This is an NSFW blog. Absolutely no minors allowed. Minors will be blocked.
I am a gay 40+ transman
Potential content warnings: dub- and non-con, mind control, breath play, D/s relationships, bondage, pain, blood, medical fetishes, latex, slave play, loss of limbs, weird transformations, etc (I’ll update this list as need be).
Due to Tumblr’s tag bullshit, posts may not contain all warnings in tags.
TERFs, homophobes, bigots, MAPS, etc not welcome.
I use the “osha violation” and “NSFTumblr” tags to help keep my stuff from getting auto flagged.
I've been hesitant to delve too deeply into my actual, personal interests beyond making art about it. It's that paper thin layer of plausible deniability that helps me skirt around some weird mental hangups I have.
I think finally making art of Crawford, who's built like me, finally unlocked (ha!) a bit of that for me. Maybe it's that people didn't react with disgust that convinced that dysmorphia gremlin to quiet down a bit. However, I'm still miles away from being brave enough to even try for anything in person.
So I gotta do it all myself. Made possible with a 3D printer and and a lock or two. Being a cheap lock from Amazon, the emergency release is very unreliable. So this is a decent balance. The plastic is weak enough that with the right tools you can still break it open but it takes some real effort. Disposable enough to just make another one, but it takes some time.
I'll leave the specifics of the how and what that's being locked up to your imagination.
No story for this one, I just wanted to see if I could torment a different character!
This is Crawford. He's a fair bit more aggressive and violent than Dane. He's also bigger and stronger and less willing to to submit to anyone ever. He's not just mouthy, but downright nasty, so before getting to this level his vocal cords were probably altered or removed to stop him from screaming obscenities at every possible moment. But not even that would keep him completely quiet. By sheer force of will and stubborn fury, he'd still be making sounds akin to a sort of hoarse barking noise. His limbs were removed not for escape attempts, though that was something he was prone to do, but for lashing out at his captor. Reduced to stumps and deprived of breath, and he's not tamed.
He'll still fight as hard as he can, even as his breath fades. And this would be after trying to bite a hole through the bag.
Summary: Dane makes an impulse purchase and gets into something he's in no way prepared for. And he has no one to blame but himself.
Originally, this was going to be just a few paragraphs at the beginning of chapter 2 for Fulfill Your Every Fantasy but it veered off into its own thing.
Word Count: 5,307
Contents/Warnings: Orgasm denial, chastity cage, intense and likely impossible bladder control (no watersports), dangerous self bondage, sensory deprivation
Note: I was going to go leave this as a one-off story. But like with all things, the ideas breed and create more. Fitting that this started as an offshoot of another story, there's two paths I could take at this point and I genuinely cannot decide which would be more fun. So which would you prefer more: it's all extreme fantasy fulfillment but ultimately mundane, or there's something more fantastical happening and the voice coming from an external source?
On a whim, Dane slipped into the shady looking sex shop he’d passed every day to and from work. He’d always assumed it was one of those places that just sold “Girls Gone Wild” type movies with a side section of fuzzy handcuffs and edible underwear. But he was shocked to find it to be far better stocked with stuff even more hardcore than his own interests. Leather and metal bondage, including something that looked like an iron maiden fitted with a dozen locks.
What surprised him most of all was the wide range of chastity devices. The standard things that barely contained anything were there. Plastic affairs meant for short term wear. Several boasted longer term and permanent wear, which he didn’t trust for an instant. Then there were the ones he’d never seen before. Brutal, concave metal contraptions, including one that looked like an inch and a half of solid metal that pushed into the body. His cock throbbed as he picked one up, feeling the sheer weight of it. He’d worn cages before, but never for more than a few hours. He didn’t have the willpower to keep one on himself, but he did enjoy them painfully tight.
Closer to the middle intensity cages, he found one that presented itself as “Submit to Your Master”. It was a small cage, a dome shape just big enough for the head while the rest was crushed down. There was no visible lock or key, but it advertised what Dane assumed to be a timed mechanism, talking about a “challenge” and other such vague language.
Curious, he took it to the counter and the clerk raised an eyebrow at him.
“Feeling adventurous, I see. Are you ready for such a challenge?”
He shrugged. “What makes you think I’ll be wearing it?”
The clerk just rolled their eyes and handed him his change.
He assumed he’d toss it into the drawer beside his bed and forget about it until he found it again. But as he walked home, it itched at his mind. Fantasies of locking himself in it for a week or more flitted in and out as he tried to keep arousal at bay, but his snug jeans were already getting tighter.
Once home, he didn’t even bother getting anything to eat. He had the next two days off work and all the time he wanted ahead of him. He moved into the bedroom and started stripping away the packaging. A folded slip of paper fell out that he assumed to be the timer instructions. But as he inspected the cage itself, he couldn’t find anything that would even suggest a timer or controls. Where a lock or loop to add a padlock would be was just smooth metal. A chastity cage that didn’t make sense.
Without thinking, he slid the wider ring portion behind his balls. It was quite snug there, but it somehow felt right. He should have stopped to look at the instructions, but he wasn’t exactly thinking with the right head in that moment. The cage fit him perfectly, wrapping around the head of his nearly hard cock. As he crushed the shaft down with a faint whimper, he felt the two pieces pulling together as if by a very strong magnet. That should have been reason enough to stop, but something in him whispered “Do it!” and the next thing he knew the cage clicked shut. He pulled at it, trying to get it to open again, but the two pieces were as solid as if welded onto him.
In trying to get a decent grip on the cage, his fingers rubbed firmly at his tender and needy head. Instead of reaching for the paper that had fallen out, his fingers stayed there, rubbing eagerly at his trapped cock. His hips rolled, desperate for more than his hand could provide. His crushed shaft demanded the same attention, unreachable behind the cage.
He got lost in that sensation, the screaming need of trying to scratch an itch he could never reach. He rolled over on the bed, rolling his hips hard against the mattress. He stuffed pillows under him and humped them as hard as he could as he squeezed and massaged his balls. It left him a desperate, drooling mess, never able to even get near an orgasm. At some point, desperate tears leaked from his eyes as he whimpered into his sheets. “Please…please let me cum…please…” to no one at all. In the end, exhaustion claimed him as he fell into a fitful, restless sleep.
Come morning, or rather early afternoon when he finally woke, he managed to resist the urge to keep stroking himself. He was going to need something far more than just his hands. After downing a quick breakfast, he went back to the store where he’d bought the cage to get a few more toys. There was a different clerk working the register, this one seemed barely awake and just going through the motions. Dane was glad for a lack of conversation, he feared he might beg the person to bend him over the counter right then and there if he had to speak.
Once home, he went to work right away, pulling out the smallest toy first. A slim anal vibrator. It slipped in with barely any lube, and when he flicked it on, his entire body bucked. He’d hit just the right spot. Collapsing on the bed with his ass in the air, he rode those blissful humming waves until he was a drooling mess. Any moment, he’d cum and be able to think straight again. But before he knew it, he had a pillow shoved between his legs, grinding against it as he whimpered into the sheets. It was like he could see the peak but something held him back from reaching it.
