By MetalbondNYC

A quick recap: It all started a few years back when I signed up for a personal training program. On just the second day when I worked out with Bryan, I was at the gym for more than four hours, and the workout not only included the actual workout, but being used sexually as well. In the locker room after the personal training session, that first week, I was subjected to bondage, forced nudity, discipline and humiliation — plus a very cruel and painful form of chastity. As I said, that was just the first week. Things got even worse from there. It was sort of like slipping down a rabbit hole. Or, as my buddy Mark would say, getting caught in quicksand.

The personal training program I had signed up for back then — the Motivator Plan, it was called — involved my being fitted with wrist bands, similar to those “fitness tracker” or “activity tracker” bracelets they have now. Except I had these on both wrists, plus another one around the base of my cock and balls, like a snug cockring. All completely unremovable. The bands were made of — well, actually, I should say they ARE made of — a rubberized metallic material, with high-tech gadgetry inside allowing trainers to use remote control to inflict pain, restrict movement and enforce or prevent all sorts of behaviors. The idea behind them, I was told at the time, is that they can be used to motivate the wearer to complete the tenth rep or whatever. You see, the band around the cock and balls can deliver electric zaps ranging from annoyingly sharp (what they call the “alert shot”) to acutely painful (the “warning shot”) to a shot that is so excruciatingly awful that it will literally knock you down to the ground (the “punishment shot”). Do the exercise as instructed, follow the commands of the trainer to complete your set, and you are good. But if you fail to comply, they can use the shocker to “motivate” you.

Part of the Motivator Plan also meant that I had to perform chores around the gym, at the instruction of the trainers. Oh, and probably the most consequential thing of all is that Bryan had also used his remote to activate what he called the “orgasm deterrent” feature on my bands. What that meant, and what I learned in a much more painful manner a bit later, which I will get to in a moment, is that if either of my wrist bands got within six inches of the cockring band, it activated all three shots in sequence.

So, I was now effectively banned from beating off.

I hated my predicament a great deal of the time back then, yet I also loved it. The workouts were vigorous and intense, and the diet regimen imposed on me very strict. But after just three months I saw great results, with my waistline shrinking and my muscle tone and overall fitness improving even more after six months and beyond. Today I have a whole new body. Now I can stand in one of the two-by-two, glass-enclosed vertical posing cages they have in the front lobby of the gym wearing just a pair of shorts and even turn heads of some of the other guys here. I am grateful for being able to do that.

The way I see it, it’s all about the training bands. It’s one thing to go through something difficult, an extreme regimen, but quite another if you have no choice in the matter. Sort of like a locked-on collar used as an instrument of control. You might hate wearing it at times, yet at other times you can’t imagine life without it.

But I am getting way ahead of myself here. Let’s go back to that workout session back in the first week, and what happened soon afterward.

I had just worked out with Bryan, then after my shower I ended up getting stuck naked with all of my clothes, keys and wallet locked in Bryan’s locker. Then Dave, one of the other trainers, used his remote to lock my training bands together, behind my back. Bryan was already working with his next client of the day when I returned from my shower with my clothes locked in his locker (I had forgotten my lock that day), so I had to wait naked in the locker room for an hour for him to come back.

When he did come back, I was still rock hard and had gotten even harder when I saw him with his sleeveless under armor shirt on, and I soon found myself on my knees, blowing him. He taunted me the whole time.

“Yeah, Dave and John had you pegged as a real sucker for the Motivator Plan,” Bryan said, referring to Dave, the trainer who had given me the personal training flier, and John, the head trainer, who had taken my measurements. “And judging by the way you suck cock, I can tell they were right.”

I attempted to look up at Bryan with his cock in my mouth, but he grabbed my head and pushed me back down.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” he said. Then he continued.

“Yeah those guys thought you would be just the right candidate for this. For taking your gym regimen to the next level, a much more serious level. Ain’t that right, Rick? What do you say?”

“Uh-huh,” I made the noise for, not taking Bryan’s hard cock out of my mouth. A few times he held my head down and I could feel him stiffen as he forcefully pushed past my gag reflex into my throat. My eyes were watery, and there was lots of that slimy spit by now.

“I hope you enjoy sucking cock, because you are likely to be doing a lot of it here in the trainers locker room,” he said.

I could not see behind me, but at times while I was sucking I thought I heard someone else I did not recognize standing there. Maybe there were two guys, I was not sure.

“You aren’t going to be wasting much time playing with that dick of yours, either,” Bryan taunted. “Your life is going to revolve around working out, eating right, sleeping, and doing what I say.”

