By Mister-X / Spartan

That first Saturday for Tim out of the punishment sleep sack, all the boys were released at the same time to exercise and get cleaned up.  Each would dress in his rubber cat suit with the hood down, go out to the breakfast table, and be restrained to his chair by the rubber boy.  The last to sit down was Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson was dressed as usual in his suit.   When breakfast was finished, the boys would have their hoods brought up, the restraints put on, and would be marched into the dungeon as they had been on the evening of a normal week day.  But first they each were given a haircut after their hood was temporarily lowered and they were attached to a barber chair while the others remained at attention.  The rubber guy was the barber.  Everyone, including Mr. Johnson, got a military-style buzz cut one.  It was a first for Tim, who wore his hair short, but not that short.  After that they had a full day to spend in the dungeon in various devices, breaks only for meals.

But Sunday morning was different.  Really, really different.  Whereas the other days Mr. Johnson would be wearing a business suit, on Sunday he was wearing one of the cat suits like Tim’s, only red.  His hood was down, and Tim could see the massive plug gag on it, just as Tim’s had.  But Mr. Johnson’s cat suit was obviously a much larger size.  With the hood down, and out of the business suit, Tim could see how massive and athletic a body Mr. Johnson had.  Tim also noticed a bulge in the front between Mr. Johnson’s legs, a bulge not from a hard on, but from the appearance of a metal chastity device.  And he noticed that Mr. Johnson was also wearing tit clamps.  Tim wondered why.

When finished with breakfast, the boys were lined up, the zippers over their cocks were lowered and their chastities removed.  The boys were restrained with cuffs but not gags, and marched into the dungeon with their hoods down, so they had the use of their eyes.  In the dungeon they were kept standing at attention while Mr. Johnson left the dungeon.  When he returned, Tim got quite a shock.

Mr. Johnson came in on all fours with his arms and legs bent up and tied, trotting on his elbows and knees.  Another guy, a smaller one, was riding on his back.  Mr. Johnson’s cat suit hood was pulled up and zipped closed, he had a metal head cage over it, there was a chain tightly wrapped a few times around his neck over the reinforced rubber and pulled through the bottom of the head cage, and the guy riding him had it pulled back, holding it in one hand like a rein, forcing Mr. Johnson’s head up.  Tim could hear Mr. Johnson’s labored breathing through the nose holes of his hood.  The guy also had a paddle in the other hand which had dull spikes on the end, and he would periodically whack Mr. Johnson’s butt hard with the paddle to urge him on into the room, much as riders would dig spurs into a horse.  The zipper at Mr. Johnson’s cock was open, and his cock was sticking out hard.

Tim knew that all the boys were already in the dungeon, so this had to be a different guy, one he’d never seen before.  Tim also looked around at the other boys to see if they were as shocked as he was, but they all seemed to expect it.  The rider was dressed in a complete leather outfit, with a leather hood on as well with eye, nose and mouth holes.  On top of the leather hood was a cowboy hat.

A loud gravelly voice shot out “Where’s the new guy?”

Tim noticed Mr. Johnson’s hood had eye holes, saw Mr. Johnson look around for him, and come trotting over.

Tim’s mouth was wide open in shock.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  The guy on Mr. Johnson’s back addressed Tim.  “My name is Albert Bowen.  You’ve probably never heard of me, but you’re working at a company that I own and are staying at a house that I own, though I’ve set things up to make it look like Lars does.  They are both ones of a number that I own.  I can’t be everywhere, so I have Lars here stay at my home and run my company.  But he is in charge.   I tell him how I want my house and company run, and he takes care of doing that.  Everything he does is to my orders.

Lars keeps me informed about everything that happens.  He told me about your posture problems, and I told him how to resolve them.  I’m glad to see that they have been.  He also told me that you were into tight bondage, which pleases me.  I’ve got some ideas for some neat gear I’d like to get made for you to try out.  It’s extreme, which I’m sure you will enjoy.  I also told Lars to dress you for work as I require him to dress, wearing those hard plastic tightly fitted shirts with the old-fashioned doubled over posture collars that you can put a tie through.  I had a bunch of those made special in different sizes, making sure the top is sharp so you keep your head up.  You like wearing them, don’t you Lars?”  Whack!

“MMMPPHH!”

“Lars and I have known each other ever since we were in the Marines together.  At that time he liked to be the one bound, and I was more than happy to do the binding.  Oh, the fun times I had doing that.  Nowadays he considers himself to be a sadistic top, though not as sadistic as I am, and that’s fine with me.  But once a week, on Sundays when I’m in town, he gets to be my boy again.  I’m sure you’ve noticed the bulge his chastity makes.  I hold the key to it.  He looks forward to my visits so he can be released and serviced.  Don’t you Lars?”  Whack!

“MMMPPHH!”

“He’s never completely lost the desire to be bound.  You still like it, don’t you Lars?”  Whack!

“MMMPPHH!”

“I also put the biggest butt plug I’ve ever seen into Lars for our Sunday play.  He can’t wear it during the week because he can’t sit down with it in.  But you like it, don’t you Lars?”  Whack!

