Note: This is the final chapter of a multi-part story by lthr_jock. To start at the very beginning, click for The Bet – Part 1
“We’re here, Sir.”
I jerk awake, confused at the unfamiliar surroundings. I look at the face staring at me, the peaked-cap indicating his job as a chauffeur.
“We’re here, Sir. I’ll pick you up at 5:30 as usual, Sir.”
I mutter something to him and as I open the door, my left hand touches a brushed steel briefcase on the seat beside me. I grab it and get out of the car to find myself in front of the bank that I manage. I’m disoriented and confused and just stand there in the drizzle until a concierge comes out with an umbrella and ushers me into the building.
Inside, the receptionist gives me a dazzling smile and by the time I walk to the lifts, the express lift for the Executive Floor has arrived. I lean against the back wall of the lift and wonder what the hell is going on. The repeated “ping” indicates the lift passing floors as it progresses to the top of the building. I can see myself in the mirrored doors. I am wearing a well tailored suit, the fabric shining with a gleam that reminds me of the rubber that Bob made me wear. I’m clearly more muscled than I was before and my fully shaven head stands out in stark contrast to the suit.
I unlock the briefcase and open it, expecting some kind of twisted surprise.
Instead, I find paperwork and stationery. As I start to look through it, a final chime indicates the doors opening and I step out into the Executive Reception area. Almost immediately, Marcus bustles across to me. “So good to see you back, Sir. I hope you’re fully recovered.” I say something non-committal and start to walk towards my office. Marcus clearly notices my shaven head but doesn’t say anything, instead briefing me on my meetings for the day and the paperwork awaiting decisions on my desk. By the time we get to my office, I’m feeling more like my old self and it’s as though the bet had never happened.
The day continues in similar vein. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be in charge and as I chair my third meeting, it is clear that all of my employees are scared of me. After a hesitant start, I get back into the swing of it and start making decisions and barking orders. Marcus seems relieved that I am back to my old self and is a quiet presence by my side throughout the day.
At 5:30, I head back downstairs to find the car waiting for me. “Home, Sir, or gym?” I hesitate. “Gym.” “Very well.” He drives off and I take the opportunity to check my phone. There is nothing on there to indicate what I’ve been doing over the last week – or is it weeks? I really don’t know. I check the photos, but there’s nothing in there. It’s as though the whole bet was some kind of dream.
We arrive at the gym and I grab my sports bag out of the boot and head inside. I pause as I go in – surely someone here is going to remember what happened? For a moment, I don’t want to go in, then I steel myself and head inside. I almost immediately see someone I recognise and we spend a few minutes in polite conversation before I head into the locker room to change. As I lift out my workout gear, it is not the baggy gear I’m used to using and I head into the locker room in a tight white compression top, jockstrap and skin-tight compression shorts. My feet are laced into highly glossed wrestling boots. A couple of people smile as they see me in this gear, but it shows off my muscles really well and I enjoy the attention.
By the end of my workout, the shorts and shirt are soaked with sweat and are virtually see-through. I head to the locker room, shower and then head outside to the car. “Home.” The car pulls away and I settle back into the seat and doze.
“We’re here, Sir.”
Once again the driver has to wake me up and I grab my briefcase and sports bag and head inside. I’m still confused as to what is going on, but things get clearer once I get into my bedroom. On the bed are two suitcases. I open one and the smell of leather surrounds me, making my cock jump. Inside is a full leather uniform. The other is full of rubber and has a letter on top of it. I unfold it.
“Time to choose, buddy. Back to your old ways, or admit that you need to submit to me. I’ll be at the Backstreet at midnight.”
I look at the two suitcases and I’m conflicted. The power and authority I exerted today is intoxicating, and to keep that up would be enjoyable. But as I look at the rubber, I remember the feeling of submitting to domination, and I know that would be enjoyable too. I pull up a chair and sit, staring at the open suitcases as the time ticks by.
Bob is sitting at the bar when I walk into Backstreet. He is wearing leather from head to toe and looks every inch the top that I know him to be. In contrast, I am wearing rubber. My arse is plugged with a thick plug that I know can be remote controlled and my cock is locked in a steel chastity cage. On my legs are a pair of rubber chaps that cover my muscles like a gleaming second skin and Rangers are laced up to my knees. My torso is naked except for a rubber bulldog harness. Stefan is behind the bar and notices me. He walks over to me with a grin, “What’s my name, boy?” “Your name is Master Stefan.” He laughs and turns to go over to Bob but I call him back. I put two items on the bar and ask him to lock them on me. I also hand across the keys to the chastity.
Stefan is happy to oblige and he wraps the thick rubber collar around my neck. A thick strap of rubber hangs down from the back of it with wrist restraints hanging off it and Stefan straps and locks my wrists in place, securing my hands helplessly behind me. The second item is a ball gag that he pushes in place and then locks. “Good boy. Time to go and see Master Bob.”
Bob watches, pleased as I walk over to him. I sink to me knees and bow my head in front of him, confident that this is where I’m meant to be.
Click for previous part
Click to start at Part 1
The next story by this author is Substance Abuse
Metal would like to thank the author, lthr_jock, for this story!
This story is copyright © 2019 by lthrjock.
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