, and start by taking off my shoes, which I place near the entrance, then my sweatshirt, which I fold neatly and place on the floor next to my shoes. I then take off my T-shirt and put it in the same spot. I have never really done a striptease, not even for my exes in the privacy of a relationship, and I am not really sure if I should play a game, try dancing a bit, or if, on the contrary, that would be totally ridiculous. I decide to avoid looking ridiculous. I am already embarrassed enough as it is and I don’t want to make it worse.

“Mh, nice boy,” Finn whistles through his teeth, looking at my chest.

As I said, I am not muscular, but I would say I am quite toned. And I am actually quite proud that you can see my abs a bit.

I blush a little at Finn’s comment and instinctively cross my arms in front of me, as if to shield myself from his gaze.

“Come on, boy, carry on.”

I can feel my cock still hard in my trousers. I must not be that embarrassed after all, or maybe I actually like it…

I take off my socks and stuff them into my shoes, then I decide to unbutton my trousers and take them off a bit clumsily, staggering on the foot that is still on the ground while I pull the legs off.

As for underwear, I am wearing black Diesel briefs. I am not obsessed with briefs, but I find them more comfortable than boxers, and sexier for a guy like me.

As I sit up, I am not quite sure how to position myself. I feel like putting my hands in front of me, but I tell myself there is no point in playing the prude either. I am not 18 anymore; I understand the kind of arrangement Finn and I are getting into, and I have to own it. So I decide to stand right in front of him with my hands behind my back.

I can tell straight away from the look in his eyes that he likes it. He even lets a hint of surprise show.

“Very good, boy, very good.”

He eyes me up and down. It is the first time I have seen such desire in a guy’s eyes. I can tell that if he could, he would devour me whole. And it turns me on. All the more so because I want him too. I want to feel the grip of his muscular arms around my body, his lips on mine. I have never felt anything this strong for anyone before.

Finn approaches me after picking something up from the small hall table. He strokes my chest as he circles round me to stand behind me. He keeps one hand on my chest, and with the other grabs my wrists. I feel the touch of cold metal, then a series of clicks, first on my left wrist, then on my right. With impressive dexterity, Finn has just put a pair of metal handcuffs on me.

My heart is racing. Without a word, he gently pushes me back so that I am against the wall, then places a hand on my left shoulder and, gently but firmly, gradually presses down on it. It takes me a few seconds to realise he wants me to get down on my knees, and I do as I am told. He leans forward, slips his hand round my back, grabs the chain of my handcuffs and gently pulls on it. “Click”. Then he straightens up and faces me.

Not only are my hands tied behind my back, but he has secured the chain connecting them to the wall behind me. In the space of a few seconds, I find myself at this guy’s mercy. My cock is hard in my briefs, and I can tell from Finn’s expression that he has noticed it all too well.

“I’ll be back, boy,” he says, turning his back on me and heading up the grand staircase in front of me.

I am left there, alone, in my underwear, kneeling on the floor, my hands handcuffed behind my back, the handcuffs attached to a fixing point in the wall.

I’ve got goosebumps, even though the temperature in the room is quite pleasant—actually quite warm, if I compare it to my own home. But it is the situation that is giving me goosebumps.

When Finn comes back down the stairs, he is still wearing his leather trousers and ankle boots. However, he has taken off his T-shirt and is wearing only a bulldog chest harness. If I had suspected it under his tight-fitting T-shirt during the journey, I now have confirmation: Finn is athletic and works out. His bulging abs and pecs are evidence of rigorous and serious training.

In his hand, he holds a ball gag and several chains to which leather shackles are attached. And a piece of cloth.

“Welcome home, boy,” he says, staring at me with his piercing blue eyes.

He sets the equipment down on the floor in front of me and holds the gag up to my eye level.

“Right, boy, this is an essential piece of kit. Have you ever worn a ball gag before?”

“No, never.”

Finn crouches down in front of me, cups my chin in the palm of his hand and holds my head firmly, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“So, there are a few rules to follow in this house. I’ll spare you a formal run-through of this list; you’ll learn them as you go along, but the first of them is that from now on you’ll address me respectfully by saying ‘Sir’. If you’re in the presence of other people and you want to talk about me, then you say ‘Sir Finn.’ Is that understood?”

