By ChrisTheHiker

Chapter 4: The Day After

Despite being tired, I struggle to get to sleep. I have to admit, I am not really used to wearing a muzzle, bondage shorts and mitts to sleep… Physically, all these things are rather uncomfortable. But the worst thing is that they’re arousing. And I have been aroused for hours now without being able to release myself. But the worst of the worst is Finn pressed up against me, his arm wrapped around me like a predator encircling its prey, with no intention of letting it get away. I actually have no desire to sleep. I want him to caress me, to rub against me. I want to feel his muscular body transferring his strength to me.

But Finn lies motionless beside me. He is breathing deeply. I try to move to change position slightly, but I feel his muscles tense.

“You need to sleep, boy” Finn says to me, half asleep.

But my arousal is too intense. And I want to act. I need to act. I would like to make him understand that I am here for him.

I turn towards him, and with my leather-clad fist, I gently push his shoulder so that he lies on his back. At that moment he opens his eyes and looks at me, looking a little surprised in the dim light of the room. I gently run my mitts over his face to encourage him to close his eyes. He seems to get the message and settles himself properly onto his back, closes his eyes, and I feel his muscles relax.

I sit up a little in bed, remove the blanket and begin to stroke his chest and stomach with my mitts. I wish I could have my hands free to give him pleasure, but I feel that even though the sensations are diminished because of this equipment, the fact that I am locked inside it but am still trying my best must be turning him on.

For several long minutes I caress his superb, muscular body. I soon find myself sitting on the bed opposite him, half on top of him, so that I have good access everywhere. From time to time I brush against his boxers and his cock, the outline of which is clearly visible through the taut fabric, bringing a small smirk to my lips.

I am not quite sure how far I can go, and I avoid his private area, which I don’t really dare to touch. Until, gently, Finn takes my wrist—his eyes still closed—and guides my hand towards his crotch. The message is clear. So, doing my best within my constraints, I begin to stroke my Swedish stranger’s cock, quickly eliciting a few deep moans.

I can feel the tension rising rapidly. After a few minutes, Finn moves and pulls down his boxers, something I had not been able to do, as neither my hands nor my mouth were up to the task. His cock is impressive. Big, long and, above all, stiff. I have never personally seen a dude with a cock like that. It is bigger than mine, even though I have always considered myself rather lucky in that department.

As best I can, I take it between my hands and start wanking him, eliciting even more groans. I also stroke his balls, and continue to caress his chest and stomach at the same time. Even though Finn still has his eyes closed, there is no doubt about his arousal and his enjoyment of the moment.

At that moment, I feel a natural urge to remove the muzzle and take his cock into my mouth. I mumble through the muzzle to get Finn’s attention, and he opens his eyes. I then show him my leather muzzle with my mitts and make it clear that it would be just as well for him to take it off.

“No way, boy” is all I get in reply. And Finn rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes. So I resume caressing his body and his cock. I bring my face close to his crotch and stroke his cock with my muzzle, as if I am sucking it. Finn takes my head in his hands and forces me into a gentle back-and-forth motion. I manage a smile beneath my muzzle; my actions have hit the mark, and that makes me happy.

Finn’s cock is pressed against his body and his two hands hold my head firmly on either side. Finn forces me into faster and faster movements. His masculine scent fills my nostrils. My nose rubs steadily against his cock, hard as wood. With my mitts, I continue to caress the rest of his body.

It doesn’t take long before I feel Finn’s muscles start to tense and the rhythm quicken. With my face still pressed against his cock, Finn literally erupts. Long, powerful jets of his seed spurt onto his stomach, almost reaching his face, accompanied by loud groans.

Finn lets go of my head and continues to work his cock to extract the last drops of juice. Freed from his grip, I lie on my side next to him, propped up on my elbow. With my mitt, I brush against his now completely relaxed body.

Finn turns his head in my direction and finally opens his eyes.

“Well, boy, that is quite a start. We’re definitely meant to get on.”

I can see the satisfaction on his face. I am happy. I can feel my hard cock rubbing against the leather of my shorts. But at no point did I think about my own arousal. I was so focused on Finn’s that I ended up forgetting about my own cock. And that makes me proud. Proud to have thought of him and not of myself. And proud to have been exciting enough to make him come and satisfy him.

Finn’s cum is still smeared all over his chest, in plenty. I start to get up to fetch a towel or some paper to clean him up when Finn stops me in my tracks.

“Stay there, boy, don’t bother with that. Come over here.”

I turn back and settle down next to him again.

“Get on all fours and lower your head.”

I do as I am told, still completely aroused by the situation.

With his large hand, Finn wipes the cum from his chest, and he then strokes my hair, smearing his seed over me. He repeats this several times whilst looking at me with a smirk.

“Normally you’d have to clean that up with your mouth, boy, but since you’re unable to do so, we have to find a solution.”

