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.”
Just as he says that, my stomach gives a loud rumble. I haven’t eaten in over 12 hours and I’m starving. Bob grins and goes over to the bar, where he buys a couple of packets of salted peanuts. The barman also hands over a sports bottle with what looks like a protein shake inside. Bob crouches in front of me. “Now, slave, I’m going to have to un-gag you so that you can eat. I do not give you permission to speak. Every word you speak adds 10 minutes to your time. Do you understand?” I nod and he reached behind me to unlock the gag and he pulls out the ball gag. My jaw is aching and my mouth is full of drool. I nearly spit it out, but realise in time and gulp it down. “Thank You, Sir.” Bob raises an eyebrow, “ Thirty extra minutes.” I wince and realise my mistake – damn him, he would probably have penalised me for not thanking him. I twist so he can get access to my restraints so that I can use my hands. Bob shakes his head and pours some peanuts into the palm of his hand. “Lick them up, slave.”
I flush as I bend forward to lick up the peanuts. I’m unstable with my hands behind my back and he makes it worse by lowering his hand so that I have to bend over further. I manage to lick the peanuts up, getting a good taste of leather at the same time. I sit back up and he pours another few peanuts onto his palm. I lean forward again, now aware that he is deliberately making this take a long time. His reason becomes clear as the club opens and people start to walk in. The first thing they see is a muscled, rubber-clad man licking up peanuts from the hand of the leather Top. They soon realise who I am, and several take out phones and take pictures of me. I can’t do anything to stop them, and I keep licking up the peanuts. As soon as I taste one, my hunger seems to increase and I need more. I ignore the fact that the salt is making me thirsty, I just carry on licking them up.
Soon the peanuts are all gone and I become aware of my increasing thirst. I’ve just gulped down two packets of peanuts on an empty stomach and my mouth is full of salt and dry. “You thirsty, slave?” I nod, not wanting another forfeit. Bob just looks at me and I realise the trap – but if I want a drink, I can’t avoid it. “Yes, Sir.” Bob smiles “I’ll get you a drink then – and that’s another 20 minutes, slave.” Bob picks up the sports bottle and inserts the nozzle into my mouth. As he squeezes the bottle, I realise that he’s made it up with vodka rather than water. I try to pull back, but his grip on the chain keeps me in place and I have to gulp the alcoholic brew down. I hate vodka at the best of times – which Bob knows – but I also know that if I spill any, he will add forfeit time. So I gulp the fiery liquid down until the bottle is empty. When Bob holds up the ball gag, I open my mouth for him to re-apply it. My head is spinning from the alcohol and I shake my head to try and clear it. Bob looks at me happily and stands up to return to the bar, leaving me alone on the stage. I watch as several people I know, both tops and subs, go up to speak to Bob. I am clearly the topic of conversation and several of them come over to me to rub my hair as if I was a dog, to tweak my nipples until I grunt into the gag, or to reach behind me and fondle my arse. I remain passive and do not resist – not that I could – but as I do, I become aware that my cock is trying to grow in the cock cuff. Each touch, each fondle makes it worse and I wince in pain as it tries to burst free.
Bob sees that I am in some pain and comes over. “Problem, slave? Does the chastity hurt?” I nod. “Well, do you want it removed?” I think about what might happen if he removes it, but the constant pain is too much and I nod again. “Are you sure?” Nod. Bob leans forward and unlocks the chastity. It’s tender as he removes it, but soon my 8” cock is erect in front of me. Bob smiles and pockets the cock cuff before returning to the group at the bar.
I don’t know where to look. Every time I look up, I see someone I know – including lots of subs that I have used in this very club. I look at the floor instead, not really considering how submissive that makes me look. My cock stays erect in front of me, not going down and I wonder if there was something else in that protein drink to make it do that. It leaves me very vulnerable and I’m determined not to cum – Bob doesn’t need that extra 24 hours. I become aware of someone behind me as they crouch down and push their leather covered crotch into my hands. They wrap leather covered arms around me and pull me back against them, my trapped arms stuck against their muscled chest. I can feel the weight of their cock as they whisper “Stroke me, slave.” I look up to see Bob watching and he nods to me, so I carefully open their fly and pull out their cock and balls. I begin to stroke their cock with one hand while I tickle their balls with the other. I soon feel their cock swelling and pushing against me. I can hear them groaning as they use their gloved hands to tickle and tease at my nipples. My cock starts to twitch and I look down to see precum pearling on the tip. I can hear the man behind me getting more and more excited and I know it won’t be long before he cums.
To my surprise, he pulls away from me before cumming and walks around in front of me. I look up at him and recognise Frank – but tonight he is dressed in leather Top gear and is clearly not the sub I met yesterday. His impressive cock is in his hand and he strokes it to completion. Cum jets out and spurts over my face. Frank uses his gloved hand to clean his cock off and then wipes the cum into my hair. “Bob told me that I’d have fun if I subbed for you yesterday, slave. Look at you now – all covered in cum and clearly enjoying it.” He was right – my cock was still hard and I’m having trouble stopping myself from cumming all over the floor.
Frank walks over to Bob and the two men exchange a deep kiss. They then look over at me and laugh. For some reason, that makes me feel hornier and I desperately try and think of unsexy things to try and control my cock: women, modern jazz, Boris Johnson. It’s no good, I can feel the climax building and to my humiliation I erupt, spewing cum over the stage. Bob high-fives Frank and then walks up to me. “That’s another 24 hours then, slave. And an extra hour for dirtying up the stage.” He then returns to the bar, leaving me there as the focus of the crowded bar.