I could feel him getting harder, stiffer, more worked up as he was saying all this, which made me think that perhaps having a cock-sucking client under his control was a fantasy for him come true for him. But I was mostly concentrating on his cock. And what he was doing to my mouth and throat with it. Eventually he stood up and grabbed his cock, covered in my slobber, in his hand.

“Open,” he instructed, and he shot big gobs of cum right at me. A lot of it went right in my mouth in several powerful spurts, but some got me in the face.

He recovered quickly, toweled himself off, then he got dressed as I watched, still hard. Then he took my clothes out of his locker and set them on the floor.

“I’ll tell Dave to unlock your wrists so you can go home,” he said, as he started to walk out. “See you next time,” he said over his shoulder. “And don’t be late.”

I waited another five or ten minutes for Dave to come back. Before clicking his remote to release me so I could go home, he delivered a warning shot to my balls.

 

***

 

I went right home after that. I was a ball of nerves all the rest of the day, absolutely terrified that I might accidentally let my hands get too close to my dick. I did not want to set off the jolts on the cock ring. Bryan had said I have up to 30 seconds to have my hands close to the cockring before the alert, warning and punishment shots would be triggered, but I did not want to take any chances. I felt reassured, though, that I had already gone about 48 hours without any painful incidents.

While working from my home office, I made sure to keep my arms on top of my desk the whole time. Fixing meals was no trouble, and I even managed to get the hang of pissing under this new regimen, by pulling down my underwear and letting my dick point down to the toilet, usually without making too much of a mess.

It wasn’t until later that night, when I tried to sleep, that I realized just how screwed I was.

Despite my physical exhaustion, I had tossed and turned for hours. I could not stop thinking of the events of the past week, culminating in Bryan’s “cocksucker training session” with me. I thought back on finding out about the personal training program from the head trainer, John, then later getting measured and photographed by him and trying to conceal my hard-on, then signing their contract for Bryan without reading it carefully like I should have, because Bryan was so hot that he got me all tripped up.

Then having him fit me with these fucking wrist bands and cockring. Then later the thrill of servicing him and taking his load in my mouth and face, while being observed by some of the other trainers. I could not stop thinking about this. Normally I would have beat off and fallen right to sleep. But tonight, that was not going to happen.

It was just after 1 a.m. when the shocks started. I had been so careful the past two nights, but this time I was just drifting off when I felt the unmistakable alert shot. One of my hands must have gotten too close! I moved both hands over my head immediately, but it was too late. The warning shot followed, making me tense up all over my body. I was on my side at the time, but when the punishment shot hit I rolled over onto my stomach, grabbed my pillow and literally screamed into it. At the top of my lungs. The pain was so intense that I stayed right where I was for minutes. I was almost sobbing.

It must have been another hour at least until my heart rate went down and I managed, finally, to doze off again. I usually sleep on my side but now I stayed on my stomach, with my arms above my head. Then it happened again. I somehow woke with yet another jolt, back on my side again somehow, with the dreaded alert shot, and I knew what was about to happen. This time I jumped out of bed and stumbled toward the living room. The warning shot hit me in the hallway, and I just got to the couch when the punishment shot hit. I felt flush over my whole body this time, and I did not know what I was going to do. I turned on the TV and there was some crime show on. Something, anything, to take my mind off things. I was watching the program but not watching it. I was in a daze, not paying any attention. Then finally I got an idea.

I remembered those black leather locking wrist restraints I had bought at the leather weekend but had not had a chance to break in yet. Partly out of desperation, and partly figuring I had no choice really, I went back to the bedroom and dug them out of the dresser. I put them on each wrist, and they fit just fine over the permanently installed training bands. Then I got two lengths of rope and set to work. My plan was to tie my wrists somehow, using the ropes, to the opposite ends of my headboard. But I could not figure out how to do this. I am too clumsy with knots, and I did not want to get stuck in something I would not be able to get out of on the morning.

Then I remembered those chains I had bought at the hardware store. And I had some carabiner-style clips, as well. It took me quite a while longer, but I managed to rig it up with the chains running around the bedposts and back to my wrists, using the carabiners to secure first my left and then my right. I had to be careful to not make the self-bondage too tight. This just needed to hold me enough so that my hands would stay away from my dick, and I also obviously needed to be able to free myself in the morning .

It seemed absolutely silly, to basically be chaining myself like this, spread-eagled on my back to my own bed. But it was the only way I was going to be able to sleep. But I also felt rather satisfied with my idea and finally at peace after this long and painful day.

I drifted off to sleep almost immediately.