Once managed to get a grip on his wits, he swapped the toy out for the next one. A thicker plug that also vibrated but with a deeper hum. The sort of thing he felt deeper than even the toy itself reached, down to his toes. Over an hour passed, lost in his desperation, only aware of the throbbing need between his legs. It was only the groan of hunger and thirst in his belly that pulled him up from the darkness.
Slipping the toy out, he went into the kitchen to find something to eat. He just needed a breather. Maybe he was too sensitive now to get off. He’d hit that point more than once, but usually he’d need to be gagged and blindfolded to get to that point. Maybe that’s what he needed…something more restrictive.
He didn’t have the wherewithal to put together anything substantial, so he just chugged two meal replacement shakes from the fridge while he mulled things over. By the time they’d settled, the screaming need between his legs had dulled to a persistent ache. He had two more toys to try. He went back to the bedroom and looked at them. A more standard dildo, a bit thicker than any others he owned. And the most intimidating one, a black length of pure silicone that while slim at the tip it was eye-wateringly thick just before its narrow base. More intimidating was the length. The entire insertable portion was longer than his arm from finger tips to elbow. When he peeled it out of its plastic prison and felt the raw weight of it in his hands, his trapped cock throbbed so hard his knees almost buckled. Okay, okay. Maybe he just needed to be split in half to finish this.
He set things up in the corner of his room where he’d bolted a hook high on the wall just for this purpose. He placed the dildo on the floor beneath the hook, and pulled open a drawer in the nightstand beside it. A thick, mouth-filling gag. A stifling leather hood with padding over the eyes. A length of chain. A pair of locking handcuffs. A larger timer lock. The cuffs went on first, his heart tripping a beat with each click of the locks. He fixed the chain on the hook, testing to make sure it wouldn’t come loose. With trembling hands now, he liberally lubed up the dildo, his breath quickening and hole twitching as he felt the girth of it. A throbbing in his cock halted him until it passed. After wiping his hands off, he shoved the gag in his mouth and locked it around his head. The hood and lock were set beside the dildo so he could get into position.
On his knees, the slick silicone pressed to his backside, he pressed the hour button on the lock. With each beep, his breath caught but he kept going. He stopped himself from going past 4, even as something inside him begged for 6. No, he shouldn’t even need more than 20 minutes…but 4 hours would be his limit. With unsteady hands, he hooked the lock into one of the cuffs and set to putting the hood on. It was an elaborate process, making sure the nose holes stayed aligned and his hair was fully tucked inside as he tightened the laces. The stifling leather pushing the gag deeper into his mouth was almost enough to push him over the edge right there. Once he fastened the laces, he leaned back, basking in the sensation alone. His hands drifted to his lap, one squeezing his balls, the other stroking his crushed cock. Whimpering moans escaped around the gag, but it wasn’t enough.
Blindly, he reached up and found the chain above his head. It took a few tries to get the lock through the right link to keep his arms up high enough. It put strain on his shoulders to press his ass to his heels, just like he wanted. He caught the ring of the other cuff and after steeling himself, clicked the lock shut. It gave 3 slow beeps before buzzing to signal the timer had started.
He flailed for a moment, testing the chain. He wasn’t going anywhere.
It took a few tries to get himself onto the massive plug without aid of his hands. He had to finally stumble to his feet and squat down. Thankfully, it was rigid and slick enough that once he found the right angle it started to slide in with ease.
It felt good, as he slowly moved back to his knees, sliding down the shaft as it slowly stretched him out. But about halfway down, he started to stretch more than he’d ever been stretched before. Maybe he should stop. If he could twist his fingers around just right he could hold down the key combo for the emergency release and do this a different way. But the lock had gotten twisted around in his fumbling and he couldn’t feel the buttons no matter how much he groped around it. In frantic second thoughts, his hips slipped a fraction of an inch lower and the plug hit just the right spot inside him.
The shockwave it sent through him was so intense, he saw white in the darkness of the hood and his mind turned to pure static. Deep groans were stifled by the gag, as his hips took over, grindingly mindlessly on the thick toy, pushing lower and lower with each gyration. “Stop! Please! No more!” part of him begged no one, unable to stop even himself.
Only when the pain of being stretched was too great to ignore did he resurface to anything like awareness. He needed to stop. He was going to hurt himself. But fuck, it felt so good. The throbbing agony in his ass created a harmony of sorts with the throbbing in his cock and he was caught in the middle. A prisoner of his own foolishness and desperate need, he couldn’t stop. Pushing himself down by the smallest fractions of an inch with each press of his hips, certain he’d be split in half for sure.
A sob escaped him at one point, as he tried to plead around his gag. Begging himself to stop. Just when he felt like something was going to tear for sure, he suddenly sank down on his heels. He’d passed the thickest part, his hole clenching back around the slender neck before the flared base. The base that now pushed hard against him. A shudder ran through him, suddenly aware of just how stuffed he was. He could feel the toy inside him with every breath, every movement.
Shifting his legs further apart, he stretched his shoulders as hard as he could, grinding that base against the floor as the last of his true awareness slipped through his fingers, lost to a haze of pure lust. Stretched and stuffed, his hips rode the toy as hard as he could. Even as his knees and shoulders screamed, he kept going.
At some point, he moved his legs out from under him, to press his ass directly to the floor to get more pressure on the toy. The strain felt like it might pull his shoulders from their sockets, but still he didn’t stop. Even as he sobbed and whimpered under the hood, drooling around the gag. Each shift of his hips pushed him closer to the edge of orgasm. Relief was so close he could taste it.
But somewhere after the two hour mark, he made a devastating discovery. There was an invisible wall just shy of that edge, half a step back from that blissful point he craved. Clinging to that razor’s edge just before an orgasm was the place he always tried to hold himself the longest. But something held him back from reaching even that point, so close he could practically taste it, but crushed against the barrier that kept him from touching it. Trapped in desperate need rather than desperate bliss.
He started sobbing, begging silently with no one. The more he begged and pleaded, the more that no one took shape. The voice from his deepest fantasies, when he imagined what it would be like to have a Master.
“You asked for this, Slave.”
The voice seemed different. More present. It made him whimper and shiver, something twisting inside him at being called Slave.
“It’s your fault. You did this to yourself.”
He shook his head, trying to refute the words that were just in his head.
“You put the cage on yourself. Are you really so pathetic you can’t handle it for a single day, Slave?”
All of a sudden he dropped to the floor, the lock opening with the timer. After a moment of daze, he started to reach for the laces on his hood.
“You’re not done suffering yet, Slave,” the voice in his head said. He tried to beg against it, tried to refute it, but he found himself moving his arms behind his back and closing the lock. Wait, had he hit one of the timer buttons? It was so hard to hear over his frantic breathing. But still, he closed the lock and pressed the lock button.