“MMMPPHH!”  A few drops of pre-cum dropped down with this.

“So on Sundays he gets to be one of the boys, like all of you are, and I get to be your top here in my dungeon for one day.  While seeing him like this may make you respect him less, don’t make that mistake.  He still is someone you must always obey.  I like to make surprise visits to my companies and homes to make sure that everything is as I require it to be, and there better not be any lax behavior, though I understand the need to have a little fun once in a while, as long as everyone’s work gets done.”  He looked at the other boys when he said this.

“Tim, Lars told me about putting you in the punishment sack, which I had made and have had to use off and on over the years on boys to keep them in line.  If you rebel again, you will find yourself in that sack again.  I’m sure you didn’t enjoy the experience.  No one ever does.  Hopefully it has taught you a lesson.

But enough talk.  Let’s start having some fun.  Oh.  Almost forgot.  Lars, for goodness sake, put a plug gag in your chauffeur while he’s cuffed sitting in your car at your office during the day.  You should know better.  Since the car is in an enclosed, locked garage, there won’t be any prying eyes to look in.  You could insert it before he leaves in the morning and remove it after he gets home at night.  It’ll give the other commuters something to talk about.  For not thinking of that, you get this.”  He started whacking Mr. Johnson on his butt while pulling back tightly on the ‘reins’.   Mr. Johnson started bucking like a wild horse, but Albert Bowen held on and kept whacking.  After twenty whacks he stopped.

After that, Tim’s hood was pulled up, which blocked his sight, the enormous gag was put back into his mouth, and he, along with the other boys, spent the day in various devices.  After the shocking start, Sunday went for Tim as Saturday had done.  He showed no reaction to any of the various devices.  But he did enjoy having his cock serviced.

Monday morning was back to the usual work week schedule.  When Tim was marched out of Mr. Johnson’s closet that morning and released from his restraints, Mr. Johnson told him that since his posture was now good, he was to concentrate on his work assignments, becoming a normal work person during the day until everyone else had left.  He was to tell his supervisor that he’d finished his special assignment and was ready for other work.  Nothing was said about Sunday’s surprise, though he noticed that Mr. Johnson had been standing, not sitting as he usually did.  The tall table was also gone.

When Tim got back to his desk, no one else had arrived yet, as usual.  When his supervisor came in, Tim conveyed Mr. Johnson’s wishes, and was given another assignment.  At lunch time, he realized that he was free to go out to get a bite to eat.  He was dressed in the tight clothes that Mr. Johnson had gotten for him, hating that sharp high collar that forced his head up.  He was hungry, and decided that since he was going to be always wearing these clothes, he may as well get used to being out in public in them.  Outside, the clothes caused a few others to take a second look at him.  But no one wanted to join him for lunch, so he ate alone, head held high, bending at the hips to eat.

At the end of the day, after everyone else had left, he returned to Mr. Johnson’s office to be again bound in the adjacent room until Mr. Johnson was ready to leave.  This became the regular routine for the rest of the week.  On Friday night, when Mr. Johnson wanted to have a chat with Tim, the responses from Tim were strictly positive, no negative feedback.  Tim was still having adjustment problems such as he had voiced to Mr. Johnson a week previously, but he knew better now than to voice them.

Another uneventful weekend passed in which Mr. Johnson and Albert Bowen tried Tim out in various devices in the dungeon without getting any response, either positive or negative, just as had happened in the evenings during the week.  Tim was still suppressing his normal self, though enjoying the relief that Sunday brings.  The only change from the previous Sunday was when Albert Bowen rode into the dungeon on his ‘steed’, whooping it up, carrying a coil of rope which he used on the boys.

That night, Tim had that dream again, having been tied hand and foot earlier.  Back at work the following week, Tim was still the loner.  He was getting his work done satisfactorily, but no one seemed to want to chat with him.  Finally, Tuesday evening, as the last guy was starting to leave, he said to Tim that he’d noticed that Tim always stayed late, and wondered why.  Tim said that he rode home with Mr. Johnson, who was still there working.  On hearing this, the guy sat down and started asking Tim about Mr. Johnson, saying that he came across as a hard-nosed guy.

Tim thought a minute, particularly wondering whether what he said would get back to Mr. Johnson, and finally responded that Mr. Johnson appeared to be an ex-Marine drill sergeant, and it was probably difficult for him to relate easily to men working under him.  The other guy thought about it a minute, and asked Tim where Mr. Johnson lived.  Tim said in a mansion down the peninsula.  The other guy then asked whether Tim also lived in a ritzy place near there, and Tim again had to think before answering.  Tim finally said that Mr. Johnson had invited him to stay at his home.  The other guy thought about this, said it would save on expenses, and asked whether Mr. Johnson might invite him to move in as well.  Tim really had to think about how to answer this one, and finally said that Mr. Johnson would have to know a lot more about the guy’s personal life and preferences before he would do that.  That seemed to satisfy the guy, and he left.  Tim wondered whether he handled that conversation properly.  He didn’t tell Mr. Johnson about the conversation.