I can see in his eyes the pleasure he takes in doing this. In humiliating me by smearing his semen through my hair as if he were wiping himself on a towel.

But above all, I am surprised by myself. I am surprised because it turns me on too. I can’t really say why. I find it rather gross to have a guy’s cum in my hair, dripping down the sides and onto my forehead. But it turns me on that it is Finn’s, and that he did it without a second thought, without asking me, as if it were natural. Whereas, outside this context, I would have found this gesture frankly disgusting, I liked it. And worse, it turned me on.

After pulling up his boxers, Finn, still lying on his back, motions for me to come closer. I lie down beside him. He guides my head to rest on his chest and wraps his muscular arm around me.

“Good night, hot boy, I am really glad I met you.”

I would like to say the same to him, but as the muzzle prevents me from speaking, I groan softly whilst stroking his chest with my mitt.

And we both fall asleep.

***

When I emerge from my deep sleep, the sun is already up. I open my eyes to find Alessio’s head still resting on my chest, my arm still around him. I don’t know if we slept like this all night or if he came back to snuggle up against me this morning, but I feel a great sense of satisfaction.

This guy is really endearing. I was drawn to him the moment I stepped onto the plane. As I walked up the aisle, I hoped to be seated not far from him, and it was fate that gave me the seat next to him. I sensed straight away that there was something special about him. His body language, the way he spoke to me, as if he were shy, uncomfortable, yet drawn to me at the same time.

I am aware that I am good-looking, and I often have an effect on guys. If I wanted to, I could certainly have a one-night stand every day, even in a remote area like mine. But I don’t like that. I like intense, long-lasting relationships that you can build over time. Sex for sex’s sake does not interest me at all.

I have been gay all my life and have been drawn to BDSM. I quickly got into the scene, and with my strong personality I have had quite a few experiences over the years. So much so that I soon realised I didn’t want a traditional relationship, but one in which BDSM has a place, with me as the dom, of course. I have had several regular subs. Great lads, with whom I have had good experiences and built interesting relationships. But something was always missing.

I have given this a lot of thought and have come to the conclusion that, more often than not, the subs I have had were, under the guise of submission, primarily seeking their own pleasure. I am not saying that at times they didn’t try to give me pleasure, and I don’t blame them for seeking their own pleasure too, but I often felt as though I was at the sub’s service rather than the other way round. And that doesn’t entirely satisfy me. Every time the relationship ended because we had reached the end of the road, that little spark was missing.

I immediately sensed that Alessio was different. I don’t really know what made me think that, but my instinct and gut told me I had to try something with this guy.

Throughout the flight, whether in conversation or through my actions, I dropped hints and watched his reaction. And every time, his reaction was even better than expected. And when he got down on his knees in front of me in that car park, I knew he was the one.

I had several options when I got home, but I decided to go straight on the offensive to see how he would react, and he didn’t disappoint me—quite the opposite. Even though we had only known each other for a few hours, he let me undress and chain him up without a murmur.

Although I was already absolutely certain it was a perfect match, I was still careful not to rush things. Even though my deepest desire was to tie him firmly to my spanking bench, redden his arse and thrust my cock into him. But building something with a guy takes time, and with Alessio, I don’t want to rush things. And whilst I have a very dominant nature, I am also extremely respectful of my subs and aware of the responsibility I have.

So I made the most of the flight, and especially the meal, to strike up a conversation that has already taught me a great deal about my new sub. Because yes, it didn’t take me long to consider Alessio as my new sub. He has little or practically no experience in BDSM, but he is very interested, even if you sometimes have to read between the lines a bit. I could have gone through the list of classic practices and seen if he was interested or not. And discussed his limits frankly. But at the time, I didn’t feel the need to. I sensed that Alessio was open and curious, so I opted for a different approach: seeing as we went along what worked and what didn’t, and progressing gently. Of course, making sure he could always speak up if something didn’t suit him. I am not necessarily talking about the physical ability to speak up, but above all the emotional ability. I must ensure that he trusts me enough that, even in his submissive role, he can tell me at any time if something is wrong, even when I am forcing him to do something. In this way, we can build something authentic and lasting.

I think for a moment about the day ahead. Alessio has to catch his train this afternoon to continue his journey. Deep down, I am certain that if I asked him—or rather, ordered him—to change his booking to stay a few more days with me, he would. But given what he explained to me yesterday, I get the impression he needs to go on this trek, and changing his plans might be counterproductive. So I decide to make the most of the morning to explore his kinks a little and continue building my authority over this young lad I am holding in my arms, then I will take him to the station. We can also take advantage of his trek to chat remotely, and I already have a few ideas that will help him remember me during his journey.

Gently, I stroke his head. His hair is still sticky from last night.

“Good morning, boy,” I say gently. “The sun’s up.”

