The whole story.
I had been with my partner for more than ten years at the time. We have never really defined our relationship but I think you could call it Master and slave. I work, as does he. We both have demanding and sometimes very stressful careers with too little vacation time. My pay is direct deposited so I never know what happens to it or how much I actually make.
My partner takes care of all the details of my life for me. It’s just the way it is. I also pretty much live by his rules, moods and desires; having given up the desire to express myself in the relationship except to respect and show love to my partner and the men who make up our family. I am happy this way and there are few rules except that I do as I am told when I am told. Complaining about anything earns me a stint with a padlock through my septum piercing which is then locked to a ring in the wall, out of his sight. I also wear a Latowski Chastity Belt most of the time which keeps me horny and also prevents me from acting on my whoring proclivities.
The two week stint in the cage began when we vacationed in Northern California with a friend one late August. He lives on a fairly remote hilltop surrounded by more than 600 acres of land. His house is 11,000 square feet with a closed atrium in the middle that surrounds a swimming pool. He also has outbuildings that house his horses and alpaca at night to keep them safe from coyotes. One of the outbuildings was built to contain his playroom/dungeon. He held a lot of weekend parties at one time but got tired of all the work and expense. As you can imagine, he has a lot of custom made furniture and toys to play with when he is in the mood.
My idea of a vacation is being involved in constant activity. I like to be active and visit wineries, national parks and San Francisco when we are in Northern California. I never have enough time to hang out with friends, go to Mr. S or hit a few bars; so a vacation there is a whirlwind of tiring activities. I also enjoy visiting my friend and spending quiet time with him. He’s a really great guy as well as being a creative and aggressive top and sometimes master.
For this trip, we flew into Oakland, rented a car and drove up north to our friend’s house. My partner was exhausted from working long hours on a project at work. I wanted to stop in San Francisco for lunch and a little shopping on the way north but my partner simply said “not this time, we’re going north to relax for a couple weeks. No shopping! No Bars and No Parties!” I asked if it would be alright if I drove back down to spend a few days on my own. He responded, “maybe, we’ll see if time allows.”
I quickly peeled off my clothes when we arrived. I am usually naked the whole time I am with our friend. Our condo is in a congested area and we have big windows so I never get the chance at be naked at home. I asked my partner if he wanted me to wear my CB in the pool. He nodded yes, and then added, “you can swim after you get us unpacked and settled in.” I was wired from being cramped in the plane and car. I unpacked quickly then I rushed out to swim. My partner and friend sat in the shade of the arbor sipping red wine from his vineyard. The pool water was warm from the August sun. The sun was intense and the air was heavy with the green scent drifting in from surrounding vineyards. I swam laps to burn off energy, then paddled around until my skin began to pucker. I then crawled out and toweled off. I lay by the poolside on my towel soaking in the sun while the two men talked. I eventually fell into a deep sleep that lasted several hours. When I woke up, I found that a wide leather collar had been locked around my neck. I immediately recognized the collar, having worn it many times before. It was the shock collar again. Each time I wear it I swear it will be the last time. In fact, I’m usually tricked into or forced to wear it while I am helpless to refuse. This collar has an effective range of a half mile and can be used to shock me if I talk or yell or it can be used to shock at the controller’s will. I hated that collar but discovering it locked around my neck reminded me of the days of being controlled by my friend and how hot the sex had been after he got his jollies torturing me with it. I felt my cock filling the silicon pocket of my Latowski. Neither “Master” would know how excited I felt at that moment because the belt obscured my excitement.
The light was fading around the pool. My Partner and Friend were sitting around a table of dishes from the meal they had just finished. They were sipping Calvados and smoking fat black cigars. I thought it was odd that they let me sleep through dinner and began to make a pissy comment about it. I received a heavy jolt on the side of my neck as the first syllables entered my throat. They had set the collar to go off when I tried to speak. My Friend told me to go to the kitchen to see if Gerald, his “house man,” still had something out for me to eat. I recovered from the jolt then walked off to the kitchen to find Gerald.
Restrained and alone.
I am a weirdo, I guess. I like to get into heavy predicament bondage and then be left alone to suffer without anyone to rescue me when I start to beg for release or protest my situation. I like to get into the mindset of a victim who is being stored until his captor has a use for him. It’s hard to feel that way unless you manage a long term scene with people who actually have a real sadistic streak and who influence and balance each other. My partner and our friend make that happen for me when they are together. Sometimes, the ideas for predicament bondage come from my imagination.