“There’s a good Slave. You know your place.”
“Please, Sir! Just let me cum! I’ll do anything!”
“You’ll shut your worthless mouth. Slaves don’t cum”
A sob escaped around the gag as his hips ground the base of the plug against the floor. Is this how he’d spend his days off? Desperately arguing with a voice in his head, suffering for no one but his own perverse fantasies?
“You’re training yourself, Slave. Preparing yourself for your true place of servitude.”
Suddenly, he wished he’d pulled out the shock collar. The one he’d always been too afraid to use because it was too sensitive. The one that shocked him if he so much as breathed too hard. Maybe cranked up higher than he’d ever tried before. It’s what he deserved for begging when slaves simply obeyed.
But he was just begging in his head, wasn’t he? He could barely make a sound let alone speak around the gag.
He barely moved from that spot on the floor, grinding against the massive plug as he leaked so hard he felt sticky all over. He faded in and out of his headspace, berating himself for being so stupid or being humiliated by the man he’d made up in his head.
When the lock finally came loose, he yanked it free before he could do anything else to himself. He was exhausted and couldn’t stop grinding his hips. Slowly, he extracted himself from the hood and squinted into the dim light of his apartment. The sun had set at some point and the only light came from the street outside. Once his vision cleared, he inspected the lock. 6 hours. He blinked a few more times, trying to process that. He’d been trapped there for a total of 10 hours. And still he couldn’t stop riding the toy.
As he cleaned up everything else, he hesitated to remove the toy. It felt right to be so full. It belonged there. Even as he went to get another protein shake, he left it in. Even as he downed enough water to make his stomach ache, he didn’t even think of taking it out.
Once he got into the shower, he realized the fullness wasn’t just from the toy, but his bladder as well. But he was so engorged and the cage so tight, it took serious effort to push it out. Both hands on the shower wall, clenching hard. Doing so made him tense around the toy, making the process even harder.
By the time he crawled into bed he hadn’t touched the toy. Maybe he was just too tired to pull it free. At some point, he’d picked up the cuffs and timer lock. He just needed a good night’s sleep, he told himself as he set the timer for 9 hours. Everything would return to normal in the morning. He kept telling himself he’d get some rest, even as he humped his mattress. Drifting in and out of sleep, punctuated by the invading toy and pounding need of his cock.
In a daze that morning, he didn’t bother with breakfast. Before he was even fully aware, he was dragging a chair over by his bed and pulling more things out of the nightstand drawer. A nose hook he’d rigged with a rope and some rings to pull taught himself. Several locking straps. A blindfold. Earplugs. A handful of locks. The length of chain from the wall, and a smaller chain as well. And the shock collar he was so afraid of.
One end of the smaller chain was locked to the back rung of the chair. The tail of the nose hook tied to the lower rung of the back. Seated in the chair, he fixed his legs as tight as the straps would allow at both ankle and knee, locking them and tossing the keys onto the bed where he couldn’t reach without serious effort and risk of falling over. The longer chain went around the back of the chair and across his hips, cinched painfully tight and held with a heavy lock. That key joined the first. He activated the shock collar and after a moment’s hesitation fastened it around his throat, making sure the prongs sat right across his voice box. The same gag as the day before filled his mouth. The earplugs expanded in his ears, drowning out the hum of the fridge. A leather strap went around the back of the chair and cinched tight around his chest, making him keenly aware of every breath.
He was fastening the final strap before he realized he’d even grabbed that one. It was a thin, short strap he’d modified so he could tighten it around his balls. Swollen as they were, it was agony to get the belt to close in its specially made hole. That was locked as well, making him whimper as it closed.
His whole body jerked as the collar went off, stronger than he’d intended to set it. He stifled a cry, his whole body shivering.
His eyes stung as he picked up the timer lock, still at the 9 hours from his fitful sleep. Before he could stop himself, he hit the hour button a few more times until it read 12.
“Good Slave,” he heard the man’s voice in his head as he set it down on his thigh.
First the blindfold, cinched tight around his eyes and blocking out all light. Then the nose hook, the blunt metal catching in his nostrils. He fumbled around until he found the pull string, dragging his head back until his neck strained.
Finally, he found the loose end of the short chain and began fastening his cuffs to a link low enough that his shoulders were forced back painfully.
“Please, don’t do this!” He begged with himself as his finger hovered over the lock button. “Get something to eat! Clear your head! This is wrong!”
“Good slaves earn their food,” he thought as he hit the lock button.
He’d bound himself so securely he could barely even grind on the massive plug. Attempts to do so caused the chain on his hips and strap on his chest to dig in painfully. Punctuated by reminders that slaves were supposed to be silent, his muffled whimpers triggering violent jolts from the collar.
After just a few hours, he was sobbing silently, shivering and mentally pleading with himself and the man in his head for a reprieve. But just like the night before, the lock was in a position where he couldn’t reach the release button. Which became a problem when he realized a serious error in eagerness to get into the chair. Everything he’d had the day before was liquid and a chain dug hard into his bladder.
“Good slaves wait for permission to go,” the man said in his head. “Only pathetic, worthless brats beg and make a scene.” Another desperate sob reminded him to be quiet.
Somewhere along the way, his mental grip started to slip. The man was really there, pacing around him, reminding him to be a good slave. Lecturing him. Reminding him of his place. The man had been the one to tie him there, the man held the keys. Dane could only endure. It didn’t help matters that the strap around his balls made them throb in a way that felt like someone was pressing on them. A painful reminder of his place.
As the hours ticked on, he was still sobbing but he’d learned to do so silently. Mentally thanking the man who wasn’t there for every humiliating word and harsh lesson. Thanking him for every shock and painful throb. So it was rather jarring when the lock finally released and his arms were free.
Frantically, he pulled the nose hook free and removed the blindfold. He was alone. Reality rushed back to him. What had he been doing?!
When he’d tossed the keys to the bed, he’d put them so he could reach them when only his legs were bound. Trying to reach them now was impossible, with his chest and hips locked down. His fingers fumbled around the collar to find he’d mindlessly locked that on, too. Any attempt to even yell for help would be cut short before he could even make a sound. Desperately, he tried to scoot the chair closer to the bed, stretching as hard as he could. Tipping onto two legs. Almost there! Almost–
The chair and his shoulder thudded against the floor, making him cry out in shock. The collar activated, making his back arch against the bonds, creating a cascade of agony and desperation. For a moment he lost focus, his hips taking on a mind of their own and grinding between the chain and the plug. His bladder was so agonizingly full its throbbing joined in the symphony of his ass, cock, and balls. How he didn’t piss himself was a shock in itself.
Eyes fluttering as his body tried to satisfy itself, he grabbed a handful of the blanket and pulled. The thought was to try to get himself up somehow, despite the fact that he could only move from the shoulders up. And that plan was thwarted as the blanket just slid towards him.