I try to take in the words he has just spoken. In the stories or videos you see online, I’d always found this sort of protocol a bit pompous, often rather fake and insincere. And above all, it didn’t turn me on.

But here, it is different. Finn exudes a natural authority that makes the question moot. It is not about whether it turns me on or not; it is simply a matter of doing as Finn asks.

“Yes Sir,” I reply, with a hint of hesitation in my voice, whilst still looking him straight in the eye.

“Very good, boy, you must always answer like that. Now I am going to repeat my question: have you ever been gagged with a ball gag?”

I think for a second to make sure I get it right.

“No, Sir, never.”

“Good boy,” he replies, loosening his grip and giving me two little pats on the cheek.

Then he grabs the gag straps, brings it up to my mouth and presses it against my lips. As soon as I open my mouth slightly, he forces it inside and, with great dexterity, locks it in place at the back in a matter of seconds. The ball is completely inside my mouth and keeps it open.

“To start with, I’ve chosen the medium size; I want you to feel comfortable. As you can’t speak, if anything’s wrong, you shake your head quickly from side to side, understood, boy?”

I nod up and down to show him I’ve understood.

“No, no, you can still answer.”

“Yeff Fir,” I try to say through the gag.

Once again, Finn gives me two little pats on the cheek as a sign of approval. He stands up and searches for something in the pocket of his leather trousers. He pulls out a small padlock, which he locks onto the back of my gag.

“You’ll soon realise that safety is a priority for me.”

He then leans behind me and removes the padlock that connected my handcuffs to the wall. He takes me by the left arm and once again pulls me firmly upright. With my hands still handcuffed behind my back, I stand up. Although I haven’t been kneeling for very long, my legs are a bit stiff and I struggle to find my balance.

“Take off your briefs and put on this jockstrap,” Sir Finn orders, throwing a blue jockstrap onto the floor.

Do I really want to strip naked like this in front of this guy? I am not particularly shy, but still…

“Come on, boy, don’t keep me waiting!” he adds.

Once again, I decide not to think about it too much, and I start to pull down my briefs, which isn’t an easy task with my hands handcuffed behind my back. I wriggle a bit until the only piece of fabric still protecting my private parts is on the floor. I find myself, handcuffed and gagged, completely naked in front of my seatmate on the plane.

My embarrassment stems mainly from my stiff cock, which stands out in front of me, aroused by the situation.

I bend down, pick up the jockstrap, pull it up my legs and put it in place. The chain from the handcuffs isn’t long enough for me to get everything sorted properly, so Finn, without further ado, grabs my cock and tucks it into the jockstrap, then adjusts the two straps at the back.

Then he takes some leather straps, fastens them to my ankles and locks them with two small padlocks. They are connected by a chain that seems long enough for me to walk, but short enough to restrict my movements. Finn then moves behind me and unlocks the handcuffs.

“Hands in front!”

I comply, rubbing my wrists, which are already a little sore from the contact with the metal. Then he does the same and fastens leather restraints to my wrists, also linked by a chain. An additional chain connects these two chains, preventing me from raising my hands higher than my chest.

Standing in front of me, Finn takes a key from his pocket, unlocks the padlock and removes the chain from around my neck. He then turns to fetch a leather collar, which he quickly slips around my neck and secures with a padlock. A chain is attached to this collar and linked to the chain of my wrist restraints. It is short enough to prevent me from stretching my arms out fully. The collar is quite wide, slightly restricting the movement of my head. And it is tight enough that I can feel it all the way round my neck, without it choking me.

Finn steps back and watches me.

“There you go, that is much better. That is your standard outfit when you’re at my place, boy. You’ll have noticed the house is well heated; that is because I like to make sure my boys are comfortable, but they’re rarely very much dressed…”

I look at the gear he has put on me. This isn’t cheap Chinese stuff. The leather restraints are quite wide, thick and padded. The chains are quite heavy and have some weight to them.