He slowly opens his eyes. I watch his reaction to see if he shows any fear or apprehension. I don’t know if he woke up regularly during the night, but once the excitement of the previous day has worn off, I can imagine that when he realises his head is locked in a muzzle, his fists clenched in leather mitts and he is dressed in bondage shorts, he will panic a little. Perhaps, once the excitement has died down, he will want to take it all off and run out of this house as quickly as possible.

But Alessio looks up at me.

“Goof Morphing Fir,” he tries to say through the muzzle. Then he sits up a little and rests his head on my shoulder, leaning against mine.

Clearly, he doesn’t want to leave… His behaviour turns me on immediately and my cock hardens in my boxers. At that moment, I just want to take off his muzzle and make him suck me off, to use his mouth to relieve my arousal. But even though I think he would be more than up for it—as his behaviour last night showed—I reckon it is too soon. And I have got something else in mind.

“Come on, boy, get up,” I say gently but firmly.

Alessio gets out of bed and so do I. I head towards the bathroom and take a piss. Alessio’s mouth could come in handy for that in the future, too.

I go back out to fetch Alessio, grab him by the chain of his collar and lead him into the bathroom. I position him in front of the toilet. I grab a carabiner and fasten his two mitts behind his back. Then I unlock and undo the waistband of his shorts and pull down both zips to free his half-hard cock. Without further ado, I take his cock in my hand and guide it towards the toilet bowl.

“Go on, boy.”

His body tenses slightly; I wait a few moments, but nothing happens.

“Come on, lad, relax.”

I have achieved my goal. Alessio cannot piss because he is embarrassed. Embarrassed that a guy is holding his cock and watching him piss. I could have taken off his mitts, but no, I specifically wanted to provoke this reaction.

I can feel Alessio’s cock swelling in my hand, proof that he is not entirely unmoved by this moment. I stay like that beside him for a few minutes.

“Relax, boy, it’ll be fine,” I whisper in his ear.

After a while, Alessio finally manages to relax and a long stream begins to flow. Again, it seems like a waste to me, but it is still too early.

Once he is finished, I zip him up and lock his shorts again. I pick up the key I have left on the edge of the sink and unlock the padlocks on his mitts, then remove them. He stretches his fingers several times and rubs his hands, which are probably stiff. I love mitts, because they render the subs’ hands almost useless, and because, in the long run, they become a real constraint.

“Come down and make us breakfast, boy,” I say, giving him a slap on the bum.

Without hesitation, Alessio murmurs “Yef Fir” under his muzzle and leaves the bathroom.

His behaviour never ceases to amaze me.

Once he is gone downstairs, I head to the dressing room to find something to wear. Given the plans I have in mind for this morning, I opt for something casual and choose a simple pair of shorts and a sports T-shirt, which I slip on without any underwear.

I had seen from the look in his eyes yesterday that he had really liked my leather bulldog harness, so I decide to slip it on over my T-shirt. I stay barefoot.

I climb the main staircase leading to the upper floor and open the door to the playroom. It covers the entire floor of the house. Over the years, I have accumulated quite a bit of equipment and have used the long winter evenings to set up a setup of which I am rather proud.

I am thinking about what I am going to do with Alessio this morning. From our conversation yesterday, I gathered he is very into bondage. And it is a great way to start, especially for him as he seems a bit shy to me.

I decide on some ropes, a few leather restraints, a gag, nipple clamps and a few other toys. I head back down the spiral staircase that leads straight to my bedroom and lay the equipment out on my bed. I mentally prepare myself for what I am going to do next as I walk down the stairs to the ground floor.

To my great surprise, I find Alessio standing next to the table. He is motionless and standing to attention, hands behind his back. On the table, he has laid out everything needed for breakfast. He truly is an amazing boy.

I do what I love doing. Without paying him attention, I sit down at the table and wait for him to serve me. It takes him a few seconds to realise he has to do it, but he quickly asks if I would like coffee and what I would like to eat. He serves me quite skilfully and returns to his position once he is finished.

I don’t thank him for the service. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I want him to understand that it is his job and that it is part of his daily duties.

But he must be hungry too. And this is a good opportunity to test his limits a little. I take a plate, place a few pieces of bread, some butter and jam on it, and set it down on the floor beside me.

“Down on your knees, boy,” I order him rather curtly.

He kneels down beside me, facing his plate. I take the key out of my pocket and remove his muzzle.

“Last evening was an exception; here, the boys eat at my feet or in their cages.”

Which is true. I like to gather friends around this large table, but that is not where my submissives belong. It is not a game or a pose; it’s just that it is not their place.

“Yes, Sir”.

“Enjoy your meal, boy.”

I use the meal as an opportunity to ask him a few questions about bondage, without going into too much detail, but to better plan how I am going to look after him this morning. From his answers, I gather that he is really into all kinds of bondage, but especially restrictive bondage—whether with ropes or other equipment—and particularly those from which there is no escape.