There was an illustration by Leo Ravenswood in an early magazine, I think it was Drummer, Dungeon Master or Bound and Gagged. I can never remember which. The illustration was of a guy who was tied to a stool in a closet wearing a leather head harness that was tied to the closet rod. His feet were tied high and close to the seat and he had a pair of Japanese Clovers clamped on his tits. I got my partner to recreate the situation in the upper hallway closet in our big house. I spent hours in storage waiting for him, suffering in darkness until he came to release me. One day, I got the idea to turn an old fruit cellar in the basement into a room used especially for that situation. I used sound isolation batting on the walls and ceiling then used some old painted 1 by 6 boards for the walls. I even reinstalled the old shelves so that it looked like an authentic fruit cellar. I worked on this project while my partner was out of the house so he never knew that I was doing it. One afternoon near the end of the work day, I left early. I moved the equipment from the upstairs closet to my fruit cellar. I left a note in the tray on the entryway table where he tosses his keys. It read, “I’m in the fruit cellar.” I got myself cuffed and restrained so that I could not free myself and waited for him to discover me. He, of course, was late from work so I spent almost four hours in my sound proof closet suffering by my own device. It was a blast to be in that position. I actually thought he might have had to go on an emergency trip out of town and hadn’t gotten around to telling me. What a head trip!
To the cage!
My partner unlocked the Latowski and told me to go to the shower to give it a thorough cleaning and to give myself a thorough cleaning out while I was at it. He told me to take my time to make sure I wouldn’t need to take a dump for a couple days. I obediently and blissfully did as I was told; surviving enema craps and flushing until there was nothing left inside me. I dried the Latowski and carried it with me to the pool where all three men were waiting for me. My partner took the Latowski and my friend held me in a bear hug while Gerald locked my hands behind me in black hinged handcuffs. The seven foot tall groundskeeper met us as we all made our way to the dungeon. He is a remarkably stately and royal looking very black skinned man who rarely smiles. I am so completely turned on just by looking at him that I have trouble talking to him. He smiled at me with his gleaming white smile and said, “I heard we’re celebratin’ your birthday tonight.” My partner shook his head in disapproval.
The black cinder gravel bit into the souls of my bare feet causing me to wince as I hopped across the drive toward the dungeon.
My partner held me as my friend buckled a shoulder to wrist harness and locked it behind my neck. He wrapped my wrists in the leather restraints then pulled the whole contraption tight so that my arms were forced high and tight against my back. He buckled a ball gag head harness over my head then locked it. The gag seemed like overkill because any vocalization that I attempted at that point was greeted with a shock. But overkill is better than not enough. My friend locked a cable that hung from a block and tackle to the ring in the shoulder harness. The motor whirred until I was standing on my tip toes. My friend strapped my ankles together while my partner snapped a pair of clover clamps on my tits. The groundskeeper slipped a blindfold over my eyes and adjusted it. He gave me a huge wet kiss on my cheek and stuck his tongue into my ear.
I hung in silence after the four men left. I struggled to keep my footing. Any attempt to lower myself resulted in greater shoulder pain and increased pressure on the tip clamps. I sunk into the pleasure of being left alone in agony. This was a situation that my partner and I played many times while we owned the house in the country. It was fun to feel the desperation caused by the position again. I couldn’t yell for help or protest my way out of it. Even the slightest moan earned me a shock from the collar. That was worse than the pain from the bondage position. I was having a good time, but the situation ended much too soon.
The guys came back and lowered me to my feet. One of them removed the strap from my ankles. They loosened the cable a bit more while testing to see how far they could bend me over. One of them forced me to bend over while another stuck a lube covered finger up my ass that smelled of ginger and oriental herb. My hole started to feel warm and greasy. It was the lube that I sent to my friend when I was on a business trip in China. I couldn’t tell you who entered me first but I could tell you who was second. It was the groundskeeper whose cock corresponds to his height and boot size. It felt like I was being fisted rather than fucked. His load dripped down the insides of my legs. My partner ended the assault, slapping my ass as he usually does when he’s about to blow his wad up my ass. A hand cranked away at my cock, milking me the whole time I was being fucked. My partner finished himself and me off. I came just as he came.