Biting back a whimper, he tried again. Handful after handful. Blindly fumbling to get up. Until something clattered a few inches from his face. Another one fell and tumbled under the bed. The keys!
Carefully, he got the rest to fall, picking them up and matching them to their locks. But much to his dismay only his legs were free. Or rather part of one leg, because he couldn’t reach the one against the floor yet and he couldn’t yet reach his ankle. With some fumbling under the bed, he came up with the key to his balls, which were immediately freed. He may have lost some time, “massaging” them before realizing the same key fit the lock on the strap around his chest.
But the collar and chain were still locked. Now that more of him was free, he tried to squirm free of the chain, but he’d locked it down so tight it bit into his skin and now the chair trapped it from moving up the back. But with some effort he managed to rock the chair onto its back. There he could unlock one knee. And with great strain and an agony so intense he thought his bladder would give out then and there, he unlocked his ankles.
With his legs now properly free, he rolled onto his knees and set to work on the chain. Between his bladder and the toy, it felt like he was going to be split in half at the waist as the chain got tighter still. The agony was blinding, but he managed to finally kick the chair away, and the chain fell free.
Hunched over and knees together, he bolted for the bathroom. At least this time it didn’t take much effort to empty himself. But the sigh of relief gave him a very harsh reminder that he still needed to find the key to his collar, his body jolting so hard he almost fell off the toilet.
Priorities. Before he hunted for the key, he needed something to eat. Which ended up being the same as last night. A protein shake and water. He dropped down at the kitchen table, exhausted. It jostled the toy inside him and he found himself grinding against it until he lost sense of time.
When he finally gained focus again, it was well after midnight and he was supposed to go into work in the morning. Stumbling back to his room, he found his phone. “Won’t be in, stomach bug,” he sent in a text to his boss. Grabbing a pillow, he dropped onto the floor and curled up next to his bed. He was too tired to think it through, just the vague concept that slaves didn’t deserve to sleep in beds.
Exhausted fingers fumbled in the bedside table, coming up with the leather hood from the day before and he fastened it over his head. Ignoring that the lock was still set for 12 hours, he fastened his hands behind his back.
This was a slave’s place.
He’d find the collar key in the morning.
Despite his exhaustion, he had trouble staying asleep. The throbbing in his cock woke him, other times the collar went off jolting him awake.
Sometime after sunrise, he eventually sat up, grinding on the plug until his mind went to static again. Several hours passed with him lost in a haze until the lock trapping his wrists buzzed and clicked open.
There was something desperately wrong going on here. He’d always been kinky, but he’d never been this bad. An hour here, a few hours there, but he’d never called out sick from work for it. Throwing the lock across the room to stop the temptation he could feel creeping up in his mind, he set to stripping off his bonds. Only to remember he still hadn’t found the collar key. As he moved from his place on the floor, he felt exhausted and weak, unsteady despite not even standing up.
As he fumbled around under the bed instead of a key, he found the slip of paper that had come with the cage. It unfolded to be over a foot long and mostly explained how to put it on. However, under the section titled “Unlock the Device” there were just two very short sentences:
“The device will automatically unlock when the wearer achieves orgasm. Orgasm can only happen with permission.”
Frantically, he read every word on the paper to find how that even worked, but that was the only place “permission” could be found.
A rising panic stopped him from falling into the habits of the last few days. He needed something to eat, then he needed to find out how to get this damn thing off his cock so he could go back to his life. But he discovered he only had one protein drink left. Shit. Okay, he’d put in an order for more than get to searching for anything he could about the cage.
But that meant sitting at his computer. And he still had that massive plug inside him. It felt far too good just to grind his hips on it. But he got a large supply of the shakes added to his cart before his mind started to fade into static again. He thought he’d just lost a few moments to the haze, but when he shook free of it he’d finished the order somehow. The total didn’t look right, but what mattered is it was supposed to arrive the next day.
He needed a shower and to go to the bathroom. He needed solid food.
“Arrogant slaves need to learn their place.”
“No-–” he said aloud, the shock so intense it drove him to his knees.
“Pathetic. You think you’re a person? That you pick and choose when you’re a slave?”
Even in his head, he couldn’t speak, his throat clenching at the thought of another shock. He was already gathering up items from the previous day. He picked up the shorter chain and fixed it to the hook on the wall and settled on his knees beneath it. Two belts went around each leg, binding calf to thigh and locked with the small padlocks. He wasn’t allowed to stand up until he learned his lesson.
The thicker chain was locked around his hips, so tight it pressed hard into his already full bladder. He picked up the hood and the timer lock and froze. He was already increasing the time before he knew it. 16 hours. 18. No, please. Stop! That’s too much! Just let me use the bathroom!
“The more you beg, the worse it gets.”
Biting back a sob, his fingers stopped at 24 hours. Even as he tried to fight his own body, he was putting on the hood. Then he had to try to reach the chain. It took more tries than he could count to hook the lock into the very last link. To get his wrists locked to it forced his shins off the floor several inches.
As the lock announced the start of the timer, true dread set in. The strain on his shoulders was already intense, as was the pain in his knees. But in this position, the plug was just a weight inside him. He couldn’t grind against it. He could find no pleasure in it.
Don’t fucking do this. You don’t need fucking AI to help with spelling and grammar. Spelling and grammar checks have been built into document writing apps since they’ve existed. There is no reason to rely on external tools.
This was something “inspired by” a story I wrote like a decade ago, which is how I got the alert about it. I’m not giving any more details because I’m giving the person the benefit of the doubt that they didn’t just feed my story into an AI to create a derivative of it.
But still. I’d rather see broken, incomprehensible English written with your own hands fueled by passion alone than for a single word to be (willingly) run through some AI tool. (Because unfortunately some tools are forced on us and can’t be avoided).
Made with rice flour, glutinous rice flour, sugar, and water. The mixture was then pressed through a sieve twice, layered, then steamed. Topped with rainbow dong shaped candies.
Layers:
White: Jasmine flavoring
Pink: Rose flavoring
Orange: Orange blossom water
Yellow: Jackfruit flavoring
Green: Pandan flavoring
Blue: Butterfly pea powder
Purple: Ube flavoring
Batou platinum silicone adult toy is from 🔞Strange Bedfellas🔞
I deleted my rambly post because I realized some of what I might have been feeling could have been my meds.
I'd associated my rapid increase in certain activities with everything else changing in my life after I started on ADHD meds. I'd spent so long under a fog of fatigue that I assumed it was just suddenly having the energy for such things.
Today was the first dose of a different medication because the other one didn't seem to be working as well. And while all of those interests, needs and feelings are definitely still there it's like the volume has been turned down to a reasonable level. It hasn't even been a full day on the new meds, but the drop was so sudden what else could it be?