Deep down, I agree with everything he says. I love seeing a guy in a predicament, trying to endure the restraints and the position whilst knowing that I alone hold the key to relieving him or getting him out of there. The pursuit of this absolute dependence on me is something that is part of my nature.

The doorbell rings.

I stand up, meeting the worried gaze of Alessio, who remains kneeling beside the table. Perhaps he is afraid someone might come in and see him in this position?

“Don’t worry, boy, it’s probably just our luggage,” I say as I head for the front door.

In this little village, everyone knows each other and my activities are not exactly a secret to the people around me. I know full well that it wouldn’t have been a problem for Ralf, the postman, if Alessio had gone to open the door in his outfit. I usually avoid sending naked subs to open the door, so as not to impose our games on people who haven’t asked for them, but in leather bondage shorts, Alessio could easily have gone to open it. But I don’t want to scare him off too quickly.

I return to the room with my small suitcase and Alessio’s backpack. I have got a soft spot for sporty types and I reckon he must look hot in his hiking gear with that big rucksack on his shoulders.

Having finished my lunch, I go upstairs, telling Alessio to tidy up and join me. I go into the bedroom and put the backpack in a corner. I open it and look at the gear he has brought.

I don’t know much about trekking, but I can see he seems to be very well organised. Whilst Alessio is still downstairs, I get an idea to spice up his experience and cement our relationship. I take out the four pairs of boxer shorts he has packed in his bag and replace them with two jockstraps and two thongs. I go up to the playroom and come back down with a small fabric bag, which I slip into one of the pockets, along with a medium-sized butt plug and some lube. I close the bag and call out to Alessio.

“So, boy, not finished yet?”

“I’m coming, Sir,” he replies, hurrying up the stairs.

“Come here, get down on your knees.” He kneels in front of me. I want him to suck me off, but I would rather save that pleasure for later. I take his chin in my hand and force him to look me in the eyes.

“So, are you ready for the next bit, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” he replies with surprising confidence.

I grab a black ball gag and slip it over his mouth before locking it at the back of his neck. I take him by the arm and stand him up. I hesitate to take off his bondage shorts. Aesthetically, it would look better. But in a way, I don’t want him to think his cock might be free. So I leave his shorts on and start making a chest harness with hemp ropes. I have taken quite a few shibari lessons and, without wanting to brag, I find most of my creations rather satisfying. I tie his hands behind his back, fairly high up without it being too uncomfortable either.

As I walk past him, my thigh brushes against his bondage shorts, and I can tell he is not entirely indifferent to the situation. I look at him and smile, and I can see in his eyes that he has realised it is clear to me that this situation is turning him on.

After finishing with his upper body, I guide him towards the bed and position him face down. Using the same type of rope, I tie his legs in a frog-tie. I don’t hold back, applying firm pressure to ensure they are properly folded back. Then I tie his feet to the ropes of the chest harness, thus holding my new toy in a hogtie position. It may not be the most restrictive hogtie I have ever done, but for his first time, it will already be very restrictive.

I approach him from the front and stroke his hair, which still bears traces of my climax from the night before.

“So, boy, do you feel good like this?”

Through his gag, Alessio lets me know that I am not wrong.

“Now I am going to set a timer. You’re going to stay in this position for 30 minutes. It doesn’t seem long, but you’ll see, time passes more slowly in a position like this, and I’d be surprised if you last the full 30 minutes. Feel free to test your bonds and try to free yourself; I won’t take it amiss if you manage it. But it won’t happen…” I add in his ear before standing up.

I set the timer on my smartphone to 30 minutes and take a seat on a chair facing the bed, behind him.

At first, Alessio remains still and doesn’t move. But after a few minutes, he starts to adjust his position slightly, probably to relieve the tension building up in his limbs.

After about 15 minutes, he starts moving around properly. He is testing his bonds. I can see him trying to grab the ropes with his hands tied behind his back and pull on them, but he is getting nowhere. The groans he lets out show just how frustrated he must be feeling right now.

As for me, I am enjoying this moment. Alessio is really handsome. Quite lean, but you can still see the muscles of a guy who likes to move and work out. He has the face of an angel, and seeing him writhing like this in the ropes makes him even sexier.

Still sitting comfortably in my chair, I pull my cock out of my shorts and start wanking. I am dying to stand in front of him, take off his gag and make him suck me off, but I force myself not to. I don’t want to risk ruining everything when it is looking so promising.

I gently wank myself until I quickly reach the brink of climax. But I stop; I have to save myself for later.

Fortunately, my phone rings. The 30 minutes are up. I walk over to Alessio, who has also heard the ringtone, causing a wave of relief to wash over him.

“You know you’re sexy when you struggle like that, boy?”