The ball gag came off and then the shoulder restraints. My partner unbuckled the blindfold and told me to go to the bathroom if I needed to take a piss. He locked the Latowski on me again while cum and lube was still dripping out of my ass and down my legs. He and my friend forced me into the cage and locked the door. The cage is a typical puppy cage made of heavy steel. The floor is bare, slightly rusted steel. My friend pushed a big light green billowing fleece quilt through the bars and everyone said goodnight. They left me alone in the dungeon without another word. The lights went out and from that moment on, the space was as black as pitch. I heard the lock make a clunking sound as it was turned. I was alone, not knowing for how long. I was voiceless and somewhat content to remain so. I sat quietly, feeling my predicament and relishing everything that I felt during the previous hours. The space cooled rapidly. I wrapped myself in the quilt and leaned into the corner of the cage and fell asleep.
I was awakened from a dream by a noise that caused me to jolt out of my sleep. The dungeon door opened and Gerald walked in and placed a covered plate on the table inside the door. The light from the open door barely made it into the room. I guessed that it must have been around noon. I had to take a piss badly. I pointed at my groin, trying to signal my need to Gerald. He said, “it’s okay, you can talk, I turned the collar off for now.” Gerald unlocked the cage door and then unlocked the Latowski and told me to go take care of myself. “Shower and clean yourself out while you’re at it. You smell like a scat whore!”
Gerald is a little guy; barely over five foot five tall. He always wears tan khaki tank shorts and an earthy colored polo shirt. He spins around like a top, being too hyperactive to stop. He is sinewy and somewhat hairy. He talks either frenetically or doesn’t talk at all, depending on his mood. He looks like a tough street fighter when he smiles because he is missing three front teeth. The fact was that he had lost them in a Kung Fu match when he was in the Navy and just hadn’t gotten around to having them fixed. Gerald leaned in the shower doorway watching me. He very nervously asked me about how I felt about being a slave. I thought for a moment before responding. “I don’t think of myself as a slave, although, maybe I am technically. I guess it’s a lot like what life is like for you. You do as you are asked or told. The big difference is that you get a paycheck for doing it and you get a say about when and who you fuck!”
“Do you always do exactly what you are told? Don’t you ever get pissed off and decide not too?”
“Sure, I get pissed off, but I made a decision a long time ago that if I am going to get what I want out of this relationship, I have to be as submissive as my partner expects me to be. I pretty much have to listen to his words and tone of voice. Sometimes we are one thing, sometimes we are another. It’s no different than between you and your boss. You can obey him to the letter sometimes and sometimes you can discuss differences in opinion about the way something should be done. If you can’t agree, you can quit. If I wanted to, I could stop everything but that would be the end of this relationship as I know it. You are paid well, you have a comfortable home and a great and generous boss. You need your job. I need my partner to keep me balanced and I need to make sure that I am taking care of him, too. Why are we discussing this anyway?” I asked.
“I was just wondering why you take shit from your master all the time and then come here to get kicked around by my boss.”
“Because it is who I am and I happen to like…” I decided not to say anymore. I washed out the Latowski with soap and water, dried it thoroughly and handed it to Gerald, not knowing what to expect after that. I rinsed myself with the hottest water that I could stand then turned the shower to an icy mist to cool off. After toweling off, Gerald handed me the Lataowski and told me my partner wanted it locked on again. He ordered me into the cage, locked the door and slipped a plate of food under the cage door. We talked for a while as I ate. He took the empty plate, turned off the lights and locked the door.
Gerald had taken the quilt from the cage, leaving me with nothing but steel bars, steel floor and the steel Latowski. All physical comforts were taken from me. I had no idea when I would be released or exactly why I was locked up and isolated. I liked the feeling, but at the same time felt like I was wasting valuable vacation time in cage – when I really wanted was to be out on the road in the sun with the roof down on our rented convertible.
The hours passed slowly. My partner came to see me. I was afraid to try to talk although I wanted to protest. He brought me a can of supplement drink and a bottle of water. He unlocked the cage, telling me to get out and stand up. He unlocked the Latowski and fondled my genitals. I grew hard immediately. He had noticed that the belt was chaffing my waist and wanted to check for other hot spots caused by the belt. He decided to leave it off. I motioned toward the collar, hoping that he would allow me to talk. He said it was okay. “Sir, this is fun but I’m really in the mood to go out and do things. Can we PLEASE forego the cage thing?”