I give the chains a gentle tug to see what movements I can make. I would not say I am severely restrained, but my range of movement is still quite severely restricted.

“You’ll see, you’ll get used to it, boy.”

With that, he comes over to me and starts caressing my body with his beautiful, strong hands. Shivers run through me from head to toe. I start moaning through my gag, and my cock hardens in the jockstrap. Finn caresses my exposed arse and gives it a few slaps that take me by surprise.

“Come on, boy,” he says, taking me by the chain and leading me to the kitchen.

“After a journey like that, we’ve well and truly earned a drink.” He leads me into the kitchen and points out a few cupboards. “You’ll find the glasses here, the spirits are in the bar and the juices in the fridge, the food is in the pantry behind that door. As you’re Italian, I am sure you know how to make a Spritz. Make us two of those and something to eat for the aperitif; I’ll be waiting for you in the living room.”

I’ve never been particularly turned on by seeing guys acting as domestic slaves, but in a way I would have offered to help with the preparations anyway, even if he had not asked me. And I am getting more and more curious to see where all this is leading, and the sight of Finn’s muscular bare chest seals the deal.

“Yef Fir,” I reply through the gag.

With that, he turns and heads towards the living room.

I cannot really explain why, but I really want to please him, to make him genuinely happy with what I am going to bring him. I head to the storeroom first. I have a look at what is there to see what I could prepare for an aperitif; there is plenty of choice. I do not want to limit myself to just peanuts and a packet of crisps. I need to impress him.

I decide to make bruschetta. I gather the ingredients, start chopping the tomatoes, and toast the bread. My chains restrict my movements. I cannot raise my arms too high, nor lower them too far without having to bend double. It is a challenge, but I adapt. From time to time, I glance towards the living room. Finn is sitting on the sofa, with his back to me, facing the fireplace where he has lit a fire.

Once the bruschetta is ready, I quickly prepare the Spritz. It is a recipe I know well, but I know that the trend now, especially for people from the north, is to make them a bit stronger than the traditional recipe. So I decide not to add any sparkling water.

Once it is ready, I gather everything onto a tray and head towards the living room. My restraints prevent me from walking properly, and I take great care to avoid the disaster that would be spilling a tray.

I go round the sofa and gently set the tray down on the coffee table. Finn is sitting there, still bare-chested in his harness and leather trousers, legs spread apart. The posture of a confident guy.

“Oh oh, what have you got, good boy? Look at that, it all looks very nice,” he says with a sincere smile. “Come over here, get down on your knees,” he continues, pointing to a sort of square leather cushion laid out on the floor in front of him.

I kneel in front of Finn, who sits up on the sofa, picks up a small key from the coffee table and removes my gag. Even though the ball was not very big, I am relieved to be able to move my jaw again.

Finn moves closer, places his hand on the back of my head and kisses me. It feels like this kiss lasts for hours. My cock has been hard ever since Finn locked the restraints, but now it feels like it is going to pierce through the jockstrap.

“That’s how I thank the boys when they do exactly as they’re told,” Finn says to me, his hand still behind my head.

I don’t know what pleases me more, the fact that I have earned this ‘reward’, or the fact that Finn seems genuinely pleased with what I’ve prepared.

“Thank you,” I reply automatically.

Finn looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Thank you, Sir,” I correct myself quickly.

“Good boy,” he says, ruffling my hair quickly as one might do with a pet. “Now I am going to show you how you should stand: sit on your heels, spread your legs a little, stand a bit straighter—there—and rest your hands on your thighs.” As he explains, I adjust my position slightly until Finn is satisfied.

“There you go, that is exactly how you should be. I’ve put a big cushion there because it is not easy at first, but you’ll see, with time you’ll manage without it.”

What do you mean, ‘with time’? I feel like reminding him that I’ve got a train to the north the next day, but I think the question would be out of place. And above all, I trust him.

“Now, cheers, Italian boy!” he says, taking the two glasses from the tray and handing me one.

“Cheers, Sir,” I reply politely, taking the glass and putting the straw in my mouth.

“By the way, we need to find you a name. Alessio is too long. From now on, in this house, you’ll be ‘Boy Ale’.”