I can’t quite make out what he is saying through his gag, his head half-buried in the mattress, but I think I make out a “Thank you, Sir”.

“And guys tied up like that really turn me on. It’d be a shame not to enjoy this for a bit longer.”

To be honest, I’d planned to untie him and move on after the 30 minutes, but he seems to have enjoyed it so much that I can’t help wanting more.

I quickly go downstairs and come back up with the leather muzzle he’d been wearing until breakfast. I swiftly remove his ball gag, stuff a sock into his mouth—not without getting a grunt from him—and put the muzzle back on.

“Don’t complain, boy, it is a clean sock; it won’t always be like this.”

Alessio lets out a half-laugh through his new gag.

“This morning we talked about predicaments; let’s see if you really like this.”

I thread a rope over the top of his chest harness, at shoulder level, and tie it to the rope binding his two feet together. Gently, I pull it tight, forcing his body to arch backwards, drawing moans from my sub. Once it is tight, I tie the rope and take a second one, which I also tie to his feet, then thread through the eyelet at the top of the muzzle. Pulling gently, I force his head to tilt backwards.

Alessio moans even louder. I continue to increase the tension until I judge the position to be very uncomfortable but bearable, then I tie a knot.

My new sub is now in a tight frog-tie position, his head pulled back. He moans and struggles as best he can. I can tell he can’t find a position that really relieves him, which is normal.

I leave him like that for a few minutes, going back to sit in my chair. I take out my still-hard cock again and slowly wank myself whilst Alessio thrashes about. Just as I am about to come, Alessio suddenly starts groaning louder and louder through his gag. I don’t immediately understand what is happening; his body is racked with spasms and he is groaning more and more violently. Just as I tuck my cock away to go over to him, I finally realise: Alessio is coming. The spasms last a few seconds and then I feel his body relax completely, at least as much as he can in the position he is in.

Without a word, I untie the ropes holding his head and shoulders back and let him relax, still in the frog-tie position but with a more bearable tension.

“Did you come, boy?”

In reply, I get a nod of the head indicating that he has.

“Well, it is certainly true that you like tight bondage…”

I am happy. Happy to have found this sexy guy with whom I feel there is something going on. And happy to know that I managed to make him come without even touching him. But I have principles that must be respected, and despite the moment, I can’t let this slide without saying anything.

I lean in close to his ear and whisper, “I am happy for you, boy, but a sub is never allowed to come without asking my permission; I am going to have to punish you for that.”

Alessio can’t help letting out a little chuckle, muffled by his muzzle. I am not sure he has properly understood that I am serious. But he will realise soon enough.

I let him relax a bit like that whilst I pop to the bathroom. I am struggling to pee because my cock is so stiff, especially when I imagine Alessio’s soaking in his own juices inside those leather shorts.

When I return to the bedroom, my new sub is wriggling about in his bondage. That is to be expected; it is even harder to hold a position after you HAve come.

I sit down on the bed next to him and start to untie him. Slowly, one rope after another. After each rope, I take the time to fold it carefully and put it away before moving on to the next one. For me, it is a way of showing the submissive that he can wait, that he must wait, and that his climax changes nothing about the process, even though he probably really wants to be untied.

It still takes me a while to remove all the ropes. During this time, I say nothing; I let Alessio enjoy the release. And the anticipation of what will happen next. It is 10.30 am and we still have three hours ahead of us. And I fully intend to make the most of them.

“Lie on your back,” I order him once all the ropes are removed. I can imagine that at that moment he would have liked a break, or even a cuddle, but far be it from me to take a break; I want to carry on straight away.

He turns round and lies on his back. I take him by the feet and pull him down a little so that he is in the middle of the bed.

I fasten leather restraints to his wrists and ankles, which I quickly secure to the four corners of the bed. Within minutes, he finds himself in a spreadeagle position on my bed. I love this position because I find it completely exposes the sub, who finds himself in a very vulnerable position, with no way to protect himself with his arms or legs. The ultimate step for me is the same position but standing up, where everything is accessible.

Alessio grunts a little through his gag. He is probably surprised to find himself tied up again so quickly, whilst his cock is still glistening with his own juices.

I take a few more leather straps and secure them in several places on his legs and arms. I also use two wider ones, which I tie around his torso and stomach. Using a series of ropes, I tie all these straps to the bed frame.

He struggles a little, immediately starting to test his bonds. As I watch his movements, I tighten a few ropes. So, in just a few minutes, Alessio can barely move, as if he were caught in a spider’s web.

I sit back down at my observation post and watch him struggle against his bonds for several long minutes. But it doesn’t take him very long to realise it is a lost cause and that he’ll remain in this position until I decide to release him.

A large bulge is visible through his bondage shorts, despite the thick leather. Once again, I’ve got it right; clearly, tight bondage has quite a direct effect on him.