The next day the other guy asked Tim if he would have lunch with him.  So the two of them went to a nearby café for a bite.  As expected, the guy pumped Tim some more about Mr. Johnson.  The previous night Tim had figured that wasn’t the end of the conversation, and had time to think about what questions he might get asked, and prepare his responses.

The guy first asked Tim what he meant about wanting to know the guy’s personal life and preferences.  Tim said that, since Mr. Johnson had apparently been a former Marine drill sergeant, he wanted guys to order around, that he issued a lot of marching orders.  The guy seemed somewhat unbelieving at what Tim said, and finally said that surely he didn’t bring people into his home just to order them around.  Tim said that he also assigned duties for the men in his home to perform, and if they didn’t do one of them right, he would punish them, enjoying doing that.  The guy thought about that, and asked Tim if he thought Mr. Johnson was a sadist.  Tim said that Mr. Johnson called himself a hard-core sadist.  The guy nodded his head, and responded that he had noticed Tim had been holding things back, choosing his words carefully, and he now could understand why and what their relationship was.  He asked if Tim’s tighter clothes, including the old-fashioned stiff high collar which was leaving red marks at the top of his neck, were also something Mr. Johnson required Tim to wear, and Tim said they were.  No more was said at lunch.  Again, Tim wondered if he had handled the conversation properly.  He figured Albert Bowen wouldn’t want himself revealed.

When Tim got back to work, he noticed the other guy chatting with another co-worker, who looked over at Tim and expressed some shock at what the guy was saying, putting his hand up to his neck.  Tim figured that he’d just started some office gossip about Mr. Johnson and himself.  He wondered what was going to happen as a result.  But he just kept to himself and got his work done as best he could, joining Mr. Johnson after everyone else had left.

The next day nearing lunch time another worker asked Tim to join him for lunch.  At lunch, this guy introduced himself as Roger, and said “it’s all over the office that Mr. Johnson has guys living in his home, including you, who he would periodically sadistically punish.  Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“Is the punishment easy to take, or is it tough”

“It can get pretty tough.”

“Why do you all stay, then?”

“I can’t speak for the others, but in my case, I get free housing, free breakfast and dinner during the week and free meals on weekends.  My clothes are provided and cleaned for me.  I’m in the initial phase, where Mr. Johnson is trying me out to find out how I react to various punishments, most of which are easy to take, so I don’t begrudge Mr. Johnson his fun.  The toughest one is for when I disobey or don’t get my work done, which is fair.  My pay is the same and is automatically deposited into my checking account, so everything I earn is pretty much free and clear, except for taxes.  Why wouldn’t I stay?”

Roger thought about this, then said “do you consider Mr. Johnson to be your master, then?”

“Yes.”

“Could you ask Mr. Johnson if I can join?”

That was something Tim had not expected, though on thinking about it later, he realized that he should have.  After taking some time to think about what to respond, he said “I will pass that on to Mr. Johnson, but first I’m going to have to figure out how to let him know that his home life is now known to at least one other office worker.  Stay late after closing time, and I’ll talk to him then.”

That evening, after everyone else had left, Tim knocked on Mr. Johnson’s door as usual.  After being told to enter, he did so and said, “Permission to speak”.  Mr. Johnson replied in kind, and Tim told him that other workers in his office had noticed the changes in Tim’s appearance, had noticed Tim arriving early and staying late, and were speculating about their relationship.  One of them asked if he was staying at Mr. Johnson’s house and whether Mr. Johnson was his master, and when Tim confirmed this, asked Tim whether he could join Mr. Johnson’s household to also have Mr. Johnson as his master.  Mr. Johnson thought a bit about this, and asked who it was.  Tim told him, and he also said that the guy is waiting outside.  Mr. Johnson asked if he’d said anything about the bondage or Albert Bowen, and Tim said he’d only mentioned the drilling and the tough punishment.  Mr. Johnson told Tim to ask Roger to come into his office while he looked at his personnel file.

When the two came in, Mr. Johnson noticed Roger’s erect posture, and read that he had been in the Army, receiving a couple of medals.  He started off by asking Roger if he was hetero, gay or bi.  That was a bit direct, and Roger was momentarily taken aback.  Seeing this reaction, Mr. Johnson said that it had no bearing on his work, but if he wanted to move into his home he needed to know.  Roger replied that he was probably bi, but that if he were to use one word to describe himself, it would be that he was masochistic, that he enjoyed pain.  That was just what Mr. Johnson wanted to hear.  He asked Roger if he had ever been put into bondage, and Roger said that he’d always wanted to be, but he had never had a partner to do it.  Mr. Johnson then asked if Roger would like to be kept in bondage all the time he wasn’t working, and Roger enthusiastically replied that he wished he could be.  Mr. Johnson said that in that case he thought Roger would fit in to his household perfectly, that he could grant his wish.  He asked him where he lived and whether he’d be able to move that evening, and Roger told him he could and where he lived.  Mr. Johnson told Roger to go home and get his things packed and ready, and he would be by soon to pick him up.  Roger was pleased, responded with a “Yes, Sir!” and left.

 

To be continued …