Brains are just so damn weird. But maybe now I can get back to funneling those feelings into my art instead of trying to engage with other people. Because above all else I really don't like dealing with people when I can avoid it. I'm extremely picky on who I just associate with on a regular basis. The odds of finding someone I not only like being around but would trust enough to delve into all my particular interests is so minuscule it may as well be zero.
Besides, I genuinely prefer fantasy over reality in these things. With my myriad of health issues, half of what I'd want to do are just off limits. Like breath play, especially bagging. I have asthma, which is bad enough. But one of my triggers is humidity. Nothing kills the mood like an asthma attack. And latex. Which I'm just straight up allergic to.
We'll see how it goes in the next few days. Maybe I can be free of my own hormones to some extent.
So last night I started writing the second chapter of Fulfill Your Every Fantasy that just veered off in a wild direction. So far off track I think it might need to be its own one-off instead.
It was supposed to be a handful of snippets of Dane’s week before returning to the shop. But it ended up being a detailed account of every day, getting deeper and deeper into tormenting himself. Like locking himself up in inescapable bondage for 12 hours at a time and basically training himself to be a slave.
It’s a great scenario but not at all what I intended. Gotta save the intense stuff for the shop!
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Adam Jensen/Francis Pritchard
Characters: Francis Pritchard, Adam Jensen, David Sarif
Additional Tags: Sex Pollen, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Finger Sucking, Pheromones, Dysfunctional augs
Summary:
You’re classic sex-pollen fic. Pheromones made the do it.
Jensen is still on medical leave from being augmented. There’s a bit of problem with one of his augs. The CASIE, specifically. Sarif recruits Pritchard to fix it.
“And you think… because we can hardly stand each other… I’ll what? Be magically immune to the pheromones?”
I swear to whatever fucking god I will get back to my other fics. I just have the brain worms.
Summary: Dane's caught hiding things from his parther, but it turns out they were a better match than either of them could have imagined. Dane is immediately dragged into the most intense experience of his life without discussions of consent, safety, or rules. He will submit, and he doesn't have a choice.
This is a re-working of the concepts for my previous story, Impulse Control. It was way too slow for my taste and I'd jumped into it without any idea where I was going. I've since developed a stronger concept for them, but it means completely redoing the story from the ground up.
Word Count: 5,555
Contents/Warnings: Forced/non-con, forced blowjobs, choking/breathplay/deepthroating, forced chastity, intense and extremely unsafe bondage with duct tape mummification, intense and likely impossible bladder control (no watersports)
Also on AO3!
The relationship had started out completely vanilla, much to Dane’s disappointment. He craved harsh treatment and all he got was a loving boyfriend, but he lost the nerve to ask any time he had the opportunity. How do you tell your loving partner you want them to slap you and call you a slut?
Shortly after they moved in together, he didn’t need to find the words. His lack of self control did it for him. His partner was watching TV in the living room while he scrolled hardcore bondage porn on his phone. He started stroking himself, staying quiet at first, teasing and edging so he could keep watching. The noises that escaped him were small at first, strangled whimpers and soft moans as he imagined his partner doing the things in the video to him.
The words “Please, Sir!” escaped his throat louder than he intended, just as his partner passed the bedroom door.
The conversation that followed was deeply humiliating, needing to explain to someone he cared about what he was watching and why. To his horror, his partner skimmed the video. It was a very brutal and forceful kidnapping scenario in which two men dragged a woman into their basement and subjected her to a great deal of pain, training her to be a sex slave as she sobbed the whole time. She was left in painful, stressful positions, whipped and beaten, slapped and spit on, suffocated and choked. His stomach twisted as he had to explain he wanted to be in the woman’s place, needing to admit to it because his partner seemed to think he’d want to be one of the aggressors.
He nearly broke down in tears as his partner started interrogating him about other videos in his history. They mostly focused on men locked in painful looking chastity devices, extreme torment and denial, with a heavy emphasis on breaking and training people to be good submissives or slaves. His partner’s face was a stone mask, completely neutral. Was he upset? Disappointed? Disgusted? Only fear kept Dane from breaking down and begging for the man to tell him anything.
“I…need to go stay with Mark for a few days,” was all his partner said as he handed back the phone. “I’m not mad,” he stressed as Dane’s eyes welled with tears. “This is just…a lot to process.”
“I’m sorry!” Dane blurted out. “Please! I-I won’t do it again! I promise! It’s just fantasies, I don’t really want–”
His partner placed a hand on his shoulder, the mask cracking to show…sadness? “It’s not that. I just…haven’t been giving you what you want. I need to clear my head before we can discuss anything, okay?”
Reluctantly, Dane agreed. He sniffled and scrubbed the tears from his cheeks as his partner stepped out to call their mutual friend. A bit of relief flooded through him that he hadn’t been made to stand or do anything. The utter shame of admitting to such things had only served to strengthen the hardon he’d been hiding under the pillow in his lap. His mind swam with fantasies that he dared not entertain. HIs partner coming back to punish him for such behavior, for being such a little whore, for being pathetic.
The rest of the evening was quiet but tense. He wanted reassurance that everything was okay, but he didn’t want to bother his partner by begging. Before he went to bed, he was alone in the house. They parted with a kiss, at least. Maybe it was okay?
His feelings were a roiling mess. Regret, thrill, dread, anticipation, fear, relief. Eventually he drifted off into a fitful sleep, his dreams flipping between his partner punishing him in the good way with ropes and restraints, and in the bad way by kicking him out. But he need not be worried after all.
He woke up to a text saying “Stop stressing.” His partner knew him so well. “Planning something for when I get back, might be a few days.” But he refused to say what. Just that it was a big surprise.
Dane spent the day trying to forget the whole ordeal. Surely such a vanilla man would want to shove such depraved things into a deep dark closet and never acknowledge them ever again. He’d need to quit cold turkey, give up his fantasies if he wanted to keep such a good man. He may as well try going without on his own.
That night he went to bed frustrated in more ways than emotionally. It took so long to fall asleep that come morning he was dead to the world. Deep enough in sleep he didn’t hear the door open. Only when someone touched him did he rouse, cracking one blurry eye just long enough to see two dark shapes above him before something covered his eyes. Before he could draw in a breath something soft was stuffed into his mouth, muffling the sound.
“Hold him down,” said a gruff voice. “Flip him over.”
Gloved hands grabbed him and manhandled him, getting him onto his stomach. He felt leather close on his wrists and heard the tell-tale click of small locks. Then the same happened to his ankles. All while he kicked and fought as hard as he could. When they finally let him go, he was securely hogtied, his hands flailing at the air as his own legs dragged his shoulders back.
“Get those clothes off him.”
Hands tore at his shirt and boxers before he felt the edge of something cold and metal graze his skin as they sliced the clothes from his body. Then much to his horror, rough hands ran over his cock, before moving down and squeezing his balls. A light squeeze at first, before turning into a crushing grip that made his body buck and squirm, a pleading cry trying to escape around the gag.