“No! For two reasons, I need to just hang out and rest for a couple weeks. If I let you out, you’re going to talk me into going out. And, if I let you go on your own, I’m going to wonder about you all the time. The second reason is, “Do you remember a while back after we got your cage? You said you wished you could get locked in it long term so being locked in it was really meaningful? This is your chance to know what it would be like.”
I protested, “But we’re on vacation!”
“Exactly! Now go take a piss and get back in the cage. And, to keep you from playing with yourself…” He locked my wrists in handcuffs that were dangling from a bar at the top of the cage. I began to protest, He pushed the button on the collar control and I received a warning jolt to the side of my neck. “There will be no more talk of getting out and if any of us come in here to visit, you will do exactly as you’re told. Do you understand?” I nodded my head to say yes.
My partner sat watching me grimace with anger. He looked sympathetic for a moment then stood up. He filled my water bottle which he placed on the floor next to the cage and smiled sadistically, knowing that I could not reach with my hands cuffed at the top of the cage. He reached through the top of the bars to buckle a blindfold over my eyes and commanded me to leave it in place. He said he didn’t want to see my sad puppy eyes. I felt so angry that I wanted to scream or cry.
I really can’t say that I knew what time it was or what day it was at any given moment. I could not see a thing. The guys came in and out at unpredictable times and attended to my needs. I might have been locked in a cage but they were my slaves, at least during the duration of my caging. There was a moment when I struggled and physically lashed out at the groundskeeper. He pinned me on my back with his body and forced his cock into my mouth. He slapped me hard across the face a few times. My friend came into the dungeon moments later. He yelled, “What are you doing?” I thought he was yelling at the groundskeeper. But it was me the he was yelling at. He picked me up by the collar and restrained me over the Australian caning bench and tore into me with a cane. “Your Master told you to obey everyone who comes to visit you! DIDN’T HE!” I was so angry at the point that my rage turned into emotional nothingness.
After the caning, I was ordered to my knees and to open my mouth wide. The groundskeeper slowly filled my mouth and throat with his sticky, sweaty smelling dripping cock. He grabbed hold of my head and fucked my throat with long slow movements. His wad filled my mouth with his cum then he held his hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow.
I used the toilet and went back to the cage. The groundskeeper locked the door and handed the water bottle to me and told me to drink. He left my hands free. The cuffs dangled over a top bar of the cage. Another day had passed. I felt endlessness that had nothing to do with eroticism. Another day was well underway when the dungeon door opened. Unfamiliar voices mingled with those of the four men who kept me caged. My friend had a group of his Leather Family in for the weekend. Loud voices in the room caused my collar to shock me until my partner finally turned it off. I’m not sure if he intended the constant punishment for that short while or finally realized that I was balled up in agony trying to protect the sensors from noise to keep from being repeatedly shocked. The party lasted through the night then picked up the next afternoon. I had been poked and prodded but never allowed to leave the cage. It had been my fifth day in the cage without relief by the time the party was over and the dull darkness returned. I had been pissed on and used for a cum target. I was sitting in a stinking mess, mostly made by other men. My inability to keep from messing myself didn’t matter. It just mingled with everything else in and around the cage.
The day after the party people left and I was released from the cage and given the task of cleaning the dungeon. It was the first time in days that I had stood on two feet. I disinfected all the furniture surfaces and toys and to the best of my memory, put them back in their places. I mopped and disinfected the floors and dragged several large black bags full of trash to the groundskeeper’s truck and then reluctantly walked back to the dungeon, stopping to enjoy the afternoon sun for a while before my partner and friend came down from the house to take care of me. I washed myself, brushed my hairy teeth and cleaned my insides out then rinsed the shower down again. The “Masters” took me up to the house and allowed me to swim and bathe in the sun until Gerald announced dinner. I thought that perhaps the caging was over. I prayed that it was and I begged for release, even while being walked back to the dungeon. I was ordered into the cage. Gerald pushed the cleaned green quilt through the bars and the men left me in the dark again. It was the first time in over ten days that I had any creature comforts. I wrapped myself in the comforter and pushed the remaining bulk into the corners and fell asleep for what seemed days.
Three days to go and I finally get some action.