The night goes past slowly. Bob comes back at regular intervals to feed me more peanuts and vodka-laced protein drink. My cock stays obstinately rock hard, though mercifully I don’t cum again. Several of my subs come up and are photographed with me, pushing their cocks against my face, pretending to mount me or stroking my aching tumescent cock. Each time, photos are taken and I know that I will never be able to deal with them in the same way again. Twinks that I would normally spurn take the chance to spit in my face and in my hair. Beer is poured over me, making my rubber slick and smelly. My head is spinning from the constant infusions of vodka and it’s like a strange dream.
The suddenly, I become aware that the music has stopped and the crowd has gone. Only Bob and the barman is left at the bar and the lights are raised on the empty club. I realise that I must have been here all night. My arms feel completely dead and my knees and mouth are aching. And my damn cock is still rock-hard in front of me. Bob seems to be engrossed in his phone as the barman walks up to me. He’s well built, in his twenties and wearing a leather waistcoat, leather jeans and boots. He crouches down. “You don’t even know my name do you? I’ve served you in here for 4 years and you don’t even know my name.” He nods his head back towards Bob. “Bob knows my name. He says you have three guesses. If you can’t guess it, I get to have some fun.” He pulled out a key and unlocked my gag. I gulped down the accumulated spit.
“Look I’m sorry…” “Shut it. What’s my name?” I have absolutely no idea, and take a wild guess. “Umm.. John.” “Not even close. Second guess.” “Steve?” “Last try.” I shake my head and struggle to remember but the booze makes the memory elude me. “Gary?” He grins and stands up, walks over to Bob and returns with something in his hands. “My name is Stefan” he says as he pushes the gag back in, tightens it as far as possible and re-applies the lock. “Stefan. You better not forget that name again, slave.” I feel him reaching down between my buttocks and realise that he is undoing the arse zip on the suit. “Bob has been nice so far – he hasn’t plugged his friend. But you’re not my friend, you’re just a slave.” I feel something pushing at the entrance to my arse and I know what is happening next. The rubber tip of the plug pushes inside me and I yell into the gag at the feeling of it forcing its’ way into my arse. Stefan is relentless and he continues to push it in, opening my arse wider and wider until the base is reached and my arse snaps shut holding it in place. My arse is filled for the first time. Tears run down my face as Stefan closes the arse zip and returns to Bob.
Bob grabbed Stefan around the back of the neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He looks across at me and then reaches down to cup Stefan’s arse before walking across to me, still hugging the younger man. “See, slave, it pays to remember the little people. Now look at you. What a fucking mess. You’re not in the right state to be taken home.” Bob turns to Stefan. “Now what can we do about that?” Stefan chuckles and whispers in Bobs ear. Bob fakes a look of surprise, “What a great idea. Do you have everything needed?” Stefan nods and then heads off behind the bar. He comes back with a washing bowl full of hot water and several items. As he sets them down beside Bob, I see a straight razor and a can of shaving foam. I think I know what’s going to happen. I know I’m right as he puts a big glob of foam into his hand and then spreads it over my head. The warm foam soaks into my hair and I look at a mirror to see all my hair covered with foam. He then hands the razor to Bob. “Hold still, slave,” Bob says and he starts to remove my hair.
Bob has clearly done this before and soon clumps of hair and soap are falling down onto my rubbered torso and sliding onto the floor. I can see glimpses of my head as he denudes it of hair. Bob pauses to unlock and unstrap the gag, though he tells me to keep the ball in my mouth. I don’t dare refuse as I’m trying to keep as still as possible and I feel the blade of the razor sliding down the back of my head. When Bob is satisfied, the gag is locked in place again. He stands back and Stefan hands him a cloth. He uses it to rub the flecks of foam off of my head and to clean his gloves and then pours the water left in the bowl over me. Stefan holds up his phone and takes a couple of pictures, then shows me the result – my head is completely clean-shaven. I look completely different and my moustache and goatee look strangely out of place. “Much better, slave,” says Bob. “Now you look the part.”
Bob and Stefan go back to the bar, where Stefan pours Bob a whisky and a vodka for himself. The two men talk in low voices. They sit close to each other and Stefan reaches across to stroke Bob’s crotch. He reaches down to unzip Bob and I can see his cock pulled out – I realise that although Bob is smaller than me, his cock is longer and must be nearly a foot in length. Stefan looks across at me and grins and, while still stroking Bob’s cock, whispers something to him. Bob chuckles and nods and Stefan walks back over to me. “Slave, you are watching things that aren’t your business and it must stop.” He pulls a rubber blindfold out of his back pocket and secures it over my head, blinding me. I then hear something else and feel pressure against the edges of my face as well as straps going around the back of my freshly shaven head. I can suddenly hear my breathing and realise he has strapped a gas mask on me. I can imagine what I look like now – restrained and fully rubbered, the gas mask making me look less human and more like a gimp. This time, I can feel my cock responding and I try to mentally force it down. I hear Stefan chuckle and the gas mask is flooded with a sweet smell – poppers. I inhale them before I have a chance to hold my breath and they add to the alcohol to make my head spin even more.
I can hear the sounds being made by Stefan and Bob – creaking of leather, low moans of guttural pleasure, the wet slap of flesh against flesh, the rhythmic sounds made as one man fucks the other, the groans getting louder as both men approach climax and the yells of pleasure subsiding as they climax and then come down from the high. The yells of pleasure are joined by groans of pleasure and disappointment from me as I cum again and I barely hear Bob say “another 24 hours, slave.”
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Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story! Be sure to leave a comment in the comments section below, if you like this!