The Dare - part 3
The Lockmaster’s Solution
The next night Ryder drove Jax back to the warehouse, the slave hooded and chained in the backseat the entire way. When they arrived, the Lockmaster greeted them with that same calm, predatory smile.
They sat down in the dimly lit office while Jax knelt silently on the concrete floor between Ryder’s boots.
“I can’t make him disappear completely,” Ryder explained. “His parents, my parents—they’re all friends. People would notice. School’s starting. I need him to function in public… but still be mine. Like an off-and-on switch. He goes back to looking like normal Jax when we need him to, but the second we’re alone he drops back into full slave mode.”
The Lockmaster laughed, deep and amused. “A toggle. I like it. Let’s do this.”
They worked on Jax for the next twelve hours straight.
The mind fucking was even more intense than the first time. Jax was strapped into a heavy rubber isolation chair, hooded, earphones blasting hypnotic loops while the Lockmaster and Ryder took turns reinforcing new programming:
• The Switch: In public or around family/friends, Jax would act mostly normal—talk, laugh, go to class, see his parents. But the second Ryder said the trigger phrase (“Down, boy”), Jax would drop into full slave mode: silent, obedient, horny, and ready to serve. Another phrase (“Back up”) would bring him back to semi-normal functioning, though the programming ensured he’d never truly be free again.
• Identity Rewrite: The once-proud straight man was conditioned to accept his new reality. Deep in trance, Jax was forced to repeat for hours: “I am Ryder’s boyfriend in public. I am Ryder’s slave in private. My holes belong to him. I crave his cock and his piss.” Memories of his old straight life were twisted into shameful, arousing fantasies that only made him harder in his cage.
Permanent Body Modifications
To seal the ownership:
• A sleek, permanent titanium collar was locked around his neck. It looked like a stylish, thick necklace in public—something a gay guy might wear—but it was locked with a hidden mechanism only Ryder could open. A small ring at the front allowed a leash to be clipped discreetly.
• His nipples and cock were pierced with heavy rings. The cock ring integrated with a new, more secure steel chastity cage that could only be removed by Ryder’s key.
• A small, discreet tattoo was inked just above his cage: “Property of Ryder” in elegant script. Another, a small lock symbol, was placed on the back of his neck.
• His ass was permanently plugged with a training device that could vibrate on Ryder’s phone command.
By the end, Jax was a drooling, broken mess—mind thoroughly rewired, body marked forever.
When they were done, the Lockmaster stepped back. “He’s yours. The cover story is simple: you two figured out you’re a gay couple over the summer. It explains the closeness, the shared place, everything. You’ll both sell it to family and friends. And the second you’re behind closed doors… he’s your slave again.”
Ryder looked down at Jax—smooth head bowed, new collar gleaming, body trembling with conditioned need. He felt a surge of dark satisfaction. He’d never been into guys before this summer, but owning this one—his former best friend—had unlocked something primal in him. He loved fucking that tight, trained hole. He loved pissing down his throat while Jax looked up at him with total devotion. He loved the power.
“I’m good with it,” Ryder said, pulling Jax’s head against his crotch. “We’re boyfriends now. And you’re still my slave.”
Jax’s voice was soft, broken, and happy in his new role: “Yes, Master… I’m yours.”
The New Normal
They drove home as an official “couple.” When they walked into the apartment, Ryder locked the door and spoke the words:
“Down, boy.”
Jax dropped to his knees instantly, the switch flipping perfectly. The proud man from before the summer was gone. In his place was a perfectly trained slave who would live a double life—boyfriend by day, owned property by night—for as long as Ryder wanted.
The summer had ended.
The ownership had only just begun.
The Double Life
The new arrangement worked perfectly. To the outside world, Ryder and Jax were just another college couple who had finally admitted their feelings over the summer. Their parents were surprised but supportive—“We always thought you two were unusually close,” Jax’s mom had said with a warm laugh. Friends bought it too. The small lock tattoo was explained as Jax’s commitment to Ryder. They posted a few carefully staged couple photos and life went on.
But behind closed doors, the switch was everything.
Morning Routine
Ryder woke up to Jax’s warm mouth already working him under the covers. Ryder would murmur sleepily, and Jax stayed deep in slave mode—smooth head bobbing, throat relaxed, taking every inch like the well-trained slave he was. After Ryder came down his throat and followed it with a long, lazy piss, Jax crawled to the kitchen to make breakfast.
While they ate (Ryder at the table, Jax kneeling on the floor beside him), Ryder liked to reminisce.
“You remember when you used to be straight? Always bragging about chasing girls, talking shit about how no one could break you?” Ryder chuckled, forking eggs into his mouth. “Look at you now. Bald, collared, swallowing my piss every morning like it’s your favorite protein shake.”
Jax whimpered, cheeks burning with shame and arousal. The cage strained painfully around his pierced cock. He kept his eyes down. “Yes, Master… I remember.”
“Good boy. Now thank me for reminding you who you really are.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Public Days
On campus, they played the part. They walked together, Ryder’s arm slung casually around Jax’s shoulders. The titanium collar looked enough like edgy jewelry that no one questioned it. Jax attended classes, laughed with friends, and even joined study groups. But Ryder kept the remote to the vibrating plug in his pocket. He’d buzz it during lectures just to watch Jax squirm and bite his lip.
One afternoon they ran into some old gym buddies. While Jax made small talk, Ryder leaned in and whispered, “Down, boy,” under his breath. Jax’s posture changed instantly—subtler in public, but Ryder could see it: the slight glaze in his eyes, the way his voice got softer.
Later in the car, Ryder laughed. “You used to be such a cocky asshole. Always trying to out-lift me, out-drink me. Now you’re my quiet little cock warmer. Does that make you hard, slave?”
Jax whimpered, nodding. “Yes, Master.”
Nights of Ownership
Evenings were when Ryder really indulged. The second the apartment door closed, it was “Down, boy” and Jax dropped. Some nights Ryder chained him to the wall frame and fucked him slow and deep for hours, reminding him between thrusts:
“You used to have your own bed. Your own clothes. Your own life. Now you sleep on the floor like a dog and wear what I allow. You’re never going back, are you?”
Jax would moan and whimper around the gag or Ryder’s cock, tears of overwhelming submission in his eyes, but his body always responded—pushing back, begging for more.
Weekends were intense. Ryder would keep Jax in full rubber bondage for hours, hooded and plugged, while he played games or watched TV with his feet resting on his slave’s back. He’d take the hood off only to piss in Jax’s mouth or make him recite his old proud memories before forcing him to thank Ryder for destroying them.
Deep into the Semester
Ryder never got tired of it. The contrast thrilled him—watching Jax act mostly normal in public, knowing that with two words he could turn his former best friend into a whimpering, obedient slave. He loved the power. He loved the sex. He loved owning someone who used to be his equal.
One quiet evening, after a long day of classes, Ryder had Jax kneeling naked between his spread legs. He stroked the smooth shaved head almost tenderly.
“You know you’re never getting rid of that collar, right? Even when we graduate. Even when we’re old. You’re mine forever now.”
Jax whimpered softly, pressing his forehead against Ryder’s thigh in total surrender.
“Yes, Master… I’m yours.”
Ryder smiled, satisfied. The coin toss had been the best decision of his life. And Jax’s old life was never coming back.