“Understood, Sir. I like it; it is my nickname anyway.”

“Very well, boy. By the way, there is another rule you must follow, boy: when you’re with me, you’re not allowed to speak unless I ask you to or give you permission. If you want to speak, you must ask my permission. Understood, boy?”

“Understood, Sir.” I don’t know if it is because I was not allowed to finish my answer and that is a reproach, or if it is just a general statement.

“Very well. Now let’s enjoy this lovely aperitif.”

I am not sure I really realise the situation I am in. Practically naked, bound and chained, on my knees in front of a guy I only met a few hours ago. And yet I feel good. As if I am in another world. The gentle warmth of the fire burning in the fireplace behind me. The way Finn looks at me. I can tell he likes me. And I like him.

“From now on you can speak freely, boy,” he tells me.

“Thank you, Sir,” I reply automatically. But I am not quite sure what else to say. It seems strange to make small talk when I am wearing nothing but a jockstrap, chained and on my knees in front of him…

And yet, Finn starts asking me a few questions about my planned trek, and the conversation gets going. As the glass of Spritz empties, the exchange becomes easier, more natural. We are mainly talking about me, actually; I don’t really learn much more about this tall, blue-eyed bloke sitting on his sofa. But Finn learns a lot about me. My past relationships, my hobbies, my family.

I am starting to get tired of kneeling like this. I try to shift position slightly when Finn seems to notice my discomfort and stands up.

“Come on, it is 8 pm and it has been a long day, it’s time to make dinner,” he says, taking me by the arm to help me back onto my feet. It takes me a few moments to find my balance. Finn’s firm grip is reassuring and stops me from falling.

“As it is your first day, I am not going to let you do everything on your own. Come on,” and I follow Finn as he heads towards the kitchen. Being back on my feet makes me realise my situation once again, and especially the fact that I am wearing nothing but a jockstrap. I follow him despite the constraints that force me to take rather small steps.

Finn opens the fridge and takes out a few ingredients. The meal is mostly prepared by Finn, who asks me to carry out certain tasks, a bit as if I were the kitchen assistant to a Michelin-starred chef. Which doesn’t bother me, since Finn regularly comes to check the quality of my work, each time accompanied by a gesture towards me. In particular, I get a good slap on the bum when he points out that the onions are cut too thick.

Meanwhile, we continue our conversation whilst sipping a second glass of Spritz that I have made for us.

Once the meal is finished – a sort of reimagined Bolognese – I set the table. As he approaches the table, I pull out his chair so he can sit down. I can see the surprise but also the satisfaction in his eyes.

“Very good, boy, very good.”

I don’t know why I did that, but I did. Not that I want to force myself to play a role, but at that moment I just wants to make him happy.

Once Finn is seated, I go back to the kitchen to fetch the plates and serve him, then go back to get my own and sit opposite him at this large dining table. I am still wearing my restraints; I am still practically naked. The feel of the chair beneath my bottom is strange. It is a bit silly to say, but I have only sat naked in the hammam or the sauna. Despite the feeling of humiliation, being naked isn’t physically a problem; the warmth of the room makes up for the lack of clothes.

“So, boy, how does it feel to be chained up like that?”

The question takes me by surprise because the conversation has not yet turned to the relationship we have started. I reply that I do not really know, and that I do not even know if I actually like it.

“But the bulge in your jockstrap says otherwise…”

Finn is right; it is hard to hide my arousal. But then again, I couldn’t say whether it is down to the restraints, the situation, or simply Finn’s presence.

“It is because of you, Sir,” I venture to say.

“Because of you, or thanks to you?” he replies with a wink. I look down at my plate, embarrassed.

“I think I know how you’re feeling right now, boy. First of all, you’re scared. You’re scared of being here alone with me. You’re telling yourself I might be a psychopath, that I could hurt you. But you’re also aroused. I’ve felt from the moment I met you that you have a deep need to be dominated by a man. I don’t know how aware you are of it, but that need is deep within you, and it excites you and fills you completely. And you’re also intrigued. Intrigued to see where all this might lead, what it might bring you. Am I wrong, boy?”