“Hold still you pathetic slut,” one of the men barked as the other rolled him onto his back and forced his knees to the floor. It put a powerful strain on his knees, forcing his hips up into the air. He started to squirm when something hard and cold touched his cock. For a fleeting second he thought it was the knife or scissors used on his clothes. Were they going to castrate him?!
No, it was something dull. And slowly pressing down on his cock. A cock cage, and a painfully small one. A deep groan escaped him when he was crushed down just to half his usual length and it kept going. He knew the feeling well. It was one of the cages he’d bought himself. Oh god, had they found his secret stash?! A very short bird cage style that created a short dome, barely big enough for the head of his cock with a snug ring behind his balls. He felt more than heard the click of the key in the lock.
Nothing else was said to him, just terse orders between the two as his legs were bound further. Duct tape wound around his legs, putting him into a strict frog tie, lashing calf to thigh. Layer after layer, so thick he’d never get himself free. They held him down as they repeated the process with his arms. Forcing his hands into fists with the tape first, before wrapping forearm to bicep, each bound limb pushing him to be more and more helpless.
They worked together, removing the cloth from his mouth, just to replace it with another. This one wound and knotted to form a harder, thicker mass. More was tucked into his cheeks and around his teeth, fingers carelessly prodding inside his mouth. The tape followed, no care taken for comfort or breathability. So tight it crushed his cheeks up, making it difficult to breathe through his nose. He started to panic and thrash, but one of the men just slapped him and told him to shut up. Then all at once they let go of him.
He was left writhing on the floor, only able to hear them speaking quietly across the room. Moments ticked by as slow as hours as he shivered on the floor, trying to get up off his back.
Then all of a sudden, one of them grabbed him by the hair and hauled him up onto his knees. Panic set in as he felt his scalp would be torn off. Then all at once blinding light as the blindfold was torn away. He blinked his tear-filled eyes, already trying to beg for mercy, when his vision suddenly came into focus.
“Oh, aren’t you just pathetic.” His partner. His voice having been unfamiliar in blind terror.
He dropped to one knee, gripping Dane’s chin with one hand. “This,” he nodded to Dane’s current state. “Is punishment for not telling me sooner. You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to break you.” The tone sent Dane’s stomach into flip-flops between elation and dread. This wasn’t an act. This wasn’t a scene for his benefit. The other truly meant it. He ran his fingers through Dane’s hair before closing on a handful of hair, dragging his head back. “We’ll begin training tomorrow.
He let go and picked up the roll of duct tape again. Another layer went over Dane’s mouth before wrapping up and over his head. Layer after layer until the only part of him above the neck exposed was his nose, wrapped so tight he couldn’t move his jaw. Down and down his partner worked, applying duct tape directly to skin. He covered the upper back but left the chest exposed. Winding tighter and tighter around the midsection. Dangerously tight, restricting his breathing further. Other materials must have been added because his midsection felt as rigid as if he’d been wrapped in metal. A corset of duct tape.
All the while Dane’s mind raced with what his partner had in store for him. What had he been planning?
Suddenly he was pushed forward, the strict bonds keeping his arms in position enough to catch him on his elbows. “Move, slave.” Before he could respond, there was an intense shock to his ass so intense he was almost laid out flat. Panic set in as he struggled to move his limbs, his mind still reeling when another shock hit him. “I said move!”
Shuffling his bound limbs, he managed to start moving forward. “Faster,” this order came just with a poke from the pronged device on his bare ass.
“Pathetic.” Was the only warning he got before he was scooped up off the floor and thrown over his partner’s shoulder.
After the stairs down from their bedroom, he lost track of where they could be. That is, until cold musty air hit his nose. Somehow he immediately knew where they were going. The mystery door. His partner had sworn it was just a closet, that he didn’t even have keys for it so it must have been sealed up by the previous owner of the house. But Dane had checked it out one day and found the lock was practically brand new. Anything could be behind the door.
Cold musty air gave way to the rich smell of leather. Before Dane could imagine what awaited him, he was dropped roughly onto his back on the hard floor. He felt the weight of his partner on top of him, straddling his hips.
“Do you know how often I’ve fantasized about dragging you down here?” The man said, stroking Dane’s tape covered cheek. “How often I debated doing it without even asking? Part of me wanted to see that fear and betrayal in your face. And I finally got it when I told you I was leaving.” He shifted and chains dragged across concrete. “It was all I could do to not drag you down here right then and there. And now you’re mine. Completely.”
Hard metal closed around Dane’s neck, followed by the click of a lock. He tried to struggle, tried to sit up and found the collar to be bolted to the floor by just a few inches of chain.
His partner got off him and roughly flipped him over, the collar just loose enough to twist around his neck. Before he could adjust to anything, something rigid started pushing against his ass. He bucked in surprise, the feeling cold, but the chain of the collar pulled taught. A hand pressed against his lower back and the pressure grew, a thick plug pushing into his ass. Thankfully lubricated. His eyes went wide under the tape, a stifled cry pushing on the gag. He could already handle a lot, his partner was not a small man by any means. But this was more than he’d ever taken before. It kept going. Longer and thicker. He thrashed under the grip, trying to beg for it to stop.
“You’re going to take it,” was all his partner said, holding a steady pressure. Never forcing it too hard, but never relenting. Stretching him wider and wider. He felt like he was going to split in half. It felt like it was adding pressure to the tape around his midsection, crushing him further. “...there we go….” he said just before the widest point popped inside and Dane’s body suddenly relaxed, dragging the toy deeper, his hole closing around the extremely narrow base.
“Maybe I’ll keep you on a liquid diet so it never has to come out,” he said with a laugh, giving Dane’s exposed ass a hard slap. “Now I’ve got other shit to do, so get comfortable.”
His head jerked up, jostling the toy inside him and making him freeze.
“Oh, don’t worry about making a mess. There’s a drain under you.”
A few moments later, the door slammed shut. Panic seized him completely. Utterly helpless, breathing restricted from every angle, and completely alone. Every movement was agony with that toy inside of him, pressing into his guts. His limbs folded in such a way was already starting to ache. His head swimming from strain, fear, and struggling to breathe. Even worse, he couldn’t even try walking in the bonds, the chain too short to get his elbows under him.
Eventually he got his legs under him, but the way his back arched made the invading toy press against his insides to a point that he felt like he was going to be sick.The sensation so intense he immediately moved his legs so his stomach hit the ground. Doing so crushed his balls between metal and concrete. Every miniscule movement sent shockwaves of pain through his body as he struggled to find relief, just grinding his swollen balls against the floor. Eventually, he managed to jerk his hips in just the right way to get some relief, but not without painfully jostling the toy inside him.