My partner removed the dog collar and stuffed a cloth covered foam ball into my mouth before locking a leather muzzle over my head. He buckled a blindfold over my eyes and then told me to stand until he came back. I had no idea where he was. I could only hear when he popped the foam ear plug out of my right ear. My senses had all been blocked. I steadied myself by leaning against the outside of the cage. Two pairs of hands grabbed me under the arms and walked me through the room. They wrapped my wrists in leather suspension restraints and cuffed my ankles in leather. They attached the leg cuffs to the floor and began winching me by the cuffs toward the ceiling until I no longer touched the floor. I was held rigid between the ceiling and floor, unable to struggle. One of them snapped a pair of clamps on my tits, tightening them a couple clicks. The other put clamps on my scrotum. I was left hanging for a few moments. With a pain that traveled through my entire body like an intense orgasm, the lash of a bullwhip split through the air and struck my back. A moment passed, the orgasmic pain subsided and I wanted another lash. Both my partner and friend are experts with single tail whips. My friend performed publicly at rodeos until he found that it was more fun to use them on people than inanimate objects. I became so sexually aroused by the sound and feel of a bull whip crack that I orgasmed and unloaded on the ground in front of me. Each lash made me hunger for the next. I wanted to scream in ecstasy but nothing passed through the gag. My back was hot and it stung like I had been descended upon by hundreds of bees. My friend touched my back gently with his hands then carefully cleansed the wounds. The whipping ended much too soon, as usual.
My partner played with the nipple clamps by opening and closing them repeatedly. Had I been able to scream I would have. This is a favorite game that I came up with. I love tit torture, especially when I have a chastity device on that causes pain when the tit torture stimulates me to erection. This time I didn’t have anything keeping me from getting hard because I wasn’t wearing the belt. I came a second time, first from the bull whipping and then from the tit torture. My partner removed all the clamps, while my friend lowered me to the ground and removed the restraints.
I was forced in the cage again, in spite of my protests. They buckled the shock collar on again and left me alone in the dark.
I woke up with a migraine headache on the thirteenth day. I buried my head in the blanket when the groundskeeper came to visit me. He pulled the quilt of my head and I immediately covered my right eye and forehead. He quietly turned and said, “he has a bad migraine, it’s written all over his face.” My partner came out to care for me. He gave me pain medicine and a glass filled with iced water. He took me out of the cage and brought me to the jail cell were I could sleep on a bunk with a pillow and the quilt. I needed to have access to a toilet in case I got sick. He locked the cell door and left me alone. It’s all anyone can do if I have a migraine, which happens two or three times a year.
I woke up hours later feeling starved. I lay on the bunk uncovered, jacking myself off – which takes the final vestages of a migraine away. I heard a laugh coming over the sound system. “Feeling better already?” My migraines are devastating but short lived and a good orgasm helps to get rid of them. My doctor told me that an orgasm dilates the blood vessels.
“Yes Sir and I am starving!”
The 14th day was a test of stamina. I was forced to sit with my ankles crossed and chained. I had a large metal plug stuffed up my asshole and secured with a wrapping of chains and a padlock. My hands were cuffed in hinged cuffs and a short length of chain connected a wide steel collar to my ankles. I was gagged with a ball gag that was held tightly in place by a leather head harness. The “Masters” locked the cage door and left me again. There was absolutely no way to find comfort. Struggling only caused more pain. I had gotten stiff over the previous thirteen days of incarceration so my years of yoga barely serviced me during my final hours.
My partner came back after several hours and snapped a pair of clover tit clamps on to increase my pain. Several more hours passed. The pain from the clamps brought me a point of near hysteria, but I would not allow myself to show it. I struggled alone in the cage for a couple more hours before my four captors came into the dungeon with a cake aflame in birthday candles. They sang Happy Birthday to me. They opened the cage door and pulled me out. They lifted me up onto the table and freed me enough so that I could blow the candles out. The four had one last torment for me to endure. They removed all the chains, the collar and butt plug. They bent me over. My hands were still cuffed behind my back. Each of them took a turn milking me and fucking me in my throat and in my hole. This forced fuck was all about pleasuring me.
I spent two weeks locked in a small cage bored to near hysteria. I really didn’t know how I would make it most of the time, but I managed. Perhaps I prevailed because I didn’t give myself a choice. I will do anything that my Partner and Friend tell me to do. It’s that way between us.
Metal would like to thank Quandt for this story.
Metal would also like to thank Marknorth for his help preparing the text for posting.