I feel the weight of the massive plug in my ass, hear the ringing in my ears and the beating of my pulse before I actually regain consciousness- a slight wooziness that is familiar to me- Donovan must have kept me knocked out with chloroform while he transported me to the ticket booth, my final destination for tonight.
‘Ticket Booth’ is generous. It’s a steel cage at the entrance to the dungeon, and there’s only enough room in it for me, a clipboard with a list of names- codenames from the looks of it- and a button I can push to unlock the entry. There’s a special, private event tonight- uninvited kinksters who didn’t get the memo will be turned away.
I raise my hand to pick up the list and take a look at it, and only now realize that I’m shackled to the bars of the cage, too- with heavy metal restraints. I can move enough to press the button, and that’s it. I look up into the crowded bar and see that I have more than a few eyes on me. At least I know I look good. I move my body- to the extent I can- to the music, and wait for the first guest.
One of the men who has been eyeing me since I regained my consciousness approaches first. He’s tall and thin, long-limbed but still graceful. He’s got high, broad cheekbones, a strong nose, full lips. He’s in leather, but instead of a classic old-guard outfit he looks like a hero out of a video game- equal parts high fashion, tactical, and revealing, all at once. I hope I don’t look too thirsty as I gaze upward at his face. “Name?”
“Jin Park. Don’t forget it,” He looks downward, appraising me- in my outfit, in my bondage, in the cage- “Boy.” I swell in my cock cage when he calls me that.
“Yes Sir. Please enter.”
The door clicks and he enters, turning to give me a final look as he pulls it shut behind him. Two more guys are waiting.
“Omni,” says one of them, and the other finishes his sentence, “And Zephyr.”
I have to do a double take. Omni and Zephyr appear to be identical twins, but… Omni has dark chocolate skin. Zephyr shares his broad nose, the short dreadlocks, the piercing eyes- everything an exact double except for the fact that he looks like a photo negative of his brother.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to stare at an albino,” Zephyr says to me. I rush to apologize but he winks and smiles. “Fortunately I can see it’s out of lust. Maybe later you can service me.”
I smile stupidly. Zephyr is wearing a black leather harness and armored Maskulo leggings in black and red, with a pair of sneakers similar to mine. Omni’s outfit contrasts against him, too- his white harness is bright against his skin- and he’s wearing rubber bleachers and combat boots that come halfway to his knee. He makes eye contact with me and sneers. “Keep dreaming, faggot.” Zephyr raises his eyebrows in amusement, then smiles at me.
As they enter the dungeon I breathe a sigh of relief. So, skin color is not the only way the twins are opposite one another. But I find myself attracted to both of them, equally.
Surprisingly, given that I’m geared up, plugged and caged, and being exhibited in public- I feel left out of the fun. If the rest of the men on this list are half as sexy as the three that have already entered, this is going to be a hot party. Why wasn’t I invited?
The next man is, of course, much more than half as attractive, and he’s got three rubber slaves on leashes behind him. Each is geared identically, in skintight, full coverage rubber suits. All are muzzled over their hoods, and their arms are locked in binders behind their back. Tiny locks are in place over every zipper and buckle, at least a dozen per slave. Based on the way they groan and squirm, it looks like they’re also suffering regular electric shocks to their balls and ass.
“The name’s Vega. You’re new.”
“Just helping out for the night. Are these,” I gesture to the slaves, “On the list as well? Or do you need valet parking?”
He laughs, and gazes at me mischievously. “Phi, Chi, and Psi.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you’ve got the rest of the greek alphabet waiting at home.”
“Only position left to fill is omega.” His eye contact is so intense it feels like my eyes are in bondage. “Interested?”
“I’m… I’m owned, Sir. But thank you for the offer.”
He comes closer to the cage, so that I can feel his breath against my face.
“That’s a shame for me. You look like just my type.”
His presence is like a drug. I quickly press the button to allow him and his slaves inside.
Donovan stands at the entrance to my cage. “Looking good in there, Dax. Careful you don’t do too good a job, I might keep you. I know you love the attention.”
I grin back at him. “Maybe if Master Shephard lets me, I could dance here sometime?”
“Or more,” he answers.
He reaches into the cage, holding something in his hands. He ties a leather cord into a knot around my neck, then unscrews the lid off of a tiny bottle hanging from it. The scent of poppers hits me. It’s not as intense as taking it straight from the bottle, but it’s constant, and I know what affect it’s going to have on me as I stand here in this cage. He pulls me forward into a deep kiss, his tongue in my mouth, his lungs sucking the air out of mine. When he releases me, my empty lungs take their first big breathful of poppers, and I feel whatever little resistance to submission that I have left slide out of me.
“Are you ready for that? Because we think this is the right kind of environment for you to really thrive in.”
“Of course, Sir. If you and Master Shephard agree that I should, then I want to.” But when I look up, Donovan’s gone. It looks like the slow trickle of men at the beginning of the party is over- there’s a line now, each man unique, each in a different outfit. I cross each code name off the list, let each man in, until finally there’s only one name remaining, and he stands in front of me. By this time the poppers have turned me into a complete drone- incapable of thought, just a bundle of pleasure centers and the urge to obey.
“Prince,” he says, and he certainly looks the part. He’s tall, and tan, and fit. His posture is regal, his voice refined- a slight accent, maybe Dutch? He’s dressed simply, in a leather equestrian look. Atop his blond hair is a black leather crown.
“Your Highness,” I say, as I buzz him in. But instead of entering the dungeon he looks at me, a smile blossoming on his face. The door locks again. Unsure what to do, I buzz him in again.
“No need for that, slave. I’ve found what I want for the evening,” he says.
“I appreciate that, Sir. But I’m owned, and locked in here anyway.”
“And I appreciate your commitment to your Master, but I’m not bound by the same rules as you or he.” His body still facing mine, he turns towards the bar and summons a barkeeper. “Boy,” he says to the young man who was working the bar, “Bring me Donovan. I’ve made my selection.”
He reaches into the cage and lifts the bottle of poppers to my nose, instructing me to take deep breaths. I comply, becoming more and more helpless until Donovan appears.
“Hello, Prince. I see you’ve found something you like?” Donovan says. I wait for him to tell the man I’m not available to serve, but instead he grabs my nipple and squeezes it firmly. “I have custody of this slave tonight, but it would be my honor for you to use him as you please. I’ll prepare a cell.”
I’m too poppered up to voice a complaint- and before long I hear something spraying out of a can, then a damp towel pressed against my face. It’s not enough to knock me out, but I go completely limp, and Prince’s exultant face is the last thing I see before a leather isolation hood is pulled over my head, and I feel straps being tightened and re-tightened, a giant plug gag forced into my mouth, and lock after lock clicking shut. A leash is attached to the collar, and Prince, on the other end, pulls me into the dungeon with him.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank TheBadOne for writing The Story of Dax!