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Story

The Bet – Chapter 04

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By lthr_jock

I have trouble getting to sleep. The pad on the floor of the cage isn’t thick enough to stop me feeling the bars on the floor of the cage. I can’t fully stretch out and the two layers of rubber are making me sweat and I’m lying in a pool of it. Every move is accompanied by a squeak of rubber and a puff of air that is laden with sweat. The hood is making my freshly shaved head sweat too, and it feels weird against my hairless skin. Worse, I need to piss and there is no way with the mitts on that I can get my cock out of the two layers of rubber. I try to hold it, but in the end I have to surrender and I feel the hot flow of piss inside my rubber suit. Now the sweat is joined by what feels like a lake of piss. Feeling dirty and humiliated, I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up and for a moment I don’t remember where I am. I try to sit up and bang my head on the roof of the cage. As I reach up to rub it, I see the rubber mitts and I recall what’s going on. There is enough light coming through the blinds to show me the room. I have no idea what the time is and wonder how long until Bob lets me out. I try to sleep again, but I’m really uncomfortable. My balls and cock are aching and are still visible down my leg.

I tentatively touch my cock with my mitted hands and almost immediately it springs back to full size. I can feel the tension around my balls and know that I’m close to cumming and in danger of losing another 24 hours. I try to distract myself my wriggling around to examine the front door of the cage. Each movement reminds me of the mixture of fluids slowly rising inside the rubber suit and I hope that Bob’s plan includes a shower in the near future.

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Story

The Bet – Chapter 03

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By lthr_jock

I sit there, no sounds except my breath in the gas mask and the squeaking of the rubber suit. I can feel my sweat running down my skin and pooling inside it. My arms are cramping painfully and my damn cock is still erect in front of me. I move my head blindly, trying to work out what is happening. When Bob speaks, he is so close to me that I jump and I can hear my breathing become more rapid.

“Less than 8 hours in and you’ve got to do 2 extra days already. Reckon you’ll be missing work on Monday.” I feel his gloved hand on my cock, which twitches with arousal. “And the way this cock is standing here, I reckon you’ll lose another day soon. Unless we do something about it.” Bob pauses. “Would you like me to do that, slave? Would you like me to do something to slow you down? It will cost you another three hours.” I pause and think. Three extra hours or the risk of another day. I nod eagerly. “Good slave. Stand up.”

I struggle to my feet, my arms still trapped behind me. I feel Bob’s hands around my balls and he pulls them as far away from my body as he can. I whimper into the gag, as I feel other hands secure a thick rubber strap around them, stretching them down and away from my body. I then feel another rubber strap secured tightly around the root of my cock. “There, slave, that should stop you from cumming quite so easily.” As Bob speaks, he gently slaps my cockhead, making my cock wave in front of me. I know he’s right, but the straps will also ensure my cock remains erect.

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Story

The Bet – Chapter 02

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By lthr_jock

As we walk into the club, it is empty except for the two barmen still setting up. The music is on but at a lower level than it will be later. Bob has clearly arranged this last night, because the small stage is empty except for a heavy chain locked to a ring protruding from the centre of the stage. Bob unclips the leash from my collar and padlocks the chain to the front. The weight of it pulls my head down. The chain is about 6 ft long so allows me to stand (just) but if I stay on all fours, I can get to near the edge of the stage. That is I can until Bob padlocks my ankle shackles to the ring. Now I have no choice but to remain here in full view of everyone who comes into the club.

Bob crouches down in front of me. The rubber suit is making me sweat and I can feel it pooling inside the suit. My muscles are already aching from the stress position that my arms are in. “OK, slave, so here you are nicely on display for everyone coming in to see. I think they need to see the man who has Topped so many of them reduced to being a rubber slave, don’t you?” I shake my head in the negative, grunting into the gag and begging him to put the hood back on. All I succeed in doing is making myself drool even more. Bob wipes up the drool with one gloved hand and then smears it in my already messy hair. He tuts, “What a mucky slave. I might have to shave that head later – slaves don’t need hair.” My eyes widen at the thought and I continue to try and beg him not to.

Bob stands up “what a loud slave. I might have to find some way to quieten you down.”

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Story

The Bet – Chapter 01

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By lthr_jock

As I park my BMW in the quiet street, I’m feeling nervous. I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m not used to this queasy roil in the pit of my empty stomach. I look up at the house I’m visiting and part of me wants to turn around and drive home – and it’s a big part. But I made a deal, and I don’t back out of deals. But this deal is such a tough one. I lean back in the leather seat and close my eyes. What was I thinking? How did I get myself into this stupid position? I think back to yesterday evening – it all started so normally.