I think for a moment, then nod politely. He got me spot on. Except that something’s missing. I am irresistibly drawn to Finn. I want him to take me in his muscular arms; I want to do anything to please him. But I keep that to myself.

“What’s your experience with BDSM, boy?” he asks me bluntly.

“Almost none, Sir,” I reply, looking up at him. Then I explain that I’ve never had any real experience, but that I am interested in the subject and have seen quite a lot online.

“And would you like to try it with me, boy?”

“I feel like we’ve already started a bit, haven’t we?” I reply, laughing a little. The spritz and the red wine are starting to take effect and I am beginning to relax enough to be a bit more natural.

Finn smiles tenderly at me. I can see in his eyes that he is thinking I still have a lot to learn.

“You know, boy, a BDSM session usually requires preparation. As you’re a novice, if you want to continue, we can take it step by step. One thing is important: for me, this isn’t a role-play. I am naturally dominant, and I can see you’re very responsive to that. I don’t know if you’re naturally submissive, but in any case, with me you are, and that is why I am attracted to you. But that doesn’t stop us from communicating properly—quite the opposite actually. It is very important that you tell me clearly how you feel, what you want, or if there is anything you don’t like or that scares you, so that we can both have a positive experience.”

I listen intently to this guy sitting opposite me, whose muscular chest is clad in a leather harness and whose blue eyes seem to want to pierce right through mine.

“It’s better not to plan everything in advance, otherwise you risk being disappointed. We risk being disappointed. But it is important that you tell me in a bit more detail what interests you or what excites you about the content you’ve seen online.”

I think for a moment. Excited by the situation, I launch into a reply that I hope isn’t too extreme.

“I am very drawn to the idea of being tied up, Sir. Of being tied up constantly, without the ability to free myself. I’ve seen lots of bondage photos and videos, with ropes, chains, leather restraints, and I always get very excited at the thought of finding myself in that situation. I imagine myself being tied up for several hours in uncomfortable positions.”

I pause and reflect on what I have just said.

“But I don’t know if it is just a fantasy, or if I actually enjoy it. But I must admit that when you handcuffed me when I arrived here, and ever since I’ve been wearing these restraints, I’ve felt something I can’t really describe, but which I quite like.”

“I think it is just plain old excitement, boy,” he replies with a smile.

The conversation continues about BDSM practices in general and what intrigues and interests me. I mention to him that I am very intrigued by guys who are sort of humiliated by their dom, who have to do, for example, unusual things in everyday life like kneeling, licking feet, or carrying out slightly degrading orders.

“I find the reward and punishment aspect interesting too.” I’ve always been intrigued by spanking in particular—the fact that guys can be punished as if they need discipline. Or the whip, like an animal.

A bit shy at first, I eventually loosened up and took up a lot of space in this conversation, which Finn listened to attentively. I also explained to him that I am not sure I want to just have BDSM encounters, but that ideally for me it should be part of a long-term relationship, because it goes beyond just the physical sensation during a session.

I surprise myself with the way I am intellectualising all this. I must have thought about it more unconsciously than I realised…

“But please understand me, Sir, I am not saying I don’t want to try something with you tonight—quite the opposite—but I can’t see myself going from one session to the next with different guys.”

Finn chuckles a bit. “Then you’ll just have to come back, boy.”

“Very well, boy. It is great that you’ve been able to open up like that; I can see that despite your inexperience, you have a pretty good idea of where you’d like to go. And I really like that because we’re totally on the same wavelength. Now, don’t forget that everything you’ve said is based on the virtual world, and that reality is sometimes different. So I’ll come back to the importance of communicating and you telling me or making me understand as we go along if something goes too far for you, OK, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply.

The whole conversation has really turned me on. I’ve got a massive hard-on in my jockstrap.

“Now there is something that might seem a bit artificial but is important. I have three different safewords. Red if things aren’t right and we need to stop everything immediately. Orange if we need to stop the activity in question, without completely interrupting the session. Yellow if you feel you’re approaching your limit, that we can continue but more gently. Understood, boy?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And if you’re gagged, then you move your head from left to right continuously for Red, up and down for Orange, and in circles for Yellow.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“But normally you don’t need these safewords; I am pretty good at reading guys’ emotions,” he says, sitting up and resting his elbows on the table.