Once he has stopped wriggling, I approach him again. I take the key, unlock the padlock on his shorts, unzip them and pull down the front of the shorts that have been confining his cock since last night. I don’t know how long it has been since he has last come, but judging by the look of things, he wasn’t short of juice. His cock immediately stands to attention against his lower abdomen.

I fully intend to make him come a second time, but not just yet.

I pick up the nipple clamps I have left on the chest of drawers and attach them to him gently. He cries out a little through the sock still in his mouth, but judging by his cock’s reaction, I don’t think it is really a no-go. I play with them a bit, and Alessio wriggles in his bondage, even though he has no chance of escaping me. For several long minutes I play with his nipples, sometimes pulling on the chain connecting the clamps, sometimes playing with my fingers, all accompanied by the moans of this sub discovering these pleasures.

I play with his body. My hand, clad in a leather glove, travels over his body, caressing him sometimes very lightly, sometimes much harder. Pausing on his nipples, holding his muzzle firmly. The only part I do not touch is his cock, which has been permanently erect since he was freed from his leather prison.

I stay like this for over an hour, lying next to him, playing with his body. When I get up and walk away, Alessio growls. I realise he would have liked to prolong this moment a little longer. But I have other plans for him.

I go back to the chest of drawers and pick up a silicone ball stretcher. Without much ceremony, I slip it on, eliciting a few moans. Alessio’s balls are now pulled away from his body and his stiff cock makes them point upwards.

I grab the riding crop I have left on the chest of drawers and start stroking his body, which tenses at the touch of the leather tip.

“I told you, boy, here it is forbidden to do anything without my permission, including coming. And any disobedience is severely punished to ensure it doesn’t happen again. Understood, boy?”

No reply.

I give a fairly sharp lash of the whip to the inside of his thigh, which makes him groan through his gag.

“Here, you answer when I ask a question. So, have you understood, boy?”

“Yes, Sir,” he tries to say through the sock and the muzzle.

I sit down next to him between the ropes. With the tip of the whip, I rub his testicles, which are offered up to me. His whole body tenses. I think he has realised what is about to happen. In this position, he is completely vulnerable, and his balls are completely at my mercy.

“Sorry, Ale, but you’ve broken one of the most important rules. Cumming without permission is very serious. You’re still at the start of your training, but you need to understand that you must never do that again. That’s why you’re going to receive 50 strokes on the balls. They will be delivered steadily, without stopping and without a break. And you’ll see, believe me, after that you’ll think twice before disobeying me again.”

His breathing quickens and he moans through his gag. I am sure he is dreading what is coming, but right now I really want him to experience it as a punishment and never even think of coming without my permission again. I like to have total control over my subs, especially when it comes to their orgasms. And I cannot tolerate any deviation on this point.

I decide on a rhythm of one lash every two seconds or so. I grip my riding crop firmly in my hand, find a position that will allow me to deliver good lashes, and begin to inflict the punishment.

The first stroke cracks out hard. Alessio screams through his gag. The second one too, followed by the third. Alessio tries to move, but he is securely fastened and with my riding crop it is easy for me to adjust my strokes so they land in exactly the right spot every time.

Alessio screams and writhes, but the blows rain down steadily every two seconds, relentlessly. It pains me to inflict this on him, but I have no choice; I am obliged to assert my authority.

I notice that despite the screams, Alessio’s cock remains stiff. And I see no sign of any of the safewords I explained to him. As well as being naturally submissive, could he be a bit of a masochist?

38, 39, 40…

I want Alessio to get the message loud and clear: if we’re to continue building something together, it must be clear that there are rules and that we don’t break them. So I decide to ramp up the intensity for the last ten strokes and strike harder.

He struggles even more in his restraints until I finally reach the last one.

“And 50,” I say, placing the riding crop on his chest. I lean in close to his face, stroke his hair and whisper, “There you go, boy. I hope you’ve now understood that you mustn’t disobey me.”

“Yef Fir,” I hear immediately through his gag.

His eyes are slightly misted with tears; the experience was intense. So I decide to lie down next to him for a while and stroke him, sometimes with my leather-gloved hand, sometimes with the riding crop. Alessio gradually relaxes, his breathing slows. He turns his head and locks eyes with me.

“Thank you, Fir,” I hear him say. I can’t help but smile. A sub thanking me for a punishment is something that touches me deeply; it means he has understood the message and the objective.

For several long minutes I continue to caress him; his cock remains hard.

I glance at my watch; in an hour we’ll need to start getting ready. I decide not to change position—it would take too long. So I go back up to the playroom and come back down with a vibrator. I lubricate Alessio’s cock and slide it into the silicone sleeve attached to the end of the vibrator. I pick up the nipple clamps and clip them back onto his nipples, drawing a little cry of pain each time. Then I switch on the vibrator. Alessio lets out a groan of pleasure through the muzzle.