I look at myself in the mirror before getting dressed to head out to Backstreet. I’m 40 now and while I’m not as fit as I was when I was 25, I’m still muscled and give the gym bunnies a run for their money when I hit the weights – which is most days. At 6ft2” I’m a natural top and I have the rugged face that comes from my Polish heritage. My black hair is greying and I keep it short – No 1 crop at the sides and longer on top. I have a thick moustache and neat goatee and am hairy most everywhere else. Everything about me screams “Top” which makes life very easy indeed as that’s the role I love to play. I grin as I imagine what everyone else at the bank would say if they saw what their manager gets up to in his free time. I run my hands through my hair, using some gel to spike it in place and then I get ready to head out.

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Story

Hallowe’en by lthr_jock

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By lthr_jock

“Shane, seriously, why are we doing this?”

The 6-foot-tall blond looked at his shorter friend. “I don’t even want to go to the damn party.”

Pete put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Like I said, Mary will be there and this is your final chance.” The two stood beside each other looked like an advert for clean living. Both were well built and healthy, both with unruly blond hair. Shane and Pete had been friends since they started school. Now, at the age of 20, they were back in town on a visit. Both had gone off to the same university and were taking a short break to visit their families. Their quiet visit had been interrupted when Shane spotted an old flame and spent the evening moping about her. Pete had come up with the idea of them attending the local Hallowe’en Party in the hope that it would cheer Shane up.

“Yeah, yeah, but she isn’t going to go for me with me wearing some damn costume.”

“But you have to be in costume to get in. Seriously, Shane, she’ll appreciate you’ve gone to some effort.”

Shane sighed and pushed open the door to the Costume Shop. The shop hadn’t been there when they were at school and the pair had spotted it by accident as they were wandering around looking for inspiration.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 9

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By lthr_jock

The next day, Davis had a day off work but he still started off early with a heavy two-hour session at the gym and an eight-mile run. As he towelled off after his shower, he looked at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. The gym was definitely working on him – he now had some serious definition on his abs under his pelt of hair, and when he did a double bicep pose his arms swelled impressively. His legs were similarly growing, and his arse was definitely getting tighter. His new high and tight haircut looked good against his craggy face, and removing the beard and moustache had taken 10 years off him. He grabbed his electric razor and shaved, remembering to run it around his head to preserve the effect of the haircut.

He padded naked through to his bedroom and opened up his wardrobe to decide what to wear today. The card he had been given the night before had an address on one side and the words “Cohiba Esplendidos” on the other side. The address was close to a local shopping centre, so he decided to drive there. He grabbed some clothes and started to put them on.

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Story

Training the Sergeant – Part 8

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By lthr_jock

Davis submissively allowed himself to be led across the club, the thick leather of the collar around his neck somehow as reassuring as it was arousing. As they moved through the crowd, he felt hands running over his leathers, caressing his muscles through it, and with a groan he pressed against them. He felt a hand fumble at the buckle of his Sam Brown and looked down to see who it was. As he did so, Fletcher stopped walking and jerked on his leash.

“Eyes FRONT, Sergeant.”

Davis obeyed and fixed his eyes on Fletcher’s face. Fletcher dropped the leash and stood where he could get a good view. Davis felt the Sam Brown being undone and the leather strap fed out from under his right epaulette. He could feel the straps dangling down against his leathered legs as the unseen hands unbuckled his jacket and unzipped it. Without moving his eyes, he could see glimpses and reflections in the mirrored shades Fletcher was wearing. Several men were clustered around Davis – all of them wearing some form of leather or rubber, though some were virtually naked.

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Training the Sergeant – Part 7

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By lthr_jock

Davis was gasping as he pounded up the pavement at the end of his eight-mile run. Going on a run was not unusual for Davis – the length of the run and what he was wearing was. He had on a pair of black Underarmour compression shorts, a black and orange pair of Adidas trainers and a sleeveless orange and black compression vest. He had on nothing else except his iPod, which was docked in a holder on his right bicep. Today’s run had been a good one, so he’d done eight rather than five miles. It felt like he was floating along, so he had cranked the music up and ran around oblivious to the stares of the public, who got an extremely good view of the bulge barely hidden by his shorts.

As he approached his house he saw someone stepping away from his doorstep. He pulled out his ear-buds. “Hey there – can I help you with something?”

The man turned and Davis recognised him, though he wasn’t totally sure from where. It was a 6-foot tall young black man – maybe in his late 20s. He was wearing a tight pair of leather jeans, boots and a white wife-beater vest under a leather jacket. His hair was neatly trimmed and he was clean-shaven.

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