The reality of the situation was settling in. The words his partner had said. This was a long time coming. How much did his partner know? How far would he go? There was no safeword, no way out. He broke down sobbing as he struggled. But why? Relief? Fear? Dread? Pain? Desperation? His mind raced and he couldn’t sort anything out,
Then all at once, his world came into sharp focus on a part of his body he hadn’t even thought about: his bladder. The words about making a mess came back to him. He couldn’t feel anything like a drain under him. But it was supposed to be there. He couldn’t just relieve himself. But the tape across his lower abdomen added so much pressure that the urgency was growing rapidly. Laying on his stomach wasn’t helping. Every attempt to find the drain with his wrapped limbs made the toy inside him shift, sending painful shockwaves through his bladder. Just go, he told himself. Let it out. Even if it ends up on the floor, it’s better than the pain.
But his body refused to just let go. He started to sob, hips twitching with need, his insides cramping.
How long had passed he had no way to know. Pain and ache and need made his whole body tremble. He had no way to move, no way to beg or cry out. And just as his resolve was about to give out, the door opened.
A boot planted on his ass, the heel slamming against the base of the toy making it jolt inside him. “I give you the chance to piss whenever you want and instead you sit here in pain?” he mocked. “So pathetic you can’t even take care of such a basic need on your own.”
He was roughly rolled onto his back, adding more pressure to his desperate bladder. “When I tell you to do something, you better fucking do it or you’ll lose the priviledge all together.” Dane tried to beg, but all that escaped was a grunt. “Because what you’re telling me is you don’t need to piss unless I say so.”
Something pressed around against the tip of Dane’s cock, sharp at first before it found his urethra. Like the plug, it pushed in harder and harder, thicker than he should have been able to take. Thick but pliable rubber. A wicked sounding rod, pushing through his crushed cock and deep into his body. When the end of it clicked into place, locking into the cage itself did the realization set in. The invading pressure was complete. It sealed him off. He couldn’t even leak to relieve the pressure. Panic seized him and he started to struggle. But the toy inside shifted and he froze.
“Fuck, you’re so pathetic when you’re desperate.” He was roughly rolled back onto his stomach. “You know the best part of this thing I left inside you?” Without warning, Dane felt his ass stretching again, but nothing new added. Only after a moment did the warmth of his partner’s skin make it through the material. “It turns you into my own little fleshlight holder.”
All at once, the man slammed his hips forward, his cock pushing into the hollow center of the toy. The jolt sent shockwaves of pain through Dane’s body, making his whole body spasm. “Stop struggling, you’re nothing but a fucking toy now.” A hand pressed against his head, crushing him to the floor as his partner started to work his hips, pulling out slowly with a blissful groan before slamming back in. “You’ve always been fucking pathetic,” he said into Dane’s tape covered ear. “Since the day I met you, I always knew you’d be better with something stuffed in your mouth.” He leaned closer, pressing his chest to Dane’s back to get more leverage. “Never thought you’d be so fucking worthless.”
Those were the last words Dane processed as a hand wrapped over his face, dragging his head back against his partner’s shoulder for leverage as his hips bounded into the toy he held in his ass. The collar dug into the back of his neck, and every thrust felt like a punch to his desperate bladder. But worst of all, the man’s palm had sealed over his nose, crushing the gag deeper into his throat. He thrashed, as the man continued to growl humiliating insults into his ear, nostrils sucking at skin. His lungs spasmed and burned, and the man didn’t seem to care. As his body twitched, the man seemed to enjoy it more. True fear settled in when the man’s words drifted through the growing darkness. “You breathe when I cum, That’s what worthless slaves get.”
The world slipped away from him, agony and humiliation becoming nothing but darkness. Until a bright, painful shock to his ass brought him around. He gasped through his nose, jolting up and trying to move, only for the pain of his bladder make him shudder. The man had already pulled out.
“Fucking pathetic…” was all he heard as the world came back to him. And he wouldn’t be in it for long, as he heard the crinkle of plastic and the sound of a zip tie that cinched around his neck. He gasped and felt something against his nose. A few more breaths and his lungs started to scream. More and more desperately he sucked at the air, the sealed back dragging in against his face.
His partner continued to talk, but he couldn’t hear anything over his desperate, ragged breaths. As he started to fade, a shock to his ass jolted him back. Over and over, until his lungs felt like they were on fire. Even as he tossed his head, desperately, it continued. His head swam as fear fought to keep him awake. His lungs were spasming for lack of air as darkness overtook him again.
Three more times the process repeated. Roused and allowed to breathe a few lungfuls of air before being wrapped back in the plastic and kept awake through pain alone. He was sobbing and trying to beg by the second round. Terrified and shivering, unable to speak. Utterly helpless.
The next time, round six in total, the man was aggressively fucking him when he woke, this time the zip tie was cinched so tight it choked him. Several more were added as the man pounded into him, pulled tighter and tighter until the bag no longer moved with breath because none would escape his throat. Blind terror made him thrash hard despite the pain, only exciting his partner so much the man slammed his head hard into the floor as he got better leverage. Pain and fear ripped through him in his remaining moments of consciousness, thinking the man might actually kill him.
When he came around the next time, he was alone. At least as far as he could tell. Every inch of him ached and throbbed. His lungs ached and his bladder screamed. The tape around his middle and the toy filling him made it feel like he could only take the most shallow of breaths. All he could do was sob, the fear and dread taking over. He thrashed and fought as much as he could, the only sound he could hear was his muffled whimpers and strained breathing.
That is until the door slammed, followed by heavy footsteps. He immediately fell still, holding his breath out of sheer terror. The man said something he couldn’t make out over the sound of duct tape being aggressively pulled from the roll. It was the only warning he had before his head was pulled back by a strap across his forehead. Layer after layer was added to his already heavily taped body.. Lifting and partially rolling him, the man who had once been his partner secured him even further, binding his bent legs together, and securing his arms to his ribs. More strips than he could feel were added, pushing and manipulating him as he whimpered, until all at once it stopped.
“Sleep tight, Slave.”
That’s all he heard before the door slammed shut.
After several agonizing moments of silence, he tried to move. Tried to. His knees were slightly off the floor with his head pulled back with such force the collar around his throat dug into the back of his neck. Even his feet were wrapped so securely he couldn’t flex his toes. But worst of all was the forced bend of his back shifted the angle of the toy stuffed inside him. Even the slight movement of his breath made it feel like the toy was grinding against his strained bladder.
Panic set in once more as he tried to thrash and fight. He only managed to make it all so much worse, only managed to intensify his panic.
He begged, silently, promising all manner of worship to the man he’d loved. Degrading acts well beyond his already generous limits if it meant he could stretch his limbs and feel some manner of relief. He’d submit to anything if it meant not spending the night like this. How long would that be? How long had passed? Would he be an hour? Six? Twelve?!
A new wave of panic washed over him and he renewed his futile fight, only proving he was stuck fast as not even his desperate tears loosened the tape encasing his face.