“There you go, boy. Now, for your final hour, you’re going to stay like that. But don’t worry, you’re allowed to come as many times as you like. Enjoy!” I say as I leave the room and close the door.

I head to my office and sit down at my computer. I switch on the system and launch the monitoring software. I can see Alessio tied up on my bed, writhing about. I turn up the volume to hear his steady groans. You don’t need to be a fortune-teller to see he is getting off. I eat a piece of fruit, checking my phone whilst keeping an eye on Alessio out of the corner of my eye, when I hear a loud groan. I look at the screen and see Alessio having spasms. First orgasm.

With the vibrator still switched on, and his cock likely still sensitive after coming, Alessio struggles against his bonds for a few minutes. Then the excitement builds again and he relaxes.

It doesn’t take long before he comes again and the whole thing repeats itself. Bondage really does turn this lad on.

By the third time, the hour is almost up and I get up to go back to him.

I switch off the vibrator.

“Well, lad, it seems the punishment hasn’t completely killed your arousal,” I say to him as I start to undo his restraints. I gradually untie him until only the leather straps remain.

“Stand up,” I order him a bit curtly. He stands up in front of me and I remove all the restraints. Each one was secured with a padlock. I also unlock the bondage shorts and take them off him. Finally, I unlock the padlock on the muzzle and undo the straps, then remove it. He isn’t quite sure what to do with the sock and obediently keeps it in his mouth. I like this little humiliation—that he keeps the sock in his mouth of his own accord without being forced—so I decide not to take it out.

He stands completely naked before me, traces of his semen dripping down his stomach.

“Now it is time. Go to the bathroom and have a shower; I’ll get your clothes ready.”

He obeys, still with the sock in his mouth, and heads for the bathroom. As for me, I tidy up the gear a bit and go to put on my motorbike outfit. Yesterday he seemed quite aroused at the sight of my trousers and jacket. So I decide to go one better and put on a leather racing suit. I also love the feel of the leather against my skin and the look it gives me. And at this time of year, I can get away with wearing just a pair of boxer shorts under the suit.

When Alessio comes out of the bathroom and sees me like this, he can’t hide his surprise.

“Tuck that tongue away, boy, you’ll have a chance to use it later. Come over here.”

I have laid out his clothes from yesterday on the bed.

“Get dressed now, we’ve got to get going.”

He looks for his boxer shorts but can’t find them.

“But where are my underpants, Sir?”

When he turns his head, he notices that I am holding out a black jockstrap to him. After a few seconds’ hesitation, he takes it and puts it on.

I love how he does exactly what I want without asking any questions. Without questioning me. He then puts on his shorts and T-shirt and turns back to me.

“Good boy,” I say, looking at him. “I think you and I are both aware that there is something going on between us. But you need to take a break to think it all through, and I am not going to stop you from leaving. Once you’re on the train, I’ll send you a message with my thoughts on what comes next; the ball will be in your court. But know that in the space of a few hours, you’ve shown me that we could go far together; you’ve given yourself completely to me, and I am very grateful for that.”

As I said this, I put my hands on his shoulders, in a slightly paternalistic way.

“Now come on, it is time.”

Alessio grabs his bag and follows me down the stairs and into the garage, where I hand him a helmet.

“It is not going to be very practical with your bag, but my car’s broken down.”

I don’t want to tell him that is not true, but that I find it exciting that he is going to be pressed up against my leather during the journey. I start the engine and set off for Gothenburg. And indeed, judging by the way he is pressing himself against me, the feel of the leather isn’t leaving him indifferent.

After an hour’s drive, I pull into the station’s underground car park and park my motorbike on the lowest level, which is deserted at this time of day.

He hands me my helmet and doesn’t quite know what to say or do. But I’ve got one last surprise in store for him.

“Get on your knees, boy,” I order him curtly.

Without even checking if we might be seen, he obeys.

***

I kneel in front of Finn, who unzips the bottom of his trousers and pulls out his swollen cock.

He takes my head in his hands and presses it against his cock. I’ve wanted to do this several times over the last few hours, but I’ve always been stopped by the muzzle. So I open my mouth and take his cock as best I can. I am not exactly an expert, but I do my best to give him as much pleasure as possible. Being forced to suck him off in a public car park heightens my own arousal even more.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the brink of climax. I am a bit freaked out because we haven’t discussed this part. I don’t take other guys’ cum in my mouth. I hesitate to tell him this outright, but I don’t want to interrupt the moment while he is getting off.

“Stand up!” he orders. “Open your shorts!”

I do as I am told. He takes his cock in his hand and starts wanking. He moves closer to me, and just as he is about to come, he pulls on my jockstrap and cums inside it onto my half-erect cock with a long, powerful groan.

