By BondageChallengeGames
My heart raced. Coach’s hand slid up my thigh and stopped right at the edge of my speedo. My cock twitched.
“Do you think you earned it?” He grabbed my collar and leaned close to my ear, “did you make me proud out there?”
“Yes, coach,” I said. I was still sore from the morning. “I gave you everything I had.”
He grabbed my hard cock through my speedo and squeezed. I winced and tensed my muscles. The tight but comfortable leather cuffs on my wrist and ankles kept my limbs secure to the chair.
I heard the rip of an envelope. The note inside determined my fate. Whether I was about to be rewarded or punished for my performance that morning. He pulled my blindfold down to show me the note.
That Morning
“Endurance,” Marcus said. He slid the folded paper into the envelope. “That’s what I want to see today.”
He held the open envelope to my face. I licked the top. He sealed it closed.
“Yes, coach.”
He glanced down. Stole a glance at my cock though my tight speedo. He smiled.
“Good. I’ll be watching.” He turned to leave me alone in the otherwise empty locker room but stopped before he opened the door.
“See you tonight.”
“Yes coach!” I stifled a grin, but my eyes betrayed the butterflies in my stomach.
Marcus left. I took a second to steady my pounding heart and got to work.
The pool would be empty for a half an hour or so. As head of facilities, Marcus let us both in before opening. Some days I left before anyone else showed up to swim. But on days like this — ‘endurance’ days — I’d be swimming laps long past the point the first visitors had already come and done their workout.
I dove, breaking the perfectly still water. I started steadily. I was measured. Conserving my energy as best I could.
‘Endurance’ had meant a number of things in the past. Sometimes he’d judged me on how long I’d stayed at the gym. Sometimes for how long I’d swam continuously without a break. Sometimes for how long of breaks I took between each set of laps. I could only guess what the card in that envelope said.
So I swam. I swam back and forth down the lane. I kept moving longer than I normally would before taking a break. That break was shorter than my muscles would have liked. I hopped back in the water.
Lap after lap, long set after long set, short break after short break I pushed. I pushed through exhaustion. I pushed through boredom. I pushed through the aching feeling that maybe I’d long since met coach’s challenge.
When I finally could swim no more, I pulled myself out of the pool. My fingers wrinkled. My arms and legs barely able to move. I turned to the security camera, hoping coach was watching.
I left the gym and went to my job. On days like these I wasn’t a great worker. My mind wandered, I constantly checked and rechecked my phone for a message from coach Marcus. We’d text casually, he’d send me videos he thought I’d find funny, I’d complain about the high-strung college students that came to my office. I’d grin ear to ear every time I got a notification that he’d texted back. At 31 I was probably too old to be so embarrassingly giddy every time I got a message from my crush, but I didn’t care, I couldn’t help it.
We got dinner together at a cheap burger place beside the college we both worked at. We talked for a good hour. He never so even hinted at the fact that I was about to be his prisoner, but we both knew it. The anticipation built without words.
We took the bus to his place. I cleaned out in his bathroom and changed back into my speedo. In his bedroom, he stood with his face inches from mine and ran his hands down my sides. He grabbed my ass with his left hand and moved his right to trace the length of my hard cock. His right hand kept moving my trembling body until it reached my neck. He wrapped his strong hand around my throat.
“Ready?”
“Yes, coach!”
He squeezed, then released. Coach covered my eyes with a blindfold. I heard rattling metal and felt him lock leather ankle and wrist cuffs on me. He led me blindfolded into his room to a sturdy wooden chair and padlocked the cuffs to eyebolts on both sides. I was trapped. I was at his mercy.
Only now would he reveal whether or not I’d met his challenge. Only now, when I couldn’t fight or run away, when I would be forced to enjoy the reward or suffer the consequence.
As he pulled down my blindfold I saw the writing on the envelope. I saw his stern expression.
I’d failed.
“I’m disappointed, Jason.”
“Please coach, I -”
He slapped me across my face. He grabbed a ball gag from the dresser behind him and shoved it in my mouth. He pulled the gag’s straps tight and pulled the blindfold back down over my eyes.
“Maybe this will motivate you to work harder next time.”
My leg shook as I waited to see what punishment he had in store. Without warning, I felt the last of a whip against my chest. I screamed into my gag. He whipped me again.
Five lashes. Five screams. Each time my muscles tensed and pulled against my restraints. I tried to shift and move away, but there was no position I could get in where the couch couldn’t whip me.
He gave me a break. This was also torture. I knew more lashes were coming, but I’d have no warning. Every subtle sound made me wince.
Finally, he hit me again, and I remembered why I’d been so afraid. Five more lashes. Five more screams. By the last two I would arch my whole body off the chair, desperate to get away, but fully unable to.
Another break. Another few minutes of dread. This time ended when coach put clamps on my nipples.
I heard him move around the room. He was setting something up.
The clamps made a dull pain. It came on slowly, unlike the whipping. But it came nonetheless. It built and built until I was desperate for him to take them off.
Coach returned, he pulled the chain on the nipple clamps. I screamed. He took them off of me, then slapped my pecs.
He unlocked my wrists from the chair, ordered me to stand, and then relocked the cuffs behind my back. He released my ankles from the chair but kept them in cuffs, then coach pulled my speedo down. He took off my blindfold. With his strong arms, Coach guided me to a sawhorse and locked my ankles to the legs. He unlocked my arms and relocked them to the front legs of the sawhorse.
I was bent over, rock hard, fully naked, and completely at his mercy.
“You like that?”
I moaned as he teased my defenseless asshole. Coach tickled my balls and moved his hard cock so it could feel it right at the entrance to my ass. I flexed and shifted my weight on the sawhorse.
“Not yet.”
He stepped away and returned with a whip. I shook my head and tried to pull out of my cuffs.
“This is your fault boy,” he said, “this is what you deserve.”
He whipped my back until I was on the verge of tears. He gave my back a reprieve and whipped my ass. The pain was excruciating. I loved it. I hated it. I needed it.
In the moments between lashing, I thought about how I would look in the pool in a few days. What would people think when they saw the bruises on my back? Would they take one look at me and clock me for the sub I was? A little bitch who craved restraint, begged for pleasure, and needed punishment?
Finally, coach stopped whipping me. I felt a lubed-up finger slide inside my hole. I moaned again and begged him through my gag to fuck me. He played with my hole, long enough to get me relaxed, long enough to get me ready, long enough I couldn’t focus on anything but how much I wanted him inside me.
Then he fucked me.
Slowly first. Then faster. Harder. Until the whole sawhorse rocked. He grabbed my hips and forced himself deeper inside of me. I screamed with ecstasy. My dick twitched and started to leak. He reached his hand around to jack me off.
I felt his grip tighten. He pushed as deep in my ass as he could go. He came inside me and hele his cock in my ass until I’d shot my own load into his hand.
We stayed there for a minute. His dick filling me, his firm grasp cradling my dick, his left hand gently squeezing my hip. Then he pulled away.
He untied me, and we spent a beautiful night in each other’s glow.
Metal would like to thank the author, BondageChallengeGames, for this story! He based it on images from Dream Boy Bondage