Without letting me continue the conversation, he stood up.

“Clear the table, do the washing-up and join me upstairs, boy.”

“Yes, Sir,” I reply as I stand up.

My cock is still hard in my jockstrap. And it is not the sound and feel of the chains that is dampening my arousal—quite the opposite. I find myself alone on the ground floor. Finn has headed straight for the stairs. I make a few trips back and forth between the table and the kitchen to bring everything in. With every step, the clinking of the chains can be heard.

I don’t know if there is a dishwasher, but I decide to wash the dishes by hand, hoping Finn will be pleased with this initiative. I get on with it, taking care not to damage the crockery with my chains, then I dry everything off and finally open all the cupboards a little to find where things go. I do my best to put everything in its place. Once everything is tidied away, I clean the table and the worktop.

Feeling a bit anxious all on my own in this large room, I head towards the staircase and start climbing it. The chain connecting the shackles on my ankles drags along the solid wooden steps. I grab the chain connecting my wrists and pull it upwards to prevent it from rubbing against the wood.

I reach the first floor. In front of me, a door. Closed. On either side of the staircase, two corridors that meet, with several doors, one of which is open.

“This way, boy!”

Finn’s voice comes from the open door. I head towards it and step into a bathroom. Very modern, with a huge walk-in shower.

Clearly, Finn had taken a shower whilst I was tidying the kitchen. He is now wearing just a pair of black boxer shorts, quite tight-fitting, with “MASTER” written in white letters on the waistband. The tone is set. I am not sure what to do; I don’t know if I should get down on my knees, if Finn would want me to, or if he expects me to do it without him having to ask.

But as soon as I step into the bathroom, he heads for the sink, grabs a key and walks towards me. He sets about unlocking my restraints, which he does quickly with a dexterity that clearly shows his experience.

“Have a shower, boy, you’ve earned it,” he says, placing a towel on the rail next to the shower. “And make the most of it, you’re allowed hot water,” he adds with a wink before leaving the bathroom, carrying all the gear he has taken off me. Only the chain around my neck is still there, with its padlock.

I take off the jockstrap and step into the shower after a quick piss. The lukewarm water feels amazing; I could stay in there for hours. I grab one of the products and lather myself up all over. My cock is still hard. As I soap it up, I can’t help but stroke it; I am really turned on and I am itching to wank.

“No wanking, boy!” I hear Finn’s voice from outside the room.

How does he know? Is there a camera or something, or does he just know I would want to do it?

In any case, I let go of my cock.

“Of course, Sir!”

Worried that I have been caught out, I quickly finish my shower and dry myself off.

“When you’re done, come here, boy. No need to put your jockstrap back on.”

I finish drying myself and hang the towel on the heated towel rail. I step out of the bathroom. The door opposite the staircase is open. Completely naked, I head towards the bedroom. I walk through the door and enter a room lit by warm, indirect light.

It is very minimalist. A huge bed stands in the middle of the room. A fairly light-coloured solid wood bed. Pure white sheets. A bookcase filled with books, not a single one sticking out. Given how tidy the room is, I wouldn’t even be surprised if they were arranged in alphabetical order. The only other piece of furniture in the room is a metallic cage with black bars, padded on the inside and on top. Not tiny, but not large either. Perhaps 1.40 m by 80 cm.

I freeze for a moment when I see it. I have of course seen videos of guys in cages before, but seeing the cage right next to this big bed really brings home the reality of the situation.

“Come over here, boy.”

Finn, still in his black boxer shorts, is waiting for me with his arms crossed next to the bed. On the bed, he has laid out what I assume is the gear he is going to make me wear. I must admit that after the shower, I would have loved to slip into my boxers and flop onto that bed, which looks really comfortable. I am tired from the journey, and my heart and mind have been working overtime ever since I met Finn. And I certainly don’t want to sleep in that cage, because I know that is what awaits me. I want Finn to take me in his arms and hold me tight to help me fall asleep.