After making sure he is squeezed out every last drop, he puts my jockstrap back on and tucks his cock back into his leather suit.

“Close your shorts.”

I do so and feel Finn’s cum soaking into my jockstrap.

Once I have stood up straight, he takes my head in his hands and gives me a passionate kiss.

“That’ll be a little souvenir of me for you, boy. Come on now, get going or you’ll miss your train.”

I am a bit stunned by what’s just happened. I put my bag on my back while he gets on his motorbike. Just as he starts the engine, I turn back to him and this time I am the one who kisses him.

“Right, lad, sometimes you know how to take the initiative too,” he says, a bit surprised. “We’ll meet again,” he says, putting on his helmet.

“Sir, haven’t you forgotten something?” I say to him before he leaves, holding the padlock from the chain I always wear around my neck.

“Oh no, boy, that stays there; it is part of you now,” he says before closing his helmet visor and setting off.

I watch him ride off into the car park and stand there feeling a bit dazed, my backpack on my back, a chain around my neck and his cum in my underwear.

I still feel a bit aroused, but mostly sad. Sad to see him go. I take the padlock between my fingers as if it were a piece of him that had stayed with me. I could be scared of having a chain around my neck without the key, but actually I am flattered that he left me this necklace, that he chose me to wear it.

I head towards the platforms and get on the train to Stockholm. The drop of juice Finn left me hasn’t dried completely yet. Its scent rises to my nostrils, and I wonder if I am the only one who can smell it—because I know it is there—or if it is noticeable to everyone around me.

Looking back, I find it a bit gross that he did that. Yet at the time, I wasn’t shocked at all. He needed to let it all out, and he left it with me as a memento, so that I’d think of him over the next few hours.

I watch the scenery roll by outside the window, thinking back on everything that has happened since yesterday. The hours tick by and, now that the excitement of the moment has worn off, I wonder how I ended up here—eating on the floor next to a bloke I met the day before, serving him, having my balls slapped. And yet, every time I think about it, my cock gets a bit harder in my jockstrap. In fact, I am going to take the opportunity to go and get changed in the loo before we arrive in Stockholm.

Just as I open my bag, my phone rings and a Telegram notification pops up. I open the app and see the name ‘Sir Finn’ displayed. I open the message as I sit back down in my seat.

“My dear boy Ale.

“I hope your journey is going well and that you’re proudly wearing your chain over your T-shirt.”

To avoid the stares of others, I had tucked the padlock under my T-shirt. Instinctively, I pull it out again, as if Finn were watching me.

“I am sure that, like me, you’re overwhelmed by our meeting and by what happened between us. And I am sure that, like me, you don’t want to stop there. Now that you’re wearing my name around your neck,…”

His name? I try to look at the padlock but can’t bring myself to. I take a photo with my phone and notice that instead of the manufacturer’s mark, it is engraved with “Sir Finn’s boy” in capital letters.

“…Now that you’re wearing my name around your neck, you really are my boy. As experience has shown me that I must be wary of you coming without my permission, I’ve slipped a chastity cage into the side pocket of your bag. Along with it, there are a number of numbered plastic padlocks that will allow you to remove the cage—with my permission, of course—every four days to wash yourself.

“You are, of course, forbidden to ejaculate without my permission.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a cage like this before. You’ll hardly feel it during the day. The first few nights will be tricky, but after a week or two you’ll get used to it.

“A boy like you isn’t allowed to wear men’s underwear. So I’ve replaced your boxers with jockstraps and thongs, more suited to your condition.

“And I’ve also slipped a butt plug and some lube into a pocket; I’ll tell you when and how to use them.

“Oh, and don’t bother looking for the key to your collar’s padlock—it is around my neck. So you’ll have to come back to me to get it off.

“I hope you’re as keen as I am to see each other again. Your hiking route takes you through Gothenburg. I am giving you 50 days to cover the distance and be at my place by 15 July to continue your training.

“You could always go to a hardware shop to cut the chain and buy some underwear from a supermarket, but I know you won’t do that.

“Now, if you’ve understood the gist of this message and want to continue on this path, confirm it to me by text within an hour at the latest. After that, I’ll know you’ve given up.

“Make the right decision, boy!

“Sir Finn.”

My heart is racing.

***

I am sitting on my sofa watching TV. I wonder if Alessio is going to reply or not. Maybe, with the distance, he has come to his senses, taken a step back from what happened between us and started to get scared.

But my phone rings. A Telegram notification. “Boy Ale”. I sit up on the sofa and smile, thinking to myself that he has changed his name. I open the message. In reply to my message, I receive a photo of Alessio naked in a train toilet, his cock cageg, sniffing the jockstrap I had cum in. Then a second message with just two emojis: a heart and a padlock.

I lock my phone and slump back on the sofa. Satisfied. The story has only just begun.

To be continued …