Immobilized and completely blind made it impossible to tell the passage of time, or whether he was awake or asleep. After panic and fear exhausted him he must have drifted off because he jerked awake into a new wave of frantic terror, only for the pressure on his stomach limiting his breathing to push him back under. Over and over, he alternated between blind panic and some sort of unconsciousness. Was it sleep? Was he passing out from lack of air? Fainting from fear? All he knew was the pain sometimes faded away to nothing, only to rush back worse than ever.
“Hope you slept well.”
The voice was surprisingly gentle and calm, so much so Dane thought he was dreaming. No, there were safety shears working at the tape, and his head lay on the floor instead of forced backwards. Every inch of him still throbbed from mind-numbing pressure and pain. His hands and feet had long since lost feeling from their restriction, yet still registered a concerning burn.
Layer after layer of tape was cut away from him, carefully peeled off his skin. Every touch of the blunt scissors or the man’s hands made him flinch or shiver, unsure of what to expect. Every flinch sending new waves of pain and need through his body.
Once he was down to just his head and limbs wrapped in tape, the man picked him up and carried him bridal style out of the basement. Before he could get his mind around what was happening, something wet and warm washed over him. The position forced the end of the plug to grind up against him, forcing the toy deeper and making him groan. They were in the bathroom, in a prepared shallow bath where his partner used the water to work the duct tape around his legs free. Each leg was massaged as feeling returned, tingling from the knee down. He tried to adjust his position to get the pressure off the plug, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.
His mind reeled. This wasn’t the man who’d dragged him into the basement last night. But he couldn’t grapple with that the way his bladder screamed with need, the gentle sloshing of the warm water making him more desperate than laying on his stomach had done.
“Oh, you poor thing,” the man said, running a firm hand over Dane’s lower abdomen. The added pressure made him arch his back, a desperate whine escaping. “Show me you’ve learned your lesson about sitting still and I’ll let you beg for relief.”
Dane froze. It wasn’t over. This was just another facet of the torment.
Whimpering sobs escaping him, he settled as much as he could, shivering in fear and need.
“That’s better.” The man moved up to Dane’s arms, slowly working the tape free. At every chance he got, he caressed or otherwise added pressure to Dane’s stomach, making him squirm and whimper, as he remained as still as possible.The plug helped, as every shift of his hips made the pressure worse.
The tape fell away and feeling was massaged into his forearms, even as his hands remained wrapped in tape. Before he had a chance to do anything with his new if partial freedom, cuffs wrapped around each wrist and were clipped to his collar. He let out a pleading whimper, but he didn’t fight.
Finally, the tape around his head started to peel away. At least the tape around the lower half of his face. He braced for intense pain as it was ripped from his hair, but instead the man just clipped his hair instead of tearing it free.
“From now on there’s going to be quite a few rules,” he explained as he worked. “And breaking them, even slightly, will result in severe punishment. The most important is that you will only address me as Sir or Master. In time it is the only name you will know of mine, and will think of me as nothing else. Do you understand, Slave?”
He didn’t respond right away. Would his name be erased, too? Would he only be Slave? In the moments he grappled with this, a hand pressed hard on his bladder. “When I ask you a question, you answer immediately. Do you understand?”
He nodded frantically, trying hard to stay still.
“That’s better. The only other rule you need to know for now is that you will never speak unless given express permission to do so beyond a simple ‘yes Sir’. Do you understand?”
He nodded again, even before he fully processed what he was hearing.
“See, you’re learning.”
At long last, the fabric was pulled from his mouth along with copious amounts of drool. As he drew in deep, lungful of breath he very nearly started in on cussing the man out for this. But the movement of his lungs filling only reminded him of his trapped and desperate bladder. So with a defeated whimper, he bit hard on his lower lip, sinking against the back of the tub.
“Very good, Slave,” Sir said, roughly patting his still tape covered head. “Now you’re going to show your gratitude by learning the only thing your pathetic mouth is good for.”
He was already hauling Dane out of the tub and onto the bathroom carpet, where he fell to his knees even before the order was barked at him. He felt more exposed and humiliated than anything the night before, blind and naked, forced into a begging pose with his wrists fixed to his collar.
“Now, what do you say, Slave?”
“Th-thank you, Sir!” he sputtered out, his voice cracking hoarse.
A smack whipped his head to the side. “Be specific.”
“Thank you, SIr!” he blurted out, his mind racing. “F-for showing this pathetic slave its true purpose!” Saying it out loud made his cock throb painfully in its prison.
“You really are pathetic…” was all the warning he got. Sir gripped his head with both hands, forcing his already rock hard cock between the slave’s lips. He wasn’t allowed so much as another breath as Sir pounded into the back of his throat, gripping his head like he was nothing more than a toy. He sputtered and choked, bound hands flailing uselessly. The fragments of breath he managed through his nose were the only things keeping him conscious, even as his hearing started to grow distant.
It wasn’t his struggling that excited Sir. It was when that struggling started to fade.
“You know the rule…” he grunted. “You only breathe when I cum.” He buried the slave’s face hard against his groin, groaning as the slave’s throat spasmed and fluttered around his cock. After a few more thrusts, he buried his shaft as deep as possible. His captive’s throat started to spasm as his lungs sucked desperately for air, as he hovered at the edge of consciousness.
The word started to slip away from Dane as Sir finally exploded, flooding his abused throat with sticky cum. He felt every surge of it as he clung to the razor’s edge of darkness.
“Thank you, Sir…” he coughed out the words before he even processed that he could breathe again. “Thank you for giving your useless slave a purpose.”
“It’s the only purpose you deserve,” Sir said as he hauled Dane off the floor. Much to his relief, he felt the cold hard surface of the toilet seat under his legs, the tank against his back. Gratitude flowed out of his mouth so fast it sounded like gibberish. Until a slap struck his cheek.
“How easily you forget,” Sir said. “You get nothing without properly begging for it.”
Everything he’d thought of the night before came flowing out. Promising to be the man’s cock sleeve. Offering to sew his own mouth shut. Offering to be the man’s actual dog, allowed to only piss outside. To be the man’s doll. He offered to exist exclusively to suffer for the man’s pleasure, that he wasn’t worthy of being fucked any other way.
“Keep going…” was all Sir said, his fingers stroking Dane’s cock through the cage’s bars.
He started babbling, offering every possible aspect of autonomy. Cut out his tongue, cut off his limbs, blind him, immobilize him permanently. Pierce him and display him. Get a worse cock cage, the kind that was an inch of solid steel crushing into his body. He should be in constant pain just because Sir liked it.
Then all at once relief rushed through him as the pressure reduced. As he’d rambled, Sir had loosened something and the immense pressure forced his bladder to empty with extreme force. He slumped forward, gratitude rushing out between more promises and offers. Until the relief suddenly stopped.
“You can earn the rest later,” Sir said, clicking the plug back into the cage.
Dane only let out a whine, biting his tongue as Sir finally started working the last of the tape free.