“Sir, there is something I need to tell you…” I start to say when Finn puts his finger to my lips. He looks down at me from his height of 1.85 metres with his piercing blue eyes.

“Shhh, boy. We’re both tired and we need some rest, don’t start arguing.”

I stop in my tracks. I just wanted to tell him I wasn’t sure I wanted to be caged up for the night, but his reassuring tone and the feel of his finger on my mouth make me change my mind and remind me just how attracted I am to him and how much I want to please him. So I back down.

“Yes, Sir,” I say respectfully.

Finn picks up a pair of leather shorts he’d laid out on the bed and hands them to me.

“Here, put these on.”

These are not just ordinary shorts, as they are fitted with straps on all sides. I don’t quite understand how to put them on, and Finn, after having a bit of fun watching me struggle, steps in front of me. He pulls the shorts up to my waist. Without warning, he grabs my cock and threads it through a hole at the front. Now that the shorts are in place, I understand better. The shorts have a strap that acts as a waistband, as well as two similar straps, one around each thigh. He tightens the thigh straps, leans over the bed and grabs two padlocks, which he locks onto each of them.

“Did you go to the toilets, boy?”

I nod without saying a word.

Finn then grabs a piece of leather hanging down the front of the shorts and pulls it up. With a zip on each side, the piece of leather covers my still-hard cock. Then Finn tightens the waistband, threads it through the front leather panel and padlocks the whole thing.

I find myself trapped in these leather bondage shorts, with no way to take them off or access my cock. I wriggle around a bit inside them; the fit is perfect, as if they’d been made to measure for me.

Finn turns around and picks something up from the bed.

“Give me your hands.” And he quickly slips leather mitts onto my hands, forcing them into a clenched fist position, which he also locks with two small padlocks.

My cock is hard again in its leather prison and my heart rate quickens.

He takes the last object from the bed and stands in front of me. First, he slips a leather collar around my neck. The chain is quite loose and there is plenty of room. Then Finn brings his head level with mine and presses a sort of leather plate against the lower part of my face. It is only when he moves behind me and starts fastening the four straps that go round my head that I realise it is a leather muzzle. Finn is skilled and manages to adjust it quickly. I see him stand in front of me several times to check that everything is properly in place and symmetrical. When he seems satisfied, he looks at me and says,

“Not too tight, boy?”

“No, Sir,” I say through the muzzle, which muffles my reply. It doesn’t have a gag as such. Only a small hole in front of my mouth allows me to breathe through it.

Finn takes several padlocks from the bed and locks the collar and each of the straps, then he stands facing me, looking visibly satisfied.

“You look really hot like that, boy.” I can see the desire in his eyes. And I hope he sees the same desire in mine.

“I know you’d like more, boy, but you need to rest now. We’ll have plenty of time to explore things tomorrow. Come on, off to bed now.”

He is right. I’d like it to go on. I’d like him to tie me up even more. I’d like to be able to kneel before him. I’d like to be able to rub myself against him. But he seems more sensible, and he is probably right.

Before he can tell me, I head towards the cage, whose side door is open.

“Wait, boy, come here,” he says, taking hold of the padlock that secures the chain around my neck.

“You’ll have plenty of time to be locked in that cage, but tonight is your introduction to this household and, as a one-off, you’re allowed to sleep in the bed; I need you to be in good shape tomorrow.” He opens the duvet and literally pushes me into bed. He slips in beside me and turns off the light.

His muscular arms grab me and force me onto my side, with my back to him. He pulls me firmly back towards him and our bodies are pressed tightly together. He keeps his arm around me and holds me close. I can feel his breath near my ear. He kisses me tenderly on the small part of my head that is accessible through the straps of the muzzle.

“Good night, boy.”

“Good night, Fir,” I reply as best I can.

The contact with Finn’s muscular body really turns me on. I rub up against him a little.

“Good boy,” he whispers in my ear.

My cock is hard, as hard as it can be in its confinement. And against my arse, I can feel that Finn isn’t entirely indifferent to the situation either…

To be continued …