The Long Weekend

By VANS fag

VANS fag author thumbnail MetalbondNYC

Author’s Note: The BOSS has controlled, micro-managed, chastized, tattooed and humiliated VANS fag since August 2008 in a TPE (total power exchange) relationship. VANS fag is an alpha male publicly but a permanently chastised dildofag in the playroom and kink world.


I worked hard organizing a good long weekend escape. Plane tickets to Montreal, limos to and from the airport, three nights at a queer, kink-friendly B&B in the gay neighbourhood and tickets to a popular fetish party on Saturday night. I knew the BOSS and Mike, his latest boyfriend, would enjoy the trip but I wasn’t sure what would happen to me. The Boss would only say mysteriously, “Don’t worry. I haven’t forgotten you.”

Thursday after work the BOSS threw a bag of clothes at my feet. “Mike and I made a special trip to Goodwill to pick up some clothes just for you. Now strip and get dressed. You have a bus to catch.”

Inside the bag was a ratty black IRON MAIDEN t-shirt with cut-off sleeves and cropped at the waist to show my belly button. The was also a pair of flimsy, baby blue nylon running shorts that were too small, a pair of trashed no-name hightop sneakers, an old baseball cap with a marijuana leaf embroidered on the front, a pair of dirty gray wool work socks and a stained jockstrap.

The BOSS pulled out his phone to take a picture. “Mike will definitely want to see this,” he said. Then he handed me a small package of cigarettes. The box was empty but inside was a folded-up bus ticket and exactly $4.85 in small change. I started to get an adrenaline rush. My armpits were sweaty and my dick started to get hard in its cage.

“You’ll have to run if you want to get to catch the bus. Wait for Bob at the bus station in Belleville.” The BOSS pushed me out the door and closed it quickly behind me.

I realized as the door shut that I didn’t have my phone. Or my keys to the house. Or my bank or credit card. Or any ID. Just a bus ticket and $4.85. But I didn’t have time to think. I only had about 20 minutes to get to the bus station, which was just doable if I ran.

I made the bus with five minutes to spare. My ticket was one-way only. What normally was a two-hour drive would take four hours and eight minutes according to the ticket. I moved quickly to the back of the bus and fell into the seat with a sense of relief.

As we pulled out of the station, when my heart stopped pounding from the run and the adrenaline rush, I began to worry. I was hungry and thirsty. And I had four hours and eight minutes to think about Bob.

Bob is a true sadist, a straight sadist. He is an expert in whipping, flogging and caning. He prefers women so he doesn’t see me as a sexual object, simply as flesh to cause pain. Bob is also an expert at bondage, but not the fetishistic kind. For Bob bondage is simply a means to immobilize flesh. His bondage isn’t pretty but it is 100 percent effective.

So I began to worry about the days ahead of me. There would be lots of pain with only enough time to recover between sessions. My body would have welts for weeks. Even still, my dick was trying to get hard. Not because of Bob or the pain, but because I belong to a man who imagined this weekend for me.

It would have been wise to sleep, but I couldn’t. I arrived one hour late, hungry, tired and thirsty. I got a bottle of water and a Snickers bar from a vending machine in the bus station. That left me with $0.85 in my pocket. It was a summer night but I was getting cold. I sat down and waited for Bob.

When he arrived after a long time, he was no-nonsense. He stopped the car in front of me, leaned over, opened the passenger door and said “Get in.” There was no other conversation as we headed into the countryside. We arrived at a large, metal-clad barn. He pressed a remote and we drove inside.

He ordered me to strip to my socks, then threw a pair of army boots at me and told me to put them on. He shackled my right ankle to a three-foot chain anchored to an eye bolt in the floor. He walked back to the car and reversed it out of the barn. The garage door closed remotely and the lights went dark.

My long weekend was just beginning.

Metal would like to thank VANS fag and The BOSS for sharing this true story!

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